Black Spring

“I don’t think he is,” I said. “I can’t believe he would have ignored that ruckus up front. Or that he wouldn’t have come upstairs to check and see that I survived the encounter with Alerian. Anyway, it’s my house and he’s not paying rent.”

“Very well,” Nathaniel said, his face doubtful. He and Jude went out the front door so they could start searching from the foyer.

I was getting really sick of defending Daharan. None of the others would trust my instincts on this but I knew he would not harm me. Or double-cross me. I knew it.

Samiel seemed to sense my irritation and resultant need for space. I’ll just clean this up and then start looking around the kitchen.

I nodded and went into the living room. Instead of starting the search, I went to the edge of the picture window, peering out at the activity in the street while trying to stay out of sight of anyone looking up.

“Why don’t you just veil yourself?” Beezle said.

“I shouldn’t have to veil myself in my own house,” I said.

“But it’s okay to hide in the shadows like a criminal in your own house?”

“I’m trying not to flaunt the fact that I’m here. Why waste Samiel’s cute-dumb-guy routine?”

Beezle muttered something to himself that I could not hear.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Beezle said, but he had a look on his face like he was continuing to mutter in his head, and whatever he was muttering wasn’t very complimentary.

I moved away from the window. There wasn’t much going on right now anyway. Several police cars and fire trucks were parked around the monster’s carcass. The street was blocked off at both ends by police barriers.

We lived close to the end of the block, and a crowd of people and a couple of news vans were on the other side of the police tape. I wasn’t sure what human infrastructure would be able to do about the dead nightmare in the street. Drag it away with a crane?

Maybe later, when Daharan came home, we could figure out a way to clear it out. Since I’d made the mess, I should probably clean it up. Although half the responsibility was Alerian’s. Unfortunately, he probably wouldn’t see it that way. He’d just be pissed that I managed to escape his monster.

For now I needed to focus on the very real possibility that something small and nasty had taken advantage of the open back door. Pretty much every magical creature was unable to enter a home without a verbal invitation. Some little things, though, had such a weak magical aura that the rules were a bit more flexible. An open door could be an invitation to a creature like that. They followed the letter of the magical law, but you never actually asked them in.

Certain creatures behaved a lot like their real-world counterparts. If you got a pair of rat-demons in your wall, good luck getting them out. They were proficient breeders, and once the female started dropping litters, the only way to get rid of them was to hire a magical exterminator. In the meantime the demons would eavesdrop on every conversation you had and sell your information to the highest bidder.

No, this was definitely not a problem that I needed right now. I cast out my power like a net, my eyes closed. I could “see” all the magical energy within the reach of my net. The shapes of Beezle and Samiel were clear in my mind’s eyes, as were the dogs, the aura of their power showing up inside my net.

I scanned the walls and the furniture thoroughly, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There were no living creatures on this floor that didn’t belong, but there was something on the floor, something that looked almost like a rapidly dissolving paint trail.

“The shapeshifter,” I said.

7

I dropped to my hands and knees to peer at it more closely. The trail was dissolving even as I looked at it.

“No,” I said, crawling along the floor, my nose pressed to the ground.

The dogs thought I must be playing some kind of game and hopped off the couch to join me, their tails wagging playfully.

“Not now,” I said impatiently as I scurried along after the trail.

“What on earth are you doing?” Beezle asked. “I can’t decide if you look like a basset hound or a really fat cockroach.”

“I’m not fat. I’m pregnant,” I said automatically. “And I think I found the magical signature of the shapeshifter, the spell he used to lure Lock¸ Stock and Barrel outside. If I could just get a good look at it, I might be able to lock on to it and track it.”

As I said this I continued following the trail down the hall between the kitchen and the dining room. Lock and Barrel padded after me curiously.

“So what’s the problem?” Beezle said, landing on my shoulder and pressing his cheek against mine so he could peer down at what I was looking at.

“It keeps dissolving,” I said. “Almost as soon as I look at it. Do you see that?”

I pointed to the disintegrating trail.

“Yes,” Beezle said, sounding intrigued. “It’s almost like the act of focusing on it is making it disappear.”