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She covered the tattoo—and the lingering heat—with her own hand. “Another tattoo?”

“I think it would be a good idea,” Darien said. “Yours only tells us when your blood sugar is low. I think we should get you something that’ll tell us when you need to get to Silverway.” His eyes flicked over her head—looking at Kylar. “Which parlors do you recommend?”

“Roman’s,” Kylar replied. “The owner’s a goddamn genius, but…it’s in a Gray Zone. And Donovan likes to go there.”

“So we’ll need to watch our backs,” Darien said.

“Ho yeah.”

“Who’s Donovan?” Loren asked.

Silence pulsed through the kitchen. Not even the kids nattered at each other anymore.

Darien said, “Roman’s dad. And someone you don’t need to worry about as long as we’re around.” Loren didn’t miss when Darien’s eyes flicked to Paxton, who stared down at his puppy with a long face.

Loren didn’t like the sounds of this Donovan Slade, but she trusted Darien when he said she wouldn’t need to worry about him.

53

Foxhill Rentals

FOXHILL, STATE OF WITHEREDGE

The rental shop was supposed to open at nine.

“It’s almost ten o’clock!” Max fumed. He pushed away from the same door he’d rattled yesterday and joined the others in the empty parking lot.

Today was a holiday, which none of them had clued into until they’d arrived and seen that the place was closed. They’d figured it out after Dallas, the lone person in their group who operated on a normal schedule, had the sense to check her calendar. Foxhill Rentals had failed to update their hours for the holiday, but if they opened any later than ten, or didn’t open at all, Max might have to resort to ripping out his hair.

Another five minutes passed before a single vehicle puttered into the sunlit parking lot. The white hatchback drove to the side of the building and parked in one of the stalls marked with a sign that read EMPLOYEE PARKING ONLY.

The guy sat in his car for a while after he’d cut the engine. The vehicle didn’t have the best spells; Max could see inside even without the Sight. The man—warlock—kept glancing this way.

Dallas cleared her throat. “Maybe you ruffians shouldn’t stare,” she whispered.

Fuck, they were all staring, but mostly Max, Malakai, and Dominic—the ruffians.

This wasn’t going well.

A few minutes later, the warlock got out of his car, coffee cup and lunchbox in hand, and approached with a tentative smile. It was already hot as sin, the palm trees casting long shadows across the pavement. “You folks looking to rent a car?”

“We have a few questions for you, actually,” Max said.

“I can…do my best to help.” He tucked the lunchbox under his arm and retrieved a set of keys from his pocket. “What’s this concerning?”

“My sister,” Max said. Honesty was the best option here, especially with the warlock’s aura telling him he was close to pissing himself. “She’s missing, and I just want to find her—that’s it.”

He took a second to process Max’s words. And then he unlocked the doors and opened one. “Come on in. We don’t technically open for another hour, but I’ll do my best to help.”

Max faced the others. “Dal and I will go in. You guys wait here.”

The guy walked in and held the door for them. “I’m Paul,” he said as Max and Dallas walked in. He shut the door and locked it. “Foxhill Rentals is the wife’s and my baby. Family owned and operated for the past thirty years.”

Max pointed at himself. “Max.” He gestured to Dallas. “Dallas.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” He gestured across the room. “If you’d follow me to my office—it’s right this way.”

Paul led the way to a door at the back. There was nothing inside but a simple desk with three chairs, an old computer, one filing cabinet, and a painting of an old hotrod. He sat down behind the desk. “Anna Cousens, right?” He placed his coffee cup and lunchbox by the monitor.