Page 66 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

“We didn’t find Margaux. Did you pick up on anything that might help us find her?”

Another head shake, this time accompanied by a flash of side eye.

“I know what I saw, Cecil. The vision was hideous. Blood all over the foyer.” I squeezed Margaux’s charm, which still hung around my neck. “He could’ve used a spell to clean it up, but then where’s Margaux? Did he kill her or is she just unconscious? Where’s Bronwyn? And Floyd’slookingfor Ronan? He doesn’t have him? Nothing makes sense.”

I snatched up the heavy null bag and went into Desmond’s bedroom, Cecil and Fennel behind me. The room was decorated—and I used the term loosely—in shades of gray and white. A queen bed with a gray comforter, two gray nightstands, one gray dresser with attached mirror. The wall decorations were black and white landscapes. There wasn’t a speck of color in the room, not a patterned throw pillow or even a colorful afghan draped over the foot of the bed.

It looked like a prison.

“Search carefully,” I said. “I have no idea what he’s up to, but I really don’t like the way everyone seems to be acting opposite to their nature today—Margaux’s selflessness, Mason’s protection, and now Desmond’s about-face on the pack? I feel like I slipped into another dimension.”

I tried to inspect the room for traps before allowing the guys in, but Cecil ignored me—as usual—and followed me inside.

There was one half-assed sneezing spell near the window.Strange. I’d cast more powerful spells in preschool. These would barely slow down a human, much less a magical or shifter.

Another example of Desmond’s laziness? That was my guess.

Fennel trotted into the master bathroom, Cecil darted under the bed, and I checked everything else. The room was sparse and dust-free. The dresser drawers had been ransacked. The closet had been too, and there were three matching suitcases on a shelf in the back. One was packed with women’s clothing. The others were empty, but there was a leather duffel on the floor stuffed with men’s clothing, toiletries, and a pair of running shoes. The clothing wasn’t right for it to have been a gym bag, and the shoes still had tags on them.

We didn’t find a passport or other form of identification, nor did we find a cell phone—not in the bedroom, office, or anywhere else. He might not have had time to grab his bag, but he might not have needed to. A person could get pretty far with a cell phone, some cash, and a passport.

But why would he run? Sure, he’d lost his wife, but he’d had to know that day would come eventually. He wasn’t a stupid man, just lazy and cruel. And everything else had seemed to be going his way.

He’d gotten control of the coven. He’d taken down Margaux. Twice. He had more power at his fingertips than ever. Four witches, even weak ones, bonded within a coven were dangerous.

That theWeret-hekau Maleficiumhad been in his possession showed that he’d aligned himself with Alpha Floyd, arguably the most powerful alpha leader in Smokethorn County.

So what was going on?

“You droveby all the places on the list?” Maya wrapped her hands around a sweating glass of ice water and sat back in the kitchen chair.

It was four o’clock by the time we returned home. I texted Beau a thumbs up while Cecil hauled the null bag into the garden room todestroy it. The gnome seemed disappointed he hadn’t gotten to fire off one of his explosives.

Fennel curled up in his bed. Attacking wolves was tiring work, and Fennel believed in conserving his strength.

“Every single one,” I replied.

“It’s like he vanished off the face of the earth.” Ida’s brows lowered. “Is that possible? Could he have tricked a demon into opening a portal into Purgatory like you, Fennel, and I did with that fool Gnath? Or maybe opened some kind of pocket universe? I heard on this podcast I listen to that there are witches and mages who can do that sort of thing. They use them to travel huge distances.”

“Are you talking aboutHorrified? I listen to it, too. IloveEliza.” Maya took a sip of water. “She’s got that whole Elvira, Mistress of the Dark vibe down pat.”

“Eliza mixes the truth with fiction on her show. Pretty sure that’s the fiction part,” I said.

Ida slid a sandwich in front of me. “Are you saying it’s impossible?”

“Nothing is impossible, but it’s so outside the realm of reason it’s more accurate to say that it is than that it isn’t.” I took a bite of the peanut butter sandwich, chewed, swallowed. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast—a dumb mistake. I needed to stay strong now more than ever.

“No, Desmond’s hiding somewhere in this world. And I think he has Margaux and Bronwyn with him.”

“But not Ronan?” Ida asked.

“Possibly. But what I don’t understand is why he’d be keeping Ronan from Floyd. If Floyd wanted Ronan dead and Desmond was the killer he’d hired to do it, why wouldn’t he just turn him over to the pack? And where does Mason figure into all this? Nothing is making sense.”

“I wish I could remember the things Desmond said when I was under that spell.” Maya shivered. “I’ve been trying so hard, but it’s all such a blur. I remember the cleaning and the cooking. The screamingand yelling. That icky magic book he made me polish with that rancid-smelling stuff—nothing else.”

“Don’t force it,” Ida said. “It’ll come or it won’t, and worrying yourself sick won’t help anyone. You need to keep calm. Maybe take your rat for a run around the park. I told everyone to leave you alone but stay away from that trailer over there—” She flung a hand in the direction of Señora Cervantes’s place. “She’s a grouch.”

I put down my sandwich, remembering that I’d promised to send Beau a text when I was safe. I picked up my cell and sent him a thumbs-up emoji. He immediately liked the message, which told me he’d been waiting for the text.

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