Page 6 of Under Fyre

I’m doing mine.

Soon, Charlotte will be doing hers.

But that’s some way down the road.

She’s still a newborn puppy. She still has to learn about the world she’s been birthed into.

And what a strange and frightful place it is for someone as innocent and fragile as her.

I shove the notebook into the pocket of my trench coat. Arrow whines, and when I glance at her over my shoulder, she gestures with a raised paw.

“You’re being very demanding today,” I tell her. “Do you think you can get away with misbehaving because we have a guest?”

Her ears cock-up, her eyes widening a little. She disappeared from my side a short while ago. I left her, knowing she was creeping down the hall to investigate Charlotte’s room. She limped back into the living room a few minutes later, giving me a look of such pure innocence that I still gave her an afternoon treat.

I can’t help but spoil her.

Arrow has a dark and difficult past. Whenever I want to discipline her, the thought crosses my mind that she won’t know the difference between the abuse she suffered and my attempts at teaching her right from wrong.

Humans know the difference.

I prepare Charlotte’s tray, Arrow watching me. She loves choosing a spot right in the middle of the floor so I have to maneuver around her while I’m busy cooking.

“Guests eat first,” I tell her.

Arrow’s ears go flat for a second before she pricks them up again, her mouth opening so she can start panting.

She’s an old lady. Eight years in May. Fifty-six in dog years. Sometimes, when she watches me with her gaping mouth, her jowls drooping and her eyes slightly unfocused, I wonder how much longer she will be with me.

Those thoughts always put me in a black mood.

Thankfully, after all these years, I’ve figured out how to navigate the dark waters of my mind.

“You stay here,” I tell Arrow.

She stands, looking happy and expectant until I point to her bed with my eyes. Then she creeps into the corner, huffing as she plops down in her basket. Sulking, she doesn’t even bother to wag her tail.

“Grumpy puppy.”

As I pick up Charlotte’s tray, my eyes glance over the package I left on the kitchen table. A big, black shopping bag, a discrete logo on one side.

Excite

I stare at it for a second, and then force myself to look away.

Even thinking about what’s inside makes my pulse race. Which is why I didn’t dare make this purchase until Charlotte was under my roof.

I’m only human.

My black soul struggles greatly with temptation.

Chapter Five

Charlotte

Fyre returns as the sky becomes purple. When he walks through the door, my eyes go past him to the hallway, searching for his dog.

But he’s alone.

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