The Devil's Own: Murphy's Law, Book One Page 3

  I patted the dog on the head, then went back to work at my desk. Every time I glanced over, the little guy had his head down and I was pretty sure I heard snoring from time to time. At least he was comfortable.

  When Ernie returned a few hours later, the dog was awake enough to lift his head and watch as the boy carried in bags of supplies.

  “What is all this?” I asked, surprised at the number of things he’d brought with him.

  Ernie flushed. “Well, you never know what a dog might like. I brought three different kinds of food. And sometimes when our dogs are sick, it’s hard to convince them to eat, so I brought some cans of chicken too. You can put this on top of dried food and it might get him started. I figured you could use some bowls to put food and water in for him, so those are on the bottom here.” Reaching into the bag, he pulled out the bowls, followed by a retractable leash, the handle a bright purple with a repeating black fleur-de-lis pattern all over it. “And I thought this looked like you. Hey, there’s even bags for it. You put them in the end here.” He demonstrated, flipping it over and opening the end of the handle.

  “Bags? For what?” I asked, confused.

  Ernie laughed. “Um, you know. So, you can pick up his messes. These are the kind my sister likes to use for her dog. They have pretty designs on them. And they’re scented so you don’t have to smell, well, the stuff.”

  I was speechless for a second and almost thought I heard something like a canine chuckle from behind me. I turned to look at the dog, but his head was down again, his eyes half closed. When I looked back at the supplies strewn out on my counter, I sighed. This was more than I’d really thought about when considering giving the poor dog a temporary home.

  “Did I bring too much?” Ernie asked. He’d run his hands through his hair and it was standing up in spikes. He bit his bottom lip, something I’d seen him do before when he was nervous.

  I tried to be reassuring. “Oh no, Ernie, you did fine. I was just surprised, that’s all. I’ve never had a dog to worry about and didn’t realize everything I’d need.”

  “Good,” he said, grinning at me. “You’ll like having one around. Also, I brought these beds for him. You can put one in your living room and one in your bedroom. That way, he can sleep on the floor and still be pretty comfy.”

  He handed one of the beds to me and I had to admit, it was soft. The brown fabric would blend in with the rest of my furniture easily. “Good choice. I just wonder if it’s a lot of stuff for him to be here temporarily.”

  Ernie seemed to deflate a little. “You really don’t think you’ll keep him? I mean, he seems so relaxed in there. I feel like he’d be the perfect sort of dog for a lady like you.”

  I quirked a brow at him but swallowed the question that popped into my head. I was no more than a few years older than Ernie.

  I shrugged. “I really don’t know. We’ll see how it goes as he heals up.”

  Ernie nodded. “Yeah. Still, you should try to think of a name for him. Dogs always do better when they have a name. Makes them feel like they belong. Like they’re home.”

  “Okay, we’ll work on that. Let me know if you think of a good name for him or anything else we might need,” I said, gesturing at the supplies he’d brought to me. “You do seem to be the expert on dog things.”

  He blushed. “Thanks. Oh, I almost forgot. I showed a picture of him to my mom. She said he looks like a Yorkie, only bigger than they normally are.” He glanced down at his watch, then his eyes opened wide. “Shoot, I better go. Dad’s waiting on me to help him back at the store. He’s been busy today.”

  I smiled as he passed me. “Thanks for all your help today, Ernie. I wouldn’t have known what to do without you being here.”

  He waved goodbye as he skipped down the front steps and hurried back to his car, tearing up my driveway again as he headed out. I was going to have to get it all regraveled one of these days if he kept that up.

  I shut the door and it was just me with the dog. I glanced down to find him staring intently at me. He seemed very human in that moment, his head cocked to the side, studying me.

  “Well, what am I going to do with you?” I asked as I sat down beside him. “At least I have food for you to eat and somewhere to sleep besides the couch.” I found myself idly scratching his ears and then running my hand along the silky fur of his back. “Just remember, this is temporary. Until you’re better. Then we’ll find you a good home with some kids to chase around and walk you all over town.”

  The dog huffed in response, then laid a paw gently on my lap and waited, looking at me. I kept petting him, my hand moving on its own.

  “Okay, if nothing else, you need a name. I’ll see what I can come up with. And I’ll put out some food and water for you. Then I’ve got to get back to work and you need to rest up, get healthy again.”

  By the end of the afternoon, I had managed to make a lot of progress with the work that needed to be done. The dog had eaten every morsel I put out, more than I’d imagined a little guy like him would have been able to. He’d even managed to hobble out to the yard and wander around, taking care of business before coming back to scratch at my back door to be let in. Then he curled up in the bed I’d laid out near the fireplace, his head resting on the edge, watching me as I began cleaning up to make dinner. As I was putting away the bags Ernie had carried everything in, I found a couple dog toys he’d included; soft plushy things that squeaked when you grabbed them. There was even a fancy new collar, royal purple to match the leash. It seemed I was now all-in as a dog owner.

  I tossed the toys out into the living room, turned on some music and began cutting vegetables for stir fry. A little chicken thrown in with them and a generous helping of teriyaki sauce made for a perfect dinner for one, with leftovers for tomorrow.

  As I sat down to eat, the dog trotted into the kitchen and sat down at my feet, watching each bite as it traveled from the plate to my mouth. I shook my head at him, “No, not for you. No people food. Even I know that.”

  He looked at me, his eyes drooping a bit and shining wetly. I was sure he was too old for puppy dog eyes, but this was a pretty good approximation. I got up and filled his bowl with more of the food Ernie had brought for him. Pointing to his dish, I sat down and said, “There’s food for you in there.”

  The dog gave me a reproachful look, then laid down on the kitchen floor, an audible sigh escaping as he did. I laughed and continued eating my meal, purposely not looking when he dragged himself over to the food I’d poured out and begun munching on it.

  I did turn around when I heard scratching behind me and was surprised to see all the food and water gone. Grabbing my empty plate, I rinsed it in the sink and listened to the repeated scratching until I grabbed the bag of his food. The scratching stopped. When I set the bag down again, the scratching started up again. And stopped when I picked the bag up and began to dump some more in the bowl. I had the distinct feeling he was training me.

  I watched him dig into the food. “I’m sure you’re hungry and I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve eaten, but don’t get used to this. You keep eating like a moose, and you’ll make yourself sick.”

  He huffed, which I took for his version of a chuckle, then went back to work wolfing down the food like he hadn’t eaten at all today. I watched him for a minute, then shook my head. “How about we call you Moose for now? Ernie says you’re bigger than Yorkies usually are, and you certainly eat like a moose. Will that work for you?”

  He didn’t answer, but when I went out to the living room and called, “Come here, Moose!” He promptly jogged on in. I was pretty sure that had as much to do with his food being gone as anything but decided to let the name stick for the time being. Whoever took him in later could change it if they wanted to, but I felt like it suited him.

  I switched the music I had playing to modern country, mixed in with the good old stuff. Feeling restless and needing to work some energy out before bed, I sang
along at the top of my lungs and danced around the room, my only audience the dog watching from his bed. By myself, I could sing as loud as I wanted without a worry that someone might overhear me and be drawn in by the power of my voice. After about ten songs, I felt like I could finally get some sleep. I trudged up the stairs to climb into bed, Moose following along behind me. With the light off, sleep pulled me down faster than I’d expected. I barely felt the bounce of the mattress when Moose jumped up and lay down by my feet. I was surprised at the comforting, warm feeling having him there gave me. It was nice not to be alone.

  Chapter Six

  When I woke up in the morning, it was to rain pouring down and pelting the windows. Moose was on the floor, barking as the thunder sounded, his hair standing on end. As I swung my legs out from under the blankets, he turned and walked over to me, stopping to growl over his shoulder anytime there was a rumble above us. He followed me downstairs, staying close as I brewed some tea and slathered peanut butter on toast for my breakfast. I poured food into his bowl before I sat down at the table. It didn’t seem fair that he should sit there and watch me eat.

  I found myself talking to him in between bites. With him there, it seemed odd to be silent. My words wandered randomly, simply voicing my thoughts.

  With much to get accomplished, it was best to get started. Popping the last bite into my mouth, I logged into my computer and spent the morning getting more work done. My mother was the public face of the Murphy Foundation. I’d accompanied her to events until two years ago, but the change was necessary. She smiled and waved for the camera, even though she hated it. I did the paperwork. It worked for us.

  First, I approved a few grant requests that had been sent my way for review. Then, I edited a press release before approving it. Things were clicking right along, and Moose only scratched at his bowl once to remind me to fill it up for him again. By the time I was ready for a light lunch, I’d gotten through most of the work I’d needed to get done. I heated up some of the previous night’s stir fry and gobbled it down.

  I heard the new email alert from my computer and decided to check it before starting my workout. The message from my mother’s assistant was vague, indicating that an article had been mailed to the Foundation’s address. I wasn’t surprised by this. We received all kinds of mail. Mostly things sent by Angus fans, homage pieces written for local papers or school projects. But this was different. This one had been sent anonymously, no return address and no note enclosed. And based on the title, it was about me.

  I opened the attachment and scanned the article, surprise turning to fear. The reporter wanted to know where I was, what I was doing, and why I’d all but disappeared two years ago. The final sentence of the email, telling me that my mother would handle this with the media and that I had nothing to worry about, was meant to reassure me. My stomach twisted. Thoughts of the worst night of my life tried to push their way through the blocks I had set up. I forced myself to breathe, to relax. Remembering what made me leave the world behind wouldn’t help anyone.

  Once the shaking in my hands had eased, I typed a quick reply then shut down my computer. Anxious energy still shot its way through my veins needing to be released.

  My workouts had been limited by necessity while I was gone. It was time for me to get back into my regular routine. Uncle Newt had taught me that it didn’t matter how much muscle you had if it wasn’t trained to endure the long bouts an attack might require. If trained right, my small frame could manage a heavier attacker without much trouble. My fight with the Chaos Demon had proven I could take on someone bigger than me if I was prepared and had a plan. But that wouldn’t always be true. I needed to be ready for anything.

  I pushed myself hard with each exercise, until the only thing I focused on was the repetition of the moves, the strain in each muscle. By the time I was finished, I was dripping sweat and the rain outside had stopped. I thought I might as well check out the acreage before getting cleaned up, as there were some things I needed to make sure were all set for winter’s arrival. I’d made promises to the previous owner of the property when I bought the place that I wouldn’t let things fall apart. And she was a woman you kept your promises to.

  I grabbed a sweatshirt and pulled it on before heading out. Moose followed at my heels as I stretched my legs, trying to cover a lot of ground. We hit the old barn first, which I’d turned into my garage. I had a four-wheeler in there that I used for the longer trips to the wooded area that ran along the back edge of my acreage. I kept an SUV in good condition too, knowing the peril of the country roads when covered in snow or turned into slush by heavy rain. Dad’s Mustang was stored in there as well. I touched the glossy red hood fondly as I walked by. I rarely drove her, but when I did, I felt like I was flying. The ALOOF1 license plate had suited the classic convertible so well when Angus first thought of it that I’d ordered the same phrase at every renewal.

  Then there was my baby, the Hellcat, its purple paint gleaming. Angus had laughed when he’d first seen it, reminding me that he’d always called me his little Hellcat when I was growing up. He questioned the color choice, feeling somehow that the purple reduced its fierceness. I’d pulled a knife from my hidden sheath and thrown it hard enough that it stuck into the wall behind him, shaving off a bare bit of stubble from his chin. I’d followed up with a quip about how I looked good in purple. He never teased me about my car again.

  I whispered an apology to my car as I walked by and grabbed the kit of tools I carried on trips like this. I wondered about Moose trying to stay with me after he’d seemed so injured yesterday, but he seemed to be walking better. I’d let him tag along and see how he did. If we needed to come back early, I could always head back out later and let him stay inside.

  The two of us followed the fence line, making sure it was all in good shape. I found a couple of small holes that were easy to patch up with what I had on me. Moose and I made good progress and we’d been out almost an hour when I caught the acrid scent of something burning on the air. Moose lifted his head, nostrils flared. He’d noticed it too.

  Following the odor, I turned to the west and began jogging. After another ten minutes, with the smell growing stronger and stronger, I could make out a column of smoke that had been hard to see against the gray sky when I was further away. I moved toward it, worried about what a fire back here could mean. With the rain this morning, everything was still wet. Still, I didn’t want to risk flames spreading with the strong Nebraska wind.

  As I broke through the trees, I could see the red flickers of a small fire jumping up. I didn’t sense anyone around but I paused anyway, listening for the sound of someone moving through the woods. There was nothing to indicate danger was nearby. Picking out details of the fire ahead of me, it was obvious it was intentional. Something had been laid across the top of it, causing the harsh scent that first caught my attention. Moose growled at my side and I flinched, having forgotten he was there. Kicking loose dirt onto the flames suffocated them. When they died down, I was able to examine what had been left behind to be consumed.

  The bodies were laid out next to each other, their fur charred and sightless eyes staring up at me. Moose growled again, and I ran my fingers along his back, having sunk down onto the ground, ignoring the dampness working through my pants. A fox and a rabbit, side by side, covered the wood that had been set out on top of the pyre. They hadn’t been intended to be a meal, as they’d been left there to burn intact rather than skinned and skewered. Moose sniffed at the air and I tested it too, wondering what he was sensing. All I could smell was the smoke and cooked flesh. Moose began whining and pawing at the ground. Noting how methodical he was being, I realized why. He was digging a grave, giving me a place to bury the bodies.

  I dug around in my pack, coming up with the work gloves I’d used when mending the fence earlier. With those on, I transferred the corpses into the hole and watched as Moose covered them up. I wondered for a moment if this was normal dog behavior. A shi
ver from sitting so long on the wet ground pulled me from my thoughts. It was time to get back to the house. I needed a shower to warm up and a chance to recover from the sadness and worry the scene had triggered.

  On the walk home, I couldn’t help glancing back. I had a haunting feeling we were being watched but couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. Moose never left my side, matching my speed even as I wondered how he was managing with his injured foot. He seemed to be watching the tree line to our right and his fast pace urged me on. Whatever he was sensing eluded me, but I trusted that if he was worried, I should be too. By the time the house was in sight, we were both well past walking and there was a stitch starting in my side, just above the rib I’d once had knocked out of place during a training session with Uncle Newt.

  Entering the yard, I felt the ward stones test me, a tickle of electricity along my skin as they recognized that I belonged and allowed us in. I whispered the word needed to bring them back to full power as we stepped up onto the porch. The force of the energy rushing back in to fill the space behind me sucked away the air for a moment. I watched the area behind my house, searching for anything that seemed out of place. Finding nothing, I turned and went inside. It was time to get cleaned up and warm. Then I could deal with whatever might be waiting out here.

  Chapter Seven

  I waited until the water ran hot and steamy before stepping into the shower, the heat having warmed the cold tiles. I relaxed, letting the water wash away the reek of smoke and ashes, fear and death. The odor clung to me and I ached to remove it. I poured more shampoo into my hand than I really needed, wanting the comforting scents of vanilla and almonds to engulf me. I scrubbed at my hair, my fingernails roughly scratching my scalp. It was hard to feel truly clean some days. When I could no longer smell the stench I’d carried home with me, I grabbed the milk and honey soap I loved and lathered up. I breathed deeply, these familiar fragrances filling me with calm. As the tension escaped from my muscles, my shoulders relaxed back down, and I was able to breathe easy once again.