Tiger's Eye (4 page)

“Nineteen,” he said.

I wanted to tell him that a bottle of Boone’s Farm and a make-out session behind the church worked on any girl who was mad at Dad, but I decided that it was none of my business.

“Good luck with that, Jay-Z, but listen. I can’t find Thor. Have you seen him?”

“Not for about an hour.”

I chewed my lower lip, worrying myself into a frenzy. This wasn’t like Thor. Most days, the dog followed me around like I had rib eyes taped to my ass.

Where had he gotten off to?

“You want me to help you look for him?” Derek asked, not really meaning it.

“I appreciate the offer, but that’s okay. Chance and Leo are looking for him too. Have fun.”

I hurried away from the tent, growing a little more nauseous, not from the junk food, but from the fear of losing Thor. Birdie referred to him as my familiar, my protector, but he was also my family. What would I do if I lost Thor?

I started rushing around the park like a maniac, asking people if they had seen him. I lifted tent skirts, crawled
under tables, leaned over gaming counters, and checked in the bushes.

All I found were a couple of teenagers making out, a pantless carny, and a passed-out clown clutching a forty-ounce Miller High Life.

When you’re desperate, scared, and a little drunk, you do things you wouldn’t normally do. Especially in the summer. Now, I should let you know that I had not danced naked under a Mead Moon since I was two. Even then, it was the night of the solstice and people expect it on that day. Well, my people anyway. I was also not a fan of practicing the craft outdoors in a wide-open field where any number of wanderers could not only interrupt the spell but contaminate it.

But like I said, I was desperate. And possibly a bit tipsy.

Chance still had my bag, which meant I had limited tools. There were no crystals, charms, or potions on me; however, I did have a silver key chain with the Black Opal’s logo on it, a bottle of water, and that ever-present source for the most powerful spell casting there was—the moon.

Thor’s collar was fastened with a tiger’s eye, fully charged to accept magic. I knew he would receive the enchantment. All I had to do was perform it.

I rushed over to the towering oak and plucked a small bough to offer Diana, Greek goddess of the moon, huntress, and canine protector. I opened the bottle of water (the moon’s favorite element), scanned the tree bed for the brightest beam, and balanced it there between two rocks. Next, I laid the key chain—widest chunk of silver aimed at the thickest slice of light—across the rocks, set the oak bough on top, and chanted three times:

“Diana, huntress of the night,

bring this canine back to sight.

Guided by the moonbeam’s light,

friends be found without a fight.”

I waited, listening to the sounds of the wind and the gentle sway of the leaves. I was hoping it would be instantaneous, but Thor didn’t come bounding out of the woods.

Damn! I forgot to picture him in my mind as I cast the spell.

I centered myself again. Checked the position of the key chain, the water bottle, and the light of the moon.

Then, the largest oak leaf started smoldering. It cracked and hissed on top of the key chain. Finally, after a few more seconds of sputtering, it curled into itself, rose up in a puff of indigo smoke, and dissipated.

A sign. It worked!

I turned, a slow full circle, and called Thor’s name.

Just off to my right, a patch of evergreens rustled.

“Thor?” I crept over to the shrubs and heard a squeaking sound. Out popped a Chihuahua smaller than Thor’s nose. I swear the thing could have fit in my palm.

“Oh my goodness, you are the cutest!” I reached over to pick him up and the snarky little gnat nearly confiscated my index finger.

“Hey, that’s not nice. Bad dog.” I shook my finger at him to make a point.

Apparently the fact that I still had possession of the digit pissed him off. He lunged at my ankles with the ferocity of a bridezilla. I hopscotched around his teeth, trying not to squash him like a bug, but really wanting to.

Suddenly he stopped, stuck his nose in the air, and ran off to see what smelled so good.

I blew out a sigh and inventoried my fingers and toes. Each one was accounted for.

That was weird.

A soft whimper sounded from the dugout then. When I jogged close to it, I found a blue-eyed Siberian husky puppy with a Cracker Jack box stuck on his nose lying on the bench. He looked in my direction, pawed at his captor, his head lowered, inching forward. His eyes caught mine.

“Okay. But if you bite me, I bite back.” I was taking no chances after the rat dog incident.

The candy box slipped off after the third tug, and old blue eyes licked my cheek. He toppled from the brick dugout and chased after the music.

Well, that was interesting.

Then I heard screeches mixed with cries of joy coming from the park.

My stomach did a little flip-flop. Something was wrong.

Slowly I emerged from the dugout.

Dozens of dogs were tramping out of the woods, jumping over one another. Terriers, bulldogs, Labradors, mutts, golden retrievers, Dobermans, and off in the distance, one Irish wolfhound that stared at me for an instant before he darted in the opposite direction.

I was pretty pleased that the spell had worked. Well, technically. With one minor flaw.

From the looks of it, I had called every lost dog in a thirty-mile radius. And possibly a thirty-year lifespan.

But there was only one I cared about.

Somehow, he seemed bigger, even though he was in the shadow of the trees. Perhaps it was the look on his face that made him appear authoritative. I swear he would have rolled his eyes at me if he could.

Or he may have seemed taller because of the new friend crouched next to him.

Chapter 4

“If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you; that is the principal difference between a dog and a man.”

—Mark Twain

She was a long-haired beauty with angular features so sculpted she could have been molded out of clay. Her ears pointed to the sky and her face was traced with a golden tuft of hair that arranged itself into a heart down her narrow nose. The white fur on her chest puffed out around her as if by brush strokes, and I noticed as she lowered her head that she was trembling ever so slightly.

I gave a wide berth to the dogs emerging from the forest and started toward the edge of the tree line where Thor sat with the collie.

Voices cried out all around me. Exclamations of joy, disbelief, surprise, even anger as one kid screamed, “You told me Thumper was on a farm” to an apparently mortified set of parents.

I was still several yards away, but from the collie’s demeanor it was obvious something was wrong. Was she hurt? Or just scared?

A flustered chief of police halted my opportunity to find out at that moment.

“Stacy, did you find Thor?”

I quickly signaled to Thor to lie down and his head ducked behind the weeds. Something about the way he was hovering around the collie made me think that Thor had a good reason for protecting her, and I didn’t want her mixed up in the roundup of all the other dogs.

“Hey, Leo. I was just looking for him.” I whistled. “Here, Thor, here, boy.”

That goddamn Chihuahua ran over, baring his teeth at me. He shredded my shoelace before Leo commanded him to sit. He did, still training an eye on me.

It was as if he held a personal grudge.

He lifted a paw toward Leo, and the man bent down to check the dog’s tag. He glanced up at me. “It says his name is Thor.”

“Oh, that is just wrong.”

The Chihuahua snapped in my direction—spit, actually—then licked Leo’s hand lovingly.

Leo eyed me with suspicion. “I am not going to ask, because I don’t want to know.”

“What?”

He cocked his head toward the little shit, then back at me.

It took me a full twenty seconds to board his train of thought. When I did, I thought I would burst a lung laughing so hard.

“Do you mean to tell me that you think…” I pointed to the Chihuahua who was snuggling up to Leo, “that I would turn my dog into Scrappy-Doo?” I cackled. “Leo, even if I had that kind of power—which I do not—I wouldn’t make him a misogynist.”

Scrappy barked and lunged.

I didn’t cower this time. “Well, you are! You have issues, pal.” I stepped forward, but Leo put his hand between us.

“Okay, that’s enough there, Dog Whisperer.”

“He started it!” I whined.

Yes, I realize that arguing with an animal is not only stupid, but batshit crazy. My only defense was that this mutt hated me for no apparent reason when he should have been thanking me. I guess I was hurt. By a dog I just met.

I never said
I
didn’t have issues.

Luckily, Gus interrupted before Leo pressed for further explanation.

“Hey, Stacy; hey, Chief. We need you over here. Animal control is on the way, but it looks like some of these dogs belong to folks here. If you give the okay, we can probably just release them to their owners.”

Leo looked to be a little bit in shock as he watched the crowd weave around the dogs, some petting old friends, some playing fetch, some looking as astounded as the chief.

“Okay, well, duty calls.” Leo smiled at me. “I’m sure you’ll find Thor.”

Scrappy growled, pointedly glared at me, and hopped around Leo like a circus dog.

“Seriously, what the hell did I do to you?” I asked the Chihuahua.

He backed up and peed on my ankle.

All I could do was look down, mouth agape.

Leo frowned and handed me a handkerchief. “Come on, little guy.” They both sauntered off toward the band.

“This is not over!” I yelled.

I swear I wasn’t going to take it personally until he lifted his leg.

I started back toward (the real) Thor, working on a second wind, smelling like a urinal. I quickly wiped my leg dry and tossed the cloth in a nearby garbage can. My phone was in my back pocket so I texted Chance and told him where to find me.

My pooch occupied the same spot as before except he was lying down, the collie resting her head on his backside. Thor was alert, waiting patiently for me to navigate the rocks, brambles, and milkweed covering the bank of the small creek that washed into the lake.

His new friend looked world-weary, not even bothering to lift her head even as twigs snapped and popped beneath my feet.

I wondered what had happened to her. Why hadn’t she, along with all the other dogs, run from the woods in search of her family?

Finally I reached them. Thor glanced backward once and I took that as a sign to check on the beautiful creature resting beside him.

Her eyes were open, but listless, her breath shallow. She seemed not to care that I was in her space, but I passed my hand beneath her snout anyway. Her nose twitched and her eyes swung my way, then off in the distance.

My experience with dogs was limited to Thor, who pretty much took care of himself. However, I could tell
that she was sick or injured, and I didn’t want to make it worse by examining her with amateur hands.

Beyond the creek’s edge, Chance called my name.

I popped up, waved a hand, and said, “Here.”

He smiled, looking confused, the backpack loose in his hand. “Midnight dip?”

If only we could. “Not quite. Come down here.”

Chance was much steadier on his feet than I was and he made his way over to the three of us in no time.

His forehead crinkled into concern. “Who’s this?” He knelt beside me.

“I don’t know. She doesn’t have a collar. Do you recognize her?”

Chance sat on his heels, studying the fluffy dog. “I don’t know anyone who has a collie. How do you know it’s a female?”

Hmm. There was no answer to that. It was impossible to tell from her position on the ground.

“I just…know.” I passed my hand beneath her nose again and gently stroked her cheek. Her eyes slid closed.

“Is she hurt?”

“I think so. I was afraid to touch her.”

Chance chewed his bottom lip. “Well, the vet is closed at this hour and the closest emergency hospital is in Madison.”

Madison, Wisconsin, was an hour and a half away. There was no way to tell what, if anything, was even wrong with the dog. I saw no blood, and she wasn’t whimpering or even cringing. She just looked…exhausted.

“Oh, wait a minute.” Chance snapped his fingers. “Dr. Zimmerman is out of town until Monday. His mother is having foot surgery this weekend so he asked me to stop by and take a look at securing his porch.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s someone taking his patients.”

Chance smirked. “Yes, Doug Kessler. The kid usually works on my crew in the summer, but he’s interning for Zimmerman.”

“Can you call him?” An intern had to be better than nothing.

“Well, I could, but I just saw him down two beer bongs before all hell broke loose and now he’s helping Leo sort out the canine invasion.” Chance raised his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“I was just looking for Thor.” I circled around to my familiar. “Well, big guy, what do you think? Looks like there’s only one option.”