Chihuawolf (3 page)

“HEY, VICTORIA!” Tommy ran up onto the diving board again. “WATCH THIS!” He hurried to the end of the board, gripped the edge with his toes, bounced, and then sprang high into the air. He curved backward and completed a half somersault. Then his long, lean body sliced into the water gracefully, barely making a ripple in the surface.

Victoria clapped. She called out when he surfaced, “You did a perfect half gainer, Tommy! I give you a ten.”

Olivia also watched Tommy make his amazing dive. Her face filled with a painful longing when she saw him emerge from the pool and rush over to help Victoria with her beach bag.

Sandy, too, focused on Victoria. He began to smile in a silly, dreamy way, staring at the lovely girl who swayed like a willow as she gingerly stepped around the puddles on the patio tiles. “She's really amazing, isn't she?” he sighed.

“You bet! She came in second in the regional championships last year.” Olivia pretended she didn't know who Sandy meant.

“Championships?” Sandy sounded confused. “Oh, you mean the dog. Yes, she's a good-looking animal. But Victoria is…” He released a long, slow breath. “But Victoria is
beautiful
.”

Natasha sat with great dignity in the shade of a beach umbrella. A drop of water would not dare to dampen her narrow feet. The wind would not attempt to tangle her well-groomed fur. After all, she carried a royal pedigree. She was a princess at the AKC.

She looked down her long nose at the Chihuahua's eager face. “I told you before, munchkin. I cannot be your girlfriend. You are not my type. You are merely a raisin in the Raisin Bran. The dot over the letter
i
. A postage stamp on a letter. In other words, little dog, you are much too small for me.”

“But I can change!” Paco tried not to whine, but he could hear himself, and he clearly was.

“Change? I don't think so. I like take-charge dogs. Big, brawny canines who are sometimes very bad. You remember Bruno, that German shepherd who used to ride around in the back of a police car? Hmmm? Yes? He had a crush on me. He asked me to run away with him—”

“Run away! You wouldn't, would you?” Coco's voice cut in, filled with shock and disapproval.

Natasha sniffed. “Not really
run
away
, the way
you
mean it. At least not for long. I might have sneaked out for a brief race through the park. But that isn't the point. The point is I liked him. Who knows where it would have led if he hadn't chased a squirrel on duty and gotten transferred to a different station…” She sighed. “But you, Paco, you are not big. You are not bad. And it makes no difference whether you call yourself Paco or El Lobo. A name doesn't matter, little
muchacho
.”

Coco, who was not quite as tall as Natasha but many, many, many pounds heavier, got slowly to her feet from her spot on the beach towel. She liked everyone, but when Natasha hurt Paco like this, she thought about grabbing that silky ear and giving it a good shake. The chocolate Lab could not keep silent another second. She butted in again.

“That's not true! Names have a strange way of creating their own destiny. On the inside Paco
is
El Lobo. He has the heart of a lion!”

Natasha laughed. “A dandelion, you mean.”

Paco blinked away his tears. It wouldn't do to cry in front of Natasha. He had to be cool. He stood up on his hind legs to appear as tall as possible. He puffed out his chest. He slowly took off his sunglasses and hung them in the neck of his T-shirt. He leaned an elbow on the edge of the chaise. He
was
cool.

“
Niña
, baby,” he murmured. “I
can
change. I will. At the next full moon. You'll see. I am El Lobo. The Wolf. I will be fierce and dangerous. I will be bigger than Bruno the German shepherd! I will be bigger than any dog you have ever seen because I—I am a werewolf!”

Natasha arched an eyebrow. “You will have to show me before I believe you.”

“
Sí, claro!
Of course! I will show you in—” Paco mentally counted, and he wasn't so good at math, “in three, or maybe four, days.” He smoothly took his sunglasses out of his shirt and put them back on. He made his voice as deep as he possibly could and said, “Then,
mi
amor
, you
will
go out with me.”

Natasha laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “If you become a werewolf in three or even four days, Mr. Cocktail Frankfurter, I will be your steady girl.”

“Hey, Natasha. Hey! Hey!” B-Boy was completing a head spin. “Look at me!” He launched into another power move called a windmill. Then he stood up on his hind legs and popped and locked all the way to the edge of the pool. Taking a mighty leap backward, he somersaulted into the water. It was a full gainer.

“B-Boy, on the other hand—” Natasha drawled in a voice as silky as her coat, “B-Boy may be rather short, but he—
he
amuses me.”

Paco couldn't help himself. He growled. Natasha clearly liked B-Boy better than him. That Jack Russell was nothing but a doggone showoff. He'd never dare to be El Lobo. But Paco was different. He would do anything, no matter how dangerous, to become a magnificent wolf king fit for a princess of the AKC—fit to become the dog of Natasha's dreams!

Several hours later and back home again, Paco sneaked out the doggy door as soon as the sun set. The backyard was silent and empty. Not even a sparrow chirped in the bushes. Not even a field mouse scurried through the flower bed.

Where
is
everybody
tonight?
Paco thought.

Impatient and anxious, he paced up and down the flagstone path, up and down, up and down. He waited for nearly five whole minutes, which seemed like hours to him, before he spotted the white, aged face of Professor Pewmount appearing from behind the rock wall at the far end of the garden.

The old skunk was moving unusually slowly. He took a step and paused. His nose twitched nervously, testing the night air. A rim of red encircled his dark eyes. His head swung back and forth. He peered into the distance, watching for any movement. When he was sure nothing stirred, he'd start forward again.

Paco didn't wait for the skunk to get closer. He ran as fast as he could up to Pewy.

The skunk stiffened with surprise. Something like fear widened his eyes.

Paco didn't notice. The little dog was too caught up in thinking about himself to see that his friend was worried or scared. Paco's body trembled with excitement. He started talking as fast as he could.

“Pewy, hi! Hi! You know what? I heard something terrible howling last night! But I don't know what it was. Did you hear anything? If you did, do you think it was a werewolf? And if you did, and I did, he couldn't be far away, right? But he wasn't close either. So what do you think?”

Then Paco shook from head to toe, as all Chihuahuas do. It doesn't mean they're scared. They shake because their feelings are too powerful to keep inside themselves. And what Paco felt right now was impatient.

Professor Pewmount's sainted mother always said, “If ‘ifs' and ‘buts' were candy and nuts, oh, what a party we'd have.” It was nearly the first thing that came into the skunk's mind as he listened to Paco's excited questions. He scowled at the little dog. He cleared his throat. He took his time. He finally answered.

“Yes, I heard something howling last night. The wild creatures in the forest did too. And some of the wild ones, those with the very best noses, smelled something.
But
nobody
saw
anything
. So we don't know what was howling.”

Disappointment flitted over Paco for the briefest moment, like a batwing in front of the moon. Then he thought of something and brightened. “Pewy, you said some of the animals could smell something. What did it smell like?”

The skunk looked away. He didn't really want to answer.

“Pewy,
please.
I need to know. Tell me,
please, please.
” Paco whined, feeling nearly desperate.

The skunk sighed a deep, ancient sigh and spoke. “The early morning chattering of the woodland animals agreed that the scent was terrible. It wasn't a dog. It wasn't coyote. It could have been a wolf. Yet no wolves have lived in this land for over a hundred years. A werewolf, I must admit, was hmmmnn—errrr—mentioned—by, by, ahem, a squirrel. Or maybe two squirrels.”

Paco's ears stood up. “What do you mean,
mentioned?
What did the squirrels say
exactly?
”

Pewy rubbed his nose. He was clearly nervous. “They said, ‘Last night was a night when humans could not rest in their beds, nor birds in their nests, nor foxes in their dens, nor could the stars stop twisting in the heavens. And on such a night, the werewolf howls.' That's what they said. Word for word.”

Paco shivered. His eyes got very big. “I'm scared, Pewy,” he confessed.

“You should be afraid. We all are. Everyone agrees that the beast, werewolf or not, sounds very dangerous. He's new to the area, and surely he has come to eat us, not to make friends. The entire forest is on high alert. The red-tailed hawks and blue jays are taking the daytime watch. The bats and owls are keeping guard by night.”

Paco squared his shoulders and straightened his tail. “Even though it's very scary, I still want to find this werewolf. After all, I don't have to fight him. I just have to drink rainwater from his footprint. Since he's not far away, where do you suppose I have to go to look for him?”

Pewy shook his head in disapproval. “You are very young and very foolish.
Muy
bobo,
as you would say. No one should go looking for trouble.”

“I have to! Natasha will never love me unless I change who I am.” He began to whine again. It was a very bad habit of his. “Please tell me where the wild ones think the great beast is.”

Professor Pewmount's mouth got tight, as if he really did not want to speak. But if he didn't, he knew the squirrels would tell Paco sooner or later. Squirrels can never keep secrets.

“They say the creature is to the north. A few miles. Near the peak they call Mount Diablo. As I just said, you are young and foolish. You will never listen to someone old and wise. But you should heed me and stay away from there.”

Paco did not hear the wise skunk's warning. He merely heard what he wanted to hear. “Only a few miles? That's splendid. I can run there and back before Olivia knows I'm missing. You know the country better than anyone, Pewy. Which road do I take?”

Professor Pewmount turned to leave. His mind was troubled. He wondered if he should have withheld the truth and told Paco the howling was a coyote. Then again, his long life had taught him that lies were never a good idea.

“Which road, my little friend? Take the white road, of course.” He began to wander away into the dark.

Paco's heart beat fast. He didn't quite understand. He called out, “Pewy! I thought you'd give me a route number, not a color. Why did you say ‘of course the
white
road?'”

The skunk slowed and looked back. “You are not a forest creature, or you would know that. A white road reflects the moon and stars; it can be traveled by night.”

“Of course!” Understanding fell upon Paco like grace.

“Yes, my friend, but the wild ones also know that because a white road can be traveled in the darkness, it can easily lead you into places you would avoid in the light. Dangerous places. Foul lands. Perilous kingdoms. You must be very careful when you follow a white road.”

“I will be! I promise. Thank you, Pewy.”

The learned skunk had reached the far side of the yard by this time. He was nearly out of sight when he stopped. He seemed to be thinking about something. He turned around. He called out to Paco, “I would like you to do something for me if you go.”

“Oh, I
am
going. Tell me what you want. I'll do it.”

The skunk's voice came across the grass like the whistling of the wind. “Don't go alone.”