“They won’t.” Edge laughed, possibly for the first time in Terry’s presence, but without humor. “They’re good dogs.”
“Edge—”
“Go!” It came out more as a bark than a word.
And fuck it all, but Terry saw no other options short of bashing Edge unconscious and stuffing him into the car—a possibility he would have seriously considered if he thought he’d be successful. “They’ll come,” he promised quietly as he got into the driver’s seat. “Soon. Just stay safe a little longer. Please? We’ll come back for you.”
Edge slammed the door closed and stalked to the steps.
When Terry turned the key, the engine roared to life. He was thankful the radio was off—he was in no mood for music. He popped into gear and drove down the driveway, leaving Edge on the stairs.
Nobody stopped him.
He reached the gate and it slid smoothly open. Terry turned onto the road, stepped on the gas, and sped away.
Chapter Nine
Too often lately, Edge had agonized over the right course of action. This was not one of those times. Telling Terry to leave and refusing to join him had been absolutely the correct thing to do. He walked back to the main house with his head high.
Still, his mind whirled with the information Terry had shared. Edge believed every word, mostly because it made so much sense. Of course the boss was stealing souls. Edge hadn’t been able to comprehend why the clients changed after signing on, but now he did. He also understood why the boss did this. Money, yes, but especially power. The boss fed off it like… like a vampire feeds off blood.
Vampires. Vampires existed. Perhaps this shouldn’t have shocked a creature like Edge, but he’d always assumed that almost all of the world was comprised of ordinary people and conventional animals, and that he and his kind were a tiny minority of freaks. It was a comfort to know that other weird beings existed too—so many of them that an entire agency had been created to deal with them.
And Terry was an agent with that organization. That made sense too. Edge wished him well.
The one part of the story he couldn’t buy was Terry’s final promise to return and rescue him. Surely Terry had more important matters to worry about than one stupid mutt and his brothers. Besides, Edge and his litter mates were bred to serve a master. They weren’t meant to be free.
As if in to confirm Edge’s thoughts, the boss met him just outside the door to the main house. “That boy is wavering, Edge. Do you think he’ll be back?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Of course not, you idiot cur. Weren’t you a big enough draw for him last night?”
“I obeyed you, sir. I persuaded him to fuck me.” That was the closest Edge had ever come to lying to the boss, and it both elated him and tied his stomach in knots.
“Right. You shook your big ass for him and he took it. But did you make sure he really enjoyed?”
“I… I did everything he wanted.”
The boss shook his head slowly, as if disappointed. “This is Hollywood. We don’t give people what they want—wetellthem what to want. Make them roll over and beg for exactly what we want to give them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come inside, Edge.”
Shuddering, Edge obeyed.
This beating had been the worst yet. He wasn’t just bruised this time, but bleeding, and by the time the boss released him from the chains, Edge couldn’t even walk. But although the pain was terrible, somehow he hadn’t minded as much as usual. With every blow from the flogger and belt, every lash from the whip, Edge remembered that he had done the right thing today. He was good even if he was disobedient. And Terry seemed to view him as a person rather than as a monster or an animal. That knowledge warmed his heart even as his flesh burned in agony.
Several hours passed as Edge lay curled on the hard tile. He wished he had water to wet his dry throat and a blanket to ward off the chill. He dozed a bit, with hazy dreams of running and blood. Finally he gathered enough energy to shift and limped out of the house on four paws.
By then it was early evening, and the smells of newly cut grass and chlorine did not quite mask the aroma of grilled meat. He couldn’t tell whether the scent wafted from an open kitchen window or from a neighboring estate. It made his stomach rumble. He hadn’t eaten since dinner the previous night.
He considered curling up in his hiding space behind the bougainvillea, but then he wouldn’t get to eat. Besides, his cage would be warmer, the bed in there softer than the ground outside, and he wouldn’t have to worry about one of his brothers getting angry at him for sleeping outside the kennel.
Holt was in dog form, lying in the kennel and watching car racing on television. He got up when Edge entered, wandered over for a thorough sniff, and wagged his tail a few times in support. Holt was always more apt than Duke to provide scraps of consolation when Edge needed them, but Duke, who was on duty tonight, could be kind as well. Holt inclined his head toward the TV, inviting Edge to join him, but instead Edge made his way to his water bowl and drank it dry. Then he ate his dinner, a filling but uninspired mixture of meat, grains, and veggies that was their usual fare. He already missed the human food he’d shared with Terry.
Edge curled up in his cage and tried to sleep, but his mind was too busy. Now that he knew the Bureau existed and would, according to Terry, exact justice for Butch’s death, was there some safe way he and his remaining brothers could escape? Even the first step, convincing them, seemed insurmountable. Then another far darker notion materialized. What if… what if they bypassed the Bureau entirely and meted out their own justice? What if they killed the boss?