Josh’s face looked drawn and there were still dark hollows beneath his eyes, but he smiled when Keen wiggled at his feet. Mr. Ginormous bounded over and all but flattened him, whereby my dog threw herself on the puppy, pinning him to the ground.
Of course, if the pup wanted to object, she wouldn’t have been able to move him, he already outweighed her. But he submitted, lying limp beneath her paws.
“Hey, it’s okay, Keen!” Josh leaned to pet her, and she backed off. The pup continued to lie there, but now he rolled to present his stomach.
“Who’s this?” he asked as he rubbed the puppy’s belly. The dog flipped over and gathered himself to fling his body onto Josh, but Keen fastened him with a stony stare, so he wriggled instead.
“His name is up to you,” I said. “But I have a few suggestions. Like Godzilla. Or Kong. Anything that wraps considerable size together with mayhem.”
“This is your surprise?” Chris struggled for a stern expression, but I could tell the utter delight on Josh’s face was melting his resolve. “How old is he? And what is he, other than hellhound?”
“About six months. He’s just getting his adult canines. As to breed, I’m not sure,” I confessed. “Wolfhound or Dane, mixed with lab?”
“Obviously not Chihuahua,” Chris pointed out, running a hand through his hair. “He’ll be bloody huge. And am I the only one appreciating that part of him might be a breed designed to hunt wolves?”
“As long as he doesn’t catch any,” Josh said, laughing, “what does it matter?” He staggered as the pup ignored Keen’s warning growl and jumped up on him. On his hind legs, he already stood almost the same height as Josh.
Chris shook his head. “He sleeps in the barn.”
“I’m putting an old quilt on the floor in the bedroom,” corrected Josh.
Chris sighed and looked at me. “I hate you.”
I grinned.
The puppy spun, his paws digging up chunks of manicured turf and his tail whipping around to clout Chris across the upper thighs. He winced and hunched reflexively at the near miss, before glaring first at me, then at the dog.
“Total havoc. Just what we need.”
Josh laughed. “Havoc! Perfect!”
Havoc? Thinking of the battering ram tail, I had to admit the name suited.
When Peter, Josh, and the dogs headed to the house, Chris cut me off. “Liam and I will be in the barn,” he called to them.
Peter spun and fixed me with a stern look. “Talk to Chris about the partials.”
Figures he wouldn’t forget that. “Yeah, okay,” I said, aware Chris stared hard at me.
“What was that about?” Chris asked as we walked to the barn.
I debated dismissing the entire thing. My main concern was Peter. But knowing my old friend, he wouldn’t let this go. Unless he forgot it.
“Liam?” Chris drawled the name, with that enforcer tone that said, don’t mess with me. “You haven’t been experimenting with partials, have you?”
“I’ve got questions about them,” I admitted, and I did. “But can we talk about it later? I think we have bigger worries right now.”
Chris nodded and didn’t argue, which added to my sense of unease. We reached the barn and he diverted us to a long bench that ran along a wall, beneath their version of a lean-to. The plant pots and bags of earth stacked to one side revealed that Josh had been using it and the table nearby for mixing soil. Chris sat down and I joined him.
“So did you get the story from Josh about last night?”
Chris looked away. His reaction confused me. After a moment, I asked, “Is something wrong?”
His mouth twisted before he spoke. “When I asked Josh about last night, at first he said nothing happened. Then he told me maybe he’d gone over to your place. Then he remembered you’d eaten Chinese takeout. When I asked if he stayed for a run, he said he thought he did.”
Thought he did? What the hell?
“Josh brought Lee’s takeout,” I said. “We went for a run and Peter flushed a hare and killed it. When Keen sniffed at it, he tried to attack her. Josh knocked him away, and we both faced him down. Peter took off. When he got back, he didn’t remember any of it.” My confusion showed in the rapid-fire recounting of events.
Chris glanced at me, his eyes bleak. “Josh has no memory of that.” He looked away.
Peter was getting elderly for a wulfan and had been through a terrible attack that almost ended his life. There were explanations for what might be happening to him. But Josh wasn’t old. What the hell was going on?
“Josh didn’t remember me calling to say I was coming over, did he?”
“No.”
“Chris, what the hell?”
He sighed. “There are things . . . you don’t know.”
“Are you talking about the mutant wulfleng?”
He looked startled, soon followed by resigned. “Sam.”
“She told me about the two that died in wulfleng form, and how the wulfan examiner found anomalies in their bodies. She said you guys were worried about a new strain of the virus.”
Chris’s expression was grim. “The examiner sent the samples to experts on the wulfan virus, to a lab in Winnipeg.” He shook his head. “You should have seen those wulfleng. They were hard to put down. It took four of us, and we’d never have done it without guns. We’re hard to kill as wulves, but a bullet to the brain works.” He sighed. “When you’re fighting, you focus on the battle, on accomplishing the goal. When I saw the bodies on the table, I realized how lucky we were. These guys were huge, bulging with muscle, and with oversized teeth and claws.”
“Like Dillon.”
Chris nodded. “We didn’t see it, not at first. But after Sam pointed it out, we realized she’s right. Other than hair color, they’re just like him.” He looked at me. “You probably don’t realize how strange that is. Each of us appears different
