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myself to speak, the pipes from the upstairs
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    shower rattle above us. I turn back to the oven, out of my trance. I'm overanalyzing things, as usual.
    "What are you making, then?" Silas asks, voice back to normal.
    "Um... meatloaf." The sexiest of foods.
    "It smells great," Silas replies kindly. I look over my shoulder at him and smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a gray blur dart from the stairwell to the living room couch, accompanied by the tinkling of bells.
    "Is that my arch-nemesis I hear?" Silas asks, turning toward the blur.
    "Screwtape? Yep."
    "I wonder if he still hates me," Silas says as the cat edges out from the couch, pale green eyes like little limes in the dark. As if to answer Silas's question, Screwtape takes a flying leap onto his lap and begins to purr wildly.
    "I'm not falling for this anymore, cat," Silas says firmly. He moves to push Screwtape away, but as soon as his palms are within a few inches of Screwtape's wild fur, the cat extends his claws into Silas's thighs. Silas winces and muffles a yelp.
    "Need some help?" I say, trying to hide my laughter.
    "That'd be great," he answers tensely. I hurry over and scoop Screwtape into my arms. The cat instantly melts against me and rubs his face against mine, the scent of catnip on his breath. I crinkle my nose.
    "Thanks." Silas sighs in relief. "I can hunt wolves, but it's a cat I can't handle. Not terribly manly of me, is it?"
    "I won't tell anyone," I answer with a soft smile that he
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    returns. The oven buzzer rings out behind me; I hurry over to whip the Sexy Meatloaf out of the heat.
    Scarlett trudges down the stairs, fresh from her shower. If you don't take one right after a hunt, the scent of the Fenris somehow gets into your skin and sticks around for ages. Her hair is pulled off her face and the eye patch is gone. There's a long, diagonal scar where her eye would be that slices from the crown of her head across her high cheekbones. She'd never admit it, but I know she's self-conscious about the scar. In fact, I can remember her taking the eye patch off only around me and Silas. She gives me a sort of apologetic look, but I glance away.
    "TV?" Silas asks her. Scarlett nods in response and Silas turns on our tiny television to the news, as if he'd never left.
    We begin to eat while Scarlett watches the television intently until a story about a rash of Atlanta murders is over. Most of the world isn't on to the Fenris, even though they've apparently been around for centuries, but you can learn more about them than you'd expect by watching a newscast. Some people see a string of murders or a strange disappearance as a lunatic on the loose, but we see a Fenris being sloppy. But the truth is, usually a Fenris attack in disguise doesn't even make the news, unless the girl is particularly beautiful or her family particularly rich; it's just written off, another statistic of a missing young woman.
    When the report turns to some political sex scandal, Scarlett turns the set off and looks at Silas. "You want to start
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    hunting with us again, now that you're back?" The question carries a heavy intensity, and if I were Silas, I'd be afraid to say no.
    I'm not sure what answer I'm hoping for. I've gone hunting with Silas a thousand times before, but in the past, I usually ended up standing in the background while he and Scarlett fought together, a blur of movement and ferocity that I've never felt able to match. Will that have changed, as Silas has?
    Silas shrugs. "Sure. Especially if you're finding them in a place as small as Ellison. That must mean there are too many wolves in all the nearby cities."
    Silas talks about San Francisco, so avidly that I think he's trying to fill the air with words before it can be consumed with awkward silences. I don't know why I feel those silences lurking all around us, but every time Silas and I make eye contact, I can sense them there, waiting to slip in and make me blush. I try to avoid his eyes, stealing