Chapter Five

Alice lifted the golden retriever into her arms, noting with dismay how little he weighed and how bad he smelled. He winced when her hand touched his shoulder, too, so there was probably an injury there. Thankfully she’d changed into old jeans and a sweatshirt before going back out to her van to retrieve the various bags and boxes she’d brought home with her. That’s when she’d seen the poor dog shivering in the chill night air next to one of her azalea bushes.

She carried him into her home and then through the corridor to the building behind her house. The shelter was a haven of warmth and soft lighting, and soothing classical music played at a low volume night and day.

She gently lifted him into a crate in the special needs room, next to the bathing station, and laid him down on a soft blanket, murmuring to him all the time, and then closed the door and fastened it. He watched her carefully with a wary intelligence in his eyes but made no move to escape or protest, only curling up in what looked like total exhaustion.

“I’ll bring you some food and water in just a moment, sweet boy,” she crooned, and his ears perked up as he watched her, almost as if he understood.

Since she knew nothing at this stage about his health except there was no blood from any wounds and she’d seen no fleas, she decided to feed him before anything else. She filled a bowl with a light supper of her special homemade creation of ground turkey, rice, and vegetables, guaranteed to be easy on a dog’s stomach, and put that and a bowl of fresh water in the crate with him. His eyes fixed instantly on the food, and he made a quiet moaning sound, but he made no move to lunge for the bowl. He waited politely for her to put the dishes down, pet the top of his head, and then refasten the crate before he reached out with one paw, pulled the food bowl close, and began to eat.

“Good job, sweetheart,” she told him. “You eat that and keep it down, and we’ll try a second helping, okay?”

Again, his ears perked up and he looked up at her. Then he bobbed his head in what she would have been prepared to swear in court was a nod before returning to his food.

“You are definitely not a stray. You’ve had training, for sure,” she murmured. “I wonder…”

She took a deep breath and opened up to what she thought of as her second, more valuable, gift. With the same senses that allowed her to recognize and communicate with ghosts on an almost-telepathic level, she could connect with animals. Not in words, precisely, but through an emotional connection. She had never been quite sure how to label it, but the fact was that she could reassure and rehabilitate animals who had suffered trauma…even those that the rest of the world was prepared to give up on.

She knew she needed to get to work tending to everyone else—they were loudly making their demands known—but she couldn’t resist trying.

Hey, sweet boy. You’re going to be safe now. I don’t know what happened to you, but we’ll find out if you’re okay at the vet and if you have a microchip, and we’ll get you back home if you’re just lost, okay?

When she projected the emotions associated with the word “home,” the dog stopped eating, dropped into a crouch, flattened his ears against his head, and stared up at her. Sudden waves of terror lashed out from him so powerfully that they made her recoil, and he lifted his lips away from his teeth, baring unusually long canines. A low growl spilled out of his throat, but it was definitely fear, not aggression, causing it. She knew that as well as she knew her own name.

“Okay, okay. No home. We won’t take you anywhere. You will stay here, and you will be safe. Do you hear me?”

The growling stopped, but he still crouched in a fight-or-flight pose, the waves of fear receding but still there.

I promise you. You will be safe. I will protect you and care for you. Do you understand?

The dog suddenly wiggled his body like he was shaking off water. Then he returned to his food as if okay now that the crisis had passed.

Alice felt a sharp stab of pure rage that anyone had treated this sweet boy so badly as to cause that kind of bone-deep fear. But then she closed her eyes, took a deep, centering breath, and returned to calm. Animals were extremely sensitive to variations in mood. If she went out to the main room in this state of agitation, she’d have a growling, hissing, snarling riot on her hands.

When she was calm again, she walked out to the large space at the heart of her shelter. “Hello, my darlings. I’m home. How is everyone tonight?”

The shelter was at capacity with twenty—now twenty-one, with the new addition—cats and dogs, four guinea pigs, two rabbits, and a ferret. And Marigold. Alice walked up and down the rows, giving a bit of attention to each, projecting waves of peace, and looking for signs of distress. Then she started in on feeding, giving them a late second dinner, carefully modulating food choices depending on their needs. Some, like Petunia the pug, were so emaciated from being loose in the wild, probably abandoned, that they had to be carefully fed with special foods and nutrients to avoid the sickness and regurgitation of refeeding syndrome.

Others, like Cleopatra the Persian cat, had specific needs that depended on the illnesses or injuries they were recovering from. Cleopatra’s fur was only now beginning to grow back after the house fire she’d been caught in had burned her so badly she’d nearly died. Her family, financially devastated by the fire and their lack of insurance, had moved up north to live with a relative who was desperately allergic to cats, so they’d believed they’d had no choice but to let her go. The veterinarian who’d taken Cleo in had called Alice as soon as the situation became clear. Dr. Geary had donated her time, but Little Darlings needed to pick up the cost of the medicines and other expenses Cleo had incurred during her stay at the hospital.

Alice winced at the thought. She’d need to find a way to raise more money soon; a rescue group couldn’t succeed without the help of kind and generous people who donated money, time, and supplies. Some people at the event that evening had promised donations, which would help. She did her best with what she had and didn’t take any salary at all, but her roof needed repair, and food and medicines for the animals were always a priority.

The animals under her care had all been through difficult times. The rescue community knew her place as a special resource for damaged or severely injured or traumatized pets, and they sent her their most fragile. Cats, dogs, the very occasional wild animal, like Marigold—there were wildlife rescue organizations that were far more able to provide the special care that such animals needed, but those who’d been kept as pets, like Marigold, had somewhat different requirements.

Hamsters, guinea pigs. She’d even taken in her first ferret, just the day before.

All of them wanted and needed love and attention—even those who were too afraid to realize it. Even those who claimed they needed nobody. Alice didn’t even try to pretend that she didn’t include herself in that number. She’d been fiercely alone for so long, but what wouldn’t she give for the chance at a real connection?

The answers came too quickly: her freedom. Her safety. Her life. Those were all things that she wouldn’t give up for a temporary fling that would probably go bad. Except…Hunter’s face popped into her mind again.

Those moments she’d been in his arms…she’d suddenly realized why people fell into bad relationships. There were times when soul-deadening loneliness smashed into intense attraction, and even she, who had to protect herself at all times, had felt the sweet, deceptive urge to succumb. To turn her face up to Hunter’s and ask him to kiss her.

Or, even better, for her to kiss him.

She laughed at how utterly fearless she was in the safety of her own mind and opened the crate to another wounded being who liked to pretend he needed no one. Ajax the German shepherd mix. She fed him and sat cross-legged on the floor of his kennel to give him the ear scratching he loved. He pretended to be aloof, sitting regally with his head held high, facing slightly away from her, until she paused in the ear scratches. Then he glanced at her and scooted closer until he was practically in her lap. Ajax had been rescued from a dog-fight ring, and his scars proved that he’d been through some very hard times. He’d been with her for four months, and it had taken her every bit of the first three to get him to trust her. Now he was finally receptive to attention and beginning to believe he wouldn’t be put back in danger at any second. His second-favorite activity of the day, close behind runs in her fenced-in yard, was listening to the schoolkid volunteers when they came to read stories to the animals.

He was still a volatile combination of wariness and a poignant need for attention, and she suddenly realized that she’d sensed the same cocktail of emotions in Hunter Evans.

“Not that I should be thinking about him. Again. Luckily, I’m sure I’ll never see him again. Okay, sweet boy, eat your dinner.”

She gave him a few final pats and then moved on to finish her rounds. She should have asked Veronica to stay later, but she’d had no idea the Small Business Association dinner would run so late. But the members had wanted to ask lots of questions after her talk, and she couldn’t afford to cut any potential future sponsor or donor short. And she’d walked away with three firm commitments of support, so it had been a good night.

A great night.

And then…well. And then she’d encountered Hunter. Twice.

She was washing her hands when she realized she’d completed her work on autopilot, thinking of her mysterious guest all the while. Those glowing eyes—it had been almost enough to make her believe in his talk of vampires. After all, she did live in Savannah, city of a thousand ghosts.

She knew lots of people didn’t believe in ghosts, either. And yet, she knew they existed. Who was she to say that other supernatural creatures didn’t?

She laughed and hung up the towel she’d used. “Sure, and next it will be leprechauns and mermaids. I really need to get a life.”

The golden retriever had cleaned his bowl but wasn’t waiting for more food. He’d curled up in the back corner of the crate, wrapped the blanket around himself, and now slept the sleep of the truly exhausted. Every few seconds, he twitched or whimpered slightly, but he hadn’t seemed to be injured or in pain during her brief examination. Just suffering from malnutrition, extreme fatigue, and fear.

“Sleep well, lovely boy,” she murmured. “And if you don’t have a name, well, we’ll figure one out for you then. You look like a…Rodeo? Cranberry? No, not those. Maybe a Bob? Sam? Hmmm…”

A huge yawn escaped, cracking her jaw open, and she realized she was too tired to stand around thinking of names. Or thinking about lovely men with delusions of vampirehood, no matter how sexy they were.

She finished her nighttime routines, locking up, cleaning up, and then double-checking crates, before heading for bed. She’d adopted out Perseus, the large tabby cat who’d most recently shared her home, so she was temporarily alone in her bedroom. Probably she’d let Ajax have the run of the house with her beginning tomorrow; he could use the socialization. But tonight, she washed up, brushed her teeth, and fell into bed, mentally beginning the many lists of all the tasks she needed to accomplish the next day. The work of running an animal rescue never ended, but the rewards were there every time she found a new family for one of her precious charges.

Even if, at times, she was so very lonely.

She’d probably never see him again, she reminded herself, not quite understanding the vague wave of sadness that trailed in the wake of that thought. She didn’t need that kind of distraction in her life, anyway.

But he’d smelled so good…

She wrapped her comforter around herself, flashing back to the feel of Hunter’s arms, and fell asleep remembering the scent of his skin.

…

When she woke in the middle of the night from a confusing dream of dragons and beautiful men with glowing blue eyes, the golden retriever was curled up on the foot of her bed, fast asleep.

Which was impossible.

She sat up in bed and stared at him. “How did you get out of your crate?”

The dog opened one eye and glanced up at her, his body hunching into a ball, as if he expected a blow.

“No, no, honey. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you,” she soothed. “I’m just wondering how you unfastened the door to your crate and opened the two locked doors between my home and the shelter.”

Impossible. Unless…unless she’d had a break-in. If somebody had picked the locks and opened the doors, it was entirely possible that the dog would have run for the only source of safety he recognized. But wouldn’t he have been more excited? Barked or growled? She would have woken up at the sound. She was a light sleeper.

Instead, he’d been stealthy. She needed to get up, though, and check it out.

Or call 911?

No, she couldn’t waste police time if the only real crime here was that she’d been too tired or too distracted by thoughts of her gorgeous and mysterious visitor to remember to lock the doors. The door handles had old-fashioned latches; easy enough for a clever dog to open.

That must be it.

Still. She needed to check.

She swung her legs out from under the covers and glanced ruefully down at her My Best Friend is a Dog pajamas—not necessarily the best for scaring off burglars—and tucked her feet into her slippers. Then she stood and grabbed the softball bat she kept propped up against the side of her dresser, took a deep breath, and raised her voice.

“I’m calling the police right now, so if you’re in my house, you should run away!”

The dog stretched, winced, and then climbed slowly off the bed and followed her into the hallway. She’d have to check him thoroughly later to see what the wince was about; maybe she could do something for that shoulder until the trip to the vet.

She imagined she heard a thud, and her mind flipped from worrying about the dog to worrying about who was in her house.

“I called the cops! They’re on the way! You should run now!”

No sound of feet running out the front door met her shout, but then again, neither did the sound of feet running toward her.

She edged down the hall, trying to look in all directions at once, even at the ceiling, which didn’t make any damn sense, but then again, she’d been having a conversation with a man who thought he was a vampire. Stranger things had probably happened in Savannah.

Step by heart-pounding step, she cleared the upstairs, and then, after yet again talking herself out of calling the police for real, she started down the steps.

“I really mean it! Sirens, cops, jail! Ugly orange jumpsuits. I mean, who looks good in that?”

Nothing.

Feeling like she might hyperventilate any moment, she checked out the downstairs. Nobody was in the kitchen, the family room, the downstairs bathroom, or the formal dining room she’d turned into a library.

The basement.

Great. All the scariest things in horror movies happened in basements.

But, no, the door off the hallway was still locked and bolted from her side.

“So I have a thing about creepy basements, sue me,” she muttered to the dog, who was still following close behind. “Stop judging me.”

When she looked down at him, he was grinning that wonderful golden-retriever smile, tongue slightly out, like he thought she was funny. Which, to a dog, she probably was. He was likely hoping she’d let him play fetch with the bat.

Finally sure her house was clear of thieves, murderers, or men who believed they were vampires, she strode over to the door that led to the covered walkway between her house and the shelter.

Closed but unlocked.

“I could have sworn I locked that door when I came in,” she said, feeling her face scrunch up in confusion. She always locked doors at night.

Always.

She’d had bad dreams for years about somebody from the Institute hunting her down to carry her back to that hell, and she was only now finally free of the nightmares.

Please, let this not bring those back.

She stepped out into the walkway and crossed to the shelter, and, sure enough, that door was unlocked, too.

She shook her head. She must have been more exhausted than she’d realized. She started to pull the door closed, hoping not to wake any of the animals, and the office phone rang. Clearly, she hadn’t turned off the ringer for the night, either.

She rushed into the office, hoping to catch the phone before her old-fashioned answering machine kicked on. She really needed to get voicemail, but it cost money, and she’d found the old answering machine in the house when she bought it. Every penny saved was more money toward food and medicine, so…she had an answering machine.

“You’ve reached Little Darlings Animal Rescue. Please leave a message,” her own voice sang out at her.

Beep.

“This is Meara Delacourt. I plan to donate one hundred thousand dollars to your rescue organization tomorrow, with possibly more to come after I see what you’re doing. I’ll be at your place at six p.m.”

Click.

Alice stumbled across the room and dropped into a chair.

Meara Delacourt?

The Meara Delacourt?

Alice might be new to Savannah, but even she had heard of the famous socialite-philanthropist who funded the clinic named after her family.

But how had Meara heard of Alice?

The dog put his head in her lap, and she absently fondled his ears while she tried to come to grips with the idea that a famous philanthropist was giving her a small fortune, completely out of the blue.

“What a day! First I found three new sponsors, then I met a ghost who turned into a vampire, and now I’m getting a hundred grand from Meara Delacourt. Maybe I should have bought lottery tickets.” She shook her head, feeling dazed, and glanced down at her newest charge. “What do you think, sweet boy? That much money covers a lot of dog food and vet bills.”

The dog leaned heavily against her knees and let out a soft snore and—for just a fraction of a second—she thought she saw a puff of smoke come out of his nostrils.

“And now I’m hallucinating—”

A loud chattering noise startled her out of her daydreams of hiring another employee or maybe even expanding the shelter, and a pair of bright eyes peered down at her from the top of the office bookcase.

Ferret Bueller was out of his cage again.

Alice started laughing. Now life was back to normal.