Lincoln stared, his head tilted to the side. Dark, alert eyes scanned the hills, the trees. A brutal storm had ripped through several counties, hampering search efforts through the night. A tall, reedy man loped through the trees toward him. Even before the man opened his mouth, Lincoln felt rage brushing his skin. He knew exactly what he’d say. Tall grass swished as he stopped at Lincoln’s side, his lips parting. “Save it, Rogers.” Rogers’ mouth snapped closed again and his head bowed. Lincoln took a few steps forward, staring down at the fields and woods. Dampness hung in the air and a chilled breeze rushed past him, stirring his long, slate-gray coat to swirl around his legs. His cold blue eyes narrowed on the hazy gray horizon but though he pressed with his magic and let it roll outward with curling tendrils that felt and tasted, he sensed...nothing. Hmm. Soft steps parted the grass behind him. A woman came to stand at his side, peering in the same direction he did.
