Free Charles (Darkness #8) by K.F. Breene Page B

in thought as he scanned the ground. A smallish paw print etched the dirt lightly. It could’ve been a dog. It could’ve been a shifter.
    “Sounds unlikely.”
    “Yes. It does. Yet, every time you take a deep breath, you get all… hazy-eyed.” Charles stalked closer silently, monitoring the ground for traps or pitfalls. His magic coated the ground in front of him, sensing for magic or anything out of the ordinary.
    Fifty yards along, he finally caught a glimpse of what they were after. He pulled out his phone as Ann bumped into him. She stumbled beside him and sat down roughly, staring with a confused expression.
    Warning bled into Charles. “What’s wrong?” He rested a hand on her shoulder.
    She barely acknowledged his touch. “I don’t know. I’m just… light-headed. That smell .”
    “Stay put, then, okay? I’m going to go a bit closer. If something happens, run back to the cabin and call for backup. Don’t try to help.”
    “Don’t think I could help. I don’t know what’s happening to me, Charles.” Her voice had become a plea for help. “I feel… really good. But… like I’m not in my body. Maybe it’s an airborne drug or something. Like a gas that’s aimed to affect shifters.”
    “Probably.” Charles brushed her hair back from her face, feeling his chest pinch at the sight of her glassy stare, almost devoid of the sharp intelligence he was used to seeing in her eyes. “Okay, just stay put. I’m going to get a few pictures.”
    “’Kay.”
    Uncomfortable with leaving her alone, but seeing no alternative, Charles snuck closer to the fence, keeping his magic wrapped firmly around him. He would be mostly masked from humans with the shadows clinging to his body, and also from uneducated shifters. Tim’s crew could pick up Charles’ kind, even deep in the shadows, but they relied more on their senses than eyes. Unsuspecting shifters probably wouldn’t.
    Hopefully wouldn’t.
    He approached the fence, snapping off pictures with his phone, though he had no service. He’d have to call the Boss from the cabin.
    The fence was a standard affair, about eight feet tall with barbed wire curled along the top. Signs every so often promised electrocution if someone touched the shiny metal. On the other side, loose dirt covered a large open area with a plethora of dog or shifter tracks. A few feet away lay a loose cluster of, what he assumed, was dog poop. He was pretty sure shifters used toilets, no matter what Jonas claimed. He caught whiffs of urine, no doubt from the same animals that patrolled, marking their territory.
    Another fifty yards away stood the side of a single-story building, dotted with windows, and a single door to the right. The structure had no embellishments of architectural design; it was a solid, concrete building dominating the natural landscape.
    As Charles snapped off pictures, a lone animal came trotting along the fence. Sleek and mostly black, it was a dog with pointed ears. Doberman.
    It came closer, its nose twitching. A low whine started in its throat that quickly turned into a growl. It stopped ten feet from him, staring in his direction and baring its teeth.
    “Shoo!” Charles whispered furiously. He sent a light, magical shock toward the animal. The dog yelped and jumped backward. The growl grew louder.
    “Oh, you have courage, do you?” Charles took its picture before sending a harder shock. The dog yelped again, and jogged back a few paces before barking.
    Damn dog.
    Charles backed away from the fence. He had what he came for, anyway.
    The dog barked again.
    “I’m leaving, for cripes-sakes!” Charles muttered, backing away quicker. He didn’t want to kill the thing, but if it didn’t bugger off and mind its own business soon, he’d probably have to.
    Maybe Sasha knew some non-fatal tricks for dealing with dogs.
    He backtracked through the trees until he reached his starting point. Ann was gone.
    “Fuck.” Heart pounding, he bent to the ground. He saw