Page 44 of Ghosts of the Dead

She rips a strip of fabric from her shirt, wraps it around the end of a stick, and plunges it into the fire. The torch ignites with a whoosh. She turns and waves it toward the rotters, forcing them to flinch back from the flames.

“Smart girl,” Jace mutters.

“Good girls,” I say, to both the mystery dog and to Autumn.

The flames give us enough edge, and together, we push forward, swinging blades and using fire to drive them back.

Autumn lights one rotter on fire, and it tumbles into two more. One by one, they fall, until we’re surrounded by a massacre of the dead.

When the last rotter collapses, the only sound is our ragged breathing. I glance down. The blanket I’d found for her is soaked in black, rotted blood. “Son of a bitch.”

I crouch to pick it up and try to shake it out, but it’s useless, smells like death, and is completely ruined. I toss it into the fire with a muttered curse. The flames rise to devour it in seconds.

Autumn stares at me with concern etched into her beautiful face. Concern aimed at me. “You okay?”

I wipe blood from my face with the back of my arm. “I was gonna ask you that.”

“That’s the second time you’ve brought rotters with you, although I’m not sure if the ones in the city count.”

“And both times I took care of it,” I shoot back with a grin. “We can count this as part of your danger tour.”

She laughs, and damn if the sound doesn’t do something to me. A breeze blows through and she shivers, reminding me how I took one problem and multiplied it. I went out in search of a blanket, and instead she had to burn part of what little clothing she has left in order to keep us safe.

“I’m starting to think I’m cursed. Although, don’t go jumping off any roofs this time,” I say.

She laughs again, and damn if it doesn’t slice straight through me. Sharp and warm and way too dangerous. God, she’s fucking gorgeous when she laughs.

A low growl echoes nearby, and my smile drops. I spin around with my knife still in hand.

The German Shepherd steps into the circle of firelight. Her fur is rough and patchy in places, and her ribs are faintly visible beneath her coat. She walks low, staying near the edge of the shadows, and her nose twitches when she sniffs the blood-stained dirt.

Where the hell did this dog come from? And why did she help us? Whatever the answer, she deserves the best meal we can muster for her.

“Luna,” Autumn breathes. “I thought it was you.”

The dog’s ears perk up.

Okay, the girl who blows up train stations and tames stray dogs—I’m screwed.

Autumn crouches low and pats her thigh. “Luna, come here, girl.”

The dog doesn’t come forward, but she doesn’t bolt, either. After a long pause, Luna walks over with cautious steps, and stops a few feet away. She sniffs the air again. Then, in a moment that’s almost reverent, she settles downbeside Autumn. Not close enough to touch, but closer than I’d expect from a wild dog.

Jace stares from the other side of the fire, his jaw working. Caspian merely blinks. I guess we’re all afraid to move and risk scaring her away.

“I was hoping to see her again. I think she lost her family, like me,” Autumn says.

Again? When did she meet this dog before?

Autumn answers my questions as though she could read my mind. “She’s been following me for a few weeks now. It started a couple days after I lost Summer. She’s never gotten this close until now.”

Luna lays her head on her paws and closes her eyes. I sit down beside Autumn and watch then flames from the fire lick higher into the dark. Jace mutters something and disappears into the tree where the rotters came from. Caspian watches him go, then looks over at me.

I shrug. The blanket was a failure, but at least it resulted in Luna coming out of the shadows. “Worth it.”

Caspian shakes his head and settles into a seated position with his back against the wall.

I grab a bag of beef jerky from my pack, one of the things Caspian and I managed to scavenge from the old gas station, and toss a piece to Luna, who catches it in her mouth.

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