I pulled open the dresser drawer I’d been using for my clothes. They were still haphazardly stuffed in, but the piles were separated, neater, as if someone had rifled through, and made some effort to cover his tracks.

I walked to the door, dropped to all fours and sniffed. I did the same at the connecting door into the next room.

“Our scents, and the cleaning woman’s from this morning. That’s it.”

As Clay did a quick check of the room, I picked up the phone and called Jeremy’s number. There was no answer. When I went to try Antonio’s room, Clay shook his head.

“I’ll find them.” He strode to the connecting door and opened it. “Nick?”

A muffled answer from the bathroom.

“When you’re done, get in here,” Clay called. “Stay with Elena for me.”

I grabbed the door from Clay. “Go on. I’ll wait in there.”

Clay left. I stepped into Nick’s room, then realized I had a call of nature of my own to answer. A word to Nick through the bathroom door, then back into our room.

The bathroom door was half-closed. Hadn’t I just watched Clay shove it open, glancing inside as he’d checked the room?

I crept closer to the door and inhaled. Nothing. Another step, and I could see into the bathroom. Empty and still no scent.

Okay, now I was getting paranoid.

I walked in, and pushed the bathroom door shut behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a blur through the mirror. I started wheeling, fists flying up, but an invisible force hit me with a werewolf-strength uppercut to the jaw. As I fell, my head cracked against the toilet and I blacked out.

My eyelids fluttered, and I saw a figure hunched over me. I punched, but a hand closed around mine before I could make contact.

Still dazed, I struggled to get up and throw my attacker-

“Elena.”

That voice slapped me to my senses. I focused and saw Jeremy over me, his hand still gripping mine. Clay was behind me, cradling my head.

“What happ-?” I tried to jump up, but Jeremy’s grip held me back, letting me rise slowly until I was sitting on the bathroom floor.

“Someone hit-” I looked around. “Did you catch-?”

“He’s gone,” Jeremy said.

“I heard you yell,” Nick said from behind Jeremy. “I ran in here, but he was already in the hall. I took off after him, but all I saw was…I don’t know. Like a blur, I guess. I probably should’ve chased him but I was worried about you…”

“The right decision,” Jeremy said.

“Is there a trail?” I asked. “Maybe we can track-”

“No trail.” Antonio’s head popped through the bathroom doorway. “I checked to the elevator and the stairs. This floor is practically empty, and the only strong trails are ours.”

“No scents in here. No scents out there. That’s not possible-”

“Shanahan,” Clay said. “Potion or spell to cover his scent. A knockback spell to hit Elena. A blur spell to escape.”

“So he knows what we are. Damn it. But if he was here-either lying in wait for me or looking for the letter-I bet his zombies are nearby. And no potion or spell can cover their stink.”

I pushed my feet, wobbled for a second, then steadied myself.

“Can we Change?” I asked Jeremy.

He nodded.

We Changed inside an empty loading dock near the train tracks.

When I was done, I stuck my muzzle out and inhaled. An explosion of scent hit me, so complex and strong that I almost reeled back. Clay’s nose brushed my shoulder as he pushed out for a sniff of his own.

Cities smell foreign. There’s no better way to describe it. As a human, the smell of the city conjures up many emotions and connotations, some good, some bad, but all…normal.

As a wolf, though, I’m assaulted by a combination of incongruent scents. With the forest, I know what to expect-flora and fauna, all earthy, musky, natural smells. Here in one whiff, I picked up dirt and asphalt, mouse droppings and sewer gas, leaves and fresh paint, sweat and cologne, rotting roadkill and fresh cut fries. None of it seemed to fit together, but the incongruence, while jarring, was like a wonderful puzzle for my brain, picking apart the scents and trying to identify each.

Nick nudged my hindquarters. When I didn’t move, he nipped my haunch. I swallowed a snarl and settled for flicking my tail in his face before sliding out.

I went only far enough to stop blocking the way, then glanced around. The look was more habit than necessity. If anyone was here, I’d smell him.

Once all four of us were out, we split up. Antonio and Nick took the side streets while we’d search the ground behind the hotel. That meant their territory was tougher to cover, but ours was far more vast-instead of circumscribed paths along sidewalks and back streets, we had train tracks, open grassland and parking lots.

I started with the tracks, which ran along the rear of the hotel over to Union Station. After five minutes of that, Clay bumped my shoulder, telling me to give it up. He was right. The stink was too much-creosote, diesel fuel, pesticides and whatever else decades of use had dumped into the soil.

We headed for the maze of sidewalks, green space and covered walkways that linked the SkyDome, CN Tower and convention center. The wind whistled around the empty buildings, the distant clomp of a security guard’s boots was the only sign of life. Here we became canine scent vacuums, loping back and forth over the open areas, noses to the ground.

We eventually ended up down a small hill, in a desolate piece of wasteland that earned a tidy sum as a parking lot during baseball season. As we crisscrossed the lot, I found what we’d been hunting for-zombie rot.

I let out a doglike bark, calling Clay over. He snuffled the ground between my forelegs, then grunted. We split up, Clay tracking the scent one way, me the other. When I realized my trail headed away from the hotel, I doubled back and took over from Clay.

Once out of the parking lot, the tracking was slow going-too many other people’s scents joined the zombie’s…and it was the male zombie, who didn’t stink as bad as Rose.

When headlights flashed behind us, Clay bumped me into the shadow of an advertising sign, and we huddled there while the cars disgorged by a red traffic light zoomed past. Coast clear, I headed back to the sidewalk…and couldn’t find the trail. It was so faint and overlain with other scents that I had to backtrack to pick it up. Half a block later, it vanished again.

As we stepped away from the streetlights to let more cars pass, Clay nudged me and gave a slow shake of his head. With the trail this faded, it probably wasn’t recent. True, but it was the only one I had, so I veered around Clay and kept following it.

The longer I insisted on following the trail, the more incensed Clay became. By the time we neared the hotel, Clay was furious, growling and jostling me as hard as he dared. Several times he strode off, but when I didn’t follow, he came back, mood fouler. When he nipped my haunch, I spun on him, ears back, snarling. He returned my snarl and we faced off, growling and snapping until footsteps sent us both diving for cover.

A couple passed on the distant sidewalk, laughing, arms around each other. As we watched them go, a sigh shuddered through Clay’s flanks. He looked over at me and gestured, asking me to just leave the old trail for a while, and we’d come back if we couldn’t find a better one.

I lowered my nose to the ground and inhaled. Yes, it was the bowler-hatted zombie’s trail, but at least four others crisscrossed over it…and there couldn’t have been that many people across this grassy patch since dark.

As I lifted my head, I caught another sent. Faint but…

I strained, my nose twitching. I gestured for Clay to follow, continuing in the same direction the bowler-hatted zombie had gone.