We weren’t alone.

Thomas felt it too. Moving smoothly, he reached an arm behind the driver’s seat and drew forth his sword belt. It bore an old U.S. Cavalry saber he’d carried on a number of dicey occasions, paired up with a more recent toy he’d become fond of, a bent-bladed knife called a kukri, like the one carried by the Ghurkas.

“What is that?” he asked quietly.

I closed my eyes for a moment, reaching out with my arcane senses, attempting to detect any energies that might be moving in around us. The falling snow muffled my magical perceptions every bit as much as it did my physical senses. “Not sure,” I said quietly. “But whatever it is, it’s a safe bet it knows we’re here.”

“How do you want to play it if the music starts?”

“I’ve got nothing to prove,” I said. “I say we run like little girls.”

“Suits me. But don’t let Murphy hear you talking like that.”

“Yeah. She gets oversensitive about ‘little.’”

My shoulders tightened with the tension as Thomas drove forward slowly and carefully. He stopped the car beside the last house on the street. It had a finished look to it, the bushes of its landscaping poking up forlornly through the snow. There were curtains in the windows, and the faint marks of tire tracks, not quite full of new snowfall, led up the drive and to the closed garage.

“Someone’s behind that third window,” Thomas said quietly. “I saw them move.”

I hadn’t seen anything, but then I wasn’t a supernatural predator, complete with a bucketful of preternaturally sharp senses. I nodded to let him know that I’d heard him, and scanned the ground around the house. The snow was untouched. “We’re the first visitors,” I said. “We’re probably making someone nervous.”

“Gunman?”

“Probably,” I said. “That’s what most of Marcone’s people are used to. Come on.”

“You don’t want me to wait out here?”

I shook my head. “There’s something else out here. It might be nothing, but you’re a sitting duck in the car. Maybe if you’d gotten the armored version…”

“Nag, nag, nag,” Thomas said.

“Let’s be calm and friendly,” I said. I opened the door of the Hummer and stepped out into snow that came up over my knees. I made sure not to move too quickly, and kept my hands out in plain sight. On the other side of the Hummer Thomas mirrored me.

“Hello, the house!” I called. “Anyone home?” My voice had that flat, heavy timbre you can only get when there’s a lot of snow, almost like we were standing inside. “My name is Dresden. I’m here to talk.”

Silence. The snow started soaking through my shoes and my jeans.

Thomas whipped his head around toward the end of the little street, where the subdivision ended and the woods that were next in line for the bulldozers began. He stared intently for a moment.

“It’s in the trees,” he reported quietly.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I hoped fervently that whatever was out there, it didn’t have a gun. “I’m not here for trouble!” I called toward the house. I held up two fingers and said, “Scout’s honor.”