The Heart of Dog

Hair of the Dog
by Doranna Durgin

A Feral Darkness, the book that spawned this story, is just plain all about dog. Oh, it's got nasty dark powers and people who matter, but all the same…it's about dog. It's also the only book where I based a character (Druid the dog) on the combined nastures of two of my own. And as with most of my books, the story really doesn't quite end…and here's a peek at Brenna and Druid a year later.
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That was no accident.

Brenna whirled to watch the pet store's assistant manager retreat down the aisle, paperwork in hand. To judge by his casual stroll, he didn't have the slightest idea that he'd just brushed against her backside firmly enough to create the whisper of denim hissing across denim.

As if.

Brenna exchanged a glance with Druid, her companion at work and home. His expression held nothing more significant than a strong desire to make off with one of rawhide bones shelved at just the right height for a low-slung adolescent Cardigan Welsh Corgi. He licked his lips.

"That just about sums it up," Brenna muttered darkly.

When she'd offered to sub for her honeymooning pet groomer friend, she'd sensed something had been left unspoken. A hesitation in Elayna's expression, the almost invisible decision to not go there.

But Elayna surely would have warned Brenna if she'd known Aron Miller would find so many occasions to bump Brenna in so many personal ways. Maybe she thought Brenna would be safe; she was there as a favor to the small store's owner as much as to Elayna, providing experienced coverage for their customers. No grooming business could afford to disappoint customers at the beginning of the busy season. Word got around.

In truth, Brenna considered herself safe enough. After last year's supernatural encounters with the ancient god Nuadha on her old western New York farm, the behavior of mere mortals rarely bothered her anymore, not even those who thought of themselves as gods. After all, Nuadha wasn't the only force she'd encountered last spring. An ancient source of angry power...and one about which no one but her very significant other knew the truth.

No, Brenna wasn't worried about handling Aron Miller. No matter that he was a big man, and given to lifting weights. Or that he was actually as good-looking as he thought he was.

The worst kind.

Druid whined gently and cocked his head at the rawhides, huge ears perked to their utmost. "As soon as we finish here, we'll go back to the grooming room," she told him. "You've got a fresh chewie waiting there."

But Druid's attention shifted, his ears lowered...warning her. A glance confirmed it. The man was coming back.

If it weren't for Elayna, she would have quit the first time Miller ran a familiar hand down the long, thick length of her dark hair...and then all the way to the back jeans pocket in which she tucked the doubled braid. Only ten more days. Then she'd go back to supervising her own groomers in her own converted barn shop with her own Iban Masera running his dog training business beside her.

She thought of what Masera would do to Aron Miller if he caught the man touching Brenna and it put a smile on her face. Aron Miller took it as a welcome and hesitated as he reached her, his ever-present paperwork in hand. "Don't normally let employee dogs come in," he said, in case she hadn't previously caught his munificence in the matter.

"Part of the agreement to get me here," Brenna said calmly, ruing these rare moments of spare time during which she was required to sort merchandise, putting herself within Miller's reach. "Do you want me to pull the bones that don't seem to fit any of the shelf labels?"

"Leave 'em," he said, still eyeing Druid. "Put 'em in the front. With luck someone will buy them before we have to explain them in inventory. Funny-looking thing, isn't he?"

Druid, everything a young Cardigan could be. Crisp black and white markings with rich brown points and a smattering of freckles over his white muzzle and forelegs, thicker freckles charmingly crowded onto the backs of his ears. In body, short-legged and long-bodied, perfectly built for droving cattle over Welsh hills and ducking the kicks that might come his way. Funny-looking? Champion Nuadha's Silver Druid? Dryly, she said, "Luckily for me the judges didn't think so."

"Ah?" he said, meaning no kidding, it's a show dog?

"Ah," she confirmed.

She shouldn't have turned her back on him.

His touch was too personal, too definite. Brenna gave an exaggerated squeak of surprise and jerked around, making certain her elbow encountered the pit of his stomach on the way.

Impact. He doubled over, emitting noises like a dog with food on the way back up.

"Oh!" she said loudly. "Oh, I'm so sorry! You startled me!" Druid leaped to his feet, most interested in Aron's noises, white-tipped tail waving—but Brenna found herself suddenly facing a surge of anger so dark as to be startling. Made uncertain by her own feelings, she was entirely convincing when she asked, "Are you all right, Aron? Do you need to sit down?"

He straightened with effort, speaking through gritted teeth. "No, no, I'm fine. Just an accident. You barely touched me."

She knew otherwise, but she also knew her point had been made. "I'm sorry." Sorry you're such a jerk. "Sometimes I startle so easily—you just never know."

He smiled grimly at her. "Think nothing of it, Brenna. My mistake."

You better believe it.

But she should have known someone else would pay for it.