Moonlight Calls (Demon's Call Series Book 1) (2 page)

The dog paused
in the yard and put its nose to the ground to sniff in circles, no doubt
following the erratic path of a squirrel.  It was such a normal, doggy thing to
do that I let my breath puff out, not realizing until then that I’d even been
holding it.  The first wash of unease faded, but the warm, tingling sensation
in my chest remained.  

I took in the
dog’s long, gleaming black coat.  Obviously, this wasn’t some rabid stray.  It
was probably some breeder’s pride and joy.  Whoever owned it was probably
beside himself.  I berated myself for my overreaction.  My imagination had
gotten the best of me again.  I really had to stop reading those fantasy novels
before I ended up in the loony bin.

I watched the
dog sniff his way to my patio.  When he reached the screened enclosure, he
stopped to stare at me.  He whined softly and I reached out a hand to trail my
fingers over the screen, letting him sniff them.  I didn’t even realize that
I’d gotten so close, drifting toward those mesmerizing green eyes without
thought.  I straightened and made a shooing gesture at the beast.

“I’m not letting
you in so you might as well scram.”  He gave me a pathetic doggy look, but I
turned my back on him, resolute.  It was hard.  I’m a sucker for strays.

I picked up my
coffee cup, sat back down in my plastic chair, and watched the dog sniff around
the riverbank.  Eventually it got sick of the scents there and moved on down
the river.  It glanced up my way once before trotting off.  I knew the stress
of the day had finally caught up with me when its green eyes actually seemed to
glow.

I sat on the
patio, chewing on the end of my pen and doing my best to give myself frown
lines.  It was one of my precious days off and I was spending as much of it as
I could outside soaking up the glorious sunshine, skin cancer be-damned.  I had
scooted my patio table and chair to the far corner of the porch, where the
slanting rays of sun could sneak past the roof and touch my skin.  But the
warmth of the sun couldn’t erase my bad mood.

I ran a hand
through my frizzy hair and glanced at the bills scattered on the plastic table
in front of me.  I’d been through the pile a dozen times now.  I was just going
to have to pay a few of them late.  Again.  I pulled the phone and the local
paper closer to me and began to hunt for the number for the want ads, the pen
cap still firmly clenched between my teeth.  I was
this
close
to
growling.

I didn’t want a
roommate, but I really didn’t have much choice.  Ever since I’d split with my
boyfriend, Kyle, left I had to scramble to make ends meet.  Even with the reduced
rent, I was struggling.  I was working as many shifts as I could at the county
hospital, and at the psychiatric hospital outside of town, but I just wasn’t
making enough money to make ends meet. 

Add to that the
tuition I was paying for nursing classes at the community college, and it just
wasn’t working.  I’d begun to come to terms with this fact a couple of weeks
ago, but my subsequent search for a cheaper place to live had been so
disappointing that I’d  retreated once again to my favorite state of mind-
denial.  So my options now were to either get a dumpy apartment in Ishpeming,
or find a roommate.  An annoying, nosey, noisy, nuisance in my space.  I
swallowed my complaints and told myself to get on with it already.

I tapped my pen
against my notepad.  I had absolutely no idea what to write in the ad- I’d
never done this before.  What should I say:

 
Financially
challenged female with trust issues and no sense of cleanliness seeks roommate
who will never be home, keep the house spotless, and pay my bills?

Somehow I
thought not.  As I leafed idly through the want ads in order to see what mine
should look like, my eyes were drawn to an ad at the bottom of the page:

Responsible
woman seeking upstanding female roommate with apartment.  Nonsmoker. Clean. 
Works long hours.

It was written
just for me.  I shrugged off a shiver and pushed my coffee mug away.  Enough
caffeine for today.  I squinted down at the ad for a moment. 
What the hell
,
I thought blithely.  If this person were as uptight as she sounded, maybe I’d
never have to worry about cleaning the house.  She was probably a middle-aged
divorcee or something like that.  But as long as she helped me pay the rent, I
couldn’t care less.  Besides, if answering this ad got me a roommate, then I
wouldn’t have to fork over the cash to post an ad of my own. 
Win-win
.

A quick
telephone call connected me with a bored secretary who helped me set up a
meeting with my prospective roommate.  I was apprehensive about having a
roommate, but one that had her own secretary might just be worth it.  Yeah, I
was thinking dollar signs.  So sue me.

*****

For once, I
actually left work with a smile.  I’d worked an early shift and Amanda, one of
my best friends from work, met me downtown for lunch at a local diner.  Gwinn
is a tiny town in the middle of nowheresville in Michigan’s upper peninsula. 
We like to call it
charming
and
historical
.  Which really means
small, and old.  Just recently, the town had finished a restoration project on
the old clock tower.  Even during a recession, the town had been willing to
gather donations for the project.  Unlike most of the townspeople, I thought
the money would have been better spent feeding homeless children or something. 
But I wasn’t about to go up against the local committee of white haired
matrons-on-a-mission.  Historic preservation is no joke. 

I met Amanda by
the shiny white clock tower and we walked around the little downtown area,
soaking in the sunshine and fresh air.  She nudged me playfully.  “Hey, thanks
for last week by the way.”  She shuddered in an exaggerated way.  “Jesus, I
thought that guy was going to rip my freaking head off.”

I nodded in
agreement.  Andre, a three hundred pound schizophrenic man, had decided that
Amanda was a demon from the depths of hell and had tried to send her back
there.  Luckily, I have a knack for handling agitated people.  Once I managed
to get my hands on Andre, he had calmed down as if I’d just unplugged him.  His
tension, and my nagging stress headache, had flowed away like water down a
drain.

 “He followed
you to his room like a little puppy,” she said in disbelief.  “You are really
something.”  I shrugged.  It was just a talent I had- a characteristic like
being a people person, or being good with animals.  That’s all.

Amanda, being
her amazing self, let it go.  That’s
her
talent.  We got lunch at a
quaint diner that catered to locals and the small gathering of tourists that
the town attracted.  It was a great place to eat, if you didn’t mind the
plethora of animal heads mounted on the walls.  There’s just something
unsettling about having half a buffalo stare at you while you eat- but you get
used to it. 

As we entered
the restaurant, a couple was coming out.  I almost didn’t recognize the man
with the thin blonde.  Last time I saw Kyle he had been skinny and haggard. 
The stress of our relationship had seemed to drain him, leaving him worn and
waifish.  In fact, I’d started to wonder if he was concealing a secret illness
or something.

He had filled
out a lot since then, and his eyes had re-gained some of their sparkle. 
“Mya.” 

He paused in the
doorway.  He didn’t seem to know what to say.  The feeling was mutual.  I felt
a little pulse of something from my middle.  Almost like longing.  Almost. 
Maybe it was just hunger pangs.  Or gas.

I nodded at the
woman with him- Jennifer, I think her name was- but didn’t go so far as to
speak to her.  Shifting my gaze back to Kyle I said, “You’re looking well.”

He shrugged. 
“Am I?”  I clenched my teeth.

Kyle and I had
been together for years, and he had been my first and last serious boyfriend. 
Things had been on the rocks for some time before he called it quits, but
learning that we would never have kids stalled any thought of marriage.  Kyle
had never made it a secret that he wanted a large family.  Tired of fighting
for a relationship that was bound to leave him feeling empty, he left me for
the skinny- and, knowing my luck, wondrously fertile- blonde down the street.

 People were
beginning to stare.  In a town this size there is no escaping your past.  “Glad
to see you’ve moved on.”  My voice was flat.  I wasn’t trying for bitchy, but
it came out anyway.

We passed each
other as if we were strangers.  Something about Kyle still gave me a strange
feeling in the pit of my stomach.  But hey, he didn’t have any funky colors
hovering around him, so that was a bonus.  Amanda raised her eyebrows, but I
didn’t comment.

*****

The next day, I
dragged myself out of bed and did my best to tidy the house under the influence
of a tenacious migraine.  My potential roommate was coming over, and I wanted
the house to be spotless.  After a few hours of hectic cleaning, I was once
again sitting on my patio, in a nice pair of jeans and a button down shirt with
little flowers on it.  I wanted to look nice when I met my potential roommate. 
I had cleaned up the house, lighted a few scented candles, and even made a nice
pitcher of lemonade.  I was such a nice, normal, generous person- at least
that’s what I was trying to convey.  I admit, I felt guilty about the deception,
but I was hoping that by the time she discovered what a God-awful mess I was,
she would already consider me the daughter she never had… and continue to live
here and pay my rent.  I’m good at daydreams.

Unfortunately,
the dog chose this time to come limping into my yard.  He had come back to
visit pretty regularly since the first night, and I decided that he probably
was a stray after all.  He wore no collar, and occasionally arrived filthy,
haggard, and hungry.  I had taken up the rather ridiculous habit of feeding him
whenever he showed up.  He never touched the dog food I got for him, and I’d
sunk to feeding him scraps of meat.

 My foster
mother would have a fit if she was around to see it.  As a child, I was always
trying to take in strays and wounded animals.  They usually ended up “running
away,” which was a convenient excuse until I got old enough to realize that the
nuns, and later my foster mother, were secretly whisking them away to the
animal shelter.  Okay, so maybe a dog the size of a horse was a bad place for
my misguided affections.  But I just couldn’t help myself.

He usually came
around at night.  The first evening I’d been sitting on my patio listening to
the crickets chirping, unwinding with my cup of hot cocoa only to glance over
and see his green eyes glowing at me from behind the screen, I’d almost wet
myself.  This time he was hopping along on three legs, holding one of his big
front paws up in the air.  He made his slow, pathetic way up to the small maple
tree by my screen door.  By this time, I was already making my way outside-
bleeding heart. 
Oh look, its hurt.  Maybe I should mess with the strange,
wounded horse-dog
.
  Yep, that’s me.

He stopped under
the maple tree and slowly sank down onto his haunches, his eyes on me the
entire time.  I stepped closer and ruffled the silky black fur between his
ears.  It was strange, but after that surge of fear on our initial meeting, I
was completely unafraid of him.  I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.  Ignorance is
bliss and all that.

I examined his
hurt paw, being careful not to cause any more damage.  It had a long, ugly gash
running down one side, and a couple of puncture marks that I could only guess
were animal bites. 

“You stay here
dog.”  I spoke gently, tying to keep him calm.  “I’ll get that cleaned up.”

I went back
inside and got a couple of old washcloths, some anti-bacterial ointment, and a
bowl of warm water.  I questioned what the ointment would do for stray dog
bites, but I had access to the good stuff.  The nurses at the hospital told me
that the best anti-bacterial ointments contained silver.  I was skeptical at
first, but it worked on just about anything and I’m pretty clumsy, so I keep
myself stocked up.

I pushed open
the screen door with my elbow, careful not to slosh water everywhere.  Kneeling
beside the dog, I set my wanna-be vet supplies on the ground.  I dropped one of
the washcloths into the bowl of water and picked up the dog’s wounded paw.  It
was massive, easily as big as my hand.  I barely breathed, afraid the dog would
react to the pain I caused by ripping my arm off.  Being as careful as I could,
I sponged off the wounds.  They weren’t so bad.  The gash wasn’t nearly as deep
as I originally thought, and it had stopped bleeding.

The beast seemed
completely unconcerned.  After watching me curiously for a few minutes, he
licked my hand, puffed out a doggie sigh and closed his eyes, dropping his head
onto his uninjured leg.  Once I had the wound fairly clean, I picked up the
ointment.  I uncapped the tube and picked up the dog’s paw.

At that moment,
several things happened.  The dog’s nostrils flared as his eyes sprang open and
his ears flattened to his head.  He pulled his lips back with a deep, God-awful
snarl and leapt at me.  I had the presence of mind to try to backpedal, my butt
scooting across the ground as I crab-walked out of the way.