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fur.
    The cat finished and raised its head. When their eyes met, Mandy was fascinated. The eyes had a slightly sinister quality, the way they gazed so steadily back at her. They were sharply intelligent. The cat nosed her hand. It was silent; she could not seem to get it to purr, almost as if it was too independent for such an abject expression of gratitude.
    “Are you still hungry?”
    It stiffened, looked behind and above her. With the silence and grace of an angel it leaped over her head and into the hallway that led from the bedrooms to the sun porch. It was an amazing jump. “Kitty?”
    From the direction of her bedroom there came a loud meow, sharp with beckoning. Mandy stood up, feeling a twinge of fear in her confusion, and followed the animal.
    Questions. How could a mere cat jump like that? And where had it come from? And what sort of cat was it?
    And wasn’t it beautiful, sharp-faced and glowing, lying on the foot of her bed, beckoning her with one open eye?
    Fleas?
    Ringworm?
    Fever?
    A meow, as soft as some heavenward breeze. And she was tired. She slipped into her bed. “You be a good watchcat, now.”
    Almost as if drugged, she slept. She dreamed she was Alice, falling forever down the dark well of Wonderland.

Chapter 3
    George dumped the bedroll he had brought up from his car onto the floor of the lab.
    “What the hell is this? You going camping?”
    “Living here is the only certain way to guard this lab. Brother Pierce has flunkies at the sheriffs office. To be safe, we have to assume he’s also got them among the campus cops.”
    “I hadn’t thought of that.” Clark touched the bedroll with his toe. “I suppose you’re right.”
    “I am right. This is Pierce’s town, not Constance’s—a fact which we ignore at our peril.”
    “Constance was unhappy to hear what happened. She sends you a good wish.”
    “Why not an effective spell against that cretin? I’m telling you, Clark, Connie’s got to either support me or abandon me. There’s no middle territory with this.”
    Clark looked steadily at him. “I think a little equivocation is inevitable, given the personal consequences she faces if you succeed.”
    George sighed. He couldn’t really blame Constance Collier. He understood why she rejected him; his work involved the transfer of power at the Covenstead. Of course it was hard for Connie. One leaf falls, another takes its place. The trees persists, but for the blazing leaf autumn is a catastrophe.
    “She has to accept it. She’s getting old. God, they initiated her with a bullet to the head. She should be glad that science might take the risk out of it for Amanda.”
    “Nothing will take the risk out of it. The risk is on the other side. You might ensure that the body will come alive again, but nobody can be certain that the soul will find its way back.”
    “So Connie says. But at least the inheritor’s soul will have a body to return to. In the past that often wasn’t the case.”
    “The problem is, they don’t always want to come back.”
    “Well, that isn’t our concern. We’re only responsible for the body. Speaking of which, let’s get to work and see if this lab’s been booby-trapped or what.”
    Clark moved to his station. He began testing their most important pieces of equipment, the devices that killed and restarted the intercranial electrical field. With this apparatus they were learning to turn brains on and off like electric switches. “How seriously booby-trapped?”
    George went to him. “A problem?”
    “Not yet. It just occurred to me that it might blow up in my face. A booby trap could be a bomb, if they’re really serious.”
    “Surely even Simon Pierce isn’t a terrorist.” When he thought about it, though, George wondered if they might not be in greater danger than he had realized.
    Clark obviously shared his concern. “They’ve killed more than one witch, George.”
    “The Gregorys?” It was supposed to have been an accident, the Gregory