THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER Set in the same world as Faith Hunter's bestselling Jane Yellowrock novels, the fourth Soulwood novel stars Nell Ingram, who channels her power from the earth. Nell can draw magic from the land around her, and lately she's been using it to help the Psy-Law Enforcement Division, which solves paranormal crimes. Joining the team at PsyLED has allowed her to learn more about her powers and the world she always shunned--and to find true friends.   Head agent Rick LaFleur shifts into a panther when the moon calls him, but this time, something has gone wrong. Rick calls Nell from a riverbank--he's naked, with no memory of how he came to be there, and there's a dead black cat, sacrificed in a witch circle and killed by black magic, lying next to him.   Then more animals turn up dead, and team rushes to investigate. A blood-witch is out to kill. But when it seems as if their leader is involved in the crime, the bonds that hold the team together could shatter at any moment. Praise for Faith Hunter’s Soulwood series   "Hunter's brand of supernatural is equal parts exciting, engaging and entertaining...Filled with high-stakes tension, Hunter's storytelling is vivid and descriptive with edgy, sharp dialogue laced with humor."-- RT Book Reviews   "Nell's coming into her own as an independent woman…Hunter's many fans will be delighted with her strong new heroine."-- Publishers Weekly   “Once again, Hunter proves she’s a master of the genre.”—Romance Junkies   "Faith Hunter has constructed a thinking-person's urban fantasy, a modern Sherlock Holmes in long skirts and hands in the dirt."--Kings River Life Magazine   “I love Nell and her PsyLED team and would happily read about their adventures for years.”—Vampire Book Club Faith Hunter is the New York Times bestselling author of the Jane Yellowrock series, the Soulwood series, and the Rogue Mage series. One     The night sky was a wash of cerulean blue over the trees and the roofline, with a trace of scarlet and plum on the western horizon. A silver wedge of moon would rise soon, no longer full, an important consideration when eating a picnic with a were-creature. Other than the stars, our only light came from an oil lantern propped on a flat-topped rock, casting shadows over the blanket and used paper plates and the half-empty bottle of Sister Erasmus' muscadine wine, and even that would get snuffed as soon as the meteor shower began.   I was safe on Soulwood land, even in the full dark, and had no need to worry about my surroundings. I was primarily concentrating on the danged wereleopard lounging in human form on the picnic blanket beside me, looking amused, and maybe just a bit smug. Dang cat. "Take. Off. Your. Shirt," I demanded again.   "Why, Nell, sugar, if you were so desirin' of seeing me in my naked glory, all you had to do was ask."   I blushed, which didn't show, not with my new coloration, but I knew Occam could smell my reaction and hear my suddenly galloping heart. But we had been over this conversational ground on two separate evenings. Two official dates. This was our third and I wasn't taking no for an answer. I inhaled a steadying breath and leaned in until my face was an inch from his, wiping out the horizon. He had no choice but to focus on me. Quietly, almost a whisper, I said, "This ain't my first rodeo, cat-man. I been fighting recalcitrant males for mosta my life. You died. You're still scarred and mostly hairless and moving slow. Now. Take off the shirt. Lemme see the scars so I'll know what to do to help heal them."   "My face is bad enou-"   "No arguments. You been putting this off for days. Lemme see so I can help you."   Occam eased away from me, his body dropping back from the elbow that held his weight, his western-booted ankles uncrossing and recrossing as he sat up. His face lost the laughter and teasing and took on a wary expression. His Texan accent grew stronger. "You brought me back from the dead, sugar. You did the best you could. There ain't no point in this. I'll heal eventually from shifting."   "Yeah? You ain't getting better fast enough, not even when you shift here on Soulwood under the full moon." I shoved my head forward the way the werecats did when they were irritated. Bumped his nose. "You ashamed a your'n body, Occam, sugar?" I asked in my strongest church accent, using it as a weapon to get my way. But it didn't work.   "No." He bumped me back. "You ashamed of yours? I'll take off my shirt if you take off yours."   Shock and excitement and fear and laughter shot through me like lightning. I settled on laughter, a sputtering, staccato sound that echoed back from the house and the massive trees that ringed the acreage and flowed down the hill toward the lights of Knoxville in the far distance. I said, "I ain't ashamed a nothin', kitty cat."   Occam laughed at that, a purring sound that rumbled through his chest and the earth beneath us. It was well after the three da