stood alone with the sky shimmering above them. Slater wrapped his arms around her, and she leaned back into his embrace. Together, they gazed up at the spectacle unfolding in the night, the green now joined by a flickering orange flame that spiraled like a staircase up into the heavens. Even the air seemed to crackle with the electrical energy. “The spirits are rising,” Nika said, her dark eyes shining in the orange glow. Across the black waters, Slater could swear that he heard the wolves on St. Peter’s Island baying at the sky. “They’re going home.” And he believed it.
