The bastard had shocked her. Instead of bear, the pixies had been loaded for Kyn. Tasers—provided they were military or police spec—were amongst the only things that could bring down a Kyn. Not all Kyn were susceptible to the weapon, just some. Feral was one of the few that tasers had no effect on, but she wasn’t. Facts connected in her sleep-addled brain: That street was on the regular patrol route she and Feral took, and they’d been carrying tasers. Which meant the pixies had been looking for her in particular, but why? Why would a bunch of pixies be looking for her? All this crossed her mind in the spilt second before she opened her eyes and looked up and focused on the ceiling. She frowned, not quite sure what the ceiling was doing covered in fabric. A second later, she realized it wasn’t the ceiling, but rather the canopy of an old-style, four-poster bed. She sat up in a bolt of movement, looking around for Feral. Where was he, was he ok? What had the pixies done with him?
