After she'd let him in the car, and he'd shifted back to human and dressed, they'd driven up and down every road in that town, hunting for the red truck while they filled one another in. But they'd found no sign of it.

"How do we know the Mage don't have the Daemon caged again, as they did in the caverns?" she asked. "I thought you believed the wraith Daemons weren't controllable."

"I don't know what the Mage are doing, or what their involvement is. All I know is I'm catching Daemon scent all over the place. That thing is definitely loose."

"Would the Mage have a reason to follow along behind it, cleaning up the mess he leaves? And if the Daemon is feeding on its own, why did they enthrall those two men this afternoon?"

"All good questions, and I can't answer a one. The scent's old. Better part of a day. As if it hasn't been through here since last night."

"You think it's nocturnal."

"Yep. That's what we've suspected all along, and that scent trail supports it."

Olivia finished her sandwich and wadded up her trash, watching with envy as Jag took a big bite of his third.

"What's our next move?" she asked.

"As soon as it's dark, I'm going hunting."

She caught the singular. "I'm going with you."

"That would be ano way in hell , Red. You heard what Lyon said about Kougar and Hawke running across a draden swarm in the mountains. There were nearly forty of them. I'm good, but even I can't take out forty at once. Unless you want to get your pretty little ass killed, you'll be hanging out in the Hummer until daybreak."

"You must be kidding." What she wouldn't give to be able to tell him the truth, that she couldn't be harmed by the draden. Even so..."What do you think the Therian Guard are, Feral? Not all of us have the advantage of being able to shift, but you're not the only ones who can fight draden."

He leaned forward, anger flashing in his eyes. "How many do you fight at a time in Scotland? Not forty. Not even half that."

She bit off her argument, because he was right. And while she could handle more draden than any other guard, she did it through weakening them by feeding on them.

And she wouldn't be able to here. Not if Jag were anywhere around. She'd have to fight them with nothing but knives. And forty would be way too many.

Still, the thought of being consigned to the Hummer all night seriously rankled. Except she wouldn't be, would she? All she had to do was get far enough away from Jag, and she could hunt and feed all she wanted.

"I'm good at what I do, Jag." She was keeping up appearances, now. Arguing, as he expected her to.

"I didn't say you weren't."

She shook her head, releasing a disgusted huff. "So, what? My role is to play chauffeur to a cat?" Appearances or not, she was annoyed. Honestly, what use were any of the Therian Guard going to be if the Ferals insisted on keeping them locked behind warding every night?

His eyes took on a devilish gleam as his gaze slid leisurely down to her breasts. "I can think of another role you could audition for."

"Not amused. Why am I here, Jag? And for once, can you forget the sexual?"

His mouth pursed, the carnal light leaving his eyes as he nodded. "If I find the Daemon trail, we'll follow it during daylight. With the Mage in the picture, I'm absolutely going to need backup, Olivia. Goddess only knows what we've stumbled onto."

Their gazes met, for once without the light of sexual awareness blinding everything else. In his gaze, she saw the steel-hearted warrior, the man determined to find and bring down this enemy no matter what it took. For once, he allowed her a glimpse behind the mask, and something inside her lifted, responding. Recognizing a kindred soul.

"All right?" he asked.

She nodded slowly. "Yes." She knew he thought she was agreeing to bide her time in the Hummer tonight in exchange for the promise of a purpose tomorrow.

But he'd be getting that backup sooner than he expected. And not exactly in the way he planned. Because he wasn't the only one going draden-and Daemon-hunting tonight.

And if she was very, very careful, he would never know.

Kougar drove Hawke's Yukon north along Skyline Drive while Hawke scanned police reports on his laptop beside him.

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"No reports of any murders in the area," Hawke said. "Which probably only means no one's found the victims yet."

Kougar had to agree. They'd been so close last night to catching one of the Daemons.

They'd had the bastard. He'd been right there, hovering over the pond, clearly drawn to the trap. But the magic that should have snared him hadn't.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he replayed the moment in his head when he'd first seen the thing, seen a Daemon again for the first time in five thousand years. Though Kougar no longer felt much in the way of emotions, his mind had been more than capable of taking in the chilling magnitude of the moment. Never in his worst nightmares had he thought he'd see the day when Daemons once more terrorized the world.

The one last night had been drawn to the trap, as they'd planned. But he'd hovered over it for several seconds, then flown off again instead of being pulled in. The magic hadn't worked.

The two Ferals had given chase, Kougar on the ground, Hawke in the sky, but the thing had eluded them and eventually lost them. Because they could fly, Daemons were brutally hard to hunt.

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"Any idea why the trap didn't work?" Hawke asked.

"We need Ilina blood. And Ilina magic. I was hoping we could get by without them, but apparently we can't."

"The two things we can't possibly get," Hawke said in a tone that warned that his mind had latched onto a subject that intrigued him. He looked up to stare out the window. "I've studied the Ilinas extensively, though there's little enough written about them. They were artists and philosophers, dancers and musicians, at one time. A peaceful race who suddenly turned violent. Like the sirens of lore, they began to lure men, human and immortal, with their beauty and song, into the Crystal Realm, where they tortured or enslaved them for the remainder of the captives' short lives. That's the legend."

Hawke turned to glance at him. "You know the truth."

"No one knows what happened to their victims once they entered the Crystal Realm.

It's all speculation."

"Because none returned to tell the tale."

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"Because none survived. No corporeal being, mortal or immortal, can live long in that place. But the rest of what you've described is as I remember."

Hawke nodded. "Most believe they were infected by dark spirit. That Queen Ariana destroyed her race herself when she saw what they'd become."

Kougar didn't comment. He didn't know the answer himself. All he knew was the beauties they'd all once adored had turned into evil bitches, perpetrating untold atrocities before faking their extinction and disappearing. He'd been duped like all the rest. It was only in very recent years that he'd learned the truth - that they weren't gone at all and never had been.

Hawke made a sound of frustration. "So traps are out."

It wasn't a question, and Kougar didn't answer. Because he wasn't giving up on the traps just yet. They were by far their best chance of catching the Daemons without Feral casualties. He just had to get the right ingredients.

Come nightfall, he was going hunting.

For Ilina.

Jag climbed out of the Hummer and stripped out of his clothes, tossing them in the back. It was an hour after full dark. The draden should be out anytime now, and with any luck, so would the Daemon.

Olivia sat in the front, arms crossed over her chest. She'd really expected him to take her with him? He knew what it was like to hunt draden as a mere Therian. He'd done it hundreds of times. And it was damned dangerous. And that was in places where the draden traveled in packs of no more than a dozen. Goddess only knew what they'd find out here.

"If I'd sent Niall with you, would you have allowed him to hunt?"

"Can he shift?"

"That wasn't my question."

"It's the only one I'm asking. If you can shift, you can come."

"You're obnoxious."

Pamela Palmer Rapture Untamed

"Yeah, don't I know it. So sue me for trying to keep you alive. Stay put until I call for you, Red. That's an order." He slammed the door shut against her further arguments.

He had to hand it to her - she had courage to spare. But she wasn't dying out here tonight, that was all there was to it.

He pulled on the power within him, the power of the jaguar. In a rush of pure pleasure, he shifted into his animal form and took off at a run. He'd remain in his full-sized jaguar tonight. Not only would he cover more ground that way, but in the dark, no one would be able to get a good look at him.

Ferals' eyesight in the dark was almost as good as in daylight. Not so, humans.

He roamed the woods and streets of Harpers Ferry, finding nothing but old scent. If this kept up, it was going to be a damned long night. He'd been at it an hour or two when his thoughts turned back to Olivia.

Thinking about me,Sugar?

He expected some sharp retort concerning voodoo dolls and pins in his groin. Instead, he got no reply, just a dark sense of fear. His pulse began to thrum with a mix of dread and concern.

You see him,don't you ,Red? You see the Daemon.

Yes.

Shit. Stay in the Hummer. I'll be right there.

Goddess, what if the thing was strong enough to tear open the doors? He was already running full bore back the way he'd come when she answered.

I'm not in the Hummer,Jag. I'm about a mile upriver on the Shenandoah side.

He turned midstride and headed west, his brain scrambling to keep up. She wasn't in the damned Hummer.

Your listening skills suck,Red ,you know that? Has the Daemon seen you?

He's hovering about six yards away,staring at me. Jag heard the tremor she tried to hide, a tremor of the mind and spirit. She was fucking terrified. And she wasn't the only one.

Dammit. Dammit! He ran as fast as his four legs would travel, but he was all too afraid he wasn't going to make it in time. Something raw and painful ripped through his chest.

Stay calm,Red. I'm not far from there. I'm on my way.

Hurry,Jag.

She wasn't going to die. Dammit, Olivia was not going to die.

But he knew what Daemons could do.

And he feared he was going to be too late.

Cold sweat ran down Olivia's temples as she covered her nose against the awful stench and stared at the gruesome sight, at the monster a dozen times more terrifying than anything her imagination had been able to dredge up. A Daemon. An honest-to-God Daemon.

Her breath trembled in her lungs, her damp hands gripping her knives until her fingers ached as her gaze raked the creature's hideous and contorted face. Its features were as indistinct as a draden's, as if the face had been made from wax left too long in the sun. Sharp, uneven fangs hung from a sloping mouth while small, wicked daggers protruded from his fingertips in the form of claws. Thick ropes of black hair hung from his head, each shimmering with frightening iridescence as it embraced the long, black cloak that encased his hovering body.

After Jag left her in the Hummer, she'd given him a small head start, then tried to follow on foot, but she'd already lost him. She might be fast, but the jaguar was faster.

So she'd opened her senses, the ones tuned to draden, to see if she might be able to pick up an energy trail. Sure enough, as she'd neared the Shenandoah, she'd felt a prickle of current run over her skin. She'd followed it as it grew hotter and more urgent, right to the Daemon.

As he floated closer, she spread her feet fighting distance apart, gripping her knives as her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Opening herself, she pulled at that swirl of Daemon energy, pulling it into her. Feeding. If Jag were close enough to feel something, she'd blame it on the Daemon.

But she nearly vomited. The energy wasn't true life force, but something else.

Something rancid. Foul.

The Daemon hissed, an ugly, inhuman sound of anger as if he'd felt her. He moved closer, his wicked claws extended, a huge creature, easily as big as Jag. Sweat rolled between her shoulder blades as she braced herself for the fight of her life.

As the Daemon flew at her, she struck, slicing one knife across his outstretched hand, spinning and stabbing her second knife into his shoulder before leaping away again.

The Daemon screamed, a terrible, high-pitched sound.

Olivia marveled at the speed and ease with which she'd just moved - faster than she'd ever moved before. Was it adrenaline? Or the Daemon's energy? The latter. She could feel it inside her, swirling, strengthening. The stuff might taste foul, but it was powerful. Opening herself, she took more.

The Daemon hissed and struck, raking one of his claws down her left arm, shredding her jacket and her flesh. Pain screamed through her body, the pain of the wound, and more. As if he'd not only cut her open, but poured acid inside. She clamped down on the scream that roared up her throat and spun away, feeding harder, faster.

But the acid raced through her blood, counteracting the strength of the Daemon energy itself. Slowing her down.

The Daemon struck a second time. She spun and ducked beneath the wicked claws aiming for her face. And felt the sharp piercing of the flesh of her back.

The scream ripped from her throat, even as she rose, stabbing the Daemon through what should have been his gut. But her knife met only air. What in the hell was beneath that robe? She stabbed high into his chest, and this time her blade found purchase close to where his right shoulder blade met his clavicle. Something wet and sticky splattered over her hand.