“Where’s the file?”

Tolliver hesitated, then said, “I can take you to it. Patrick showed it to me this morning, and we put it someplace safe. If you let me take you-”

“Not now. So this sorcerer-Patrick’s great-grandfather-”

“Maybe,” Tolliver said. “There’s nothing in the file about the creator being a Shanahan, but if that’s what you heard, okay, we’ll go with that. Whoever this sorcerer was, he created the portal as a holding place, as Patrick said, to escape supernaturals who wanted to steal or stop his experiment-an experiment unconnected to Jack the Ripper. He sacrificed two petty criminals to create the portal, then put the portal trigger into a piece of paper. At the same time, the police are investigating a string of homicides in Whitechapel. Letters are flowing in, claiming to be from the killer, all being carefully collected and stored in the police station. So he uses the paper to write a fake letter, figuring there’s no safer place in London than that police file…”

Tolliver continued explaining, but Jeremy’s gaze had swung out over the forest, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring as he tried to catch a breeze. He saw me watching but, instead of waving it off as nothing, he motioned Tolliver to silence.

“Antonio?” Jeremy murmured. “Take over. Elena, I need your nose. Clay?”

Near-panic crossed through Clay’s eyes, as he realized Jeremy wanted him to cover me, leaving Nick behind with Antonio.

“Keep him talking,” Jeremy said to Antonio, not noticing Clay’s hesitation. “We’ll be right back.”

Clay’s mouth opened, probably to suggest Nick go in his place. First, though, he looked at me. I shook my head, jerking my chin toward Antonio and Tolliver. If Clay stayed behind, he’d be the only one protecting Antonio, whose attention would be on questioning Tolliver. Better to have Nick doing that.

Clay followed us into the forest.

Deal-Breaker

CLAY WALKED BEHIND ME, AS MUCH TO KEEP HIS DISTANCE from Jeremy as anything. Any other time, Jeremy wouldn’t have needed to see Clay to know something was wrong-he’d just know, in that uncanny way of his. But right now, he was too preoccupied.

I crept up beside Jeremy and whispered, “Was it something you heard?”

He hesitated, as if not certain himself, then shook his head. “Not heard…”

“Give me a direction, and I’ll get upwind.”

He scanned the forest, but his eyes were unfocused. He hadn’t seen, heard or smelled anyone. He’d sensed them, the same way he often did when we were hurt or in danger.

“There,” he said, pointing east. “We’ll loop around to the south. I don’t want to get too far from the others.”

We’d gone only about twenty feet when I caught the smell, not becauseour target was upwind, but because we were so close.

I took a few slow steps. A shape moved through the trees only twenty feet away. As Jeremy touched my arm, I recognized the scent.

“Oh, I don’t believe it,” I muttered, shrugging off Jeremy’s hand and striding forward.

“Ele-!”

A grunt cut off Jeremy’s cry. I turned to see him knocked off his feet. Clay ran forward, but stumbled midway. As I dove for him, someone caught me by the shirt and yanked.

With a growl, I swung my elbow back to knock my attacker flying. Metal flashed, and I felt a prick-a small but sharp jab-not at my chest or throat, but in the side of my stomach.

I heard a whimper, and felt it bubbling up from my throat.

“Stay where you are, Mr. Danvers,” a voice behind me said.

The tone, from that voice, was so unexpected that my brain blanked out.

I forced my gaze from the knife, expecting to see Clay ready to leap to my rescue. But Clay was on the ground, crumpled face-first, not moving. Jeremy’s gaze shot down to Clay’s prone body. Fear darted behind his black eyes.

Was Clay breathing? Oh, God, I couldn’t tell.

Jeremy’s gaze swung to the knife at my side. His fists twitched at his side, body tensing as he rocked onto the balls of his feet-

“You know that isn’t a wise idea, Mr. Danvers,” Hull said behind me, the meekness gone from his voice. “You may be able to save her, but this knife will go into her belly the moment you move. I’m sure you understand what that means. No grandbaby to dandle on your knee. I mean grandbabies. I did overhear that correctly, didn’t I? Twins?” A bark of a laugh. “I must have done something right in my life-pleased some demon or deity-to give me so rich a boon. Two full-blooded werewolf babes.”

Clay let out a guttural moan.

“He’s dying, you know,” Hull said. “Zombie scratches-nasty things. Only way to help him now is to kill the zombies. I could help with that.” Another small laugh. “After all, they are my zombies.”

That’s what Shanahan had been saying just before he died-that the sorcerer had made it into the portal.

My hair prickled as I remembered Shanahan, convulsing on the floor, dying almost instantly. Oh, God, if Hull could do that-

Wait. According to Paige, the problem with casting a strong spell was that it drained your power. The stronger the spell, the greater the drain, which is why Hull had only used a simple knockback spell on Jeremy.

And if Hull could do that to Shanahan, why hadn’t he just used a spell against Clay to grab me earlier, like out on the balcony last night? Something was making him cautious. Maybe, after a hundred years in a dimensional portal, he was out of practice, or his spell power was still recharging.