Page 11 of The Vampire in the Potting Shed

Before I reached the end of the runs, I noticed the door was cracked and cursed under my breath.

Arm over arm, I wriggled faster until I could push the door open.

Unlike last time, it swung all the way, bumping against the far wall.

Because, I confirmed with the flashlight on my phone, the vampire was gone.

six

I waitedtwenty minutes at the rendezvous point for Sloane to return. I chewed my thumbnail ragged worrying Tai had caught her, maybe hurt her. And, though I wasn’t proud to admit it, I dreaded what she would tell him to explain leading him on a wild-goose chase through the neighborhood after verifying he was on solo guard duty...

Yeah.

The simple fact of how I was as afraid for myself as I was for her, when she had taken the biggest risks to help me, forced me to consider I might not only be friendless on principle.

Claws scrabbling on asphalt, heading my way, broke cold sweat down my spine.

Bracing to face Tai, expecting him to corner me and demand answers, I almost fell over when a light gray wolf skittered past me. Sloane gave a single huff, jerking her head, and I gathered her clothes and ran after her as she retraced my path through the neighbors’ yards until we reached mine.

Breathless from the jangling nerves more than the mild exertion, I had to swallow a laugh of triumph.

Sure, the vampire was MIA, but that was a good thing. What had I been thinking? I had been crazy to risk my neck forsomeone I didn’t know. We escaped undetected, though. I was calling it a win.

I let us in through the back door, Sloane’s claws tapping on the hardwood, and Myrtle cracked open a judgmental eye before falling back asleep in her nest of blankets.

“Huh.” I hadn’t clocked it before, but it hit me when she didn’t blink at the wolf. “She’s not afraid.”

Sloane rumbled agreement, padding closer to Myrtle, who ignored her in favor of beauty sleep.

Definitely not afraid, which meant Myrtle was probably owned by a shifter to act so blasé about one.

“Are you hungry?” I backed toward the kitchen. “Dad’s always ravenous after a run.”

That was under normal conditions, not a magically induced burnout.

Ears perking at the offer, Sloane trailed me into the bright yellow room.

“I have raw steak, of course, but also saganaki and dolmades I made yesterday.”

Wolves tended to prefer meat, the bloodier the better, so I wasn’t surprised when she opted for steak. As I retrieved the bundle wrapped in butcher’s paper, she nosed the fragrant container of saganaki.

“I dredge halloumi in flour then fry it up and top it with local honey and nuts.”

A low whine had me pulling it—and the dolmades—out too.

“You want to try some?” I chuckled at her exuberant nod. “The dolmades are rice, veggies, and a minced halibut with a lemon vinaigrette.” I watched drool slide along her jaw. “Here.” I tossed her the grape leaf-wrapped halibut. “What do you think?”

Sloane swallowed it whole then flopped onto the floor, sticking her legs up in the air like a dead bug.

“Tell me my cooking is to die for when you’re not about to pass out from exertion.”

The wolf rolled over as I set the plate with her dinner before her with a gooey saganaki on top.

While she gorged herself, saving the cheese for last, as was proper, I switched on the stove to reheat my leftovers. I checked on the food and water situation for Myrtle, unsurprised to find both bowls full.

A lot of pets struggled to eat or drink while separated from their people. Especially pets experiencing the stress of a new environment and new caregivers for the first time. Most of them snapped out of it in a day or two, but I would have to keep an eye on Myrtle. As far as I could tell, she seemed like an old pro at this. That or she was very chill by nature. Still. I didn’t want to risk her making herself sick.

“Do you want to crash here tonight?” I arranged my food in the hot sauté pan. “I have a spare…”

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