Blinded by rain, McKenna followed the fox across Water Street, past the wharf, to the stilted house once occupied by Old Ada Phillips and dozens—maybe hundreds—of mice and rats. The beam of Miss Gustie’s flashlight illuminated the entrance where the door was banging in the wind. Amazingly, through this doorway, down the ramp, out every window, small animals with wild eyes ran, jumped, hopped, and tumbled.
McKenna wiped her wet hair out of her face. “What the heck is going on?”
The fox darted into the grisly house.
McKenna crossed the threshold, steps behind the fox, only to be assaulted by a putrid stench. The house was swaying as the waves surged beneath the floorboards.
“Hurry, Fox!” she shouted. “Find Pup! We’ve got to find him!”
Lightning crackled. Glass shattered.
“Pup! Pup! Are you in here?” McKenna beamed the flashlight around the ghoulish room. “Pup! Pup! You’re in here. I know you are!”
Outside, a huge wave slammed against the Pitiful Place and splashed into the room. McKenna fell against a stack of cages, which toppled on others that had already fallen.
“Bark! Pup, do something! I can’t see you!” she screamed as she struggled to right herself.
“Yip-yip-yap-eee! Yip-yip-yap-eee!”
McKenna steadied the beam until the light found the yelping fox’s silvery tail. More waves surged below the boards where McKenna stood. Somewhere above her, timbers cracked as the structure lurched. “Fox, hurry! This place is going down!”
Finally, a high-pitched wail rose above the crashing, smashing, sliding sounds all around her. Near the fireplace, on top of an armchair that had tipped on its side, the fox screamed feverishly.
“Did you find him? Did you find him?”
Thunder rumbled like a fast-approaching train. Balancing herself with outstretched arms, McKenna moved toward the fireplace, crushing the trash in her path. Seawater streamed across the tips of her boots.
The fox jumped off the tipped chair. The wailing continued. McKenna tried to drag the chair away from the fireplace, then lunged forward and draped her body over its broad arm. She shined the light into the hearth.
There, huddled in the corner, were Miss Gustie’s little dog, Pup, and the three-legged cat, just out of her reach. They were trembling, their faces stricken with terror. McKenna stretched her arm until her fingers could almost touch Pup, who stared at her with wide, pleading eyes.
“Come here, Pup. Easy now,” McKenna coaxed, trying to still the quake in her voice. “You, too, cat.”
Again, the structure shifted. The animals slid in her direction. McKenna dropped the flashlight to free her other hand.
She groped wildly, feeling for fur. She needed two legs: one dog’s and one cat’s. She grabbed, hoping for the best.
When each of her hands had gripped a limb, she took a deep breath, and with a grunt, pulled and straightened her back. She drew the animals—there were two!—close. The cat hissed and spit, but Pup’s body was limp.
The swift-running water was now ankle-deep, while a whooshing sound rose out of the sea, a deafening, dangerous moan.
Where was the door? She turned one way, stopped, and then spun around in the opposite direction. Finally—it seemed like forever—she spotted the fox’s glowing eyes, beckoning her forward.
McKenna stumbled toward the fox, followed him out the door, down the slippery, water-sodden ramp just as the Pitiful Place broke free. Standing back from the rocky shore, McKenna watched in awe as unrelenting, angry waves pounded the structure until it collapsed into the sea.
Now there was loud shouting. A number of shadowy figures, some carrying lanterns, were running down Main Street.
McKenna wanted no part in explaining anything to anybody. Clutching the animals, she took off, back to her shed. At the doorstep, winded and dripping with cold sweat, she lowered the three-legged cat to the ground. She unlocked the door and dove into Enchanted Candles.
McKenna spilled Pup onto the floor. She held the door open, giving the frightened cat a moment to decide whether he was coming in, or staying out. A few feet away, the fox watched as the black-and-white cat slunk into the shed, and then slipped away. McKenna pulled the door shut.
She felt her way to a shelf, searching for a glass jar that held books of dry matches. She struck a match and moved to the bench where a row of enchanted candles were waiting to be named. Fingers shaking, she lit one.
McKenna dropped to the floor, exhausted. She’d pull herself together, she decided, and take a few minutes to catch her breath. Then she’d head over to Miss Gustie’s. McKenna closed her eyes, already beginning to doubt whether what had just happened was real.
The sopping-wet dog climbed over her left side and curled himself into the curve of her body. The three-legged cat crouched in the corner and yowled.
Pup nuzzled his wet snout against McKenna’s chest. Suddenly, she heard something small, like a coin, drop to the floor. Pup wiggled out of her arms.
McKenna took the burning candle from the bench and held it close to Pup. The enchanted candle’s flame illuminated a small, silver heart on the whitewashed floor. With cold, stiff fingers, McKenna picked up the charm. Holding it close to the flame, McKenna read the word printed on one side: TANGO.
Engraved on the other side were four tiny lines of print: a name, an address, and a telephone number. It was an identification tag, a silver identification tag for an animal named Tango.
With the little dog watching her every move, McKenna stripped off her boots, rolled up her jeans, and turned down the cuffs of her wet socks. She untied the strip of leather that tied the two ends of her silver ankle bracelet together and held the silver heart up to the small ring that hung on the last link.
The little dog nosed the charm and barked excitedly.
“Tango,” McKenna murmured incredulously. “Your name is Tango.”