cotton case brushed my fingernails, and I braced against the pressure.
It never came. He, or she, flew up and away, whapping against the far wall and hitting the ground just like the pillow had, but with a much louder whap. Something smaller and tinny bounced onto the floor as well. Perhaps a tooth. I wouldn’t be surprised. Or sorry.
My attacker leaped up and ran out of the apartment, weaving a little, banging into the doorjamb, then stumbling down the stairs. The silence that followed rushed in my ears like a rolling river.
I was light-headed and dopey from lack of oxygen. I was having a hard enough time accepting that someone had tried to kill me. That the would-be murderer had flown through the air with the greatest of ease only proved I was still out of it.
The wolf remained unconscious, which left her off the hook for the tossing, even if she’d had the opposable thumbs to do it.
Tear the creep limb from limb. Yes. Pick up and throw? No. Pick up and throw without touching anything? I had no answer for that question at all.
I sat up, head spinning, got my feet on the ground and stood. I needed my phone but I couldn’t think where I’d put it.
“I should call it,” I muttered, then started laughing. How could I call my phone without my phone?
I put my hand over my mouth to stop the scary sound of my laughter. What was wrong with me?
My phone flew off the kitchen table then skidded a few inches in my direction. A shiver raced over me, raising goose bumps everywhere.
I dropped my hand. “That didn’t happen either.”
I sounded so certain, I nearly believed myself.
I brought up the keypad on my phone screen, then paused with my thumb poised over the 9. I really needed to get rid of the wolf before the cops came. But how? She still lay there, eyes closed, her ribs lifting and lowering steadily.
I moved closer, reaching out, pulling back. I was a veterinarian, for crying out loud. I knew better than to touch an unconscious animal of any kind. That was a great way to get bit. And a wild animal?
That was a great way to get rabies.
Which was the main reason I wanted her out of here. Not that she had rabies. But the authorities would think so. Wild animals—especially twitchy ones like wolves—did not venture into populated areas unless they were starving or rabid. As it wasn’t the time of year for starving wolves, this one would find herself in a cage or worse while they waited to make sure she didn’t foam at the mouth. She’d saved my life; I couldn’t do that to her.
I whistled. One of the wolf’s ears twitched. She had a white circle of hair at her neck. Invisible if you weren’t very close and her neck wasn’t craned just right.
I clapped my hands. Her eyes opened.
Henry?
No one here but the wolf and me. Who was she talking—
Wait a second. I’d never heard anything from her before. Of course I never really heard anything from any animal. But why would I imagine she’d think—
Henry!
Exactly. I didn’t know any Henry.
The wolf sat up. I stepped back and kept stepping back until my legs bumped into my daybed.
She flicked a glance at me, the eerie light green of her eyes even more so with the sunlight streaming through the window over the sink. But her gaze moved on, roaming the room as if searching for something. Or someone. Perhaps—
Henry.
She stared at the bathroom door, and that shiver I’d had before returned. Was there someone else in my apartment besides the insane masked man or woman?
“Who’s Henry?”
The wolf’s eyes returned to me.
“For that matter, who are you?”
Prudence.
My wolf was named Prudence. Hadn’t seen that coming.
You can call me Pru if you like.
“Sure, why not? And Henry? Who’s he? Where is he?”
Her gaze went to the bathroom again.
“In there?”
No. He is next to the bookcase.
“The only thing next to the bookcase is more books.” I needed a bigger bookcase, but who didn’t?
You can’t see him.
It didn’t sound like a question, but I answered anyway. “No. Should I?”
Her blue-black fur rippled, a lupine shrug. Probably not.
“Why not?”
He’s a ghost.
Chapter 9
“Sir.” Owen moved back.
Becca’s father stepped into the cabin.
“Bly’b,” Owen said, and shut the door.
The man cast him a confused glance. “Excuse me?”
That had sounded like gibberish.
“The dog.” Owen waved at the bed. “I told him to stay in German. It’s how he was trained,