In the downtown area, Albuquerque's Main Library offered convenient hours and access to public computers. Hunched over a keyboard, Victoria searched the Internet for information on the missing children.

Rand peered over her shoulder. The huge redhead occupied a wheeled office chair that squeaked and groaned beneath his weight.

"Will you stop breathing down the back of my neck?" She moused over the most promising result and clicked on the hyperlink. A painfully slow data load began.

"I'm not."

"You are."

He chuckled. "What's got you madder than a wet hen?"

"I'm not." Victoria shot a glare at him.

Rand's mouth stretched into a crocodile smile.

The news site finally loaded, so she returned her attention to the screen. She read the article and summarized for her companion. "This was published in the Friday morning edition. June Fraiser was murdered sometime Thursday night. It says her six-year-old son, Michael, is believed to have been abducted by the same person who killed his mother."

"Does it say anything we don't already know?"

Only the tightness choking Rand's characteristically lazy drawl hinted at inner turmoil. She recognized his restrained anger. His reaction closely mirrored her own emotions.

Squinting, she continued reading with furious intent. The tension between her and Rand built to an intense pitch rather like the droning buzz of a mosquito. He remained silent and waited for her to finish without making further interruptions.

Huffing, she sat back in her chair. Dread filled her gut, her worst suspicions confirmed. "More than one child has been abducted."

A growl rumbled in the Beta wolf's throat. "How many?"

"Four over the course of two weeks. Michael was the most recent." She committed the abducted children's names to memory and printed the article.

"Have they found any..." Rand's voice crunched like crushed glass.

"Not yet. We may be able to save them." Victoria offered a silent prayer to Freya. She opened a new tab in the web browser and performed another search of an online directory. The results yielded a home address for the murdered woman. She sent a second job to the printer.

"I’ll grab those." Rand rose from his chair.

"Thanks." Victoria hastily closed out the web client and logged out.

They joined up again in the main lobby and left the library just after 3:00 p.m. A glance passed between them, and silent communication flowed across the pack bond. His question. Her affirmation.

Furry brows arched, Rand nodded.

Concordance resonated between them like a single perfect note. By mutual consent, they climbed into the pickup and headed to the crime scene.

The second-story walkway overlooked the complex's courtyard which was made of red pavers. Thorny bushes and weeds crowded lava rock-filled planters. The buildings showed signs of considerable disrepair–peeling paint and drooping siding. Potholes pockmarked the parking lot, and graffiti covered the surrounding walls. The tenement was located less than a mile from where she had encountered the murdered woman's spirit.

"Two-twenty-two. This is it." Rand stopped, eyeing the trio of tarnished brass twos that hung off-center above the mail slot.

"Yeah, this is it." She knocked on the red door.

"Forty-eight hours is a long time for a little boy to be alone with a killer." Following a short delay, he tried knocking also.

"Yes, it is." Victoria shuddered.

Rand had just voiced her darkest fears. Her blood ran cold at the thought of a terrified child in the hands of a monster. Freya's vision haunted her, especially the frightened cries of youngsters.

"Looks like no one’s home." He reached out and twisted the door knob which didn't open. "It's locked. Should we force the door?"

Victoria chewed her lower lip while she considered. She had been raised in the suburbs as part of a middle-class family. Her worst criminal offense to date was speeding. She had no idea how to pick a lock and had certainly never trespassed on a murder scene before. Of course, she and Rand were both strong enough to bust the door down, but she was uncomfortable doing so.

She bent and lifted the welcome mat. "Maybe there's a hidden key."

Rand snorted. "We should be so lucky."

"I've got nothing." She lowered the mat into position. She balanced on the tips of her toes and tried to reach the top of the doorframe, but it proved just out of her reach.

He snickered. "Don't strain yourself, little buddy."

"Watch it, Rand." She bared her teeth in a warning snarl. She had never lived down the fact that she had reached her full height of less than five feet at the age of twelve.

"Damn, Victory, no need to be so fucking sensitive about your height. No one minds you being an itty-bitty–"

Victoria jammed her elbow into his side. "Shut up."

"Ouch. Fuck!" Holding a protective arm over his ribcage, Rand flashed a shit-eating grin. He ran his free hand along the top of the doorframe.

"One more smart remark about my height, and I'll ram that peg leg up your ass."

"Hey, now. No need for violence." His face lit with the delight of discovery. "Ah-ha!"

Her brow shot up. "Really?"

Rand held up a brass key. "Oh yes. Really."

"Dumb luck." She smothered a grin. She enjoyed Rand's company. Although he had forty-six years to her twenty-four, she felt closer to him than Morena and Jasper. Life, and particularly recent experiences, had aged her beyond her years.

He inserted the key into the lock before he hesitated. "Not sure it's right to enter a police crime scene. I hope we don't mess nothin' up."

"Don't worry. It’s not an active forensic investigation scene or there would be an officer posted. After the police are done, they leave it to the property owners to clean up."

Rand shot her a perplexed glance. "How do you know that?"

Her voice flatlined. "I dated a cop for a year."

He winced. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay." She shrugged. If Rand knew she was lying, he kept his mouth shut for a change. She was grateful for his rare discretion.

Daniel had worked as a Sheriff of Maricopa County, Arizona. He'd been gone just over two weeks, and his death still didn't feel real to her. Every morning she woke and opened her eyes, expecting to be in her own bed, to roll over and see his dark head resting on the pillow beside her. Her heart ached as though it had been cut from her breast. The deaths of her parents and so many others compounded her pain until she had emotionally shut down. The pack needed her to remain strong, so she chose numbness over grief and focused on survival.

Rand shoved the door open and entered the apartment first. He cocked his head, nostrils flaring and nose twitching. "Yeah, someone sure as hell died in here."

Following on his heels, she gagged when the revolting scent of decay assailed her sensitive nose. A wave of nausea swept over her. "Hit the lights."

"Yeah, gimme a sec." His hand slapped the wall a couple times before he found the light switch beside the door, and a dim table lamp came on. The illumination sent dozens of cockroaches skittering along the floor and walls.

Victoria's expression twisted into a grimace. She followed Rand inside and closed the door behind them. The small apartment had a galley-style kitchen, one bedroom off the living area, and one bathroom. The dried out husk of a Christmas tree stood sandwiched between an old television and a bloodstained couch. There was no mantle, so two felt stockings dangled from the kitchen counter. One still had a dollar-store tag attached.

"June must have died here." She bent to touch a couch cushion. She skimmed the gummy surface and her fingers came away dry. She spotted a curious bloodstain on the carpet and knelt to inspect it. The basic shape suggested a cloven hoof. A trail of similar marks led toward the bedroom.

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

"Are these footprints?" She pointed to the stains.

Rand's brow pinched. "Sure as hell looks like it."

Victoria's lips compressed, and she lowered her face to floor level. She inhaled deeply, and a pungent scent filled her nostrils. "I smell goat. I think."

Rand pressed his face to the ground and closed his eyes, huffing deep breaths while he learned the smell. He looked up and frowned. "I'd say bighorn sheep."

She snickered. "You like sheep, don't you, Rand?"

"Hey!" Rand's head reared back, and he took a lazy-pawed swipe at her which she easily dodged. Laughter rolled from the big redhead.

She stood and followed the trail toward the bedroom. "What sort of goat-scented monster murders mothers and steals children?"

"Beats the hell out of me," Rand said, scratching his beard. "Satyr, maybe?"

"This isn't Greece." She leaned into the apartment's single bathroom. She switched on the light and gave the room a cursory inspection: one sink, a toilet, and a bathtub-shower combo.

"How should I know?" Rand rolled his massive shoulders. "I've fought vampires and the occasional demon. Saw a kachina spirit once outside of Flagstaff, but it wasn't harming anyone, so we let it be."

"Smart man." As she returned to the hallway, she caught him giving her a peculiar look. The corner of his mouth curled upward, so his eye pulled into a squint. She stopped. "What is it?"

"Running into Jake Barrett has got you in a snit," he said with uncanny astuteness.

She winced and bristled, feeling unaccountably defensive. "The man and his hunters murdered my parents and most of our pack. Of course I'm unsettled. I shouldn't have to remind you."

Following Daniel's death, Victoria had taken his corpse to the Barrett residence. Sawyer greeted her with guarded curiosity until he saw the condition of his brother's body. Without waiting for an explanation, he grabbed a shotgun and attacked her. She barely escaped with her life. The incident had set the hunters and wolves, allies of thirty years, on the brink of war.

The next day, Victoria's parents and most of the adults of her pack had met with Jake Barrett at a private airstrip outside Phoenix. Her father had ignored her objections and forbidden her to attend. He ordered her to escort the pack's young, infirm, and vulnerable members to safety. Rand accompanied Victoria as her second-in-command.

None of her pack mates who attended that fateful meeting ever returned. All were dead, including her mother and father. No one except maybe Jake Barrett knew exactly what happened. The news stations carried a story about the explosion of a fuel truck at the airstrip. Allegedly, the resulting fire killed dozens, including human hunters. Following her Alpha's orders, Victoria took the people under her protection and ran.

"Uh-huh." The look Rand gave her said he didn't buy her excuses even for a second.

No matter what, her guilt and grief weren't topics for casual conversation. Jaw jutting, Victoria shook her head. "Don't want to talk about it."

"All right." Rand turned toward the final doorway to the one room they hadn't inspected yet. "This must be the bedroom."

Victoria entered ahead of him and turned on the lights. The small room contained a double bed and a five-drawer dresser. A toddler bed and a toy chest stood against one of the walls. Lego blocks and Matchbox cars littered the floor. The space hardly seemed big enough for one person to occupy, let alone two.

"I thought you said the boy is six," Rand said, scowling at the toddler bed.

"That's what the spirit and the newspaper said. I guess it's what she could afford." Victoria pitied the dead woman and missing child more than ever. The boy had lost everything. She hoped they could save him.

"Where the hell is the boy's father in all this?"

"The article said she was a single mother. No mention of a father."

Rand walked past the beds and examined the room's only window which had been broken inward. The vinyl mini blinds lay in a mangled heap on the floor. Glass fragments littered the carpet. "This is where it entered. I only smell the one creature."

She bent and picked up a small red fire truck off the spotted carpeting. She inspected the toy and then tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans. The threadbare comforter on the bed contained a lumpy polyester fill. She committed the boy's scent to memory and then wadded the blanket into a ball.

"Catch," she said, tossing it toward Rand.

"So there's no one left to miss the poor kid?" Rand caught the blanket out of the air and held the blue fabric to his nose. After a few seconds, he returned the blanket to the bed.

"No, probably not." She shook her head in sorrow. If they failed to save the boy, she would feel responsible for his death, the same way she already felt for so many others.

Rand stilled, and his gaze settled on her. "Cut yourself some slack, kid," he said in a gruff tone. "Everything isn't your fault."

Her stomach dropped. She stared at him.

"Isn't it, though? Daniel is dead because of me." She had known dating a hunter was reckless and off-limits, but that hadn't stopped her. "Dad knew Jake Barrett would blame me for his son's death. It's why he kept me from attending the meeting with the hunters."

"Ah, so you get to claim credit for the massacre at the airfield 'n starting the fighting too, I suppose?" Rand's brow arched. "Something of a royal screw up, aren't you?"

Tears stung her eyes, and a hot flush of temper set her teeth on edge. "Mocking it doesn't make it any less true."

"Course not," he drawled. "But it might help you see the only person blaming you for what happened is you. The pack doesn't hold you culpable for any of it."

Her anger dissipated and left her flushed with embarrassment. His reassurance served to undermine her self-confidence. She was a failure as Alpha. She lacked the necessary experience and wisdom to serve as a good pack leader. The role had been thrust upon her years before she should have been ready.

"Rand." Uncertainty threaded her voice, vibrating with the strength of her curiosity. She had a question she wanted—no, needed—to ask but did not know how to phrase it.

"Just spit it out."

She sighed. Fine.

"Why haven't you challenged me for Alpha yet? We both know, in a fight, you'd win. You're older, more experienced, better suited to leadership."

Rand laid a hand on her shoulder. Victoria tilted her head to gaze into his face. She fully expected her question to finally provoke the ritual challenge.

He scowled. "I was loyal to your father and mother. My Alphas. So I'm loyal to you, Victoria Storm. If your father had wanted me to be leader, he'd have put me in charge."

"Alpha isn't a hereditary title, Rand. It has to be earned."

"Let me guess. You don't feel you've earned it?"

She shook her head.

His nostrils flared as he exhaled. "There has been a Storm leading this pack for five hundred years. You're a good leader, just a little bit inexperienced. You need to stop being so hard on yourself."

Victoria opened her mouth, although she had no idea what she intended to say. Before she formulated words, her cell phone rang. She sighed, extracted the mobile from her pocket, and checked the number.

Sylvie.

"Victoria," Sylvie said in a voice filled with panic. "It's Jasper. He's gone."

An awful sense of foreboding filled her, but she strove to remain cool. "Jasper was upset when we told him he couldn't come with us. He's probably just sneaking around after me and Rand."

Beside her, Rand snorted. "That boy needs his backside tanned."

Victoria waved a silencing hand at him. "Don't worry, okay? We’re through here. We'll come back and track him down."

"Okay." Sylvie's tone calmed. "Please hurry."

"We will." Victoria put the phone away and looked to the redhead.

Rand rolled his eyes. "Well, fuck. I guess we'd better get after that little shit."

"Rand, don't be too hard on him, okay? He's just a kid."

"It's time for him to grow up and start being a man." He accompanied her outside and closed the door of the apartment behind them. "Do you have a plan for finding Michael?"

"Not yet." A sense of urgency coalesced in her gut. The need to act grew imperative, but she had no idea what to do. "C'mon, let's go."

Together, they returned to the parking lot where they'd left the truck. Rand approached the driver's side of the pickup and unlocked the door.

"Smells like a storm," he said.

As if to echo his words, thunder rumbled miles in the distance. The clouds formed a thick gray blanket. Orange hues tinted the horizon, and a brisk breeze blew easterly.

Victoria tilted her head back, scenting the moist air. "It blew up suddenly. I didn't know it was supposed to rain."

"It wasn't. Not according to the weather report I read this morning anyway."

She traded an ominous glance with Rand, and their shared concern remained unspoken. Picking up a scent trail that was already a couple days old was difficult in an urban area. Rain would destroy any chance they might have had of doing it the old fashioned way.

They drove for a couple minutes. A light drizzle started, just enough to turn the dust on the windshield to mud. Rand turned on the wipers. The rain wasn't heavy, but it was enough to obliterate any trace of a scent trail Jasper might've left. His disappearance ate at her. She hated her inability to act, and each passing minute stretched like an hour. The teenager hadn't been gone for long, so she doubted he'd gotten far. Most likely, he'd return to the pack once he'd blown off steam.

The consolation offered cold comfort.