Page 4 of It All Started with a Bite

The man’s eyes snapped open, revealing pupils that looked unnaturally yellow in the light. Ellie screamed in surprise. Bo dove under the dining table.

Our guest sat up with surprising speed, grabbed my hand, and bit me.

“What the hell?!” I yanked my arm back, more shocked than hurt.

The man blinked at me owlishly. “Oh,” he said in a surprisingly refined voice. “You’re not a squirrel.” He giggled.

I did the only sensible thing I could think of.

I punched him in the face.

He collapsed back onto the sofa with a strangled gurgle, out cold once more.

“Oh my God!” Ellie’s hands flew to her mouth. “Did he just bite you?!” She rushed over, stumbling slightly.

I stared at my hand, my heart racing. Two neat puncture marks decorated my skin. They were already starting to bruise around the edges.

“Looks like it.”

“We should call an ambulance!” Ellie fumbled for her phone, dropped it, and almost face-planted trying to retrieve it.

“How about you sit down before you hurt yourself?”

“But he bit you!”

“And I punched him. I’d say we’re even.” A wave of dizziness washed over me, making the room tilt sideways. Either I was drunker than I thought or our guest had rabies. Possibly both.

Bo poked his head out from under the dining table and whined. He hesitated before rising and trotting over, making those odd huffing noises that sounded disturbingly like he was trying to talk to me.

“I know.” I ruffled his ears, trying to ignore my now-itchy hand. “This is definitely not how I planned to end my evening.”

Bo sniffed my wound and curled his lip like he’d just caught a whiff of week-old garbage mixed with essence of skunk. Coming from a dog who regularly tried to eat his own vomit, this wasn’t exactly reassuring.

The man on our sofa started snoring again.

“I really think we should get you to the ER,” Ellie said, her voice small. She looked anxiously from my hand to the unconscious man, guilt clouding her baby-blue eyes. “What if he has rabies?”

“He’s not a raccoon, Ellie.” I didn’t tell her that I’d had the rabies thought too.

“But—his face! And did you see his eyes?!”

I was too tired for this. My head was pounding and my hand felt like it was on fire. All I wanted was to crawl into bed and pretend this night never happened. Maybe I’d wake up tomorrow and discover this was all some tequila-induced nightmare.

“Look, it’s late, we’re both drunk, and I have that meeting with the auditors tomorrow.” I gestured at our comatose guest. “He’s not going anywhere.” I paused and glanced at my still-trembling dog. “And if he tries anything, Bo will probably hide under my bed, but at least he’ll bark really loud.”

Bo gave me a look that suggested he’d do no such thing. In fact, he seemed to be contemplating moving to another zip code altogether.

“What about your wound?” Ellie insisted.

I flexed my fingers. The bite marks were fading to a dull red, which seemed wrong somehow. “It barely broke the skin. I’ll put some antiseptic on it.”

Ellie didn’t look convinced. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” I wasn’t, but that was tomorrow-Abby’s problem.

I made sure Ellie was safely tucked in and had a bucket next to her bed before I retreated to my room. Bo gave the living area a wide berth and followed close on my heels, like he was afraid I’d leave him alone with our guest.

“Some guard dog you are,” I muttered as I changed into my pajamas.

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