The three guard dogs instantly sensed her fear and threw themselves at the car. Acheron was closest to the driver’s window; he turned his massive head sideways and lunged for the man’s throat—but a split second later a gunshot exploded and the dog dropped silently to the ground.

Alena looked down at her dog in horror, then at the man still pointing the gun out the window.

“Call them off or I’ll kill every one of them,” he said.

Alena blinked in disbelief.

The man turned and aimed the gun at the rib cage of Phlegethon, who was snarling and sprawling across the passenger-side window.

“No!” Alena hurriedly gave the command to “withdraw,” but she had to repeat it twice before the last of the dogs reluctantly obeyed.

Alena dropped to her knees and buried her face in Acheron’s thick fur. She tried to wrap her arms around the dog’s huge neck, but the lifeless form was so heavy that she could barely squeeze her arm underneath. She began to sob uncontrollably—a poisonous brew of sorrow, terror, and rage.

The man opened the car door; he had to shove the dog’s body aside to step out. He looked down at her. “So you’re the Witch of Endor. Funny, you don’t look like a witch to me.”

Alena glared up at him. “This is Nick’s car.”

“Yeah—I found it in front of his motel, so I borrowed it. I heard about these dogs of yours, and I figured I might get a warmer reception if I showed up in a familiar car. Sorry about the dog—I warned you.” He walked around the trunk of the car toward the kennels, giving a wide berth to Styx, who was staring at him and emitting a low growl. “Man, these mutts are big. What do you feed them, anyway?”

“Put the gun down and I’ll show you.”

He looked back at her. “Put them in the kennel.”

“What?”

“Both of them—lock them up right now or I’ll shoot them both.”

Alena hurried to an empty kennel and opened the gate; she snapped her fingers and pointed inside, and Phlegethon and Styx obediently trotted in.

Alena shut the gate and looked at him. “Are you the man who killed my father?”

“Me? I haven’t been around that long—but I know who did.”

“Who?”

“Let’s try not to get sidetracked here, okay?” He approached the kennels and looked at the line of dogs seated obediently in a row behind the fences. “Which one is the cadaver dog?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Alena didn’t answer.

The man raised the gun and took aim at the first dog in line. “Is it that one?”

She still didn’t answer.