“The remains of the humans at the pit where Ming of Mearkanis was found have received official, legal, forensic autopsies and have been identified by comparing missing persons reports and dental records.”

Beast’s ear tabs twitched in interest and Jane moved into Beast eyes to stare out at Alex.

“Their names are Onus Rebarius Brown,” he said, “age twenty-four when he went missing, and his girlfriend, Jesimine Ladasha Pirrie, age nineteen. No firm COD or TOD has been established, but the bone scarring and healing around wrists and ankles suggest they were shackled and alive for some time in the pit. Scavenger depredation,” he emphasized, “took place postmortem, and may be interfering with the COD determination. Changing water tables are interfering with TOD.”

Jane thought, COD and TOD. Cause of death and time of death.

“Local LEOs are not saying who or what they think killed the couple, but the chains suggest that they were kidnapped, possibly tortured, leaving mostly soft tissue damage, then drowned. And then the water table dropped, and animals got in somehow, and then the water table went back up. Maybe several times.”

“But they think vampires?” Eli asked over the cell connection.

“They think weres of some sort.”

Wolf snorted at words. Still upside down, he batted house cat with oversized paws. Kit-Kit batted back.

“Hmm,” Eli said.

“Yeah. Anyway, I started researching the brooches and found the style was based on Egyptian history, in European and American revival jewelry and art from several decades in modern history. There’s a maker’s mark, and they were signed by an artist, so we know they were made by a local New Orleans jeweler, but there’s no documented tie-in with the Mings, or with any of the witches or the vamps, and I don’t think I’ll find any.”

“Copy,” Eli said. “Jane, I’m not sure what happened with Edmund, with you doing that whole—” He stopped. “With you taking off that way.”

Beast chuffed at Jane’s amusement. Eli was about to say things on cell that might be overheard by ambush hunters.

“Lachish is at Tulane, surrounded by witches and cops and a doctor named Robere. Sound familiar?”

Beast yawned.

“She needs surgery on her leg and arm, and the good doctor has privileges there, so he’ll be scrubbing in to assist, gratis. The MOC has offered his blood to help in healing, especially so that she can show up at the big wingding. I’ve already secured a wheelchair and ramps for the Elms, and the staff and family at the Elms are suddenly more agreeable to allowing cameras in-site. They want a price from YS for security upgrades. Evan is fine. Edmund donated enough blood that Molly and Ailis were able to finish his healing. He’s a little tender, but he and Molly are on the way home.”

“But the Witch Conclave is still on?” Alex asked.

“Roger that. But I think we should get a bloodhound and walk the grounds of the Elms. See if we can get a scent.”

Beast’s head went up. Snorted. Eli meant Beast to let Jane become ugly dog with good nose. Beast growled. Wolf turned over and tilted head, watching Beast. Could use Wolf? Beast asked Jane.

No. I think we need to shift and do it ourselves.

Beast snorted in disgust. Was good word, disgust. Is stupid. Is prey move.

Okay. It isn’t smart. But we’ve done it before. Once. We survived.

Stupid, foolish, kit thing to do. But nodded head as humans would.

“She’s in,” Alex said. “I’ll get her box of bones and put a steak on to sear.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” The connection ended.

Beast and Jane followed Alex to Jane’s room and stood in doorway, watching as Alex got chair and stood on it, feeling around on top shelf for box of bones and teeth. When he set it on floor he paused and looked at Beast. “I don’t guess I could watch this ti—”

Beast snarled and growled, vibration loud in warning. Showed killing teeth.

“Right. Never mind. Forget I asked.”

Beast growled again and Alex stink changed with fear. Good fear smell. Beast chuffed. Alex walked fast out of Jane room, closing door. Beast pushed on door with nose to make sure it was shut. Pushed small lock with nose. And went to bed, jumped on top. Jane’s den was good den. Soft den. Good place for kittens. Jane did not reply, so Beast opened box with teeth. Picked out necklace of bloodhound teeth and bones. Do not like ugly dog. But good nose. Settled on bed and let Jane reach into bones and teeth and into snake at heart of all things.

Jane shifted, first into Jane, and then into ugly, hungry dog.

* * *

When Eli knocked on the bedroom door, I gave a friendly woof.

“You locked it,” he said, the faint click telling me that the latch had been no concern for the Ranger. Eli stepped inside, and though I couldn’t see well in this species’ form, I smelled his exhaustion, tart and marginally sour. With the long ears and folds of loose skin, it was hard to see anything, and I shook myself, the flesh slapping, rippling, and sliding over deeper tissue. Eli held a leash and a Canine Service dog vest, and Beast crinkled up our nose at the smell of it, but I stepped off the mattress and sat, like a good dog.

Brute pushed into the room and stopped short. His head whipped back and forth, his nose scenting the air. He growled. A werewolf growl was much louder than Beast’s, a vibration that swept into the walls and floor and made the house judder under me. I went utterly still.

Eli grabbed Brute by the ear and yanked back. The wolf snapped in the air and the Ranger made a move taught by Uncle Sam’s army. Brute yelped and ended up halfway back into the living room. Eli followed and shut the door with force, if quietly enough not to wake the kiddos. I heard him say, “You do not snap, were. That’s a death sentence for your kind.”