Malcolm flashed his niece a wolfish smile, approving the first flickers of her awakening power. But he sobered an instant later, gaze hardening to blazing adamant.
"You know our score then, old one?" His tone brokered no argument, thrumming with alpha dominance. "Give us the run, and may the dark powers tremble at the fury about to descend!"
Agnes regarded him with an inscrutable look—part wisdom, part sardonic amusement. "Patience, whelp," she rasped. "The forest speaks in riddles, not commands."
"Would you quit dillydallying and pick up the pace?" He tossed a toothy snarl over one broad shoulder. "Before the scent goes stale again - what's left of it through all this celestial interference!"
"If your senses weren't mired in such brutish singlemindedness, whelp, you might perceive the
