“Don’t thank me yet. I don’t see anything here.”

“Check around the house?” Gunnar suggested, and Liam nodded. He swung the flashlight back and forth across the road; then we moved into the front yard.

“I’ll check the side yard,” I said to them.

“Be careful,” Liam said. “Yell if you need us.”

I promised I would.

There was a stone patio on the side of the house beneath a pergola still covered in leafy vines. Once upon a time, the patio would have been decked with flowers, surrounded by blossoming shrubs. And on a warm night like this, probably fancy people in fancy clothes holding even fancier drinks. But that was all gone now.

I walked around to the side lawn, then the back. It was big for New Orleans, with plenty of space on the sides between the neighbors’ houses. Patches of grass were black where magic had struck like lightning, but a few live oaks had survived the war. They were gorgeously creepy, Spanish moss hanging down from long, gnarled branches.

Fog swirled in a sudden shift in the wind, rising in a column that spun like a dervish until it sank to the ground. And in that moment, before the fog lifted again, I saw a dark figure move across the lawn between the arching branches of the oaks.

My heart began to pound. I hadn’t actually expected to see anything out here. Not after my run-in with the wraiths, and the fact that Zach had chased them off tonight. And maybe it was nothing. My very overactive imagination. Or someone from the family who wanted fresh air.

But what if it wasn’t? I ran through the possible options. One, a wraith, waiting for another chance to attack. Two, a nosy neighbor. Three, someone else doing their own investigation about the wraiths who’d attacked Emme.

I thought about yelling for Liam, but that might have scared the person off. And I didn’t want to do that. If someone was spying on the Landreaus, or if the wraiths had come back for another bite, we’d need to know.

My boots, thankfully, were silent and soft, and didn’t make a sound as I snuck around and into the grass. I darted to the closest tree, waited for a moment in case I’d made too much noise, ears straining for sound.

I knew I wasn’t as scared as I should have been. It wasn’t that I thought I was invincible; I wasn’t naive. But I was being careful, and I figured the odds were better that whatever was out here would run away as soon as it saw me.

As slowly and quietly as I could manage, I looked around the trunk of the tree I’d been sheltering against. There, at the other end of the alley of oak trees, maybe forty feet away, stood a man. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with light hair. The darkness had dulled colors to black and white and gray, so I couldn’t tell much else.

Then the wind shifted again, moving fog and shadows, and revealing the arch of wings at his back.

I froze, and my bravado wavered. There was a chance it was an innocuous Para—a cloud nymph, maybe, what we’d have called a Nephele.

But most things with wings were things to be avoided. Angels with their golden bows, Valkyries with their deadly spears. Both were ferocious fighters.

Memories rushed me, made my hands shake with adrenaline and fear. But like I’d done so many times before, I put them away. There wasn’t time to be weak, to be afraid. Especially not if one of them had managed to avoid Devil’s Isle and was hunting again.

I shook my head. After last night, I didn’t have the right to assume all Paras were enemies anymore, no matter how terrifying. I had to be more open-minded. And I had to be very, very careful.

I moved around the tree, took one step forward, then another, until I stood in the middle of the trees, nearly in line with him.

If he’d had a bow and arrow, I’d be a straight and easy shot.