Page 30

“No one really knows, but she’s been around for at least two thousand years.”

Caleb’s mind reeled, and shock surged through him. Two thousand years old? No wonder she came across as hard. What would it be like to live that long? He was thirty-seven, and sometimes that seemed like way too many years.

“But that’s not what you should be worrying about.”

Caleb had been lost in thought. Now, he glanced back at his father. Ethan’s face was set in grim lines.

“What should I be worrying about?” Caleb asked.

“I told you I wasn’t working alone in this. The”—he paused as if unsure of his wording—“person I’m working with told me where to go and how to capture the witch. He gave me the charm.”

“So?”

“He also told me if I touched her any more than I absolutely had to, then he would rip out my heart and feed it to my wolves.”

Caleb thought about that. He could sympathize with the idea. If anyone else touched Regan now, he would likely want to rip them into tiny, bloody, little pieces. Hell, want didn’t come into it—hewouldrip them to pieces.

“Who is he?” he asked and knew he hadn’t kept the rage from his voice when his father raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think it would be wise to tell you that.”

“Since when has wisdom dictated your decisions?”

“Whatever you may think, Caleb, I have never wanted harm to come to you.”

Bitterness washed over him, and the scars on his back flared to life. He wanted out of there. He would relate the information back to Regan. Perhaps she could work out what was going on. He’d done what he could.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

Ethan looked about to argue, then he shrugged. “Perhaps you could return something to your witch.”

He followed his father down the stairs into the basement. He knew what was down here. A cage made of silver bars, used to keep out-of-control werewolves from causing too much damage. Caleb had spent much of his early teens in there. Though he’d never been out of control.

Now, two huge hounds occupied the cage. They growled softly as Ethan approached.

“Diablo and Satan,” Caleb murmured.

The hounds heard their names. Their ears pricked, and the growls were cut off. They rose to their full height, which was almost to Caleb’s shoulders and eyed him with burning crimson eyes.

“Nice pets your girlfriend keeps,” Ethan muttered.

“What are they?”

“Hellhounds. Magnificent animals. I couldn’t bring myself to kill them.”

The name certainly suited. They were huge creatures, bearing only a vague resemblance to dogs, with rough russet coats, and a thick black stripe down their backs. Powerful legs ended in long savage claws. Their heads were misshapen, with pointed ears and razor-sharp teeth. As he approached the bars, they sat calmly, only growling when Ethan came up beside him.

“What do you expect me to do with them?” Caleb asked.

“Give them back. There are chains over there. I’ll get out—they don’t like me very much.”

“Well, you can’t fault them on their taste in people,” Caleb said as Ethan left the room.

Caleb spoke to the hounds softly, but they gave him no trouble as he attached the chains around their necks. His father was waiting for him at the top of the stairs.

Ethan walked with him to the truck, keeping his distance from the hounds. Caleb opened the back and they jumped in. He was climbing into the cab when Ethan stopped him with a hand on his arm. Caleb glanced down at it then pulled free. “What?” he asked coldly.

“I know you’ve never wanted anything to do with the pack, and in some ways I understand that, but there’s something you can’t afford to ignore.”