was wandering the halls. After the intruder incident, the security guards were extra-jumpy. If the dog wasn’t theirs, they’d probably shoot it on sight. That thought wasn’t bearable. She had to be sure the animal was okay.
Chloe quietly thumped her head on the edge of the door. This so wasn’t her night.
Silently, not quite sure if she was being bold or stupid, Chloe crept into the hallway and glided for the staircase landing. She flicked on the light switch, the glow from the row of overhead chandeliers banishing the shadows. She looked down the hall, lit by a pool of light every few yards all the way to the end of the corridor. No one—with two or four feet—was in sight.
In the cold, clear sixty-watt light, Chloe felt tired and a bit ridiculous. She had to be hearing things. Surely, after the attack earlier that night, security had been drawn too tight for a mouse to get through, let alone something big enough to pant like that.
But the guy who jumped you got in. She’d forced the event away from her imagination. Just a tiny bit. Just enough to function. But now the feel of her attacker’s hands forcing her into the mattress flooded back to her, and she shuddered violently.
Suddenly, the noise she’d heard seemed far more sinister.
“Sam!” This time she said it with a lot more force. “Sam?”
Silence.
She took a few steps down the hall where she thought she’d heard the clicking toenails. Then she saw it: a gray tail disappearing around the corner. So there is a dog! Pulling her robe closer, she hurried after it. It was headed toward one of the big third-floor bathrooms. The good news was, if she managed to herd the dog in there, it should be easy to shut the door and call someone to deal with it.
The bad news was she had left the relative safety of her bedroom behind. Bad guys used animals to lure softhearted victims to their doom.
Shivering, she broke into a trot, wanting to get this over with. She was nearly to the spot where she’d seen the tail disappear. The long terry robe tangled around her ankles, making her stumble. Yelping, she caught herself.
An instant later, a huge, gray head poked out from around the corner. Chloe’s brain froze for a microsecond, her face going slack with astonishment. A wolf?
But there it was, that creature staring at her with huge yellow eyes, red tongue lolling out from between sharp white teeth. Not a nice dog, but a gigantic, wild thing. She screamed for all she was worth. But there was hardly anyone left at Oakwood, and no one sleeping on her side of the building.
There was just her and the great yellow-eyed creature, stuck in a staring contest. The wolf looked more wary than ferocious, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off it. The moment went on and on, a stalemate neither was willing to break. Finally, desperate to make the thing back off, she kicked off her mule slipper and slowly, slowly, bent down and picked it up. The wolf watched curiously, but didn’t budge. Chloe threw it, but her aim was bad. It bounced off the wall, ricocheting in front of the wolf’s nose.
That startled the creature into skittering backward, giving her time to dive for the safety of the first open door. It was the bathroom. She barely reached it before the wolf was already behind her, filling the door frame and blocking any hope of retreat.
Ironic, when her first thought was to trap the wandering dog in the very same room. Now the tables were turned. She scrabbled on the counter for something, anything to defend herself and came up with an aerosol can. She wheeled around, holding it in both hands. “Back off!” she warned. Her tone was clear, even if it wouldn’t understand the words.
The wolf didn’t come any closer, but it didn’t budge. She glanced at the can’s label. It was that ghastly hairspray Aunt Mavis used, the kind that could hold a hairdo through a category three hurricane. She’d heard of women using the stuff like Mace. She aimed the nozzle at the wolf.
“Don’t come any closer, or I’ll shoot.”
It was hard to tell, but the beast looked confused. It tilted its head, ears swiveling in her direction.
“Back off!” she snapped again, waving the can in hopes the wolf would get the message.
By this point, her nerves were brittle enough to shatter. She’d nearly been killed once already tonight! Where were all the security guards who were supposed to rush in and save her? Her relatives? She heard conversation, doors shutting, but no one was storming to her rescue. Where was Sam? He’d promised to guard her, but the moment she’d needed him he had vanished.
The wolf sat down, effectively trapping her. Hot, sweaty panic welled up, leaving her sick and shaking. She was in trouble, but no one was here to help her. Claustrophobia squeezed her chest. She had to get out of this bathroom!
“Go away,” she shouted.
The wolf barked, making her jump so hard her feet actually left the floor. Reflexively, she squeezed the nozzle of the can, releasing a hissing cloud of perfumed spray. The wolf staggered backward into the corridor with a ragged whine. The chemical reek of the spray clogged Chloe’s throat. She covered her nose with her terry-towel sleeve and blinked hard, but for a blessed moment the doorway was clear.
Instinct kicked in. Chloe bolted for freedom, her bare feet hardly touching the floor.
Then she saw security guards ahead, running toward her and raising their guns at the wolf. A few of the other guests were peering around corners, too frightened to come to her aid.
“Don’t fire!” she yelped, afraid for herself, the bystanders and the wolf. She glanced behind her.
Like a shaggy nightmare, the creature bounded after her, claws scraping and red tongue lolling. Chloe scrambled, running into the door frame in her haste to retreat. Her feet slithered on the hardwood as she tried to turn and shut the door.
The wolf attempted to stop, all four legs going straight. Its nails skidded on the hardwood floor.
Unsuccessfully. Golden eyes going wide with alarm, it bashed into her, the full weight of it colliding with her legs. Her feet flew out from under her and they both went down in a tangle of fur and terry cloth.
The wolf made a pathetic whimper. Chloe sucked in a shallow breath, terrified that if she moved, if she attracted its attention, it would bite. The stink of hairspray pervaded the air, making her want to sneeze. She froze, fighting the fierce tickling in her nose and throat. A sneeze might startle it.
It was a heavy beast, especially draped over her legs. The thick, coarse fur tickled and was disgustingly sticky with spray. Gingerly, she lifted her head a degree, peering down at it. The thing drooped its ears, giving her a wounded look with its great yellow eyes. Its ruff stuck up at odd angles, as if it was going for a fauxhawk.
“Where did you come from, anyway?” she murmured, forgetting herself.
It whined again, resting its chin on her knee, and gave a tentative tail wag. Apparently, it wasn’t going to eat her. Maybe it had eaten someone already. Maybe Aunt Mavis.
At that thought, Chloe experienced a moment of mixed emotions.
Now the security guys were crowding around. Sam burst through them, SIG Sauer drawn and searching out the enemy. When he saw Chloe, he lowered the gun, his gray eyes giving her a look that melted her where she lay. She immediately forgave him for being late.
“You
