Benicio hadn’t admitted to kidnapping vampires, of course. He simply said that if such a thing ever happened, it would be off North American soil, that the subjects would be well treated and released without permanent damage.

A few days ago, I’d learned that the liberation movement planned to free Jasper Haig from Cortez custody. It was Jasper—Jaz as he was known—who’d killed Benicio’s two eldest sons. He was being allowed to live while they studied his unique chameleon-like power. When we confronted Jaz about this plot to free him, he’d hinted it was the Cabal scientists who’d approached him with an offer. Now the movement claimed to have developed a mortality vaccine using vampire DNA. Could it be the same DNA used in those cryogenics experiments? An offshoot of those experiments? Probably. So what else were they working on?

TWENTY

Our prison-mate didn’t talk much after that. He’d made contact. That seemed to be his only goal. Establish himself as a potential source of aid because we had connections. If it was me, I’d have done the same.

Hours passed. Adam and I talked a little, but I wanted him to rest. We had no idea what was happening, and dwelling on it would just lead to panic. Wait and see. It was all we could do.

A guard came by eventually with more water and energy bars. He gestured for us to stand in the back corner, unlocked a tiny grate, and pushed the supplies through.

The whole time the guard was there, Adam talked. No threats. Not even questions. Just trying to talk to the guy. Making an impression. Getting him to see us as people, not anonymous prisoners. The guy didn’t respond.

“Nice try,” said our neighbor when the guard was gone. “But you can save your breath, boy. Deaf and dumb. They all are. Not too bright either, I suspect.”

I walked over to the grate. I hadn’t noticed it earlier—it looked just like part of the bars. I bent and jiggled it. Then I cast an unlock spell.

“If that keeps you occupied, have at it,” the man said. “If you look closer, though, you’ll see that you wouldn’t get more than your head out.”

He was right.

“Relax and wait,” he said. “If you’re right, someone’s looking for you. If not, use the boy’s injuries. Make them worse and he’ll get medical attention. That would be a chance to escape.”

Adam dozed again. I was sitting, arms around my knees, staring into nothing, when he sat up beside me, hand snaking around my waist.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered.

I nodded.

He shifted closer. “Worrying about your mom?”

“Trying not to. At worst, she dies and goes back where she was. It’s only a matter of time before the Fates figure out how to recall her anyway.”

“That’ll be hard,” he said. “Losing her again.”

“At least I got to spend some time with her,” I said. “Not exactly quality time. But she belongs over there. That’s her life now.” I gave him a rueful smile. “Do I sound all calm and mature?”

“You do.” He kissed me. “Even if it’s not how you really feel.”

“I will. Eventually.”

I leaned against him and closed my eyes.

“The rest will be okay, too,” he said. “They’ll come for us. Elena and Clay would have followed us to the airport. They’d take the Cortez jet. They’d have arrived at the same time and figured out where Josef took us. From there, it’s just a matter of following their noses.”

Still … so many connections to be missed.

“What if Elena and Clay are down here, too?” I said.

“Somewhere.”

“All the better, because that kitsune mojo of Jeremy’s will find them faster than any werewolf nose.”

A throat-clearing from our neighbor. “Excuse me? I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but it’s difficult for me not to. Did you say werewolf?”

I glanced at Adam.

“We aren’t werewolves,” Adam said. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

That chuckle again. “I know you aren’t. Clay would be Clayton, yes? Danvers. And … the other one.”

“Jeremy.”

“Yes. You know them?”

“We do.”

“Then my name might not be meaningless to you after all. My family name, at least. So I’ll introduce myself, in hopes that you will let Clayton know I’m here. Perhaps, as Alpha, he can negotiate my release.”

“Clay’s not Alpha. Jeremy is.”

A pause, then, “Still? I thought he would have stepped down by now.”

“He will be. Soon. But Clay won’t be Alpha. Elena will.” His silence told me he had no idea who that was. How long had this guy been locked up?

“Elena is Clay’s wife,” I said. “Mate. Whatever. She’s a were-wolf, and the Alpha-elect.”

“I … see. I suppose Jeremy thinks that’s clever, leaving Clayton as de facto Alpha while not antagonizing those who wouldn’t want him leading the Pack.”

I opened my mouth to say that wasn’t the case, but Adam shook his head. If this guy knew so much about the Pack—and had superhearing—that meant he was a werewolf. An old-school mutt. Meaning it was best to keep issues of equality out of the conversation.

“And your name?” I said.

“Miguel Santos,” he said.

“I thought—” I began.

Then I stopped myself, as I struggled to recall the names of the Santos family who’d been Pack members. I had a decent knowledge of Pack history. After so many summers at Jeremy’s estate—Stonehaven—I’d been permitted to read the Legacy.

Jeremy had been challenged for the Alpha position by his father, Malcolm, a brutal son of a bitch who’d been backed primarily by the Santos family. There were two Santos brothers, one of whom had three sons. Two of those sons and their uncle had been killed in the fight for Ascension. The father and youngest son left. That son—Daniel—had led an uprising against the Pack years later. Daniel had been killed, meaning the only living Santos from those days would be his father. The age seemed about right, but his name was Raymond, and I was sure I’d heard that Raymond—like Malcolm—had died years before Daniel.