Page 28 of Black Dog

When the Rottweiler sank to the floor, the crowd instantly stilled and went eerily quiet, many of them understanding that the money they’d bet on the ‘series champion’ was badly spent.

“Guess we found your dog,” Storm said as he and Rammel came running into the barn.

Ram’s first impulse was to call out to Blackie, but thankfully he realized the distraction could do more harm than good.

Blackie could feel the Rottweiler’s heartbeat in his mouth. When he felt it slow, he gave the dog a mighty shake which served the purpose of digging his teeth even further and severing the artery he’d been squeezing.

Storm and Ram began moving around the circle toward the cage opening.

Blackie opened his jaws and raised his eyes to the gate opening of the cage. When the handlers came to open the gate, he simply stood still over the dog he’d killed in self-defense, with head down. He was bleeding profusely, panting, and had murder in his eyes.

He watched carefully as the handlers stepped into the cage. They pulled the gate closed most of the way, but didn’t engage the latch. Calling on the cunning of his coyote cousins, Blackie remained utterly still as if he was resigned and docile. When the man closest to him extended the pole with the noose, Blackie waited until the rope loop was inches away from his face.

Exploding into a burst of speed that belied the wound he’d sustained, he ducked to the right of the man on the right and ran straight through the gate opening. Ram had been making his way through the crowd and arrived at the gate opening the same time as Blackie.

He called out, “Blackie! Blackie!” And was almost close enough to reach out and touch as the dog went by in a blur.

Blackie didn’t hear Ram call to him. Nor did he pick up the familiar scent in the ocean of disagreeable smells. He ran out into the night, ignoring the wound, feeling elated.

Elora.

Helm.

Home.

Elora.

Helm.

Home.

Blackie was as focused as a creature can be. He knew what he wanted. He knew what he was going to do. He would ignore the stinging pain, the dark, and the cold. The only thing that mattered was that he was going home.

Ram looked at Storm with incredulity. “Great Fuckin’ Paddy! Elora is goin’ to hang my balls on the line to dry when she finds out I was this close.”

As Storm was opening his mouth to answer, they realized the barn had broken into pandemonium. Some of the people were shouting, “Raid! Raid!”

Storm rolled his eyes, pulled out his phone and dialed Simon. When Simon picked up, Storm held a finger over the ear that did not have a phone held to it. “Can you please make sure these fine officers don’t grab Ram and me?” Pause. “We’ll wait quietly and leave when things settle down.” Pause. “He’s alive. Injured. He broke free and, if I had to guess, would say he’s going to try to find his way home.” Pause. “Yes. I know there’ve been instances of that happening.” Pause. “Yeah. Know that, too.” Storm ended the call.

“Know what, too?” Ram said.

Storm took a deep breath. “The reason why those stories are so dramatic is because it’s rare. It’s cold, dark, and that open gash looked nasty.”

Ram looked around. “We might have an ace.”

“Yeah?”

“Aye. An ace named Dolmen Blacknell.”

It was Ram’s turn to pull out his phone and dial Helm.

“Da?”

“Where are ye?”

“Upstairs. In my room.”

“Good. Helm, ye know I would ne’er condone subterfuge where your mother is concerned unless there was a really, really, really good reason.”

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