so?”
“I’m throwing it now!” And she pitched the EZ-OUT ladder straight up. It was only six pounds and it was a terrific toss, which is why Devoss watching it fall back to the ground was aggravating. “Okay, don’t be scared, I’m gonna throw it again. You have to catch it, Devoss!”
“Just step back, espalda—” He broke off to cough. “—retour!”
“Okay, here it comes!”
“Will you just get out of the way, you silly bitch?” With that, Devoss dived out the second-story window, turned a goddamned somersault, and landed right in front of her. Like he’d stepped off a boat and onto a dock. Like he’d hopped down from a SuperCab. NBD.
“Don’t call me silly” was all she could manage before grabbing him. “Are you okay? Are you burned?” She felt his shoulders as he coughed, looked at his hands, shoved his sleeves up to look at his arms, glared into his eyes. “Are your eyes okay?”
“Are yours?”
“What’s—” There was a low, ripping growl behind her, and she turned to face a sight that wasn’t as frightening as a house fire, but definitely made her top five. A black wolf the size of a border collie had slouched out of nowhere—well, not nowhere, obviously. But the thing’s stark coloring had kept it hidden; the only bits of color were its eyes, glaring at her like baleful lanterns. She straightened and shoved Devoss behind her. “Jesus Christ, this neighborhood.”
“I’m okeydokey,” Devoss called, peeking around her to address the wolf because of course he was. “Don’t scare her. If that’s even possible.”
“Which one of us are you talking to?” Lila asked.
The wolf crept closer, but at least it wasn’t growling anymore. Lila wondered if it was possible to net the thing with the EZ-OUT ladder. Why did I bring ladders and wet rags to a house fire? Why didn’t I bring a shotgun? What an idiot I was!
Then another wolf came loping out of the dark, this one lean but large, dwarfing the smaller animal; its furred red ears were level with Lila’s waist. The only light to see came from the fire (now merrily blazing through at least two rooms) and a lone streetlight, but even so, Lila could make out the tawny fur and the white markings around the muzzle. Greenish-yellow eyes flared as it moved to stand between her and the smaller wolf. She knew it at once: the wolf she had hit with her nonbulance… Had it only been three days ago?
“Whoa.” From Devoss, who had stopped trying to peep around her and was trying to stand in front of her. She shoved him behind her as the wolf let out another low growl while the smaller black wolf stood its ground. And while the black one didn’t stand down, exactly—its fur was still standing out from ruff to tail—it didn’t growl, and it backed up to give the larger wolf more room for…what, exactly? To feast? To run? To huff and puff and blow Macropi’s house down?
Just as she had decided the wee hours couldn’t get even a bit weirder, she caught movement on her periphery and saw…
No.
No, definitely not. She was seeing things. She had at long last cracked, because while she could handle the bear cub and the fox and the B&E and the trashed screen door and the pop-ins and Ox’s distracting cuteness and her sudden urge to forcibly strip the man and make him knock her up and 1:00 a.m. teddy bear surgery and two wolves prowling a suburban lawn while a house fire raged in the background…
…all that, she could take. But the sight of a kangaroo bounding over was, obviously, the most direct way her brain had found to signal her impending insanity. Everything else could be real, but not the Australian marsupial squatting unconcernedly on a front lawn in Lilydale, Minnesota.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, and she knew that as a response, it was both lacking and overused. But… She had nothing. Nothing. Sure, the big wolf had made the smaller wolf back off. And yes, the kangaroo had bounded closer but wasn’t pummeling or kicking her (at the moment). And none of the animals were trying to eat her. Or Devoss, who was still peeking around her and seemed remarkably unconcerned about all of it.
And yeah, she was resigned to nightmares about fires for the rest of the month. Or season. Or year.
But now what? Now…the fuck…what? Because this was problematic even if they weren’t her neighbors.
Fortunately, the distant wail of sirens