"I didn't build them to keep up a continuous discharge," I said. There was another roaring sound and another flash of light, but this time there was barely a tremor on the floor. "They're going to fade and collapse."

"How long?" Thomas asked.

There was a crackling buzz from outside, too slow, this time, to be heard only as a roar of noise. Blue-white light flickered dimly. "Not long. Dammit."

"Oh, God," Butters said. "Oh, God, oh, God. What happens when the wards are gone?"

I grunted. "The door is made of steel. It will take them some time to get through it. And after that, there's the threshold. That should stop them, or at least slow them down." I raked my fingers over my hair. "We've got to come up with something, fast."

"What about the extra defenses?" Thomas asked.

"They're standing right outside," I said.

"Hence the need for extra defenses," Thomas snapped. He pumped a round into the shotgun's chamber and slipped another into the extra slot in its clip.

"Those defenses are meant to stop a magical assault," I said. "Not physical entry."

"Will they keep the zombies out?" Butters asked.

"Yes. But they'll also keep us in."

"What's so bad about that?" Butters asked.

"Nothing," I said, "until Grevane sets the building on fire. Once they go up, I can't take them down again. We'll be trapped." I ground my teeth. "We've got to get out of here."

"But the zombies are out there!" Butters said.

"I'm not the only one who lives here," I said. "If he burns down the house to get to me, people will die. Thomas, get dressed and get your shoes on. Butters, there's a ladder under that Navajo rug there. I want you to take a candle and go down it. There's a black nylon backpack on a table, and a white skull on a wooden shelf. Put the skull in the backpack and bring it to me."

"What?" Butters said.

"Do it!" I snapped.

Butters scurried over to the Navajo rug, found the trapdoor down to my lab, and grabbed a candle. He disappeared down the ladder.

Thomas put the shotgun down and opened his trunk. It didn't take him long to get dressed in socks, black combat boots, a white T-shirt, a black leather jacket. Maybe it was part of his supernatural sex-vampire powers—dressing quickly for a hasty getaway.

"You see?" he said while he dressed. "About Butters."

"Shut up, Thomas," I said.

"What is the plan?" he said.

I limped over to the phone and put it to my ear. Nothing.

"They cut the phone."

"We can't call for help," Thomas said.

"Right. Only thing we can do is smash our way out to the car."

Thomas nodded his head with a jerk. "How you want to do it?"

"What do you think?"