Since the last attack, Trey shifted his schedule so when Sonya hit the gym, so did he. Because she understood his reasoning, she didn’t mind, not really. But it did remove that solid hour of me time.

Plus.

“You’re over there bench-pressing five hundred pounds, and I’m over here curling fifteen. It’s demoralizing.”

He finished his last rep, racked the weights. “One-fifty, and I’m bigger than you, cutie.”

When he went with thirty for curls, she repeated, “Demoralizing. But you make up for it looking all sexy when you flex and sweat.”

“Back at you there.”

“I’m about finished sweating sexy for the day. It’s cooldown stretch time for me.”

He had to admit, he did enjoy watching her bend and stretch.

He finished his reps, was about to stretch it out himself.

The Gold Room bell clanged.

“Looks like somebody woke up. Been a while.”

“It’s colder in here.”

“Yeah, I feel it.” Calm as a lake, he did a biceps stretch. “If you’re done, go on up. I just need a few more minutes.”

“You stay, I stay.”

As he continued to stretch, more bells rang.

“Sounds like she’s hitting them all.” Trying to mirror his calm, Sonya bent her leg, held her foot to her butt for a quad stretch. “She hasn’t done that one before.”

The music changed from upbeat to a hard, harsh drumming. And the volume soared.

“Just being a nuisance.” Trey shrugged his shoulders, then stretched his triceps.

Baiting her, Sonya realized. She steadied herself, braced herself. She could do the same.

“It’s getting easier to ignore her tantrums. I used to babysit for this two-year-old boy who threw more impressive ones.”

A dumbbell tumbled off the rack, rolled toward her.

Sonya sidestepped it as another hit the floor.

The exercise bands sprang off their hooks, flew through the air.

When Trey caught one on the fly, it hissed.

When it snapped toward his face, he used his other hand to force it back, then both to twist it, tie it at the handles.

Sonya grabbed for another and barely avoided a twenty-pound weight that sped toward her, end over end.

“We get a little more of a workout.” Trey snagged the band himself, looped it around the other, tied it off.

To Sonya’s fascinated horror, the bands wiggled, seemed to snap at each other. Trey hooked his hands under her elbows, lifted her up when another weight rolled.

The wall screen came on in a curtain of blood, with piercing screams behind it.

He felt her shiver, not from fear—or not much of it, he decided. But from the bitter cold.

The lights flashed on and off, on and off. The doorbell bonged, echoed, and bonged again. Doors slammed like gunshots, and the sound of the dogs barking answered.

“Trey, Cleo’s upstairs. She’s alone.”

“We’ll go.”

The door resisted him, then swung open so fast he narrowly avoided a hard hit to the face. Then nearly lost his grip as it tried to slam again.

“Go.”

He had to bear down with all he had to keep it open for her. Sonya put her weight against it to help as he slid through the opening.

The newly installed pinball machine rang and clanged. Gorgar’s throaty voice shouted: Beat you! Beat you!

Sonya might have run, but Trey held her arm and walked at an easy pace toward the steps.

On the steps, tendrils of smoke curled up between the treads. Sonya heard the wood sizzle as the servants’ door swung open, slammed shut.

“It’s not real,” Trey murmured to her. “They’re your steps, in your house.”

She hesitated when she saw a flame lick up between the treads. Then she heard Cleo scream. That was all it took to have her bounding up.

At the top, Trey outpaced her.

From the library came the screams and wails of the tortured and books flew like missiles. All the doors bowed out, and behind them roars sounded. Both dogs scrabbled at Cleo’s door, issuing guttural warning barks.

Blood trickled through widening cracks in the walls.

Just ahead of her, Trey shoved against Cleo’s door. Through the terrible sounds inside, Cleo screamed again.

“Don’t touch the knob!” he snapped when Sonya reached for it. “She’s iced it. I’m going to try to break the door down.”

As he stepped back to kick, everything stopped.

“Wait!” After yanking off his shirt, Trey wrapped it around his hand, turned the knob.

The second the door opened, Sonya ran through.

Cleo lay on the floor, the cat caught in one arm. Sonya all but dived down to her.

“Cleo, Cleo.” Sonya pulled her up to cradle as the dogs milled around them, whining, licking.

“Give her some room. Come on, boys, get back.” Trey crouched. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, but the gesture was more confusion than denial. Her gorgeous face had gone sick and gray with her eyes too wide and bright against it.

Her windows, all opened, let in the blowing chill of late October. Trey straightened, pulled a blanket from the bed. “Put this over her.”

He tossed the blanket to Sonya, and despite the stench in the room, shut the windows.

“Let’s get you up on the bed.”

Curled into Sonya, she shook her head at Trey. “No, God, the smell. Downstairs. Hot drink. So damn cold.”

“I’ve got you. I’ve got her,” he said to Sonya as he lifted Cleo into his arms. “Go down, get some tea going. Strong. Can you tell if you’re hurt?”

“I don’t think so.” But she let her head fall onto Trey’s shoulder. “Cold. Winded. Shaken up. It—it sounded like the house was falling down around me.”

“It’s still standing.” He pressed a kiss to her hair.

“Everybody’s okay. Nobody’s hurt. I don’t even know what time it is.”

“Just after eight.”

“God, one more thing to hate her for.”

In the kitchen, Sonya had the kettle on, and a mug of coffee waiting.

“To warm you up until the tea’s ready. In the dining room, Trey. The fire’s bigger there.”

When Trey set her down, the cat settled in her lap, and the dogs flanked her chair.

“Drink that, get your breath back. Does anything hurt?”

“I think I fell mostly on my ass. Maybe rapped my head a little.”

Moving behind her, Trey ran his fingers through her clouds of hair, checking for injury.

“Not hard enough to bring up a lump.”

“Lucky me.” Cleo closed her eyes, sipped. “I just need another minute.”

From the tablet, the Eagles sang “Take It Easy.”

“That’s right. Take it easy. There’s the kettle.”

“The ashwagandha, Son.”

“The what?”

Cleo smiled a little at Trey as Sonya walked back to the kitchen. “It’s good for stress, anxiety, emotional trauma. Sonya knows.”

“Okay then.” Trey laid a hand on Cleo’s shoulder, relieved she no longer shivered. “I’m going to put these guys out awhile.”

“I heard them barking. It helped knowing they were there.” Closing her eyes, Cleo stroked the cat, who stayed in her lap. “She’s fine here.”

“We let the dogs out when we went down to the gym,” Sonya murmured as Trey led them to the door.

“I know. Somebody let them back in to try to help.”

Metallica roared out with “The House Jack Built.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

While the tea steeped, Sonya made more coffee.

She brought it all in, then nudged what was left of Cleo’s coffee aside. “Half a teaspoon of honey, just the way you like it.”

“Thanks. And thanks for the lift down, Trey. I don’t think my legs would’ve handled it.”

“You tell us,” Sonya suggested, “then we’ll tell you. What happened, Cleo?”

“A rude awakening. I’m sound asleep, and the next thing I know, I’m floating three feet in the air.

Then the banging, the crashing, the fire’s roaring like a furnace, but the room’s cold as a meat locker.

Noise everywhere. Blood running down the walls, then she dropped me.

I think I screamed before it knocked the breath out of me. Pye’s hissing, her back’s arched.”

She sipped some tea, then squeezed Sonya’s hand. “Just exactly the way I like it. I was going to go down, find you, because it was everywhere, the banging, the bonging, the howling. Then the windows slammed open, and I saw it. I saw it coming.”

Unable to stop the shudder, she paused.

“That bird of hers,” Cleo continued. “And the windows were open this time. I’ve tried putting some protection around the house, but I’m no Imogene Tamura. I didn’t have the damn BB gun.”

She paused, drank more tea. Steadier for it, she continued.

“I got up, fast as I could, and grabbed my labradorite ball. The big one. About softball size,” she told Trey. “It’s coming, and I knew I’d never get to the door even if I could get out. So I threw it, just as that thing came through the window. I screamed and I threw it as hard as I could.

“It went right through it.” Stopping, she shivered, drank more tea. “I saw it go right through, and I thought—at least I think I did—maybe it can’t kill me, but it’s going to do some serious damage. And that bastard’s going to kill my cat.”

She set down the tea, covered her face with her hands.

“Jesus, holy Jesus.”

Rising, Sonya wrapped her arms around Cleo.

“It poofed. Oh God, the stench. It went to smoke. It couldn’t have been a foot away from me. I went down. Legs gave way. Everything gave way. I heard you calling, but I couldn’t get air for a minute. Then everything stopped, and you were there. You were both there. And the dogs.”

She sighed, gave Sonya a squeeze, then eased back. “I really loved that crystal ball.”

“You said it went through the bird. Did it go out the window?”

She frowned at Trey. “I don’t know. I guess … yes.”

“I’ll go find it.”

“Oh, do you think … Thanks.”

“No problem. Sonya will fill you in on our part of it.”

“No damage,” Sonya began. “To either of us.”

Cleo listened, sipping tea while Clover hit it with Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust.”

“You made fun of her. That was smart, and that was brave.”

“Trey started it. And he never flinched. It’s easier to be brave when you’re standing there with a man who just doesn’t flinch. Then we heard you scream. When we got to your room, he was going to break down the door. You know how thick those doors are? But I swear, I think he could’ve done it.”