He laughed again. “Keep the subject matter of this conversation between you and I, and it won’t have to be anyone in the kitchen.”

The phone disconnected.

A beat later someone knocked at the front door.

Mouse’s growl rumbled through the whole house, even though he’d remained in the front room.

“Harry?” Michael asked.

I found my shoes and stuffed my bare feet into them. “I’m going out to talk to him. Keep an eye on us, but don’t do anything if he doesn’t start it. And watch your back. The last chat with him was a distraction.” I stood up, pulled on my duster, and picked up my staff. I met Michael’s eyes and said, “Watch your back.”

Michael’s head tilted slightly. Then he looked past me, to the windows to the backyard. “Be careful.”

I took my shield bracelet out of my duster pocket and fastened it on, wincing as it went over the mild burns on my wrist. “You know me, Michael. I’m always careful.”

I walked to the front door and looked out the window.

The lights on the street were all out, except for the streetlight in front of Michael’s house. Nicodemus stood in the center of the street outside. His shadow stretched out long and dark to one side of him—the side opposite the one it should have been on, given the position of the light.

Mouse came to my side and planted himself there firmly.

I rested my hand on my dog’s thick neck for a moment, searching the darkness outside for anything or anyone else. I saw nothing—which meant nothing, really. Anything could be out there in the dark.

But the only thing I knew was out there was a scared little girl.

“Let’s go,” I said to Mouse, and stalked out into the snow.

Chapter Thirty-seven

It was snowing again. Five or six inches had fallen since the last time anyone cleared the Carpenters’ front walk. My footsteps crunched through the silent winter air. You could have heard them a block away.

Nicodemus waited for me, stylishly casual in a deep green silk shirt and black trousers. He watched me come with a neutral expression, his eyes narrowed.

I shivered when a breath of cold wind touched me, and my weary muscles threatened to go out of control. Dammit, I was the one working for the Winter Queen. So how come everyone else got to be perfectly comfortable in the middle of a blizzard?

I stopped at the end of Michael’s driveway and planted my staff on the ground. Nicodemus stared silently at me for a while. The shadows had shifted to mask his expression, and I couldn’t see his face very well.

“What,” he said in a low, deadly tone, “is that?”

Mouse stared at Nicodemus, and let out a growl so low that individual snowflakes jumped up off the ground all around him. My dog bared his teeth, showing long white fangs, and his snarl rose in volume.

Hell’s bells. I’d never seen Mouse react like that, except in earnest combat.