On the Hunt: City Shifters: the Pack, #4

By Layla Nash

She's going to change his world, whether he's ready or not.

Jinx minds her own business. Being a witch who specializes in magical tattoos brings all kinds of riffraff to her door, and she does everything in her power to send it on its way. A crazed sorcerer wanting her help is just another Tuesday, but the intimidating, handsome werewolf who hunts him down spells trouble with a capital T. Todd -- intense, sexy, so annoyingly sure of himself -- is exactly the kind of guy she loves, as long as she can leave before it gets serious.

Todd only does serious. He keeps the pack in order for the alpha, regardless of the trouble they find. The last thing he needs is a wild card witch bringing her chaos and tattoos and distracting curves into his orderly world. But the beautiful Jinx casts a spell on him that he can't shake, even when the pack should come first. She promises the kind of life he's only dreamed of if he can convince her to stick around.

Jinx doesn't know who to run from faster: the evil sorcerer bent on trapping a witch, or the dark-eyed hero who tempts her with family and security and normal life. Todd wants her to be someone she's not, and she needs him to be different, too. Can their mismatched hearts fit together, or is her spell of good luck running out?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Layla Nash
• Release date: Mar 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393664079

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

JINX

The nice thing about tattooing someone who was already mostly ink was that he didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, hardly even moved as I worked the design into his skin. The problem with the one in my chair was that he wasn’t entirely human, so his skin healed up too fast for the ink to settle the right way. Add in that the magic I worked into the ink made it slipperier than normal ink, and I needed all my patience. Having someone high-strung or jumpy in the chair would have been a disaster.

I didn’t look up at the guy as I leaned close and whispered to the magic, getting the ink to play nice so I could form the next letter of the name he wanted tattooed over his heart. Who’s Persephone? Other than the chick who got kidnapped by Hades?

My girl, the big dude said, his hard features unyielding. Not exactly unfriendly, just... indifferent. Normally guys in my chair tried to look at my tits or brush their arm against the sideboob while I was contorted around to get the best angle, but not this dude. It was a nice change.

I grunted. It was the worst idea ever to get someone’s name tattooed on you, especially with magic. It was bad enough to get a boyfriend or wife or whoever permanently on your skin, but to jam it in there with magic, too... It was just asking to screw things up. Like an auto-jinx. I shook my head. No discount when you come back for a cover-up.

That won’t be needed. His gaze drifted to my face, maybe to the rings that stacked up along my ear or the one in my nose, and a hint of a smile made him look younger and less intimidating. She’s mine forever.

That’s usually only the case with mamas and daughters, I said under my breath. But whatever floats your boat, man.

Something relaxed in his eyes and an almost dreamy look crossed his expression. She’s having my baby. Might be a daughter. Could be a boy. Either way, I’ll be back for their name, too.

I smiled a touch, too, since it was sweet in a completely impractical way. Every tattoo artist knew you didn’t get a name on you unless you were prepared to eventually laser it off or cover it up. And neither of those was really an option with the kind of tattoos I did for dudes like that—with magic in the ink; they carried a little charm for protection or strength or whatever they came in looking for. And you couldn’t get it back out again with just a laser. Even with a magical removal—for which I charged almost literally an arm or a leg—there was always some residue, a ghost of a charm lingering in the skin.

This guy, Dodge, had come in looking for Persephone on his chest, over his heart, charged with a tracker spell and a protection charm. All focused on her. Sweet, but totally impractical. Something about it being a way to always find her when she needed him. It tied his health to hers, so he could feel if she was ever sick or injured or afraid. And he’d asked about making a link, if she got his name, so that all she had to do was think a message at him and have it reach him. I’d never done something that difficult, though the challenge appealed to me and definitely had me thinking about what books I’d need to reference in order to design something like that.

I wasn’t the kind of witch to turn down complicated work, though, not when I didn’t advertise my particular set of skills. I didn’t know how Dodge found out about me, but he’d said the magic words when he called for an appointment. I kept the shop open late for private customers, like him, so no one else was around to sense the static that charged the air as I worked a spell into and over the ink.

Normally I worked sigils or runes for people, or some kind of design that had meaning for them. It was the best way to adhere the magic and the intent of the spell, when the whole thing had meaning. I hadn’t done fancy lettering for a while, so I had done up a stencil instead of trying to freehand it. A dude that big... I wasn’t about to piss him off with an oopsie on his girl’s name.

Once I got through the tricky bit, reinforcing the protection spell on the ink as the charm slid and swiveled away from the tattoo gun, I exhaled and adjusted how I leaned against his side, planting my elbow in his chest to steady my hand. When’s she due?

Couple of months, he said. He hardly breathed, watching me from just a foot away, and his brown-gold eyes made my skin prickle. He even had fresh breath and good teeth, something else my typical clientele lacked.

Definitely not human, but not a witch. Something else. Maybe fae? I shook the feeling off. Congrats.

He grunted and watched my progress in silence. Not the talkative type, then. Thank the stars. I’d had a bunch of frat boys in the shop earlier that day, getting some bullshit tattoos to celebrate someone’s birthday or graduation or losing their V card... Who the fuck knew. They got matching Greek letters and hooted a lot, some of them drunk enough I should have turned them away. Since the shop wasn’t exactly legal to start with, it wasn’t like I had a license to lose. They’d found an online review that I’d done my damnedest to have removed, but the damage was done. I expected the health and safety inspectors to show up any minute.

I exhaled hard enough to flip my hair out of my eyes. It had been a long fucking day.

What kind of name is Jinx? he asked, head tilted with an oddly predatory cast.

My heart thumped but I shoved the instinctive fear away at being tracked by something that big and strong and maybe murderous. Perhaps an animal, one of the werewolves I’d heard rumors about lately but hadn’t bothered to investigate. Supposed to be the kind of name that doesn’t invite questions, but you know what they say about curiosity and cats.

I gave him a dark look and he laughed hard enough I had to sit back so I didn’t fuck up the ‘h.’

Not a cat, he said. But point taken.

What are you, then? I stretched my back, since he’d jostled me out of my concentration anyway. I rotated my head until my joints cracked and sighed. I much preferred tattooing this guy, whatever he ended up being, instead of rowdy frat boys who wanted to cop a feel or rub their hard-on against me like they thought I wouldn’t notice. It had taken all of my strength of will—and the rule of three—to stop from driving hexes under their skin. If not a cat.

Not something we talk about, he said, his tone gentler than I would have expected from a dude his size with the ink from multiple mercenary companies and the scars to match. But his eyes flashed even more gold and I knew for sure he was a shifter of some kind. One of the werewolves.

I shook my head and leaned like I needed to check the window at the front of the shop. Should I be worried it’s almost a full moon?

He grinned and his canine teeth were just a touch too long for normal. Not how it works, but you should stay on your toes.

Sure. I wasn’t worried. He wouldn’t have called asking for the ‘special’ if he didn’t already know that I was a magic-handler of some kind, so he knew not to piss me off. Or so I hoped. Normally I didn’t care who referred new clients, but I was curious how one of the animals heard about me. I’d paid my bills off various fae wanting protection spells and charms for the last few years, and moved cities when I ran out of business—or too much interest drummed up and surrounded me. Witches typically didn’t do well among big gatherings of humans.

Dodge flexed his massive chest and settled back in the chair, nodding for me to get started again. If you don’t mind, I’ve got some referrals to send your way. Some of my friends are interested in more ink but regular artists have trouble with our... special properties.

Special properties. I snorted and shook my head as I leaned back over his chest and wiped the ink off the Perseph on his chest. He’d also asked for a couple of flowers and vines around it, although he hadn’t given me much to work with. Something about her being an architect working with plants.

Even though a guy like that—who dropped serious money for the magical ink—probably had enough referrals to keep my shop afloat for another couple of years, I wasn’t about to become the artist of choice for the animals. They were too unpredictable. Just because this one could behave didn’t mean I wanted to invite a whole pack of crazy into my life. There was enough of that as it was.

Plus, if they were all built like Dodge, I’d be tempted to go home with one. Or two. Maybe three. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something stupid and shook my head. Better if you lost my information, man. I won’t be here much longer.

You got somewhere to be?

It sounded like an innocent question, but for witches and other magical beings, there were no innocent questions. And people wanting to know when you planned to pull up stakes usually meant trouble. That meant they wanted to stop you from leaving or hustle you out the door faster so they could take all your stuff. So I shrugged and started thinking of how fast I could untangle myself and get the fuck out of the city on my own terms. Nowhere in particular.

Good. A couple of my friends are interested in...

I tensed as a small alert ward on the front door pinged and filled the back room with a red haze. I was almost certain I’d locked up after Dodge arrived. Dodge looked around, all of him seeming to grow and take up more room: no doubt prepared for battle. I frowned at him and shook my head, listening for the reaction of the ward. It wasn’t a strong thing or meant to keep people out; it was just there to give me enough time to run or prepare a defense.

The red tinge to the air shifted and darkened, indicating someone with magic. I breathed a little easier; at least it wasn’t the cops or the Better Business Bureau looking to check my license. I waved at the big dude to stay in the chair as I called, Coming, and shoved to my feet.

I snapped off my gloves after setting the gun aside and gave him a dark look when Dodge looked like he meant to charge through ahead of me. Overprotective shifter. Not surprising. Definitely not one of the cats, although he didn’t look like a bear. I’d heard rumors of both in the city and spotted a few of them in the wild. Not that I’d gotten close enough to confirm it. They weren’t supposed to know about witches or our kind of magic, and yet Dodge showed up from somewhere...

Out in the waiting room, a tall twitchy dude lingered near the front door. I raised my eyebrows as I took him in. I would have dismissed him as homeless if he hadn’t stank of magic. He wore poorly fitting clothes and reeked, though he held out a wad of cash. I need a tattoo.

I’m all booked up, mate. I didn’t get closer and I sure as hell didn’t take his money. I’m not taking referrals right now. Try again on the next full moon.

I folded my hands behind my back. If he was still sane, he’d understand the gesture as how witches prepared to hex whoever pissed them off. It was aggressive—more aggressive than I typically wanted to be with an unknown. But that guy gave me seriously creepy vibes and I wasn’t interested in ever seeing him in my shop again. All the more reason to pull chocks and get the fuck out of town.

The man shook white-gray, greasy hair out of his eyes and watched me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. I can pay. It is a small tattoo. A charm. It is... imperative.

A small tattoo. They always claimed it was small magic, some insignificant thing. Easily done. Quickly done. I held my breath and hoped that Dodge kept his ass in the back. I didn’t need him knowing any more of my business, or scaring the dude off before I was ready for him to be scared off. What charm?

He held out a thin scrap of tissue paper, his fingers trembling. I pointed at the coffee table and he set it down. I glanced at the shape and my stomach turned over. Deflective, not protective. Most of the people who wanted permanent magical tattoos were interested in luck, strength, or protection. This guy... wanted people to overlook him. To not see him, to ignore him, to look the other way.

I pretended to consider it, using a pen to turn the paper over to study the reverse of the design he’d provided. He shuffled closer and my skin prickled. For a wild moment, I considered calling for Dodge to come out as a distraction so I could fucking bolt. The new guy—reeking of magic but not a type of witch I’d run across before—breathed through his mouth as his wild eyes stared at me. You can do it. Just a small one. It’s important.

All ink is important, I said, trying to smile. I stepped back and put my hands behind me again, though I backed up to the side of the room where I had a few magical alarms and weapons prepared. Just in case. I’d learned my lessons the hard way. But now isn’t the time for this sort of thing. It’ll need a different moon. Couple of days, man.

His eyes narrowed and something crackled in his aura. Like he wanted to flex on me. Like he expected to inflict his will on me, to convince me to do what he wanted.

Well, the joke was on him. I’d learned long ago how to be like water—go with the flow. Avoid obstacles, fit myself to the places where I needed to be, eventually get to my destination even if I had to wear down a mountain. Whatever the hell he was, he wasn’t a match for me. But I still smiled, because I hadn’t gotten my nickname by chance. Come back on Saturday. Moon’ll be right.

You could do it now, he breathed. He reached out, like he meant to grab my wrist. I have the power. We can do it together.

Not how I work. There wasn’t enough money in the world to convince me to share power with that guy. It’s four grand. You can show up Saturday at the witching hour if you want the ink. Otherwise... blessed be.

I flicked my fingers behind my back and used a hint of power to trigger a tiny little spell on the door. It was a jinx, a little baby hex that would inconvenience the shit out of the guy and subconsciously work on convincing him to never look for me again. It had worked against guys a hell of a lot scarier than the mumbling hobo in front of me. Even if his aura had some warning signs that I would have heeded under normal circumstances.

Maybe having a mountain of werewolf muscle in the back room made me crazier than normal.

The hobo eyed me and drew himself up to his full height, managing to look almost regal despite his twitching and picking at his arms. I kept the fake smile on my face as I reached back for something stronger than just a jinx. Just in case.

CHAPTER 2

TODD

Todd Evershaw, second-in-command of the most dysfunctional wolf pack he’d ever known, paced the length of the room and rubbed his temples. He needed a vacation. A long vacation. Far, far away from his cousin and the rest of the SilverLine pack. Including the subordinate pack, RedCloud, and its inexperienced but still really fucking cocky alpha.

Holden was one of those skinny, trendy kids with floppy hair and tight pants that were short enough to make sure the entire world saw his hip colorful socks. Todd wanted to punch him in his smug little face, even when the kid was actually trying to figure out how to be a good alpha. He had the instincts for it and the attitude to go along, but he didn’t have the experience or the political savvy to manage the variety of personalities and emotions that an alpha—or his hapless second-in-command—had to deal with.

Todd leaned his knuckles on the table in front of him and exhaled as much of his frustration as he could. He didn’t think the kid was trying to be difficult on purpose. It was just... he didn’t get it. And there were some things that couldn’t be explained. Look, man. You can’t let a dispute like that simmer. You go in, crack heads, and make them fight it out or fight you. That’s it. Letting people feel their feelings is no solution when you’ve got males fighting over a female.

Holden watched him without expression. They’ll figure it out eventually.

Probably, Todd said. He wanted to shake the kid and tell him to just fucking follow orders, but Miles, Todd’s cousin and alpha of SilverLine, wanted him to ‘mentor’ Holden into being a stronger alpha. Which meant exercising patience that Todd didn’t come by naturally. He was too accustomed to the misfits of SilverLine: they all had their quirks, but they came together as a family and did what was necessary to protect the pack. RedCloud’s origins did not lend themselves to a stable or reliable family. But what’s the damage to the rest of your people? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

The younger man frowned, his gaze going far away. Yes, but...

"For you, there cannot be a ‘but’ to that sentence. Your pack—the safety and security of all—outweighs whatever one person wants or needs or does. That’s just how it is." Todd frowned as his phone rang, and his heart beat a little faster to see Dodge’s name on the screen. The big bruiser, who’d taken over as third-in-command when Henry headed north with his mate, never called. Ever. He just handled shit. Which meant whatever happened was about to destroy the city around them or had to do with Miles and his mate. His pregnant mate.

Todd straightened from where he leaned and paced away as he answered the phone, wishing he had time for a few shots of whiskey before he had to face more drama. Todd really needed Miles to get his head out of his ass and jump back into the daily management of the pack. If Todd wanted to be alpha in all the ways that mattered, then he damn well would have made his own pack. What’s up?

We got an opportunity or a disaster on our hands, the wolf murmured, a controlled tone that reminded Todd that Dodge spent most of his life in paramilitary groups hunting around the globe for the most dangerous prey. That fucking sorcerer is back. Right in front of me. Don’t think I can take him on my own. There’s a—civilian.

The way he said ‘civilian’ made Todd’s eyes narrow, but he started moving. It was just a couple of months since Henry’s mate, Ophelia, had barreled into SilverLine with an ex-boyfriend and evil sorcerer on her heels. The son of a bitch, Rocko, had wreaked havoc on the pack and Henry’s family, and their pack-mate Silas, before the witches managed to defeat him. They hadn’t heard anything from the sorcerer in almost six months. Even Deirdre, Miles’s mate, had started to relax. Everyone thought the sorcerer was gone.

It was just Todd’s luck that the bastard resurfaced when he already had a full plate and a few side dishes of bullshit and drama to deal with at the same time. Where are you? How many do we need?

Small team, Dodge breathed. We can’t take him tonight. But there’s an opportunity to set a trap. We just need to convince the civilian to help.

Todd pinched the bridge of his nose but knew that Dodge wouldn’t have brought it up if there wasn’t a real chance to trap the sorcerer and get their vengeance. I’m on my way. I’m bringing Silas. He can track the son of a bitch. Send me the address.

He shoved to his feet and started for the door, his mind already making a list of the things he needed to hand over to Mercy to handle while he went after the sorcerer, the tasks that would be delayed, the meetings he’d have to reschedule... He almost forgot about Holden until the kid cleared his throat. Can I help with anything?

Get your pack in order, Todd said. He paused by the open door, glancing into the hall as he searched for someone to fetch Silas and call Miles to explain what was going on. That’s how you can help. Hold the western border of our territory, like we agreed, and keep an eye out for those Goddamned coyotes.

We can fight, Holden said, and caught up as Todd strode down the hall and shouted for Mercy or Andy or anyone who could take care of business. The younger man allowed some frustration to creep into his voice. Don’t you think part of the problem is that we’re never allowed to actually fight or get into scrapes? We’re always in a holding pattern, always sending you the problems so that you guys handle it. We’re ready to fight.

Todd clenched his jaw against just barking an order at the kid. It was the very last time Todd allowed Miles to make him mentor someone. Look, I’m happy to talk about that later. Right now I have a time-sensitive issue I’ve got to get after, and there are at least a hundred other things I need to manage on the way. Do me a favor. Deal with your pack’s emotional drama and come back tomorrow afternoon. We’ll have a couple of beers and figure this shit out.

It was the best he could do. Holden opened his mouth to argue, maybe to whine about not being included, but his teeth snapped shut with a click and his eyes flashed gold.

Todd tensed, his hackles rising though he couldn’t have said why, and glanced over his shoulder to see what had drawn the kid’s attention. And Todd’s eyes immediately narrowed. Mercy, his cousin and a beam of sunshine even in the darkest times, bounced down the hall with wide eyes and her typical energy. You called? What’s going on? What do you need?

The trouble with the fucking sorcerer faded away as Todd watched Mercy glance at Holden, as her cheeks flushed, as the kid’s attention sharpened and something like hunger fired in his eyes.

Oh. Fuck. No.

Todd fixed Holden with a murderous glare and managed to say between his gritted teeth, "Go. Away. Fast."

Holden jerked like he’d been punched, then dragged his eyes away from Mercy and over to Todd. Uh, sorry. I’ll—we’ll handle the issue. And—I’ll be back tomorrow.

Todd gripped Mercy’s shoulder and propelled her the fuck away from Holden, scowling at the younger man until they turned a corner and the little shit wasn’t there leering at sweet little Mercy. Who, despite being in her twenties, would always be the scared, wide-eyed thirteen-year-old who landed on his and Miles’s doorstep after a hard life bouncing between shitty relatives. Stay away from him.

Her whole face turned crimson. What are you talking about?

I saw the way he looked at you. Todd’s molars might have cracked, he clenched his jaw so hard. He wanted to punch something. That sorcerer would do, if he could get to the address Dodge texted fast enough. The backup would be boxing with Dodge before the man sought out his pregnant mate for the night. And I saw how you looked at him. Stay away from that kid, Mercy. He’s nothing but trouble.

Then why are you spending so much time coaching him? she demanded, keeping pace easily although she practically skipped and bounced as he thudded along. It was like she existed in her own gravity. "Obviously Evershaw doesn’t think he’s that bad, or he would have kicked him out or killed him or something."

Todd stopped in his tracks and caught her shoulders, bending his knees so he could meet her eye to eye. He dropped his voice and let a hint of a growl come through, so she would know he was serious. Mercy Meredith Evershaw, that kid’s got a dumb thin tie and stupid socks and a fucking ridiculous haircut, and he thinks he’s an alpha. He thinks he understands how packs work and what his responsibilities are. I’m telling you he doesn’t. He doesn’t have any idea yet. He’s just playing games. If you—get involved with him, you’re going to get hurt. He won’t know how to protect you.

She rolled her eyes even though every visible inch of her skin remained bright as a summer watermelon. Come on, Todd. It’s nothing. He doesn’t even notice me.

Todd growled and started walking as fast as possible to the garage. Fine. Then you’re coming with me until that little shit is out of the way, and you’re going straight to Deirdre’s house for the rest of the week.

Where are we going? she asked, though she gave him a sharp look that made it clear Todd would get an earful from the alpha’s mate on letting Mercy make her own choices. Deirdre, the witch, insisted that Mercy was old enough to go around dating whoever she wanted. He and Evershaw strongly disagreed.

Dodge spotted the sorcerer, Todd said. He picked up a set of radios and tossed her one before they jumped into a waiting SUV. Call the house and get Silas moving. He can meet us there. Dodge sent the address. We’re not going to attack the sorcerer, not yet. Dodge sounds like he has a plan, and there’s a non-shifter involved. We can’t let this get crazy.

Her eyes widened and she grinned, scrambling into the truck and following orders without questioning that, at least. Todd shook his head and pulled the SUV out into the night so they could back up Dodge before shit got crazy. He put Holden out of his mind and focused on the task at hand, though he dictated a list of things to change and people to message the second Mercy was off the phone with Miles. It might be one task at a time but he had a few thousand waiting in the hopper. Hopefully he could strike the sorcerer off the list, then figure out how to get Holden the fuck out of his hair—and away from Mercy—before real trouble started.

CHAPTER 3

JINX

The hobo eventually retreated, murmuring and chanting to himself, and when he backed through the door, the jinx adhered to his sleeve and left a bright trail of blue sparkles for my magical sight. Another witch might see it, but only if they were damn strong. I shook myself and resisted the urge to immediately conduct a cleansing, since it was an unwritten rule among the witch community that we didn’t work magic in front of other supernaturals. And whatever Dodge was, he wasn’t a witch.

So no magic where he could see it.

I lit a few bundles of herbs around the front of the shop, though, just to clear the air of the general funk from the man who hadn’t showered in waaaay too long. I picked the scrap of paper up with the pen and an old magazine, transferring it to somewhere it wouldn’t affect my work or anyone who got too close to it. The guy, who’d given his name as Roger, hadn’t created the drawing with magical intent, so it wasn’t a super-charged sigil or anything. Still. It wasn’t the kind of thing I wanted hanging around. No telling where he’d found it.

I wiped my hands off with special sanitizer with a little magical oomph that I kept around the shop, then locked the front door before heading to the back room. I didn’t see Dodge right away, since the chair was empty and at least one of the lights had been turned off, then a shadow moved on my right and I jumped. I jammed my left hand and a hex into the massive bulk next to me and was rewarded with a grunt and two massive steel arms wrapped around my chest, lifting me off my feet.

It’s Dodge, he muttered. Jesus Christ. Is he gone?

My heart thumped against my ribs. Holy moon and stars, he was strong. Like, strong enough to crush my ribs and snap me in half. As much as I wanted to hex the shit out of him and bolt, I forced myself to go limp and relaxed in his grip. Yeah. What the fuck are you doing?

Preparing to save you, Dodge said. He set me back down on my feet but kept hold of my shoulder as he eased into the doorway, scanning the front room. The tension in him made my skin prickle. He moved like he was the most dangerous thing in the neighborhood. Which he was, if I was honest with myself. The big guy, still shirtless and with half his wife’s name on his chest, moved way too smoothly and silently for someone his size. Are you sure he’s gone?

Yep. Locked the door behind him. I raised my eyebrows as I watched him. Do you know him?

You could say that. Dodge inhaled deeply, tilting his head back as he tasted the air, and stalked through the front room and up to the door before he returned and moved to the back, all the way past the room where we sanitized everything, and I heard the metal door in the back slam before his footsteps returned. He’s not a good guy.

I snorted and shook my head, going back to the table where I’d left the gun and ink. Obviously. You want to finish this up or are you too excited to sit still?

He gave me a sidelong look that made me want to laugh, then tilted his head at the front of the shop. Who else knows you’re here? Who would have referred someone like that? Have you ever seen him before?

That’s a lot of questions for someone who didn’t bother to use his last name, I said, giving him a pointed look right back. You want the rest of this ink, mind your business. I don’t get referrals because I share everyone’s business around.

This is important. Dodge’s expression hardened. He didn’t return to the chair, and he kept looking at the back door like he expected the hobo to leap out of thin air. How do you know him?

I sighed and folded my arms over my chest. Fine. Book another session. It’s an additional two thousand for the reschedule. Unless you’re happy with ‘Perseph’ on your chest, then it’s nice to know you and I hope I don’t see you later.

I turned my back on him, even though my neck prickled and my magical senses amplified every motion and breath as he lingered there, and started dismantling and cleaning the equipment. I could still get a couple