Rodrigues suppressed a shiver. He had never been the type to freak out at haunted houses or scary movies, but this campsite gave him the creeps.

  There were dead and decaying animals littering the place, and there hadn’t been a living thing, not so much as a fly, for a quarter of a mile leading up to it. He’d seen a squirrel on the edge of the affected area watching a tree that had unburdened itself of a treasure trove of acorns—but the little creature didn’t approach. It stared and shook, afraid to get any closer.

  The campground was empty now, but someone had been here within the past week. Rodrigues was sifting through the ashes of the campfire when he felt a changeling’s power flare up a few miles away.

  “Shit.” He froze in place. It was farther up the mountain—right around Cloudcroft, according to his maps. He focused and sensed a mentalist scanning the area.

  It was subtle, but the power behind it was immense, almost godlike. It swept over the region, paused on the campground, then pulled back as if it had sensed something.

  It had to be Teri Darby. Had she seen him? DSSA doctrine stated that mentalists could not detect dampers except by indirect means. Rodrigues wasn’t actively hiding anything, so he should have been invisible to a normal mentalist—but major talents sometimes presented in unprecedented ways, and intel on the limits of Darby’s abilities was pitiful at best.

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  He sensed another burst of changeling power, then a smaller one … a healer was at work. Then all went quiet again as the mentalist shielded her companions. He could still sense her now that he knew what to look for—but the thread was tenuous, and he was afraid if he stopped concentrating he would lose it.

  “Damn, she’s good,” he muttered. “Time to get a move on, Eddie.” If the three rogue afflicted were active again, he was running out of time.

  He’d have to leave the Humvee behind. There was only one road up, and there was no way to sneak in except on foot. “This is what we train for,” he said, as he shouldered his frame backpack and pulled his balaclava down over his face. The weight of the SCAR Heavy in his gloved hands was a comfort.

  He’d hiked a half a mile up the mountain when he felt a mentalist probe from another direction. This one was all too familiar.

  Nazimi. She must have heard them too. Shit, things are getting way too complicated around here.

  She was closer to Cloudcroft than he was, too. If he were a betting man, he’d bet on Teri Darby against his new “friend” Nazimi. The foreign woman was impressive, but Teri was in another league altogether.

  Good thing she told me how to get in touch with her friends, he thought. There’s a lot more I need to know about this … Anu.

  He picked up the pace.