Master of Smoke

Tristan.
    Unaware of his flash of jealousy, she continued, “Or at least, it wasn’t the same person whose mind I just touched. Warlock felt ... well, evil. And paranoid.”
    “Really? I never would have guessed,” Tristan drawled.
    She ignored him. “There was such chaos in his thoughts. I only touched him for a moment before he blasted me out of his mind like a feather in a leaf blower.” Raking her blond hair out of her eyes, Belle frowned. “Where did that pewter cat go?”
    Tristan glanced around before spotting it under a straight chair sitting at the opposite end of the room. “There it is.”
    He got it for her, and dropped it into her palms. She was sitting up again, her legs bent and crossed at the ankles, tailor fashion. She no longer looked quite so pale, much to his relief.
    “Thanks.” Belle eyed the cat thoughtfully. “I wonder if I could use it to break Warlock’s grip on those stolen abilities.”
    Tristan stiffened. “Only if you can avoid getting your skinny little butt blown across the room again. And somehow I doubt it.”
    “Skinny?” She snorted. “Hardly.” Scrambling to her feet, Belle erased the designs on the carpet with a sweeping gesture and a wave of magic, then started redrawing them again.
    Since her attention was now safely diverted, Tristan leaned a shoulder against the wall and closed his eyes in relief.
    That had been too damned close.

    David had disappeared.
    Her heart in her throat, Eva galloped down the stairs of the apartment complex, frantically scanning for him. Still nothing.
    Her mother spoke from the landing. “Oh, damn. I’m sorry I let out your cat. You want me to help you look for him?”
    Eva ground her teeth to keep from screaming, Just go! Instead she managed a relatively sane “Don’t worry about it, Mom. I’ll find him. You just go take Dad his prizes.”
    Charlotte sighed. “Yes, he’s probably going to be pawing at the ground by the time I arrive. I’ll see you later, darling.” Her heels clipped down the stairs.
    Eva gave her mother a wave, eyeing the shrubbery as Charlotte got in the car and drove off.
    “David!” she hissed when the coast was finally clear. “David, where the fuck did you go? Don’t do this to me! Somebody’s going to eat you!”
    Which was when she heard a sound that sent terror sliding down her spine on a river of ice: a growl. Low, rumbling, and savage.
    It was definitely not a house cat, and it was coming from the other side of the building.
    “Shit!” Eyes widening, Eva raced through the breezeway toward the sound. There was a strip of grass, a few spindly trees, and still more bushes between her building and the back of the next one.
    Right in the middle of all that stood a dog the size of a pony. It looked like a Great Dane with thick red fur, but the wind blowing past told a different story.
    It was a werewolf.
    Another snarl brought her head whipping around.
    A black Doberman eyed her with drooling malice, next to a German shepherd larger than any dog she’d ever seen. They were flanked by a muscular pit bull with a curly steel gray coat. All three were downwind, but Eva didn’t have to smell them to know they were werewolves. The vicious intelligence in their eyes told the story.
    Eva was changing before she was even consciously aware of calling her magic, pain exploding in her awareness as her body transformed. Damn you, David, she thought. I’m screwed now.

    David stared in horror from the shadow of one of the shrubs that stood against the building. Sable fur gleaming in the moonlight, Eva stepped back, her head swiveling frantically as she watched the four werewolves move closer.
    They transformed in a fur-ruffling rush of magic, each dog shooting upward and outward as it grew to full, powerful Dire Wolf form. If anything, they were even bigger than the werewolves he’d faced the last time.
    And David was much, much smaller.
    Magic, he thought desperately. I have to change. I have to defend her, or she’s dead.
    Panic soured his stomach, but he pushed it down. He couldn’t afford fear now. He had to be calm. He had to open a psychic path to Smoke, or at the very least to Cat.
    “Where’s your friend, bitch?” demanded a tall, red-furred werewolf who stepped out in front of the others. “We know he’s around here somewhere.” He made a show of sniffing the air. “I can smell the little fucker.”
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eva said, lifting her chin in a