Dorothy was right. There's no place like home.

It would have been terribly rude to tell Rita she had snuffled long enough, but I had been through an awful lot, including starvation, and the smell that filled the house was setting off a frenzy in my guts that made the overdose of ecstasy look tame. Rita's roast pork was a great work of art that could have made a statue lunge off its pedestal and cry, "Yummy!" So after I managed to disengage myself and dry my shoulder, I thanked her profusely and headed straight for the table, with only a brief pause to see Lily Anne and count her fingers and toes, just to make sure they were all still there.

And so we sat around the table, looking like a perfect family portrait, and it occurred to me how deceptive pictures can be. At the head of the table, of course, sat Dex-Daddy, a true monster trying to be a little more human. At his left was Brother Brian, a far worse monster and still completely unrepentant; and across from him sat two fresh-faced, innocent-seeming children, who wanted nothing more than to be just like their wicked uncle. And all of them wearing totally fake expressions of the deepest, most mundane humanity possible. It would have made a wonderful subject for Norman Rockwell, especially if he was feeling particularly sardonic.

Dinner went its tasty way, the silence broken mostly by lip smacking, moans of pleasure, and Lily Anne demanding to be fed, probably overcome by the smell and sound of the pork roast. Rita would occasionally shatter the silence with small non sequiturs of concern, rambling on until someone held out their plate for more-which we all did several times, except Lily Anne. And as the meal meandered on to its end and we proved again that "leftover roast pork" was an oxymoron in our house, I was very glad indeed to have returned in one piece to my little nest.

The feeling of bloated satisfaction continued, even after dinner, when Cody and Astor stampeded for the Wii and a game that involved killing awful-looking monsters, and I sat on the couch burping Lily Anne while Rita cleaned up. Brian sat next to me, and we watched the kids absentmindedly for a while before Brian finally spoke.

"Well," he said at last. "So you survived your run-in with the coven."

"Apparently," I said.

He nodded and, as Cody obliterated a very nasty-looking creature, Brian called out, "Good one, Cody!" After a moment he turned back to me and said, "And have they caught the head witch yet?"

"George Kukarov," I said. "He was shot and killed on the scene."

"The man who ran that club, Fang?" he said, with surprise in his voice.

"That's right," I said. "And I have to say it was a very good shot, and just in time."

Brian was silent for a minute, and then said, "I always thought the head of a coven had to be a woman."

This was the second time tonight someone had argued with me about this, and I was a little tired of hearing about it. "It really isn't my problem," I said. "Deborah and her task force will round up the rest of them."

"Not if she thinks that Kukarov guy is the leader," he said.

Lily Anne erupted with a small but explosive belch, and I felt it soak slowly through the towel and into my shirt as she settled her head down and nodded off to sleep. "Brian," I said. "I have spent a very bad day with these people, and I'm all done. I don't care if the real leader of the coven is a man, or a woman, or a two-headed lizard from the Planet Nardone. It's Deborah's problem, and I'm all done with it-and why do you care, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't care," he said. "But you're my little brother. Naturally I'm interested."

And I might have said something else, something really cutting, but Astor overwhelmed any possible response with an anguished wail of "Nooooooo!" and we both jerked around to look at the TV screen, just in time to see the little golden-haired figure that represented her on-screen being eaten by a monster. Cody said, "Ha," quietly but triumphantly, and raised his controller; the game went on, and I thought no more about witches, covens, and my brother's interest in them.

The evening wound relentlessly on to its conclusion. I found myself yawning, hugely and loudly, and even though it was a little bit embarrassing, I could not stop myself. Of course, the dreadful ordeal I had been through was taking its toll on my poor battered system, and I am sure that roast pork is loaded with tryptophan or something like it. Perhaps it was the combination, but whatever the case it soon became plain to all that Dex-Daddy was on the ropes and about to join Lily Anne in Dreamland.

And just as I was about to excuse myself from the delightful company-several of whom would not have noticed, judging from their concentration on the video game-the swelling notes of "Ride of the Valkyries" began to pour out of Brian's cell phone. He pulled it from its holster and glanced at it, frowning, and almost immediately stood up and said, "Oh, darn. I'm afraid I have to leave at once, as delightful as the company may be."

"It may be," Astor muttered, watching Cody rack up points on the screen, "but it isn't yet."

Brian gave her his large and phony smile. "It is for me, Astor," he said. "It's family. But," he said, and the smile got wider, "duty calls, and I have to go to work."

"It's night," Cody said without looking up.

"Yes, it is," Brian said. "But sometimes I have to work at night." And he looked at me happily, almost as if he was about to wink at me, and my curiosity overcame my sleepiness.

"What kind of work are you doing right now?" I asked him.

"Service industry," he said. "And I really do have to go." He patted me on the shoulder, the one that Lily Anne wasn't using, and said, "And I'm sure you need your sleep after all you've been through."

I yawned again, which made it pointless to deny that I really did need sleep. "I think you're right," I said, and I stood up. "I'll walk you out."

"No need," Brian said, and headed for the kitchen. "Rita? I thank you again for another wonderful meal and a delightful evening."

"Oh," Rita said, and she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "But it's still early, and-Did you want some coffee? Or maybe-"

"Alas," Brian said, "I really do have to leave posthaste."

"What does that mean?" Astor said. " 'Posthaste'?"

Brian winked at her. "It means, quick as a mailman," he said, and he turned back to Rita and gave her a clumsy hug. "Many thanks, dear lady, and good night."

"I'm just so sorry that-I mean, it is getting a bit late for work, and you-Maybe a new job? Because this isn't really-"

"I know," Brian said. "But this job actually matches my skill set perfectly." He looked at me, and I felt a cold nausea burble up in the pit of my stomach. He had only one skill that I knew of, and as far as I knew, nobody would pay him for it. "And," he went on to Rita, "it does have its compensations, and at the moment I do need to do it. And so, a fond farewell to one and all," he said, and he raised his hand, presumably in fond farewell, and headed for the door.

"Brian," I said to his back, and I had to stop as another real jaw-creaker of a yawn took control of my entire body.

Brian turned back with a raised eyebrow. "Dexter?" he said.

I tried to remember what I had been about to say, but another yawn hammered it out of my head. "Nothing," I said. "Good night."

Once again his terrible fake smile stretched across his face. "Good night, brother," he said. "Get some sleep." And he opened the front door and was gone into the night.

"Well," Rita said. "Brian really is getting to be one of the family."

I nodded, and I could feel myself sway slightly, as if nodding my head might overcome my balance and pitch me face-forward onto the floor. "Yes, he is," I said, and of course I punctuated it with a yawn.