"No, they're fine."

She tilted her head, hearing the click-click of claws on cement. "Here he comes. I'll get out of your way too, so I can guard the guards-warn you if they get curious."

"Thanks."

A black wolf stepped from the shadows into the moonlight. He moved slowly, as if wary of startling me. I suppose if there's any sight worth being spooked by, it's a 180-pound wolf in a residential garden at night. But Jeremy in wolf form never frightened me. Not even the first time I'd seen him. A changed werewolf looks like a real wolf, but their overall size stays the same, as do their hair and eye color. I'd taken one look in those dark eyes and I'd known it was Jeremy.

He padded over to me and nudged my hand, his nose as cold and wet as any dog's. I laughed at that and he gave me a look, but I didn't share. Comparing a werewolf to a dog might be considered an insult. But as I stood, I did let my hand brush his fur. It felt like… fur. Coarse on top, soft underneath.

I turned to ask where we should start, and was struck by a sudden thought. "You can understand me, can't you? Do you need me to speak slower or louder…?"

A soft snort and shake of his head. The movement was awkward, as if he wasn't accustomed to "human" communication in wolf form. How did they communicate? Did they understand barks? Did some canine language interpreter click on when they changed form?

"So I guess we should do this systematically, one bed at a time, starting-" I looked up to see his tail disappearing into the shadows. "Or I can just follow you."

CADAVER DOG

FOR THE NEXT HOUR, Jeremy sniffed gardens, trying to find the unmistakable scent of a decaying corpse. Harder than it sounds because most of the beds were raised within retaining walls, so he had to hop up or-in a few cases-take a running leap.

He stayed at the edge of the gardens and leaned in to get closer to the center, ducking around bushes, picking his way past plants. I erased paw prints as we went.

We made it through about half of the garden when I noticed Tansy and Gabrielle watching.

"Is this about those poor trapped children?" Gabrielle asked as I waved them over.

I nodded. "We're hoping to find a body, so we can…" I considered how best to explain it. "Find the people responsible and figure out what they did so I can free the spirits. He-" I waved at Jeremy. "The, uh, dog is specially trained for that sort of thing."

"A cadaver dog."

"Right. But not, you know, officially or anything. Just a friend of a friend knew someone who trained them and let me borrow this one."

"Shouldn't he be on a lead?" Tansy asked.

"This one works better off-leash. He's very well trained."

"Huh. Well, it looks like he may have found something."

I leaned past Tansy to see Jeremy gingerly raking back the dirt with his claws. He took another sniff, caught anoseful of dirt and sneezed. Then he resumed his careful digging.

A smell wafted up, strong enough for me to recognize. The stink of a rotting corpse. Jeremy lowered his muzzle into the hole and flipped something out. Even before I got close, I could see tiny stick-like bones and needlelike teeth. A mole or large mouse.

"Eww," Tansy said. "You'd better grab that, before he eats it."

I swallowed a laugh. "I made sure he was well fed before we started."

Jeremy looked at me, as if figuring out what we were talking about. He rolled the tiny corpse back into the hole, this time with his paw.

When he started covering it, I hurried forward. "I'll get that. You just keep- I mean, go, boy. Work. Sniff."

Jeremy rolled his dark eyes, leapt from the garden and headed toward the next one as I refilled his hole.

"Here comes Pete," Tansy said. "Wonder why he left his post? Uh-oh, he looks worried."

A gray-haired man hurried down the path, his broad face gathered in concern.

"Where is he?" Gabrielle asked.

"Inside the house. Upstairs I think." Tansy looked at me. "Some of us took up posts, keeping an eye out. This looked like something you wouldn't want to be found doing, so we were keeping watch."

"Oh? That's very thoughtful. Thank you."

"Someone's watching from upstairs," the portly man-Pete-said as he drew up beside us. "The English chap. He's been looking out the window."

"Grady? Damn! Jer-uh-boy?" I called softly. "Stay. Okay? Stay."

Jeremy peeked from the garden a few yards down and dipped his muzzle, telling me he understood. I stepped back farther into the shadows and looked up at the house. Grady's curtains were parted, a dim glow silhouetting his figure.

"Thanks for letting me know," I whispered to the ghost.

"I don't think he saw-" He stopped, looking up. "Oh, he's gone. False alarm. I'll head back."

"Wait," I said. "Your name's Pete?"

"Peter Feeney, miss. Used to work a few blocks away. Chauffeur, gardener, butler…" He smiled. "Whatever they needed."

"And what do you need? From me, I mean," I blurted. Alarm bells sounded in my head. But I steeled myself and pushed on. "I mean, is there anything I can do for you? I'm pretty limited. I can't find your killer or anything like that."

Peter smiled, showing small, even teeth. "My killer was me, miss. Me and my bad habits. Now, I'd love to bring them to justice, the folks who told me all those cigarettes weren't bad for my health, but I know you can't do that." He chewed his lip, the urge to be polite warring with the fear that he'd never get another chance to speak to a necromancer. "There is something, but I know you're really busy…"