Of all the places they could go, Riordan had secretly hoped it wouldn’t be the ritual site. Well, he’d secretly hoped that on a personal level, but on a professional level, the ritual site was a damned sight better than the other choices. The cult compound was apparently a mess of traps. The ritual site had more unguarded land, or at least it had, relying on seclusion and probably some things that kept uninvited people from wandering too close to the tree and its heavy crop of rotting corpses.

The SUV slowed and then turned off the small grid road onto a drive that sounded like more dirt than gravel, a simple bumpy two-rut road or driveway. Shade fell across the car and more sounds of nature surrounded them. He remembered being dragged to the killing tree itself, so if that was their end goal, they would still need to park somewhere and approach on foot. Riordan did not look forward to doing that walk while hobbled and blindfolded.

The smell of wood smoke penetrated Riordan’s disgruntled thoughts and pulled him back to his surroundings. The SUV turned, following the ruts in the start of a U-turn, and then bumped over the ruts to drive out over grass. The vehicle stopped and then Billy shut it off. A dog started barking.

A familiar sounding bark. Riordan startled as he realized where he was. This had to be the cabin near the killing tree where his pursuers had come from the night he escaped. He pulled their names from his memory. Darren, the giant and more timid one. Tom, the grizzled hunter, and his dog Duke. Riordan was glad he’d only fucked with that pair while in his honey badger form. He had pissed Tom off when he’d messed up the man’s knee temporarily and then gone after his dog.

A door banged open from the direction of the cabin, followed by the clomp of one man’s boots on a wooden porch and the ratchet of a shotgun being cocked.

“Who the fuck are you?” a voice called out. Riordan placed it as Tom by the tone and roughness. The dog barking continued in the background, though it didn’t approach and was still muffled by a blocking door or wall. “This is private property.”

Billy opened his door and got out in a slow, smooth motion that rocked the SUV more with his absence than from his movement. He spoke facing towards the cabin with the bulk of the vehicle shielding him from Tom and his shotgun. Of course, that meant Riordan, sitting behind the passenger seat, was on the side towards the weapon. His skin crawled. He slipped into a partial shift, strengthening his skin just in case, even if he wasn’t bullet proof even in full shift.

“I have brought Riordan here, as required,” Billy stated, his voice still flat but it had lost some of that mechanical edge. Riordan wasn’t sure if that was a result of fulfilling a portion of his orders or if his stones had an impact of any sort. “Phenalope ordered me to lure him out, restrain him, and then bring him here. Contact her.”

There was a pause with no response and then the boots clomped down what sounded like three steps and crossed some of the yard towards the SUV before stopping. Riordan forced himself to sit still, facing forward and expression impassive. He could imagine the other man peering at him and taking in the blindfold and possibly even the rope around his left arm or wrists. That amused Riordan briefly, wondering what Tom would think of the black rope from the ritual looking like the start of some sort of kinky bondage stretched over Riordan’s muscular arm. He wasn’t some sort of delicate person to make the ropes look dainty or artistic.

“Fucking hell,” Tom muttered, “That’s the dude who ran isn’t it. How the hell did you manage that?”

“Please contact Phenalope,” Billy repeated, offering no further explanation.

Tom snorted. Riordan could hear his relaxation in his voice, the sound less gruff and more amused. He also heard the safety being re-engaged on the shotgun. “Yeah, she’s going to want to know about this,” Tom said, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Yeah, no fear of that. Billy was about as rambunctious as a statue currently and Riordan was playing it cool, despite the adrenaline running through his veins. Phenalope coming out here was a hell of a lot better than having to meet her in the middle of her ceremony hall in the compound. He hoped she didn’t bring a ton of people with her when she came.

He frowned. If she came. She could always give directions for Riordan to be moved to a more secure location. Did he fight that if it happened? He wasn’t sure. He needed more information to move wisely. This opportunity was, in many ways, an infiltration and sabotage mission. Only, he wasn’t sure when to switch from the first to the second for maximum results. Perhaps a mix was called for.

Riordan could hear Tom and his dog inside the house. The way Tom talked indicated he was on the phone. People had this way of talking more clearly on the phone, the result more audible but less natural. Riordan leaned forward, sticking his hands into the door pocket and coming up with one of the stones. He wished he had more experience and exposure to the stones. Most of them were polished smooth, most clearly distinguished visually despite having different magical affinities. Since he’d grabbed all the stones in the sample box, not all of them were perfect for his purposes. He needed a stone that could anchor and amplify his effect enough to be useful.

He quickly probed the rock clenched in his fist for any identifying spark to narrow in on which he held. An image of Ingrid, Quinn’s child ghost friend came to mind, her golden curls and bright smile flashing before him. Moonstone. This was the moonstone, like with Ingrid’s ghost gem. Moonstone was used for feminine energy, insight, intuition, and new beginnings. It was tied to the moon, but also uplifted and calmed emotions and thoughts. Riordan almost set it aside as unsuited before he remembered that it could be used as a psychic amplifier. Using it as an anchor would definitely feel different than Riordan had intended, but it would work.

Riordan poured magic into the moonstone. He held a mental scream in his mind, resonating it around the inside of the pale stone. It was crude, but Riordan fed in the elements of intuition and insight, weaving it between his spiritual SOS call. Using the affinity with female energy, Riordan created a filter to his blatant effect, making anyone who was feminine completely overlook the stone. That meant that only Ahlgren, Quinn, and Mark were likely to pick up the signal, but honestly, the agents were the ones that Riordan most wanted to find their way here.

The sound of the cabin door banging open again brought Riordan out of his quick spell. He slipped the moonstone into a different pocket than the other stones. He hoped it was enough to pull someone here. The range likely sucked, but his backup knew enough details to get close. He hoped so anyway. If not, Riordan would manage on his own.

“Hey, Phenalope wants to talk to you,” Tom called from the porch, clearly meaning Billy. The guard hadn’t moved at all in the time since Tom had stepped inside but he moved now, his shorter legs eating up the distance in rapid steps before joining Tom on the porch. Riordan focused on his hearing, hoping Billy took the call outside. He cracked the door open to help reduce interference too.

“Ma’am,” Billy said shortly by way of greeting.

The voice from the other side of the call didn’t sound nearly as crazed as the last time Riordan had heard it, but the death mage had left an indelible impression and he recognized her voice. “I’m impressed,” she said, “I had considered sending you in a long shot. You really have him?”

“I delivered your ultimatums,” Billy said, his voice sounding fakely mechanical in a way Riordan couldn’t quite put his finger on, “He chose to cooperate rather than risk your hostages.”

“Oh,” she breathed, pleasure heavy in her voice, “He really is a gem, isn’t he. I don’t know what it is about you folks that makes you glow with magic like that. I mean, clearly you guys are mages of some sort. But he’s something special. I can’t wait to make him submit to me. I’ll be there soon. Cooperate with Tom until I get there. Give the phone back to him.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Billy responded before clearly complying.

Tom spoke a second later. “Yeah? What’s our next move then, Boss?”

“I’ll be there soon. I won’t be alone. Keep my guests inside until I get there. It’s finally all coming together as intended. The Goddess has blessed us.” Phenalope seemed to truly believe that, judging by her tone. Either that, or she was a damned good liar. Riordan would bet that the death mage corruption made her buy into her own bullshit either way.

“Will do, Boss,” Tom said. Unlike Phenalope, the old hunter sounded more bored than anything, like he really didn’t care about what happened next. Like Riordan wasn’t sitting there trussed up as a sacrifice to be killed later.

A beep had to mean the end of the phone call because Tom’s voice lost that phone-voice quality. “Alright, you. Get that guy inside here. If he fights, get him to cooperate however you got him here. The boss will take over when she gets here.”

Fighting Billy wasn’t in Riordan’s plan. It might become necessary, but Riordan much rather hurt someone who deserved it. There were going to be a whole passel of such people here way too soon. Billy came over to the SUV, opening Riordan’s door without commenting on the way it had already been slightly open.

“Come along,” Billy ordered, reaching forward to pick up the leading tails of Riordan’s wrist bindings and then stepping back to give Riordan room.

Walking without sight always sucked. Doing it without sight and with hobbles only made it worse. Riordan didn’t let his discomfort show. Instead, he swung his feet around and placed them on the ground. Grass, even enough in length to be a yard but not neatly trimmed. The spiky summer-baked grass bent under his boots, providing solid footing. The slight pull of the lead rope on his wrists let Riordan know which way Billy was guiding him, even if he hadn’t been able to pinpoint the guard by the sound of his beating heart and even breathing or the way the air bent around his presence.

He levered himself out of the car in a single flexing motion. Habit would have had him stabilizing himself with a hand on the door frame, but that wasn’t an option currently. That was fine. Riordan might have gotten the shit kicked out of him by life in a lot of ways, but he was still tough and strong, his faded military physique backed by his shifter nature.

Billy waited until Riordan was steady and then began to lead the way back to the cabin in small steps. Riordan appreciated the shorter stride length of Billy’s pace because the damn hobble didn’t allow him to walk normally. He concentrated on stepping right along behind Billy, following his path as nearly as possible while blind. He trusted the man not to lead him over rough terrain. Still, warning would have been nice when Billy reached the stairs for the porch and went up at the same pace, expecting Riordan to follow. Billy knew that Riordan could pick out the placement of the stairs with his other senses just fine, but a regular person probably couldn’t.

With a low growl, Riordan let himself stumble when he hit the stairs. He made a show of trying and failing to recover his footing before going to his knees hard on the porch, the bang of impact loud in this secluded forest. Billy stopped, tugging lightly on the lead rope. The direction of his voice made it clear that Billy was looking at him when he heartlessly ordered Riordan again, “Come along.”

Tom immediately began laughing at him, Duke’s barking accompanying the sound as a mocking duet. “After all the trouble you gave us,” Tom chortled, “it’s a damned pleasure to see someone make you their bitch.”