Master of Smoke

strain, and panic rose. It’s going to destroy me!
    He realized he had only seconds before his mind shattered. Reaching for his magic—it answered with a pounding fire-hose force—Warlock wove a spell to contain those alien memories. The spell took hold with blessed speed, sealing away the banshee shriek of the Demigod’s life. He’d be able to access it, but only if he chose to.
    He slumped in relief, knowing he’d come within seconds of destruction.
    And then a new thought sent his fear shooting into an even higher spike: Where is Smoke?
    Warlock stared around wildly, looking for his enemy. The last he’d seen of the cat, Smoke had been sealed in the force globe Warlock had created to drain his powers.
    Yet somehow, the godling had outsmarted him. Instead of fighting the drain, Smoke had rammed the full force of his memory and power right down Warlock’s throat, damn near frying him in the process.
    And now the cat was nowhere to be seen.
    Well, Warlock would just have to find him. Smoke had no power now, nor any of that incredible wealth of experience. It should be a simple thing to find and kill him.
    Warlock shifted to four-legged form, the better to track his prey. He picked up Smoke’s scent at once and began following it across the lawn to the edge of the trees that bounded the yard.
    Where it blended with the scent of another Dire Wolf.
    Who dared? He snapped his jaws in rage, wanting to rend the werewolf into rags of torn flesh. Instead he wrestled his fury back under control, reminding himself that his existence was a secret from all but a handful of trustworthy Chosen aristocrats. No doubt this idiot thought he was protecting some poor human from a rogue werewolf.
    No, not he. She. He could tell as much from her scent. His lips drew back from his teeth. The little bitch would pay dearly for her error.
    Nose to the ground, he followed the scent through the trees to the yard beyond. The trail stopped on the edge of the road. Throwing back his head, Warlock howled in frustrated rage. The idiot wolf had put Smoke in a car and driven away!
    Perhaps he could track them with his strengthened powers ... He cast a spell with a flick of his mind and sent it questing after the Demigod.
    Nothing.
    He snarled. The Direkind were resistant to all magic, even his. Spells slid off them like water beading on an oiled griddle. Only he and his descendants did not have that ability; otherwise they would not be able to work spells. If this she-wolf was too close to Smoke, the aura of her power would block Warlock’s magic.
    No matter. The moment she left Smoke alone, Warlock would be able to pick up his magical scent.
    And then Smoke was a dead Demigod.

    Eva jerked the apartment door open to reveal a small boy standing on the other side. He was shirtless and barefoot, dressed only in a pair of flannel pants covered in tiny white ducks. Flinging himself against her thighs, he wailed out something, crying so hard she couldn’t understand a word.
    Eva dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around him, stroking the disordered white-blond silk of his hair. “Terry! Calm down and tell me what’s wrong, honey.”
    “Mommy!” A bruise covered one entire side of his small face. His bastard father had hit him again. Eva was seriously considering catching Ronnie Gordon in the parking lot some moonless night and showing him what it felt like to get beaten up. “Mommy’s sick! Daddy hit her in the head, and now she’s on the floor, and she’s not movin’!”
    Oh, yeah. Ronnie definitely needed quality time with a certain werewolf. As Fluffy put it, “With great power comes a great responsibility for asshole education.” Swallowing her rage, Eva forced a smile for the little boy. “It’s all right, Terry. We’ll take care of your mother.”
    She started to rise. Terry’s big blue eyes fell on David, and he cringed against her legs. “Who’s that?”
    “He’s just a friend, baby.” Eva stroked Terry’s head and looked at her houseguest. “This is likely to get very messy. You should probably stay here.”
    “I’m coming with you.” David peeled his lips back from his teeth. “I will take care of this ‘man,’ ”—she could hear the sarcastic quotes—“... while you deal with the boy’s mother.”
    “Eva!” Terry tugged at her sleeve to regain her attention. “Please! Mommy needs you!”
    “All right.” She lifted the boy into her arms, then looked over her shoulder at David. “Just try