Page 10

The whole town's gone feral for the season. Every porch on the street wears cobwebs and carved gourds and paper ghosts. Woodsmoke sits low over the rooftops. The light's already going thin and orange, the way it does this time of year, and it’s even colder after dark.

Maren wrestles the skeleton toward her railing. It nearly takes her down twice.

My feet move before the rest of me signs off on it.

I cross the grass. She spots me halfway.

"No."

I stop. "I didn't say anything."

"You were going to help."

"Yes."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because you told me to throw out this expensive mirror and then wouldn't tell me why."

Fair.

She heaves the skeleton upright. It tips sideways. I catch it before it hits the boards.

Her eyes narrow. "Traitor."

"I'm holding plastic."

"Same thing."

I prop the skeleton against the rail. It grins at nothing. "What happened after I left?"

Her face changes. Half a second, no more. Fear, there and gone.

My wolf surges. I keep my voice flat. "Maren."

She looks away. "Nothing."

"You're lying."

"Well. Now we've got something in common."

That one lands where she aimed it. I let it.

She starts winding orange lights along the railing. I pick up the other end. She glares. I keep going. A few seconds later she stops fighting me and lets me hold it.

That's Maren. She'll fight until she's sure you're not trying to control her. Then she lets you stay.

It's one of the first things I learned about her.

Six months ago, the day Maren moved in, she climbed out of a rental truck carrying a lamp bigger than her whole torso, missed the curb, and pitched forward.

I caught the lamp before it shattered.

She caught herself against my chest.

For about three seconds, neither of us moved. We definitely felt something. I took a deep breath.