“Sam,” I said urgently, both hands on the wheel again—for all the good it was going to do me. I’d only just barely kept from hitting the brakes as hard as I could, which doubtless would have caused a big pileup on the busy highway behind me. On the other hand, I could hardly keep traveling the way I was. “Sam. Sam, I can’t see.”

A mouth closed on my right wrist and tugged down and then back. As soon as he was guiding me straight, I put on my brake, gently, and rolled to a stop.

The Rabbit shook as cars blasted past us, but no one honked, so we must have made it to the shoulder. After some indefinable amount of time, the pain faded finally and left me shaken and sweating and feeling as if I’d been run over by a semi.

“We have to get home,” I said, restarting the car. My hands were shaking as I put the Rabbit in gear and made a beeline toward Finley.

I’d left Adam to deal with his pack. If something had happened to him, I’d never forgive myself for my cowardice.

WE WERE ON CHEMICAL DRIVE, THE HIGHWAY THAT LED out of the city to the countryside, when the ambulance passed us going the other direction, lights flashing but sirens off. I almost turned to follow.

No. Better to find out exactly what’s happened first. Sam isn’t a doctor today, and I can’t help anyone better than the hospital where they’re taking the victim. And maybe it wasn’t anyone I knew in the ambulance at all.

As soon as I turned down my road, I put my foot down on the gas pedal and forgot about speed limits. Ahead of us, something was billowing black smoke. There were red flashing lights—fire engines at my house, which was well on its way to becoming so much kindling.

Adam would have thought I was in there. I hadn’t told him I was leaving—because he’d have sent someone with me, someone he trusted, and I wanted him to have all of those with him.

Adam’s cry suddenly made sense, but I was terrified of what he’d done when the connection had blown. It might have felt like I had died or fallen unconscious. I should have called him instead of waiting until I could drive here.

Adam’s pack surrounded the trailer, staying out of the way of the fire department. The fire must have started while the meeting was still taking place or shortly thereafter—I firmly squelched the notion that they might have set it on fire in effigy. My eye slipped over familiar faces—there was Darryl, Auriele, Paul—and some not so familiar—Henry and George. I couldn’t find Adam anywhere in the bunch. My stomach clenched in fear at his absence.

I parked by the side of the road as close as I could get with the fire trucks everywhere, but it was still well back from the fire.

I sprinted up to the closest of Adam’s pack and grabbed her by the arm—Auriele.

“Where is Adam?” I asked.

Her irises widened in shock. “Mercy? Adam thought you were in there when it blew.”

Blew? I looked around and realized that it did look as though the trailer had simply exploded. Bits of siding, glass, and trailer were scattered a dozen yards from the burning hulk that used to be my house. The trailer had gas heat; maybe there had been a leak. How long would it have had to leak before blowing up? If it had been leaking when I left, I would have smelled gas.

Tomorrow, I’ll feel bad about losing my home and the things that are important, like my photos . . . poor Medea. I left her locked in because I always lock her in at night so she’ll be safe. I don’t want to think about what happened to her. Tonight, I have more urgent fears.

“Auriele,” I said slowly and clearly, “where is Adam?”

“Mercy!”

Arms snagged me hard and pulled me close. “Oh God, oh God, Mercy. He thought you were effing dead. Went through the side of the bloody trailer to find you.” Ben’s voice was hoarse from the smoke and almost unrecognizable. If it hadn’t been for the British accent, I wouldn’t have been certain it was him.

“Ben?” I peeled myself out of his embrace with some difficulty—and care, because the hands that clutched me convulsively were burned and blistered—but I had to be able to breathe. “Ben. Tell me where Adam is.”

“Hospital,” said Darryl, trotting over to us from where he’d been talking to some of the firemen. Darryl was Auriele’s mate and Adam’s second. “Mary Jo was able to ride in with him on the strength of her job.” Mary Jo was a werewolf whose day job was as a fireman and a trained EMT. “I’ll take you.”

I was already running back to the Rabbit. Sam somehow slithered past me when I was getting in, and when the passenger door opened, he hopped into the backseat so Ben could sit down.

“Warren’s on his way,” Ben said. His teeth were chattering with shock, and his eyes were bright wolf eyes. “He was working, couldn’t get off in time for the meeting. But I called him and told him that Adam was at the hospital.”

“Good,” I said, pulling out in a storm of gravel. “Why didn’t they take you to the hospital, too?”

Away from the fire, the scent of burnt flesh and his pain was impossible to miss. The little car’s engine roared as I opened it up on the highway. Ben closed his eyes and braced himself against the seat.

“I was still in the building,” he said. He coughed, rolled down his window, and hung out the side, choking and hacking for a while. I handed him a half-empty water bottle, and he rinsed his mouth out and spit.

He rolled up the window and took a drink. “Adam went for your bedroom, and I went for Samuel’s.” His voice was even rougher than it had been.

“How bad are you?”

“I’ll be all right. Smoke inhalation sucks.”

WE THREE BARGED INTO THE EMERGENCY ROOM. Even for a place that was used to odd things, we must have looked a sight. I glanced at Sam. He’d rolled on the ground when I wasn’t looking, covering up the remnants of bloodstains with dirt. All of us looked bedraggled, but at least I didn’t think Sam and I looked as if we’d been killing fae. Of course, we didn’t look like we’d been fighting a fire, like Ben did, either. I’d come up with some story if someone asked.

I’d forgotten that there was something more shocking about us than dirt, burns, and old, mostly washed-out bloodstains.

“Hey, you can’t bring a dog in here!” The triage nurse took three quick strides to us and met my eyes . . . and she stumbled to a halt. “Ms. Thompson? Is that a werewolf?”

“Where is Adam Hauptman?”

But a roar from the emergency room told me all I needed to know.

“Whose bright idea was it to bring him here?” I muttered, running for the double doors between the waiting room and the emergency room, Ben and Sam flanking me.

“Not me,” Ben said, sounding a little more cheerful. I think he’d been worried about what we’d find, too. “I am absolved of guilt. I was in the trailer getting toasty-warm when they sent him here.”

A gray werewolf whose fur darkened around his muzzle stood in the aisle between the patient rooms and the central counter, his change so recent that I could still see the muscles of his back realigning themselves.

He was missing large patches of fur where his skin was blackened and had bubbled up like wax. All four of his feet were hideously burnt, the singed skin a horrible imitation of the black fur that usually covered them. The curtain from the room was caught over his tail.

I stopped just inside the doors, assessing the situation.

Jody, the nurse I’d talked to the night of Samuel’s accident, was standing very still—and someone had coached her on how to behave around werewolves, because her eyes were fixed on the floor. But even from where I stood, I could smell her fear, an appetite-rousing scent for any werewolf. Mary Jo crouched in front of Adam, one hand resting on the floor, her head bowed in submission—and her tough athletic body, so fragile-appearing next to the wolf, was directly between the bystanders and her Alpha.