"Long winter. Food's getting scarce."

"That would explain the scratch marks on the door."

"Yeah."

Our eyes met, exchanging a look that said we were sticking to our story, even though we both knew it was bullshit. These wolves didn't look as if they were starving. They might take Dennis's body if they found it lying outside, but to trample the snow as if they'd been pacing around the cabin for hours and trying to scratch their way in? It was too much. Too unnatural.

Clay found a battery-operated lantern and an oil one, and we lit both and looked around.

"Well," I said. "I guess we have enough work here to keep us busy until the wolves move on. I'll clean up-"

"You look for clues. Get scents. You're better at that."

And he was better at cleanup-having had more experience, though neither of us pointed that out.

We set to work. As I soon discovered, finding scents under the stench of decomposition wasn't easy.

"I'm going to crack open the window."

I pulled the drape. Glowing green eyes peered in at me. I fell back. Clay grabbed me. With the lanterns reflecting off the glass, all I could see was the dark shape of a wolf leaping off the porch. I cupped my hands against the glass. A dark-colored wolf vanished into the trees.

Black wolf. Green eyes.

Clay moved beside me, squinting to see out. "Bold bastard, wasn't he?"

I rubbed my gloved hands over my arms, pushing down the goose bumps. Black wolves weren't that unusual. Green eyes were, but I'd only seen their reflection against the light, and that often made animal eyes glint green. Besides, I could still see the gray wolves at the forest's edge and they'd never let a werewolf run past them like that.

"You okay?" Clay asked.

"He just spooked me."

Clay drew the drapes again. I walked as far as possible from the bloodstain in the middle of the cabin and got down on my hands and knees. A piercing wail sent me scrambling up.

"Wind in the chimney," Clay said.

I gave a shaky laugh. "A little jumpy tonight, aren't I?"

"With good reason."

He moved up behind me and rubbed my shoulders. When I tried to step away, he held me.

"Take a minute," he murmured. "It's only me."

I took a deep breath. It wasn't easy, being a woman in a werewolf's world, worrying that they're watching you for signs of weakness. It meant a lot to have someone in my life who didn't care if wolves at the door spooked me. If I became Alpha-his Alpha-would that change?

I leaned back against Clay and turned my head, cheek against his shoulder, inhaling. When my nerves were calm and the specter of Dennis Stillwell faded, I got back to work.

I didn't need to sniff around for long before saying, "I've got werewolf. And not just Dennis."

Clay nodded. No surprise there.

Another few minutes of sniffing. "It's the same two from the museum-the ones who attacked Reese."

Again, he nodded.

"I'm getting a third scent," I said.

"Werewolf?"

"Yep." I followed it, untangling the trail from the others. "He's related to one of the others-father, son, brother. That's why I wasn't sure I detected an older third trail in that clearing. Similar scents."

"Makes sense."

He meant both my explanation and the family relationship. It was unusual to find three werewolves together, but far more likely if at least two shared a family connection.

Clay had found a toolbox in the closet and was sanding the rough wooden floor. He couldn't buff out all the blood, but it would fade the stain, making it look like an old spill. As he did that, I walked to the dinette. The table was covered with papers and books.

"What did Dennis do for a living?" I asked.

"Electrician, I think. I remember Jeremy had him fix up the old wiring at Stonehaven."

I looked at the handwritten notes. They definitely weren't electrical diagrams.

"Hobbies?" I asked.

Clay shrugged. "Couldn't say. Jeremy would know. Why?"

I picked up a book in my gloved hand. "He seems to have been researching folklore and mythology. That must have been what he was doing at the museum."

Clay brought a lantern over and picked up a notebook as I thumbed through a sheaf of photocopied pages.

"Yeenaaldlooshii, Nagual, Wendigo… " I said. "shapeshifter myths, particularly Native American. I'm surprised he didn't contact you."

He took the papers from my hand, reading them more closely.

"I'll find a bag and we'll take his work with us."

He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the papers. He didn't stop reading until I plucked them from his hand and added them to a canvas bag I'd already filled with the rest.

"What do you think he was doing?" I asked.

"No idea. Maybe a new hobby. Getting older and looking for answers." He took the bag from me. "We should get going."

I nodded and pulled back the curtain. The nightscape was empty. Behind me, Clay checked the other windows.

"All clear?" I asked.

"Seems so."

We stepped onto the porch. I inhaled. I could still smell the wolves, their thick scent hanging in the air, but the forest was still. We walked around the perimeter of the clearing.

"Vanished into the night," I murmured. "Just curious? They might be used to Dennis, so our scent doesn't spook them."

"Could be."

Clay surveyed the forest, but we heard only the whine of the wind.

"Let's go."

BEAST

WHEN WE REACHED the head of the trail, Clay turned and peered back at the cabin. Following his gaze, I saw a snowmobile parked at the far end of the deck.

"There wasn't a truck," I said.

He glanced over. "What?"

"I was just thinking. Dennis must have driven to the snowmobile shed in a truck, but there wasn't one on the road. Whoever killed him must have taken it, presumably so none of his neighbors would notice. Are you thinking we should do the same with the snowmobile? Put it back in the shed?"

"Good idea, but I was just looking for a faster way out of here. I don't want to be caught on a trail if those wolves come back."

On cue, a howl reverberated through the night. Another answered. I tracked the sound.