I Kissed a Dog

by Carol Van Atta

  Well aware of what he was advising, I cut him off. “I know. And the recorder.” I pushed the elevated button on my new spy device. The minuscule recorder was secure, tucked in my purse’s outside pocket. “I need to count and take deep breaths.” I prepared to employ my usual calm-down-routine.

  Zane instructed with patience, “You need to look at me.”

  I glanced up. He gave me a look filled with unspoken confidence and admiration. “You’ll do great. Once Logan arrives, we’ll go in. He’ll introduce you. It’ll look better if you seem closer to him.”

  I nodded.

  Zane kissed my cheek. “You’ve got this, Princess.”

  Hoping his confidence wasn’t misplaced; I smoothed my skirt for the hundredth time.

  “Looking lovely, Mrs. Marshall,” Logan affirmed, as he appeared by my side. I jumped, still not used to people appearing from nowhere, and calling me Mrs. Marshall.

  Logan summarized what I already knew too well. “Remember, three of the elders will have their dogs. One German Shepherd, a Lab, and a feisty young Doberman.”

  Zane had located the canine companions’ photos for me to “study.” I’d never liked Dobermans. I was almost certain the dog that had sent me flying into the swimming pool, close to a decade ago, had been part dobby. I wasn’t ready to forgive the breed for its indiscretion.

  “Ready?” Zane asked.

  I managed a smile.

  Logan entered the room like a Greek god striding into his celestial palace. I envied his distinguished composure.

  The men in the room hurried to take their seats. Their reverence for the Pack Leader was evident. One man, his skin tanned and wrinkled like a well-worn hide, seemed unimpressed by Logan Sanders. I made a note to keep an eye on him.

  “Here Boss!” the same man commanded while taking his seat at the far table’s far end.

  I jerked back, when the largest Doberman I’d ever seen, trotted to his master’s side. The man flipped his grey-streaked ponytail over his shoulder and turned his piercing gaze on me. I felt like I was standing on a stage under the glare of a spotlight.

  The remaining men, and one lone woman, had taken their seats during the few short minutes I’d been occupied by the ancient Indian and his ferocious hound.

  Logan had referred to the beast as feisty. Feisty described Terrier pups, not this sleek, black, terror of a dog. I realized then that everyone was watching me expectantly. Talk about making a scene. Wanting to bolt from the room, I did the opposite and stepped toward an open chair next to Logan.

  When people talk about things happening in threes, they’re right. One: mean man and vicious dog staring me down. Two: table of strangers watching me with eerily chilly expressions. Three: I trip over nothing, and in what feels like slow motion, tumble toward what I somehow notice is plush, mauve carpeting. I hope it’s as soft and springy as it looks. I hear several gasps before two super-sized hands drag me to my feet.

  “Uh, thank you.” I try to smile like nothing happened and find myself looking up at the leathery face from the end of the table. “You …?”

  “There now,” he soothed like the parent of a frightened toddler. “Are you all right all right?”

  I allowed him to settle me into an expensive, high-backed chair. I was so far from feeling all right responding would have been blasphemous.

  He patted my shoulder and returned to his end-of-the-table seat where his dog posed like a regal warrior.

  Logan began, his voice firm and steady. “I guess this would be a good time to introduce my newest administrative assistant, Cassandra Carpenter.”

  Still dazed, it took me another endless minute to realize I was Cassandra Carpenter. We’d altered my name just enough to keep anyone from putting together my true identity. “Hi?” I gave an awkward parade wave.

  “Welcome,” several voices chorused.

  “Glad you could join us,” the other woman said. Some nodded. A few smirked — so much for instant acceptance.

  Unable to leave them with such a horrible first impression, I decided to make my own mini-speech. Something I’d later regret like everything else about the meeting.

  “That’s me, Cassandra Carpenter. Please forgive my grand entrance.”

  That earned a few strained chuckles.

  “I’ll be taking notes and just want to thank you all for welcoming me into your group.” I took my seat again in what I hoped was a demure fashion.

  Looking to Zane for approval, I noted instead he appeared both puzzled and perplexed. Chloe, Princess, do you think you could draw any more attention to yourself? Check your recorder and get your notepad. He quickly looked away, but not before my latest savior noticed our discreet interaction.

  What was with this guy? Friend or foe?

  I organized myself while the board members took ten minutes to “check in”. According to Logan, he was practicing a new ice breaker to loosen things up.

  For my benefit, everyone introduced themselves and gave me the opportunity to jot down their names. I drew a makeshift table and put the names in their proper order around the oblong shape, trusting this extra attention to detail would benefit me in the long run.

  All dogs were in attendance as expected. The chocolate lab lounged by his owner’s feet, head resting on his front paws. The German Shepherd panted; his doggy mouth turned up in a canine grin. Like the Doberman, he sat stiffly next to his owner’s chair. The lab and the shepherd were very interested in Logan and Zane’s unseen lupine qualities. They stared at the two werewolves, who appeared unaware of their latest admirers. Only the Doberman remained indifferent to Zane and Logan.

  The meeting started like any other board meeting. The last meeting’s minutes were reviewed. Old business was addressed, and then before I realized it, we were onto new business. I hadn’t even bothered to listen in on the pets. Nice work, I chastised myself.

  Keeping my pen poised over a half-filled notebook page, I searched the lab’s mind. I trusted the mini-recorder would take care of anything I missed while nosing around in the canine minds.

  The door to the dog’s thoughts swung wide open and I slipped in. His owner, Roger Ryker, a Native American male, in his fifties, and sporting cropped, graying hair, materialized in a majority of the dog’s visions. It was easy to see this was a good match. As far as I could tell, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Normal dog stuff was all the Labrador had on his mind.

  Disappointed, but happy for the two of them, I moved on to the beautifully-marked German shepherd, saving the dreaded dobby for last.

  The dog stiffened as I entered his thoughts. I probed as gently as I could, hoping he’d relax and reveal something of interest. I didn’t have to wait long.

  I was yanked into a recognizable but unexpected landscape. The dog and his owner were walking through the strange medical facility that I’d seen in the cloaked creature’s mind. They stopped at the foot of one of many beds, providing a close up view of a male patient. He wasn’t resting on his bed.

  He was strapped to it.

  His body writhed from side to side like an animal caught in a trap, experiencing unspeakable pain. Perspiration glistened on his face, which was turning an odd shade of gray.

  The shepherd stared up at his master, who during introductions had identified himself as Martin, one of the Makah Tribe elders. Martin leaned over the thrashing patient along with several men dressed in scrubs, and none other than the infamous redheaded woman.

  He met her gaze from across the bed. She gave a slight nod.

  “He’s not progressing. We all know what that means. But wait; make sure. We’ve been wrong before,” Martin instructed.

  “Then?” another man asked, glancing at his clipboard.

  “Kill him,” Martin said with a shrug. “We don’t need any more renegade baldies running around. We’ve caused enough problems cleaning up our mistakes.” He glanced sideways at the woman.

  She glared at Martin. “I’m certain you’re not blaming me for your screw ups.�
�� Her eyes flashed crimson. Martin flinched like he’d been stung.

  “Of course not, Mistress.” He inclined his head.

  “Blaming me wouldn’t be wise.” She moved around the table and behind Martin. Leaning over his shoulder, she whispered something that made the corner of his mouth rise.

  Without further comment, she strode with hips swaying, down the corridor, making it her own personal runway, high heels clicking on the concrete.

  The men gazed after her retreating figure, and then sighed in unanimous relief when she exited through the double doors. Martin was wearing a stupid little grin that gave him a slightly insane appearance. He’d been satiated by her whispered promise.

  I started to pull away from the vision, when the dog whimpered, recapturing my attention. Martin and the others stared down at their patient, who was transforming into something not human.

  He shriveled and shrunk, his skin becoming a railroad track of wrinkled lines and creases. His thick, blonde, mane-of-hair was falling out in clumps, making his head look like a shiny orb. I could almost see the veins pulsating beneath the thin cap of skin covering his skull. He looked like an alien featured on the Sci-fi Channel.

  What had started out as a normal-looking twenty-something male, had become what I now referred to as one of the ugly creatures, minus its cloak.

  Martin pulled a syringe from his pocket.

  “Look out!” I warned, realizing my error too late.

  Every board member was gaping — their eyes glued on me.

  So much for my simple administrative duties.

  By the strained expression on Zane’s face, it was evident I’d blown any opportunity to appear normal. As if I ever pulled off normal.

  I hoped the information I’d gleaned from Martin’s German Shepherd would redeem me. I dared to take a quick unassuming peek in his direction. He was frowning.

  The single person smiling was … I glanced down at my notebook —James McQuillen — the man who’d kept me from the face plant, and who owned Boss the Doberman, the dog I hadn’t had time to explore yet.

  I know what you are. He sent the message telepathically, lifting his water glass in a mock toast.

  ***

  Chapter 31

  The meeting’s remaining minutes passed without incident. There were a few heated words in response to Logan’s ideas for expansion into more family-friendly markets. The person most opposed to anything he suggested was the murderer, Martin. He could see no financial benefit to changing their already successful business model.

  While they were debating the details of Logan’s business plan, I made one unsuccessful attempt to infiltrate the mind of Boss, but the Doberman’s thoughts were guarded by a smoky haze. I could make out movements beyond the fog-like barrier, but was unable to latch onto anything of substance. His mysterious owner rested a hand on his pet’s head. I couldn’t help wondering if his hand somehow shielded the dog’s mind from my probing.

  The discussion regarding Logan’s new ideas had changed the meeting’s entire atmosphere. No one seemed the least bit interested in me or my note taking. I sipped coffee and counted the minutes until could tell Zane and Logan about Martin and Mr. McQuillen.

  I didn’t have to wait long before James McQuillen made the final announcement. “Thank you all for attending. Logan Sanders, our dear friend and business associate, has given us a great deal to consider. I also want to say it’s been a pleasure to welcome Cassandra to our group.” He nodded my direction. “Everyone is excused except for the elders.”

  “Back in fifteen,” Logan stated.

  I practically leapt from my seat, rushing into the hallway. Where was the little girls’ room when you needed one?

  “Excuse me, Ms. Carpenter?” the other woman, Maureen Harper, tapped my shoulder. “Are you looking for the ladies room?”

  Relieved to see her smile, I sighed. “Was it that obvious?”

  “Let’s just say, I know how it feels to be in a room of chauvinistic men for more than two hours. Follow me.”

  We exited our stalls in unison and faced the long mirror. I scrubbed my hands, wishing I could wipe away the filth of my lies. Keeping secrets from Zane was eating me from the inside out. I’d made a huge scene in Vegas over his supposed secrets, yet here I was carting around several biggies of my own. The biggest being that I’d made out with a very sexy and powerful vampire, not once, but twice. And I’d liked it.

  I’d also somehow managed to pull one of his closest friends into my scheming. If I felt this bad, Alcuin had to be feeling worse. Or did he? I wasn’t convinced that vampires handled their emotions the same way as humans.

  “Are you okay?” Maureen asked, now rubbing her palms together under the dryer.

  I was still washing.

  Realizing how silly I must look, I rinsed and shut off the water. “I’m just nervous. I made an utter fool of myself.”

  Maureen leaned toward the mirror, and expertly applied a burgundy shade of lipstick. “I’ve been there. Shake it off. The next meeting is the most important.”

  “What’s different?” I hated to appear so naïve.

  “For one, it’s just the elders. There will be several additions to the group, and we’ll be discussing some pretty serious issues. I’m guessing Logan’s at least briefed you on the Plum Beach murders.”

  Not sure what to say, I nodded, and made a point of finding my own lipstick.

  “I’m certain, if you’re working in this capacity with him, you know his real identity?” She arched one sculpted brow, anticipating my reply.

  Two young women breezed in, interrupting us. I tried not to look too relieved.

  Maureen glanced at her Rolex. “We better get going.”

  Back at the table, I drew another map and scribbled the names of those still in attendance. James McQuillen, Maureen Harper, Logan and Zane, Roger Ryker, and two newcomers — Jonas Kallappa and Theo Secor. The fact that Martin the Murderer was absent renewed my hope that I could end the meeting on a positive note.

  “Why’d Martin leave?” Theo Secor asked gruffly.

  “Because I asked him to,” said McQuillen. “We’ve all got places to be. Let’s get down to our most recent problem. Zane, updates from Plum Beach?” McQuillen crossed his arms over his barreled chest.

  “We’ve had four murders. All young men, none over thirty. It’s been a week since the last victim. I’ve also found the animal reader.”

  My breath caught. What was he doing? I thought I was a secret. I grabbed my glass, nearly inhaling the water.

  Zane wasn’t done. “Considering Martin is no longer present, I’d like you to meet Chloe Carpenter.” He stood and extended his hand, which I refused.

  I was enraged. How dare he do this without warning me? Was he crazy? Now my so-called cover was blown to pieces. Talk about keeping secrets! And to think I’d been ready to reveal mine.

  James McQuillen grinned. “I was right.”

  Good for you! I barked silently for his ears alone.

  He had the nerve to throw back his head and laugh, like a maniac as far as I was concerned. Whatever the joke, I missed it, but everyone else chuckled right along with him.

  Zane remained stone-faced.

  Good for him. Had he laughed, I would have marched out of the room and called for Valamir. Well, maybe not Valamir, but Alciun for sure. I couldn’t wait to leave for Portland now.

  Bye bye, Zane, and bye bye guilt.

  “I’m glad you all find this so amusing; I don’t. For all I know, one of you is a bad guy.” I glared around the table, searching for any reaction to my accusation. No one fidgeted or looked worried.

  “Chloe, please, accept my apology. The reason I laugh is because with all your natural curiosity you didn’t even wonder why or how I could communicate with you mentally.”

  I took a longer look McQuillen and his dog. He couldn’t be.

  In answer to my silent question, he shimmered and vanished below the table. I heard the unmistakable shifting of
bones and stretching of flesh. Then Boss barked and licked the giant wolf that’d appeared in place of McQuillen.

  The Doberman looked like a puppy next to the massive silver wolf. He was a majestic creature. Silvery white, McQuillen seemed to shine.

  He padded around the table and sat by my chair, placing a massive paw on my lap. I couldn’t help myself. My hand was drawn to his lush fur like a magnet to metal.

  “You’re so handsome,” I heard myself coo.

  “That’s what you said to me,” Zane grumbled.

  I turned to glare at my mate. “You should probably not talk to me right now.”

  When I looked back, McQuillen, still in wolf form, was dragging his own clothing into a small kitchenette in the back of the boardroom. Boss followed.

  “That’s not something you see every day,” I muttered. “I think I’ll keep all this out of the official notes.” I looked to Logan for approval. His immediate thumbs up signal provided no room for doubt.

  A few minutes later, with McQuillen back in his place, I shared what I’d learned from Martin’s dog. No one seemed surprised, which surprised me.

  “I’ve found some inconsistencies of my own in relation to Martin,” McQuillen offered. “I gave him an assignment to get him out of here. Logan, you know I haven’t trusted him for some time.”

  “Agreed,” Logan said.

  Maureen grinned at me. “I had a feeling you might be the one. You don’t know how much you’ve already helped. We need to locate this medical facility, pronto. Any ideas?”

  No one had a clue.

  “I’ll have to read the shepherd again.” I didn’t like the idea, but I couldn’t think of a better alternative.

  “Don’t you worry about that just yet. You’ve got plenty on your plate staying safe and keeping tabs on the happenings in Plum Beach,” McQuillen said.

  “Who is this redhead, anyway?” Roger Ryker spoke up.

  “Your guess is as good as anyone’s. I can’t help but think she’s somehow tied to Jazmine,” Zane said. He shot me a questioning look. Forgive me? I knew you’d be too edgy. You were ready to hyperventilate.