“Not yet,” Jeremy murmured. “Tell him to stand by.”

“It’s spell-locked,” Jeremy called to Tolliver and Shanahan. “A backup plan to distract us when the power outage didn’t do the trick, I suspect. You have two choices. Either we relocate this meeting-quickly-or I will make that Cabal call for you, to Benicio Cortez, whom I suspect will handle this in a much less diplomatic way.”

Tolliver was silent.

“Quickly was the key word in that offer,” Jeremy said, voice still calm. “In sixty seconds, I’m going to declare this a potential ambush and instruct-”

“There’s a room down the hall. A meeting room. Smaller than this, but it has windows. It’ll be light enough to talk.”

Truth

WHILE I WASN’T DISCOUNTING TOLLIVER AS THE SOURCE of the power outage, my money was on Shanahan. His “horrified innocent” act didn’t work with me. I’d seen too many mutts pull the same routine. We’d show up at their doorstep and they’d stand there, stammering and wide-eyed at the very notion that they would be hunting people, denials pouring out on breath that reeked of human flesh.

Tolliver paused at the meeting room door as if expecting a wolf to lunge out from behind it. When Antonio closed the door behind them, Shanahan jumped, fingers flying up in a spell.

“If you finish that cast, this meeting is over,” Jeremy said.

As we moved to the center of the room, Clay whispered weakly, “Nicky?”

Nick started-surprised by Clay’s tone, the childhood nickname or both, so out of place here. Clay’s face was still as flushed as when he’d come running in from outside, and now neither heat nor exertion could be blamed.

“You’re-” I began.

Clay silenced me with a meaningful nod at Jeremy. Frowning, Nick moved up beside Clay.

“Watch Elena, ’kay?” Clay whispered, voice hoarse as if speaking cost more effort than he could afford.

“Are you-?”

“No, I’m not. So watch her. Please.”

Jeremy caught my eye, but Clay had turned away, as if still talking to Nick. Jeremy waved me up beside him. I glanced at Clay again, but his eyes warned me to stay quiet.

Jeremy began, “I’ll presume Dr. Tolliver has told you what’s happened this week, and your suspected role in it.”

“I-” Shanahan said.

“Then you know the charges are serious. These negotiations are equally serious. If you claim to have played no role in these events, and I discover otherwise, I will claim justice as our jurisdiction, to be decided by me-”

“But-”

“A member of my Pack is under direct threat, and neither the interracial council nor the Cabals will deny me justice if I demand it.”

Shanahan swallowed. His gaze shot toTolliver, who said nothing.

“If you admit to your role in this,” Jeremy continued, “and help us close this portal, you will be turned over to the Cortez Cabal or the interracial council-your choice, but you have my word that I will attend any proceedings, and ensure that your cooperation here is noted and considered.”

“And if I played no role in any of this?”

“Then you’d be well advised to tell us anything that will help exonerate you, and anything that will help us close this portal…and to pray that we don’t find out you’ve lied.”

Shanahan pulled himself straight and met Jeremy’s gaze. “I played only one role in all of this.” He enunciated each word as if such gravity would prove his sincerity. “And that is as the original owner of that letter. If I failed to properly safeguard it, then my only defense is that I had no reason-absolutely no reason-to believe it wasn’t what my grandfather claimed.”

“A fake?” Jeremy said.

“Not a fake. A dud. A failed experiment. A supernatural curiosity with an interesting story attached. That’s what my grandfather collected: stories.”

Jeremy’s gaze veered toward the windows, and his nostrils flared. The windows were closed, and he gave a slight head shake, as if the sniff had been instinctive. All I could see was the empty basketball courts.

“And the story behind this particular artifact?” Jeremy said. “You called it a dud.”

Shanahan nodded, emphatically, as if seeing a sign that his story was being believed. “It is supposed to be a portal. A holding cell.”

“For the man known as Jack the Ripper.”

“No, there’s no-”

“We’ll get to that,” Tolliver said. “Back to the letter and its intended purpose.”

They told us a story very similar to the one Anita Barrington knew, with the sorcerer creating a portal to hide from those wanting to take or stop his immortality experiment.

“Only either he wasn’t as good as he thought he was, or he rushed the last few steps while his enemies were closing in…”

“And the portal failed,” Jeremy said. “The sorcerer couldn’t get inside in time.”

“That wasn’t the problem. He-”

Shanahan went rigid, then stumbled back, hands going to his stomach. His mouth opened as if to scream, but no sound came out, just a wisp of something gray, like smoke, and he collapsed backward to the floor.

Tolliver shot forward. Nick pulled me back. Clay tried to lunge for Jeremy, but it was more of a lurch, his face shiny with exertion. Antonio spun on Tolliver, and the sorcerer flicked his fingers in a knockback spell, but Antonio grabbed his hands before he could finish.