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  Tain turned a quiet gaze on her, not offended. “Samantha is waiting over there.” He pointed at a dark SUV in front of the next house. “Why don’t you go sit with her?” His accent was unusual for west L.A.—Welsh, Tain always said it was, but Logan knew it came from a time long before Wales had been its own entity. Tain was an Immortal warrior, born nearly two millennia ago.

  “I’m not leaving,” Nadia said.

  Logan wanted to demand she go wait with Samantha, but he knew he’d waste his breath. Unless he knocked Nadia unconscious and tied her up in the back of the SUV, she wouldn’t stay there. Samantha herself would join them as soon as there was any action. She’d been a good cop, and she wouldn’t let her friends and her husband enter a fray without backing them up.

  Logan sensed many more people in the dark than the shadows revealed. Some had black auras, demons. Others had powerful life magic, and still others were human. Tain and Nez had been busy.

  “Let me talk to them,” Logan said.

  Tain gazed at the windows, and Logan felt a faint tightening in his head, as though someone had wrapped a light band around it. “Speak in a normal voice,” Tain said. “They’ll hear you.”

  “I’m here,” Logan began without bothering to ask Tain what magic spell he’d done. “I’ll come in alone, but only if you let the little boy and his grandparents out first.”

  There was a silence. Nadia stood tense at his side, fists clenched.

  A front window opened. “You come in first,” someone called to him. “Leave your weapons.”

  Logan recognized the voice, one of the pack who’d been Matt’s sycophants.

  “Where’s Matt?” Logan asked.

  “Waiting for you.” The wolf sounded smug.

  “All right. I come in—you let them out.”

  Tain gave Logan a look and shook his head slightly, telling him not to believe them, but Logan knew the wolves would only be happy if they thought they’d be able to rip into Logan. They didn’t care what happened to Joel and his grandparents.

  Logan stripped off his fleece coat, no longer required in balmy Los Angeles, and shrugged off his shoulder holster and pistol. He slid up the leg of his jeans, unstrapped the witch-spelled blade, and handed both knife and pistol to Nadia. His 9mm was in his duffle bag, still with the motorcycle.

  “That’s all of it,” Logan said to the house. “I’m coming in.”

  Nadia gave him a scared look. Logan brushed his hand over her cheek and kissed her. She looked surprised, after all his anger at the motel, but Logan didn’t have time for talking, to tell her what he felt. He determined to come out of this alive so he could tell her, and take her in his arms again. They had a lot to work through, and they needed the time to do it.

  He turned to Tain. “Don’t do anything until Joel makes it to Nadia, all right?”

  Tain gave him a nod. “Get the boy out the door, and I’ll take care of it.”

  Logan knew Tain had the power to blow the roof off the house and destroy everyone inside, and that it must have been hard for him not to. He was glad Tain had worried about hurting the innocents. Tain had come a long way since arriving in Los Angeles, half crazed and dangerous, the year before. Samantha had been his salvation.

  Logan squared his shoulders and strode down the walk to the front door.

  The house had been built about thirty years ago, and the front entrance was typical of that time—a double door with solid panels on the bottom half and cross-hatch panes on the upper. The panes were covered with opaque curtains for privacy, but Logan didn’t have to see inside. The powerful musk of werewolves ready to kill came to him all the way down the walk.

  Four of them, angry to the point of insanity—and Matt himself. Three of Matt’s wolves were still in their human forms; one had already changed. Logan could hear the wolf snarling softly as well as the quick breathing of the three humans they’d trapped.

  Logan tapped gently on the window glass. “It’s Logan. Let them out.”

  A werewolf wrenched open the door. His eyes were flat wolf yellow, his teeth already elongating. “Put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.”

  Logan clenched his jaw, but he assumed the position, placing his hands on the stucco of the outside wall. The werewolf patted him down, but before he turned away, finished, he slammed his forearm upward into Logan’s balls.

  Through the sudden pain, Logan heard him say, “He’s clean.”

  “Send the kid out,” Logan repeated, straightening up, pretending he wasn’t hurting.

  “Sure, whatever.” The werewolf jerked Logan inside.

  The slate-floored foyer gave way to a living room that was one step down. A man and woman in their fifties sat in separate armchairs, each guarded by a werewolf with a semi-automatic pistol.

  The fourth of Matt’s henchmen, the one who’d already turned wolf, stood guard over a ten-year-old boy who had Nadia’s eyes. Joel was sitting in a corner, the large gray wolf’s body blocking him from the rest of the living room.

  Joel looked afraid, but not terrified. Logan sensed his demon magic in him, not very strong, his human side dampening most of it. But Logan scented the anger in him, a death-magic being not happy that life-magic creatures held him hostage.

  The werewolf who’d patted down Logan jerked his chin at the two guarding the man and woman. Those werewolves backed a few steps from the captives but didn’t put away their pistols.

  “Out,” the first werewolf said.

  The woman looked at Joel. The wolf in front of the little boy snarled at her, daring her to come and try to take him.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Logan said. “Go to Nadia.”

  The woman nodded, but he read anger, frustration, and fear in her eyes. She walked with her husband out the door the first werewolf held open, while the remaining werewolves trained their pistols on Logan.

  “And Joel,” Logan said.

  “The kid stays,” the first werewolf said.

  “That wasn’t the bargain.”

  “It’s the bargain now.” The werewolf had thin brown hair that needed a trim and glittering dark eyes. Aaron, Logan thought his name was. “Either the kid stays or we shoot his grandparents on the sidewalk. How’s that?”

  Logan corralled his anger with effort. “If you guarantee Joel’s safety, I won’t kill you.”

  Aaron chuckled. “You’re out of your territory, Packmaster. You don’t get any guarantees.”

  Joel looked over the wolf’s back at Logan. “Is my mom okay?” he asked in a steady voice.

  “She’s fine,” Logan said. “Worried about you, but fine.”

  Joel looked relieved. “She always worries about me.”

  “You’re being held hostage by a pack of idiot werewolves. Of course she’s worried.”

  Joel grinned. He was afraid, but mastering it. “Good point.”

  “Don’t push it, Logan,” a new voice rumbled.

  Matt Lewis leaned against the doorframe to the back hall. He was naked and not self-conscious about it, which meant he was close to going wolf. His eyes glowed yellow as he watched Logan, and Logan noticed he’d positioned himself so the light would gleam on his tight body. Matt was big, the largest wolf in the pack, and he had a bully’s personality to match.

  Logan met his gaze and held it, no looking away in submission, no acknowledging that Matt was the alpha. “I accept the challenge,” Logan said. “But you send Joel out before it begins.”

  “Challenge?” Matt laughed, his voice thick with a wolf snarl. “Did you think I’d let you have the honor of the challenge? No, I’m just going to kill you.”

  “I don’t really give a shit what you plan,” Logan said, scowling. “But Joel is leaving.”

  “No.” The word was hard. “What I’m going to do is sit you down and shoot you in the head with a couple of silver bullets. That’s what we do to pack traitors. You let me do that, Logan, or my wolves tear the boy apart in front of you. What’s it going to be?”

  Logan c
alculated the distance between himself and the two werewolves with weapons. He might be able to reach them and take them down before they could fire, but there was nothing to stop the wolf guarding Joel from simply killing him with a swipe of his huge paw.

  “Fine.” Logan opened his hands. “Shoot me. But first call off the wolf and let the kid go. Once Joel is out the door and safely with his mother, you can shoot me all you want to.”

  Matt looked slightly surprised. “You’d die for a half-demon kid?”

  Logan shrugged. “He has nothing to do with this. This is your game, not his.”

  Matt’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not a game, Logan.”

  Logan shook his head. “Nope. Not anymore. Once you leave pack law behind, you’ve lost your hold on the pack.”

  “I haven’t lost my hold on the pack,” Matt snarled. “The most dominant female is my mate, and I’ve chosen a new Packmaster.”

  Logan’s gaze went to the wolf guarding Joel. “Is that him? What did Kayla tell me his name was—Karl?”

  “He’s a hell of a better Packmaster than you ever were. Karl obeys me.”

  “That’s not the Packmaster’s job,” Logan said in a hard voice. “Packmasters uphold the law of the pack; they don’t cater to the leader’s whims. Our loyalty is to pack law, no matter who the leader happens to be.”

  “You always had a fucking big mouth, you know that?” Matt’s gaze didn’t move from Logan. “The kid, is he yours?”

  “You know he isn’t. You’d sense it if he were part werewolf.”

  “But he’s the spawn of your demon lover. You betray your own kind, starting the bond with a death-magic demon. You make me sick.”

  “I spared your life,” Logan said. “And gave you Kayla.”

  Matt’s voice grated with his anger. “You ran away from the challenge because you’re a coward.”

  “I admit I made a mistake,” Logan said evenly. “I thought I was helping the pack by leaving, but I should have killed you instead. If I had, the pack wouldn’t be tearing itself apart now.”

  “It isn’t tearing itself apart. I’m still the pack leader. A few assholes have decided to cause trouble because you left, is all. They think they deserve more than their fair share.”

  Logan shook his head. “Kayla sounded scared to me.”

  Matt’s eyes took on a red glint, and he took a step toward Logan. “If you touched Kayla . . .”

  Logan gave him an impatient look. “I talked to her on the phone. She thinks I’ll kill you. She begged me not to.”

  “The bitch.” Matt was on the edge of shifting, the stink of his fury permeating the air. “Here’s what we’ll do. You fetch your so-called mate in here. I’ll fuck the demon whore and then let her kid go.”

  “No.” The wolf in Logan snarled in black rage, but Logan the human tamped it down. The second Logan leapt at Matt, one of the other werewolves would shoot Logan or maybe Joel. He had to be careful.

  “Then I get the kid,” Matt said. “And I try to turn him. Wonder if it would work with a demonspawn?”

  Logan went cold. Werewolves had evolved over the centuries to breed with other werewolves, and nowadays, most werewolves were born, not made. A human could still be turned by other werewolves, but it was unusual, excruciatingly painful, and most often ended in the death of the would-be werewolf. Logan had never heard of a werewolf trying to turn a child.

  “Fight me,” Logan said in a hard voice. “If you want to stay pack leader so bad, face the challenge.”

  “And have your warrior friend take me out the minute we start fighting?” Matt folded his arms. “I want a guarantee I can get away, and that guarantee is the little demon boy.”

  Logan’s wolf urged him to rip into him. Only his years controlling himself to be a good detective with the paranormal police stopped him. “I’ll tell them to give you and your wolves safe passage. Leave Joel alone.”

  “Like I’m going to trust you.” Matt moved his gaze to Joel. “I’ve already bitten the kid once.”

  Logan risked a glance at Joel, and the boy nodded slowly, putting his hand under his left armpit. There was no blood on his shirt, which meant Matt hadn’t been trying to savage. He’d been claiming a prize.

  “Why do you want him?” Logan asked, turning back to Matt.

  “Souvenir.”

  “Why? Can’t you and Kayla have kids?” From the new rage on Matt’s face, Logan knew he’d guessed right. “Adopt from the pack, then,” Logan continued. “A half demon couldn’t take over as leader anyway.”

  “No, but he’d be mine.” Matt ended on a wolf growl, and his face changed. His jaw curled back to reveal his huge teeth, and he swung toward Joel.

  “Joel,” Logan said rapidly. “Lie flat on the ground and put your hands over your head.”

  Joel unquestioningly lay facedown on the floor. Matt ran in a half-crouch to the boy and stood over him, growling.

  Aaron, the first werewolf, cocked his pistol and pointed it at Logan. “Get on your knees.”

  Matt snarled at the wolf guarding Joel, his human speech returning. “Packmaster. Execute.”

  The big wolf morphed into a large man with a shaved head. He picked up a sword from behind the chair Joel’s grandfather had occupied, the silver Packmaster’s sword Logan had once carried.

  “I thought you were going to shoot me,” Logan said to Matt, keeping his voice calm. “With silver bullets.”

  The new Packmaster looked at Logan with grim purpose. “Sword’s the better way.”

  “Do it,” Matt said, his words barely intelligible. “Or the kid dies.”

  Joel was going to die anyway, Logan knew. Tain wouldn’t have time to get Joel out before Matt ripped into to the boy.

  Logan sank slowly to his knees, his heart beating swiftly. He deliberately suppressed his wolf, knowing the others would sense his change if he started it. As Packmaster, he’d always been calm and cool, never betraying his emotions when he faced a member of the pack who needed to be disciplined. That calm was a long way from him now, but he managed to fake it.

  The cold edge of the sword pressed Logan’s neck, the silver stinging. The Packmaster lifted the sword high and brought it down.

  But Logan wasn’t there. He’d rolled, his vision going red as he changed. His clothes ripped from his body, but he didn’t notice the small pain of that as he leapt at Matt.

  Matt became wolf as they both hit the floor. Logan tore into the bigger wolf, teeth and claws ripping, fur and blood flying as they rolled together across the slate of the entryway.

  Logan heard the other wolves cursing, Karl shouting something, and then the sudden roar of a gun. Harsh pain bit into Logan’s back, along with a fiery burn as a silver bullet went deep inside him and started its destruction.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The sound of the gunshot froze Nadia’s heart. “Joel!” she screamed.

  The demon in her glowed white hot, and her wings unfurled, tearing the sweatshirt Logan had given her. She heard Samantha call out, but Nadia rose on outstretched wings and swooped toward the house, her demon fury bursting loose.

  “Nadia,” Samantha shouted again. “Get down!”

  Nadia felt a huge wave of life magic pour past her. The air filled with the magic, twisting around the very molecules of existence and erasing every bit of darkness in before it.

  Nadia’s wings gave out, and she fell facedown to the grass, the stifling life magic making her sick. She lifted her head to see Tain, his swords held straight out in front of him, snakes of electricity sparking up and down the blades. Another blast left his swords and hit the house, the magic surrounding it like the net had surrounded Nadia in the woods. The windows and doors of the house exploded outward, glass and wood splintering to rain across the lawn.

  “Joel,” Nadia cried.

  She heard his answering shriek. “Mom!”

  Nadia started running and launched herself into the air, her demon wings carrying her straight into the house.

  Logan
fought Matt in fury, the two wolves meeting in a frenzy of fur and fang.

  He lost track of Joel, but hoped the boy would run outside to safety. Logan felt Matt’s teeth ripping his flesh, claws sinking deep. The bullet in his back burned like fire. It hadn’t struck a vital organ, but the poison of the silver was weakening him and would kill him before long.

  Logan fought hard, landing punishing blows, trying to lock his mouth around Matt’s throat. Matt reeked of wolf anger, his claws scrabbling as he went for Logan’s underbelly.

  The other wolves had backed off. Logan saw Karl the Packmaster out of the corner of his eye, waiting, his silver sword held between the other wolves and Matt and Logan. This would be the challenge, a fight to the death. This was pack law in action.

  Something bright white slammed into the room, death magic flowing from it. The werewolves cringed away from it, but Matt, in a blood frenzy didn’t notice.

  Nadia’s black wings snapped against her white body, and she struck, feet first, into one of the wolves. That wolf turned and attacked her, only to meet one of Tain’s swords. Tain crossed his twin blades, and white-hot magic sparked through the air.

  “Where’s Joel?” Nadia yelled.

  Dimly Logan heard Samantha’s voice and Nez’s reply, both of them in full cop mode. “Contain this,” Nez snapped to his uniforms.

  Silver nets were slung through the air, trapping the watching werewolves. The Packmaster fought it the hardest, but he went down with his wolves. Matt snarled at the stench of silver, and Logan’s nostrils burned.

  “No,” the Packmaster shouted as the police and Tain converged on Matt and Logan. “Let them fight it out. There has to be a clear winner, or we do this all over again.”

  “Screw that,” Nadia said.

  Her bare feet connected with Matt, her demon strength bowling between him and Logan. Matt didn’t stop tearing at Logan, his wolf fighting for his life and his place in the pack. Killing Nadia, Logan’s mate, would give Matt great advantage.

  Logan felt himself going weaker still, the silver bullet doing its damage. Nadia was at full strength, having imbibed a huge amount Logan’s life essence, even so many hours ago. Her demon turned savage, claws ripping at Matt, fur and blood erupting everywhere.