Page 71 of Gone Hunting

“Mimi,” I rumble. “Don’t take her from me. There has to be another way!”

But Mimi is gone. There’s nothing left of her but the white nightgown she wore and the spilled contents of the healing tea seeping from the shattered cup on the floor.

Something hideous bashes against the roof as Mom and Dad race back inside, their wolf forms panting hard from the fight . . . and from the poison eating through their flesh.

The skinwalker throws himself against the protection spells surrounding the house, screeching in a way that jolts the walls. Dad manages to roll the metal shutter down with his fangs.

Neither the door nor the spells will hold for long. I know it. Just as I know my parents don’t have long to live.

White light soars from the circle, encasing Celia and bleaching her features. I throw myself against it, pounding on the ward created by the light.

“Celia!” I holler. “Celia!”

The strong arms of my father grab me, pulling me back. I lunge forward, breaking away from him and smashing through the ward. I snatch Celia’s hands as she begins to disappear, my rage-filled tears making it hard to see.

Evil wasn’t meant to awaken like this.

Death was not supposed to claim my friends and family.

It was the worst time to fall in love. But I did.

And it was worth everyfuckingmoment.

But now, to save us all, I have to let the one being who shares my soul go.

No matter how much it destroys me.

“I’ll find you,” I tell Celia. “I swear, my wolf will stay with you and we will find a way.”

I haul her to me, kissing her one last time before she fades away and all that’s left is darkness.

Chapter Nineteen

I hop downstairs. I don’t mean I take the steps one by one, or even three at a time. I mean hop over the railing and leap from the second floor to the first, landing almost silently in a crouch, the backpack on my shoulders barely brushing against my spine.

“Aric,” Mom calls, turning away from the stove. “You’re awere, not an animal. Take the stairs as you’re supposed to.”

“Sorry, Mom.” I look around, noting breakfast is almost ready. “Where’s Dad?”

“He said he had something to do outside.” Mom brings a few dishes over. “Don’t even think about it,” she says when she sees me eyeing the bacon.

Dad chuckles as he walks into the house, pocketing the Swiss Army knife he’s carrying into his jeans. He reaches for Mom, holding her close, but his attention is on me. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” I say. I wait just long enough for Dad to sit before attacking the bacon.

“Good,” he says.

My knife slices into the butter when Mom drops several pancakes on my plate. The scent of cheese, carefully diced onions, and minced garlic seeps into my nose in a mouth-watering sweep when she returns with the eggs. The moment the first scoop lands on my plate, I dig in.

Dad hoists Mom onto his lap. “Eat with me,” he tells her. “You’re doing too much.”

Mom kisses his cheek and places the pan on the table, but instead of letting Dad feed her, she wraps her arms around his neck. Her shoulder length white hair brushes against his chest and her eyes close with longing.

“You’re hunting again, aren’t you?” I ask.

Dad smiles softly at Mom when she cuddles closer, stroking her hair until she opens her eyes. She doesn’t return his smile. It bothers me to see her so upset. “What’s going on?” I ask.

“There’s a dark witch causing trouble in Lesotho,” Dad replies, continuing his slow caress of Mom’s hair.

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