Fair Game

Hunter had hit Boston twice, Charles remembered.
    “If this were springtime, we’d have trouble accessing Gallops,” said Malcolm. “As it is, there are some docks that are still usable. I’ll take us around.”
    “We know where we’re going,” said Charles to the witch. “Release the boy.”
    “I thought he was just a collection of memories,” she murmured. “Just an old sweater discarded when Jacob died.”
    Charles jumped to the top of the railing of the fishing platform and bent his knees, balancing with the sudden lurch the force of his jump had caused and then settling more comfortably as the rise and fall of the boat steadied to the ocean’s hand.
    He caught the witch’s eyes and, bringing Brother Wolf and all of his power to the fore, said, “Let him go.”
    She obeyed before she thought, his sudden appearance and the force of his order dictating her actions. She dismissed the ghost with a flick of her power. Then her jaw dropped in outrage, and magic gathered around her.
    “Don’t,” said Charles before she could complete whatever mischief came to mind. “You won’t like what happens.”
    He hopped down beside her and picked up the little frog pot. The sickly magic residue tried to crawl onto his fingers, but flinched back from Brother Wolf’s presence at the last moment. His instinct said that whatever ties the contents of the pot had to Jacob were gone, used up—and that was good enough for him. He tossed the frog out over the side of the boat, making sure that it spun upside down and scattered its contents as it fell.
    She hissed and flung something that slid off him like water. Charles shook his head.
    “Do you think I would have survived this long if some hastily constructed spell could harm me?” It wasn’t a lie. He was just asking her a question. If her answer was the wrong one, it was not his fault. Half of his reputation rested on stories people told about him. He’d been lucky. He wore some protections, and being a werewolf was another kind of protection, but no one was invulnerable. The secret of being safe from magic was to make people think it was useless to attack him by that method.
    Charles swung back over the platform railing and landed lightly on the deck below. He took a seat on one of the benches that served asbait containers near the bow, and his mate scooted over and sat on his lap.
    Anna kissed his jawline and he felt the ghosts’ predatory rumblings.
Closer, bring her closer,
they said, cackling.
We shall eat her and share her among us.
    Mine,
answered Brother Wolf. He tightened his arms around her when Charles would have sent her to safety. But Brother Wolf held her and stared at the moon, who sang serenely to him.
    CHARLES JUMPED OUT with one of the dock lines as soon as the boat was near. The wooden platform felt sturdy under his boots and the cleat he tied his line off to looked new. He asked Malcolm about it as the others disembarked.
    “The parks department comes out and they need somewhere to tie up their boats, don’t they?” asked Malcolm rhetorically. “So they keep the dock up.”
    “Stick together,” said Charles. “Malcolm, your job is to keep our FBI agents safe.”
    Leslie drew in a breath, but Goldstein held up a hand. “You and I can’t see in the dark if our flashlights give out. There’s a moon out right now, but given the clouds in the sky, that could change. We are slower and more vulnerable than they are—and if this is the killing ground, then someone might be here to guard their latest victim.”
    Leslie pulled out her gun, checked to make sure it was loaded, and then put it back in her shoulder holster.
    “If you can manage without flashlights,” Charles told them, “it will help the rest of us keep our night vision. But don’t risk a broken ankle. I don’t know how well you can see—we wolves can see just fine in the dark; most witches have a trick or two—” He glanced at Beauclaire.
    The fae nodded. “I can see fine.”
    “So it’s upto you. If you use the flashlights, please try not to shine them in our eyes.”
    “I have a question,” said Leslie. “If you can see in the dark, why did Malcolm say he needed lights to find the island?”
    “Because I’m not taking a boat that has parts not working into waters that aren’t safe,” Malcolm said. “There are some pretty nasty places around here if you don’t know where you are, and her spell killed all of my instrumentation lights—GPS, depth finders,