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I look down at the lights. "Was not."

"You were."

"No."

"Gage. I can see your face."

"Unfortunate."

She laughs. Short, surprised, real. My chest pulls tight around it.

I like making her laugh. More than I should. It's a problem I keep choosing to have.

The cat appears at the top of the porch steps and sits beside the skeleton like he was invited. His gold eyes find mine.

My wolf goes still. Not ready to fight. Reading.

The cat tilts his head. The little thing is sizing me up.

Maren points. "Meet Sid."

The tail lashes once.

"Real name's Obsidian, apparently."

"Apparently?"

"He liked it better."

"How do you know?"

"He made a face."

"You named him after a look on his face?"

"You communicate almost entirely through faces."

She's got me there.

I crouch. The cat walks straight to me, ignoring the woman who owns him. Maren makes an offended noise. "Oh, come on."

He butts his head into my hand. I catch the scent up close, and it's wrong the way I already knew it would be. Old stone. Cold smoke. Air off the top of a mountain at night. Under all of it, magic, thick and patient.

I scratch under his chin. He purrs like an engine.

Maren throws both hands in the air. "I fed you turkey."

The cat gives her nothing.

"Unbelievable."

I almost smile.

Then another smell reaches me.

My head comes up.

Rot. Not the kitchen kind. The other kind. Faint, sweet, drifting off the far edge of Maren's yard where the grass runs into the garden.