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said.
    I shook my head. “But you’re not going to because you are a mild-mannered science teacher, not an alpha werewolf.”
    “Which is why you get to help me,” he said.
    “Are you having trouble undoing the rope?” Mrs. Pringle asked. She’d walked back to us with Custard in tow.
    “No,” I said, giving Richard a look. “We’ve got the rope.” If people found out Richard was a lycanthrope, he’d lose his job. It was illegal to discriminate, but it happened all the time. Richard taught children. He’d be branded a monster, and most people didn’t let monsters near their children.
    Mrs. Pringle and Custard led the way. I went up backwards, sort of steadying the box, but Richard took all the weight. Hewalked up the stairs like the box weighed nothing, pushing with his legs, waiting for me to go up another step. He made a face at me, soundlessly humming under his breath as if he was bored. Lycanthropes are stronger than your run-of-the-mill human being. I knew that, but it was still a little unsettling to be reminded.
    We made it to the hallway, and he let me have some of the weight. The thing was heavy, but I held on, and we kept moving towards Mrs. Pringle’s apartment, which was right across the hall from mine.
    “I’ve got the door opened,” she called.
    We were at the door, starting to maneuver through, when Custard darted between us, underneath the box, trailing his leash. Mrs. Pringle was trapped behind the television. “Custard, come back here.”
    Richard lifted with his forearms, taking the weight. “Get him. I can get inside.”
    I let him pretend to struggle inside the apartment and went for the dog. I expected to have to chase him down the hall, but he was sniffing at my door, whining. I knelt and grabbed the end of his leash, pulling him back towards me.
    Mrs. Pringle was at her door, smiling. “I see you caught the little rascal.”
    I handed her the leash. “I’ve got to get something out of my apartment. I’m sure Richard can help you set up the TV.”
    “Thanks a lot,” he called from inside the apartment.
    Mrs. Pringle laughed. “I’ll give you both some iced tea, unless you have better things to do.” There was a knowing look in her blue eyes that made me blush. She winked at me, I kid you not. When the door was safely closed with her and Richard on the other side, I walked toward my apartment. Three doors down, I crossed the hallway. I took the Browning out and clicked the safety off. I eased back towards my door. Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe Custard hadn’t smelled anybody in my apartment. But he’d never whined at my door like that before. Maybe Edward’s phone call was making me jumpy. But better jumpy than dead. Paranoid it was.
    I knelt by the door and took a breath, letting it out slowly. I took my keys out of my jacket pocket left-handed. I scrunched down as low as I could get and still have a decent shooting stance. If there was a bad guy in there, he’d probablyshoot at chest level. On my knees I was a lot shorter than chest level. I pushed the key in the lock. Nothing happened. The apartment was probably empty, except for my fish wondering what the hell I was doing. I turned the knob, pushed the door inward, and a hole exploded out through the door, thundering over my head like a cannon shot. There was no sound for a second. The door swung closed with the force of the shot, and through the hole in the door I saw a man with a shotgun raised to his shoulder. I fired once through the hole. The door bounced open, still reverberating from the shotgun blast. I threw myself onto one side, gun pointed through the open door.
    The shotgun fired again, showering the hallway with bits of wood. I fired twice more, hitting the man in the chest both times. He staggered, blood blossoming on his coat, and fell straight back. The shotgun fell to the carpet near his feet.
    I got to my knees, back pressed to the wall near my kitchenette. All I could hear was a roaring in my