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walked back out to his car, seemingly unbothered by the pelting sleet and freezing temperatures. “I’ll pick you up at six,” he called back.
    I watched his taillights fade as he drove away. I looked at my watch and tried to estimate how far I could track and still get back in time to get ready for dinner. Far enough to know the next steps I’d need to take at least.
    I turned to go back inside but the wind shifted and I stopped in my tracks. There was something in the air—a bitter smell of sweat and blood that clung to the body after a night of hunting. It looked like the killers had found me after all.

Chapter Four
    I lifted my nose a little higher, hoping to get another whiff. The atmosphere was thick with ozone, and lightning raced horizontally across the sky. Mist crept in slowly, building in white waves so the ground below it was invisible to the eye. The rain fell harder, almost as if it were a sign of bad things to come. And then the mist grew thicker, taking the shape of a man—a mist dragon. I’d never seen one before, only heard the stories passed down through the generations.
    He appeared to my left and wasn’t large, maybe a few inches taller than me, but he was thick across the shoulders and chest—built like a brawler. His jeans were old and torn, his white T-shirt ragged and stained with blood. He gave me a feral grin as he stopped at the edge of the garden path.
    I answered his smile with one of my own and leaned against one of the stone arches, enjoying the theatrics. His smile dimmed a little when he saw I wasn’t as afraid of him as he’d hoped I’d be. I held the weapon I’d brought out with me in my left hand so it was hidden behind the railing.
    It wasn’t long before the others appeared out of the trees and joined the first. There were five in all. Maybe half of the original group who’d attacked the woman last night. I recognized their scent. There had been others with this group when they’d killed the woman, but those Drakán had moved on.
    I was looking specifically for one of my own clansmen. Each clan had a unique scent—ours smelled of clean rain and damp forest—and I’d recognized it immediately around Jillian’s body. It was the reason I’d been able to see Jillian’s death in my vision, even though she was from a different clan. I’d kept that information from Cal.
    There was only one female in this group, but she was the one I focused on. I’d seen a little girl once holding a doll with blonde curly hair, blue eyes and rosy cheeks—the porcelain of her complexion so pale and flawless it seemed as if even the slightest touch would cause her to shatter. That’s what this woman reminded me of.
    Sapphires the color of the deepest part of the ocean were embedded in her human skin—up her arms and across her collarbone—and a single winking jewel glittered above her left eyebrow like a beauty mark. This only happened to those dragons who slept on top of their hoard in human form. It’s why we were never able to wear jewelry—our human forms absorbed the jewels. It was just another way for us to keep our treasures close.
    The female hoarder stood in the center of the group, slightly in front. Two other males—one as dark as onyx, the other as pale as buttermilk—flanked her left side. Their power was minimal. The last male was almost as old as the female. But not quite. The only difference was his clothes were pristine, his face calm, while dried blood and mud covered the others. This male stood in the rain eerily still, his dark hair plastered around his face and his eyes knowing. He gave me a slight bow with his head, and it was then I knew he had psychic abilities—pitiful as they were. He was practically an open book. But I could use him.
    It was situations like this one where I thought our laws kind of sucked. I couldn’t kill them just because I knew they’d killed one of our own. Legally, I had to file a warrant with the Council and wait for it to go