Josh stepped into the darkened hallway and pressed flat against the wall, waiting until his eyes had adjusted to the gloom. Last week he wouldn’t have known to do that, but then, last week he wouldn’t have run into a house after an intruder. He would have done the sensible thing and dialed 911. He reached into the umbrella stand behind the door and lifted out one of his aunt’s thick walking sticks. It wasn’t Clarent, but it would have to do.

Josh remained still, head tilted to one side, listening. Where was the stranger?

There was a creak on the landing and a young-looking man in a simple black suit, white shirt and narrow black tie came hurrying down the stairs. He slowed when he spotted Josh, but didn’t stop. He smiled, yet it seemed more of a reflex than a voluntary gesture-it didn’t move past his lips. Now that the man was closer, Josh saw that he was Asian; Japanese, maybe?

Josh stepped forward, the walking stick stretched out in front of him like a sword. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Past you or through you, makes no difference to me,” the man said in English tinged with a strong Japanese accent.

“What are you doing here?” Josh demanded.

“Looking for someone,” the man answered simply.

The intruder came off the bottom step into the hall and moved to walk out the front door, but Josh barred his route with the stick. “Not so fast. You owe me an answer.”

The black-suited man grabbed the stick, yanked it from Josh’s grip and snapped it across his knee. Josh grimaced; that had to hurt. The man tossed the two pieces on the floor. “I owe you nothing, but you should be thankful that I am in a good mood today.”

There was something in the man’s voice that made Josh step back. Something cold and calculating that made him suddenly wonder if the man was entirely human. Josh stood in the doorway and watched the man move lightly down the steps. He was reaching for the car door when he spotted the back tire.

Sophie smiled and waggled her fingers at him. “Looks like you have a puncture.”

Josh hurried down the steps and joined his sister and their aunt. “Josh,” Agnes said querulously, “what is going on?” Her gray eyes were huge behind thick glasses.

The rear passenger window eased down a fraction and the Japanese man spoke urgently into it, gesturing toward the tire.

Abruptly the door opened and a young woman climbed out. She was dressed in a beautifully tailored black suit over a white silk shirt. There were black leather gloves on her hands and a pair of tiny round black sunglasses perched on her nose. But it was her spiky red hair and pale freckled skin that gave her away.

“Scathach!” both Sophie and Josh cried in delight.