Guess there’s something to be said for magic after all.

Which brought to mind the gift Sariel said she possessed. Days ago, she’d have dismissed the idea as insane. Now? She’d seen so much in the short time since she’d arrived at the compound, it was mind-blowing. She wasn’t crazy, so that left only one other option.

And she was beginning to believe.

Micah was a Dreamwalker, Nick had claimed. She and her brother had shared dreams since their childhood. Were they able to do that because they shared the same gift? How could she find out?

A headache began to form, so she stopped thinking about anything but getting to her brother. Nothing else was as important.

The Huey began its descent and she checked her watch. Almost two hours they’d been in the air, and it seemed like eons. In minutes the copter touched down and the men prepared to disembark, some checking weapons. All of them, she suspected, qualified as a weapon themselves.

Rowan filed out behind the men, standing off to the side to avoid bumping into anyone as they gathered. Checking out their surroundings, she noted they’d landed in a field bordered by woods on all sides and majestic mountains in the distance, all of it against the vast, beautiful backdrop of a full moon and a zillion stars.

“This is a change,” Jaxon commented. “Chappell usually prefers to set up his clandestine operations in or near major cities.”

Nick agreed. “Don’t know why he thought moving one of his sites to Bumfuck, Colorado, would draw less attention from the locals. Took a while for our government contacts to sniff this one out, but his tactic eventually backfired.”

“Still think we should’ve gone in hot,” Ryon said anxiously. “I don’t like giving the goons time to find out we’re here. Those Hueys can be heard for miles.”

His comment earned him a smack in the back of the head from the bald guy, Hammer. “Idiot. You forgetting last time we went in guns blazing? They were waiting for us, which is how things went to hell and they snatched Aric.”

The blond’s expression was suddenly haunted. “They’ll be ready for us, anyway. The ghosts around us, some of their victims, I think, are urging us to be careful.”

Rowan stared at him. Ryon’s “gift” is communicating with the dead? The others get to do all sorts of cool stuff and this poor guy gets stuck with being followed around by a bunch of stiffs? Jesus, that sucks.

“This time we go in quiet,” Nick reiterated. “Remember, watch for traps or any signs of an ambush. Detain any personnel who are on duty and liberate all prisoners. Grant has ground transportation waiting close to the target to assist with the victims who need urgent care. Let’s go—and be careful. We can’t afford another screwup.”

As they moved out, she jogged behind the group, thinking not only of Micah but also of the other man, Aric. The Pack was devastated over the loss of all their men in the past few years, but Aric’s capture was recent, salt poured into a reopened wound. The guys spoke of him with equal parts aggravation and reverence, and she wondered what he’d be like. For some reason beyond the obvious one that he was their friend who was in danger, she hoped she would have the chance to know him.

She was so engrossed in her musings, she failed to see a fallen log the others had cleared easily. Cursing, she jumped at the last second and almost did a face plant in the undergrowth. Then she nearly ran right into Zan’s back when Nick, in the lead, brought the group to an abrupt halt.

“Wait!” Nick cocked his head. “I could’ve sworn I heard a woman’s voice.”

“I heard it, too,” Zan said, looking around. “Sounded like she said ‘shit.’”

Rowan repeated the word, in her head. Damn it, Sariel’s spell must be wearing off. But if it just would last until they reached their destination, Nick might not send her back to the helicopter.

“Maybe it was one of Ryon’s spirits?” Jax suggested.

“I’m not sure, but I guess anything’s possible,” Ryon speculated. “They can sometimes gather enough energy to make themselves heard.”

After a few tense moments, Nick led them on. Though she was a police officer and in great physical shape, it was a miracle that she kept up, since their night vision and endurance far surpassed hers. By the time the boss slowed and signaled his men to crouch, she was drenched in sweat. The others weren’t even winded.

Squatting at the end of the line beside Zan, she caught her breath and peered through the trees at the building illuminated by moonlight. Not just any building, she realized, but an old abandoned church, as evidenced by crumbling walls, sagging roof, and the weeds dotting what once must’ve been a pretty lawn, the tallest of them sprouting almost to the bottom edge of the broken stained-glass windows.

“What a fuckin’ disgrace,” Hammer hissed. “Using a house of God for the sick shit they’re doing.”

The others muttered their wholehearted agreement.

“Where are they hiding their cars?” Jax mused. “The lot is empty.”

“Who cares? Let’s kick some ass.”

“Damned straight.”

Spirits ran high. She felt the adrenaline, the excitement among the Pack, not so different from when she and her fellow officers worked a dangerous call. But in that moment, she sensed a tangible bond among these men that ran deeper than what she had with her peers. These men truly were brothers in all but birth, their bond forged by blood, tears, and struggle.

Moving soundlessly, they left cover, splitting into two groups. Nick led Hammer and Kalen directly to the front, while Jax headed around to the back, followed by Zan and Ryon. For no particular reason other than a gut feeling, because subjects who fled a scene typically hauled ass out the back way, Rowan opted to go with Jax’s team. What she expected was runners, maybe armed, perhaps a round or two popped off.

What she wasn’t expecting was a full-out war.

The back of the church erupted in a collective roar, black shadows detaching themselves from the doorway and several open windows. As prepared as the team believed themselves to be, it was immediately clear they were outnumbered—and facing something horribly familiar.

“Not those fucking bastards,” Zan hissed, bringing up his hand cannon.

“And this time they’ve got help.” With that, Jax shifted into a big gray wolf and ran to meet the enemy, leaving his clothes and human weapons in a pile on the ground.

Rowan didn’t have a spare second to marvel at seeing a man shift into his animal for the first time. Fear for her new comrades propelled her forward and she dove for Jax’s discarded gun as Zan opened fire on a creature hell itself must’ve birthed.

Like its buddies, the thing had leathery black wings, a stout, hairy body, and a greenish wrinkled and cracked face not even a mother could love. Saliva dripped from razor-sharp teeth in its gaping mouth, and it rushed Zan, obviously intent on tearing the man to shreds.

Zan’s shots barely slowed the beast, and it closed the gap, fast. In one fluid motion, Rowan raised her gun, sighted its head, and fired. The beast’s skull exploded, and it dropped in midstride, sliding to a halt at Zan’s boots.

“Shit!” His face reflected the terror of his close call. Then he seemed to realize it wasn’t his shot that had brought the thing down, and he glanced around in confusion before rejoining the battle and assisting his friends.

A surge of adrenaline flooded her veins. This invisibility stuff came in handy; too bad she couldn’t use it on the force. She took advantage now, though, picking off the ghouls left and right, doing her best to keep the ones closest to the men from reaching them. The Pack was too busy to investigate the source and the beasts were too stupid.

But her luck was bound to run out. When one of the ugly bastards swung his head in her direction, yellow eyes meeting hers and blazing with hatred, she knew Sariel’s spell had finally worn off. In mute horror, she raised her gun, got off a shot as it charged. And missed.