Heir of the Dog (Liars and Vampires Book 6)

by Robert J. Crane

I glanced out of the window and my mouth fell open. “But, this can’t be right.” I leaned over Xandra to get a better look out the window. “It’s —” The words faded and I just stared.

  Where a pretty beach house must’ve once been was an empty lot. The mailbox was still there, but the house was gone. Bits and pieces of plaster littered the ground and there was a bulldozer sitting in the middle of the lot, silent and menacing.

  “How?” I asked. “This is the right place, right?”

  Lockwood pointed at the mailbox. It was the right address. But...

  There was no house here.

  There was nothing here.

  We were back to ground zero.

  Chapter 18

  “Hey.” Mill's voice was soft and gentle and held no sign that he considered anything amiss between us. Which was strange considering I'd stormed out on him just yesterday and we'd had no contact since.

  I was back at Mill’s apartment. Night had fallen and he was awake. He was sitting next to me on the couch, giving me a wary look. He’d fixed me a hot cup of tea, which was something I probably wouldn’t have chosen for myself, given how hot it was outside, but I appreciated his thoughtfulness.

  “Hm?” I asked, looking into his eyes. This close, I could smell his cologne, a subtle touch of bergamot and it made me feel calm. I probably could’ve fallen asleep sitting up. But I didn’t know if I could with his eyes on me so intently. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

  “You didn't answer me.” He was watching me carefully, as though I were about to detonate, which was improbable given how tired I felt. “Are we…still fighting? It’s been a long time since I’ve dated a teenage girl. The last time I did for any substantial length of time, they were wearing those frilly collars. So, I need you to catch me up to speed so I know what I’m getting myself into. Also,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “please don’t wear one of those frilly collars.”

  I arched my own brow at him. So he had noticed. “I’ve been kind of busy helping a family with a crazed werewolf dad. I hadn’t really thought about it in those kind of terms, but yes, I am still kind of mad at you.”

  He blinked at me and then sighed. “Damn. I thought maybe it had faded already.”

  “I'm a woman. I can multitask.”

  “Then these things haven’t changed all that much, it seems,” he said with a shrug.

  “Are you still mad at me?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. “I mean, the way I left? Because you could have called or texted.”

  Mill looked away.

  “You are mad,” I said flatly, the anger sizzling like oil on a hot pan. “Why are you mad?”

  “I’m not mad,” he said. “But I don’t think that you should be hanging out with that werewolf. They’re bad news.”

  “This again?” I rolled my eyes. “Mill, come on. He’s Amish. What is he going to do, have a buggy race? Is he in the Amish version of The Fast and the Furious every weekend with his Clydesdales?”

  “I just don’t like you hanging out with werewolves,” Mill said.

  I glared at him.

  And then it hit me like a truck slipping on black ice. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. It was so clear.

  “Are you…are you having some pangs of Jacob jealousy?” I asked.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snapped, averting his eyes. “And why are you calling me Jacob?” If it was possible, color would have appeared in his pale cheeks.

  My eyes widened. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  He shook his head, still not meeting my eye. “No. No, I don’t.”

  “You —” I said, trying to stifle an outburst of laughter. “Did you read the books? Or did you watch the movies?”

  Mill glared at me darkly for a long second, so long that I was almost positive he was going to start shouting at me. His hands balled into fists and I leaned away.

  “That is not an accurate representation of vampires, okay? It was terrible. Sparkling vampires? Are you kidding me? We don’t sparkle. We burn in the sunlight. Who came up with sparkling?”

  I couldn’t help it. I lost it and started laughing. Mill didn’t seem to notice. I'd opened some sort of furious rage inside of him.

  “The worst part was that the series ended so badly. There was no fight at the end of the fourth book, even though the author spent the entire book building up to one. Oh, surprise, sorry. Here is a super convenient out for my characters so I don’t have to kill any of them.”

  I had tears of mirth spilling out onto my cheeks. I’d never heard him speak with such passion about something so…ordinary. To be honest, it made me like him all that much more.

  “How can you end a series like that without a big fight? And don’t even get me started on the vegetarian vampire nonsense. That wouldn’t do anything. In fact, it'd make the thirst worse.”

  “I can tell you feel strongly about this.” Speaking was a challenge, it was so hard to even breathe. Now he was glaring at me, apparently spent. “You good?” I asked.

  He sighed heavily, brushing away a piece of fuzz on his dark blue shirt. “I’m fine,” he said, composure regained.

  I shook my head. “Wow, Mill. That was really intense.”

  He gave me a quick look of shame. “Yeah, well…people were talking about vampires so much when the books came out that I had to...y'know, check and see what it was all about.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Okay,” I said with a smirk. He'd read Twilight. Maybe even watched it. “But…I am still getting a sense that you might be jealous of Jedediah.”

  “No, I am not jealous of an Amish boy,” he said.

  “You are,” I said. “You are actually jealous.”

  “I am not jealous,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “I’ve been tons of places with Lockwood alone, including like a week-long jaunt to Faerie, but you aren’t jealous of him. Why? He’s not a bad looking dude.”

  Mill gave me a leveling look. “He’s actually a lot older than I am. And no one mistakes him for a teenager.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Besides, I trust Lockwood. He’s proven himself time and time again.”

  “So, it’s because you don’t know Jed that you don’t like him?” I asked.

  “That makes perfect sense, Cassie. You can’t tell me it doesn’t,” he said. He shook his head. “And I was so sure that women had changed, but no…they’re still into werewolves.”

  “I am not into werewolves,” I said. “What does that even mean? If I wanted someone furry that I could pet, I'd get a dog.”

  Mill, apparently, hadn’t heard me. “And might I remind you that you, yourself, dealt with some jealousy not too long ago?”

  My cheeks flushed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Remember my fake girlfriend?” Mill asked.

  “Wow, really? You're going there?” I winced. “Okay, fine, I was jealous of your fake girlfriend. Are you happy?”

  “Maybe,” Mill said. “You know, you’re touting to everyone that you’ve stopped lying, yet here you sit, lying through your teeth as easily as —”

  My blood boiled as I stood up. “And I’m done. I came over here and talked to you because I trust you and care about your opinion and you just—”

  “You’re getting involved in something that doesn’t concern you,” he said, getting to his feet, towering over me again. Lost my height advantage. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

  “No, do you think I’m stupid?” I asked. “I’m trying to help because there’s no one else, Mill. No one. I know what Derrick’s dad is and I don’t want to have his blood on my hands.”

  “How?” Mill asked, his brow furrowing on his dumb, big forehead. “How in the world would any of it be your fault?”

  “Because I am the only one who can help,” I said. “And if you can help and don't...”

  “You keep saying that,” Mill said. “And how’re you going to help e
xactly, huh? You’re just a human, Cassie. Sure, you’ve learned to fight vampires, but does that mean that you’re going to go in, guns blazing, loaded with a silver bullet and kill this guy? You aren’t a murderer.”

  That word. Murderer. I hadn’t thought of killing him…

  So what did I plan to do, then?

  I glared up at him. Even if he made a decent point, he was still lecturing me and treating me like a child. “So what if I can’t do very much? I’m trying and that counts for something, doesn’t it?”

  “Not if it gets you hurt and someone else killed in the process, no,” Mill said.

  “I’m done,” I said and I whirled around, stalking toward the door.

  “Wait, you’re leaving again?” he said, his tone completely changing. “Come on, Cassie–”

  “No,” I said, holding a hand up to stop him. “I don’t like fighting with you like this.” The exhaustion was permeating every word. “When you can finally discuss this with me like a normal person, I’ll happily talk with you. Until then...let's just stop. For both our sakes.”

  Mill’s eyes darkened. Part of me wanted to hurt him. I came to him for help. And all he wanted to do was harangue me for seeking werewolf help. There were people involved who could get hurt. Why couldn’t he see that?

  “Besides, I'm not interested in Jed,” I snapped at him as I scrambled to get my keys and phone off the long, narrow table along the wall. I saw that he had fresh lilies there for me today. My heart squirmed a little, but I ignored it.

  “Come on, Cassie…” he said gently. “Just stay for a little bit. Let’s talk this out.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m leaving. That’s the thing that women in the 21st century do, Mill. We leave. At least, it’s what some of us do.”

  I pulled open the door and shot a nasty glance over my shoulder at him.

  “We even drive our own cars sometimes,” I said. I nodded my head sharply. “Adieu.”

  I was getting too used to slamming his front door.

  Chapter 19

  I got an Uber home, texting Mom and Dad to let them know I was on my way back while I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for my ride. Because even in a world of vampires and werewolves and fae (oh my!), we still feared stranger danger. My heart was still hammering inside my head and I just kept replaying my conversation with Mill over and over in my head. It was going to take me a while to calm down.

  I may have not liked Mill’s stance toward the werewolves, but what he said about my endgame in this did make me think. What was I going to do? What was the goal?

  Would it have to end in Derrick’s dad’s death? That seemed extreme, right?

  But if it didn’t end with that, then what would end it? Maybe the police would arrest him before things got too out of hand. That would solve things.

  Except it wouldn’t, because he was a werewolf that was off the rails. If he was locked up, he'd be a danger to every inmate he was incarcerated with. And it wasn't like every prisoner in the penal system was purest evil, shat out of the bowels of hell.

  A car slowed down, pulling up to the curb and stopping in front of me. It was the Uber and for a second, I’d forgotten I was waiting for it. I pulled open the back door and slid into the back. I gave her my address and we started off.

  I lost myself in my thoughts, brain swirling. I was like a dog chasing a car. What the hell was I going to do if I caught Mr. Bauer?

  The Uber dropped me at the corner and I wandered up the street toward our rental, trying to not feel too sorry for myself. There were sprinklers spraying in a few yards, the sulfur smell of the water strong in the night air. The air was humid and the back of my shirt was sticking to my skin.

  I was tired. Really tired. My limbs ached and there was a sharp pain at the base of my skull. My boyfriend and I had experienced a lovely series of fights now. Yay. Totally normal.

  “I’m home,” I said as I stepped inside the house. It was a relief to be back in the air conditioning. My mouth watered as I smelled a wonderful, garlic aroma from the kitchen. Dad had made something Italian and I was starving.

  I wandered into the living room and found Mom and Dad sitting at the dining table. Mom was pinching the bridge of her nose, staring at the painted wooden surface of the table. Dad was rubbing her arm affectionately.

  “Um, hi?” I said, snagging a roll out of the basket on the counter as I walked closer. “What’s going on? Who's dead?”

  Mom straightened and closed the binder that was underneath her arm with a quick snap. She looked just a little alarmed, like I'd caught her doing something improper. Which I never did. “Hi, Cassie,” she said, an octave higher than normal. “How was your day?”

  “Fine,” I said, through a mouthful of the roll. “But again, who's dead?”

  “No one,” she said. There was a lot of strain in her voice. “We’ve just been talking.”

  “About?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe that separated the kitchen from the little dining room.

  “Nothing,” Dad said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Uh, huh,” I said, arching a brow at them.

  “It’s nothing,” Mom said, moving the binder farther away from me.

  I snorted. “Wow and I thought I was the biggest liar in the house. You guys need practice if you want to be believable. I could give you some pointers if you want.”

  Mom glared at me. Her eyes were bloodshot and I immediately regretted teasing her. Had she been crying? Or just pulling late nights?

  “It’s nothing that you have to worry about,” Dad said a little more gently. “It’s adult stuff, you know. Bills. Insurance matters. Work things.”

  “You’re having problems with insurance bills at work?” I asked, looking at Mom.

  She rolled her eyes at my adulting mash-up. “It’s nothing.” A little more insistently this time. That was the sort of nothing that always meant something.

  “I know you had dinner with Xandra, but I left you some extra Bolognese in the foil wrapped tin in the oven,” Dad said. “The pasta is in the fridge, you’ll have to heat that up if you’re hungry.”

  I could take a hint. They were trying to get rid of me. But honestly? Chalk it up to the crappy night, or stress-eating, but I was starving. Again.

  Writing this whole conversation off as “None of my business,” I went for the food. I had enough going on without wanting to tunnel through the stone wall they were building between me and this conversational topic.

  “So, how was your day?” Mom asked, passing through the kitchen. “How’s your friend?”

  “You’ll have to be more specific, Mom,” I said, closing the fridge, the Tupperware of pasta in my hand. “I have like a gazillion friends now, you know. I'm totally on track to become second runner-up to the Spring Formal Queen.” I frowned, thinking about it. “Actually, since it's Florida, it's probably all Summer Formals, regardless of what time of year they hold them.”

  “Derrick.” She arched a brow at me. “I think that's what you said his name was?”

  “Oh, right,” I said. “He’s doing okay. We popped in to say hi to him after we got back from Sarasota.”

  “Oh?” Mom raised an eyebrow. “I don’t remember you asking if you could go over there.”

  “It's cool, we just talked about insurance and bills and job stuff.” I shot her a smarmy smile as I stuck the pasta in the microwave, mashing some buttons. “He doesn’t live that far from here. I met his mom, though. She seems nice, though the divorce seems to be difficult for the both of them.”

  “I’ve never seen a divorce that wasn’t messy,” Mom said. “I hope my firm isn’t the one handling it, though. That would be a conflict of interest for me if you and Derrick are becoming friends.”

  “Oh, well, in that case I'll totally tell him I can't talk to him anymore,” I said. “Because friendships are way less important than legal proprieties.”

  She snapped her briefcase shut and she smiled at me, apparently fine with my snide dig at her pri
orities. “You know, I think it’s nice that you’ve taken a personal interest in helping him.”

  “Yeah, that’s me, kindhearted Cassie,” I said, sticking a fork into the bowl of steaming pasta in my hands. She probably wouldn’t be happy to know that I was helping because his dad wasn’t human. The relief in her voice told me that she thought I was just doing human girl things, helping her human friends with human problems.

  The longer I waited to tell them, the harder it was going to be.

  Even still, it sounded like she had enough to worry about right now. I squashed my guilt and smiled at her as I pulled a water bottle from the fridge. “Okay, I’m going to eat this while I finish my homework.”

  “Sounds good, I’ll come say goodnight after my shower,” she said. I caught a flash of tautness as she turned away.

  I frowned. Something was really wrong to upset her this much.

  I grabbed my backpack from the bench just inside the door where I’d left it when I got home with Xandra that afternoon. It was tough trying to protect people from the supernatural, especially when I still had chemistry homework to do. Juggling the water bottle, my bowl of steaming pasta that was scalding my palms and my overstuffed backpack, I wandered back through the empty kitchen. Just as I was about to turn the corner into my room, I overheard Mom whisper something to Dad in the office off the dining room.

  “She would never forgive me if she knew what I was doing…even if it was for her.”

  I froze, my skin prickling. I listened, unmoving, unspeaking, but nothing else came. I stood there, barely balanced, until I heard Mom moving back toward the living room. I hurried up the stairs, wondering just what I'd heard.

  Mom…what did you do?

  Chapter 20

  I think, in general, Thursday might be the worst day of the week. Sure, Mondays are bad, but at least you always know what to expect. Tuesday, a little better, you deal with. Wednesday is a day of excitement because, yay, the week is half done, I can do this!

  But Thursday…it’s like a teaser. It’s almost the weekend, but it isn’t. There's still another whole day before the weekend. But you’re already done and so tired, having been through so many days of the week already. Sure, only four in actuality, but it feels like so many.