The Unseen, Page 3

  “It’s going to be all right,” he told her, resting a hand on her slender back. “If it’s still there and alive, we’ll help it.”

  Rain started to fall as they strode out the front door and across the lawn. When they were far enough away from the house, Dragos shapeshifted, expanding in size rapidly until Pia shrank in his perspective to the size of a doll. The dragon bent his head to her. She touched his muzzle, a quick, affectionate gesture, and then he scooped her up to nestle her in a secure cage of his claws and launched into the air.

  When they had decided to leave the city and move upstate, Dragos had learned every detail of the back and side roads of his new terrain. Well versed in the layout of the nearby town, he flew with exact precision to the street where Elizabeth Creedy had lived.

  Once there, it took only a few moments to figure out the location of her street address. Within minutes the dragon touched down silently in the middle of the road in front of a small, well-kept craftsman-style house.

  It was close to midnight, and the surrounding neighborhood was mostly dark and quiet. Streetlamps provided regular sparks of illumination that highlighted spitting rain and newly formed puddles on slick asphalt. A few lights shone in windows, but Dragos felt certain there weren’t any witnesses to their arrival. Setting Pia on her feet, he folded back his wings and shapeshifted back into his human form.

  Pia gave him a mute glance. She was so obviously bracing herself to discover something grim and sad inside, he shook his head and plucked the Tupperware container out of her hand.

  “You don’t have to do this.” He kept his voice quiet. “I can. Wait here.”

  “As much as I love you, I have to say, you’re a scary sight to most people.” She spoke as quietly as he did. Her eyes were huge shadows in her pale face. “Imagine how scary you’ll be to one starving, scared dog.”

  “At this point, it might be scared enough of anything and inclined to bite,” he told her. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Plus, if the dog was in bad enough shape that it had to be put down, he could do that quickly without the added emotional distress it would cause Pia if she were present.

  “Okay.” She twisted her hands together. “Be gentle.”

  He nodded and strode up the walk to the dead woman’s house. As he crossed the porch to the front door, the boards underneath his boots creaked. Hysterical barking erupted from deep inside the house.

  He glanced back at Pia. That answered the main question. The dog was in the house and still alive. And it was in decent enough shape to be energetic about intruders.

  Grasping the doorknob, he broke the lock with one quick flex and eased inside. The smell of urine and feces assaulted his nose. Abruptly, the barking stopped. Dragos followed the telltale sounds of scrabbling until he reached a shadowed bedroom. His keen eyesight could see very well by the dim light of a nearby streetlamp. Miss Creedy had been tidy. The bed was made, the drawers and closets closed.

  He could hear the stressed breathing and terrified heartbeat of the dog cowering underneath the bed. Going down on one knee, he infused his voice with Power.

  “You’re safe,” he said. “Come out now.”

  It was a mundane creature. Normally, it wouldn’t understand a total stranger who chose to carry on a conversation with it, but the magical compulsion in Dragos’s words brought it out from underneath the bed. It stank. When he laid his hand on its shivering back, he could clearly feel its spine and ribcage underneath the tangled fur.

  A quick scan told him several things. It was not a young dog, perhaps nine or ten years old. It weighed around twenty-five pounds but should weigh closer to thirty, but while it was suffering from hunger and stress, its underlying constitution was sound.

  “Good dog,” he told it. He set down the Tupperware container and opened the lid. When he offered it a piece of bacon, the dog hung its head and refused to take it. “Eat.”

  More trembling underneath his hand. Timidly the dog took the bacon from his fingers. The taste must have triggered its appetite because it wolfed the piece down. Dragos offered another piece. This one was snatched out of his fingers and inhaled. He fed the dog a third piece. Then a fourth.

  A soft footstep sounded behind him. Pia had slipped into the house. He said telepathically, Could you bring some water?

  Of course.

  Within moments, she stepped into the bedroom carrying a bowl of fresh water, which she set down beside Dragos’s foot. The dog’s trembling had increased at her presence. Moving the bowl closer to it, Dragos said, “Drink.”

  It obeyed, lunging at the water in ravenous gulps.

  When it lifted its dripping muzzle from the bowl, Dragos said, “Good dog.” He cast a sleep spell, and the dog folded onto the floor with an exhausted sigh.

  Pia’s voice sounded thick with unshed tears. “That was excruciating.”

  “It didn’t want to eat. I had to compel it.” Dragos straightened out of his crouch.

  “I’m not surprised. It’s scared to death.” Pia moved to the doorway. “I’m going to turn on the light.”

  A moment later, light flooded the room. Together they regarded the sleeping animal on the floor. Dragos said, “It really is the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen.”

  Pia tilted her head as she examined the dog more closely. “It’s a he, not an it.” She went to the bed where a crocheted throw lay folded at the foot. “This will smell like home. Hopefully that will be a comfort.” Shaking it out, she knelt to wrap it around the sleeping dog.

  “Right.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll call animal control.”

  Pia rose to her feet and turned to face him. “Dragos Cuelebre, you’ll do no such thing.”

  He paused with his phone halfway to his ear. “I won’t?”

  “We’re taking him home with us.”

  An avalanche of reasons for why they shouldn’t piled up in his mind. He said, “Pia—.”

  Raising her chin, she held up a stiffened finger. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. This dog was loved by a good woman who was kind to our son. She’s dead now, and you can keep him from pining to death and make him eat. We’re taking him home tonight.”

  She had called him by his full name, and that stiffened finger meant business. Apparently, now was not the time to bring up the sex and the sleeping, and the indulgent breakfast that had been on his agenda before crossing over to Rhyacia.

  Biting the insides of his cheeks, he kept his tone mild. “I see.”

  She knelt again to wrap the sleeping dog in the throw. “I’m so angry for not thinking of this sooner. The poor thing didn’t have to go through the last three days.”

  “Go easy on yourself. It’s not like you were close friends with Miss Creedy,” he felt compelled to point out. “There were any number of people who knew her better and could also have thought of this sooner—like the principal at her school, and the other teachers.”

  “I know. That doesn’t make it any easier. At least he didn’t die, and we can help him now.” She picked up the dog and stood. “Could you see if there’s any dog food we can bring with us? It’ll be better for him if he can eat the food he’s used to, at least for the next week or so. Be sure to grab his bowls.”

  “All right.” A quick search of the kitchen unearthed a bag of premium dry dog food along with several cans of wet. Tossing everything into a paper shopping bag, he joined her where she waited by the front door. “This should tide it over until we figure out what to do with it.”

  “It’s a him, not an it!” She glowered, but his tact had its limits and he had no true remorse to offer. She sighed. “Okay, let’s go home.”

  “Sounds good to me.” He was all too glad to leave that place that smelled like abandonment and stress. Escorting her outside, he changed into the dragon, scooped her up, dog and all, and headed home.

  The rain came down in earnest now, and was threatening to turn into an outright storm, with lightning flickering in the distance. While his tough drag
on’s hide provided all the shelter he needed, the woman and the dog he carried couldn’t repel the weather quite so easily. He shielded them as best he could with both front paws, and after he had landed on their front lawn and shapeshifted back into a man, he scooped the dog out of her arms, and they ran for shelter.

  Once inside, she headed for the kitchen and he followed. She turned brisk and businesslike. “Please put him on the counter.”

  “He’s filthy.”

  Her blue eyes flashed, but her tone remained patient. “I know he is. Put him on the counter anyway. It can be cleaned later. I want to trim off that tangled fur while he’s quiet. You can keep him asleep for me, can’t you?”

  “Of course.” Dragos laid the animal on the counter.

  “Thank you, my love.” She reached up to give him a kiss, and some of his crankiness faded. “I’m going to make you a drink. Do you want coffee, tea, or brandy?”

  One of the fascinating aspects of mating and marriage was the infinite complexity and variety of their communication with each other. On the surface, Pia simply asked if he wanted a drink, but in reality what she communicated was more nuanced.

  He took a moment to puzzle it out. Right now, she was both praising him for helping to rescue the dog and soothing his irritability at thwarting his attempt to foist the dog onto someone else.

  Was she placating him because she was apologetic? No, that went too far. She had drawn a line, and she wasn’t sorry about it. But she was offering to reward him for letting her have her way.

  Communicating with her could be every bit as complicated as dealing with inter-demesne relations. It also had the added bonus of being much more enjoyable. Pleased that he was (almost) certain he had figured it all out, he replied mildly, “I’ll take a brandy.”

  She smiled. “Keep an eye on him until I get back, okay?”

  “Sure.” Laying his hand on the dog’s torso, he scanned to make sure it was still deeply asleep.

  Within moments, she returned with his brandy and a pair of scissors, and as he took a seat at the kitchen table, she unwrapped the sleeping dog and trimmed around its muzzle and face. After that, she lifted its tail to clip the hair around its rear end. Sipping his brandy, he watched her work.

  After a moment, she remarked, “His collar says his name is Skeeter. I think he might be a cockapoo? With maybe another breed mixed in. He has the bones of a good haircut. She must have had him groomed, maybe six weeks ago. He’s definitely due for another one. And of course, he had an incontinence problem in the house, poor baby.”

  The brandy was one of his favorites and slid down his throat like golden fire. Casually, he offered, “I can hire someone to look after it full time, you know.”

  Her blue gaze lifted from the dog, and she looked at him from underneath lowered brows. He returned her regard with a bland stare of his own. Pia wasn’t the only one who could say several things with one statement.

  “Him.” Her tone had turned implacable. “Not it.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he had to concede that point. “Him.”

  She turned back to her job. After she finished grooming the dog, she picked him up to lay him gently on the floor. Then she swept the clippings into the trash bin, cleaned the scissors and the countertop with disinfectant, and washed her hands. Clearly, her mind was busy at work on something. “We got Liam a puppy. Maybe we should have one for Niall too.”

  “Liam took responsibility for his dog,” Dragos pointed out. “Niall is still just a baby.”

  There was a wall clearly visible in those beautiful blue eyes of hers, and it was swiftly growing to a width and breadth that rivaled the Wall of China. “Niall might grow every bit as quickly as Liam did.”

  “Niall hasn’t yet shown us what he’s capable of. Plus, the last thing we need is for him to stab the dog or set him on fire.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Pia said with conviction. “We wouldn’t let him.” She filled one bowl with water, and the other with dog food. “We can’t keep Skeeter unconscious forever. You need to get him to eat and drink a bit more, then take him out.”

  “I am not calling any creature Skeeter,” Dragos said. “And how did looking after him suddenly become my responsibility?”

  Pia scowled. “He has lost his person and his home, and he hasn’t eaten for three days. You can keep him calm, and you can encourage him to eat and drink, so you can get him through the worst of the changes he has to face when he wakes up.”

  She might have a point, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Fine,” he snapped. “We’re still leaving for Rhyacia in the morning.”

  “I didn’t say we weren’t, my love.” As she reached up to kiss him, the front doorbell rang. Her scowl returned. “Who could that be at this time of night?” Dragos spun toward the hall, but she caught his arm before he could escape. “You take care of Skeeter. I’ll go answer it.”

  She was not going to let him off the hook. He growled, “Fine.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured softly.

  Damn it. Every time she used that tone of voice, he turned into a sucker. This woman had more power over him than anything else on earth. Succumbing to the inevitable, he gave her a swift kiss then turned his attention to his current albatross.

  Crouching, he waked the dog gently. It still needed a bath, but it smelled better now that Pia had given it a hygiene trim. As it sat up, he infused his words with Power again as he murmured, “Be calm.” Whining, the dog licked his hand and shivered. He cupped the side of its head. It was too small and stringy to consider as a snack. “Eat, drink. All is well.”

  When the dog obeyed, Dragos kept most of his attention on Pia as she answered the door. Not that he was concerned. While they enjoyed a great deal of privacy in the evenings, they did not live alone. Guards, the house staff, and groundskeepers resided in various buildings all around them. And besides, Dragos had erected his own wards all over the property. If whoever stood on their front doorstep meant to do them harm, he felt certain he would know about it.

  Still, anyone knocking on their door in the middle of the night had a story to tell, and chances were good that the story would not be a usual one. He heard the hinges of the door creak as Pia opened it.

  The fresh, wet scent of rain blew down the hall and into the kitchen, along with the astonishment in Pia’s voice. “Aryal! Niniane?”

  “Pia!” Niniane exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you! I was afraid you might have left for Rhyacia before I could get here.”

  Aryal and Niniane were here?

  Niniane was a little slip of a Dark Fae woman who used to go by the nickname Tricks. She had lived as a refugee in his demesne (when it had been his demesne) for many years. Now, she had taken her rightful place as Queen of the Dark Fae and ruled in the Other land of Adriyel. Tiago, who had once been one of Dragos’s Wyr sentinels, had mated with her and left New York to go live with her.

  The dog had finished gulping down its meal. Dragos strode to the kitchen door, opened it, and ordered, “Out. Do your business.”

  The dog dashed out. Dragos barely paid attention. He was focused on the conversation going on at the front of the house.

  Adriyel was some distance away, with crossover passageways that connected it to Chicago. Niniane and Aryal arriving together was not such an outlandish proposition, since they’d once been thick as thieves, but what was Niniane doing here? And why had she come without Tiago?

  There was a shuffle of footsteps on the hardwood floor, and a rustle of clothing. Dragos’s imagination suggested hugging and such.

  “It’s wonderful to see you!” Pia said. “But what are you doing here?”

  Niniane giggled—or sobbed?—and said, “I’ve decided to go with you.”

  “What?” Pia said.

  Aryal snapped, “You what?”

  Out on the lawn, Skeeter had taken care of his business with remarkable promptness. He must have had to go for some time. Dragos snapped his fingers at the dog. “Inside. Now.”<
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  Lifting its leg one last time, Skeeter dashed into the kitchen. Dragos shut the door and strode to the front of the house, the dog at his heels.

  It was just as he suspected. The arrivals on their front doorstep had a story to tell.

  Chapter Three

  “What?” Pia felt stuck on repeat. She stared at the two women on her doorstep.

  Niniane stood around five feet tall, and her build was slight enough that the harpy could carry her in flight. Like Dragos and Pia, Niniane and Aryal had been caught in the rain, only they’d had farther to fly.

  They were both drenched. Niniane carried a backpack on one slender shoulder. Her silken black hair lay plastered against her forehead, emphasizing the angular structure of her small face, the large gray eyes, and revealing her pointed ears. Her energy was odd, clenched and opaque, as if she was cloaking her Power in some way. While Pia took note of it, she didn’t understand what it meant.

  Aryal glared at the little faerie. “All you said was that you wanted to see Pia,” she snapped. “You didn’t say anything about going to Rhyacia. Does Tiago know about this? The way he was relaxing with the others at the bar, I’m betting he doesn’t.”

  Niniane’s shoulders crept up, and she gave Aryal an apologetic smile. “He’ll figure it out when I don’t come back. Right?”

  “What the hell, Tricks?” Aryal said, her expression firing with real anger. “You’re leaving him? Is that any way to treat the man who changed his entire fucking life for you—who mated with you?”

  Niniane’s expression grew appalled. “No, no—you misunderstood. I’m not leaving him! I’m leaving Adriyel, and I haven’t figured out how to tell Tiago yet. I’m hoping I’ll know what to say by the time he catches up.”

  The harpy didn’t look placated. “Oh, so you decided to change your life without talking to him first? And he’s supposed to just go along with whatever you dictate? Fuck that. Just… fuck the fuck out of that. Nobody should treat their mate that way.”