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approve of my hunts any more than he approved of my leaving the colony. I'd passed from his guardianship to my grandmother's, still deemed a traitorous child in his eyes. He'd never spoken the words aloud, but the hardness in his eyes had been condemnation enough. No progeny of the Alpha should, or would, desert the sanctity of their Alpha family, especially not to live among the Humans.
    But I'd kicked wraith-butt night after night, without the help of my judgmental father. I refused to allow him to affect my concentration, not when my life depended on my own reflexes.
    I scanned the silent hall. My frantic gasps seemed loud enough to rouse the dead, but it wasn't the dead I feared. Clem, the super, would be just down the hall, and I'd prefer not to disturb the man. He was creepy enough in the day time. Besides, how would I explain my bullet wound to the cantankerous codger, or what I was doing here so late at night?
    I flipped my wrist and checked my watch: just after eleven. A siren wailed in the distance. A car door thunked in response, an engine revved viciously, and tires screeched as the sedan sped away.
    In spite of my grip on the wall, the world around me—hall, walls and all—spun drunkenly. Was I passing out from the pain, from lack of blood? Or was my Panther emerging while my body flailed about in agony, unable to fend her off?
    It didn't matter.
    I'd rested plenty, and had not much farther to go—only one flight of stairs. Take one riser at a time. And don't forget to breathe.
    Each step up made my head lighter. At the landing, I hung a left and shoved a key into a lock for the second time in a handful of minutes. The state of my hands and my heartbeat remained unchanged. So did the cold bite of the bullet wedged in my shoulder. Thank Ailuros it was steel and not silver. Though silver wouldn't kill me, the metal had the power to hamper a Walker's healing process.
    Something to be said for small mercies, then.
    I was strong, and hard. Had to be. Nobody would come charging to my rescue. My father?
    Keep dreaming, Odel.
    My brother, Iain, had submerged his head so deep in Clan work only my blood-drenched corpse would warrant his attention. Given my current condition, I could be seeing Iain soon enough. And Grandma Ivy? Well, she was off on some jaunt in the Sahara or some African desert region. Very mysterious stuff. She'd made me promise not to tell my father she was more of an absent guardian than he'd ever been. Seemed even his mother would rather avoid confrontation with him, so who was I to complain?
    I crashed into the office and shut the door, sending a prayer to Ailuros to hold Clem in slumber a little longer. I leaned against the clouded glass window, taking a few deep breaths before maneuvering the gauntlet of chairs set up for the next morning's group session.
    I stumbled to the closet a few feet to the right of the desk. These last few minutes had felt like days of agony and fear. My breath still came in hysterical hiccups. Where had the cool, calm wraith hunter gone?
    Things changed when hunter became prey.
    My fingers closed over the knob of the closet door as another wave of dizziness hit. This time it laced my throat with bitter bile. Hidden in the closet, in a hidey-hole behind a wall of shelves filled with detergents and stationery, were my weapons and ammunition, spare clothing, first aid stuff, anything I may need after my hunts. I'd constructed it and hidden it so well. Thankfully neither Clancy nor even the cleaners had noticed it.
    The shelves loomed around me, as I pushed my way into the secret space behind them and collapsed on the floor, nearly comatose with pain. Even sitting down with my back to the wall, the world still tilted and turned. I swallowed hard. It felt as if I'd swallowed my tongue.
    Just one more thing I had to do before I gave in to unconscious bliss.
    I felt around in the bottom of my backpack for my mobile phone, not daring to remove my head from against the wall.