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A loud bang slammed into the kitchen.
Westvane pushed away from the table and shoved his chair back. The ladderback rocked, tittering on its back legs as he spun toward the swinging door.
More banging.
She pushed to her feet. “What the —”
“Who knows you live here?”
“No one.”
Moving with intent, Westvane crossed the kitchen. He flicked his fingers. Without him touching it, the swinging door whipped open. Hinges squawked in protest. Truly wanted to do the same, but instead hustled around the end of the table. Without slowing, Westvane dipped his head beneath the lintel and strode over the threshold into the central corridor. Unable to see beyond the set of his shoulders, she avoided the backlash of the door and ran after him.
The barrage of knocking continued. Someone shouted her name.
“Ah, hell.”
Already in the foyer, Westvane glared at her over his shoulder. “What?”
“I know who it is.” Shoving past him, she grabbed the handle and pulled the front door open.
“About time, girl. You think I got all day to stand around out here?”
“Earl,” she said, eyeballing the homeless man on her front porch. “Eavesdrop much?”
He grinned, treating her to the gap between his front teeth. “Been keeping track a’ you for months, girl. You think I’m not gonna pay attention when a troll comes calling?”
She really should’ve guessed. Earl had always been nosy. And bossy. And far too opinionated for her own good. “What are you doing here?”
“You promised me breakfast.” He shifted the duffle he carried, transferring it from one arm, shoving it under the other. “Sun’s coming up. Breakfast time.”
Truly bit her bottom lip. How best to explain? She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Earl spent too much time on his own, and honestly? If she was alone, his sudden appearance on her doorstep wouldn’t have been a big deal. “Listen… now’s really not a good —”
Westvane muttered something.
Earl’s attention snapped up. It landed on the hulk of man now planted behind her. His bushy brows collided. “Who the devil are you?”
Truly opened her month to warn him about Westvane.
She didn’t get the chance. One moment she stood in the open doorway. The next, Earl tossed the duffle at her. The heavy bag hit her in the chest. Air puffed from her throat as momentum pushed her off balance. She stumbled away from the door, back into the house.
Johnny on the spot, Westvane steadied her before she took a header into the hallway.
His expression thunderous, Earl stepped over the threshold and —
Transformed into a creature she didn’t recognize.
Clutching the bag, Truly jolted as surprise grabbed hold. Earl didn’t appear to beEarlanymore. He shifted the moment he entered her house, morphing into something she didn’t understand. His top half looked normal — like regular old Earl. His bottom half elongated into the body of centipede with more legs than she cared to count.
Shock slammed through her. “What the hell, Earl?”
“What?” he snapped, shoving her to one side, trying to get between her and Westvane. “Never seen a Mantipede before?”
“Is that what you are?”
“Well, I’m certainly not a Slayer!” he shouted, waving his fists at Westvane.
“Don’t call him that,” she said, sounding like an idiot. But really? Who could blame her? She had Earl — half man, half bug — standing in her foyer. “He doesn’t like it.”
