I Kissed a Dog

by Carol Van Atta

  “Chef Salad,” I piped up, realizing she was still staring at my companion, ignoring my presence. Was I invisible? Considering the number of men who dared sneak a look my direction, I guessed not.

  “You sure have your share of admirers,” Zane noted with a hint of annoyance.

  “Nothing compared to you. I thought our waitress might slobber or hang her tongue out. I bet she’s still panting.” I watched as she moved to another table, reluctant to turn away.

  “Are you jealous?” He asked; his lopsided grin back on display, dimples and all.

  Was I? I hadn’t been jealous for a long time.

  “Well hello, Zane,” a sultry female voice interrupted our banter. “How unexpected to find you here.” Her eyes traveled over the room with obvious distaste.

  “Jazmine,” he growled, not pleased by her intrusion.

  “Mind if I join you?” Without hesitating, she glided into the booth beside him, resting a hand on his bicep. Her bright crimson nails shimmered; her malice-filled eyes, dark like Zane’s, gleamed at me.

  “Can I get you anything?” The perky waitress returned, looking as aggravated by the new woman’s presence as I was.

  “I’ll be just a moment.” A curt wave dismissed the girl. Ms. Perky marched off. I sympathized with the waitress’ wounded pride.

  Jazmine was as stunning as she was ice-cold. I didn’t need to see the tags to know she was a Designer Fashion Week regular. Her sheen black hair was cut in a neat geometrical bob that framed her face, drawing attention to her sculpted cheekbones and heart-shaped lips. Her makeup was applied with such obvious expertise that I thought of a model I’d seen on the cover of Vogue.

  That model had looked genuinely happy, this woman oozed of cruel intent.

  “You’ve been avoiding my calls.” Jazmine sulked, caressing Zane’s arm with her graceful fingers. He shook her off.

  You’ll be my mate. Tradition requires it. Her eyes flashed with a myriad of emotions.

  My jaw dropped, turning my gaping mouth into a capital O. The woman’s bizarre thought had permeated my mind. Realizing how I must look, I shut my mouth and reached for a slice of bread.

  “I told you I’m busy with business. We’ll talk at the scheduled time. And be aware; your behavior is not earning you any points,” Zane snapped.

  “Oh, now I have to earn points.” She tsked. “I’d hate for you to lose …”

  “Enough!” he growled.

  With one final, scathing glance my direction, she rose fluidly and vanished out the door

  Following her exit, the noise returned to the room.

  It was then I recognized that following her arrival, everything had somehow revolved around her. She reminded me of a predator stalking its prey. All the other “animals”, had remained silent, hoping to avoid the hunter’s detection.

  I hadn’t succeeded in avoiding anything.

  She was well-aware of my existence, and she already abhorred me. In one meeting I’d become the mysterious woman’s enemy. Between her and Rhonda, I was pretty unpopular.

  “Don’t mind Jazmine.” Zane guzzled his beer.

  Stunned by his casual comment, I leaned forward, ready to battle. “You’re kidding, right?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “Some crazy woman, with eyes like a rabid dog, comes in, and from what I could tell, pretty much threatens you. Oh, and I guess you didn’t notice the way she looked at me.”

  “Your dinners.” The waitress slid our heaping platters in front of us and hurried away. Smart woman!

  Zane grabbed his knife and fork and sliced into a steak big enough to feed four. He tore off a huge chunk of bloody beef and swallowed it whole.

  I struggled not to gag. Sure, I liked red meat, but not when it was still mooing.

  “I’ll deal with Jazmine. She’s just a business partner. She likes me; I don’t like her. End of story.” He tore off another piece, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Realizing I was watching him with disgust, he grabbed a napkin and wiped his chin.

  “What type of business?” I couldn’t begin to eat until Zane finished. At least he had one glaringly imperfect trait, he ate like a savage. He must have been on better behavior during lunch.

  Leaning back for a minute, he considered his words. “We both do work for a chain of casino resorts in Washington and Nevada. We’ve had some issues with one of our Washington locations.”

  “Which one?” I half remembered reading something about a Washington Indian tribe hoping to develop casino sites off their reservation. I also recalled there’d been an alleged murder associated with the request.

  “Wild Winds.”

  “Wasn’t there a murder up there last year?” Of course I’d remembered. My memory was impeccable.

  “Will anything I say convince you I’m just a regular guy with a normal, sometimes dysfunctional life?”

  “It’s the dysfunctional part that concerns me.” I tried not to smile. Zane had devoured his steak and seemed eager to put an end to my questioning. Maybe I could let go of my suspicious nature for the rest of the evening. After all, I’d have day after day at work to scrutinize him.

  “And you’re not at all dysfunctional?” He cocked his head, reminding me of the cute Pit-bull puppy I’d interviewed earlier.

  “Fine! You win!” I stabbed at my salad, no longer able to ignore the painful grumbles. “If I had a middle name, it would be dysfunctional.”

  Several drinks later, we were chatting away like old friends, Jazmine and his gruesome eating habits forgotten.

  For the first time since I could remember, I shared the entire coma incident story. Zane was an adept listener, nodding at the right times and commenting when appropriate. For the most part, he let me talk. I’d forgotten how good it felt to open up with no agenda. Talking about my gift was a huge relief.

  “You’re a pretty darn good listener, Zane Marshall.” I could tell the glasses of wine had done their magic, lubricating my libido. As a very sporadic drinker, it didn’t take much.

  “Why thank you, lovely lady. By the way, your skin tone is fabulous. May I ask your background?”

  Usually people ho-hummed around, afraid to ask questions about my ethnicity. I’d always wondered what the big deal was. My caramel coloring was courtesy of my Caucasian mother and my real dad’s half African half Native American heritage. Bob, my illustrious stepfather, was as white as white can be.

  “I’m a smorgasbord.” I giggled, realizing my mistake too late.

  “Um, I love a good smorgasbord,” he all but groaned, his eyes growing smoky. I want her.

  I felt a jolt of primal hunger so intense I was afraid I might climb across the table and into his lap. Astonished that those three simple words had managed to escape from behind his mental barrier, I tried to listen for more. The wall had returned, but his eyes smoldered with anticipation.

  All I had to do was reach for him.

  My breathing grew ragged as he watched my internal struggle.

  “I need to get home,” I managed to stutter. “Work,” I apologized, as if he didn’t know my schedule. Defying my still-pounding heart was as impossible as ignoring a stampede of wild horses. I wondered if he could sense my desire and uncertainty.

  “As you wish,” he said, his voice husky.

  I jumped up before I could change my mind. “I need to use the ladies room.”

  Touching up my makeup, I tried to find my usual composure. It wasn’t easy. Closing my eyes, I breathed in through my nose, starting my proverbial counting routine.

  As soon as my mind relaxed, a flood of words rushed in.

  He’s in there. I saw Jazmine leave. She looked pretty pissed.

  What’s new? She’s a bitch.

  Laughter.

  Let’s deliver our message to Zane and have a little fun with his female.

  She’s human.

  Your point?

  How many were there? I wasn’t sure, but at least three men were waiting outside the bar, and their intentions for us were
far from honorable.

  Zane was finishing his beer when I rejoined him. He sensed my mood change.

  “What happened?” He slammed his glass down. “Did she come back?”

  “No, but someone wants to hurt you. There’s a group of men outside waiting for us. Don’t ask me how I know, because until today, I could only read animals, but somehow I can now hear specific people. They mentioned Jazmine.”

  “Great. I didn’t want to drag you into my personal problems.”

  “I take it this is part of the dysfunctional stuff,” I snapped, feeling let down. Though a part of me wanted to believe he was protecting me.

  “You stay in here. I’ll handle this.”

  “Oh no! You’re not leaving me behind. What if something happens to you?” Just then it occurred to me that there were people trained to deal with stalking psychopaths. “Why don’t we call the police?”

  “Not a good idea.” Zane was on his feet. His features had morphed from relaxed to intense. He reminded me of a vicious dog. “Is there any way you can sense where they’re positioned?” He sniffed the air.

  “I’m not sure. I can try.” I closed my eyes and attempted to erase the terrifying images I’d already conjured in my mind. The voices returned. I could visualize the men. There were three — one by the Corvette; two in the woods behind the restaurant, around thirty feet from our vehicles. They were contemplating entering the bar.

  “They’re tired of waiting,” I warned. “Three males, all near our cars. Two out of sight, hiding in the brush.”

  “Them coming in here is not an option.” He swung around giving the room a once over. “Too many people.”

  “Zane, some of these locals are pretty tough. Why not get some help?” I couldn’t fathom why he was so hung up on doing this alone.

  Before I could comment further, he stalked from the bar, ignoring my calls for him to wait.

  Men! I decided to do the one thing I could — eavesdrop.

  Seeing the check had been paid, I grabbed my purse and hurried to the entrance. There were benches hugging the lobby walls and the area was deserted. Away from the crowded bar, I could pay better attention to what was happening outside.

  Who sent you? Zane demanded.

  Don’t play coy, Marshall. The Indians are on to you. They don’t like our kind.

  Your kind is the problem! Zane growled, sounding more feral than human.

  That’s right. I forgot; you’re one of those high and mighty purebreds. In their eyes we’re all the same.

  The talking stopped and fighting started.

  In my vision, I heard a series of vicious dog-like snarls and an ear-shattering roar, followed by what sounded like bones snapping.

  Too afraid to do nothing, I charged for the door, forgetting my aversion to dogs and danger.

  ***

  Chapter 7

  The ferocious snarls and a few whimpers were coming from the wooded area off to the bar’s right side.

  I dodged between vehicles, searching for what I knew were four men in a barbaric death match.

  An overpowering need to protect Zane increased with every step.

  My lone weapon, from Bob, of course, was a never-before-used canister of mace. Until this moment, I’d never had reason to wield it. With my hands shaking, I held it in front of me like a too-heavy sword. I slunk into the woods, ready to fire into an attacker’s eyes given the chance.

  What I saw in a small clearing rocked my understanding of reality as I’d known it.

  Two men lay twisted and bloody on the ground.

  Intestines spilled from one man’s torn abdomen, darkening the ground with a foul, clumpy fluid. A third struggled to his feet, aiming a gun at what appeared to be a humungous black bear standing at least seven feet tall on two hind legs.

  It was not a bear.

  The creature looked like a wolf hybrid from some horror movie with topnotch special effects. Its muzzle, longer than an average wolf’s, rippled, and its lips curled back, revealing long spiked fangs, still covered with its victim’s juices. Blood poured from a jagged gash on its massive shoulder.

  I didn’t see Zane anywhere.

  The strange man and monster circled each other like two wrestlers in a ring.

  The man was built like Zane, with cropped yellow hair. He carried himself with confidence even while facing the lethal beast. It was easy to see without the gushing wound, the wolf-thing would have already disarmed and destroyed its human adversary, regardless of the man’s courageous demeanor.

  “Back down! I don’t want to do this!” the man yelled, shaking the pistol.

  The wolf-creature appeared to drop lower in what I assumed was a posture of belated surrender. The man seemed to agree with my assessment and lowered his weapon. A relieved sigh escaped through my clenched teeth.

  Any relief was short-lived.

  The wolf, moving swifter than anything I’d ever seen, ripped into his final opponent’s throat, tearing the flesh open.

  Shrieking, the blond man crumpled to the ground, his blood staining the grass.

  His head tumbled from his slumped shoulders, rolling to rest just an inch from my toes.

  My own screams sliced through the darkness, silencing the remaining night sounds. I knew the music in the bar was too loud. No one could hear me. Unless maybe an exiting or entering customer happened upon me, I was alone with the murderous wolf creature.

  What could a mere man do to help anyway? He’d end up slaughtered like the others.

  The beast at last dropped to all fours, giving it a more wolf-like appearance. Its glowing eyes stared with longing in my direction. Was it going to eat me? Kill me?

  Instead, a mournful howl erupted from its cavernous mouth before it lunged into the deeper foliage.

  Later, back home, I sat slumped in my favorite L-Z-Boy recliner, feet up. Every few minutes I’d shake all over. And in a few short hours, I’d become a shell of my normal cheery self.

  Disgusted for not calling the police sooner, I reached for the phone then pulled back.

  What would I say? How could I explain the evening’s events? I had the FBI agent’s card, but couldn’t bring myself to look for it.

  For some ridiculous reason, I still felt protective of Zane. I had no idea where he’d disappeared to or if he’d somehow managed to survive the unearthly encounter. What if I inadvertently implicated him?

  All I knew for certain: the universe was home to things far more foreign than my unusual ability to communicate with animals.

  Right now was one time I wished I had closer friendships. I could call Luke, but then I’d have to explain my time with Zane. I hadn’t spoken with Melanie since her divorce last month. With her personal beliefs and paranormal stories gaining popularity, she’d at least hear me out. My parents were not an option.

  Unable to sleep and not sure what else to do, I flipped open my laptop and logged online.

  Wolfman, I typed and watched the links pop up. It was then I realized the one word I’d been searching for: Werewolf.

  That had to be it! I’d seen a real, honest to God, werewolf.

  Just reading the word prompted an avalanche of memories from my day — hearing what must have been Zane’s “beautiful bitch” comment; the park’s wolf, Randall, and his vision of a huge black wolf that he’d referred to as brother; Zane’s odd interaction with the very same wolf; Zane’s superhuman speed and strength; Jazmine’s reference to her future mate; the three men’s comments about me being a human; the vision of the monster in Will’s bedroom; the brutal murders. It all made sense now, sort of. Zane, my potential dream man, was a werewolf. He’d beheaded someone with his own teeth. He was a vicious killer and the full moon stories had nothing to do with his ability to change. He’d shifted at will.

  There was more. I remembered the three would-be assailants referring to Zane as a purebred. What did that make them?

  They weren’t human.

  I’d tried earlier today, with no success, to read my v
ery human coworkers. No wonder I’d heard the thugs! They were part animal! What did that make Jazmine? — One scary bitch.

  Horror and anger collided as I remembered the hatred in Jazmine’s eyes, sending my body into a series of spasms. My teeth chattered as the tears flowed again. I thought I’d released every fear and tear back at Will’s. Apparently not. I made no effort to hold back now.

  What I’d endured in less than twenty four hours was enough to make the toughest diehard crazy with fright. Without my special ability, I’d have continued my life unaware of the supernatural world around me. I felt better knowing. Knowing meant I could prepare and take precautions to protect myself and the people I cared about.

  Still too wired to sleep after the tears subsided, and desperate to know more, my fingers flew across the keyboard as I conducted my first ever research project on werewolves.

  Of course I’d fall for a dog, a damn dog. Talk about irony. Someone out there had a sick sense of humor. I hadn’t bargained for this when I’d said my half-hearted prayer for excitement yesterday morning.

  Bob had always warned us to be careful what we wished for, another life lesson I’d ignored.

  As expected, the Internet was filled with abundant folklore in relation to werewolves, or lycanthropes, as they were referred to in Greek. Some were said to have mystical powers, including superb senses and strength. But the stories, overall, featured dramatic differences, making it difficult to determine the facts, if any, that were relevant to all so-called werewolves.

  I wondered if one of Zane’s powers was his ability to break a woman’s heart in forty-eight hours or less. It would seem if my heart was any indication, he was heartbreak material.

  Looking back, his protective nature was without a doubt lupine. My old mutt, Buddy Boy, would have fought off Butch the lion to save me, given the chance. Zane had been protective fromprotective from the start. That thought gave me some comfort. He hadn’t been running around rescuing anyone else.

  Sometime before dawn on Tuesday, with my thoughts becoming even more incoherent, I closed my computer.