Free Taking Back Sunday by Cristy Rey

When the Incarnate maneuvered between lanes, Angel jerked the wheel abruptly.
    Angel had long been growing restless. When they should have been rushing their target to complete their mission, Cyrus was slamming on the brakes. The sudden shift from urgency to delaying the hunt was aggravating. He wanted to go home to Alaska. He wanted to do something other than drive around on an endless survey of Goth clubs, interviewing people who might, or might not have any answers. Wasting away in a rental car while some woman, evil sorceress or not, went grocery shopping was wearing him down.
    “We’re not here as PIs, Cy. Our sole objective is to retrieve the Incarnate and turn her over to the Pastophori. The cult’s paying top-dollar for this.”
    Like Angel, and more than Angel could ever imagine, Cyrus was eager to take action. But the thought of retrieving Sunday and dumping her onto someone else brought a sour taste to his mouth. Angel’s proposal was one that he would have made a few days earlier. Even when he’d stalked around the Lair, his mouth watered for a bite of his prey. Knowing they were closer to her than they’d ever been only fueled his hunger. Then, he touched her and looked into her eyes. The unquenchable fires, the unrelenting thoughts of her, and the frustration of a long, fruitless hunt simply washed away.
    “It’s too soon,” Cyrus answered. “She’s working with a coven, and she’s far from running. We don’t have any data on her working with a coven prior to this, and we can’t walk into a situation that’s so uncertain.” He had to convince Angel that they needed more time because he needed more time. They hadn’t reached out to the pack yet, and he didn’t want to think of the wheels that would be set into motion if they had.
    “The Incarnate is here , Cy,” Angel challenged. His hands balled into fists around the steering wheel as his eyes focused ahead with increased intensity. “We should tag her and bag her before whatever she’s cooking gets out of hand.”
    Cyrus didn’t need to open a line of psychic connection to his packmate to know that Angel’s agitation was growing close to ripping the steering wheel out of the car.
    “We do that, and we walk in blind–”
    “Blind?!” Angel interjected hastily. “ Blind?! Are you warped? The bitch is gathering witches for some shit, and she’s been here long enough that we can only guess she’s been planning some big show.” His arm shot off the wheel, and he pointed to the car ahead of them.
    “That woman is the Incarnate,” he barked.
    Never before had Cyrus regretted taking a partner along for the hunt as he did then. Angel was a friend to him, but he was also a member of the pack. The pack was obligated to their client, the cult, to deliver a product, and the product was the woman he no longer desired to relinquish to another. A cold shiver shot up Cyrus’ spine. The Pastophori could do to her what the Northwest witch had done to her, or maybe worse. The pack wasn’t concerned with what the Pastophori wanted the Incarnate for, but Cyrus wasn’t operating under the pack’s orders anymore. Not until he could figure out what to do. All he knew was that he couldn’t turn her over.
    “I may not know as much about her as you do, but I know that, whatever her game, she’s dangerous, Cyrus. She just left an esbat . You said it yourself. She just sat there and let them do their thing. No one does that. She’s planning something, and she’s using those women.”
    Angel slapped the dash and glowered at his friend. Angel’s glare met Cyrus’, and recognizing that he had just aggressed upon a much more dominant wolf, he looked back at the road and forced himself to relax back into the driver’s seat.
    Minutes of silence had passed between them as Sunday pulled up to her house and parked her car. They stopped across the street and shut off their headlights. The pair sat quietly for a few moments. Angel cracked the window and lit