"Not so you'd notice," Kenzie said. "Other powerful places, though." She continued her study of the area. She'd never been to Faerie and had no idea if the trees were like this. Uncle Cristian would know-he had an uncanny amount of knowledge stored in his brain.
Brigid's arrogance left her. Her face settled into lines of resignation, of one who knew her choices were limited.
"Wait." Kenzie frowned. "Bowman found a silver charm. Did that have anything to do with getting through the gate? It might have been a magic device."
"Silver charm?" Brigid came alert. "In the shape of a knot?"
"Yes? You've seen it?"
"It's mine. He took it from me. It was my mother's-has been in my family for generations."
"Oh." Kenzie deflated. "Might not be the key to the gate, then."
"No, it is simply an ornament. He liked it, because it is heavy silver, but it is common. In my home, that is." Brigid let out a sigh. "It is strange, is it not? We are enemies, you and I. I should feel great distaste that you stand here unclothed, so barbaric, but I do not. If I am to escape, I will need your help. But that is not all of my feeling. I am grateful for your presence. I had grown lonely."
She looked wistful, this lovely woman with her certainty that Fae were the greatest creatures in the universe.
"Don't write us off yet," Kenzie said. "I'm getting out of here and back to my wee one. I say that when Turner comes back in for you, we jump him, take whatever magical device he's using to get in and out, and go."
"It may not be so simple," Brigid said, sounding skeptical. "He uses some kind of spell that freezes me into place, keeps me from overpowering him and fleeing. He is not a warrior, and I have trained to be, so I should be able to best him. But I cannot get near him."
"Great." Of course it couldn't be that easy, could it? "Will this spell freeze me too?"
"I do not know. You are not Fae, and he might not know you are here."
Kenzie drew a breath. "Well, we'll have to take our chances. If I can pin him fast enough and tear out his throat, that will probably cancel any spell he has on you."
"I am willing to try," Brigid said, giving her a solemn nod.
"Then we'll get the hell out of here. Sound like a plan?"
Brigid's brows drew together. "Why would that not sound like a plan? It is a plan."
Kenzie grinned. "It's our way of saying Is it a good plan?"
"Better than rotting here." Brigid wrinkled her nose. "This world stinks."
"I'll drink to that."
Brigid looked wistful again. "Aye, a good flagon of mead would go down well. We shall overcome this man and raise a glass."
"Kick his ass and go out for pizza." Kenzie laughed at Brigid's bewildered expression. "Means the same thing."
"Then that is what we shall do." Brigid settled herself on a damp, fallen log. "Now we wait."
"Yeah," Kenzie said, letting out a breath. "We wait."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Gil led Bowman to the mountain trail where Kenzie had disappeared. "There," he said, pointing down the hill. "But it doesn't mean you can get to her."
Bowman didn't bother arguing. He signaled to his trackers to start searching.
A few hours later, Bowman's hope was dying. Kenzie was nowhere, and the mists were dispersing with the coming morning.
He'd walked into every pocket of mist he could find, until his human hair or wolf's fur was dripping wet, and he still found himself in the familiar wilderness of western North Carolina.
"Where the hell is she?" he snarled at Gil.
"The pockets move," Gil said, shaking his head. He'd gone to a cabin he owned nearby to change out of his nineteenth-century clothes, and now wore jeans and a UNC sweatshirt. He'd been heading to this cabin, he said, to hide from Kenzie when she'd chased him from the hotel. "I tried to go in after her, but most of the gates are locked to me."
"Why are they?" Bowman demanded. "What does that mean?"
"It means I was kicked out of Faerie a thousand years ago, and anything that smacks of Fae magic is barred to me. The Fae made gates to lots of worlds back in the day, though most of them have vanished, disused. The pockets are what's left. I can't traverse them."
"A thousand years ago?" Bowman stared at him.
"Yeah," Gil said. "I'm older than I look."
"Don't be a smart-ass. Why the hell didn't you tell me all this before? About the gates? About you being from Faerie? You don't look Fae."
"Because I'm not. And I had no idea there were pocket gates in this part of the world, or that your professor was breeding monsters. He shouldn't be able to."
"I shouldn't be able to turn into a wolf, but I do." Bowman slung him away, tired of arguing. "Where else can we find these gates?"
"Everywhere. Anywhere. They come and go. A Fae talisman can make them easier to find and use, instead of hit or miss, but working talismans are few and far between. I'm sorry it's not what you want to hear, but there it is."
Shit. Bowman swung from Gil and walked away, deeper into the woods, where all was silence. The trackers didn't follow him, knowing he needed to be alone for the moment.
Bowman stopped and let out a long, steaming breath. Kenzie, where are you?
He wouldn't accept that she could be gone forever. Magic happened, yes; but magic could be undone. If Kenzie had gone into a gate, she could come back out of it. Logical.
Bowman didn't want to admit that magic could be more complicated than that. People vanished all the time, never to be found again. Magic had created the beast that had attacked them in the roadhouse-a beast like that shouldn't have been able to exist.
Gil shouldn't be alive after a thousand years, but there he stood. Kenzie shouldn't be gone. But she was.
No. Bowman clenched his fists and pressed them to his stomach. He wouldn't let her be gone. He'd find her. She was his mate.
Ryan didn't know yet. Bowman would have to tell him-he deserved to know.
Damn it. Bowman straightened up, his eyes burning.
The others were waiting for him, expecting him to give them orders, expecting him to be leader, no matter that he was dying inside. Even Cristian, as impatient and volatile as he was, was taking his cues from Bowman tonight.
Bowman should know what to do. But he didn't.
He strode back to the waiting group and took a deep breath, the cold mountain air washing into him.
"Pierce," he began. "Take Gil home with you. The two of you will find out all you can about these pockets and how to get into them. Pull in every Guardian out there to help you if you have to. Cristian, you, Cade, and Jamie keep looking for Turner. I want him alive and able to talk. I'll join you after I contact some resources of my own." He pointed at the other Shifters who'd come to help. "The rest of you will keep looking around here for Kenzie or any of these gates. No one go in, just call if you find anything." He swept them in a collective glare, ending at Cristian. "And no one is to blab any of this to my cub. I'll be telling him. Got it?"
The Shifters didn't stand around and argue. They dispersed to their tasks without a word.
Except Cristian, of course. He could never let himself be seen simply obeying Bowman. Oh, no. Cristian regave orders to the Lupines in his pack to search for Kenzie, then he joined Bowman.
"Where do you think you're going?" Bowman asked him as he strode for his motorcycle.
"Back home to my mother," Cristian said. "She deserves to know what's happened to her granddaughter. From my mouth."
He had a point. Bowman mounted his Harley, kick-started his engine, and took off down the rutted track, the slice of Cristian's light close behind him.
* * *
It was forty or so miles back to Shiftertown, the first part of the trip slow through dirt roads that had frozen over. The highway was a little faster but full of icy patches. An hour later, Bowman rode into Shiftertown, not stopping until he reached Afina's.
Bowman dismounted and strode up to the house, not worrying about territory and courtesy today. But once Afina let him into the kitchen, and Ryan ran in to meet him, Bowman halted, his feet suddenly unable to move.
"Ryan." Bowman's mouth was tight, words dying in his throat.
He heard Cristian enter the house behind him. Afina went to her son and asked him something in Romanian. Cristian shook his head, and Afina put her hand to her chest.
Ryan was looking up at Bowman. His back was straight, his head high, the wisdom in his eyes too old for his twelve years. "Just tell me, Dad."