The house settled into its nightly creaks and groans. Bob's breathing had evened out into the soft rhythm of sleep, one arm draped off the edge of the mattress. Petunia waited. She always waited. Her ears swiveled, catching the distant hum of the refrigerator, the wind pressing against the window, the tick of the old clock in the hall. When she was certain the house had gone deep, she slipped off the bed. Her claws clicked softly on the hardwood as she padded to the far side of the bed frame. The gap was narrow, barely wide enough for her broad head to fit, but she knew the path by heart. Three stones. She had placed them at sundown, as she always did, nudging each one into position with her nose until the triangle felt right. The first stone was smooth river rock, cool and gray. The second was a shard of quartz that caught the faint light from the streetlamp. The third was a dark basalt chip, rough and heavy. Tonight, the basalt was gone. Petunia lowered her head and sniffed the empty space. Dust and old wood. No trace of the stone's scent—not that she expected one. This wasn't the first time. A low rumble started in her chest, not quite a growl, more like a disturbed frequency. She pulled back and sat on her haunches, staring at the incomplete triangle. The pattern needed three. Always three. Without the third, the arrangement was just… waiting. And waiting meant something was coming. Outside, the wind picked up, rattling a loose gutter. Petunia's ears swiveled toward the sound, but she didn't turn. She kept her eyes fixed on the two stones, as if willing the third to appear. She had never shown Bob this ritual. Some things, she understood, were not for human eyes. But he was clever. He would notice eventually. And when he did, she would have to decide how much to let him see. She nudged the quartz a fraction of an inch to the left, correcting the alignment with the precision of long practice. Then she lay down, her heavy head resting on her paws, watching the empty vertex of the triangle. The house creaked again. Somewhere in the dark, a stone waited to be found.