Roman had been asleep when the call had come. Adrenaline had erased any sluggish exhaustion and had him running for his Fang. The Griffon flagship was missing.

Every Wolf ship, every Wolf pilot, was in darkspace right now. The Griffon lords had been on their ship. They were hours overdue.

It was no secret, the fighting that had gone on this interval between Ghislaine and the Griffon. No secret that the Griffon had refused Wolf escorts, too proud or too paranoid. It didn’t matter. The Wolf wouldn’t withhold their aid now out of some petty need to say I told you so. That sort of thing could wait until after the Executor had been located.

The Wolf fleet had scattered, spread, trying to cover as much of endless Darkspace as they could. Roman had pushed hard and fast, knowing he could get farther, faster, than anyone else. “We on our own yet?” he asked his ship.

“Forty-five minutes since last contact,” his AI responded.

“All right. Keep your eyes open. I’m starting a search pattern.

Roman leaned back in his chair as the visor flipped forward to cover his face. He slid his hands into the metal gloves at the ends of his armrests, felt the familiar prick of tiny needles and the jolt of power as he connected with the ship. Roman’s body fell away as the nima within him made contact with the ship’s sensors and the world around him shifted.

Every clan had their close-guarded secrets. The Griffon with their isolations. The Dragon and the flight suits of their Phoenix Guard. The Serpents and…everything. This, right here, this was what the Wolf held close.

Any person with a full hikmaic adaptation could navigate Darkspace. Every clan had their pilots of varying levels of skill. When things went wrong, they all came to the Wolf, who had pushed their hikmaic gifts farther than any clan could even conceive, and then had built their ships to push their gifts even farther.

Ship sensors could reach far beyond what Roman could feel on his own, but darkspace made that sensory suite unreliable. By sinking into the ship, by merging with its mind, its body, Roman’s hikmaic senses gained the reach no human could manage on their own. The nima were bridge and key, and no one outside the Wolf even knew scouts could do this. Thy only counted the miracles when Wolf scouts found those believed lost forever.

Roman could feel…everything. The infinity of darkspace spread around him; Roman had become part of it. It was endless, boundless, but it was also all around him, all within reach. Roman had long ago stopped questioning how that was possible. He simply knew it was.

Ripples and eddies swirled around him, the currents tugging towards the Dark World. It was close. This close to the eclipse, the Dark World was close everywhere. It wouldn’t be inescapable for another few weeks, but that didn’t make it safe. A careless pilot…

Wouldn’t be flying the Griffon flagship. And if they had been—if Executor had been pulled into the Dark World’s orbit, there were plenty of Wolves hunting in that direction. If the ship was there, it would be found.

Roman focused back on the space around him. Shadows and troughs were demons—some close, some not. Bright points of energy were other Wolf ships, the spreading pattern of their search. When he was working through his own ship, Roman took in their identity reflexively, knew them for who they were.

Lord Faust had ordered all other ships out of darkspace. There was no assistance any other clan could offer that wouldn’t slow the Wolf down. Even the Griffon had relented, pulling their own search ships back into realspace with a minimum of argument. Even they could see the risk of only compounding their failure and giving the Wolf more ships to rescue.

“Where are you?” Roman muttered to himself as his fingers spread wide in unconscious mimicry of the reach he was making with his mind.

In this state, Roman’s mind had only a light connection to his body. His own senses were subsumed in the greater sensations of the ship. But he wasn’t completely cut off. It only meant he was slow to notice the smell—the fragrance of smoke and roses surrounding him.

Something he hadn’t smelled in over a year. Not since his…encounter…in the Serpent city.

No mistaking it now. Or the heat moving through him in response. For the moment, at least, there was no fear. Only frustration. He was trying to work, and this was a distraction.

“But I am here to help you, little wolf.” The voice was a whisper in his ear. He could feel the air moving as she spoke. She was here, with him.

Roman jerked free of the ship, fast enough to send a stab of pain through his head as he disconnected from the system. He pulled out of the visor, ripped his hands out of the gloves…

He was alone in his Fang. No one else was here.

Her laughter echoed in his ear. The smell of roses was near overwhelming. But he couldn’t see her, and his ship registered no demonic presence anywhere close.

“What do you want?”

“To help, as I said. I know what you seek, and I know how to find it.”

“Why? Why are you here? Why would you help me?”

Her voice was against his other ear, her breath tickling his skin. “Perhaps because it amuses me to do so.”

Sudden movement across the cockpit window made Roman jump as the ship gave sudden alarm. Darkness with a thousand eyes and a dozen sharp, barbed legs scuttled down to look at Roman from outside.

“Or perhaps I simply tire of all of you in my space,” she continued, her whisper no louder than before.

Roman stared at the demon; its unblinking eyes stared back.

“Follow, Roman. Follow the guide, and you will find your ship.”