It took me about thirty minutes to get here through the deserted streets, and I had disconnected from Turgan for most of it. Eavesdropping on Nick and Desandra’s private time was close to dead last on the list of things I wanted to do.

The night breeze fanned my face. So nice after the heat of the day. The city around me lay empty. Anyone with a crumb of sense hid indoors at night, behind thick walls and sturdy doors.

Why Desandra? I wouldn’t have imagined those two being together in a million years. Nick was a rock in a storm, calm, steady, unmovable, never losing his temper until the very end. His was a cold kind of crazy. Desandra was a hot whirlwind, funny, unpredictable, and often wildly inappropriate. She said things that made boudas blush.

She was also deadly.

Years ago, Kate and Curran went to the Mediterranean with some heavy hitters from the Pack to get panacea, an herbal remedy that reduces the occurrence of loupism. They came back with Christopher, who was now Barabas’ husband, along with Desandra and her twin newborn sons. She made her first kill on US soil two days after she joined the Pack and within a year clawed her way to becoming the wolf alpha.

Was she using him? I couldn’t imagine what for. Well, I could imagine, but I didn’t want to.

If I delayed any longer, they might fall asleep. I shut my eyes and gingerly tried to listen through Turgan’s ears.

“…Haywood murder,” Nick said.

Oh good, good, good. Talking. Talking was great.

“Good people don’t last, but assholes live forever,” Desandra murmured.

I sank into the glowing web of Turgan’s sight and saw them through the window. They were lying in bed, Desandra’s head resting on Nick’s arm, her golden hair spilling over the pillow in a tangled curtain.

“Where was Desimir last Thursday night?” Nick asked.

“Where he usually is, home.”

“Are you sure?”

Desandra turned, leaning her head on her bent elbow so she could look at him. “Do you think my son murdered Haywood?” Her tone wasn’t hostile, just softly chiding.

“The killer flew in through the skylight, ripped the body to shreds with its claws, then went back out through the skylight. It was a cat kill.”

Desandra sighed.

“He’s going through puberty,” Nick said.

“Yes. Between him and Miladin I knock before I open any door in the house. Every sock is a possible landmine. I make them do their own laundry.”

Was there something wrong with Desimir? Desandra’d had a weird pregnancy; her two sons were born at the same time but had different fathers. Miladin was a wolf, and Desimir was a lynx. I’d babysat both when they were toddlers a dozen times. They were normal shapeshifter babies. Their magic was identical hunter green. Why would Nick think that Desimir could fly? Weirder and weirder.

“You see him every weekend,” Desandra said. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Because I don’t want him to think I suspect him.”

“But you do.”

“No, I don’t. But other people might and if it ever comes up, I want to have all my facts ready. If I have to defend him, I need to be able to honestly say where he was at the time of the murder. If you tell me he was home, I believe you. I just need you to be sure we can prove it.”

Desandra sighed again. “Was it eaten? Haywood’s body?”

“They took his heart, but no.”

“Well, there’s your answer. We both know what my son is. He also knows what he is. We raised him well. He’s a smart kid. He has no interest in power or turning into a monster. He spent Thursday at home doing what he usually does, which is reading old comic books and listening to music. There are half a dozen people besides me and Miladin who can confirm this.”

“Good.”

Desimir had nothing to do with it. No matter what he turned into, his primary magic was that of a shapeshifter. Lyc-V left a magic trail a mile long, and it colored all other magic a person might have. Years ago, before I left, Curran fed on divine beasts to gain more power and save Kate from death. He’d been a hair away from true divinity and his magic was still green. The creature that killed Pastor Haywood was golden silver.

“I know mothers don’t know everything, but I don’t see him doing this. He is a thirteen-year-old boy. Can you picture him smashing through a skylight, ripping apart a holy man he’d never met, and digging out his heart?”

“No,” Nick said. “Even if he turned, there are easier targets. He could hunt homeless in the Warren and nobody would know for years.”

Desandra traced his jaw with her fingertips. “Then why did you ask?”

“Ferara is sniffing around this case.”

Desandra collapsed onto a pillow, her arms in the air. “Of course he is.”

“Do you think he knows about Desimir?”

“If he does, Andrea or Raphael told him. Kate would never. Neither would Doolittle or the bears.”

She was right. Besides Curran, I was the closest person to Kate, and I had no idea what the hell they were talking about. This was clearly Pack business, and at least a dozen people knew, but somehow everyone who came back from that trip managed to keep this secret. Curiosity was killing me.

“Does Jim know?” Nick asked.

“I imagine he does.” A low snarl reverberated in Desandra’s throat. “He was the chief of security at the time. Curran would have told him.”

“So, this could be coming from the top or from the boudas.”

“Jim and I have never had a problem. We have our disagreements, but he isn’t petty. If he suspected something, he would’ve given it to the rats.”

Clan Rat ran the Pack’s security.

“You know Jim,” Desandra continued. “He does everything by the book, with a paper trail and receipts. No, this is coming from the boudas.”

“Ascanio could be acting on his own. He’s ambitious,” Nick mused.

Desandra grimaced. “There’s the understatement of the year.”

“If Desimir was responsible and Ascanio found the proof, would he try blackmail, or would he bring it to Jim and try to remove you?”

A golden sheen rolled over Desandra’s irises. Her hand flexed on the pillow as if it had claws. “I don’t know exactly what his game is, but I’ll find out.”

A chill dashed down my spine. Nope, she hadn’t mellowed. Not even a bit. Ascanio wasn’t stupid. Why would he screw with her?