“Yeah, about that,” Val snapped. “If you’re my guide, where in Merlin’s name were you when I got my ass magically bound to a faerie who hates my guts? That seems like the kind of thing you should have been there to guide me away from.”
Cleo’s purr became a chuckle. “That was very amusing.”
“I’m getting a spray bottle,” Val threatened. “I’m a dog person.”
Cleo yawned, exposing every tooth. “Empty threats.”
“Not as empty as your weird-ass promises!” Val raged.
“Eyes on the road,” Cleo murmured.
Val huffed between her teeth and turned her attention to the quiet suburban street she was currently traversing. The brownstones’ smooth curves were close to the asphalt here. Wrought-iron railings bordered tiny strips of grass that struggled from the lack of sun.
“Can I ask you a question?” Val demanded.
Cleo removed a paw from under her chest and licked it. “Sure.”
“Sir Bedivere said that much Iron Dwarven magic was lost during the Second Pendragon War.” Val bit her lip. “Is that true?”
Cleo was silent.
“Well?” Val asked.
“Well, what?” Cleo started licking the other paw.
“Is it true or not?” Val snapped.
“Oh, you asked if you could ask a question, and you asked it.” Cleo continued licking. “I never said I would answer.”
“Cleo!” Val yelled.
Genevieve’s horn blared, but Val’s attention snapped back to the road a split second too late. The Mustang’s horn wailed in her ears as a shadow loomed in her headlights. Val saw the lights reflecting scarlet from wide, frightened eyes.
She stomped on the brake with everything she had, and Genevieve’s tires squealed. The Mustang screeched to a halt, but her nose met something with a sickening thud, and a yelp resounded through the night.
“Shit. Shit!” Val unbuckled her seat belt and shoved the door open. “Look what you made me do!”
Cleo dug both sets of claws into the beautiful leather covering Genevieve’s seat. She was still purring.
“I hate cats!” Val yelled as she stormed out of the Mustang and slammed the door behind her.
A soft whimper turned her anger to sorrow as she hurried to the shadow lying in Genevieve’s headlights. Her dwarven eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom, and she made out the hairy figure of a large dog. He lay on his side in front of Genevieve, breathing quickly, his pink tongue spilling onto the asphalt between startlingly white teeth.
“Oh, crap. Oh, man. I’m so sorry.” Val edged toward the dog. Her gut flipped at the sight of blood on his scruffy coat, which was a dark chestnut. “Aw, man. I’m so sorry, boy.”
The dog whimpered again. Val didn’t know what to do. If she touched him, would he bite her?
She couldn’t leave him here. His left front leg jutted awkwardly, the paw dangling, useless.
“It’s okay, boy. I’ll help you,” Val murmured. She sank to a crouch and slowly extended an arm to the back of the dog’s neck. Her fingers brushed filthy, matted fur, and the dog tensed, but he didn’t growl. She stroked him gently, feeling for a collar. His neck was bare.
“Good boy,” Val whispered. “Good boy.”
Her amulet thrummed.
“Screw you, amulet,” Val muttered. That stupid Sphynx always made the thing go haywire.
She continued stroking the dog’s fur and edged nearer, her fingers working through his thick coat. His panting slowed.
“Good boy!” Val told him.
The dog wagged his tail, which thudded quietly on the asphalt.
“Aw, you’re such a good boy.” Val’s heart melted. “I’m so sorry for hurting you. I’m going to get you help, okay? Don’t bite me.”
She shrugged her denim jacket off and wrapped it around the dog’s neck and shoulders, hoping it would protect her from a bite, then slid her arms under him. He whimpered, but his tail went on wagging. Despite his large frame, he was strangely light. Ribs dug into Val’s arms as she lifted him.
“Poor dude,” Val murmured, edging to the car door. “When last did you have a square meal?”
The dog’s tail rhythmically brushed her hip. Genevieve opened the door, and Val awkwardly slid the dog into the backseat, still wrapped in her jacket. He tensed, one front paw flailing, and Val stroked his ears until he settled down. She tried not to think about the fact that his back paws hadn’t moved.
“It’s gonna be okay, boy,” she told him, hoping that was true.
The dog lay back, a heap of motionless fur, and sighed.
“It’s gonna be fine,” Val assured him.
She shut the door and hustled around to the driver’s side. There was no sign of Cleo when she got in.
