door for Jonathan, someone says, “Let me help you with that dog,” and you’re scrabbling on the concrete, trying to dig your claws into the sidewalk just outside the door, but there’s no purchase, and they’ve dragged you inside, onto the linoleum, and everywhere are the smells and sounds of terror. Above your own whimpering you hear Jonathan saying, “She jumped the fence and threatened my girlfriend, and then she tried to bite me, so I have no choice, it’s such a shame, she’s always been such a good dog, but in good conscience I can’t—”
You start to howl, because he’s lying,
Now you’re surrounded by people, a man and two women, all wearing colorful cotton smocks that smell, although faintly, of dog shit and cat pee. They’re putting a muzzle on you, and even though you can hardly think through your fear—and your pain, because Jonathan’s walked back out the door, gotten into the car and driven away, Jonathan’s left you here—even with all of that, you know you don’t dare bite or snap. You know your only hope is in being a good dog, in acting as submissive as possible. So you whimper, crawl along on your stomach, try to roll over on your back to show your belly, but you can’t, because of the leash.
“Hey,” one of the women says. The man’s left. She bends down to stroke you. “Oh, God, she’s so scared. Look at her.”
“Poor thing,” the other woman says. “She’s
“I know.”
“Looks like a wolf mix.”
“I know.” The first woman sighs and scratches your ears, and you whimper and wag your tail and try to lick her hand through the muzzle. Take me home, you’d tell her if you could talk. Take me home with you. You’ll be my alpha, and I’ll love you forever. I’m a
The woman who’s scratching you says wistfully, “We could adopt her out in a minute, I bet.”
“Not with that history. Not if she’s a biter. Not even if we had room. You know that.”
“I know.” The voice is very quiet. “Wish I could take her myself, though.”
“Take home a biter? Lily, you have kids!”
Lily sighs. “Yeah, I know. Makes me sick, that’s all.”
“You don’t need to tell me that. Come on, let’s get this over with. Did Mark go to get the room ready?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. What’d the owner say her name was?”
“Stella.”
“Okay. Here, give me the leash. Stella, come. Come on, Stella.”
The voice is sad, gentle, loving, and you want to follow it, but you fight every step, anyway, until Lily and her friend have to drag you past the cages of other dogs, who start barking and howling again, whose cries are pure terror, pure loss. You can hear cats grieving, somewhere else in the building, and you can smell the room at the end of the hall, the room to which you’re getting inexorably closer. You smell the man named Mark behind the door, and you smell medicine, and you smell the fear of the animals who’ve been taken to that room before you. But overpowering everything else is the worst smell, the smell that makes you bare your teeth in the muzzle and pull against the choke collar and scrabble again, helplessly, for a purchase you can’t get on the concrete floor: the pervasive, metallic stench of death.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
PETER BELL is a historian, living in York, England. He is a member of the Friends of Arthur Machen and the Ghost Story Society. He writes for
MARIE BRENNAN is the author of the Onyx Court series of London-based historical faerie fantasies:
MIKE BROTHERTON is the author of the science fiction novels
JESSE BULLINGTON is the author of
STEPHANIE BURGIS is an American writer who lives in Wales with her husband, fellow writer Patrick Samphire, their son, and their dog. Her YA Regency fantasy novel
AMANDA DOWNUM lives near Austin, Texas, in a house with a spooky attic, and works at a bookstore in addition to writing, cat-herding, and falling off rocks. Her short fiction has appeared in
STEVE DUFFY’s stories have appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies in Europe and North America. Two new collections of his short fiction,
KAREN EVERSON is a jack-of-all-arts. She has published fiction, non-fiction and poetry. Recent publications include “Support You Local Werewolf,” another Olwen story, in Esther Friesner’s anthology
JEFFREY FORD is the author of the novels,
LAURA ANNE GILMAN started out on the editorial side of publishing, but went freelance in 2003. Her urban fantasy