Mud and the crunchy remnants of last week’s snow surrounded the Riley mansion. Mark, beside the garage and with his hands in his pockets, stared into the engine compartment of his truck with a frown.

  Casey parked next to it, and while Avery stiffly climbed out, he walked over. “Broke down?”

  Mark scowled at the truck. “So, I was sleeping outside in the truck, and it died around two a.m. I about froze to death. Couldn’t sleep inside; everything’s covered in rat shit in my brother’s old apartment in the garage, and there’s just no room in the house. It’s so jam-packed it’s fucking claustrophobic.”

  Avery stood next to Mark for a moment, contemplating the engine compartment, then strolled around to the driver’s side, leaned through the window, and turned the key. The truck engine turned over but didn’t catch. He looked down at the dashboard. “You ran it out of gas, dumbass.”

  “Hey!” Mark protested, and then he glared, fists balling, “You’re the one with the stupid purple hair, Birdcage ... and yeah, no shit, but I didn’t know how else to keep warm, and I thought I had enough to get through to morning.”

  Avery ignored the insult and didn’t even glance in Mark’s direction, though he was probably watching him in his peripheral vision.

  Mark kicked a tire. “I don’t have money for more gas. Uh. There’s some in the garage, and m’mom always put fuel stabilizer in it. Think it’s still good?”

  While staring up at the greying, crumbling house, Avery answered, “Probably, if they’re good, airtight cans. Pour it in slowly, and don’t use the last quart or two. That’s where the shit’ll have settled that’ll gum your filter up. C’mon, Casey. Lemme show you why this house will be a nightmare to fix...”

  The back door wasn’t secured, and the lock appeared to have been broken. Mark waved at it absently, “That happened a few years ago. I wish they’d come back and steal every last thing in the house. I’d help them load it up.”

  Avery pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and snapped it on.

  The first thing Casey saw were some rather towering piles of mostly-unopened Amazon boxes, plus an incredibly random assortment of junk. He spotted the top half of a foam egg incubator in the kitchen, a broken-up loom in the living room, and three well-used bar fridges by the basement stairs, and a floor-to-ceiling stack of magazines in milk crates blocking the fridge door. It was far from the most unsanitary hoarder house he’d ever seen, but it was definitely the most jam-packed.

  Avery threaded his way down to the basement, on stairs that were halfway blocked by more crap. The basement, what they could see of it, was finished with carpet and drywall, and it was crammed with endless rows of food and consumable supplies, each shelf less than two feet apart. Due to the stacked goods, some areas were utterly impassable.

  In the basement, Avery spent fifteen minutes pointing out major problems, including ancient wiring that he claimed had been jury-rigged by somebody with a death wish, asbestos, cast-iron pipes long past their expiration date, and a furnace that had been new during the Reagan administration. In all areas, they had to move small mountains of hoarded junk to see important infrastructure.

  Avery finally said, “We can’t get up the stairs to the second and third floors, but Mark, they look pretty much like the first, yeah?”

  “Yeah. There’s even more shit. The basement’s mostly food ‘cuz my mom said it stayed cooler. Can’t walk around at all in the rest of the house. You gotta climb over stuff.” Mark had been trailing glumly after them. He looked exhausted and depressed.

  Mark added, “My bedroom from when I was a kid is packed floor to ceiling and wall to wall with magazines and books. She started sticking them in there because she said I needed to read more, and then they just took over. One day, I came home from high school, and my bed was covered in romance novels from a book sale. She got mad when I tried to move them into the hall so I could sleep. I ended up living in a tent in the yard until I turned eighteen and could move out, and she even stashed stuff in my tent!”

  “She made you sleep in the yard?” Casey said in disbelief.

  Avery made a small sound of disgust. “Didn’t your brother have his own apartment in the garage? It was mentioned in some of the news articles.”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

  Mark’s shoulders hunched. “M’brother wouldn’t let me move in with him. He said I had a bedroom and I needed to work it out with Mom, but Mom said we’d need the books when the apocalypse happened, and she wouldn’t let me touch them. Romance fucking novels on my bed! She said entertainment would be important during the end times, and we’d thank her for the books later. Anyway, my brother’s apartment was a different kind of gross. His posters ‘n shit gave me the creeps.”

  Casey traded a look with Avery. He wasn’t sure what Avery was thinking, but Casey couldn’t imagine either of their mothers treating them that way. Annette had her own agenda for Avery, but this was entirely different.

  Additionally, in a situation like Mark was describing, Casey would have moved heaven and earth to see that Avery had a decent place to sleep, and he was certain the reverse was also true. Avery would never abandon him to a tent in the yard.

  After a moment of appalled silence, Avery said a bit awkwardly, “We’d need to do a gut renovation after we clear all the crap out, but, I mean, for the price...” Avery glanced sideways at Casey. “The house does have good bones. I just gotta keep working on my mom to get her to agree.”

  “Price drops Monday,” Mark said, “and it’ll sell quick then, I think. It just ain’t sold yet because Tyler insisted on tryin’ t’ get the most he could for it, an’ he’s been asking way too much. I gotta get some money. But Todd’s apartment is so gross. I won’t be showing it to you. Rats don’t seem to have gotten into the house, but they’re all over the garage.”

  Casey’s Gift stirred. They needed to see the garage apartment. He sighed. Helping Mark Riley out wasn’t how he’d planned to spend the day, but the man probably needed a hand. It was as good of an excuse as any. “Want some help?”

  “You’d ... help me clean?” Mark gave Casey a shocked look.

  “CeeCee...” Avery said, sounding mildly annoyed.

  “He doesn’t have anywhere else to stay.” Casey stared his brother down. “Or anyone to help him out. Daxi and Freddie are back, so they and Shana can run the Shop today.”

  “Not sure how useful I’ll be,” Avery muttered. He was moving more and more stiffly.

  “Actually,” Mark wouldn’t meet Casey’s eyes. “I’m not even sure I want you to see... It’s not just the rat shit. Todd was... well, there’s nasty art. And black magic shit. And, uh, bras. Everywhere. I don’t even want to touch them. He wasn’t wearing them, if you know what I mean.”

  Avery snorted. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “He ain’t me. I got standards.” Mark looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “Look, I’ll clean his mess up. I wanna do it before the place sells, anyway. Mom’s junk is one thing, but Todd used t’ sacrifice animals and dig up graveyards, and I’m worried about what we might find and what ya’ll will think of me.”

  Before Casey could assure Mark they wouldn’t judge him just because he was related to his brother, Simon made a small, distressed noise. “Blood magic? In combination with the Book? That explains quite a bit. Foolish man.”

  Mark glanced over at him. “He’d do terrible things to animals and said that gave him power. But, also, he’d pay people to draw the most gruesome scenes with people and then tell me about how he wanted to do those things to real girls and draw magical power from my angry reaction to that. I’m a jerk, but I ain’t never dreamed of doing that type of fucked-up shit to pretty girls.”

  “You are not your brother,” Simon said. “You cannot be blamed for his actions.”

  “I ain’t got the best reputation. Lots of folks will think we’re the same. Best I just burn all the nasty shit, and nobody ever sees it. He’d kill me for touching his stuff, but maybe he won’t come back.” Mark sounded hopeful. Casey couldn’t help but think he’d be frantic if Avery was missing.

  Simon said, “Mark, what your brother was doing could be dangerous. He could have set traps, and if he was skilled enough, he could ward them so even Casey wouldn’t be able to sense them. Concealment is one of the first things a mage learns.”

  “I’ll take my chances. There’s a staff I’m watching out for. I ain’t seen it since he went missing. Freaky damn thing. I find it, I’ll give it to you guys.”

  Simon shifted unhappily. “Blood magic... it would be best if Casey and I looked the apartment over before you touched anything else within it.”

  “No!” Mark said, a bit sharper. He sounded acutely unhappy, and Simon opened his mouth like he wanted to argue.

  “Simon, let it go. He probably does understand the risks.” Casey didn’t want to give Simon a direct order, but he knew from dealing with Mark for most of his life that this calm and productive conversation would end swiftly if the man lost his temper.

  “Yeah. I saw him do some awful things. I know what his traps look like, too. He’s not subtle,” Mark said.

  Casey said, “See, Simon? He knows the risks. It’s his choice. Mark, is there anything we can help with?”

  “Help me get the gas? It’s way at the back of the garage.”