sneaks into house

Not long after, something scratched at the front door, and Will opened it to admit a grey-brown-furred wolf. The wolf trotted over to where Marci’s dress lay folded on the sofa, took it in her teeth, and vanished into the kitchen. Marci appeared a few seconds later, settling the dress around her slender form, and said, “She’ll be here any moment. I already told Andi and Eyes.”
“Thank you, Marci.” Murph looked at everyone and said, “Settle down, people. You look like you’re expecting Hannibal Lecter to come through the door.”
“I could handle Hannibal,” Will said. “This is different.”
Murphy put a fist on her hip and said, “Will. Molly is one of us. And you aren’t going to help her by looking nervous. If you can’t settle down and relax, get out of here. I don’t want you upsetting her.”
Will grimaced. Then he went into the kitchen, and a moment later a large wolf with fur the same color as Will’s hair padded back into the room. He went to a corner, turned around three times, and settled down on the floor. Toto let out a sharp little bark of greeting and hopped down to hurry over to Will. The little dog sniffed Will, then turned around three times and settled down next to him, their backs touching. The big wolf took a deep breath and exhaled it into a very human-sounding sigh of resignation.
“Thank you,” Murphy said. She glanced at Mort. “There’s a circle made out of copper wire in the kitchen. If it gets hot in here, you can run for it. You know how to empower a circle?”
“Yes, of course.” He licked his lips and said, “Though I can’t imagine running for my life and stopping in the kitchen. Meaning no offense to your protective ability, but I’ll stop when I’m home, thank you.”
“God,” Murphy said. “If only more people had as much sense as you.”
Murphy’s radio chirped, and Eyes started to say something. His voice drowned an instant later in a burst of static.
That ratcheted more tension in everyone. Wizards and their major magical talent are tough on hardware. The more complex a machine is, the more disruptive a wizard’s presence becomes, and electronics are nearly always the first to malfunction when a wizard is nearby. The wonky radio warned us of Molly’s approach every bit as clearly as a sentry shouting, “Who goes there?”
“Huh,” I said.
Mort glanced at me. “What?”
“The technology disruption a practitioner causes is relative to his—or her—strength.”
“I knew that, actually,” Mort said. “It’s why I have to keep replacing my cell phone. So?”
“So Molly was not a heavyweight in terms of raw power. She had to be practically close enough to touch something to hex it down that fast.” I narrowed my eyes. “She’s gotten stronger. Either that or . . .”
“She’s already in the room,” Mort said.
Murphy looked up sharply at that. “What?”
The house lights flickered for a second and then went out.
They weren’t gone long—the space of a heartbeat or two. But when they came back up, Murphy had her gun in hand, Marci had become a wolf with a sundress hanging around her neck, and a young woman wrapped in layers and layers of cast-off clothing sat on the sofa between Abby and Mort, not six inches away from either of them.
Molly was tall and built like a pinup model, with long, long legs and curves that not even the layers of clothing could hide. Her face was lovely and devoid of makeup, and her cheekbones pressed out harshly against her skin. Her hair was dirty, stringy, tangled, and colored a shade of purple so dark as to be nearly indistinguishable from black. A wooden cane stained the same color of deep purple leaned against her knees, and an old military-issue canvas knapsack covered with buttons and drawings in Magic Marker rested between her hiking boots. From Abby’s and Mort’s reactions, it must have smelled like it had been at least several days since her last shower.
But it was her eyes that were the worst.
My apprentice’s blue eyes were sunken, surrounded by shadows of stress and fatigue, and an odd light glittered there in the glassy shine I’d seen mostly in people recovering from anesthesia.
“It’s interesting that you would notice me,” Molly said to Mort, as if she’d been politely participating in the conversation all along.


Ghost Story Chapter 11, Page 116-118