“He’s free. But there’s a $25 adoption fee that goes to the Humane Society for their costs, mostly for his shots. It’s all on the sign.”
She looked for a sign, and finally saw it above her eye level. It explained the situation and the fees. It also said she got a free leash and bag of food with the dog.
“Is he housebroken?”
The man shrugged. “The Society says he is, and he does his business when I take him outside. But I’m not guaranteeing anything.”
She nodded. The puppy sat down and watched her. He seemed not only sad but wary; even his little overture in the beginning had been cautious, not effusive, the way most puppies were.
Ariel crouched in front of the cage. He came toward her, tail wagging again, but he didn’t get too close.
That sadness—it was so deep. And finally, she had it. The dog reminded her of Vari. Andrew Vari’s eyes were that wary and that sad, especially when he looked at her.
Just last week, she had overheard Blackstone tell Vari he needed some kind of pet. Vari had said he was looking for one but couldn’t find the right thing.
This basset hound was right; she knew it.
She also knew that a person should never buy an animal as a gift, in case the recipient didn’t want the pet. If she was going to buy the dog and offer him to Vari, she had to be prepared to keep the dog herself if Vari didn’t want it.
The dog whimpered. She reached through the bars of the cage and scratched the puppy’s chin. The tail wagging grew steadier.
Running wasn’t like Ironman training. She wouldn’t be training ten-plus hours every day, coming home only to do laundry, a few reps on the weight machines, and sleep. She would have time to care for a pet, even with her job.
Although bassets weren’t running dogs. They didn’t have the legs for it. Sometimes bassets had trouble walking fast.
Not that it mattered. If she kept the dog, it wouldn’t be as a running companion.
“I’ll take him,” she said.
“You will?” The guy sounded surprised. “You know, dogs aren’t something you buy on the spur of the moment. You’re making a ten-, maybe fifteen-year commitment here.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s time I make a commitment to something.”
The man frowned. He reached under the counter, pulled out the leash and collar, as well as a bag of Science Diet Puppy Food, and some baggies. It took her a moment to realize what the baggies were for.
“Full service place,” she said with a smile.
He didn’t smile back. She had a hunch he’d come after her if she didn’t give this dog a good home.
She wasn’t about to tell the man she planned to give the dog away.
He reached inside the cage and slid the puppy out. The little dog struggled against him, the tail between his legs.
“He doesn’t like to be touched,” the man said. “He was pretty badly abused. Can you handle that?”
If she had to, she could. She was pretty sure that Vari could handle it even better than she could.
“Does he have health problems because of it?”
“None that we know of.” The man set the puppy on the counter. The little dog’s tail started wagging the minute the man let go of him. Then the puppy bent his long snout and started sniffing, investigating every square inch of the tile as the man slid the collar around the dog’s neck.
“Now,” the man said to her, as if she were a child, “you get his name and address on this collar first thing. Too many dogs get lost and their owners never find them again. If you have any problems, you call me or the Humane Society. If for any reason you decide you don’t want him, bring him back here. Don’t just abandon him.”
Ariel gasped. “I would never do that.”
The man grimaced. “You’d be surprised at how many people do. Dogs and puppies are two different creatures, and once folks realize that dogs aren’t as cute, well…”
He put everything in a bag. Ariel scratched the pup’s ears. The dog’s tail wagged even harder.
“At least he likes you,” the man muttered.
“What?” she asked.
“Oh, you’d be surprised how many people came in here because they saw him in the window. He growled at most of them.”
“Really?”
The man nodded. “But he likes you. That’s a start.”
Ariel took out her checkbook. “Check to the Humane Society?”
“Yep.” The man shoved the bag toward her. “I’ll call them first thing. Time to get another of the dogs.”
“I’m amazed you don’t offer to do this more often,” she said. “Think how many animals you could save.”
The man raised his head and looked directly at her. “I used to, before I knew that I was supporting places like the one that damaged this little guy. Then I only took strays and animals that people brought in. I’d inoculate them, make sure everything was fine, and sell them for the vaccination fees.”
“But?” Ariel asked.
“I couldn’t part with them.” He ran a hand on the puppy’s back. The dog shivered but didn’t pull away. “I never knew if they were going to good homes. I always wanted to tell people that if they treated the animal badly, I’d hunt them down and shoot them.”
“Always good for business,” Ariel said.
He looked at her. “I’m serious.”
“I know,” she said, not at all offended. “And I promise. I’ll make sure he has a great life.”
The man studied her for a moment, then nodded. “I believe you.”
“Good.” Ariel smiled. She attached the leash to the puppy’s collar and picked him up. He didn’t struggle against her like he had struggled against the man.
The puppy let her set him on the ground, then he began sniffing the floor like he had sniffed the countertop, inch by inch.
Ariel picked up the bag and stuck it under her arm. Then she clucked at the puppy who, to her surprise, stopped sniffing and heeled as if he had been doing it all his life.
“Well, I’ll be,” the man said as she led the dog to the door. “Remember, come back if there are problems.”
“I will,” she said and stepped outside.
The brightness made her blink after the gentle light in the pet store. The puppy looked up at her as if her hesitation made him nervous.
Then a car drove past and the puppy shied. He hid behind her leg and whimpered again. She wouldn’t be able to walk him across the parking lot. He was too little and probably would be too startled by the strangeness of it all.
So she bent down and picked him up with one arm, cradling him against her as she walked to her car. He leaned his head on her wrist, his little body trembling. But the expected struggle never came.
She used her keyless entry to unlock the car, then set the bag in the back seat. She didn’t have a dog carrier. She hoped the puppy would do all right beside her.
He went inside the car as if he knew it was the right thing to do. Then he sat in the passenger seat, unable to see over the dash. He had a calmness about him that was simply unnatural in any creature that young.
She climbed in beside him, closed the door, made sure the windows were up, and stuck the key in the ignition. The roar of an engine coming to life would scare him—she was certain of that. But she started the car, and the puppy’s tail thudded against the seat. He looked at her as if he were ready for the adventure of his life.
She wasn’t. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she began to regret her decision—not buying the puppy, but her decision to give the dog to Vari.
He would never know if she didn’t show him the dog. But she had the oddest feeling that the puppy had been waiting for him and she was merely the delivery service.
She would stop at Quixotic and see if Vari agreed.
SIXTEEN
DARIUS SAT ON his stool in the kitchen, watching Blackstone create his latest dish. He was struggling to recreate some kind of vegetable pie he’d had during the Depression, and had made one of his
assistants go to the store for lard not half an hour earlier.
Blackstone was leaning over the steel table, muttering, trying to remember which items were rationed and which ones weren’t, which ones were cut so that the ingredients went farther, and which ones remained the same.
Darius supposed he could help—he had vivid memories of the Depression—but he didn’t feel like helping. The kitchen was hot because the pastry chef had just finished her morning baking (she had stayed longer because Blackstone expected a rush on pies, for reasons Darius couldn’t fathom) and smelled of fresh bread.
Usually being in Quixotic calmed him, but not this morning. This morning, he wished he had taken up Ariel’s offer and gone with her to brunch, even though she had only done it to make him feel better.
He was beginning to think he’d take her company no matter how grudgingly she offered it, and that attitude was dangerous. The jealousy he’d felt at the race this morning was improper. He had to do his job as impartially as possible—and impartiality meant a lack of involvement.
“You listening?” Blackstone asked.
“Obviously not,” Darius said. “Or I would have been rudely ignoring you.”
“As if that’s far-fetched,” Blackstone said. “I was wondering if they could have used near-beer. Was it still being made in ‘33?”
“Are you sure you ate this in ‘33?” Darius asked. “Because Prohibition was still going on in ‘31 and so there would have been near-beer then.”
Blackstone frowned as if he were trying to remember. As he did, the back door opened. Ariel leaned in.
She looked hesitant. Maybe she was in some kind of trouble. Darius slipped off his stool and instantly lost sight of her.
He suppressed a curse.
She stepped inside, and her face brightened when she saw him. Then that look vanished and the uncertainty returned.
“Hi,” she said, completely ignoring Blackstone.
“Hi,” Darius said, stepping out from behind the table’s shadow. “Is everything all right?”
She bit her lower lip. “I may have made a mistake.”
That got Blackstone’s attention. “What happened?”
She smiled at him, the look so radiant that Darius felt another curse rise inside him. He held it back. “Something I need Mr. Vari’s help with, actually.”
Blackstone bent toward Darius, raised his eyebrows, and grinned. Darius ignored him. “What do you need me for?”
“It’s in my car,” she said, and walked toward the door. “Hurry.”
He hurried as best he could on his stubby legs, his stomach twisting. What kind of trouble had she gotten into and why had she come to him for help? Was she beginning to see him as the kind, neighborly man that everyone befriended and no one noticed was really lonely?
She was out the door long before he reached it. As he stepped into the bright February sunlight, he blinked. He had been inside longer than he thought.
Her car was parked near the Dumpster. Something was standing on the driver’s side looking out.
Not something.
Someone.
His breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he had dual images—a young boy, barely old enough to stand, and a puppy, its paws on the armrest, its head looking out the window.
She reached the side of the car and opened the door. The dual image vanished. She bent down and picked up the puppy, cradling it against her.
Darius could feel the dog’s magic crackling from his spot near the restaurant.
The puppy licked Ariel’s face and squirmed, clearly wanting to get down. Ariel held it tightly and watched Darius.
He wanted to squirm too, but he held himself motionless. Did she know what she had? He said, “I don’t understand. What’s the problem?”
The puppy was wriggling even harder now. Ariel wrapped a leash around her wrist, an obvious precaution in case the puppy got away.
“When I saw him, I thought of you,” she said softly.
He stared at her. No one had ever done this for him. She didn’t even know that he needed a familiar, and yet she had brought him one.
How had she known? She had no magic; that was obvious. She was as mortal as Emma’s husband, Michael.
Yet she had recognized a dog with a bit of magic.
“I know you’re not supposed to give pets as gifts,” she said into his silence, “but if you don’t want him, I’ll keep him. Only it feels like he belongs to you. He seems like the perfect dog for you.”
The puppy swiveled his head at that moment, as if he had understood her words. He was a basset hound, a particularly mournful-looking version, with ears so long that they hung past his feet.
“I can’t take him from you,” Darius said, trying not to sound ungrateful and trying to hide how unnerved he was. “I mean, you’re the one who found him.”
“And bought him on impulse.” She shrugged. “The guy at the store warned me not to do that. But you said you were looking for a pet.”
“You heard that?” This time, he couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.
“Well, you were having a rather loud conversation about it the other day with Mr. Blackstone.” She shrugged. “I thought maybe this puppy would work for you. But if he doesn’t, I’ll keep him.”
Darius took a step closer. The puppy was wriggling so hard, Darius was amazed Ariel didn’t drop him. Darius stopped in front of the dog. Ariel bent so that the dog could see him better.
The puppy licked Darius’s face. The pup’s breath was amazingly sweet—probably because it was still young.
The dog scrambled onto his shoulder. Ariel braced the dog until Darius took its solid belly between his own small hands. The dog weighed more than he thought it would. It was all muscle and sinewy—and verged on being too thin.
“Didn’t they take care of this creature?” he asked, sounding more belligerent than he intended.
“He was rescued from a puppy mill. I guess he was abused. He may be a bit high-strung because of that.” She hovered close, still holding the leash “You don’t have to take him just because I gave him to you. I know it was inappropriate—”
“Stop apologizing.” Darius nuzzled the dog. It did feel right. This was the familiar he’d been waiting for. Small, stubby, slightly broken but with an irrepressible spirit. “I like him. I like him a lot.”
“They say he’s housebroken, but they’re not sure it’s a hundred percent. And I have some dog food in the car—”
“All right.” Darius extended a hand for the leash. She handed it to him. He set the puppy down. It immediately leaped up to try to kiss him again, but it jumped no better than Andrew Vari did.
Ariel laughed fondly. “He’s a good dog.”
“I can see that.” Darius crouched and patted the puppy. He’d always thought dogs were too simple for familiars. Loyal, trusting, somewhat dumb. But this dog had learned not to be trusting, and he certainly wasn’t dumb.
Darius had a hunch the puppy would be loyal, too. Ariel was right; he felt a bond to the pup almost immediately.
“What’s his name?” Darius asked.
“I haven’t given him one,” Ariel said. “Names are important. I figured you’d want to name him yourself.”
He glanced at her again. How had she known that magic tenet? “What makes you say that?”
She grinned. “People always name their dogs, silly.”
“No, I mean about names being important.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. If I named him Sparky and you thought that was a dumb name, you’d think about that every time you called him. His name wouldn’t be Sparky. It would be Sparky WhataDumbNameforaDog.”
She said that last all as one word. He laughed.
“You weren’t thinking of naming him Sparky, were you?” he said with a little more alarm than he intended. It was a dumb name for this dog. “I mean, he’s a basset hound. Somehow Sparky doesn’t seem lugubrious enough.”
“Oh, you’re not going give him som
e slow wimpy name, are you?”
“Slow, wimpy?”
“You know, like Homer.”
“Homer. For a dog.” Darius grinned. He doubted the legendary Greek poet had any idea that dogs were now named after him.
Ariel smiled. “You know.”
“So what do you think he should be called?”
She looked at the dog. Darius followed her gaze. The puppy was sniffing the asphalt, making snuffling noises so loud that it sounded like he was going to inhale the entire parking lot.
“Nosy?” she said.
“Where’s the dignity in that?”
“Who said a dog needed dignity?”
“I do.” Darius patted the puppy’s neck. Ariel did seem pretty involved with all this. He didn’t want to give up the dog—she was right, the pup was perfect for him—but he didn’t want to upset her either. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep him?”
The pup looked up at him. If a dog could look startled, this one did.
“You don’t like him, do you?” Ariel’s smile faded. “Well, that’s okay. I mean, he and I—”
“I like him,” Darius said. “I just don’t want to take him away from you.”
“I’d like to visit,” she said. “Can I have that? I won’t be his mommy. I’ll be like—his aunt. Or his godmother.”
“Do dogs have godmothers?”
She laughed. It was a sound Darius didn’t hear often enough. “He does. So what are you going to name him?”
“Well,” he said. “I think Lugubrious is too long.”
Ariel pushed at him with her hand. “You wouldn’t call him that.”
“As I said, it’s too long. Maybe I’ll call him Mournful.”
“That’s terrible,” she said.
He smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“Come on,” she said. “You can do better.”
The pup had wrapped himself around Darius’s leg. Darius moved the leash to untangle it. The pup watched him as if he were studying what Darius was doing.
“Munin,” Darius said.
The pup barked, then wagged his tail. The dog clearly approved.
“What?” Ariel said.
“Munin,” Darius said again. “It’s from Norse mythology.”
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