I wasn’t up to another sprint, so I was glad that he just set off walking quickly, but his legs were a lot longer than mine and I had to practically run to keep up with him. When we got to Owen’s street, I saw that the lights were on in his living room windows. “Look, he’s home,” I said to Rod.

“That, or someone’s there waiting for him.” He rang the doorbell, and when there was no response, he took his key chain out of his pocket. I caught his arm before he could unlock the door.

“He’s probably got the place warded.”

He took the key off the ring and handed it to me. “The wards won’t stop you. He needs you. He doesn’t need to be alone, even if it takes barging in.”

There was a flutter of wings, and Sam and several other gargoyles alit in the trees in front of Owen’s building. “Looks like you two found him,” Sam said.

“I was just about to go up and check on him,” I said, reluctantly taking the key from Rod.

“I’ll leave some people here to keep an eye on the place, make sure no one tries anything funny,” Sam said.

“Thanks, Sam,” I said. I glanced at Rod, then held up the key and said, “Well, let’s see how this goes.”

“Give me a signal to let me know he’s okay,” Rod said. “I’ll wait out here until then.”

I unlocked the front door, then went up the stairs. At Owen’s door, I hesitated, then rapped lightly on it. “Owen?” I called out. “It’s Katie. Rod gave me his key. I need to talk to you. I’m alone.” There wasn’t a response, so I said a little louder, “Okay, then I’m coming in. If you don’t want me to come in, you’d better throw an interior deadbolt or put up the chain. You’ve got a count of ten.” I counted down from ten, then said, “Ready or not, here I come,” and unlocked the door. I felt the magic of his wards as a slight shiver when I passed through the doorway, but they didn’t stop me.

Loony met me at the door, meowing loudly and twining herself around my legs. I wasn’t a cat person, but I could still tell that she was agitated. That made me wonder what I’d find inside. “Where is he?” I asked her. She flicked her tail at me, then ran into the living room.

“Owen? It’s me!” I called out as I followed her. “Are you okay?” Then I came to a stop just inside the living room.

The place was always untidy. For such an ordered thinker, Owen could be a real slob, especially with books and paper. This was a different kind of mess. There was a pile of books on the floor in front of the bookcase, like he’d pulled them out one-by-one, then hadn’t bothered to reshelve each one when he didn’t find what he was looking for and moved on to the next book. He must have finally found the right book because he was leaning over his desk, peering intently at an open book.

I’d anticipated that he might be in a severe sulk or a serious, soul-searching depression. After all, he’d just learned his true identity after a lifetime of contented ignorance, and it was a horrifying truth. According to what I’d read, his alleged birth parents had been worse than anything Idris aspired to be, and now he’d been accused of being a monster like them. That was the kind of news that tended to make people want to slit their wrists.

But he didn’t look all that different from any other time when he was focused on a problem. I supposed research mode was a comfort zone for him. He was still wearing the slacks and shirt of the suit he’d worn that day, with the collar undone and the sleeves rolled up. His jacket and tie were thrown across the arm of a chair. His hair fell across his eyes and stood up in every direction, like he’d been running his fingers through it. He glanced up as I entered and said mildly, “Oh, there you are. I was wondering when you’d get here.”

I shook my head to clear the fuzz. I felt like I’d just walked onstage expecting to act in one scene and found myself in an entirely different one from a different part of the play—or even from a different play. “Well, you haven’t exactly put out the welcome mat,” I said. “You’re not answering the phone—by the way, I’ve got your cell—or the doorbell, and you’ve got the place more heavily warded than Rod’s little black book.” Mentioning Rod reminded me that I’d promised to signal him. I stepped to the front window, pulled back the curtain and gave a thumbs-up before returning my attention to Owen.

“Like that could stop you,” Owen said with a shrug. “And don’t tell Rod, but I got past the wards on his little black book when we were in high school. It’s very interesting reading. When I was fourteen, I considered it quite educational.”