Thunder Moon (Nightcreature 8)

Cal cracked his big knuckles, something he did when he didn’t feel totally in control of things. “What can I do?”

“Keep it quiet,” I said. “Don’t even tell Jordan. We can’t afford a panic.”

“Right.”

“And if you could continue to handle things at the office for a few more days, that would free me up to help Doc.”

Boy, the more I lied, the easier it got.

“You can count on me.”

I could, which only made me feel like scum for keeping the truth from him. When he left, I sat on the bed with a sigh.

“You couldn’t tell him,” Ian said, and I glanced up in surprise at how easily he’d read my mind.

The agony he’d revealed during the night was evident in the shadows beneath his eyes, but other than that, he seemed all right—rested, strong, ready to do his job.

“What you’re thinking is all over your face. Your deputy’s a good guy, and you wanted to share everything.”

“But he’s a good guy who wouldn’t understand. Either he’d lock us up for crazy people or his head would spin round and round until it exploded from the stress. I couldn?

?t do that to him.”

“You made the right decision. He can take care of the real-world issues, which will leave you free to help me with the out-of-this-world troubles.” He paused. “What brought him here? What made him think you need the FBI, which, by the way, would be a waste of a phone call?”

“Because?”

“Stuff like this would be routed to the Jäger-Suchers, and since you already called them...”

“Waste of a phone call. Got it. But don’t people become a little suspicious when they call the FBI and get a Jäger-Sucher?”

“Not when they get the agent who’s also a Jäger-Sucher.”

“There’s an FBI agent who works for Edward?”

“There are agents of Edward all over the place. Saves time.”

“Sometimes I think he’s as scary as the creatures he’s hunting.”

“He is,” Ian said shortly. “Now, getting back to your deputy—”

“He came to report another death.”

“Who?”

“The niece of some residents at a house we visited.”

His gaze shot to mine.

“One where we’d left a buzzard feather.”

“Either the buzzard feather doesn’t work against Raven Mockers or it doesn’t work against this particular one, which appears to be growing stronger and changing the rules however it wants to.”

“I hate it when that happens.”

Ian coughed. I wasn’t sure if he was stifling a laugh, a sob, or maybe both.

“I know of one other method to repel the witch,” he continued. “But it’s more elaborate. Not as easy to cart around and distribute as a feather.” He pulled his shoes out from under the bed. “I’ll need to find some sticks, a sharp knife, pick up my notebook for the spell.”