Chapter Three
Something about the figure I saw at the back door of Lola’s house screamed badness to me, but I couldn’t pick out exactly why. Us four-leggers have better senses than two-leggers, but we don’t stop and get all thinky about everything—we just see something that needs to be peed on, pee on it, and move on with our lives. It was the same with this person at the back of Lola’s house. He didn’t look right and I needed to keep an eye on him.
I dropped into stealth mode and slipped over the grass next to the fence, stopping when the man glanced around. Some part of him sensed me the same way I knew he was up to no good.
I crept to the point where my fence was closest to Lola’s house and watched him between the boards. He cupped his hands around his face and leaned against the glass door, then tried to slide the door open. He heard my growl the same time I felt it in my chest, so I cut it off and ducked when he turned my way. The fur over my spine was starting to rise; my skin felt like it was shrinking in the sun.
The man stepped back from the sliding door and glanced upward, toward the second story, then made his way around the side of the house. His movement sent his smell wafting my way and I had to choke back another growl. He smelled bad, like fake trees and stagnant water.
The faint jingle of Hudson’s keys split my attention and a quick glance toward my house told me he’d be coming for me any second. I cleared the fence without a sound. No matter what adventure Hudson had planned for us today, I had to make sure Lola was safe from the bad-smelling man.
I slunk around the side of the house, ignoring the sound of my name being called from the other yard. The smell got stronger and my lip curled as I pulled it in. The fence narrowed in to the side of the house until it turned sharply. But no bad man. I lifted my head and scented the air. His odour was still here, but he wasn’t.
I backed away as far as I could, still ignoring the increasingly desperate calls from Hudson. There. A window was open. He was in the house. With my girl!
I let the growl come this time and used my anger to propel me to the top of the recycling bin—no doubt the same way he’d reached the window. I scrambled over the sill and landed in the kitchen sink. My nails clattered on the polished surface, and I froze for a second, listening to see if I’d raised any attention.
The house was quiet. I inhaled as I leapt quietly to the floor. The bad man smell was strongest, then the slightly sour smell of the cousin, then Lola herself. My tail lifted when I recognised her scent and I had to squash the urge to call out to her. The man was still here, and the closer I got to him, the more he smelt like danger to me.
I pushed the feeling down, locking his scent in my memory so I could focus on Lola. I dropped back into a crouch and moved into the hallway, testing the air as I went. Lola, Lola, Lola. Her smell was rising, growing stronger and sharper, and my movement got stiffer and stiffer until I reached the garage.
I let the other man’s scent back into my attention and nearly recoiled from the strength of it. A hint of another man rode underneath it. This one was less foul, more poisonous fungus than chemicals and evil. And over that, Lola! A different Lola scent now, her own, but weaker, like she was sleeping. Or dying.
I panted with the urge to launch myself around the door jamb. But living with Mia had taught me that a little bit of thinking before acting usually gave the better result. It took me a lot of treats to learn that level of patience, but now I planted my butt on the tile and drew in all the scents I could find, and tuned my hearing to the garage.
The two men—my lip curled and I smoothed it back down; air from outside—the garage door must be open; hot metal and gas—they’d backed a vehicle up to the open door. And Lola. My Lola. My Lola in danger.
I swore I could almost feel Mia’s hand on my head as my haunches rose off the floor. Lola and the car were the closest smells; this was my moment.
I skidded slightly on my way around the doorjamb, but got myself under control in less than a second—one of the benefits of four-paw drive—and then I was into the garage. The white, boxy truck was too tall to fit into the garage, but the back doors were open like wings, blocking any view from the road. Both men were up near the front of the van. One was talking. His tone was Mitch-and-Hudson-on-the-couch relaxed, but the lies in his words changed his energy to black. The other guy wasn’t talking, but he jittered and twitched so much his scent wobbled in the air, like birds in flight.
I ignored everything else and honed in on Lola’s smell. It was concentrating, cone-like, in the back of the truck. I followed my nose, and leapt in without even a click of a toenail. It was crowded with wrapped shapes that gave off muted people smells. And in the back, behind a couch, was my Lola.
I’m not exactly a mini-yapper Chihuahua type , and the space was already tight to begin with, but I managed to wedge myself down beside her. Normally, when I was this close to Lola her scent enveloped me and her energy reached out to mine until we were a big satiated mass of LolaNevilleness. But today her scent was weak and her energy was weaker, barely extending an inch or two off her body. And the smell of the bad man lingered on her. It was so strong I could feel it wrapping its way through my mind, dulling my thoughts. Shaking my head didn’t help, and when I nuzzled my way up to Lola’s head, I found a cloth wrapped around her muzzle. And that cloth was soaked in the bad man smell.
My fogged up brain still had the power to make the connection between the smell and Lola’s state, so I knew I had to get it away from her. I worked the cloth down her muzzle until I could pull it free. First time I’d ever wished she was one of those smush-faced types. I shook my head again, trying to push away the confusion, grabbed the nasty cloth and ran it to the back of the truck. I dropped it onto the garage floor and let out an explosive sneeze. My head was suddenly much clearer and I could hear the change in the tone of the conversation up front. They’d probably heard the sneeze too.
I made it back to Lola’s side in two big leaps. We needed to get out of here. Her scent was getting stronger and her energy reached briefly for mine, but she wouldn’t get up. I whined softly in her ear, torn by the desire to wake her, and the need not to bring the attention of the bad men on us. She stayed frozen, her eyes closed.
The voices up front were changing now, and as they moved closer I heard the familiar rumble of Hudson’s voice. Hudson! He’d help get Lola out! His sniffer was nowhere near as good as mine, but he’d still know these were bad men. I made it over the couch before one of the front doors closed and the engine started up.
I snapped my teeth down on the calling-of-the-pack howl I was about to let loose. Hudson was at the front of the running truck. Even if he moved as soon as he heard me, the truck could still take off—and he might get hurt.
A scrape on the garage floor told me one of the men was moving toward the back of the truck. A quick sniff said it wasn’t Hudson. I scrambled over the couch to hide as the rear doors slammed shut, then leapt over it again as the front door closed and the vehicle started to pull away. There had to be a way we could still get out.
The truck shot down the street and I bounced off the wrapped parcels as I worked my way to the back doors. I planted my hind feet and lifted up to look out the window. Hudson was there, standing in the road in front of Lola’s house. A small whine escaped through my nose. I pushed my paw against the glass and resisted the urge to drop my head back and howl. A couple of huffing breaths later and I dropped down and made my way back to Lola. My Lola.
I shoved and wiggled at the couch until there was just enough space for me to lie behind her, and then I laid a foreleg over her side. She stretched briefly, making my tail thump on the floor, then went still again.
I worked my other leg under her head, surrounding her as much as possible. The bad man’s scent had taken her away, but my scent would bring her back. It had to.
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