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“She likes heights. She’s loving her new cat tree. Speaking of cats. I was wondering, Owen. Sonya and I have to go to Boston in a few weeks.”

“Yeah, the Ryder deal.”

“Trey’s going to take Yoda. I was wondering if you and Jones would take Pye.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “You waited until I had two servings of meatloaf in me to ask that. Smart. I respect smart. Sure.”

“Thanks. Is anyone in the mood for video games? We’ve got the whole setup, but Sonya refuses me.”

“Because I’m crap at video games.”

“No, not really.”

“You say that because whenever you talk me into it, you beat me into the ground.”

Trey glanced over. “Don’t tell me you’re a sore loser.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you. But if everyone plays, I’ll play.”

They headed back to childhood withSuper Mario, withSonic, then changed it up with sports.

They trounced her. Sonya came close with baseball, but still went down.

Owen set down his controller. “You’re really terrible at this.”

“I know! Didn’t I say? It’s not hand-eye coordination. I have good hand-eye coordination. It’s not reflexes because mine are just fine. It’s—”

“VGCD,” Trey suggested. “Video game controller deficiency.”

“That’s it!” Laughing, she leapt at it. “I have VGCD, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. And due to my VGCD, I’m permanently excused from participating.”

“At least I have new gaming partners. Worthy ones.” Cleo waggled her controller. “One more round?”

“One more.” Owen picked his up again. “I like retiring a winner.”

Happily enough, Sonya settled back to watch. She might suck due to VGCD, but the bright spot? They’d put yet another room in the manor to good use. Bright, noisy use.

And by the time they all went up near to midnight, no one and nothing had complained about it.

It started at three. First the trio of chimes, and the drift of music. The heartbreak of weeping, the sounds of doors opening, doors closing, and the ominous creaking.

Sonya reached for Trey’s hand and closed her eyes again.

A driving guitar riff blasted from both their phones.

Even as she shot up in bed, Trey was rolling out of it. Both dogs sprang up to growl. As the single word, shouted, repeated,“Thunder!”joined the guitar, it boomed like cannon fire outside.

Wind, screaming like an animal in pain, hurled rain against the windows.

And downstairs, something beat, giant fists, against the grand mahogany doors.

“Stay close,” Trey ordered, and was already moving fast out of the room.

Seconds after he started down the hall, Owen came out of his room, then Cleo hers.

“‘Thunderstruck,’” Owen said. “And I’m all about AC/DC, but that’s a fucking rude awakening.”

“She—Clover—wanted to warn us.” Cleo reached for Sonya’s hand. “Even if it was only seconds.”