I chuffed softly, spittle flying, and led the way to the next site, where I sat again. There were three unexploded magical focals altogether, one in each narrow side garden and one in front. That seemed important, but I couldn’t remember why. I was Jane, but . . . I caught the scent again, on the sidewalk, and pulled Eli into a lope, tracking the scent down the street. Witches. Witches and vampire blood.

Nose to the sidewalk, I pulled hard, knowing, knowing, knowing the witches. One older, with bad bones, who ate too much fat, who smelled of sugar and sickness, and one younger who . . . smelled like Ming. Like Ming’s blood and . . . Crazy woman, I thought. Like a crazy woman. And Almost like an Onorio.

I was Jane.

I snuffled to Eli. I had no way to tell him what I had discovered, and there was more I needed to learn, so I pulled harder. I needed to shift back while I still knew who I was, but . . . the smells pulled me forward. Along the sidewalk to an apartment building. I stopped and looked up at Eli.

“They came here?” he asked.

I woofed.

“We’re on St. Charles and Second Street. The apartment building is eight stories.”

I snuffled to the entrance and sat.

“The women went inside,” he said.

I gave a human nod and it brought me back from an edge I hadn’t known I was near. Back from bloodhound-nose-brain to human thoughts. I was Jane. I needed to shift. Fast. I had been a bloodhound before and, each time, my brain adjusted faster to the scent-brain. I realized that I could easily get stuck here, in a place with so many smells, in dog form.

“Just once or many times?”

I struggled to remember what we were talking about. I patted my right paw one time.

“Okay. So the witches came through here to throw us off. Let’s go around the block. See if they came back out somewhere.”

I needed to shift, but I also needed to follow the scents. They were rich and full and intense and amazing, and I put my nose to the ground and snuffled all around the building. The witches never came out.

“They got in a car here?” Eli asked. I snuffled and I didn’t look up. Eli said same words, but I pulled on lead, searching through smells. Eli talked as I snuffled down the sidewalk. Searching. Searching. Learning. Someone had dropped chili here. Someone had bled here. Two humans had mated at this tree. Someone had peed here. A squirrel had run here. I tried to follow the squirrel, but Eli forced me into the SUV. Nunez was driving. Wanted to smell Nunez’s crotch, but Eli held me still. I chuffed and lay down. Memory of smells was wonderful, but Eli put burger in front of me. Burger smelling of pickles and ketchup and melted cheese. I wolfed it down. Was sooooo good.

CHAPTER 15

Dude Has Ugly Legs

Followed handler into house. Smelled . . . smelled things. Smelled people. Smelled witches. Knew them, but not how. Not where. Was important. And . . . sounds came in fog of confusion. Was important.

Trotted to low thing with witches. Snuffled witch crotch and . . . knew witch. Evan! Evan jumped with excitement! Made sound like rabbit in brush! Barked with happiness! Evan . . .

Angie. Little Evan. Kits. Smelled Eli. Alex. Molly and Evan!

Tail wagged, body wagging too. Happyhappyhappy! Snuffled Molly, asleep on couch. Had puppy in womb. No. Had baby. Godchild. Angie. EJ. Kits.

With names, human words, came memories of . . . Jane. I twisted my head to Eli and woofed softly.

“You’re back?” he asked.

I dropped my head. Lifted it. And trotted to my room. I pushed the door shut, but not before I heard him mutter, “Thank God.”

* * *

At nearly three thirty in the morning, I came out of my room, fully dressed and fully weaponed up, because the feel and smell of steel and silver and wood gave me a false sense of security. In the living room and kitchen I smelled coffee and witch and magic and . . . Crap.

I had never said it aloud, but I had a feeling that Beast kept part of the bloodhound’s olfactory genetics each time I shifted back from it. That genetic stealing might be making it harder to shift from hound to human. No. Not saying that. Not thinking that. Instead, when I closed my door and Eli and Alex looked up at me, I put a hand on the holstered nine-mil and leaned my back to the door. I said, “The devil will wear mukluks and a fur bikini before I spend that much time in bloodhound form again.”

“Roger that,” Eli said, sounding laconic, but smelling vastly relieved. “You’re okay?”

“Ducky. But it was too close. How long was I in dog form?”

“About six hours.”

“Next time, we cut it to three. Maybe two.”

“Good by me,” he said, sounding better, smelling better.

“Molly and Evan are upstairs?”

“Sleeping. Evan said to keep your nose out of his privates.” Eli laughed at me, but he had the decency to do it under his breath.

My face burned lightly with a flush of embarrassment. “Is he okay? Is Lachish okay?”

Eli said, “His legs are a little itchy and the skin feels tender. The hair hasn’t grown back yet and Alex said he modeled his smooth calves for everyone.”

“Dude has ugly legs,” I muttered.

Eli said, “Lachish will be okay, barring side effects. Leo sent someone to feed her. The witches have set up a healing circle. Molly is fine.”

We’d need to get the last names of the witches from Lachish. As soon as possible. “Have you heard anything about Edmund? I think I stabbed him.”

Eli breathed another laugh and turned back to the kitchen. I heard oil sizzling and smelled the scent of pancakes cooking. Maple syrup. Chai with tiny piri-piri peppers in it. Eli had found the peppers at a market, this batch imported from Portugal, and he had been adding them to my spiced tea.