To my left, Aly raided her gun. On my right, Ink Shifted, flooding my mind with heightened perceptions from his wolf form: the sound of footsteps, the smell of gunpowder and lead.
“River.” I was surprised that my voice could sound so human when the rest of me felt so not. “Now.”
On short notice, we hadn’t been able to round up more than three or four pairs of earplugs, but given the number of teens and tweens in our pack, we had iPods to spare. On my order, the girls turned up their music, drowning out all other sounds. If the coven wanted to get past our first line of defense, they’d have to do it the old-fashioned way—without the help of Bridget’s knack.
As if on cue, a single note wafted its way through the forest on the wind, announcing the psychics’ presence long before they appear
