Wicked Bad (Wicked 3 2)

The dog planted its paws on her chest, sending her hurtling onto her back with his zeal, and she hit her head. Brilliant, glowing lights flashed behind her eyelids.

She was so cold her skin felt like it was actually scalding. Pain sent her spiraling into the cold, empty dark.

A fine end to her short adventure in humanity.

Chapter Three

She was burning up. Why was it so hot? She tried to lift her hand to wipe the trickle

of sweat off her temples, but when she couldn’t, her eyes opened wide in panic.

The dog. The dog was sleeping on her arm. She wasn’t tied up in some basement waiting for Freezer Burn, or whatever that thing that was chasing her called itself. She was home, laying on her comfy, second-hand sofa. She must have dragged herself the few remaining blocks and just not remembered.

She curled her fingers into the silky sable pelt of her hero. He was a big dog—too much of a mutt to tell what breed. And he was laying heavily against her left side, nearly pushing her off the couch entirely. No wonder she’d been hot. “I guess you saved me after all, didn’t you boy? I’ll have to have Gary make you a nice, rare steak in the morning to thank you properly.”

He stared at her with beautiful hazel eyes that glittered with intelligence. His mouth opened into a wide, doggy smile, his tongue lolling out and his sharp, white teeth gleaming in the lamplight.

“Steak sounds good to you, huh? Well, if I were my ordinary self I could just wriggle my nose and make you a feast fit for canine royalty. Unfortunately, in my current state, the best you can hope for are some microwaved wieners.”

The dog barked excitedly, as if to let her know that sounded fine to him, and she pushed herself to a sitting position. She winced at the pain in the back of her head, inhaling sharply as she touched her scalp. A whopper of a goose egg was forming from where her head had hit the concrete.

The rough tongue licking her arm made her smile. The dog whimpered apologetically, and she scratched him behind his floppy ears. His fur was so soft her hand tingled as she touched it. It made her smile. “I’ll live. Don’t worry, I’m still making you dinner.”

She walked slowly to the kitchen, with each step feeling the aches and bruises that hadn’t been there before. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a package of hot dogs, her head pounding.

As she punched buttons on the microwave, she tried to piece together what had happened tonight. The unusual customer whose voice reminded her of the Magian’s from Triune, the vision of Lorie, the psychotic being that wanted to freeze her where she stood.

Three months she’d been without magic, yet today it seemed to be everywhere. She had to call Conway. She couldn’t escape the conclusion that someone knew she was here, and they weren’t family. Family wouldn’t try to kill her.

She cut the steaming hot dogs into chewable pieces and spoke to the dog, who’d followed the aroma into the kitchen. “Looks like my adventure is over, dog. No more laundry days, no more tips from friendly truckers. No more freedom. You are lucky, dog. No one wants anything from you but company.” She chuckled. “I can’t keep calling you dog, can I? Not after you rescued me. How about…Prince?”

The dog barked excitedly, lifting his paw against her leg. “Prince it is. And I’ll treat you like one as soon as we get home. That is, if we can’t find anyone to claim you.”

She set down the food and went to her purse to grab her cell phone. It wasn’t there. She looked all around the living room. Nothing. “You’re kidding me. I saw that phone before I left work. I know I had it with me.” She buried her face in her hands. “It must have fallen out when I hit the pavement. I don’t remember…” She lifted her head and looked at the dog again. “Anything. I don’t remember anything after I fell. How am I still alive? I was unconscious. Easy pickings. And no offense, Prince, but I don’t think you would have been much of an obstacle. You should be a poochie popsicle. Unless you have some fire breathing talents I don’t know about.”

Prince tilted his head before lying down on the floor beside the couch, watching her intently.

“How did we get back here?” She rubbed her throbbing temples and closed her eyes, desperate to remember.

“I carried you.”

Harrison was so startled she fell off the couch, landing on her hip with a surprised yelp of pain. “Son of a bitch!”

Him. It was Jacob. He’d found her. Either that or the bump on her head had caused an incredibly realistic hallucination.

He raised one perfect, dark blond eyebrow. “Perhaps. But now is not the time to talk about my mother. You’re injured. I’ve returned with a tea that will heal you.”

Jacob turned without another word and headed into her small kitchenette, looking for all the world like a giant at a child’s tea party as he filled a pot with water and placed it on the stove.

Harrison made a face at Prince, who hadn’t reacted to the new arrival at all. “What? You only do one rescue a night?” The dog rolled onto his back playfully. “Don’t think cuteness gets you off the hook, buddy. Not right now.”

As she spoke to the dog her mind was racing. How had he found her? How was she going to get out of here? Where the hell was her cell phone, now, when she needed to call her cousin and get out of Dodge?

And wasn’t it just too coincidental that she’d been magically attacked only hours before one of the two people she’d most wanted to avoid showed up in her apartment?

“I can feel you panicking over there, and I have to tell you that I’m a little insulted. We went through a lot of trouble to find you, Harrison Abbott. The least you can do is pretend to be polite. In spite of your behavior, we did save your life. We are, after all, your matches.”

“We?” Harrison stood on shaky legs, looking nervously around the small one bedroom apartment. “So you’re not alone then?” She shouldn’t be surprised. They did look…close…the last time she’d see them.