And they left.

Lloyd Slate's screams lingered behind them.

I sat there, too tired to move, until the lights began to dim. I vaguely remember feeling Ebenezar heft me off the ground and get my arm across his shoulders. The Gatekeeper murmured something, and Billy answered him.

I woke up back at my place, in bed.

Billy, who had been dozing in a chair next to the bed, woke up with a snort and said, "Hey, there you are. You thirsty?"

I nodded, throat too dry to speak, and he handed me a glass of cool water.

"What happened?" I asked, when I could speak.

He shook his head. "Meryl died. She told me to tell you that she'd made her Choice and didn't regret it. Then she just changed. We found her on the ground near you."

I closed my eyes and nodded.

"Ebenezar said to tell you that you'd made a lot of people see red, but that you shouldn't worry about them for a while."

"Heh," I said. "The Alphas?"

"Banged up," Billy said, a hint of pride in his voice. "One hundred and fifty-five stitches all together, but we all came out of it more or less in one piece. Pizza party and gaming at my place tonight."

My stomach growled at the word "pizza."

I took a shower, dried off, and dressed in clean clothes. That made me blink. I looked around the bathroom, then peeked out at my bedroom, and said to Billy, "You cleaned up? Did laundry?"

He shook his head. "Not me." There was a knock at the door and he said, "Just a minute." I heard him go out and say something through the door before he came back in. "Visitors."

I put some socks on, then my sneakers. "Who is it?"

"The new Summer Lady and Knight," Billy said.

"They looking for trouble?"

Billy grinned and said, "Just come talk to them."

I glowered at him and followed him out to the main room. It was spotless. My furniture is mostly secondhand, sturdy old stuff with a lot of wood and a lot of textured fabrics. It all looked clean too, and there were no stains in it. My rugs, everything from something that could have flown in the skies of mythic Araby to tourist-trap faux Navajo, had also been cleaned and aired out. I checked the floor underneath the rugs. Mopped and scoured clean. The hod had fresh wood in it, and the fireplace had been not only emptied out but swept clean to boot.

My staff and blasting rod were in the corner, gleaming as if they'd been polished, and my gun hung in its holster, freshly oiled. The gun had been polished too.

I went over to the alcove with the stove, sink, and icebox. The icebox was an old-fashioned one that stocked actual ice, given my problems with electricity. It had been cleaned, and new ice put in it. It was packed with neat rows of food-fresh fruits and veggies, juice, Cokes-and there was ice cream in the freezer. My pantry was full of dry foods, canned foods, pasta, sauces. And Mister had a new litterbox, made of wood, lined with plastic, and full of fresh litter. He had a carved wooden bowl as well, and a mate for water, and he had emptied it of food. Mister himself sprawled on the floor, batting idly at a cloth sack of catnip hanging from a string on the pantry door.