Savannah screamed and tumbled from her chair.
I caught her and started to set her upright, but she clung to me, shaking and wide-eyed. “Oh, my God, Jaxson, I think he saw me! He spoke to me!”
The blood in my veins froze. “What?”
Her hands were trembling, and a trail of blood began to drip from her nose. Not good.
“Everything is okay,” I said with more confidence than I felt. I kept my arms around her, unsure if I should pull her close. I had no idea how I should react after the incident in the woods, but I knew how my body wanted to react. The sweet tangerine scent of her signature brought water to my mouth. When her heartbeat against my chest began to slow, I set her back on the stool before my own heart could start racing. “Tell me what happened.”
Panic shone through her watery eyes. “He looked at me and said, ‘No peeking, Savannah.’ But, like, in my mind. How could he see me?”
How, indeed?
I let my presence wash over her, calming her fears. I pitched my voice low and soft, holding back any sign of the alarms going off in my head. “He may not have actually seen you, just identified your presence. Some powerful spellcasters can protect themselves from clairvoyance and other forms of observation. I’m guessing he must be a sorcerer. Or a mage.”
She shook her head slowly. “It felt like he was digging into my soul with his eyes, and I couldn’t even see them. I couldn’t see anything beyond that horrible darkness where his face should have been.”
A bead of blood had pooled on the top of her lip and hung there, quivering. I had an inhuman urge to taste it. I was a predator, after all, and the scent of blood always climbed above the chorus of other aromas. But this was different. It smelled exotic, pungent, almost like a drug.
I dipped a napkin in my ice water and softly wiped the blood from her lip, wishing it was my mouth instead of my hand. “It’s all right. You did great, and I think you got us the information we need.”
After she’d calmed and repeated everything that she’d seen, I left her for a moment and had the bartender retrieve a pen and paper from the back. I placed them down in front of the shaken woman. “Draw the lighthouse.”
She set about sketching, and as the dark lines appeared on the paper, the tension in her body melted away. The art had an almost magical hold over her. It centered her in a way that even my alpha presence could not.
Her hands flew over the page. “I bet this is in Wisconsin, or at least on the edge of Lake Michigan. The beach was white limestone cobbles. I went to a lot of beaches like that when I was a kid. We might be able to track down the lighthouse. They’re all different.”
I took a picture of her illustration and sent it to Regina, and then Savannah and I started scrolling through our phones, trying to identify the lighthouse. It took a half hour of searching through various historical society pages on the internet, but she finally found an obscure reference to the lighthouse, plus a couple of old photos. “This is it! It’s the Jasper Point lighthouse in lower Door County.”
Adrenaline surged through my body as I compared the images on her phone to her illustration of the lighthouse. “Well done. The location makes sense. Most of the disappearances have been isolated Magica living in eastern Wisconsin.”
I dialed Regina. “We’ve got a location. Call Tony and have his Belmont team meet us at the Mobil station on Wisconsin Road 42. Tell them to plan on shifting, but bring guns as backup. Then grab Sam and a couple of others and meet us at the docks so we can arm up with Billy.”
I hung up with her, grabbed Savannah, and headed for the truck.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled through the checkpoint into the docks and rumbled over the broken asphalt to a derelict section of the port. I parked beside a rusted container that appeared abandoned but was one of the secure p
laces in which the pack stored firearms.
Regina and Sam were already on site, and Billy emerged from inside the container as we drove up. He dumped an armful of weapons into the bed of his truck and glared at us as we slipped out. “You brought a LaSalle into the docks?” he growled, giving Savannah a deathly stare.
I slammed the door and put a calming hand on the small of Savannah’s back before she flew off the handle in response to Billy’s challenge. “She’ll know not to come here.”
Savannah relaxed slightly beneath my touch, though she was shooting daggers at Billy with her eyes. She had a quick temper and no idea how to navigate pack hierarchy, an explosive combination that I didn’t need going south, particularly with a pile of guns at hand.
“What’s the situation?” Regina asked, grabbing a rifle and inspecting it. I could tell by her scent and the jut of her hip that she was also clearly at odds with having Savannah present, but unlike Billy, she wasn’t going to push it.
“The rogue wolves are using a cabin on the shore of Lake Michigan as a base of operations. By Savannah’s description, it sounds like a temporary arrangement, so we need to move quickly.” I grabbed a pistol and a couple clips of silver bullets.
Billy looked from me to Savannah. “A cabin? How did you find out about it?”
“Savannah has sorcery in her blood, so she scried.”
Billy growled, and Regina sucked in a quick breath, even though she’d been in on my plans from the start. It was still taboo.
“You’re messing with the fucking dark arts,” Billy snarled, reeking of rage and hate. His eyes flashed yellow, and I could tell his wolf was getting near the surface.
Including him might have been a mistake, but Billy was part of my inner circle, and I couldn’t just cut out the voices of my advisors when I felt like it. That would defeat the whole point of having them. I needed every perspective I could get, and Billy reflected the beliefs of many in my pack.