I Kissed a Dog

by Carol Van Atta

  Could he be God’s will for my life?

  I don’t understand why I can communicate with animals, but I have accepted that gift. Was Zane another puzzling gift? My stomach’s insistent growls overrode my questions, for now, anyway. After recovering from our homemade Breakfast of Champions, and seeing the two M’s off to work, we decided to snoop, or, in Zane’s case, sniff around the crime scenes, starting with the oldest first.

  I discovered Zane, being a purebred werewolf, had two options for shifting shapes. He could manifest into the wolfy, humanoid form I’d seen that first night behind the bar. In that formable shape, he appeared more closely related to the mutants. But, unlike his malformed counterparts, he could function on all fours too, making him a versatile killing machine.

  Today, he’d morphed into an enormous, black wolf with bright amber eyes that mirrored intelligence not typical for any animal. His intimidating size made him significantly larger than any wolf I’d seen, giving me pause when he first emerged from the brush.

  Before his change, he’d made sure to explain that his sense of smell was sharper when he was in his most natural form. Also, should anyone stumble upon us, he’d pass as an ordinary wolf.

  “You think you are an ordinary wolf?” I laughed.

  After watching me watch him, he padded over to my side, inclining his massive head. Yes, you can pet me.

  That was the encouragement I needed. Dropping to my knees, I buried my face into the thick, mane-like fur around his neck. He pressed himself against me, allowing me to explore his supple coat. I ran my hands down his back and hugged him closer. He made as a happy growl. Being with him in his wolf form put me at ease. There was gentleness under the wildness. Gentleness I’d detected in his human form, but was too afraid of being vulnerable to acknowledge.

  Despite my fear of emotional exposure, I allowed myself the luxury of praising his magnificence. “You are incredible,” I cooed, scratching behind his ears.

  He nudged me playfully with his muzzle. Losing my balance, I toppled over. “Hey! We’ve got work to do.”

  Scrambling to my feet I brushed a few stray leaves off my backside, noticing the way his eyes traveled over me. Even in wolf form he was still a flirt. I was relieved to see his new hands-off-policy didn’t stop his appreciative glances.

  I was enjoying being checked out by an animal. Something I’d never admit.

  Okay, Miss Bossy, he teased silently. What do you know about our first victim?

  Prior to our excursion, I’d spent a good hour on the Internet searching for any information. Victim number one — Jordon Smart — had been a part time dad; he’d just turned twenty-nine. As a special education aide, he’d worked in the fifth-grade classroom at the local grade school. Nothing about him appeared out of the ordinary, at first glance.

  I had developed a whole new regard for first impressions. Just because Mr. Smart appeared normal, didn’t mean he had been. I wasn’t even sure how to define normal anymore.

  His son, a sixth grader, had alternated between both parent’s homes. Mom also worked in the education field, at the nearby administrative building.

  The boy had discovered the grisly remains of his father. So traumatized, he was now residing in one of Portland’s psychiatric facilities for youth. According to news’ sources, he hadn’t said a word since the gruesome discovery. Getting him to speak was my personal project. Only Zane didn’t know it yet. I wasn’t sure why I felt compelled to help the kid, but I did. I’d figure out how later.

  After explaining what I’d discovered, we hiked through the overgrown grass and circled around the ranch style home. Nothing seemed out of place. The yellow tape was long gone and everything appeared peaceful.

  Zane raised his muzzle. He closed his eyes, sniffing, before lowering his snout to the ground. Alert, he slunk toward the back door.

  By the way, Princess, I have a few extra abilities I haven’t told you about. Instead of elaborating, the doorknob turned as if gripped by an invisible hand. A click followed and it cracked open.

  When were you planning to tell me what else you can do, Wolfman? Awed and angry, I fired the thought into his mind, recalling why he aggravated me ¯ too many secrets.

  He lifted his front paw and cocked his enormous head. Each shape I take includes a few extra perks. That little trick makes up for the lack of hands. He wiggled his paw.

  Seeing his display of such human antics dissolved my anger. How could an animal be so damn charming!

  Too late, I realized I’d sent my thought right into his furry head, officially making Zane the first wolf I’d seen grin. His tail wagged enthusiastically.

  A crash from inside warned us that we weren’t alone and whatever was inside probably wasn’t friendly.

  Zane’s fur stood on end and his gums receded, revealing a set of fangs any vampire would envy. He crouched, ready to spring.

  Immobilized, I waited and forced my mind to tune into the intruder. What I latched on to was unlike any animal mind I’d ever explored. It wasn’t like any supe mind either, at least not the super naturals I’d met.

  A swirling red and black mass of repugnant and jumbled thoughts poured into my mind. I pushed harder, urging myself to delve deeper. My efforts were rewarded by visions of blood stained walls, disemboweled men, and the redheaded woman screeching orders at men in medical scrubs.

  An inhuman wail severed me from the images. Before I could reattach, a cloaked shape burst from the house.

  Zane lunged. His teeth latched onto its robe, tearing a piece from its shriveled body. Bald and wrinkled, the thing looked like an elderly baby. It keened again and vanished.

  “What the hell!” I stared at Zane. A long shred of material dangled from his mouth.

  Possibly something from the Fae world. Another mutant life form …

  I interrupted, “In other words, you don’t know.”

  He shook his head. We still need to go in. There’s no one left here that I can sense.

  Unwilling to trust his instincts, I scanned the area for additional energy sources. Zane waited for my assessment. Once satisfied, I snatched the burgundy material from his mouth. It was a rougher fabric than I’d expected, and touching it made me cringe. Disturbing images of the stooped, naked creature would haunt me for a long time.

  When I looked up, Zane was already nudging the backdoor open with his nose. Not wanting to be left alone for even a second, I bounded up the stairs.

  Just inside, he bristled. I waited behind him, following as he made his way across the kitchen. Glancing over my shoulder, I expected to see the creature reaching for what was left of his tattered robe. All I observed was a semi-sunny sky and grass bending in the breeze. Taking a deep breath through my nose and then exhaling, I continued behind Zane as he padded further into the house.

  Accepting we were alone, Zane seemed to relax and darted around the room, his nose to the carpet.

  I felt drawn to the master bedroom where the murder had taken place. Not sure what I’d find, I started down the hall trying to imagine what the Smart boy had experienced. He’d most likely entered his home expecting to find his father waiting with dinner on the table, eager to hear about the game.

  The newspaper had described Joshua Smart as an outgoing boy who excelled at baseball. According to the press, Jordon Smart had died at approximately 4:30 PM. Joshua’s game finished up around 7:30 PM.

  Joshua, expecting a warm welcome from his father, had been met with excruciating silence. There would have been a horrific odor. The metallic smell of blood combined with the pungent stench of death — it was no wonder the boy wasn’t talking.

  My thoughts reverted to the gruesome scene Josh’s puppy had imprinted on my mind, and my soul. Queasy, I spun around prepared to escape.

  How would I help Joshua Smart if I fled now?

  Drawing a ragged breath, I prepared myself to enter the bedroom. Zane brushed against my leg and whimpered. Grateful for his support, even in wolf form, I rested my hand on his thick ne
ck and let him lead the way.

  It was evident that a crime scene clean up service had already performed their special brand of magic. The blood and gore had been removed, leaving the former murder scene spotless. An offensive odor remained, though mild, it still triggered my gag reflex.

  Zane with his heightened senses prowled through the room.

  No matter how long I live, I’ll never get used to the smell of death. I flashed to age thirteen. Our cat was locked in the car on a hundred-degree day. The car had to be sold. Nothing could rid it of the stench — or memories.

  No doubt, Zane agreed. The cleaning people did well, but that lingering odor ... I’m sorry, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  Appreciative of his support, I patted his head. We’re here, so let’s look around.

  Zane kept his muzzle glued to the carpet as he rounded the room. When he reached the corner, by the bed’s left side, he paused. Can you take a closer look at this plant?

  The fake tree in the corner was one of several. Mr. Smart must’ve liked a green touch without watering. They were dust-free and shiny-green courtesy of whatever cleaning products the crew had used.

  For one brief terrible moment, before pawing through the branches and leaves, I imagined the tree painted with blood. Blinking away the picture, I sifted through the fake moss.

  Anything? Zane questioned.

  Not that I can see. What did you smell? I didn’t know where else to look.

  Something that shouldn’t be here, but I don’t recognize it.

  I stared at the tree wishing it would speak. My eyes glided from top to bottom. Bottom! Ignoring Zane’s questioning look, I stood up and tugged the tree from its wicker container, yanking the moss out with it. I peered into the basket.

  At first glance; nothing; but with closer examination I spotted a tarnished coin, five times the size of a quarter. It was covered with exotic symbols.

  Gleeful, I shouted: “Ah ha!” Why not use a microphone? My wolfy husband shook his massive head.

  Sorry. I didn’t expect to find anything.

  I see; you doubted my tracking abilities?

  Debating his tracking abilities, where a man had been shredded to pieces, wasn’t practical. Can we clean up and get out of here?

  Zane turned and trotted toward the door leaving me to clean up the mess.

  What a dog.

  Chapter 2213

  Driving Zane’s Corvette gave me a feeling of power. It roared down 101 like a beast on wheels, devouring the road. I could tame this beast without getting my heart broken or my body parts munched on for dinner.

  Back in human form, Zane examined the coin on the way to our next stop — Miles McCray’s trailer park — Plum Beach murder victim number two’s less than pristine property.

  Miles, a high school dropout, had been working at the local ARCO station for the past ten years, content to stay close to his parents. One news clip stated his mother still referred to him as her “little champ.” Family members observed that Miles was what you might call simple or slow; a man still dependent on his mom. Friends called him an all-around nice guy.

  After pouring over a blurry satellite photo, I’d dug up on the Internet, it was clear just how overcrowded the trailer park was. Zane determined with so many trailers jammed into such a crowded space we’d be safer waiting for nightfall before entering Miles’ singlewide. He’d also enlisted help from Alcuin, whose vampire talents would provide the edge we needed.

  The vampire would manipulate the thoughts of nearby neighbors, while shielding us from any observant onlookers. Well known for its all-night parties and drug deals, it was doubtful neighbors went to bed before dawn.

  Zane thought it was wise for us to drive through and examine the layout prior to our evening excursion.

  “Slow down. There! The gravel road.” He motioned me right, clenching the coin.

  “Thanks,” I grumped, still annoyed by his behavior at the Smart’s place. He’d somewhat redeemed himself using his little handless trick to clean up the potted tree, but I hadn’t completely forgiven his attitude.

  “Can we call a truce? It’s hard enough visiting murder scenes without us fighting,” he suggested, sounding remorseful.

  He was right, now wasn’t the time to nurse any left over grudges. I nodded and forced a smile. “You’re forgiven, for the moment.” I realized I didn’t so much doubt his skills as I hated not knowing what extra talents remained hidden. My tolerance for surprises, and secrets, had reached an all-time low.” Spotting the turnoff, I flipped the blinker.

  “Pull over!” His eyes narrowed. “There are mutants here. I feel them.”

  Obeying without question, I parked as close as I could to the entrance without drawing attention.

  I sent out my own mental feelers and validated Zane’s suspicions. The mutants hadn’t bothered shielding their thoughts. They weren’t expecting company. Good news for us. Wanting to take advantage of our momentary luck, I probed the creature’s minds and prepared to transmit my findings into Zane’s. I was stunned to realize my special abilities had expanded again.

  This time, I was able to hitch a ride in one of the mutant’s minds, similar to what I’d done with Zane during the Detective Davis Fiasco at his place. I could actually feel what the creature felt, see everything he saw, and hear what he heard. Talk about a triple threat.

  It took me a minute to digest the multitude of unfamiliar sensations bombarding my senses and filter the information in a logical way that Zane could grasp.

  I was viewing my surroundings from inside one of three mutants who crouched in the cramped trailer digging through drawers and a large box. I assumed the confined space belonged to murder victim number two: Miles McCray.

  The terrible trio’s elongated snouts lifted in unison, twitching as they sought any foreign scents. I feared they’d pinpointed us.

  Relieved to be wrong, I sighed when they resumed searching.

  My newfound ability to listen from inside a mutant wasn’t the same as being the mutant. I had the capacity to view the entire scene and remain in total control of myself. Influencing the monster’s thoughts or actions wasn’t possible either. For that I was grateful. Managing that kind of power wasn’t something I wanted. Especially since I couldn’t begin to grasp what I was doing anymore.

  Leaving my analysis for later, I honed in on my environment as experienced through my mutant host.

  The largest of the three beasts stood with a guttural grunt. He towered in the cluttered trailer; his pointy ears brushing the ceiling. This massive and cruelly malformed man-wolf filled the limited space.

  What should have been hands were a grotesque permutation of paws and claws; just a hint of humanness remained. The five twisted appendages, featuring an oversized thumb, scarcely mirrored a human hand riddled with arthritis. Filthy, spike-like-nails protruded from the furry tips — nails that would slit a throat like a hot knife slicing butter.

  Had we been friends, I would have recommended, without delay, a manicure for all three.

  “Stryder, are you certain this is the place?” the creature standing faced the mutant called Stryder, the one whose eyes I was hiding behind.

  “That’s what she said,” Stryder snarled.

  I could sense his frustration with the situation and the larger beast. I didn’t blame him. The biggest mutant was a menace; more so than his companions. I could feel the difference.

  The third added, “We’ve looked everywhere. Maybe someone got to it first.” You stupid mongrel, he added telepathically. Like Stryder, his irritation was directed at the mutant looming over them.

  It was evident that mutant number two and three did not like number one in charge. Making matters worse for us all, number one stank like rotting fish. Had I been able to manipulate Stryder, he would have recoiled at the stench. It seemed he was immune to the odor.

  “Who could have gotten here first? And what about the protective wards?” Stinky Mutant asked.

  Wards and sp
ells, there’s always a loophole, Stryder thought. No ward is impenetrable. Someone with stronger magic can break through. As if you’d think of that! His eyes flashed red, leaving no doubt where his piercing stare and degrading thought was focused — on the revolting swine in charge of their failed search.

  Are you getting all this? I mind-messaged Zane, ensuring he could see the mutants as well as hear them. There’s some serious trouble in paradise.

  It makes no sense. Unless the coin we found is what they’re referring to. But what does it have to do with the murders?

  “The Mistress will be furious by our lack of success,” Stryder growled. I can’t wait till that bitch gets bitten. She’s the one who deserves to die.

  With Stryder’s last thought, the red-headed woman’s picture scrolled through his mind; proving that everything was in some way connected to her.

  Maybe she was a real witch not just a bitch. I’d seen stranger this week. Why not add a witch into the mix? If I could find a Witches and Wards Book for Dummies I’d be set. In truth, I was lacking, in a major way, the knowledge to fight effectively against my supernatural opponents.

  “Do you two have a problem with me?” the massive mutant challenged his subordinates, making me forget my concerns about witches. He glared down at Stryder who glowered back, undaunted.

  Faster than I imagined in such a small space, Stryder was up snout to snout with his comrade. “I have a problem with the entire situation. The Mistress is making too many mistakes, and I don’t want to suffer the consequences for her inability to clean up her messes.”

  “Questioning our Mistress is not in your best interest,” Stinky Mutant (that was my new name for him) cautioned. “I realize this is frustrating, but we must follow orders. We’re done here.”

  “Go!” Zane shouted, dragging my mind back to the car. “We don’t want to be sitting here when they come out.”

  Slamming the car in reverse, I spun around and headed back the way we’d come. I didn’t want them to see us drive past the entrance. Zane’s Corvette was more than memorable, and Jazmine was well aware of what vehicle he drove, making it all the more probable the mutants knew too.