Page 116 of Amber Gambler

“For that to be true, she would have had to stay to the end, which means she saw Ankou. And you.” As I considered other angles, I kept stumbling over one. “She’s used to all kinds of paras. Your god aspect, it might have convinced her you were a crow shifter. But Ankou? She saw him and didn’t make a peep?”

Kierce’s god aspect was as beautifully peculiar as his other facets, but Ankou looked like someone had taken a potato peeler to his skin.

“You think she wasn’t surprised by his…god aspect?”

“Stay with Badb.” I pivoted on my heel. “I’m going back to get her.”

Only the clear line of sight convinced him to let me go, I was sure, but Little had answers that might keep Audrey alive. I could feel it. We had to secure her before she slipped away like the others.

“Hey, Little.” I waited for an answer but didn’t get one. “You in there?”

I could tell she was gone before I pushed the sign aside and verified it.

Harrow had climbed down from the tree and was busy keeping a wary distance from Kierce by the time I returned with the news Little had bolted on us. He kept his eyes to himself, never glancing anywhere in her vicinity. That was the smartest thing he had done the last twenty-four hours for sure. Much as I wished I could brush past him and head upstairs, I had to stay.

“You left Audrey behind and went on a stakeout without notifying anyone of your whereabouts.”

“I had Audrey hide a tracker in the sole of her shoe.” He pulled a twig from his hair. “I can locate her.”

“Are you serious?” That was news to me. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“My phone had trouble connecting to the tracker. Magical interference is my guess. I didn’t want to say I had a fix if it didn’t work. Then I got here and…” He made a vague gesture toward me. “Then Josie…” Another wave up the trunk of the tree. “This was the first opportunity I’ve had to share.”

“Have you told Carter?”

Before he could answer, her black truck appeared around the bend, barreling toward us.

“Do you want to come?” Harrow kept his head down. “It’s your case. It’ll be your collar.”

“I’m not a cop,” I told him then checked with Kierce. “Are you in or are you out?”

We might have struck a temporary truce with Harrow, but I wouldn’t force Kierce to share air with him if he wasn’t comfortable with Badb in close proximity to her maybe attacker.

Misty gray eyes drank me in. “You have to ask?”

“All aboard,” Carter called through the crack in her window.

Harrow trotted over, got up front next to Carter, and belted himself in.

“No,” I murmured, lost in Kierce’s gaze. “I don’t think I do.”

Sliding his fingers in mine, he tugged me into a jog to the truck, and we climbed onto the backseat.

“I’ve got a general area.” Harrow held his phone so Carter could see it too. “West Harris Street.”

Downtown Savannah. An area I tried to avoid at all costs because of the Society’s chokehold on the necromancers who lived there. This hunt was off to a great start.

One hand on the wheel, the other in a cheddar puff bag, Carter asked, “What’s on that street?”

“Bartow House, Sorrel–Weed House, Battersby Tenements, and a million other things.” He zoomed in as best as he could. “The dot hasn’t moved in the last two hours, per the timestamp on the program. I’ve had a visual on it for twenty minutes.” He panned more lenses that failed to divine an address. “It’s early enough for tours at the historic homes, which makes it unlikely she’s being kept in one.”

“Several have basements,” I pointed out, “but they’re often part of the tours.”

Most museums and homes had security or security cameras, which made those even less likely.

“West Harris runs along the northern edges of Pulaski, Madison, Lafayette, and Troup Squares.” Harrow angled his chin in my direction, but he didn’t make eye contact. “Anything worth checking there?”

A series of subterranean tunnels crisscrossed the city. Some led to the river, which gave rise to the locals claiming pirate captains once ordered their crews to carry drunken men through them and onto the ship to serve in times when their numbers were low. More than likely, they were used to transport slaves. As rampant as yellow fever had been during the 1800s, there were rumors aplenty that some tunnels were used to hide bodies from survivors to keep citizens in the dark about how bad things had gotten. The 1820 epidemic wiped out a tenth of Savannah’s population, so I could see why the powers that be at the time decided to conceal the truth to prevent mass hysteria.

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