I know Victor’s good, but this was outstanding, even for him. Eli saw the expression on my face.

“Back door,” he said.

I thought for a moment he was telling me to go to the back of the house, but then realized it was an explanation. Just like programmers will sometimes leave a back door in a program they write, Victor had inserted a back door in the wards so that he could circumvent them at any time. There was no reason for him to do that, but it was just habit, I guess. I had done something similar myself last year, but not nearly as elegant.

Lou and I went round the back and waited. After five minutes, Victor appeared at the back door, Glock in hand, and motioned me inside. The place was trashed, in the familiar fashion, fast food wrappers and garbage strewn over the floor. But Morgan was no slob; I’d been here before. Any doubts I might have had were rapidly disappearing. Whatever had been living here, it wasn’t Morgan.

“Nothing on the ground floor,” he said. “Downstairs next.”

Downstairs was mostly all empty garage, with a small room off to the side that was bare and obviously empty. We climbed back up to the main floor.

“Upstairs,” Victor said.

Only two rooms, the bedroom and the other, were at the top of those stairs. We went in the spare room first, Victor turning left and me turning right. Lou checked under the bed-he’s useful that way. For Victor or me to check, we’d have to get down on our hands and knees and put our heads right next to the floor. Not a great position to be in when you’re looking for something with sharp claws. A quick check of the closet turned up nothing. All clear.

The bedroom was next, and we repeated the drill. Again nothing. I was convinced by now that the shape-shifter wasn’t in the house, but we had to check everything to be sure. Lou checked under the bed again, but this time after looking under it, he turned slowly toward the closet on the back wall. Victor nodded, positioned himself on one side of the closet door, and waved me back as I positioned myself on the other. Of course, if something came bursting out of that closet, it would be between us by the time we reacted. We’d be shooting directly at each other.

I circled back until I was at the end of the bed, directly in front of the closet door, but ten feet away. Not a good position to be in if there was a man with a gun behind the closet door, but not bad at all for intercepting something armed with only teeth and claws. I leveled the shotgun, making sure the safety was off.

Victor held up his right hand and showed three fingers, then clenched his fist. With his left hand, he reached out and grasped the closed door handle. He pumped his right hand three times, shooting out a finger each time, and on the count of three jerked the door open and jumped back.

It was an anticlimax when nothing jumped out. The closet wasn’t that deep, and coats and shirts and blouses on hangers took up every square foot. There wasn’t enough space left to hide a ravenous six-foot-tall monster.

I relaxed and lowered the shotgun, and that was when it burst out of the closet and straight toward me. It was on me before I could raise the gun again, but it wasn’t the Morgan creature. It was the fake Ifrit.

It had been crouched down low, small enough to hide at the base of the closet underneath the hanging clothes. It moved so fast it seemed to be flying through the air as it launched itself toward my unprotected stomach. It didn’t have the huge bearlike claws of the shape-shifter we were hunting, but it was easily capable of disembowel ing me on the spot.

As it leapt off the floor, I heard four flat cracking sounds, and it jerked, seemingly pausing in midair. It gave me just enough time to interpose the shotgun between it and me, like a protective staff. It crashed at my feet and, snarling, tried to rise again, but Victor took three quick steps over to where I stood and carefully put four more shots into it as it lay there. It jerked again, gave one last burbling snarl, and finally lay still.

Eli burst into the room seconds later, Sherwood a step behind. He saw the fake Ifrit lying dead on the floor and stopped in surprise.

“Not what we expected,” I said.

Victor walked over and prodded it with the toe of his shoe.

“Good riddance, though.”

“Yeah. Nice shooting. But did you happen to notice I was directly in the line of fire? A slight miss and I’d have been lying on the floor alongside it.”

“I don’t miss,” Victor said. The smallest hint of a smile flitted across his face. “At least, not often.”

I supposed he was right. The other option would have been for him to wait for an opening, and after that for me to pick up my entrails and try to stuff them back in my stomach.

“Is that the fake Ifrit?” Sherwood asked. Unlike the rest of us, she hadn’t seen it before. I nodded, but couldn’t answer her next question. “But what was it doing here?”

Eli looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure, but I think it found the shape-shifter and attached itself to her-in much the same way a true Ifrit might find a practitioner and do the same. Then it stayed here to guard the house, another base of operations for her, as a faithful ally. That might also be why we haven’t seen it for a while-it went to ground here. The real question is, where is the shape-shifter now?”

“Not here, obviously,” Victor said.

“So what next?” I asked, but he just shook his head.

We looked around the house, hoping to find a lead, but apart from the garbage strewn about, there was nothing. I’d assumed we’d find the remains of Morgan’s body somewhere in the house, but there was no sign of her, either. We finally gave up and left the house. We drove back to Victor’s, but by the time we reached his house, we had our lead. Lounging casually against the side of my van, waiting for us, was the Wendigo.

“WELL, GREETINGS, FELLOW TRAVELERS,” HE SAID. “Fancy running into you here.” He noticed Lou, who was looking at him with some distaste. “I see you found Lou,” he said to me. “Nice work.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Is that any way to talk to a friend? No thank-you for my troubles?”

“Thanks,” I said grudgingly. He had helped, but the memory of his pushing me into the energy pool was not a pleasant one. “I do appreciate that.”

“De nada.” He waited for me to say something more, then pouted when I remained silent. Finally he shrugged. “You were out looking for the other shape-shifter, weren’t you? Any luck?”

“What’s that to you?” Victor said.

“Nothing, really. I just thought I might be of some help.”

“And why would you want to help us?”

Eli, who usually smooths over such confrontations, watched and said nothing.

“Well, I don’t, actually. Not you, specifically. But Mason’s not so bad. Almost a kindred spirit. And I’ve decided I like it here.” He pushed himself away from the van. “I was getting bored; now I’m not. But I do want to blend in, and the less trouble, the better. Trouble has a way of expanding outward, and pulling innocent bystanders-like myself-into its orbit.”

“Terrific,” said Victor. He wasn’t impressed by this explanation, but I made a small “cool it” gesture with my hand. I saw no point in antagonizing the Wendigo. He surely had his own agenda, but he could also be a great help.

“Yeah,” I said. “We were out looking for it, but it’s gone to earth. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you know where it is?”

“Not right at this moment, no. But I can point you in the right direction.”

“That would be helpful indeed,” Eli said mildly, finally speaking up.

Victor shook his head in disgust and turned away. He wanted nothing to do with another uncanny creature. The Wendigo looked over at him.

“I get the feeling you don’t much care for me,” he said. “I’m hurt, deeply wounded.”