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“This is the town,” Jasmine said.

“There’s a coffee shop.” It had already closed for the day. “Technically, a coffeetrailer. You didn’t mention that as a highlight on your things-to-do list.”

“It’s coffee. It’s a commodity, not a to-do.”

“Logs are a commodity too.”

“A logshowisn’t. You know that’s a good time. I bet they have that event where you balance on a log floating in a pool of water and try not to fall off. Have you put it in your calendar yet?”

“No, but only because I’m driving. My eagerness to enter the hot-saw competition can barely be restrained.” We’d already left the commercial buildings behind, and I watched the highway for the turn-off.

“I bet Duncan would like to go,” Jasmine said. “Europeans enjoy folksy American hobbies.”

“He’d probably wander off and magnet fish under some of those waterfalls you mentioned earlier.”

“That might be safer than wielding chainsaws.” Jasmine grunted as we bumped through a pothole.

I turned onto a dirt road, the map promising it would wind and squiggle its way up a slope on its way into the foothills. A mixture of massive ancient stumps and new-growth Douglas fir grew to either side. As we climbed, I rolled down the window and turned off the music, listening over the rumble of the engine in case howls floated to our ears.

“Not a rap fan?” Jasmine gripped the oh-shit handle as the potholes grew more numerous.

“I enjoy listening to nature.”

She rolled down her own window. “Do you think he’s out there howling?”

“Thatisthe specific nature I hope to hear.”

“Do you think he’s a prisoner at this place we’re going?”

“Those guys—Radomir and especially Lord Abrams—have a magical device that can call and control him.” I’d told her most of the story of our confrontation with them but couldn’t remember if I’d included that detail.

“That’s what drew him away the other night at Augustus’s house, right?”

“I’m positive of it.”

“He’s pretty powerful to be controllable by someone else. Someone who doesn’t like werewolves and is stealing our artifacts.”

“That’s why we have to get him away from them,” I said firmly.

The truck groaned and bumped its way farther from the highway, the road turning to switchbacks as the slope steepened, and I grew skeptical that we were going to anything but an old logging area. Did this road even have a name? I hadn’t spotted a sign when we’d turned.

“I thought it was because you were thirsty for his bod and wanted to smash,” Jasmine said.

“Something that’s easier to do with a guy who isn’t magically controlled by someone else.”

“Truth. Is that a building?”

I peered into the rain, skeptical of finding anything out here. I’d been looking for a place to turn around. But Jasmine was right. The slope had grown less steep, and the rectangular outline of a building stood out against the cloudy sky, the grounds around it cleared.

As we drove closer, a motion-sensing light came on alongside the road, the clouds heavy enough that it registered as nighttime. Before long, it would be.

The light was directed onto a sign: Selene Mushroom Farm.

I stopped the truck in front of it and scratched my jaw. “Tumwater Tonic Corporation has eclectic facilities.”

“Mushrooms can be potion ingredients, can’t they?” Jasmine asked.

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. The other facility was in the middle of a lavender field, and they were using that as an ingredient.” My nostrils itched at the memory of all the floral scents in that potion factory. “You’d think they could have grown mushrooms in a building on the same property though.”