I scooped Smudge off the ledge beneath the rear window where he’d been sleeping and eased him into his cage. He twitched awake and began to pace, giving off the faint scent of burnt dust. He wasn’t on fire, but he was nervous about something.

I kept meaning to attach a thermometer to the outside of his cage. Smoke and flame were vivid enough, but more sensitive readings might help me notice sooner when he was upset, especially if I could jury-rig the thermometer to an audible alert of some sort. Talulah back at the lab could probably set it up to talk to my smartphone via Bluetooth.

“My turn to sit things out,” Nidhi said. Of the three of us, she was the least able to protect herself against something like Deb, and she knew it. “Watch yourself, Isaac. You pushed your limits in Lansing. Call me as soon as the house is secure.”

Lena kissed her, then climbed out and fetched a thick oak cane from beneath her seat. The cane’s twisted design reminded me a little of the caduceus with its twin snakes spiraled around one another. She gripped the end with both hands and pulled.

The wood softened like green willow branches, untwisting and thickening into a pair of wooden bokken. The curved swords continued to shift in her hands, taking on edges as sharp as steel.

I double-checked Smudge and my books. Hopefully I wouldn’t need them. I pushed the door shut as quietly as I could. “Shall we?”

“Never let it be said that dates with you are normal.” She swatted my backside with the flat of one sword.

“I wouldn’t want my lady to get bored.”

The front lawn was mowed, which surprised me a little. I couldn’t imagine Deb pushing a mower back and forth every week. Though she was certainly capable of manipulating one of her neighbors into doing it for her.

Weeds grew through cracks in her driveway. An old tire hung like a blackened wreath over the fire hydrant by the curb. Bars covered the first floor windows, and curtains blocked our view of the inside. The porch light was broken.

I squinted to read a paper sign taped to the screen door: SOLICITORS WILL BE EATEN. Given that Renfields fed on bugs and birds, I was pretty sure it was a joke. I opened the screen door and knocked. When nobody answered, I tried the knob. “Locked.”

Lena touched the doorframe. The wood warped and twisted, and the door popped inward. “Did you bring a flashlight?”

I clipped my reading lamp to my jacket and switched it on.

The house was a wreck. Rotting brown carpet covered floorboards that creaked and sank with each step. Peeling wallpaper revealed crumbling plaster and visible studs. The air smelled like mildew and animal piss.

Red flame rippled over Smudge’s back.