“Talk fast,” I advised him. “I suggest we withdraw to the backyard.” Which might actually work, if the witches didn’t think about scanning the grounds too. For now, they halted again, scanning the weapons room under the stairs. That gave us a few precious seconds.

Alex explained our situation succinctly to someone at cop central while rushing onto the back porch with an armful of his toys. He made three trips, the last one with an umbrella he found in the butler’s pantry/coffee bar/tea nook. Eli and I backed slowly away and out onto the side porch and the night mist.

Even with the noise of voices and the vibration of feet, the scan didn’t change in any way. There was no speeding up or slowing down, no brightening or dimming or color change, no more smell of hair burning, just iron and salt on the air, which were unusual enough as witchy scents went. All that stealth had been unnecessary.

And it told me something about the witches. Either they didn’t care that I knew they were scanning my house or they didn’t know that I could tell they were. I was betting on the latter. Which would then mean that they didn’t know I was a skinwalker. Which meant they had been surprised at the magical feel of my body, hence the pain they might not have expected me to feel, and the magical ward in my closet. Which was way too much guesswork. But the weapons room didn’t hold their interest for long. The line of light started progressing after a little over a minute.

I was still barefoot, but in the retreat, Eli found a pair of my flops. They were purple with pink plastic flowers on them and were studded with sparkles and glitter. The thongs were a gift from Deon, Katie’s three-star chef and up-and-coming IT guy, as a way of thanking me for suggesting him for the job. One did not throw away a gift. Even something as ugly as the thongs with bling. I have tiny feet for a six-foot-tall woman, and the flops were way too small for Eli, his heels sticking out behind. The flowers hanging over this toes bounced with each step. I couldn’t help it. A soft titter started in the back of my throat.

“Don’t,” Eli warned.

My laughter spluttered out in a single syllable that was half snort, half interrogative laugh. I caught it before it was more and turned both lips in, biting them to stop the giggles. I took a breath to maintain some form of dignity and managed, “Very stylish. They go so well with the vamp-killer and the nine-mil. You’re so . . . pretty,” I sang out. And then I dissolved in giggles, the song from West Side Story banging around in my head, though I knew well enough not to sing more. “Sorry,” I squeaked. Catching my breath, I said, “I’ll go around back and take the witch over there.” I pointed downtown. “You get the one that way.” I pointed uptown.

“This is not over.”

“Oh. God. I hope not. I want pictures,” I said. I turned on one bare foot and raced around the house. In the distance, I heard two sirens; NOPD’s finest were heading toward us from the general direction of the Eighth District Precinct House.

Knowing that my hilarity had something to do with an unsupported sense of relief that nothing had exploded or caught on fire—yet—I raced to the brick wall on the far side of the yard and leaped. Beast’s power flooded my limbs and she pushed off with me, adding two feet to my jump. I was glad I was no longer hiding my skinwalker abilities, because this would have been hard for a human, even one as fit and pretty as Eli, in his purple flops. The wall had small outthrust brick ends in irregular spots, making it easier to climb than a sheer face, but the brick was wet from the mist. The rain seemed to be growing stronger. In midair, I crashed into the wall and caught a brick with my fingertips, one toe on a tiny toehold. I slipped, the brick rough on my skin. Using the waning momentum, I shoved off again, catching the top of the fence. I levered myself over and dropped down to the other side.

It was what passed for fall in New Orleans, but the air was still warm and muggy, the ground damp and squishy. Only my nose kept me from stepping into dog poo. Fortunately the neighbor’s ugly, hairy yapper dog wasn’t out this time of night. It didn’t like the way I smelled, and kicking a lapdog was bad form and downright mean, no matter how much Beast wanted to play bowling ball with it.

I hadn’t been through the neighbor’s yard in ages, and I slunk around under the dripping banana tree leaves until I was at the front of their house and could see the witches. The rain increased to misty drizzle and ran down my neck and under my T-shirt, and it further obscured the witches. The larger woman with her red magics was only the width of the street away, standing in a tiny patch of grass and dead flowers, less than twenty feet from me. I peeked around the wall and saw the pale green lights of the magical working flicker in the front windows of my house. The squad cars turned onto my street and moved in, blue lights flashing, sirens wailing.

Both witches looked up. I had to move.

The green and red energies of their working snapped and brightened in a blast of force. The flash of witch energies left my eyes burned and blinking as the working snapped to a close. The woman nearest bent as if to pick up something at her feet and the smaller girl slammed into her, moving fast. The rain pelted down; the girl slid. They both almost went down, stumbling from the patch of grass into the road. The rain bent around the obfuscation spells they were hiding under, making them visible as human-shaped shadows for a moment, but the splattering rain kept me from getting a clear look.

The girl screamed, “Go, go, go, go, go, go!”

The larger woman caught her balance and followed the girl, both of them running. The drivers of the NOPD units could see the shadows of them inside the rain-drenched spells, and seemed to assume that a running person was a guilty person. The cars sped after them, toward an alley between two houses, down the street from me, sirens wailing. Lights were coming on in the houses up and down the street. I could see heads peeking through windows.