“No, he’s just tall. I don’t have my house keys since they’re locked in my car, so I’ll need to get through the window,” he says as he goes around to the back of the house and jimmies a window open. “Crawl in there. The dog probably won’t eat you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You’re like a weed, you should fit. Just don’t look him in the eyes and it should be fine.”
“Alright, sure,” I say as I walk over to the window. There’s a giant head already in the window looking out. “Hey, buddy! You’re adorable!” I reach a hand out and he sniffs me over, like he has to make sure I’m all right. “How do you handle life with such an evil owner?”
He wags his tail, making me smile.
“I’m not evil to him. Now get your ass in there.”
“Yes, sir,” I say as I hoist myself up so I’m hanging from the window before looking back at him. “Don’t look at my ass.”
Marcus’s eyes don’t even stray from mine. “I’m not.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Positive. Go.”
“I even wore my super-tight jeans. They’re so tight that I’m struggling to climb through the window, but they make my ass look fine.”
He snorts, but I see a hint of a smile. “Get in there.”
“I will as soon as you say, ‘My, Finnigan, what a fine ass you do have!’” I say with a very posh accent.
“Am I supposed to turn British too?”
“Wouldn’t hurt. It might make up for your rancid personality,” I say as I continue my climb. Once I slither to the floor inside, I turn to the giant dog that towers over me. “Well, aren’t you handsome?”
He seems a little uncertain as I hold my hand out but permits me to pet under his chin. His wagging starts to quicken as I realize that I already love this dog that is big enough for me to ride.
“Artemus, don’t you dare let him pet you,” Marcus growls.
“Aw! Does he usually not let people pet him?” I ask. “How cute! You already love me, and I love you.”
He leans into me as I find an especially good spot behind his ear.
“Eat him, Artemus, please!”
“Artemus, how about we let your squeaky owner in before he hurts himself? He’s a little angry at the moment,” I say as I stand up and head toward the front of the house with the giant dog by my side. I’m pretty sure if he stood on his hind legs, he’d be taller than me, which hurts me a little.
I reach the front door and flick back the curtain to see Marcus hovering there. “Who is it?”
“Open the door.”
“I don’t like that attitude, sir. I won’t open the door unless you tell me who it is.”
“Do people find this little sarcastic sassy act cute or something?” he asks.
“Aw! Did you hear that, Artie, he thinks I’m cute!” I say as I unlock the door and pull it open.
Marcus’s handsome and scowling face greets me. “No.”
“No? You want me to shut the door? If you insist.” I start closing it, but he stops it before it shuts.
“First off, no, you’re not cute. Second, don’t give my dog a different name.”
“Why? Artie is a cute name. You like Artie, don’t you?” I coo and the dog’s entire body wiggles. “See?”
Marcus sighs and then heads off as I kneel in front of Artie and ruffle his ears.
“You’re such a big and handsome pup. How’d you get so cute?” I ask.
His head is huge and I’m pretty sure he could eat me as a snack if he wanted to, but I’m also pretty sure he already loves me.
“Come here, Artemus, ignore him,” Marcus says as he returns with the keys.
Artie just merrily pants in my face, completely ignoring Marcus.
“How dare you betray me, dog! Don’t look at him. Stop looking at him.”
“He can’t. He loves me too much.”
“No! You can’t steal my dog. Why does he like you?”
“Everyone likes me but you.”
“Clearly, you’ve done something to their brains.”
“Not yet.”
He sighs. “Let’s get going.”
I say bye to Artie, which is devastating. “I’ll be back,” I assure him.
“Not unless you’re planning on breaking into my house,” Marcus says.
Chapter Five
FINN
Overwhelming panic hits me. It’s like he’s leaning over me, breathing down my neck. I can feel him here. He’s here, I know he’s here. I jerk awake and push from my bed as I grab my gun. In my moment of panic, I forget that I don’t have my prostheses on and fall forward, barely catching myself since my only hand is holding on to my gun. I slam into the ground and ram down onto my face.
I’m filled with panic as I try to get up and get the light on because I know he’s here. He’s watching me. He’s found me. And I’m defenseless. There’s nothing I can do to stop him. I roll onto my side and push myself up onto my good knee as I shove my gun under my left armpit so I can reach up to the bedside table and turn the lamp on. Light floods the room, taking away the unreasonable panic.
He’s not here. I’m alone. It was just a dream. A dream that made me bust my face on the ground.
I feel like a fool as I switch the gun’s safety back on and set it on the bedside table as I sit on the ground, breath heavy. I reach for my leg prosthesis and it falls down and hits the ground, just out of reach.
“God fucking dammit!” I yell as I kick it hard. It slides under the bed and I end up ramming my toes on the bed, which causes me further anger. “Fuck, fuck.”
I take a deep breath. It’s not the prostheses’ fault. They’ve saved me from having to live life in a wheelchair.
But without them, I feel so vulnerable. So weak. I feel like he’s going to reach out of the shadows and grab me and I’ll be defenseless.
I tuck my head into the crook of my right arm as I still my pounding heart. It’s such an old fear that I thought years could cure it, but I’m not sure anything will cure it besides his dead body. Maybe when I stand over him and watch the life leave his eyes, I will finally be able to face the dark and not fear it.
Marcus thinks he can scare me, but there’s only one thing I’m afraid of.
And he has to die.
I steady myself and reach for my arm. I pick it up and attach it before sliding onto my stomach and crawling under the bed to grab the prosthesis I kicked under there in my panic. I attach it before crawling back into bed, but I know I won’t be able to sleep.
I have a red spot on my face that’s threatening to bruise from when I face dived into the carpet, but there’s nothing I can do about it as I walk up to the department. Just as I’m reaching the door, a familiar face appears in front of me.
“Hey, Hayes!” Johnson, a human analyst from homicide, says. I worked with him often when I was with the other department.
I smile at him. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, a group of people wanted me to come so they could apologize about that vampire attacking me,” he says. “Are you sure all of this was a good idea? I mean… you suckered me in with those tickets, but later I got to thinking about how working here’s a little extreme. Even for you.”