by Kim M Watt
Dandy whuff-ed in her ear and she shoved him away with one hand, then grabbed the steering wheel and brought them to a sliding stop that sent the dog pitching between the seats in a sea of grey dreadlocks.
“Get it off!” the cat wailed. “Gods, the stink!”
“Stop making such a fuss. He doesn’t smell.”
“Your noses suck.”
DI Adams managed to get the handbrake on under the overexcited Dandy, then joined Collins as he climbed out of the car. They left the doors open, and the visible cat and invisible dog followed them.
“What d’you reckon?” Collins asked. There was a car stopped in the lane just beyond the gate, nose not far from the tail of a van that was slewed across the lane and leaning at a rather sad angle into the mud.
She squinted at the car. “Might be Ervin’s.”
“Ervin now, is it?”
She gave him an unimpressed look. “Don’t know the van.”
Colin scratched his head. “I might.”
“Really? Whose is it?”
“My mum’s.”
“Oh, good,” DI Adams said, thinking of her first encounter with Rainbow and her entourage. “Shall we prepare for assault with table condiments?”
“Possibly.”
DI Adams leaned into the car and got out the swords. “Want one?”
He frowned at her. “I feel ridiculous carrying that thing around.”
“You look pretty ridiculous, too,” Thompson said. “It’s not like the sword makes that any worse, though.”
Dandy took a couple of steps forward and gave a sudden, low growl. “What is it?” DI Adams asked.
“What’s what?” Collins asked.
“Dandy’s growling.”
“That can’t be good.” He held out his hand. “Give me a sword.”
DI Adams passed him one of the fencing blades hilt-first, and as he grabbed it there was an eruption of sound from the direction of the farmhouse, great bellowing barks that sounded like the Hound of the Baskervilles had built itself an army.
Dandy snarled, and every hair on DI Adams’ skin tried to abandon ship at the sound. It shook something old and primal and frightened in her, and she swallowed hard.
“Was that Dandy?” Collins whispered.
“Yeah.” She had to lick her lips before answering. “You heard him?”
“Yeah, and now I’m glad I can’t see him.”
“Let’s go.” She started forward at a jog, obscurely sure that if she didn’t move fast enough she’d grind to a halt. Sure, they had a devil dandy dog, but if Thompson was right, there was what sounded like a whole battalion of werewolves up there.
“I might just hang with the car,” Thompson called after them, and no one answered.
DI Adams squeezed past the back of the van, scraping her side on the wall, and spotted something lying on the lane a little further ahead. She ran toward it, then pulled up short as she got close enough to see a Labrador sprawled across the rutted lane. “Oh no,” she said as Collins joined her. “It’s not dead, is it?”
“I don’t know.” He edged forward and crouched down next to the dog. It didn’t move. “Ah, poor thing.” He put a hand on its side, and the Lab gave a shuddering snore, thumped its tail a couple of times, rolled over and went back to sleep. He looked at DI Adams. “Narcoleptic, maybe.”
“That one stinks too,” Thompson said from the safety of the wall.
“I thought you were staying behind,” DI Adams said.
“Yeah, well. I’ve got you lot this far, I can’t abandon you now. You’ll need all the help you can get.”
“I’m so reassured,” Collins said, and the two inspectors started up the lane again.
“Don’t run with swords,” the cat shouted, pacing them along the wall. “See? Hopeless!”
DI Adams felt ridiculous. She was running up a country lane in the dusk of a Yorkshire summer with an invisible dog, an insulting cat, and a sword grasped in one hand, preparing to confront werewolves and hoping for dragons. She was not at all sure what had happened to her life, but she could pinpoint exactly when it had happened, as well as who was responsible, as it all came back to her first encounter with the Toot Hansell Women’s Institute. She felt rather like stopping right where she was and shouting at the universe, “No one told me about this!”
But she didn’t. She kept running for the house and the floodlit yard, toward the baying of the werewolves. She had thought they’d sound more wolf-y, but maybe that was a Hollywood thing, like the silver bullets. They just sounded like big, bad-tempered dogs, and as they rounded a last turn in the lane and saw the gate lying half-open into the yard before them, she rather thought the enormous creature that dropped its front paws down from a wall and started thundering toward them looked like a big, bad-tempered dog.
“Over the wall!” Collins bellowed, and she stopped worrying about the details and bolted after him. They scrambled over the wall to the right of the lane, knocking the loose stones on top flying, crashing down into a sea of fragrant mud. “That’s a werewolf?”
“Eh,” Thompson said. He was still on top of the wall, staying just out of reach of the dog as it lunged at him, spittle flying and barks shaking its chest. “I think this may be a Rottweiler, actually.” He bopped the dog’s nose as it got too close, and the dog snarled, lunging hard enough at the wall to send both the cat and the topmost stones tumbling into the field. Thompson jumped clear, landing lightly on the mucky ground, and shook a paw out distastefully. “This is a bit yuck.”
“It’s a Rottweiler,” DI Adams said.
“Yeah. Or some mix, you know. Big. Stupid. Hungry.”
“Well, that’s just great,” Collins said. “I can’t stab a bloody dog, can I?”
“Oh, but a half human, half wolf you were fine with?” the cat asked.
“I guess we need the RSPCA,” DI Adams said.
“And a stronger wall,” Thompson suggested, as more rocks tumbled into the field next to them.
“Bollocks.” Collins jumped up and waved his arms at the dog. “Bad dog! Bad dog! Um – sit!”
The dog bellowed more enormous barks at them, and kept up its attack on the wall.
“Try German,” the cat said. “They’re German, aren’t they?”
“Come on,” DI Adams said. “We’ll go through the fields.” She headed off at a run, Dandy pacing her easily. He seemed bigger.
“Nein?” Collins suggested to the dog, then ran after her.
The dog bounded along the other side of the wall, still baying, and as they reached the corner of the field it discovered a gate which it promptly started trying to scramble over. It looked as if it was going to be a little too successful, so DI Adams clambered over the wall into the next field. Collins followed her just as the dog crashed over the gate behind them, and he shouted, “Into the yard! We can make it to the house!”
DI Adams didn’t bother answering, just hauled herself over yet another stone wall into the yard, wondering why no one around here went in for nice, easy to climb wooden fences, snagging her trousers on the way down and hearing them tear. She stumbled as she landed, bounced to her feet, and sprinted for the house. Two dogs, different breeds and even bigger than the Rottweiler, came barrelling out from behind one of the sheds. They weren’t barking, just growling steadily as their enormous legs tore up the farmyard, and she turned to scramble back over the wall, shouting, “Go back!”
Collins was straddling the wall, the Rottweiler on one side and the dogs on the other, and he tried to haul DI Adams up, but drystone walls weren’t made for climbing. The top crumpled, sending them both spilling to the ground, and Dandy surged over the wall and grabbed the Rottweiler by the scruff of the neck as it lunged for the inspectors. He flung it like a terrier would a rat, hurling it into the other two dogs, then lowered his head and growled. The noise shook DI Adams’ bones, and Dandy towered above them, his teeth yellow and glistening in the low light.
The dogs had been knocked sprawling, and no
w they climbed to their feet, lips drawn back from their teeth as they answered Dandy’s growls with their own. More dogs were emerging from around the sheds, twelve, fifteen, more, and people were shouting on the other side of the yard.
“Adams?” Collins said.
“Yes?”
“I’m guessing Dandy’s doing his thing?”
“He’s sort of standing over us.”
“Okay. Should we run?”
“I think probably.” She got her feet under her and stood slowly, keeping her eyes on the dogs. They were spreading out, trying to surround them, but most of their attention was on Dandy, who looked the size of a horse in the fading light. Slobber was dripping from his jaws, and his eyes burned through the dreadlocks. He took a slow step forward, snarling, and the dogs backed up. DI Adams grabbed Collins’ arm. “On second thought, don’t run.”
“I really want to.”
Dandy advanced again, and DI Adams followed, pulling Collins with her. The dogs spread out further, their circle cutting back toward the wall.
“We’re going to be surrounded in a moment,” Collins said.
“We’re okay while we’re with him,” she said, hoping she was right. Dandy was still moving forward, and she reached out hesitantly, putting a hand on his flank. His head twitched toward her, then he went back to concentrating on the dogs. His skin was hotter than it had any right to be, making her think of dragons as much as devils. After all, she knew dragons existed.
They were halfway across the yard when the first of the dogs broke rank. It bolted up behind them, nipping at Dandy’s heels then retreating. Dandy spun so fast he knocked DI Adams into Collins, and they sprawled to the ground as the circle of dogs lunged at them. Dandy spun back again, but now more dogs had taken up the attack, darting in and retreating, snapping at his legs, distracting him and making him dance. One lunged for the inspectors, and DI Adams slapped it with the flat of her sword.
“Run now?” Collins suggested.
“Not unless you’re faster than they are.”
“Dammit.” They were back to back instinctively, turning and lashing out as the dogs closed in. Dandy had fallen silent and was fighting with a horrible efficiency, but the dogs had banded into a ruthless pack, some attacking his hindquarters while others kept his teeth busy. The growls and snarls bounced off the walls of the sheds and farmhouse, and DI Adams’ heart was tight in her chest. She didn’t have to know much about dandies to know they could be hurt. There was already blood on Dandy’s flanks as well as his jaw.
She swung the sword at a massive brindled dog and said, “We have to get out of this bloody yard somehow.”
“I know— Hey!” Collins shouted suddenly. “Hey, you! We’re police! Call your damn dogs off!”
DI Adams craned around to see a dozen men in heavy black trousers and fitted jackets walking across the yard. One of them said something to the others, and they laughed.
“Police!” Collins bellowed, and one of them gave a little finger wave. The others laughed again, but the laughter collapsed into yelps as a rain of rocks flew out of the nearest field, most pattering down harmlessly but a few making contact. The men looked at each other, words inaudible over the sound of the fighting dogs.
This time DI Adams was watching when the heads popped over the wall and the rocks were unleashed. One caught the tallest man on the cheek and he staggered, and a cheer went up from beyond the wall. “Oh, bloody hell,” she snapped, and caught a dog a solid blow with the side of the sword that sent it scampering away. “Bloody W.I.”
“Goddammit,” Collins said, and as he spoke the men ran for the wall, ducking the next shower of rocks easily. Light caught metal in the men’s hands.
“Gun!” DI Adams shouted, and bolted. She heard the enormous whuff of Dandy’s displeasure behind her, heard Collins shout her name, but she ignored them all and just ran. The dogs were barking behind her, and she heard the thunder of quick feet on gravel, too close and too fast, and all she could hope was that Dandy was following her, and she could reach the wall in time. Something snagged her heel, sending a flare of pain up her leg, and she stumbled, yelping as furry bodies surged around her.
“Adams!” Collins shouted, and Dandy gave a howl of fury, but they were both too far away to help. She caught her balance, bringing the sword up in time to fend off some enormous beast that seemed to be channelling Cujo, and Thompson sprinted across her path with his tail the size of a bottle brush.
“Stinking mongrels!” he shrieked as he ran. “Catch me if you can, you mutts!”
A volley of confused barking erupted around her, and she broke for the wall again, and now the only footfalls were hers and Collins’ as he overtook her. He hit the gate and scrambled over it just ahead of her, stopping at the top to offer her a hand, but she boosted herself up and over in one quick motion.
Mud-encrusted figures were fleeing across the field, and the men had spread out after them, moving much faster. One put a shot into the air and shouted, “You’re trespassing! Stand down!” There was a chorus of yelps and imaginative cursing, but no one stopped. A few of the figures turned and started pelting the men with more rocks, and others were diving through the gate into the next field.
DI Adams sprinted through the long grass, ignoring the pain in her leg, and reached the nearest man just as he raised his gun. She didn’t know if it was going to be another warning shot or not, and she didn’t particularly care. She brought the flat of the sword down hard on his wrist, and he released the gun with a yelp of pain. He spun toward her, and she whirled the blade, smacking him on the side of the head and sending him to the ground, momentarily grateful that she’d remembered to use the flat and wasn’t going to have to write up a report explaining how she’d come to decapitate a suspect.
“Adams, duck!” Collins bellowed behind her, and she dropped to the ground as a gunshot went off, alarmingly close, and all the light went out of the world.
The man was moving underneath her, so she punched him hard enough that he gasped and lay still, then she sat up. Dandy hulked above her, blocking out the last of the sun, holding one of the black-clad men’s arms in his jaws. It was still attached, fortunately, and he’d dropped the gun. She looked around to see dragons pouring over the wall at the top of the field, wings flung wide as they protected the W.I., who seemed to be taking advantage of the cover to throw more rocks at the men rather than retreat. The men were looking rather less hardened than they had a moment ago and were, for the most part, legging it enthusiastically back across the field. There was a large dragon with very baggy skin sitting on top of one of the stragglers, examining a gun with great curiosity, and another man was on his knees with his hands clasped behind his head, eyes shut as he prayed very loudly and enthusiastically. A sleek purple dragon was holding a man face down in the grass rather casually as he thrashed about in panic, and she shouted at a dragon with multicoloured spines, “No flames!”
DI Adams shook her head slightly, and found her handcuffs as Collins jogged up, face pale.
“Are you alright?” she asked him, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking directly at Dandy.
“Is that …?” he managed.
DI Adams looked at the dandy, who looked back at her with those red eyes. He was unnaturally still, and the man he had hold of was whimpering steadily. “You can see him?”
“I think everyone can see him. How the hell does he fit in the car?”
“He’s not normally this big.” She nodded at the man she was kneeling on. “Cuff him, will you?” Collins grabbed the man’s arms as she stood up and put a hand on Dandy’s shoulder. She almost had to go on her tiptoes to do it. “Put him down. Drop him, there’s a good boy.”
Dandy looked at her for a moment, then let the man go. He crumpled to his knees, clutching his arm with his good hand. It was bleeding, but not badly. “What is that thing?” he shouted at the inspectors. “What is it?”
DI Adams patted Dandy. “He’s a very good boy.”
Dandy wriggled with pleasure and licked her hand, and Collins said, “Oh. He’s gone again.”
The man on his knees said, “Drugs, right? You gave us drugs. Damn pigs.”
Dragons and women were still running around the field, chasing down the rest of the men, who had made it as far as the gate before Thompson came flying over it, shouting, “Incoming!” The dogs hit the gate just behind him, their combined weight tearing it from its hinges and spilling the pack into the field. The men swerved and scattered, running silently with their heads down and their legs pumping, and the dragons swept onto the field with their bellies alight and their wings thundering.
“Lord Walter!” Mortimer was coming in low over the wall, angling toward the dogs. “Lord Walter, no eating the humans, please!”
“In my day,” the old dragon with the saggy skin began, poking the man he was sitting on, then was cut off by the purple dragon.
“Rockford, that means you too!” she bellowed.
“Aw,” a rather chunky dragon said, wheeling overhead. “Really?”
“Round up the dogs!” Amelia shouted, galloping past the inspectors in pursuit of a couple of German Shepherds.
“Ew. I bet they taste gross,” the chunky dragon said.
“Rockford!” Mortimer snapped. “No one said you could eat them!”
“Oops,” Walter said to no one in particular, and put Primrose down. She promptly bit his tail, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Colin! DI Adams!” A muddy figure ran across the grass to them, clutching a cricket bat like they meant business. From the bushy hair, it could only be Miriam. “Are you okay?”
“Auntie Miriam! What on earth are you all doing here?”
“Oh.” She hesitated. “Well, initially it was just a peaceful protest, then we figured out Alice had been kidnapped, so now I suppose it’s a rescue mission?”