Cade broke in. “But half of Shiftertown was there too. Everyone knows we like the place. And they took the thing back to where we hold the fight club.”

“True,” Kenzie said thoughtfully. “Or maybe it was a test run, to see if it could stand against Shifters.”

“Or if Shifters could stand against it,” Bowman finished. “Notice which residents of Shiftertown weren’t there that night?”

“Dimitru pack,” Jamie said at once. “Bastards. No offense, Kenzie.”

“None taken,” Kenzie said mildly. As she’d told Uncle Cristian, she didn’t consider herself Dimitru pack anymore. Bowman and Ryan were her pack now, all she wanted.

Jamie finally sat down and started eating. “So, Bowman, are you thinking Kenzie’s uncle Cristian found a way to breed a crazy animal strong enough to kill off half the Shifters? Would he do that?”

“Are you kidding?” Kenzie asked. “He would totally do that. The question isn’t would he, but could he?”

“One way to find out,” Bowman said, pushing aside his empty plate and rising.

Kenzie jumped up in alarm and went to him. “Don’t even think about charging over to Uncle Cristian’s and challenging him this morning.”

Bowman turned a cold gaze on her. “I’m not going to think about it. I’m just going to do it.”

Kenzie put herself in front of him as he started for the door. “You don’t have any evidence. If you take him out without proof he did anything, you violate pack law. The others won’t let you get away with that.”

Bowman faced her. “I’ll have the evidence when I beat it out of him.” His eyes were crystalline in the morning light, white gray and unyielding. “I’m not going to rush in and kill him, Kenz. I’ll ask him first.”

“He’s not a pushover. He’ll use any excuse to topple you.”

Bowman’s eyes went whiter still. “You think he can beat me?”

“I think he’s treacherous enough to find a way.”

Bowman held her gaze, his fury burning her. She wanted to latch on to him, tell him to stay home and be safe, to wrap her arms around him and hold him close.

“Come with me then,” Bowman said. “Keep an eye on your uncle for me while I’m beating the crap out of him.”

Before Kenzie could answer, Ryan got up and came to them. He was half his father’s height now, and while he was still on the slim side, he had plenty of wiry strength.

“You need me to come with you too,” Ryan declared. “Before you yell at me and say no, you know it’s true. I can butter up Uncle Cristian to tell us what he knows. I’m not only his bloodline—I’m also a very cute little cub.”

Cade roared a sudden laugh that rattled the pots hanging in the kitchen, and Jamie chuckled. “He’s got you there, Bowman,” Cade said in his booming voice. “Kid, you’re going to make one hell of a pack leader someday.”

Bowman agreed, Kenzie could tell. He cast his glare all around, but Kenzie saw the flash of pride in his eyes before he slammed out of the house. Kenzie and Ryan snatched their coats from the hooks in the hall and followed.

* * *

Cristian Dimitru made his accent extra thick as he faced Bowman. “What you saying? I make . . . what? Griffin—what does this mean?”

Asshole, Bowman growled to himself. Cristian, the shithead, spoke perfect English. But he liked to mess with Bowman, especially when he didn’t want to answer questions.

“It’s a cool animal from mythology, Uncle Cris,” Ryan said. He sounded more childlike than usual, and Bowman narrowed his eyes. Ryan’s cunning came directly from his Dimitru blood. “Dad would only let me see a photo of it, but it was humongous.”

Cristian’s gaze sharpened as he looked at Bowman. “You let your cub see it?”

Kenzie broke in smoothly. “He deserves to know about any threat to Shifters.” She was tense, Bowman saw, though she stood easily and looked Cristian in the eye.

“Show it to me,” Cristian said.

Kenzie put her hand into her coat pocket and removed the photos she’d printed. Gil had e-mailed them to Bowman as promised, the e-mails arriving as Jamie cooked, and Kenzie had printed them out. She didn’t have any photo paper, only plain, so they were gray scale and not very good. But there was enough detail to prove the creature had existed.

Cristian flipped through them. “Where is this thing now?” His accent had mostly gone.

“On a pyre,” Bowman answered. “Ready to be sent to the Goddess.”

“I want to see it first.”

“Why?” Bowman resisted jerking the pages out of Cristian’s hands. “So you can make sure it’s dead? Make sure I can never tie it to you?”

Cristian gave him an annoyed look. “I’m flattered you think me skilled enough to breed a mythological beast. Do you have any other theories, or did you decide I alone should take the blame for it?”

Bowman didn’t answer. He had plenty of ideas about the beast spinning through his head. Cristian breeding it, or causing it to be bred, or knowing who had done it, was only one. He’d come here to cross this theory off his list and move on to the next idea. Or use it as an excuse to kill Cristian. Whatever.

“If I look at it, maybe I can tell where it came from,” Cristian said. “It isn’t Fae?”

“No smell of Faerie,” Bowman said. Anything from Faerie had a distinctive odor—a hint of sulfur and otherworldly fire. The griffin had only smelled like a very large, very stinky, very dead animal.