“Who’s Leland Blum?” Spencer asked.

Robyn twisted the clip again, and the cuff popped open with a metallic click. “Yes!” She raised both fists in triumph, and though steering wheel remained on her lap, the open cuff still swung against her arm. “Damn it. I should have opened the other one.” She bent over her arm again, this time working on the half of the cuff attached to her wrist.

“Robyn,” I said. “Spence is the only one who knew about Justus.”

“Yes. But he knows because we told him,” she said with exaggerated patience as she twisted the clip. “We were wrong, Titus. Someone out there knows Justus is a shifter because he—or she—is the one who infected him. Although statistically, it’s highly unlikely to be a woman.”

“No kidding,” Spencer said. “Aren’t female shifters, like, only one in ten?”

“It’s something like that for natural-born werecats, but women are dramatically less common among strays.” The pin clicked again, yet her cuff didn’t pop open. “But I don’t have any numbers on gender imbalance among bruins, and from what I’ve heard, there is no imbalance among thunderbirds.”

“Hey. Focus.” Every second that passed reminded me that we were no closer to finding or helping Justus. “I’m still waiting for Nancy Drew to use her legendary powers of deduction to tell me who infected my brother.”

Robyn looked up at me again, and her scowl was like a bolt of thunder. “I’m smart, but I’m not psychic. On the bright side, we’ve eliminated one suspect.” She gave Spencer an apologetic smile. “But we may not know who the bad guy is until we actually pull off his mask.”

“Isn’t that more a Scooby Doo thing than a Nancy Drew thing?” Spence asked.

“Yes. But Titus is too upset right now to keep his dated pop culture references straight.” Robyn gave the paperclip another vicious twist, and the last cuff popped open. “Thank goodness.” She turned to me with fire flashing behind her eyes. “If you ever handcuff me to anything other than a headboard again, I will shave your entire body while you sleep. Including your eyebrows. And if you don’t think I can pull that off, I will put you in touch with a couple of Pi Kappa brothers who can show you photographic evidence to the contrary!”

Spencer turned to me with arched brows. “Headboard?”

“Spence, may I use your restroom?” she asked, before I could decide whether or not to admit that Robyn and I were together. Assuming I hadn’t ruined the best thing to ever happen to me.

“Of course.” He pointed into his bedroom. “Through there, on the right. There’re only two choices. The other one’s a closet.” When the door closed behind her, Spencer chuckled. “She’s really pissed, man.”

Yes. Yes, she was. “And yet I have more pressing concerns. Yesterday we found Corey Morris’s fellow partygoers in the cabin where he left them. Ivy was dead from scratch fever, and Leland Blum was a newly infected stray, stuck in feline form. We kept Blum with us overnight, then dropped him at his dorm before we came to see you this afternoon. Afterward, we went to pick him up and found him dead in his own dorm room.”

“Holy shit, Titus.” Spencer leaned back on his couch, clearly stunned. “You thought I had something to do with all that?”

“Obviously I was wrong, and I apologize. But we’re pretty sure that Blum’s killer is going after my brother next, and I can’t stop that if I can’t find either of them.”

“I might be able to help you there.” Spencer stood and headed into his small kitchen, where he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “The stray who came in last night was in pretty good shape. His wound was so fresh it was still bleeding, and he didn’t have much of a fever yet. On our way to your house, he told me about the party where he’d been attacked.”

“The party at the museum. You told us that.” Robyn came out of the bathroom smelling like hand soap.

“But that’s only part of it. It’s Blind Tiger week at Millsaps.”

I shook my head, uncomprehending. “Blind Tiger?”

“As in, an underground bar?” Robyn frowned. “From the prohibition era?”

Spencer frowned at her. “How the hell do you know things like that?”

“History major. House arrest. Documentaries. We’ve been over this.” She gave us both a cryptic smile. “You do not want to play Trivial Pursuit with me.”

“I don’t want to play Trivial Pursuit with anyone,” Spencer said. “Anyway, Blind Tiger week is a series of underground parties, presumably serving alcohol to underage students. Each night is hosted by a different club, fraternity, or sorority trying to outdo all the others.” He turned to me and held my gaze. “Both Corey Morris and this new stray, Elliott Belcher, were infected during or after attending Blind Tiger parties.”

I closed my eyes, letting that sink in. A festival of unauthorized parties. Presumably hundreds of drunk, underage college students. And four new strays—two survivors—in the span of a week.

“Justus was infected a week before this Blind Tiger thing, right?” Robyn said.

“Yeah.” Spencer cracked open his bottle of water. “But—”

“But if Justus ran across all four of his victims at Blind Tiger parties, chances are good that he’ll be at the next party too,” I finished for him.

“It’s just a theory, but tonight’s the last night.” Spencer drained a third of his water in one gulp.

Robyn sank onto the couch, rubbing her wrist, where the cuff had chafed it. I wanted to kiss her wrist in apology, but I was pretty sure she’d punch me if I tried. “Please tell me you know where that party is, Spence,” she said.

“I don’t. But I know of two newly infected strays who might.”

“Corey Morris and Elliott Belcher.” I pulled my phone from my pocket.

“Let me do it,” Robyn said. “They’re more likely to talk to me than to you right now. Especially if Elliott Belcher has shifted and smells like you.”

“Fine.”

To my surprise, she selected Brandt from her contacts list, rather than one of the actual enforcers. “I think we have a connection,” she explained as she pressed SEND to make the call.