“Natned!” Conlan yelled to be heard over the sound of the engine.

“He needs a deer leg bone to gnaw on,” Curran said. “They were my favorite.”

“Can it be a cooked leg bone?”

“He is a shapeshifter,” Curran said. “You know we don’t have to worry about bacteria and diseases.”

“What about intestinal parasites?”

“I’ve been eating raw meat for all of my life and never gotten a parasite.”

“I would feel better if it was cooked.”

Curran studied me for a moment, reached over, and squeezed my hand. “Still having a hard time with the shapeshifter baby thing?”

“No. I love him whoever or whatever he is. But I spent eighteen months worrying that he would stop breathing at night, or get sick, or become injured, and raw deer femurs don’t go along with that.”

“Cooked bones splinter. He’ll hurt himself.”

“It’s funny how you use logic in an argument and think it will persuade me.”

“He is still teething. He’ll need something to gnaw on.”

“On one hand, a clean Conlan eating cereal. On the other, Conlan covered in blood gnawing on a deer leg.”

“Which one seems more like your kid?” Curran asked.

I gave him the look of death. He laughed.

“Okay,” I told him. “But if he gets worms, it’s on you.”

Curran turned onto Jeremiah Street. “I let him eat a mouse in the forest yesterday.”

“Of course you did. Why wouldn’t you let your baby eat some filthy rodent in the woods?”

“He caught it himself. I’m not going to take his kill away from him.”

Why me?

We parked. Curran shut off the engine and turned to me. His eyes had turned dark. “Don’t leave me, Kate.”

“Where did that come from?”

“I mean it,” he said. “I’ve got your back.”

And I had his. That’s why when my father finally showed up to fight us with his army, I would do whatever I had to do to make sure he and Conlan survived. No matter the cost.

“I love you,” I told him, and got out of the Jeep.

* * *

• • •

THE ALPHA OF Clan Rat slipped through the doorway of Cutting Edge as if his joints were liquid. Of average height, Robert Lonesco had a slim build. His hair was coal black, his eyes brown and velvety, and he turned heads whenever he entered the room. He was also happily married to his husband, Thomas, and had no plans to change that any time soon.

Conlan, who’d been running around the tables in a circle, sighted Robert and went into a crouch.

Robert raised his eyebrows and took a step forward.

The shift was instant. One second normal—well, mostly normal—human child, the next an oversized black lion cub.

Robert’s jaw hung open. He actually did a double take. I didn’t blame him. Conlan made an adorable lion cub. At least he hadn’t gone into warrior form again.

“Congratulations,” Robert finally managed.

“Thank you,” Curran said, his face nonchalant, as if nothing notable were happening.

My son shrugged the shreds of his clothes off himself and showed Robert his lion fangs. “Rawrrawrrr!”

“Is he challenging me?” Robert’s eyes sparkled.

I put my hand over my face.

“Rawrwrwa!”

“That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Conlan,” Curran said, putting some growl into his voice. “Come here.”

“Rawr.”

Curran got up and strode toward Conlan. My kid lunged sideways, but Curran was too fast. His hand snapped out, and he lifted Conlan by the scruff of his neck. “No.”

Conlan settled into his father’s arms, eyeing Robert like he was a cobra. We were currently in waiting mode, gathering strength for the time my father decided to invade us, but if I somehow survived and I got to raise my son, I was in for a hell of a time.

“I want one,” Robert declared.

“What’s stopping you?” Curran asked.

“We’ve talked about it.” Robert sat in the chair in front of my desk. “We’re not sure if we’d go the adoption or surrogate route. In any case, the timing isn’t quite right.”

“The timing is never quite right,” I told him.

“How are you handling this?” Robert asked me.

“Last night my husband let my thirteen-month-old spend an hour in the woods rolling in the creek mud and eating raw mice, and then my son passed out on the dog pillow hugging Grendel.”

Robert winced. “I can see how that would be disconcerting. Did you have to sterilize the child after he touched that creature?”

“Ha. Ha.” I picked up the file I’d put together last night and handed it to him. “Everything we have. Biohazard did a quick walk-through with a portable m-scanner. The copies of the printouts are in there, together with copies of my notes and Derek’s notes. I’m very sorry, Robert.”

“Thank you.” Robert accepted the file. His expression turned serious. “I have some news to trade.”

“It’s not nice news, is it?” I asked.

Robert pulled a photo from his pocket and put it on the table. A tall man on top of the roof of a ruined building. His trench coat, sewn together from patches of different leathers and hides, flared as he walked across a steel beam protruding over a sheer drop. The beam had to be less than six inches wide. Wind stirred the man’s black hair.

“Razer,” I said. I’d recognize that green-skinned bastard anywhere.

When my father felt my aunt waking up, he created a cult of assassins raised to kill her if she became a problem. He called his cult the Order of Sahanu, after an ancient word that meant “to unsheathe a dagger.” He fed them all sorts of bullshit about the divinity of our blood. The sahanu lived for a single purpose: to kill at my father’s command, so they could be granted heavenly afterlife. Their highest goal was to murder one of our blood. My aunt, except I killed her first. Me. My son.

My father had skated very close to the invisible line that people in our family didn’t cross. Erra reminded me of it at least monthly: whatever you do, don’t become a god. Faith had power, and once your followers believed in you, your thoughts and actions were no longer your own. Not to mention that the more people believed in you, the closer to godhood you came, and gods couldn’t exist in our reality, not permanently. They required magic for manifestation, and the tech shift would wipe them out. Roland had sidestepped the issue by making the blood divine instead of himself personally, but if the sahanu grew in numbers, he would have a serious problem on his hands. His ability to move freely in our world would be compromised, too dependent on belief and magic.

Sahanu were fanatics, immune to reason, bribery, and pressure. I had managed to break one of them free of Roland’s grasp almost two years ago. Adora was still learning to be a person. During her last birthday, she disappeared right before her surprise party. We’d turned the city inside out looking for her. Given that she was one of the most skilled killers I’ve ever fought, I was sure something bad had happened to her or because of her. She came out of the woods twenty-four hours later, covered in mud. She’d seen some baby otters and followed them around the creek all day.

Adora was ranked fourth in the sahanu ranks. Razer was ranked first.

“Where was this taken?” Curran asked.

“Sandy Springs.”

Shit. Razer wouldn’t have entered my territory unless he had orders to be here.

“Is Roland moving?” Curran asked.

Robert nodded. “We are receiving reports of increased traffic to Jester Park.”

“He’s pulling in his troops,” Curran said.

“It would appear so,” Robert agreed.

“My father is about to restart the war.” I leaned back in the chair. Now? He was doing it now, when we had all this other crap to deal with? His timing couldn’t be worse.

Conlan gathered himself and jumped off Curran’s lap, clear across the table to me. I caught him, but the impact of forty pounds rocked me back. He licked my cheek.