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Claire pointed. A line of footprints, strangely unfilled by blowing snow stretched back behind the building.“Angels walk lightly on the world, they don’t leave footprints. Demons do. Demons want people to know they’ve passed by because you can’t tempt people who aren’t paying attention.”

A side door, leading into a small office, was open. Streaks of demon residue crossed the crumpled lock.

“It was in here,” Claire said softly, turning in place.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Austin kicked snow off first one back foot and then the other. “Its prints lead right to the door.”

The Keeper ignored him.“It took something from that hook, from the back of the chair, and from under the desk. Something that’s been here for a while given how thick the dust is.” Reaching into the possibilities, she filled the empty spaces with spatial memory. The translucent image of a pair of overalls hung from the hooks, a jacket draped over the back of the chair, and a pair of grimy running shoes lay half on top of each other under the desk. “Clothes?”

“Demons don’t wear clothes?” Dean asked, unable to resist poking a finger through the overalls as they disappeared.

“Yes, but I’ve never heard of a demon buying off the rack, let alone…” She waved a hand around the room and shuddered. “Granted they tend to be a little too fond of shoulder pads, but this is just not them.”

“The footprints keep going back into the woods.”

“Then that must be where the hole is, and if you say, ‘No shit, Sherlock’ to me one more time,” she warned the cat before he could speak, “you’ll be sorry.”

Austin stared up at her, whiskers bristling with affronted innocence.“I was merely going to ask if that was where Summons came from, but if you’re going to get snappy…”

“I’m sorry.” Pulling off a mitten, she rubbed at the crease between her eyes. “The thought of a demon wandering around unremarked by the good guys has me a little tense. I’d better lead from now on,” she added, walking back to the door. “If there’s danger out in those woods, better a Keeper face it than a Bystander.”

Although Dean didn’t like it, he couldn’t disagree and stepped out of her way.

“Youwere going to say‘No shit, Sherlock,’ weren’t you?” he asked Austin quietly when Claire had moved a few paces ahead.

The cat snorted.“Well, duh.”

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Claire picked her way carefully to the center of the small clearing, avoiding the worst patches of filthy snow. Squatting, she dragged her right mitt off with her teeth and extended her hand, fingers spread.

“What’s all over the snow?” Dean murmured to the cat he held cradled against his chest.

Austin squirmed around to get a better look.“Darkness. When it took form, it flaked.”

They watched Claire sift the air for a moment, then stand, frowning.

“This hole is tiny and old. It should have closed on its own and as far as passing a demon—it would have been like passing a kidney stone.” She shook her head. “I could be days defining it well enough to close it.”

“Gee, days spent out in the bush.” Austin sighed and laid his head in the crook of Dean’s elbow. “Words can’t express my elation.”

“You needn’t get too elated,” Claire told him, yanking her mitt back on. “And you needn’t get too comfortable either, I’m going to need you.”

“For what?”

“You get to play bad cop. Dean, maybe you should go back to the truck.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wreathing his head in vapor. She was using the voice Diana referred to as more-Keeper-than-thou and, in his experience, that was never good.“Why should I go back to the truck?”

“We need answers, and we need them quickly. I’m going to gather up the darkness around the hole, and Austin’s going to question it.”

“The darkness?”

“Itis substance; it should be coherent. But this is one of those‘the ends justify the means’ situations and that’s always tricky for the good guys.” Reaching up, she broke a dead branch off an oak tree. “We’ll pull more darkness from the hole. I can contain it in a circle, but it’s going to want out, and you’ll be the only thing it can use to break free.”

“You’ll be inside the circle?”

“I’m a Keeper. I can deal.”

“And Austin?”

“It isn’t actually possible to make a cat do something a cat doesn’t want to do.”

“But we try to keep that quiet,” Austin added as he moved from Dean’s arms to Claire’s. “We learned a long time ago if people can hang onto the absurd hope that someday they’ll train us to stop scratching the furniture, they’ll keep handing over the salmon treats.”

Dean squared his shoulder.“I’m not leaving you if you’re going to be in danger.”

“I’ll be in more danger if you stay. And, you’ll be in danger. If you leave…”

“I won’t be able to help if you need me.”

“You’re fighting testosterone,” Austin murmured into her ear. “Millions of years of evolution that says he has to protect his mate. You can’t win.”

“His mate?”

“Mate, girlfriend, old lady—all valid evolutionary terms.”

“What?”