TC was not out front. Nor was he waiting at the rear door. Ricky checked anyway, twice, and then stood on the front porch, shivering in only his jeans as he surveyed the empty street. The yowl came again, muffled. TC was inside somewhere.

The cat had gone missing once before. He’d been trapped in the basement of the Carew house. Purposely trapped there, Tristan putting him in that basement so he could get into Liv’s apartment undisturbed.

Which meant Ricky needed to get back to Liv, and they’d find the cat together. Yet when he reached the stairwell, TC yowled again, right on the other side of the wall.

Ricky walked to that apartment door and rapped. He wasn’t surprised when no one answered. They’d never met one of Liv’s neighbors. They’d only catch glimpses and hear voices and occasionally soft music.

When Ricky rapped again, TC yowled, and he reached for the knob. The door was unlocked. He eased it open, leaning in to call a hello, and—

A blast of ice-cold air hit him. Arctic cold.

A tinkling sounded, like icicles falling and shattering, and he pushed open the door. The blast of cold hit again, fresh and pure cold, like plunging into icy water, exhilarating and terrifying and—

A wizened hand yanked the door shut.

“What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Gallagher?” Grace crossed her arms. “You’d better have a good excuse, poking around my building.”

“TC’s in there.”

“Huh?”

“Liv’s cat—”

“I know who TC is. Stupidest name ever. If that damned beast ran off, I can promise you he’s not in there.”

“I heard him yowling.”

“Unless he’s learned to pick locks, he’s not in that apartment.”

“It isn’t locked.”

She jangled the handle. “Yes, it is.”

“Look, I don’t care what’s in there. Just bring TC out. I won’t even peek.”

“Peek at what? There’s nothing inside but dusty old furniture.” He sighed. “Fine, Grace. Just let the cat out. I can’t sleep with him yowling.”

Her wrinkled face puckered. “What yowling?”

“Damn it, Grace. Just—”

A meow cut him short. TC came trotting from the stairwell. He saw Ricky and gave another meow, sounding exasperated now, as if to say, There you are. He walked over and planted himself in front of Ricky. Then he looked at the stairwell and meowed again.

“Someone’s telling you to get back to bed,” Grace said.

“He was in there. I heard him.” Ricky turned to the apartment door.

Grace reached up and took hold of his chin. He let her tilt his face down to hers as she straightened to her full five feet and squinted up into his eyes.

“You got in after dinner last night,” she said.

“Right. You were out front. I brought you a scone.”

“I’m not senile, boy. I’m asking if you had dinner first.”

“No, you were stating a fact, which I was confirming. A question is worded—”

She gave his chin a sharp shake and glowered up at him, but there was no malice in it, no honest annoyance, either. As if he was a kid mouthing back, and she was glad to see he had spine.

“I’m asking if you had anything to eat or drink in Cainsville.”

“Then say that,” he said. “No, I didn’t.”

“And in Olivia’s apartment?”

“A beer and half a sandwich. Peanut butter, if that helps.”

“Did you speak to anyone when you got here? Other than me?”

“No, I—” He stiffened. “Liv.”

“Well, I’d hope you’d speak to her, though from the sounds of things you two are usually a little too busy for talking.”

He wasn’t going to ask how she could hear that from three stories down. He shook it off, said a quick good night, and started down the hall.

Grace was in front of him so fast she seemed to teleport into his path. “You’re worried about Olivia. That’s what you meant.”

“Right.” He started around her. “If TC wasn’t down here, it was a trick to get me out of her apartment.”

“No one will harm her here,” Grace said as she followed him up the stairs.

He kept going, climbing two at a time. When he reached the top, he jogged down the hall, nearly tripping over TC, who loped along beside him.

“Fine,” Grace called from the stairwell. “Check on her. Then get your ass back out here. We need to talk.”

He went into the apartment. Liv lay exactly where he’d left her. TC hopped onto the bed and settled at the end. Then he looked at Ricky, his eyes narrowed, as if to say, Well, get in already.

Ricky searched the apartment as TC wound around his legs, trying to get him back to bed where he belonged.

Ricky checked everything twice. Then he returned to the hall, where Grace waited.

“Satisfied?” she said. “You really are Cŵn Annwn. As faithful as a hound.”

When he didn’t reply, she peered up at him. “Not going to take offense at that?”

“Nope.”

“I knew Arawn,” she said. When he looked at her sharply, she gave a croaking laugh. “Oh, that gets a reaction. I was there, back in the day. I’ve met a couple of his embodiments, too. Pale imitations. I didn’t see him in them. I do in you.”

“Aspects,” he said. “I have things in common with him. I won’t deny that. But there are differences. I’m not going to make his mistakes.”