A nasally chuff sounding suspiciously like a snort drew my attention to Dell, who was staring at a point beyond my shoulder. I finally turned away from the woods just as Graeson ducked around the side of my home. He reared up on the steps and scratched at the door with a pathetic whine in his throat. Dell laughed at his antics, but I resisted his charm. At least until he flopped on the grass, rolled over and showed me his fuzzy white belly just begging for rubs. I opened the door—like a sucker—and he leapt to his paws, darted in and trotted to the rear of the trailer. The jerk leapt onto my made bed where he proceeded to roll until my sheets were a tangled mess.

“Wow.” Dell snicker-chuckled. “I can’t believe you fell for the old rub my belly shtick.”

“There’s one born every minute,” I grumbled, trailing after him. “What does he think he’s doing?” Shimmying on his back up and down my bed, paws kicking in the air—that wasn’t normal warg behavior. Was it?

“Um, if I had to guess…” she stood and backed a safe distance away, “…I’d say he’s marking territory.”

“Raise one leg, Graeson. I dare you.” I stomped over to my table and rolled up an old sales flyer for a chain store three states away. “One drop on anything that belongs to me, and I’ll load you up and drive you to a vet for a few corrective snips. You’ll spend the rest of your life squatting when you have to pee.”

“It’s a good thing your nose isn’t better,” Dell singsonged.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The sales paper hit the floor. “No. He didn’t.” I bolted down the steps and really looked at the Airstream’s wheels. Liquid glinted on the rubber and glistened on the grass nearby. I leaned closer and inhaled. Ammonia. “I can’t believe he hosed my trailer.” A similar glint drew my eye to the wheels of my truck, which shined. “And my truck?” Sure enough, it too had been splashed with Graeson’s golden stamp of ownership. “I’m going to kill him.” Standing out here among his conquests, I wrinkled my nose. “As soon as he finishes washing the stink off my stuff.”

Cackling merrily, Dell shucked Graeson’s shirt, flung it at me and skipped backward toward the woods. “I need to head home and check on Meemaw. Her arthritis is flaring up something awful. See you later.”

“Hey,” I called after her retreating back. “What are the odds of me arranging a meeting with the Garzas?” The pack witches had performed the divinations to track Charybdis’s movements. I would give my eyeteeth to get my hands on that information for my case file. “They live around here too, right?”