“I take it you behaved with your usual tact at the meeting, then?” Beezle asked.

“Yes,” Nathaniel answered. “Madeline, you should use the shower before I do. I believe Samiel is cooking, and you will need to eat.”

Sure enough, I heard the familiar clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Samiel always liked to cook after a crisis. It was one of many reasons why Beezle adored him. Beezle’s affection was easily bought by anyone with halfway decent kitchen skills.

“Why is Samiel cooking?” Beezle asked. “Where’s Daharan? I thought he was going to increase the protection on this house. If he had done his job, maybe that gross tentacled nightmare wouldn’t have found you.”

“The protection was for the house. I was practically in the street,” I said. “And it was supposed to make it harder for humans to find me. He never said anything about monsters.”

“But where is he?” Beezle persisted.

“I don’t know,” I said, annoyed that Beezle, like Nathaniel, wanted to read sinister implications into Daharan’s behavior. “I’m not his keeper. I’m going to shower.”

“Good, because you smell like you’ve been on a fishing boat for the last two months,” Beezle said, exchanging a look with Nathaniel.

“I’m going to leave now so the two of you can discuss Daharan without me,” I said loudly.

I started down the hall, then stopped. Something had been nagging at me since we’d arrived home, and I’d only just realized what it was.

“Where are the dogs?” I asked, returning to the dining room.

Beezle and Nathaniel both looked at me blankly.

“They were here when I left with Samiel,” Beezle said.

“Did Jude take them?” It seemed like a possibility. The dogs and Jude seemed to have formed an immediate bond.

Beezle shook his head. “He left with us.”

“Where is Jude now?” Nathaniel asked.

Beezle shrugged. “He stayed with us for a while; then we split up. We figured it was more efficient that way.”

“And he’s not back yet,” I said. “So that’s another thing to worry about. Lock! Stock! Barrel!”

There was no answering bark or scrabble of claws on the floor. The truth was they usually enthusiastically assaulted me as soon as I walked in the door, so I should have noticed immediately that something was wrong.

I went through the kitchen, where Samiel appeared to be making soup. He didn’t even glance up from the pile of vegetables he was chopping when I entered.

I crossed to the back door and opened it, half expecting to see the three dogs on the landing leading to the back stairs. But they weren’t there.

Fresh air drifted up the stairwell. I hurried down the stairs as fast as my increased bulk would allow, gripping the handrail. I’d nearly reached the bottom when I heard footsteps on the stairs above me.

“Madeline?” Nathaniel called.

“The back door is open,” I said.

“Do not go outside,” he shouted down the stairs. “Do not go outside without me.”

I paused on the threshold, my backyard framed by the door.

Through the door was a sliver of the yard, the weatherproofed planks of the small back porch, the top corner of the garden shed, a few of the overhanging leaves from the tree in the corner. I shifted so I could peer more to the left, then to the right.

A dark shape hung from the tree. It was attracting flies.

6

“No,” I said.

I took one step toward the open door, felt Nathaniel’s hand close around my wrist.

“Where are you going? I told you to wait,” he said. “You do not know what is out there.”

“She’s never done what she’s told,” Beezle said, landing on my shoulder.

In response I pointed out the door to the hanging thing.

Nathaniel put his hands on both my shoulders and gently moved me to one side. “All the more reason for you to wait.”

He paused at the threshold, listening. A little trace of magic filled the air, the pulse that Nathaniel sent outside searching for danger.

“Whatever was here is gone now,” he said.

Nathaniel stepped onto the porch. I held my breath, expecting something to attack. But there was nothing, only the soft spring breeze carrying the scent of the trees and the lingering stench of roasted kraken. I followed Nathaniel outside and down the porch steps.

Lock and Barrel sat under the tree, staring up.

That was when I realized what the shape was. It was Stock, his belly slit open, hanging from his own entrails.

I gagged, bile rising in my throat, covering my mouth with my hand as I turned away. The sound made Lock and Barrel give up their silent vigil. They turned toward me with mournful faces, automatically moving in my direction.

Then they stopped. And growled.

“Hey, guys, it’s only Nathaniel. You know him,” I said, approaching them with my hand out.

They growled again, showing their teeth.

“I do not think it is me they are upset with,” he said.

I glanced behind me, just to make sure there was nothing scary standing at my back, and then looked back at the dogs.

“Me?” I said, pointing to my chest.

Lock and Barrel growled again.

“The shapeshifter,” Beezle said. “While we were hunting all over the city, he came back here.”

“And pretended to be me, and killed one of my dogs,” I said.