I couldn't imagine what Ben would be like if he were handling this really badly.

Side by side, Tony and 1 followed Ben back to the road. I tried to pin Tony down, studying him out of the corner of my eye. Despite the weirdness of the area, despite having spent most of the morning with a couple of werewolves, he didn't seem tense at all. He kept his head up, his gaze out, looking around at the trees, the top of the hills, the sky, watching everything just in case something interesting chanced by.

I didn't make him nervous, and that was refreshing.

“Did Ben tell you where he'd seen this before?” Tony asked.

“That job in New Mexico,” I said. “The one that blindsided him and Cormac. They kept thinking there were two werewolves, but the evidence didn't add up.”

“So one werewolf, and one something else? That narrows it down.”

I couldn't help it; I laughed. Tony smiled in reply.

“One more question,” he said. “Cormac said he'd meet me here. What happened?”

That one was a little harder to answer, because I wasn't sure myself. The tension had gotten thick. Then it had twisted, gone weird somehow. When we either couldn't stop glaring at each other, or couldn't look each other in the eye, something had to break.

I hadn't realized I'd let my hesitation stretch into a long silence until Tony answered for me.

“Ah—you and Cormac, and then you and Ben—”

“There was never a me and Cormac,” I said.

“Oh. Okay.”

He didn't sound convinced, and I declined to argue the point further. The lady doth protest too much, and all that.

Another car was parked on the shoulder, right behind mine. I recognized it; I'd seen it all too often the last week or so. Sheriff Marks's patrol car. His arms crossed, Marks leaned on the hood of his car, staring down Ben, who leaned on the back of mine, staring back.

“Who's that?” Tony asked as we made our way over the barbed-wire fence. Marks turned to watch our progress, his expression even more hooded and suspicious than ever.

“Sheriff Avery Marks. The local stalwart defender of truth, justice, and the American way.”

“Hm, one of those.”

“Norville,” Marks called. He'd dropped the “Ms.” I knew I was in trouble now. “May 1 ask what you're doing trespassing on Len Ford's land? Trying to clean up a little mess?”

I couldn't quite think of a response that wouldn't get me arrested on the spot. If he'd been five minutes later he wouldn't have seen us, and it wouldn't have been an issue. His timing was impeccable.

A bit too impeccable. “Have you been following me?” I said.

I didn't think it possible, but his frown deepened. “I have the right to keep a suspect under surveillance.”

Ben straightened, pushing off from the car. “Your 'surveillance' is coming awfully close to harassment, Sheriff.”

“You going to sue me?”

Ben only raised his brow. Marks didn't recognize the try me look, but I did.

Oh, this was going to get ugly.

Tony butted in, shouldering past me and in front of Marks like he really was breaking up a fight. “Hello, Sheriff Marks? I'm Tony Rivera. I'm afraid this is my fault, I asked Kitty to show me around. She said some weird stuff's been happening and I wanted to check it out.”

He held out his hand, an obvious peacemaking gesture, but Marks took his time reaching out to it. Finally, though, they clasped hands. They held on for a long moment, locked in one of those macho who's going to wince first gripping matches.

Finally, they let go. Tony's face had gone funny, and it took me a moment to figure out what it was. He was frowning. He hadn't frowned once all morning.

He looked at me. “He's the one. One of them, anyway.”

“One of them, what?” 1 said, perplexed, at nearly the same time Marks said, “One of who?”

Then my eyes widened as I realized what Tony was talking about: what he'd come here to look for, the curse, my house—Marks was the one.

“You?” I drew the word out into an accusation and glared at Marks. He didn't seem like the type to hang skinned dogs from trees. I'd have expected him to just shoot me. I'd never have pegged him as someone who knew anything about magic, even if what he knew was wrong. He was just so… boneheaded.

“What the hell are you people talking about?”

Tony said, “Anyone ever tell you that when you lay a curse, you better do it right or it's going to come back and smack you?”

If Tony was wrong and Marks didn't have anything to do with it, I'd have expected denials. I'd have expected more of the sheriff's blowhard posturing, maybe even threats. Instead, the fury left him for a moment, leaving his face slack and disbelieving.

His protest was too little, too late. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said in a low voice.

Tony ignored him, and glanced between Ben and me. “Remember what I said about spirits having fingerprints? Everybody's soul has its own little flavor. It follows them around, touches everything they do. This guy's stamp is all over your place.”

“I called him out there a couple of times, to check things out. That could be why,” I said.

“No. Too strong for that,” Tony said. “This has malice in it.”

Marks seemed to wake out of a daze. His defenses slammed into place, and the look of puckered rage returned. “You're accusing me of being the one who pinned those dead rabbits to her porch, and all that other garbage? What a load of crap. I don't believe this hocus-pocus nonsense.”

I said, “But you believe I'm a werewolf—a monster that could do something like slaughter a herd of cattle. You can't have it both ways, Sheriff. Believe one and not the other.” I'd learned that quickly enough.

“Okay, I won't say I don't believe it. Somebody's done something out at your place, I won't deny that. But I wouldn't know the first thing about cursing someone.”

“Maybe you were just following directions,” Tony said.

Again, that blank look while he organized his defense. “That doesn't even make sense.”

I said, “Sheriff, you don't like me. You've made no secret of that. You don't like what I am, you don't like that I'm in your town. Maybe you're not the only one. And maybe you didn't do it, but I'm betting you backed whoever did.”