Sweeping the broom in a complete clockwise circle all the way around my house, I repeatedly chanted:

“By sun and moon, intentions pure,

Isis make my home secure.”

When I returned to the book and keys, I leaned my broom against the house and said, “As above, so below, my circle is sealed, so mote it be.”

On my knees, with my hands on the ground, fingers curled in the grass, I called to the ley line. The nearby power thrummed softly in my fingertips—something like being near a stream you can hear, but not see. With the energy line, though, I “heard” it with all my being. Imagining my spirit self stretching across the distance, I held my hand near the flow. Strong, as usual. Vibrant. I cupped my hand and stuck it into the flow. My arm went numb up to the elbow. My every nerve sizzled as before, but the sensation quickly shifted from heated almost-pain to dull warmth, like being on the edge of drunk.

Yes, this could be very dangerous.

I pulled some of that power into me, feeling the thrumming grow strong, roiling and stretching through me as if trying me on for size. Quickly, I dumped it into my clockwise path around the house.

“Walls and windows, beams and boards,

Let no one unwanted through my doors.

Alarms resound and protect me

Should anyone try forced entry.”

After I’d repeated it three times, I could feel the energy approaching from the other side of the circle. I pulled my cupped spirit-hand from the ley line and continued pouring the power out until the pathway was full. “So mote it be.” With my spirit-hand empty, gooseflesh rose over my skin. I shivered.

Taking up the keys, I removed four from the ring. Making another clockwise circuit, I shoved one down into the ground, pushing it deep below the grass on the east side of the house.

“This energy now is keyed to this house, keyed to me.

My wærewolf friends remain untouched and move freely.”

I repeated the process, placing keys at the south side under the porch, at the west side by the garage, and, back at the beginning, on the north side. With each key I placed, each repeat of the phrase, the flow of the energy increased. By the time I was done, it was swirling fast and powerful.

When my shift ended and Erik relieved me, my tired body had just enough energy to make it to my new room, where I changed into my pajamas and melted into a human puddle on the air mattress as quietly as I could so as not to disturb Beverley.

I awoke at two A.M., feeling uneasy, and it had nothing to do with the air mattress under me or the lasagna or the wine. The waning moon was a gibbous beacon outside, offering a night-light—level glow to this room. Lying still, ears perked, I listened. All I could hear was Johnny and Erik in the next room. Erik was on call with Theo, but he and Johnny were talking about the songs for the CD they were about to go into the studio to cut. I heard the words “Deep Lycanthropia” several times, as well as things like “got the lyrics, but not a chorus or title” and “maybe a bridge here.”

Suddenly an alarm went off in my head like a slow police siren.

The unease was my new perimeter wards signaling—damn! I hadn’t used this kind of spell before, so I hadn’t realized the unease was the alarm. Now I knew. The siren in my head was definitely a break-in, but the sluggishness of its whine told me the culprit was aware of the wards, had tried to counter them, and probably thought he or she had been successful at it.

It couldn’t be Goliath. As a vampire, he’d have to be invited in, but he could have witch friends who would try to counter a ward spell.

I threw back the covers and slipped from the bed, silently opened the door, and tiptoed across the hall, stepping on the sides where the boards didn’t squeak. I couldn’t just release the alarm throbbing in my head; if I did, whoever was breaking in would sense it and know I had been alerted and had shut it down. If I let the alarm continue, they would think that their counterspell had reduced it so much I wouldn’t notice it as anything more than a ringing in the ears.

Pushing open the door to Theo’s dimly lit room, I stepped in, and the men turned to me with wide eyes. Only then did it hit me that I was wearing only red panties and a red tank top with a stylized lion rampant.

“Red,” Johnny said, his voice tellingly breathless.

“Damn it! Look at my face,” I whispered harshly. “The perimeter wards I placed earlier woke me up, and now my house wards are alarming. Someone’s breaking in. And they’re doing it in such a way that they think they’re countering my wards.” Both men stood immediately. “Wait! You have to step quietly and not let them know you’re on to them.”

“Them? How many?”

I made a face. “I can’t tell. Might be just one, might be several.”

“Do you have a gun?” Erik asked.

A strangled laugh tried to escape my mouth. “No.” My baseball bat was still behind the door in the kitchen.

They shared a look, and Johnny whispered, “Follow me.”

I grabbed his arm. “The boards squeak more in the middles. Try to stay to one side or the other.”

He led Erik out into the hall. Beverley and Nana were sleeping. Celia, on the third floor, was also asleep. I stood in the doorway wondering what to do. I wanted to follow them, but if they were unsuccessful, I was all that stood between whomever was coming in and Theo. But it was me and Theo whom the intruder probably wanted most.

I couldn’t stay there. I grabbed a black silk robe from the back of my door and knotted the belt. On my way out the door, I had a thought. I grabbed the syringe of morphine that had been readied for Theo’s next dose and went down the steps.

After living here for more than two years, I knew this house well. But in the dark, with adrenaline pumping and my ears distracted from real sounds by the sirens in my head, every dark shadow held ominous possibilities.

When my foot hit the foyer floor, I heard a shout and a thud from the kitchen. A scuffle ensued. In Nana’s room, Poopsie—I mean Ares—began to bark. I released the wards, knowing the jig was up, and ran to the kitchen, ready to give an injection. Someone hit the light before I could get there, though, and blinded me for a second. I held back to let my eyes adjust.

A familiar voice growled, and I heard a splash of water followed by the thudding of two heavy bodies dropping to my floor, one snoring. I stepped deeper into the shadowed corner.

Vivian stepped past me. In a flash, I lunged forward, sank the needle into her neck above her coat collar, and pushed the plunger to release the morphine.

She screamed and twisted. I felt a jolt, but I stayed with her and rode her to the floor, hearing my silk robe rip. A pop-top water bottle skidded down the hall. I thought I had her pinned with my body, but she pushed off of the floor, rolling. The move flipped me off of her. Her strength confirmed to me that she was indeed “stained.”

I pounced back onto her, hands grabbing her hair and using my weight to push her down and crack her head on the floor. She shouted again, jerking away. I felt some of her hair give, but my grasp stayed firm. Kicking at me, she connected with my shoulder, and the impact made my grip weaken enough that she rolled free and rose up before me. I could still see the syringe sticking out of her neck. She stretched back, reaching to remove it. I’d missed a vein, clearly, but it was in her. It had to have some effect, right?

“You bitch!” She threw the syringe to the floor and stepped forward, swaying.

Standing, I put my fists up before me. Breathing heavily but ready for a brawl, I snarled, “You’re breaking into my house, and I’m the bitch?”

She staggered to the side. “It’s mine. I’m not leaving without it.”

“Without what?”

Her eyes rolled up, and her knees buckled. I don’t think she felt her skull hit the floor.