Rachel Lee - Something Deadly

He was racing to kill the woman he loved.

Dec’s heart beat heavily with anxiety and fear. He heard the mournful howl from the back of the house. He realized as he rounded the corner of the house that she was no longer the woman he loved.

She had been taken over by evil.

He pulled the vials out of his pocket and drew a cc of tetradotoxin into the syringe. He watched her, standing in the middle of the yard, arms thrown wide in celebration and triumph.

She was a stranger looking back at him with Markie’s eyes.

“Hi, honey,” he said, smiling as he had always smiled when they met.

Markie felt the darkness inside her try to force her to reach out and hurt…. “Dec…”

He leaped at her, knocking her to the ground. He dropped to his knees beside Markie, beside the love of his life, whispering, “God help me…I’m sorry….” He plunged the needle into her arm and rammed down the plunger.

Markie grew still. Dec felt for her pulse.

It was gone.

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Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

Shadow smelled it first. He lay on the living-room floor at his owner’s feet, sprawled on his left side with a rawhide chew bone a whisker’s length from his nose. He’d worked the knot for a while earlier, massaging his gums, as close as he was likely to get to the satisfaction of gnawing fresh, warm meat from the bones of a kill. Now the comforting scents—the half-chewed bone; the master’s feet wrapped in old leather slippers; the rug still rich with the aroma of pipe tobacco, though the master had long since stopped smoking; beef and potatoes and carrots and red wine in the pot on the stove; the barest remnant of the master’s wife’s perfume, even though she’d gone out the door; the salt air that was ever-present; loam on the master’s slippers from the garden; the varied and precious scents of Shadow’s world—were displaced by something else.

He drew in the air in quick, rapid sniffs, emptying his lungs when he could hold no more, repeating the process again and again, focusing, letting his agile mind filter out the familiar to pinpoint the new odor. Cold. Earth. Must. Decay. Chill. Death. Evil.

Woof.

One quick noise, as much to chase the horrid scent from his nostrils as to alert the master. But the smell would not leave. The growl grew low in his chest as he rolled onto his haunches, not yet standing, still sampling the air.

Go away!

“What’s wrong, buddy?”

The master’s voice, so soothing with its deep rumble, barely reached his mind. In a smooth, graceful motion, he rose and trotted to the front window, his nose still foul with the air. Couldn’t the master smell it? Probably not. The master and his wife missed so much of the world.

His pupils widened as he approached the glass, beyond which lay the dark world, full of the rising scents of nighttime. But they held no interest. It was there. It was right out there.

Arrf-arr-arr-arr-arr-arrf!

Begone! This is my master’s home! You may not enter!

If it heard him, or understood, it paid him no heed. But his friends in the other houses heard, and understood, taking up the cry.

“What, Shadow?” the master said, now at his side.

Shadow looked up at him, then out the window again, growling an angry warning as it approached.

“There’s nothing there, boy! Stop that racket.”

The master couldn’t see it? Of course he couldn’t smell it, but couldn’t he see?

ARR-ARR-ARR-ARR-ARRUFF-ARR-ARR-ARRUFF-ARRUFF!

No! You can’t have him! I will die before I let you near him! Begone! Evil! Danger!

Shadow looked up, his teeth bared, as it came through the glass—how could that be?—and leapt up at it, snarling and snapping, clawing at it and finding nothing.

“Calm down, boy!” the master said, though his scent now held the tiniest inkling of fear.

Be afraid, Master! Run!

Shadow grabbed the cuff of his master’s pants and pulled.

Run! Please!

The master reached down to push him away. Noooooo! Shadow made one last lunge, then turned to the foul horror that seemed to stab at his nostrils like the quills of a porcupine and let out a savage growl, leaping between it and the master.

But it passed right through and into the master’s body, now curling and ripping inside him. The master crumpled to the floor. Shadow pushed at him with his firm nose.

Fight it!

He pawed the master’s arm, then his face, carefully, so that only the soft hairs between the pads of his paw touched the skin.

Don’t go!

But the awful evil would not be deterred. With a horrible, joyful cry, it tore something deep inside. Shadow heard the ripping sound and saw the light go from his master’s eyes.

Noooooo!

But the master’s spirit wouldn’t listen. It floated up and off, leaving nothing but the limp husk on the floor. Sated, the evil left, though Shadow was only dimly aware of its leaving.

The master’s spirit was gone.

No more morning walks to talk to Shadow’s neighbors.

No more of his rough hands behind Shadow’s ears, working fur and skin and flesh as joy danced in Shadow’s heart.

No more easing his feet into the slippers to settle in for dinner with his wife.

Shadow turned his nose to the heavens and howled at the master’s soul.

Please don’t leave me!

Please don’t leave!

Please don’t!

Please!

Kato wanted to take a walk. The barking of the neighborhood dogs a while back had seemed to unsettle him. Kato, more wolf than Siberian husky by nature, temperament and appearance, often paced for hours, mimicking the forebears who traveled thirty or forty miles a day through the woods.

Thanks to his husky sire, Kato was smaller than the ordinary wolf, only about eighty pounds. But he had inherited the long legs and huge paws of his wolf mother, as well as coal-black coloring and tawny eyes. There was no mistaking his maternal heritage.

Markie Cross, his owner, kept him only by virtue of the fact that she was a veterinarian and there was no local law against wolf hybrids.

But a half hour ago, the neighborhood dogs had burst into a frenzy of barking. Kato hadn’t joined them, but Kato rarely barked. He sat at the sliding glass doors that opened onto the back lanai and stared out into the darkness, listening to the cacophony of yaps and woofs that seemed to come from every direction.

Markie hardly paid it any mind at first. As always, it had begun with a lone dog in the distance and steadily spread, until all the dogs outside their homes were engaged in the chorus.

But as the sound built, she realized she was feeling a shiver of unease. It didn’t sound like the usual howl-fest that dogs would start and stop for no reason other than sociability.

Finally she looked up from her book and paid full attention. These were definitely barks of warning.

She glanced at Kato, her closest connection to the canine world, but he was sitting with his back to her, staring out the glass doors. He didn’t join the chorus, nor even move as if he were impatient to be out there howling along.