Page 16

Placida Publishing, LLC.

Imprint: Captiva Press
www.captivapress.com

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2009 by Tymber Dalton

All artwork and logos Copyright © 2009 by Placida Publishing, LLC.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This work may not be reproduced, transmitted, or distributed in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, for free or for sale, without express written permission from the publisher and author.

Distributing copies of this e-book to others is a violation of international copyright law and infringes the rights of the legal copyright holder. This e-book may not be shared, copied, sold, given away, offered as a contest prize, or otherwise distributed to anyone other than the original purchaser. Distributing this e-book individually, or as part of any collection, or with any type of resale permission, is also strictly forbidden and a violation of copyright law.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

I Now Know Why the Dog Howls at the Moon

By Tymber Dalton
©Copyright 2009

Charlene collapsed on her bed after finally getting Christopher down for the night. He was screaming mad, knowing his father would pick him up for visitation the next evening.

“Don’t WANT to go! I WON’T go!” Screamed not like an eight-year old, but more like an eighteen-year old, at the top of his lungs and nearly rattling the windows.

“You have to visit him honey—”

“He doesn’t want me there! He only makes me go because he wants his girlfriend to think he likes me!”

The words stung her more than she wanted him to see. So young—too young to have to deal with this kind of crap. But she hadn’t saved enough money yet to go back to court to reduce or end Hank’s visitation. So they had to endure Hank taking Chris three weekends a month.

Hank acted like such a prick too, constantly trying to gig her into a reaction, perpetually pissed off because she refused to fulfill his prediction—that she would crawl back to him on her hands and knees in six months. Three years later, she still stood strong and he looked worse with each passing month. She got herself back into shape while he piled on the pounds, a heart attack waiting to happen.

His girlfriend, Wendy, looked more frazzled with each turn of the calendar page. Hank probably dished out to that poor woman not only the same abuse he used to give her, but an extra dose since he didn’t have Charlene securely under his thumb anymore.

And poor Chris caught in the middle. Charlene tried not to let Hank provoke her in front of her son, but she was only human and sometimes couldn’t help herself.

* * * *

Chris was all tears when Hank showed up, late as usual. This time, the girlfriend was absent. Christopher hid his head against Charlene’s side and pleaded with her.

“Please Mommy, don’t make me go!”

Fighting her tears, Charlene knelt beside him. “Honey, try to have fun, okay?” She hugged him and brushed tears off his cheek.

“You just fill his head with crap, Char.”

She’d always despised the way he shortened her name. Probably why he insisted on doing it.

Hank grabbed Christopher’s hand. “You’re coming with me. It’s my weekend and that’s it. So you might as well stop the tears now. Come on.”

Charlene waited until the car’s taillights vanished down the driveway before breaking down, sliding down the wall to the floor, arms wrapped tightly around her body, tears rolling down her face and angry screams locked in her throat. Afraid to start screaming for fear she wouldn’t stop. No neighbors close enough to hear, but she had to pull herself together.

After she pulled herself together, she called her best friend Dana, who showed up on her doorstep twenty minutes later.

“We need to get you out of here, hon. You need a little time outside these four walls. And I know the place.”

The women were like sisters, inseparable since childhood. The only time they didn’t live within a few miles of each other was during Dana’s six years in the Air Force, but they’d remained close through email and phone calls. Through everything, the death of Charlene’s parents, her doomed marriage to Hank, Dana stood beside her friend.

The autumn fair was in full swing, a luminous nearly-full moon casting shadows in spite of the bright midway lights. They stopped for greasy fries and watered-down sodas, watching the barkers pitch the games while the .22 rifles at the shooting gallery punctuated their spiels. Charlene tried to ignore the happy families around them.

Dana nudged her. “You okay?”

“I can’t quit worrying about Chris.”

“You’re not supposed to forget. Just try to relax a little. He’ll be okay. Hank wouldn’t lay a hand on him.”

“It’s not his hands I’m worried about.”

“Hey, look at this. Want to take your troubles to Madame Rue?”

They stopped in front of a small, dark green tent. A neatly hand-painted sign read, “Doggone Wonders.” An awning in front shaded two tables of beautiful crystals, amulets, pendants, and other arcane objects. A pretty crystal pendant caught Charlene’s eye and she moved in for a closer look.

A frantic young woman backed out of the tent flap, shaking hands with an older woman while profusely thanking her. She turned and nearly bumped into Charlene. Their eyes connected for a brief moment before the woman brushed past Charlene, disappearing into the midway crowd. But not before Charlene spotted one hell of a shiner on the woman’s right eye.

The older woman didn’t look like a movie gypsy fortune teller. Her grey-streaked hair was caught in bun held by a beautiful jeweled comb. She wore a cobalt blue silk tunic over a flowing black velvet skirt. An unusual black onyx amulet swung from a red satin cord around her neck. Her features ageless, she could have been fifty or five hundred.

Her eyes met Charlene’s. For a moment, Charlene felt frozen by a warm benevolence. The woman smiled. Charlene was dimly aware of Dana discussing the pricing of a bracelet with an older man she presumed was the woman’s husband. Around his neck the same amulet hung from a green satin cord.

The woman held out her hand. “Come. No charge.” The woman’s eyes still held Charlene’s. Charlene briefly wondered if it was some sort of hypnosis.

“Go ahead, Charlene. Hey, it’s free.” Dana was examining another bracelet. “I’ll wait out here.”

Charlene took the woman’s hand and followed her through the tent flap. A faint aroma of jasmine, shifting to orange blossoms and back again, permeated the room. Mismatched pieces of expensive carpet remnant lined the floor. Two large, comfortable pillows flanked a low, octagonal cypress table. Soft light diffused through the room, almost like candlelight although Charlene could see none.

“That girl who just left. She sure seemed grateful to you.”

The woman smiled. “Sit, child. I do what I was placed here to do.” They settled on the pillows and the woman reached across the table and took Charlene’s hand.

Her face clouded as she traced the lines in Charlene’s palm. They both sat silently for several minutes. Finally, the woman released her hands and sat back. Picking up an oversized deck of cards, she silently shuffled them, then handed them to Charlene to cut.

The woman collected them and began to lay them out in a spiral pattern. Charlene didn’t know much about Tarot cards but she couldn’t recall seeing any of these pictures on the decks her dorm mates used to play with in college.

The woman tapped the first one with a neatly manicured but unpainted fingernail. The picture showed a pretty young woman bent over, a huge sheaf of wheat on her back.

“You. The weight of your sorrows bearing you down. Hank refuses to let you be in peace.”

“That’s the tru—” Charlene froze, her words sinking in. “How did you—”

“His name? Same as I know this little one”—she tapped the second card, a young boy with a sad face looking into a mirror where a smiling boy looked back—“is Christopher.”

She moved to the third card, a wizened old man who’d not aged gracefully. A claw-like hand twisted around the head of a cane. “This”—TAP, TAP—“is your trouble. Hank refuses to let you go as long as he can still hurt you through Christopher.”

Charlene wondered if Dana had set her up as the woman moved to the fourth card. TAP, TAP. “Your solution.” A full moon illuminated a two-story house similar to hers. A small, cute black and tan beagle sat in the front yard, with his head tilted to the sky and mouth open.

“A barking dog?” Charlene felt like she’d stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone.

“Not barking. Howling at the moon.”

Next card. TAP, TAP. A doctor bent over something, like an actor leaning into a TV camera. Charlene couldn’t tell what his attention was focused on, but the face looked vaguely familiar. The woman made no comment, just moved on. TAP, TAP. Next card, a blue pick-up truck at night, its headlights on. TAP, TAP. A bathroom.

The woman moved faster, not commenting, just tapping the cards she laid down. TAP, TAP. Another dog, black and ugly, snarling and unfriendly. TAP, TAP. A hypodermic syringe filled with pink fluid.

The last one chilled her blood. “What does that mean?”

The woman met Charlene’s eyes. “Not for you or the little one.”

The man entered the tent and silently passed through, glancing at the woman before disappearing through another flap in the back wall.

“I have said enough.” She stood, and extended her hand to Charlene. Charlene allowed her to help her up and that warm benevolence passed through her again.

“How much?”

“I said no charge.” She smiled. “Please do not worry about your little one. He is fine and he will be fine. You are a wonderful mother and he will flourish with you.”

Charlene had no reply, so she mumbled her thanks before she turned and left. Dana waited for her near the tables, a small paper bag in her hand. “Hey, what happened in there?”

It felt like emerging from a dream. The midway’s noises and lights finally clicked into tangible reality. “Nothing. Everything’s okay.”

Dana noticed Charlene’s mood and left her alone. When they returned to Charlene’s house, she opened the small bag she’d carried from the fortune teller’s tent. “I saw you looking at this. Consider it your early birthday present.”

The crystal pendant on a silver chain was shaped like a teardrop, but even in the darkness it picked up any fragment of light and seemed to absorb it, highlighting the delicate snowflake pattern embedded in its core.

“Oh, Dana, thank you!”

“I knew you’d never buy something like that for yourself. The guy said it’s a good-luck charm. I figured you could use as much as you can get your hands on.”

They laughed and hugged before saying good-night. Dana waited until Charlene was safely inside before driving off. Charlene fingered the pendant and thought about the fortune teller’s words again. How could the woman have known so much about her? Dana must have arranged something ahead of time.

That had to be it.

* * * *

Hank actually returned Christopher ten minutes early. Instead of remaining in the car as he normally did, he followed Christopher up the walk as the little boy bolted into Charlene’s arms. Dana waited in the hall behind Charlene, ready to step forward if Hank tried anything. When he saw her, he hesitated, then finally stopped without mounting the steps to the stoop.

“Next weekend, same time. And no tears this time, dammit!”

Charlene picked Christopher up and he wrapped his arms around her neck. “Hank, you know what? I think it’s time we changed things. Christopher doesn’t want to go with you anymore. I think a judge should hear him out.”

Hank’s face turned bright red in the dusk. He took a step forward, about to say something when a little black and tan beagle she’d never seen before, wearing a green collar, emerged from nowhere and latched onto Hank’s leg.

The tenacious little dog snarled and held on while Hank yelled and shook his leg. Dana moved into the doorway to get a better look and started laughing at the sight.

“Just goes to show you, Hank” she crowed. “Kids and dogs don’t like you.”

Charlene feared for the strange little dog.

“Get this mutt off me! I’m going to sue your ass off, Char!”

“Sorry, Hank. He’s not my dog.” The little beagle let go and danced out of kicking range, snarling at Hank. Blood soaked Hank’s pants leg and the little dog looked at Charlene. In the fading light she couldn’t be sure, but she swore it winked at her before bounding down the drive and out of sight, a black tag or charm of some sort rattling against the collar buckle.

Enraged, Hank started toward the door. Charlene, with Christopher still clutched tightly in her arms, backed into the safety of the house while Dana stepped forward.

“Leave. Now,” Dana ordered.

“That fucking dog—”

“Watch your language around Christopher, asswipe. Now get yourself out of here before it comes back and takes your balls off. Not that it would be any great loss if he did.”

Dana had been an MP and still kept herself in shape teaching karate. She could easily kick Hank’s ass. He had four inches and over a hundred pounds on her, but his was all flab.

Hank hesitated. “I’m going to call the fucking cops, you’d better believe it. Gonna have that dog picked up and have his head chopped off and sent for rabies testing. I don’t care if he had his shots this morning!”

He was still muttering as he limped to his car and sped off.

“Well now, thatwas entertaining!” Dana ushered Charlene and Christopher into the house and locked the door behind them. They got the boy calmed and into bed when Charlene heard the sound of a car in the drive.

“I’ll get it Charlene. You wait here.” Dana met the policeman at the door and invited him in. He asked them both a few questions before putting his notepad away.

“You were married to that guy, huh?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Since it wasn’t your dog, there’s nothing you can help us with other than giving your statement. Don’t worry about your ex. He won’t stand a chance in court if he tries to sue you.”

“I just feel sorry for that little dog.”

He laughed. “Yeah, your ex might have given him something.”

After he left, Dana walked into the kitchen and made them some hot tea. Charlene sat back and thought about the evening’s events as she fingered her new pendant. That’s when the fortune teller’s words came back to her and she remembered the cards laid down on the cypress table.

A small black and tan dog howling in front of a house.

“Dana, can you hang around for a little while and stay with Chris?”

“Sure, but—”

“I’ll tell you later. I’ll be back in a little while.” She grabbed her jacket and purse.

* * * *

The carnival midway sat mostly dark and deserted. A homeless man picked through garbage cans, a few strands of colored lights were still lit here and there, but otherwise it lay eerily silent.

She quickly found the green tent, the tables empty and the tent flap pulled shut. Circling the tent she saw a fifth-wheel travel trailer parked flush against the back side of the tent.

Charlene didn’t want to just barge in, but she didn’t see any other way. Just as she was about to push through the tent flap, it opened and the woman smiled at her.

“Hello, child.”

“Hi.” Charlene swallowed past the catch in her throat. “Um, there was an incident at my house tonight…” She drifted off when she caught sight of a small dog peeking through the back tent flap at her before it disappeared. “Is that your dog?”

The woman turned. “We do not have a dog. I do not see one now.”

“A little black and tan guy, just like the one on the card, just like the one that attacked my ex-husband tonight.”

“No, I do not have a dog. It must belong to someone else.”

Charlene noticed the deck of cards setting on the table and she went over to them, fanning through them, mindless to how rude she must seem. None of the cards she saw before were there. In fact, it looked exactly like the decks of Tarot cards she remembered seeing in college.

“But, I don’t understand—”

“Child, it’s late and you’ve had a rough day. Please try to rest and remember what I said to you.” Her husband appeared in the back tent flap and walked over, standing next to her, smiling kindly.

“You look tired,” he said. “You need some sleep.”

Charlene realized their talismans were not identical but a matched set. Before, except for the difference in cord color, they had looked exactly alike.

“Yes, I really do need some sleep.”

She drove home in a daze. Dana offered to stay the night but Charlene insisted she’d be okay. She somehow managed to make it to work on time the next morning despite feeling like she’d been run over by a truck. Christopher’s school bus arrived late at her office after school. When they walked in the door a little after sunset, Charlene spotted the message light blinking on her answering machine.

“Honey, can you go put your things away? I’ll be right there.” When he was out of earshot, she hit play and turned the volume down. All three messages were from Hank, each nastier and more drunk-sounding than the last. All about the dog-bite incident. Her finger hovered over the delete button, then she thought better of it. He left the messages on her machine, which meant she could probably use them in court. What better evidence against him than his own words?

Later, once she’d put Christopher to bed, Charlene curled up on the sofa to read. Fifteen minutes later a pounding on the door startled her. She pulled the curtain aside and looked through the door. Hank really did look like death warmed over. His skin hung on his jowls, his eyes red and sunken. There was no sign of his car or his girlfriend.

“Let me in, Char.”

“You’re drunk,” she said through the door. “Go home.”

“No, I’m sick. That damn dog gave me rabies or something. Let me in.”

“I’m not letting you in. I’ll call Wendy for you, or I’ll call the cops, or you can leave.”

He started to pound again when he gasped in pain and fell down the steps, clutching his head. “Oh, JEEZUS!”

She opened the door and started down the stoop, stopping when he snarled at her. The weak porch light couldn’t compete with the glare from the bright, full moon. Hank’s face stretched, elongated, his brow shrinking and skin growing hairy. What she saw registered in her eyes, but her mind skittered, looking for any sort of a rational explanation to convince herself it wasn’t happening.

Hank grunted in pain as he writhed on the ground. Before she lost her nerve, she grabbed an old leash clipped to a choke chain collar from a hook next to the door and slipped it over his head.

Within five minutes, she had a large, pudgy, snarling, black and grey mutt at the end of the leash, twisting and turning, trying to bite her. Holding the leash taught with her arm outstretched as far as she could, she managed to drag the ugly beast into her guest bathroom and lock it in.

What now?

She gathered Hank’s clothes from where they’d fallen in the front yard and jammed them into the bottom of her kitchen garbage can. She panicked and thought about calling the cops. Her finger hovered over the buttons.

What would she say?

Yes, Officer? My asshole ex-husband just turned into a dog, and I’ve got him locked in my bathroom.

She hung up.

The dog sounded like it was trying to dig through the bathroom door, snarling and growling. She thought about the leash, left over from her old dog Ben, a sweet dog she lost to old age when he was fourteen. He’d only been dead a few weeks and she hadn’t had the heart to get rid of the leash yet.

She thought about the Tarot card showing the hypodermic needle.

Dr. Swanson.

A small-town vet, his assistant answered his after-hours emergency number.

“Yes, I’ve got this strange dog locked in my bathroom. I think it’s got rabies, it’s trying to attack me.”

“Let me have your address…”

Dr. Thomas Swanson—“Call me Tom,” he said with a devastatingly handsome smile—arrived twenty minutes later, dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt that revealed his firmly muscled torso.

“What happened?” He cracked the bathroom door open and peeked in. The dog scrabbled to get out, snarling and vicious. Tom sadly shook his head and pulled the door closed.

“Well, I haven’t seen it around before. I think it’s the same one that bit my ex-husband last night. It ran in the door when I came in. I grabbed the leash and managed to corral it and drag it into the bathroom, and then I called you.” Tom had gorgeous blue eyes and no wedding ring.

“It didn’t bite you, did it?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Did you touch it?”

“Not really, just sort of dropped the collar around his neck.” As a mutt, Hank was much smaller than Ben had been.

“I’ll be right back.”

He went out to his truck, a midnight blue Ford, and came back with a catch-pole, two pairs of latex gloves, and what looked like a yellow tackle box.

And a large, heavy-duty, black plastic bag.

Inside the tackle box there were no fishing lures. It held a half-dozen new syringes in sterile packaging, several packs of alcohol swabs, and three small vials of clear, pink medicine.

And a log book.

He managed a grim smile as he drew medicine into one of the syringes. Charlene sensed what it was but didn’t want to ask.

He volunteered the information as he noted the date, time, dosage, and medicine in the log book. “Beuthanasia-D. Regulations. When I use this stuff, I have to keep track of it.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. He tried a smile again, and it looked kind despite the backdrop of snarling dog.

“He won’t feel a thing,” Tom assured her.

“What happens?”

“I have to send the body to the state lab. I’m sure your ex will be relieved to find out the results before he has to take a round of rabies shots.”

Surehe would.

Uh-huh.

“I’ll need your help though.”

She nodded, trying not to say anything. This was wrong on so many levels. What if he changed back in her bathroom?

That didn’t really happen though, did it? That wasn’t Hank in there, was it? She must have imagined it somehow.

That’s it. She latched on to that and held on for dear life.

Tom handed her a pair of gloves and prepped the syringe and a couple of alcohol swabs. “I’ll get the catch pole on him. Once I do, I’ll hand it to you. Keep him pinned to the floor, okay? You won’t have to touch him.”

She nodded. “Thank you for coming out here like this.”

He smiled again. It looked genuine, kind. “No problem. Your son didn’t come in contact with it, did he?”

She shook her head. “No. He’s asleep.”

“Okay.” He glanced up the stairs, then to the floor. “Look, this sounds really stupid I know, under the circumstances, but are you doing anything tomorrow night?”

She shook her head. “No. Why?”

“Would you mind if I took you—and your son, of course—out to dinner?”

The dog slammed against the bathroom door, startling both of them with its ferocity, but she frantically nodded. “Yes! I’d love to!”

He smiled again, relieved. “Oh, good. I wanted to ask you before, but it just didn’t seem right to do it when you were at my office. I’ve been meaning to call you to see how you were doing.” She felt touched he’d remembered Ben.

She reached out, touched his arm. “Thank you, Tom.” She managed a tentative smile. He was about her age, and he was really handsome. “I appreciate it.”

He smiled, nodded. “Put the gloves on. Once he’s secure, just hold the pole against the floor to pin him down, I’ll do the rest. It’ll be over quick.”

She nodded.

He pulled on gloves, waited until she had hers. He prepped the catch pole and opened the door a crack, slid it in, snagged the dog’s head.

The dog started snarling and thrashing. Tom pushed through the doorway, pulling the noose tight and flipping the dog over, pinning it.

“Okay, now!”

She took the pole from him and held the dog steady.

Sorry, Hank, she thought.

The vet took the swabs and quickly slid the needle home into the dog’s right front leg.

The dog’s thrashing slowed almost immediately, then stopped. His labored breathing lasted seconds before he lay still.

Tom took the catch pole from her, waited a few minutes, then carefully slid the collar and leash off it before putting the body in the bag.

It was still a dog.

“Do you want me to help you bleach the bathroom?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s okay. You’ve done enough. How much do I owe you?”

He shook his head. “No charge. Dinner tomorrow, right? My treat.”

“Yes.”

“Can I pick you up, or would you feel better meeting me?”

She considered it. “You can pick us up.”

His smile broadened as he tied a secure knot in the bag. “Is six okay or is that too early?”

“Six is fine.”

He gathered up the rest of his things and she walked him out to his truck. Before he left she touched his arm one more time.

“Tom, thank you, really. I was so scared.”

Truth.

He took her hand and gently squeezed it. “It’s okay. I’m sure it’s probably not rabid, just a feral dog from the looks of it. Maybe a runaway from a dogfighting ring or something. I’m glad it didn’t hurt the two of you. I’ll ship it to the state lab and let you know what they find. We should have the results before Friday.”

They said good night and she stepped back and watched him drive off.

She called Dana and asked her to come over to watch Chris.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I need to run to the store.”

“What do you need? I’ll get it and bring it.”

“No! I—please?”

Dana hesitated, but agreed. “I’ll be there in ten.”

Before she arrived, Charlene emptied the garbage can with Hank’s clothes in it, put in a fresh bag, and locked the other bag in her trunk.

She could toss it out in the Dumpster behind the gas station down the road from her house.

Dana immediately saw the mess in the bathroom. “Jesus, Charlene, what happened?”

How to answer? The truth.

Sort of.“A crazy dog got in here and tried to attack me. I locked it in the bathroom and called the vet.”

“Tom Swanson?”

She nodded.

“He’s a hottie!”

She nodded again. “He asked to take Chris and me out to dinner tomorrow night.”

“You said yes, right?”

“Duh.”

“It wasn’t the same dog that bit Hank, was it?”

“No, this was a black and grey dog.”

“Oh. Okay.”

* * * *

Charlene stopped by the Dumpster, disposed of the bag, then drove to the fairgrounds and found the carnival deserted. They were breaking down in preparation for their move, and she found the tent gone but the trailer still there.

The woman opened the door when she knocked.

“Yes, child?”

Charlene thought how to ask, couldn’t.

The woman smiled. “It’s okay. Sometimes, we bring about our own fortunes, do we not? And so do others.”

Charlene nodded as she shook her hand. “Thank you!”

She nodded, and behind her she saw the man, who simply smiled and tipped his head to her.

Charlene returned his smile and nodded. Then she drove home.

* * * *

Hank disappeared. Charlene convinced herself he simply ran off. It didn’t matter, because Dr. Tom was, as Dana said, a hottie, and he had the hots for her.

Oh yeah—the dog didn’t have rabies.

The End

About the Author

Tymber Dalton is the author of over twenty books, including bestsellers such as The Reluctant Dom, Love Slave for Two, the Triple Trouble series, and others.

She loves to hear from readers and you can visit her website at:

http://tymberdalton.com

http://twitter.com/madmumbler

Copyright © 2009, Tymber Dalton ~ Unauthorized Duplication Prohibited
Captiva Press/Placida Publishing, LLC (http://www.captivapress.com)