Jenna sat up. “You did? And?”
“And something seems off. Her pattern changed.” Birdie pulled a file from her enormous floral handbag. She opened the file to reveal several printouts.
“Pattern?”
Birdie looked at the first sheet as she spoke. “Up until a week ago, her routine was so consistent you could set your watch by it.”
Jenna stared at the paper, but lack of sleep and too much worry made it hard to focus. “Show me.”
Birdie pointed at the first line. “If you look at the dates, you can see she does the same things every day, based on her credit card receipts. Every Monday morning, she fills her tank at the same gas station. After that and on all other mornings, she gets a tall chai tea at the Green Leaf Tea House. In the middle of the day, she buys what I’m assuming is lunch at the Peas and Love Café, which happens to be across from the Norse Studies Institute. Every third day, around six thirty, she makes a purchase at the same grocery store.”
She looked at Jenna. “Ingvar’s a creature of habit. Most of us are. That’s not the unusual part. Now look at last week.”
She flipped to the second sheet. “No chai, no lunch, no groceries all week. She gasses up at a different station and orders takeout almost every night. And look at this.” She tapped a line item. “Three times this week, she bought an iced latte at Starbucks.”
Jenna shook her head. “Ingvar’s never been a coffee drinker that I’ve known. Where did she order takeout from?”
Birdie read off the names. “Peking Express, Bowman’s Steak House, Fat Sam’s BBQ, and Mello’s Pizza.”
Jenna’s whole system went on alert, buzzing from what she was seeing, but she needed the full picture before she could accept what had happened. She pointed to the next couple of things. “What are these?”
“A large purchase at a metaphysical store. I looked them up online. They’re basically a witchcraft-supply place. Then there’s a handful of gas stations, budget motels, and fast-food stops on a route that leads to Nocturne Falls. Since we know she came here, the destination isn’t the interesting part.”
“But the coffee is. The takeout places may be even more so.”
“I agree.” Birdie frowned. “Wait, why are the takeout places interesting?”
“Because Ingvar’s a vegetarian. Not saying it’s impossible to eat that way at a steakhouse or a barbecue place, but…it’s not the easy choice. It seems more likely that she would have chosen restaurants with broader selections.” Jenna got up and stood at the end of Titus’s bed, the steady hum of the machine monitoring his vital signs suddenly the most bothersome sound in the world. He shouldn’t be here. This was her fault.
“True,” Birdie said. “I’m not quite sure what to make of it yet, though. On the surface, it looks like someone stole her credit card, but to let it go on for a week? And while she’s traveling?”
“No, Ingvar wouldn’t have ignored a thing like that.” She thought back to the trap and how unlike Ingvar all that magic had seemed. Ingvar was a perfectionist. She would never have gotten a spell so wrong. And then Jenna thought about how off Ingvar had looked since she’d been here. Jenna shook her head. “Something’s wrong. Deeply wrong.”
“What?”
Jenna paced a few steps away, then came back. “It’s like Ingvar isn’t herself. Like…she’s—oh, Birdie, I just had the most terrible thought.”
“What?”
“Could Ingvar be possessed? Who could do something like that? Who has a reason? The capability?” One name came to her. It was a long shot. But a long shot was better than nothing. “We need to go to the station, now. I need to get to a computer.”
Birdie stood. “You can’t. The binding spell.”
Jenna ground her teeth together. “Loki on a stick. No, I can’t. Okay, I need you to go back to the station and do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“You know how you just did the deep dive on Ingvar? I have a new name for you. Sola Skarsgard.”
“On it.” She yanked her purse straps over her shoulder. “You think that’s who stole Ingvar’s identity?”
“More than that.” Jenna looked at Titus. “I think she’s stolen Ingvar’s body.”
Birdie raced out, and as she left, Jenna pulled a chair next to the bed so she could hold Titus’s hand. His skin was like fire. She went into the bathroom and found a washcloth, rinsed it in cold water, then came back and mopped the sweat off his forehead.
A few times, he muttered something unintelligible. He’d groan. Or growl. Once, his wolf flickered across his face.
But mostly, he lay still as death.
She held his hand and rested her head on her arm on the bed. He was strong. He’d pull through this. He had to. Because if he didn’t, Helgrind would taste blood in retribution. She didn’t know whose blood just yet, but she’d find out.
She drifted off to dreams of battle.
“Jenna?”
The gruff whisper pulled her from sleep. She lifted her head to see Titus blinking at her. She sucked in a breath. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”
“Like I was poisoned. Did you get the wraith?”
She shook her head, smiling a little to soften the blow. “No, he and Ingvar disappeared. I haven’t had a chance to close the runes on the trap, so there’s a very distinct possibility he’s still out in those woods, wandering around. The runes are meant to draw wraiths in. Hopefully, he’s the only one out there. Otherwise…” She took a breath. “I’m rambling, sorry.”
“No, it’s nice. Your voice.” Breathing seemed to be taking some effort. “Wolfsbane, huh?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry. I had no idea she was going to use that. I’ve never even heard of it.” She gripped his hand tighter. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
Her mouth fell open. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“For asking Hank and Bridget and Birdie to come.”
“No. I’m not mad at you for that. You
