Chapter Ten

Emmett waited. For the first few minutes, he just sat at his kitchen table, but the nervous energy proved to be too much to control, and he started cleaning instead. He was borderline militant about keeping things tidy, so he wasn't worried about Petra thinking his place was a mess; he just wanted her to like it, to feel comfortable there, and to let him do unspeakable things to her on every available surface. He managed to wait for a full half hour, scrubbing his benches until they were clean enough to perform surgery on, before he decided that something had definitely gone wrong. Had Petra decided she didn't want him after all? He'd seen the way her eyes shifted when she looked at him; he'd felt the passion of her kiss. Surely, she couldn't have changed her mind… could she? He picked up his phone to call her, wondering what he was going to say, but before he could pull up her contact, it rang in his hands, an unknown number on the screen.

"Hello?" he said.

"Emmett O'Neill?"

"Who is this?" he asked, wondering what telemarketer would be ringing at this time of night.

"My name's Francesca, I'm Petra's sister." Her voice sounded panicked, and immediately his hackles raised. "I think something's happened to her."

"What?" he demanded.

"I was on the phone with her," Francesca said, her voice coming fast and uneven. "And she was talking about being with you earlier tonight, and then there was this noise, and the call cut off. I tried to ring back, but she didn't answer, and she always answers. So, I drove to her place, and she's not here but the car door is open, and her phone and her keys are on the ground, and—Emmett, there's blood there too."

"I'm on my way," Emmett snapped, reaching for his own keys. "Have you called the cops?"

"I rang them first," Francesca said, clearly panicked. "But Petra said she was with you earlier, so I figured you might know something, plus, you're her mate, so I had to tell you. I got your number from her phone."

"Thank you," Emmett said breathlessly, climbing into his car faster than he'd ever moved in his life. "Francesca, I need you to stay on the phone with me, all right? Just tell me if anything changes. I'm going to get there as fast as I can, and I need you to be with me when I do. We can talk to the cops together, and they'll work out how to find her. She's going to be fine." He repeated the affirmation in his head as he put his foot to the floor and started to drive as fast as he physically could.

"Do you need the address?" Francesca asked.

"I know it," Emmett said. "I live just over in Blue Crescent territory, so I'll be there in a few minutes. Can you tell me what you can see right now?"

Francesca heaved in a deep breath, but when she spoke, she sounded slightly calmer than she had when he answered the phone. "Okay, her car is parked where it usually is. The driver's door is open—why would she leave it open?"

"Don't worry about that, Francesca," Emmett said, speeding through a yellow light. "Just tell me what you can see."

"Okay, so the door is open," Francesca took another deep breath. "You know how she parks, right?"

"I've seen it," Emmett confirmed, focusing on not dying in a car accident as he weaved through traffic.

"So, the car door and the house door aren't far apart," Francesca said, tears starting to become audible in her voice. "But in the space between them, on the ground, there's her phone and next to it, her keys, and then next to them there's a smear of blood on the ground."

"You're sure it's blood?" Emmett asked, speeding into Apex River territory.

"I'm a werewolf," Francesca said. The disbelieving question had the effect Emmett intended, removing the sound of tears from her voice. "I can smell that it's blood."

"That's good information to have," Emmett said. He turned a corner faster than he intended and his back wheels skidded out. He turned into Petra's street and squealed to a stop outside her house. "I'm here," he told Francesca and hung up.

Petra's sister looked a lot like his mate, just with shorter hair. She was standing close to Petra's car with its open driver's door, but turned at the sound of his arrival and all but ran over. "What the hell is going on?" she said.

"I don't know," Emmett said, the fear now swelling in him as the scent of blood reached him. "She was just coming home to get clothes and things to stay the night at my place."

"She was staying the night at—" Francesca started but caught herself. "Okay, not the time. Gods, I am going to interrogate the shit out of her when we get her back." Tears bloomed in her eyes again, and Emmett wondered whether it would be inappropriate to offer her a hug. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, relieved at the sound of sirens wailing.

"It's going to be all right," he said, as much for himself as for her if he was being honest, and she took the hugging decision away from him as she collapsed against him and let out a sob.

"Someone's hurt her," Francesca cried against his shirt. "Someone's hurt Petra and I don't know where she is."

The police car pulled up in front of Emmett's own vehicle and two officers were standing with them before Emmett could do more than rub circles on Francesca's back.

"I'm Sergeant Quincy," the taller of the two introduced himself. He was clearly a warlock; magic was as much a part of his appearance as his dark hair. He gestured to his companion, who had the pale, thin look of a vampire. "This is Officer Lam. What's going on?"

"Francesca?" Emmett said to the woman still trying to control her tears against his chest. "Why don't you tell them what you found?"

It took her a moment to calm down, but she was able to describe what happened, from speaking to Petra up to calling Emmett, with the cops taking notes as she spoke. The two officers looked at each other, and Quincy quietly said to Lam, "Call it in. Now." He turned back to Francesca. "All right, tell me about your sister. Is there anyone you can think of who would want to hurt her?"

"No one," Francesca insisted. "Petra's a good person, she's reliable. She never did anything that would piss someone off and make them want to kidnap her; that's insane. She works for the Youth and Community Department, for gods' sake."

Lam returned to their small gathering, and the two officers seemed to communicate something without speaking a word.

"All right," Quincy said. "We're going to need to get people to go over this area, both physically and with magic, and the two of you should come with us to the station. We'll need to have a longer discussion just in case it gives us any clues that can help us find Petra." Francesca immediately grabbed on to Emmett's arm as her eyes began tearing up once more, and the officer continued, "We're going to do everything we can to work out where she is. Everything we can, and your help will be invaluable."

"Come on," Emmett said, fighting to tamp down the panic that was rising in his chest. "I can drive us there if you like."

"I'm okay," Francesca said, clearly forcing herself to breathe deeply. "Just give me a second, and I can drive. I'll meet you there." She walked to her car and Emmett could see her hands shaking as she got out her keys. There wasn't anything he could do to stop her driving, though, so he fished out his own keys and went to walk to his own car.

The warlock stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Petra Dalman is your mate?" he asked.

Emmett gave a curt nod.

"I'm Avalon coven. I know Della Greenbranch. I know what happened when she and her werewolf mate found each other. We're going to do everything we can, Mr. O'Neill."

"I know," Emmett said. "But forgive me if I don't exactly calm down until we work out what the fuck has happened to her and why a woman who works for Youth and Community would be assaulted and kidnapped outside her own home."

"Understood," the officer said smoothly, inclining his head. He didn't even seem phased by Emmett's barely controlled panic. "I'll see you at the station."

* * *

Petra woke up slowly, fading in and out of what felt like consciousness. She wouldn't even have realized it was happening if the figures around her hadn't been in different places each time she opened her eyes. She was lying on something, crumpled like a fabric doll tossed aside, and there were people around her. Sometimes more, sometimes fewer. It was so dark, she could barely see them; she was aware of them more as silhouettes than actual figures.

Her hands were bound together, and when she tried to move her feet, she found that her ankles were too. Her head was throbbing—had she been in a car accident or something? If she'd been in an accident, why were her hands and feet restrained?

Just trying to think made her brain hurt more, so she let herself slide once more into a deeper, softer, painless darkness.

* * *

The police station had seemed stark to begin with, and it looked even more bare and unwelcoming after several hours, regardless of the kindness that the staff had shown to Emmett and Francesca. They'd been in this room for what felt like days, occasionally separating into the adjacent room when the cops wanted to discuss things with one of them at a time. The situation seemed to have put the officers on high alert, which was exactly what Emmett wanted, but as far as he was aware, very little progress was actually being made. He thanked the gods that, with the right cohort of supernaturals, police units in Mystic City were effectively operational twenty-four hours a day. He didn't know what he'd have done if they'd told him he had to wait until morning before they could do anything.

They'd confirmed that the blood was Petra's, and Francesca had tried to let her Alpha know that her sister was in trouble, following pack protocol, but seeing as it was the middle of the night, she couldn't get on to him. Eventually, utterly exhausted, Francesca had put her head down on the table in the middle of the room and gone to sleep. Although he should have been completely worn out too, Emmett found that every time he tried to close his eyes and relax, something throbbed through him that brought him back to full wakefulness. It took hours for him to realize that the bond, that ephemeral link between him and Petra that seemed to be wrapped tight around his heart and lungs, was pulsing every so often, and a wave of fear that he could barely contain rolled through him like a tsunami. Was something happening to her? What else could this mean? He tried to explain it to one of the officers who was checking in on them, but putting it into words was almost impossible, and the man seemed to have the same opinion that Emmett once did about the legitimacy of werewolf mate bonds.

"Can I speak to a werewolf about this, please?" he asked after his third attempt to explain what he was feeling. "Preferably one with a mate. They're the only ones who will understand."

"A mate?" the officer asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Emmett just looked at him without responding.

With a brief side-eyed look, he shrugged and said he'd try to find someone who fit the bill. It was almost another two hours—and another gut-wrenching pulse through the bond—before an older female wolf knocked quietly on the door. "You asked to speak to a werewolf?" she said quietly, noting Francesca, asleep with her head on her arms on the table.

Emmett stepped out of the room and closed the door behind himself. "You're mated?" he asked, knowing this was a very personal question.

"For almost twenty years now," the female wolf confirmed. "Detective Caroline Jacobson. What can I do for you?"

"Emmett O'Neill," Emmett said, though she probably already knew that. "What I'm wondering is… Do you ever get, I don't know, feelings through your bond?"

"Only the very intense ones," Caroline said. "If my partner is feeling something very strongly, sometimes—not always—a bit of it comes through to me. You learn to recognize the feelings that aren't your own as originating from your bond, though it can be a bit disconcerting in the beginning. Is that what you're getting?"

"Just these… kind of pulses of energy," Emmett said. "Hearing you describe it, I think there are other things mixed in with it, but it's so much like what I'm feeling already that I didn't realize they weren't mine to begin with. Fear and distress, and I think maybe some pain—I thought I just had a headache, but it comes and goes with the energy bursts, so could it be coming from Petra? Does this mean she's in pain?"

"They found blood at the scene," Caroline said, in what was clearly meant to be a calming tone despite the content of her words. "We know that it's hers, which means she's probably injured in some way. But if you're not getting continuous pain or steady increases through the bond, it's unlikely that she's being purposely hurt more than that."

"Was that an option?" Emmett all but shouted, his wolf immediately frantic. "Do you think that's likely?"

"It's just good to rule it out," Caroline said, as though that answered all his questions. "Look, I understand what you're going through."

"Oh, you do?" Emmett snapped. "You've lived through your mate being kidnapped and not being able to do anything about it?"

"Stay calm, Mr. O'Neill," she replied sharply, reminding him that he was speaking to a police officer. "I'm not the enemy here."

"All right," he managed, taking a deep breath. "Just tell me what I can do to help, please. I can't stand all this sitting around when Petra is in danger."

"I'll be the first to tell you if there's anything you can do," Caroline promised.

When Emmett went back into the room, it was with a strong sense of being in prison. He copied Francesca and put his head down on his arms on the desk, wondering if this time he wouldn't get a pulse of energy from Petra—which meant what, that she was waking up and feeling the pain of her injury? That she was being repeatedly tasered? Something in between? And yet, he couldn't do anything about it, and he was just supposed to live with that and not go insane over his both human and wolf sides screaming at him to do something to save her?

Sleep came slowly, but as he fell into darkness, he had a sense of Petra beside him.

"Emmett," she whispered. "Emmett, I need you. It's dark here. There are people, but they're just watching me. Emmett, I'm scared."

"Petra," he said. He couldn't lift his head, but he needed to touch her. He tried to take her hand, but his fingers slid through her like she was made of smoke. "Petra, where are you?"

"I don't know," she said. She sounded so scared, he would have given anything to be able to wrap his arms around her and hold her, give her the comfort of his protection. "Follow the bond, Emmett. You can find me if you follow the bond."

* * *

Petra woke again, this time with a sense of her body, because someone was moving it. Her head was still throbbing; her hands and feet were both numb. She couldn't see—why couldn't she see? She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, as though that might help, and realized there was some kind of blindfold tied around her head. What didn't they want her to see? Where the hell was she?

Someone was lifting her up, and then she was lying on—what? A table? An altar? Had she been brought here as some kind of ritual sacrifice? No one did those anymore; it had been illegal since before Mystic City's founding. But then, she was lying in the dark, surrounded by people, brought here after being hit on the head so hard, she'd lost consciousness. Human—or at least, werewolf—sacrifice was not entirely impossible when she thought about it.

She shoved down the wave of terror that rolled over her, trying to control her racing breathing. She'd been on the phone to Francesca. Francesca would come and check what was wrong. Francesca would call the police when she found that Petra was missing.

What about Emmett? He would have been waiting for her to arrive at his house. Would he have come to where she was supposed to be, only to find her absent? He'd be frantic, the protectiveness of a werewolf amplified by their mate bond. She had to get back to Emmett.

She tensed her muscles and reached for the wolf that lived beneath her skin, tried to shift into her other form, but nothing happened. Why couldn't she shift? She needed to—she wasn't anything like as good a fighter in this form.

Wolfsbane.

It had to be wolfsbane—it was one of the only things that could stop a werewolf shifting if you gave them the right dose. Of course, if you exceeded the correct dose, it would just kill the wolf in question, slowly and painfully. How much had they given her?

"I think she's coming awake," a voice close by said.

"Well, that's easily dealt with," replied another, and there was a sharp pain in her arm, followed by nothingness.

* * *

He woke up with a start when someone opened the door into their room. Next to him, Francesca was also lifting her head off the table.

"Sorry to keep you for so long." It was Sergeant Quincy, looking like he'd had even less sleep than Emmett. "You can go home now."

"Have you found anything?" Francesca demanded.

"Because we have her blood, we'll be able to do a locator spell once we have all the necessary items. It has to be done under the moon, though, so we'll have to wait until tonight."

"Tonight?" Emmett snapped. "You have no idea what's being done to her, and you're waiting until tonight to work out where she is? Why the hell didn't it happen last night?"

"We didn't have the materials, and we couldn't get them outside of business hours," Quincy said, calm in the face of Emmett's rage. "We'll keep you posted when we know more."

"You're the police!" Emmett all but shouted. "How did you not have the materials for a locator spell? Do you not deal with missing people?"

The warlock looked down his nose at Emmett like he was surveying a squashed bug. "I don't expect you to understand the magic side of it, sir, but I do expect you to be civil if you'd like to be included in the process."

"All right," Emmett managed, trying to rein in his rage. Clearly, he'd just put himself on the bad side of the exhausted sergeant. "All right, just please, let me know when you know anything. I need to get her back."

"You'll be contacted when we have more information," Quincy said. "Until then, we need you to let us do our job."

Francesca put her hand on Emmett's back, and the two of them collected what meagre belongings they'd brought and left the station. When they were standing by their cars, Francesca asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," Emmett said honestly. "But I can't do nothing. I had this dream… Petra was there. She told me if I follow the bond between us, I'll be able to find her."

"Follow the bond?" Francesca echoed. "How do you do that?"

"I don't know," Emmett replied. "Right now, it's quiet, silent almost—like she's asleep or something. But earlier, I was getting these bursts of energy through it, and I started thinking, maybe that's when she's waking up from being knocked out. When she wakes up again, maybe it'll be able to lead me to wherever she is."

"All right, count me in," Francesca said without hesitation. "What do we need?"

They went to Leo's place, knowing he would more than likely be home with Della. Which was convenient, since Emmett needed to talk to both of them, since they were the only other mated pair he knew.

Leo answered the door. "Emmett. You know sports night isn't until nighttime, right? It's barely eight in the morning."

"Petra's missing," Emmett said without preamble. "They found blood outside the door to her house. I need to talk to you about the mate bond."

Leo blinked several times, then stepped back from the door to allow them entry. "You'd better come in, then. I'll get Della." He extended a hand to Francesca. "I'm Leo."

"The new Blue Crescent Alpha, I know. I'm Francesca, Petra's sister," she introduced herself. "I was on the phone with her when she… when whatever happened, happened. We've been at the police station all night."

Leo led them into the kitchen, and Della appeared a moment later. Emmett explained again what had brought them there, and his theory about feeling Petra through the bond, describing what the detective at the police station had explained about her bond to her own mate.

"That actually explains a bit," Leo said, looking at Della. "Doesn't it?"

"No one tells you about this stuff until you experience it," Della said. "All right, so we're thinking once Petra wakes up, you'll be able to feel her because she's experiencing such extreme emotions, and you'll be able to use your bond to work out where she is. Have you ever located her using the bond before?"

"Well, no," Emmett admitted. "But they're not going to be able to do the locator spell until tonight, because it has to be done under the moon, and I can't wait that long. We don't know who has her or what they're doing to her. We don't know if she's safe."

"But we have to wait for her to wake up," Della pointed out.

"I'll call Raj," Leo said. "We'll need to be prepared to fight if we're going to do this."

"Shouldn't we just tell the cops when we know where she is?" Francesca asked. "They're already going to be looking for her."

"The cops," Emmett said, "most of whom don't believe in mate bonds, who will want to wait to confirm it with their locator spell after dark before they do anything?"

"I guess that's a fair point," Francesca conceded and looked around at the rest of them. "All right, what else will we need? We want to be ready to go the moment Emmett feels something through the bond."

Leo looked between Francesca and Della. "Maybe it would be better if—"

"Leo Tyler," Della interrupted. "You had better not be about to suggest that we stay home just because we're women."

Leo swallowed. "Well…"

"I won your gods-damned Alpha fight," Della reminded him. "You really think I wouldn't be useful to have on a hunt where we don't know what we'll be up against?"

Leo took her hand. "You're not even back at work yet, and you want me to let you go up against who-knows-what?"

"If you think you're letting me do anything, we're going to need to have a serious discussion," Della said sharply.

"She has a point, man," Emmett added. "You can't say it wouldn't be useful to have a powerful witch on our side."

Leo, clearly biting his tongue, turned his attention to Francesca. "Can you fight?"

"I teach some of the classes for my pack," Francesca said. "I can fight."

"I'll… go and call Raj then," Leo said, obviously realizing he wasn't going to get anywhere by trying to prevent the females from coming with them, and equally obviously not happy about it. "But I swear, if either of you gets yourselves hurt—"

"Yeah, yeah, you'll say I told you so," Della said with a smile, kissing him on the cheek.

"I can't stay back when it's my sister in danger," Francesca said softly. "She'd do it for me. I have to help find her."

Emmett had never paid as much attention to the bond as he did over the next few hours. Every shift and whisper that came down it, he wondered if he should be reporting to the group. Della made coffee and Leo cooked a massive breakfast because he insisted that they could all use the energy. Raj arrived in workout clothes, sporting a half-healed black eye which, when asked, he explained was due to a lapse of attention in one of the training sessions that he ran. His friend's appearance made Emmett aware he was still dressed as he had been for his not-a-date the night before, though looking a fair bit more disheveled. He flagged to the others that he was going to get changed and made the short trip to his own house in a rush. He wanted to be around the group when he felt something usable in the bond.

He was just pulling back into Leo's driveway when a wave of some unholy mixture of energy and terror rolled through him. It took him a second to try to focus on the bond, rather than the roiling panic, but he gripped the steering wheel so hard that it creaked and focused on Petra. Petra, whose smile lit up his chest and who dedicated so much to trying to make other people's lives better. Petra, with her soft, gentle hands that knitted blankets in her free time for people living without. Petra, who was so afraid right now that it was blasting down the bond toward him… down the bond… the bond… He felt it like it was dragging him toward her, and wondered how he ever could have missed it. Shoving down the fear, he fixed his mind on the pull deep inside himself, and he knew. If not where she was, at least which way they should go.

He burst into the kitchen like a man possessed. "I've got it. We have to go. I don't know how long this is going to last. We have to go now."

* * *

When Petra reawakened, it was like a burst of adrenaline had just been shot straight into her veins. Her heart was already pounding, and it was like the fear had been there just waiting for her to regain consciousness, rolling through her in a wave. She fought to remain still, reasoning that if they didn't realize she was conscious, no one would repeat what she was pretty sure had been an injection that put her to sleep.

"We know you're awake, Miss Dalman," came a familiar voice. Why did she know that voice?

"You might as well take off the blindfold, Cyrus," someone else said. "It was a foolish affectation to begin with. It's not like it matters what she sees."

Cyrus. She knew that name. When the fabric covering her eyes was pulled away and left her blinking in the candlelight, at first all she could take in was that she was in some kind of cavern, surrounded by figures dressed incongruously in regular clothing, like an updated version of an ancient satanic ritual. Then she focused on the figure before her, and she recognised the owner of the first voice.

"You," she gasped. "You met with me. You said you thought you could get more vampire covens interested in the afterschool programs."

The vampire still holding the strip of fabric that had been tied over her eyes surveyed her, his lip curling. He—Cyrus—had the appearance of a suburban dad, hairline starting to recede, the slightest of pot bellies. He was even dressed for it, in a polo shirt and jeans. At their meeting, Petra had found herself automatically warming to him, just from his kindly attitude. Which had clearly been a mask, because he currently had her tied up and dosed with wolfsbane.

"And you believed me, you stupid mutt," said the fatherly-looking Cyrus, clearly disgusted. "Why would we want anything to do with your ideas of integration?" He said integration like it was a swear word, his hands curled into fists.

"All this is because of the afterschool programs?" Petra asked, shocked. "You know you don't have to be involved. It's not compulsory. We were just feeling out different groups of supernaturals, and the humans—"

"Ah yes, the humans," interrupted the other voice, and Petra's attention was drawn to the figure immediately behind Cyrus—another vampire, this one lounging casually against the wall of the cave. He looked young, though, of course, that didn't mean much when it came to vampires, and was dressed like one of the interns who came through her office every so often. His eyes, though… those eyes were old. Old and cruel, and fixed on her with laser precision.

"The humans are a large part of this integration project you have in the works," the young-looking vampire continued. "Humans, mixing with supernaturals as though they were our equals. These programs you have in the works, designed to bring all the inhabitants of Mystic City together to learn about each other, so they do not grow up fearing those who are unlike them." His tone was mocking, as though the very concept was hilarious.

"How does that lead to me being tied up on a table in a cave?" Petra asked, hearing the panic in her voice.

The young-looking vampire rose to his feet and stalked closer. Cyrus moved out of his way deferentially. When he was looming over her, the intern-looking vampire spoke again. "Because they should be afraid of us, you idiot child. Humans are not the equal of supernaturals, and they never will be. They are food. We should be hunting them, not integrating with them. The only use they have in the world is as servants, and to provide blood."

"You drink from humans?" She said the words so softly, they were almost inaudible to her own ears, but the vampire's advanced hearing clearly caught them.

He laughed. "Did you think that all vampires were like those who get their sustenance from the blood banks, or drink that disgusting synthetic approximation? Did you think there were no true traditionalists left, forced to live in the shadows, in the bowels of this city, until we come out to find something… delicious?"

"Erasmus, do you think you should be telling her this much?" one of the other vampires asked.

"Why would it matter?" the vampire before her asked, surveying Petra with a savage smile that displayed his extended fangs. "After all, it's not like she's ever going to leave this place. What can she do, come back as a ghost and tell her Beta boyfriend?"

"It's not even my project!" Petra blurted frantically. "I'm just helping with it at the moment. What do you think taking me is going to do?"

"'It's not my project,' she says, as though that makes her innocent," Erasmus said, looking down at Petra with undisguised loathing. "The werewolf bitch who can't even keep a territory dispute in her own species. Who called in a group of witches to defend her border against invasion? You are a disgusting example of how far this aberrant belief in integration and cross-species interference has gone, Petra Dalman, and I will not permit your spurious views to exist in my city, converting others to your deviant way of thinking."

"I'm not the deviant here!" she cried. "It's you who has these—these twisted beliefs. You think killing me is going to make everyone think that it's okay for you to go out and hunt humans? You think killing me is going to stop all our different species integrating?"

"Of course not," Erasmus said, switching from repulsed to calm in the space of a bare moment. When he was composed, he looked almost distressingly like one of the students who came through Youth and Community to get experience in a government department. "But transgressions must be punished, Petra Dalman, and you of all creatures clearly deserve this punishment." He turned to one of the other vampires encircling her. "Give her the rest of the wolfsbane. I may not be able to drink from her, but I'm going to enjoy her death." His eyes met Petra's once more. "Extensively."