Before Antone could answer, Nast started out the door. “You need to control her, Calvin. We have two other skin-walkers in custody and another nearby. We don’t need four of them.”

NINETEEN

ANTONE TRIED TO CALM me down after that, to convince me Nast’s threat was empty. But that threat was the last thing on my mind. I was freaked out about what I’d just done—that rage-blind attack on Nast. Was it a sign that I was reverting? Of course Nast would say that—another reason for me to need his Cabal. I couldn’t put too much stock in his diagnosis.

My real worry was the guys. For now, I had to trust Ash was long gone, out of danger. I had to trust Daniel could look after himself. I had to believe he was fine, just battered and bruised and holed up somewhere with Corey. The alternative? I couldn’t even think of the alternative.

When Antone finally left, I didn’t really notice. The next thing I knew, I was being bowled over by a furry cannonball.

I looked up to see a German shepherd looming over me.

“Kenjii!”

I hugged her so tight she wriggled until I let go, then she bathed my face with her tongue, shoving me back on the bed every time I tried to get up. Finally I pushed her away, laughing.

“Now that’s a sound I like to hear,” said a voice. “I just hope I get the same reception as the dog.”

I looked up to see a guy my age, with straight dark hair down to his collar, amber eyes dancing with a grin that turned an ordinary face gorgeous. Nast had said they had two other skin-walkers in custody, but I’d been too shocked over Daniel to process what that meant.

I launched myself at Rafe. He caught me and hugged me as tightly as I’d hugged Kenjii.

“You okay?” he whispered as he let me go.

I thought of Daniel and could only nod, gaze dropping. He lifted my chin and I knew he was going to kiss me but I backed off, still holding his hands, struggling to smile.

“Maya?”

Rafe stepped toward me. I retreated to the bed and collapsed there. Kenjii lay down with her head on my lap. Rafe reached to move the papers on the bed aside. Then he saw what they were. The photos. He leafed through them, once quickly, then slower, before he sucked in breath and swore.

“That’s . . .”

I nodded.

“He was . . .”

I nodded again.

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Is he . . . okay?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “They haven’t found him.”

Rafe sat on the edge of the bed with me.

Rafe set the photos aside, facedown. “They’re lying. They doctored photos to spook you.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do.” He straightened. “I’m sure of it.”

I shook my head. “We were separated. Daniel didn’t meet up with us. The only reason he’d do that is if he . . . couldn’t.”

“Temporarily. He’d have found you as soon as he could.”

Rafe drew my gaze up to the vent. A microphone or camera, I was guessing. Rafe was warning me not to say anything that could lead them to Daniel. I nodded and leaned against his shoulder.

He put his arm around me. “Daniel’s fine. You know he is.”

I nodded, closed my eyes, and tried to believe it.

When I felt a little better, I looked around. I’d known I was in a bedroom. Now I noticed the double bed, closet, desk, and dresser. It looked—

I fought back a chill.

It looked like my room. Not exactly—there were no photos or mementos. The furniture was different. But it was the same kind of pieces in the same configuration. I hadn’t recognized it because the most important part of my bedroom had not been duplicated. I had huge windows along two walls that opened onto the wraparound second-story balcony. Mom’s design, one that let me feel like I was outdoors even when I wasn’t.

There was, to my surprise, a window here. Just a normal-sized one. It looked out onto what seemed like an empty blue sky, but when I walked over to it, I could see the glass was opaque. It let in light, but wouldn’t let me look out. I rapped the pane.

“Shatterproof,” Rafe said. “Believe me, I’ve tried. Broke my desk chair throwing it at mine.”

“What’d they do?”

“Gave me a stern talking-to about damaging property, while letting me know that they understood the urge to act out.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s like being in a group home. No one ever gets mad about anything. They take away privileges, but they don’t get angry—they just want to talk about it.”

“They don’t want us feeling like we’re in a prison.”

“Sometimes I’d prefer a prison. This is just creepy.” He walked over to stand beside me at the window. “They say that when we accept the situation, they’ll replace these with glass we can actually see through.”

“Really? And they’ll make them breakable, too?”

He laughed and put his arm around my waist. “Not a chance. But we will get field trips. To the mall and stuff. Because I know you love going to the mall.”

I shuddered. He laughed again and pulled me against him, our hips bumping, his fingers warm, his smell washing over me, a familiar musky scent, skin-walker scent. I relaxed a little, then stiffened.

“Field trips? So we’re . . . stuck indoors. All the time?”

He rubbed down the goose bumps rising on my arm. “There’s a yard. With a twelve-foot wood fence and guards with tranq guns. There’s a rooftop exercise area, too. More walls that we can’t see past or climb over. Like a big kitty playground, with huge balls of yarn and wind-up mice to chase.”

I stared at him.

“I’m kidding. Kind of. They have a boxing ring and weights for the benandanti and balance beams and hurdles for us. It sounds awful, and I’ve been really tempted to ignore it, but the fresh air and the exercise . . . ?” He shrugged. “It helps keep me from going nuts while I figure out a way . . .”

He glanced at the vent and didn’t finish.

“Any luck with that?” I murmured.

“Not really. Scoping the situation for now.”

“So we’re in . . . a lab? A compound of some sort?”

He shook his head. “A house. Huge mansion of a place. It doesn’t smell like city, so I think we’re outside Vancouver. They’re still working on the house, but it was pretty much ready to go when we arrived, which makes me think the St. Clouds had been working on it for a while.”