"There's more than one missing child." Arm extended, Paul proffered the flyer.

Victoria stared at the weathered paper and then reluctantly accepted it. She quickly scanned it. She recognized the girl's name from the newspaper article. Margaret Anne Wazzle, age 10. The missing child notice included the black and white photocopy of an adolescent girl and cited a few grim facts. The bodies of the parents were found in their bedroom. The murderer was suspected of having abducted the girl from her home.

As she read, an awful sinking sensation swept through her. She had no idea how to go about finding the abducted children or the child thief. The crisis associated with Jasper's disappearance had temporarily diverted her attention. Now the emergencies were closing in from all sides.

Composing her thoughts, she offered up a prayer. Goddess, if I'm to find these children, I need more to go on.

A hesitation ensued before Freya responded. I would tell you exactly where to find them if I knew. However, there is a shroud preventing me from knowing their location.

"Before you showed me the glimpse of a vision, but it was too brief," Victoria said, desperation edging her voice. "Can you show me again? Please? Maybe there's something I missed."

At her outburst, Rand and Paul exchanged a knowing glance. Neither man commented. Her pack mates were accustomed to her seemingly one-sided conversations with the goddess.

Freya hesitated. I held back. Some of it is horrific. I have shielded you on purpose.

Freya's obvious reluctance aroused Victoria's suspicions. Her already pessimistic expectations plummeted further, leaving her cold inside. Bracing for the worst, she asked, Goddess, is Margaret still alive?

Sorrow colored Freya's golden voice. I'm sorry, Victoria. The girl is already lost.

Victoria ground her teeth so hard her jaws hurt. Show me.

It is sordid.

Goddess, please. I have to know what sort of monster I'm up against.

It is what you want?

"It's what I want." Unsure what to expect, Victoria braced by stiffening her legs. Seconds later, a vision slammed her. Her five senses overloaded under the deluge of information. Overwhelmed, she dropped to her knees and pitched forward, reflexively extending her arms. Her palms smacked the rough pavement, and she gulped air. A cold drizzle pelted her head and back, and her soaked clothing hung heavily on her slender frame. She lost awareness of her own body.

The pillow beneath Margaret's cheek was wet from the tears she'd shed. Her heart ached for the shattered furry body they'd found in the gutter in front of the house. Her beloved cat, Carmen, hit by a driver who hadn't bothered to stop. She suffered the agony of grief. But the awful, suffocating guilt was even worse.

Her mother's voice played over and over in her mind. "It's your fault the damn cat's dead, Margaret. If I told you once, I told you a million times not to let that animal run past you. It serves you right she's dead! Maybe you'll finally learn."

Her mother was right, she was an awful person. She hated herself for being so irresponsible. If she'd been paying attention, then Carmen wouldn't have run past her into the street. The car wouldn't have hit Carmen and she'd still be alive. She hated herself.

It was all her fault.

Everything.

Torn apart by the force of her sobs, she cried herself into exhaustion and eventually fell asleep.

She woke to her mother's shriek and her father's deep shout. Their cries shattered the hush of the slumbering house. A terrible growl resounded, and then the screams ended abruptly. Adrenaline coursed through her body. Her throbbing heart pushed against her throat with every beat, threatening to choke her. Terrified, she pulled the thick down comforter over her head and shrank beneath the covers. Shivering, she curled into a fetal ball and closed her eyes, wishing herself invisible.

Heavy footsteps clomped in the hallway outside her bedroom. She shook so her teeth clattered, and she clenched her jaws to stop the betraying sound. A floorboard creaked in the hallway outside her bedroom door, and the intruder stopped moving.

She bit her lower lip so hard that salty blood flooded her mouth. Tears stinging her eyes, she held her breath and clutched the blanket in both hands. Please, please, please... Go away, go away, go away...

With the crack of shattering wood, the door to her room burst inward. Huffing, the monster thudded toward her bed. She screamed as the blankets were ripped away, her only protection stolen, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. Lying on her back, she stared up wide-eyed at the enormous beast standing over her. Darkness obfuscated its appearance except for a pair of malevolent glowing red eyes.

The monster seized her legs and dragged her from her bed. She kicked and screamed to no avail. A heavy, leathery hand clubbed her upside the head. Pain exploded throughout her skull, the world spun, and she sagged in its bruising grip.

The beast grabbed her, shoved the mouth of a large burlap sack over her head, and stuffed her into the bag. Her weight settled at an uncomfortable angle so she lay on her bent neck. She hurt from head to toe. The thick, scratchy material itched, and the hot interior stank of urine, vomit, and terror.

She struggled weakly for a while, but physical exertion made it harder to breathe. After a time, she gave up and grew still. She lay in a limp heap listening to the ominous stomping of the monster's steps as it carried her down the stairs and from the house. Tears streamed from her eyes. Snot clogged her nose and throat. The humiliating wetness of her nightgown told her she'd peed herself.

In the distance, cars honked and engines revved. Another awful smell grew more potent, competing with the others. The burnt, tarry odor was familiar. She walked past the tire recycling facility every day on her way to school, and she despised the place. The black smoke always made her cough worse and left her short of breath. Her mother blamed her daughter's asthma on the factory.

Her abductor upended the sack by grasping the bottom. He shook it until she slithered out. Shrieking, she fell several feet to a concrete floor. The side of her skull slammed against a sharp surface and her mind swam with wavy lines of consciousness. Her whole body hurt. She lacked the strength to move.

The monster loomed above her, a dark and shadowy form.

"You must be punished for your sins." The lyrical voice dissolved into maniacal laughter. He carried her toward a steel drum filled to the brim with opaque fluid. He stood so much taller than her that her feet dangled far off the floor. She couldn't gain any traction.

"Mommy! Mommy! Please! Help me!" Shrieking, she flailed her limbs. His strength far eclipsed hers. She couldn't escape his grasp. The surface of the vat loomed before her face. The bitter scent of ink assailed her airways, and she choked on the stench. As her scream ended, he forced her face into the liquid. Darkness eclipsed her vision. Horrible pain burned in her eyes.

Reflexively, she inhaled. Fluid filled her mouth and throat, crushing her lungs. Terrified beyond reason, she sobbed and thrashed with all the strength in her frail body. Taunting, gleeful laughter filled her mind. The monster drank her sorrow and fed on her fear.

Her life force shrank.

Darkness.

Margaret simply stopped. Fighting. Breathing. Living. Being.

"Breathe, kid!" Rand's shout assailed Victoria's eardrums. He shook her like a rag doll in the grip of a great dog. His anger crashed through the pack bond like a rampaging bull, decimating everything in his path.

His open hand struck her cheek. Shocked, she opened her eyes. Rand's face loomed over her, contorted with panic, and his voice boomed over her. Still, the terrifying press of suffocation threatened to crush her. She gasped, fighting to draw a breath. Her heart thundered, and her lungs ached. Rand drew back his arm, and then his open palm smacked her cheek again. Her head whipped to the side, and Victoria gulped air into her starved lungs.

Expression thunderstruck, Rand lowered his hand. "What the hell happened?"

Victoria struggled to formulate words. The Beta wolf's steady presence helped fortify her composure. She grabbed hold of his arms to steady herself. At her core, horrified revulsion crystalized into fierce resolve. As a she-wolf, the brutal assault against a youngster was the worst possible sin imaginable. Goddess, I'm going to find this son of a bitch and disembowel him with my teeth.

Good. Freya's approval burned through Victoria. The goddess shared her primal loathing of a beast that preyed on helpless children.

"You okay, kid?" Rand prompted her.

She licked her lips and said, "I'm fine."

Rand rocked on his heels. "Sure don't look fine to me."

Victoria patted his forearms, offering reassurance. "Seriously, I'm fine. " Belatedly, she realized the others were huddled around her. Glancing at each, she studied the worried faces of her pack mates. Not just Paul and Rand, but Morena and Sophia crowded close to her also. They weren't a large pack, but their members were tough. Their strength bolstered hers.

She was so incredibly grateful for each and every one of them.

"Did the goddess reveal the location of the missing boy?" Sylvie asked with thinly veiled impatience.

"I have it," Victoria said. "I know what area to search for the stolen children."

"Good." Paul stood beside Sylvie, staunchly supporting his mate. "Where do we look?"

"Not we. Me," Victoria said. "We're going to have to divide up to cover as much ground as possible. I need Rand to go after Jasper. Sylvie, Paul, I want you to move the vehicles to a safer place."

Dissent rippled through the pack bond. Mouths opened in protest. Eyes gleamed with rebellion. Through their communion, she sensed that the others disliked her plan down to the last wolf. Only Morena was too full of shame to object.

Victoria braced, fully expecting a challenge to her leadership. Her self-doubt didn't help her confidence any. Aside from being the daughter of the deceased Alphas, she possessed no qualifications as a leader. She had less life experience than Rand, Sylvie, or Paul. So who was she to tell them what to do?

Exhaling, Rand released her and took a step back. "I'll take the truck 'n go after the brat. If I find him, you can rest easy that I'll haul his sorry ass home."

Before he finished speaking, Sylvie and Paul stifled their disagreement and lent their support. Solidarity crystalized within the pack; unity of purpose to the attainment of shared goals.

Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't have the strength to fight her own people and deal with the myriad external threats. "Thank you, Rand."

He grunted and tipped his head in acknowledgement. The ghost of a smirk hovered on his lips, gone before fully manifested.

"How far should we move the vehicles? And to where?" Paul asked. "Are you sure you don't want us to wait?"

"It's not safe." Victoria shook her head, recalling how close of a call she'd had earlier in downtown Albuquerque. Jake wasn't in shoot-first-ask-later mode, but he wasn't the only hunter. There were others, including Daniel's younger brothers. The maddened expression of rage on Sawyer's face haunted her memory.

Following a terse debate, Sylvie and Paul agreed to take the SUV and get on the highway, heading toward Santa Fe. Once beyond city limits, they'd find a safe place to stop and hole up with Morena and Sophia until the pack managed to reunite. Rand would follow in the pickup as soon as he located Jasper.

"How're you supposed to join us?" Morena asked, finally breaking her silence. The teenager stared at Victoria with wide, worried eyes.

"Don't worry. I'll catch up." Victoria mustered a smile for the girl. "If I have to, I'll summon Bifröst." Technically, she wasn't supposed to use the rainbow bridge for matters unrelated to her duties as a Valkyrie. Given the circumstances, she hoped Freya would make an exception.

You know I will. Why don't you just ask?

Victoria smothered a smile. It's easier to apologize than to ask permission.

The goddess sighed. Someday your propensity for questioning authority will get you into trouble, Victoria.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do when you find this creature?" Rand asked, eyeing her with plain trepidation. "No offense, kid, but you're not exactly built for monster slaying."

"Gee, thanks." She scrunched her nose. "Both of you. Stop giving me a hard time."

Rand's brow arched in fleeting confusion before realization dawned on his face. Then he grumbled. "You should listen to your goddess."

Laughter was Freya's only reply.

"Let's get moving," Rand grumbled. "Time's a wastin'."

Rand pulled the pickup truck alongside the shoulder of the road and stopped in front of the tire recycling facility. He twisted around to face Victoria and glared from beneath bushy red eyebrows knit into a fearsome scowl. "Be careful. If you need help, call me."

"Will do, Auntie Rand." Snickering, Victoria opened the passenger side door and slid from the truck. The light drizzle continued to fall, but her clothing was already soaked through. More rain hardly mattered. She closed the truck's door and watched while he drove away.

Once the taillights faded from view, she followed the chain link fence, walking the perimeter of the enclosed yard. Her hopes of picking up a scent trail proved futile. Aside from the rain, the stench of burned rubber pervaded the area.

She completed her circuit, having found no breaks in the fence or easy ways around the barrier. A thick chain and heavy padlock secured the front gate. Looking up, she considered the ten-foot climb which included a roll of barbed wire at the top.

With her wolf's strength, Victoria could jump it without much difficulty. However, she questioned whether a massive creature like the child thief would be capable of leaping so high. She suspected the entire structure would topple beneath his massive weight. And how would he make the climb while hauling along a sack containing a ten-year-old child?

There were other places she could look–commercial shopping complexes, industrial areas, and tenements. Even the gully wash she and Jasper had cut through would offer isolated places for the beast to make its lair. A search on foot would take forever. She had to find some way to narrow the area down.

As if in answer to her dilemma, a coyote's cry cut through the night. The speaker was a young female who had complaints about a padlock on a grocery store dumpster.

Victoria turned toward the sound which came from the direction of the creek. She judged the coyote to be less than a half mile distant. Perfect. Just the help she was looking for. She hoped they were friendly and not fiercely territorial. A band of coyote shifters stood a reasonable chance of taking down a lone she-wolf.

She had to gamble.

Tilting back her head, Victoria raised her voice in a nimble, polite howl of greeting. She supplied her name, rank, and pack, and then allowed the pure vocalization to fade. She cocked her head and waited.

Following a brief hesitation, a male coyote replied, cautiously welcoming. I'm Alpha of the Albuquerque City Slickers. His introduction ended on a high note of inquiry. What do you want, wolf?

The tip of her tongue darted across her dry lips as she swiftly weighed her words. Before she'd introduced herself, she hadn't stopped to consider that the band could be in cahoots with the child thief. A stupid mistake and one she couldn't retract. Following a brief internal debate, she decided to follow her initial instincts.

Summoning her power, Victoria infused her song with her own personal magic. She shared the heart-breaking visions of the kidnapped children and the few details she had of the monster. Her howl embodied loathing and loss, imperative and immediacy.

The coyote Alpha's howl cut her off mid-refrain. Are you going to kill the bastard?

Based on the proximity, he was moving closer to her.

Annoyed at the interruption, she swallowed her pride over the insult to her honor. Practicality demanded it. Besides, no one expected coyotes to respect social niceties. With equal brusqueness, Victoria viciously roared, Yes.

He waited until the curl on her snarl faded before he released a short series of yips. Talk to the mutt in the alley behind the grocery store.

Victoria scowled. "Asshole," she muttered. "I've got no more idea where the grocery store is than I do–"

Across the street, a man stepped into the open, emerging from some overgrown bushes. His tattered clothing included a long coat that hung to mid-calf. The garment concealed his build. He was bigger than her, though that was true of almost everyone.

"I'm Silver," he said. "Only my friends are allowed to call me asshole."