He stepped across the threshold without invitation, for the one he’d received the previous night still held.

What were the odds, he gloated, that these simpletons would choose one of his houses—one already breached by invitation—in which to barricade themselves? And this was indeed their fortress, he no longer had any doubts. The pungent, stinging aroma of garlic had attacked his nostrils immediately upon entering. But instead of repelling him, it had an opposite effect. It only confirmed his suspicions, and it goaded him into searching further. He could feel Stiles. He could feel his own rage building.

And the hunger. Always the hunger.

The living room and kitchen were empty. But his discomfort grew as he neared the dining room. The garlic was stronger here—his eyes were streaming and his head pounded from the incendiary stench of the herb—but he would not back away. His anger, boiling now, was all that kept him there. It was also what blinded him to the perils of an obvious frontal assault, to the dangers that might lurk beyond the door if Stiles were there and if he were as well armed as before. The vampire was oblivious to all of it. All but the rage. It escaped his lips in a threatening growl as he catapulted blindly through the swinging tavern doors of the dining room.

The full strength of the wretched garlic hit his eyes like a wave of fire and he gasped and staggered off balance, colliding with a china cabinet and nearly toppling it. His fiery wrath was extinguished and he knew immediately that he was in trouble. He flailed about, trying to find the door and defend himself before a broomstick found his heart or Stiles opened fire. But there was no attack. After a few moments only his own grunts and stumblings could he heard, and he finally calmed himself. The return of rationality also helped him fight back against the effects of the garlic, enough that he could open his eyes and look around.

A string of garlic cloves lay on the dining table, peeled to release their aroma. He grabbed the table with one hand and overturned it, sending the hated herb into the far corner and letting him breath easier. But he still felt vulnerable. He scanned the room suspiciously and began to back toward the door. Something was wrong here.