Page 14 of Truthfinder’s Promise
“Can I keep him?” Merlin asked. “Do you think the nice lady will let me?”
Oh, no. If an adorable kid asked Siren if he could keep his monster dog, she would absolutely move heaven and earth to make that happen. And since Meredith was the only one who could tell the dog wasn’t a dog, she needed to nip this in the bud.
“He’s really sick,” Meredith said. “He’s going to need constant care. I think it’s best if he comes with me and maybe when he’s better Siren will let you keep him.” The not-dog was never getting anywhere near Siren’s home for wayward orphans. Meredith was going to figure out what the hell it actually was.
“You’re going to keep him?” Valkyrie asked.
Meredith had never been terribly fond of anything that sprouted fur. Animals shed everywhere, they required daily attention, and they tended not to like her anyways.
“Why not? Maybe if I have a dog, you and Siren will finally stop trying to find me a husband.” She rested her hands on her knees and bent down, put on her most obnoxious baby voice, and dared the creature to not act like a dog. “What do you say wittle woofy-woof? You wanna come home with me?”
It gave another heart-rending whine and licked at her fingers, all sloppy and dog-like.
Eww, gross. Was that actually a dog tongue licking her? What if it was some alien-like tentacled thing? She carefully wiped her hand on her pants.
“Well, come on then,” she told it. “Let’s get you out of here.” The not-dog struggled to his feet, letting out soft whimpers of pain. It took two steps and fell over. No matter how convinced Meredith was that it was not a dog, that didn’t change the fact that whatever it was, it had been starved and beaten and locked in a dark room. For months.
“I can carry him.” Valkyrie started forward.
“No,” Meredith said quickly. Better if everyone thought she was already attached. Less likelihood of Siren deciding to add him to her growing family of furballs that way. “I’ve got him.”
Valkyrie did not question Meredith’s ability to carry the dog up a flight of stairs, and Meredith took that as a sign that the last two months of working out were finally starting to show. She leaned down, gently placed her hands under the creature’s belly, and whispered softly enough the words wouldn’t carry, “I don’t know what you are, but if you bite me I will smack the hell out of you.”
The not-dog licked her face. “Dear goddess, your breath is disgusting.” It smelled like something had crawled in between his teeth, died, rotted, and then sprouted mold.
She hefted him up, straightened, and clutched the not-dog to her chest. It looked and felt like a starved medium-sized dog. She could feel too many bones beneath the fur and flesh, and she was fearful that the wrong move might cause those bones to snap like twigs.
The not-dog relaxed, as if there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than in her arms. If that wasn’t weird as hell, she didn’t know what was.
