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“If so, he doesn’t sound like he’s trapped in a dungeon,” she added.

“If he wasn’t trapped, he would have come home.” Since Sylvan Serenity was homefor me, not Duncan, I clarified. “Back to the apartment complex.”

“Because he pines for you and also has smashing on his mind?”

“Yeah, but especially because his van is in the parking lot there. He would be bereft without all his fancy magnets and treasure-hunting equipment.”

“I’d say he’s kind of weird for a werewolf, but my dad would be bereft without his collection of Battlestar Galactica model ships.”

“Quirky males are best. They’re not as full of themselves as…” I held up a finger as the howl repeated. Or was that a different howl? Could there be a pair of wolves or even a pack out here? Lorenzo hadn’t mentioned my half-sibling detecting anyone but Duncan in the area. “I don’t think either of those howls came from him.”

“Maybe they’re werewolves who know where Duncan is.”

The first howler answered the second.

“Is it my imagination, or do they sound peeved about something?” I asked.

Jasmine nodded. “To me, those sound like warning howls. They could be telling an intruder to beat it. Or telling their pack that there’s an intruder around. We could turn wolf and go chat with them.”

The next howl came across as more agitated than the earlier ones. Yes, those wolves were upset about something.

“They don’t sound like they’re in the mood tochat,” I said.

“We could invite them to the coffee trailer.”

“I have a hunch.” I opened the potion bag and drew out the vial containing the wolf-gray liquid.

Jasmine shined her phone’s flashlight on it. “What’s in that?”

“Don’t ask. If we’re within a ten-mile radius of Duncan, this will help me find him.”

“You said those howls aren’t his, though, right? What makes you think he’s out there?”

“He agitates almost every paranormal being who meets him. Because they can sense his power and that he’s different from werewolves—at leastmodernwerewolves.”

“He’s quirky. As established.”

“Among other things.” I removed the cork from the vial.

Hoping my hunch was right, I, per Rue’s instructions, chuggedthe liquid inside. It tasted like rotten seaweed mixed with bat guano and had the viscosity of slug slime. My stomach and throat battled my tongue and lips as I struggled to keep it down. Tears came to my eyes as I fought down my gag reflex multiple times. Duncan had no idea how much I’d come to care about him, how much I would endure to help him.

“Are you okay?” Jasmine was watching my face—and the contortions it had to be making.

I shook my head and, with a final gulp, won the war against my upchuck reflex. Even so, tears blurred my vision by the time I could voice an answer.

“That was loathsome,” I croaked.

“I guessed. You looked like you were trying to put out a fire on your tongue with your spit. We should have stopped at the coffee trailer for mochas to wash it down.”

“By the full moon,yes.”

If only the coffee shop had been open.

I wiped my eyes, drew a shuddering breath, and grabbed some of Jasmine’s Doritos to get rid of the taste.

“Let’s see if this works.” I looked around the forest with determination.

In the distance, an agitated wolf howled again.