Her men did not allow the apparent innocuousness of the abode to lull them. Their revolving rifles were held at the ready; half pointed at the door the other half pointed in other directions in case of surprise attack. Most had done this before, and they all knew it was a rare day when a witch wanted to go quietly. The werehounds had bent to their forepaws as well, anticipating the order to charge their quarry.

            Sonja drew her pistol and fired into the air. The sharp crack of the gunshot scared a flock of birds into flight but none in her group even flinched. As the last echoes faded, Sonja inhaled then spoke in a voice that was far louder than he...

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