Gunmetal Magic: A Novel in the World of Kate Daniels

nothing about us telling the Pack what was going on. The Jackals had to be warned. I shifted shape, and Raphael and I ran into the night.
    We cut through the decrepit industrial district, moving at the shapeshifter equivalent of a canter. Ruins streamed by us, dark, inky black, like haunted wrecks of ancient ships. Gutted warehouses with steel beams thrusting out, vehicle shells, treacherous caves of concrete hiding hungry things with glowing eyes, born of magic and hungry for a burst of hot blood on their tongues. The beasts looked but didn’t venture close. They recognized us for what we were—predators, built to hunt, kill, and devour—and right now neither of us was in the mood to be merciful.
    The city ended and we ran along the crumbling highway. Here nature revolted, fueled by magic, and trees had grown with shocking speed, crowding the old road. We kept going, tireless, eating the miles like they were delicious bites. Wolves didn’t have a monopoly on marathon chases. We were hyenas. We could run forever.
    Raphael moved next to me, so graceful, so lethal, full of fierce beauty. It felt so right, running like this, guarding each other’s flank. Together we were a tiny pack…a mated couple. Should any threat cross our path, we’d rip into it together. I had forgotten what it felt like.
    The road brought us to a group of three oaks. Here a narrow trail branched from the main highway, barely wideenough for a single vehicle to pass. Blink and you would miss it. We turned onto it in unison.
    The path curled and twisted, veering through the woods.
    A wolf howl rose in the distance—a pure, beautiful note soaring to the clear skies. Another answered. The Keep sentries announcing our approach. A deep-voiced whoop followed, a warning and a declaration of ownership in one—a bouda must’ve been on duty tonight.
    We burst out of the woods into a clearing. A massive structure towered before us, the solid, impenetrable mass of stone shaped into a semblance of a fortified castle or castlelike fort. It was the ultimate den, wrapped into a wall of gray stone, with towers, defenses, a vast underground, and a myriad of hidden passageways and escape routes. A testament to Curran’s paranoia. Even if the Keep were besieged, even if the siege was lost, the Pack would melt into the woods to reunite and fight another day.
    We cleared the courtyard and kept running, through the door, through the narrow hallway, up a dozen of stair flights all the way to the top of the tower, to the floor just below Curran’s private quarters. The guard recognized us and stepped out of the way. Raphael was the male bouda alpha. He sat on the Council with Aunt B. Nobody would stop him.
    We rushed into the spacious room Curran called his office. The Beast Lord was sitting behind his desk, looking at some papers. Kate sat on the couch with a tortured look on her face, holding a copy of the book of Pack law and making notes in a notebook.
    They looked up in unison.
    “Clan Jackal is in danger,” I said.
    We sat in a conference room, both still in our fur, with the Beast Lord, Kate, Jim, and Colin and Geraldine Mather, the Jackal alphas. Colin, a muscular, beefy man with a wrestler’s build and pale hair, leaned on the table, his face flat and unreadable. His mate and wife sat next to him. Where Colin was fair, Geraldine was dark, her skin a deep brown, her hair black, her body honed to muscular efficiency by constant training.
    “Her name is Brandy Kerry,” Geraldine said. “She is seven years old. Her parents are on a business trip to Charlotte. They left her here in the Keep in the boarding school in the south wing. She took a nap at five o’clock with the rest of the children in her class. The room is on the seventh floor. The windows are barred. Ruth, the teaching aide, sat by the door, reading a book. At the end of the hour, she came in to wake the children and found Brandy’s bed empty. Ruth searched the room. None of the other seven kids saw anything. Brandy just evaporated from her bed and nobody had noticed.”
    “The rest of the staff searched the floor,” Colin continued. “Every room was checked, and to get to the staircase, she would’ve had to go past the school receptionist and a guard, and Connie swore she did not see a child leave. When it became evident that Brandy wasn’t anywhere on the school floor, we were alerted to the situation.”
    Of all the clans, Jackals were the most paranoid when it came to their