Chapter 69: The Problem with the Dog

“You never told me a funeral was so expensive,” Shannon muttered, as they loaded shopping bags filled with gold jewelry into the black van he had stolen from the Inquisition. Five hours—and four calls to her bank to confirm that it was actually her spending the hundreds of thousands of dollars on random shit—later, they had a van full of goodies and were in a hurry to get to the hotel room that Shannon had booked in South Anchorage, one of the few hotels that allowed pets.

“It’s merely a fraction of what he should have,” Björn said, sounding disappointed as he climbed into the back seat. Angus was sitting on the front seat, idly playing with one of the delicate gold lockets.

“Tell your dog if he eats that, I will immediately remove it from his body,” Björn said, showing teeth.

Shannon, who was more concerned that Angus would steal it, told the feylord, “Just give it back to him, okay?”

With a huge sigh, Angus tossed it back at Björn, who caught it, impressed. “Your dog is smart,” the barghest said, looking fascinated. “Have you considered training him for war?”

“Yeah, no,” Shannon said, glancing at Angus, who was shaking his head rapidly. “Somehow I don’t think bloodshed is really his thing.”

On the drive to Anchorage, the barghest had put a big fist around the dog’s throat and told her essentially everything he’d said earlier that morning, confirming to Shannon that—to him, at least—he spoke the truth.

She still wondered, of course, just a little, but when she watched the barghest smoothly tell her of how they were soulmates bonded together by the will of Odin and Freyja without so much as hesitating from the Horn, she had started to take him a bit more seriously.

“Still,” Björn grunted firmly, “you should breed him. Would make a great stud. Produce many prize hounds.”

At those words, Angus actually looked sick.

“He’s sterile,” Shannon said, before the barghest could get it into his head to try introducing her ‘stud’ to available ladies.

“He still has his nuts,” Björn said, frowning, looking.

“It was a vasectomy,” Shannon said, flushing. “The vet said it’s easier on them if they keep their balls. Hormones and stuff.”

“Then perhaps we could use his balls in a ritual to—”

“You want to go to sleep.”

“I’m suddenly so tired,” Björn said. “This ‘shopping’ is exhausting, just as you warned me. Excuse me while I nap.” The barghest rolled over and passed out on the back seat, which happened to be covered in gore and claw marks, with loose stuffing pulled through the shredded upholstery from where he had undoubtedly murdered someone.

Angus glared at the sleeping barghest for several moments before turning to scowl at her. “He’s sterile?”

“I was just trying to spare you the discomfort,” Shannon said.

“I’m not sterile.”

“Okay, but he thinks you are a dog and was gonna try to breed you.”

Angus gave her a flat doggy look. “I can take care of myself, thank you.”

And he definitely could, too. The feylord had proven that a hundred times over, now, especially during the last two hours, when he had brazenly walked into the Northway Mall and told anyone who tried to stop him that they wanted to mind their own business, that he was a service dog, or that a law had just been passed that made dogs people, too. Shannon squinted over at him as they paused at a stoplight. “Why’s it bother you so much what he thinks, anyway?”

Angus tensed and looked away a little too casually. “No reason.”

Realizing the reaction for what it was, Shannon’s mouth fell open. “You’re jealous?”

“No, I’m—” Then Angus’s words choked off before he could finish.

“You’re jealous!” Shannon cackled. “Of the barghest. Why?!”

“I saw you in the woods with him,” Angus muttered. He looked over, his doggy face sad. “While you were…drinking.”

Shannon’s amusement faded as if she’d been doused in liquid nitrogen. She swallowed hard and suddenly found the road ahead of her very interesting. “Oh yeah?”

“Yep.” Angus glanced back out the passenger side window.

“So, uh, what was he doing?” she asked. “Was he like…I dunno…groping me or anything?”

Angus twisted back to give her a doggy squint. “You don’t remember?”

“If I did I wouldn’t be asking!” she snapped.

Sighing deeply, Angus said, “Unfortunately, he was a perfect gentleman.”

Shannon’s mouth fell open. “Unfortunately?”

“Of anyone, the barghest would be your best bet to take your virginity,” Angus said. “You saw what he did with the Fury. He might actually survive a—”

“Now just hold up,” Shannon growled. “Unfortunately, you shit?”

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

Like it was a task to be loathed, not one to be cherished forever. Shannon, who had been raised on romance novels in an attempt to avoid her parents, narrowed her eyes at him, recognizing it was very similar to what Theo and Masaaki had said—multiple times—before they had both ditched her to go play warrior in Kenai. “When I find the right guy and decide to have sex the first time,” she grated, “it will be because he’s a perfect gentleman, not because I want some beefy asshole to ‘break me in.’”

Angus shrugged. “Your choice.” He gave her a quick sideways inspection. “Invest in coffins.”

“Coffins. Plural?”

“Yeah,” Angus said. “You get someone who can’t hold you down, you’re not gonna be satisfied with just one.”

You get someone who can’t hold you down… Shannon’s mind sputtered. “You have got to be shitting me. What the fuck is wrong with you guys, saying that to a virgin? I’m nineteen.”

Angus shrugged. “Like I said. Invest in coffins.”

“Douche.”

“Naïve girl.” And she felt naïve, too. All this time, with all these incredibly powerful supernatural creatures all around her, she felt so inexperienced, so out of her—

Shannon slammed on the brakes and glared at him. “I said no mind tricks on me.”

Angus yawned. “Told you. Can’t help it. Just my voice.”

And he couldn’t, either. Shannon had seen it time and again, where he merely spoke a word and…

“Angus,” she said evenly, “I’m serio—”

“Tl'oghk'etnaeyen,” he replied, still staring out the window. “Not a dog.”

And Shannon suddenly felt a wave of shame that she had essentially branded this unfortunate green dude as Man’s Best Friend because it was easier to think of him as a dog than it was to think of him as a—

Her mouth fell open. “You put more power in your words when you’re upset.”

He cast a reluctant sideways look back at her. “Probably.” He shrugged. “I was never taught to use it correctly. It’s all just pure instinct. My father…had other plans for me.” He sighed and pressed his wet mastiff nose to the window as he peered out at the sidewalk as they passed.

Shannon considered that as they approached the hotel. “You’re really worried about the whole virginity thing, aren’t you?”

“Pretty worried, yeah.” He gave her another sideways look, this one laced with anxiety. “Don’t wanna get caught in the crossfire.”

…caught in the crossfire… Like a fucking war zone. Shannon squinted at him. “So you’ve seen queens have sex for the first time before?”

He gave her a look like she’d asked him if he watched beastie porn. “Gaia’s womb, no. I’ve read about it. That was horrific enough.”

He’s just trying to scare me into freeing him sooner, Shannon thought.

“No I’m not.”

Fucking mind magi.

“Can’t help it.”

But he couldn’t help it.

Shannon gritted her teeth until she was pretty sure she heard a tooth crack. She pulled into the hotel parking lot and stopped the van a little too hard. “We’re here,” she announced needlessly. She threw off her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. By the time she had started to pay, Björn was slinging about three million dollars’ worth of gold, jewelry, replica swords, chainmail, and other assorted crap from the local nerd shop, and, with all of it slung over his shoulder, was striding into the hotel with the feylord following close behind.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, we don’t take dogs that size,” the desk clerk began quickly.

“You take dogs this size,” Angus said boredly.

“Oh…right…I forgot we do. Or…must. Somehow.” She frowned, getting visibly confused.

Angus just strode right past her, snagged the keycard from Shannon’s hand, and went straight to the room. He had already unlocked it and let himself inside by the time Shannon and the barghest—who was struggling under all the weight and bulk of his purchases—made it to the door.

Inside, Angus was spread out on the bed, flipping through channels on the TV with his ‘mouth.’

“I like your dog!” Björn roared, as he stepped inside.

“You can sleep on the floor,” Angus said, skimming the showtimes. “I’m sleeping on the bed.”

“But I should probably sleep on the floor for the first night of our arrangement,” Björn said, glancing at Shannon. “For your comfort.”

“You want to sleep on the bed,” Shannon said, scowling at Angus. The hotel, as most in Alaska in the summer, had been all but completely booked, and the only room available had been a single king.

“Yep.” He found the porn sites and started randomly purchasing pay-per-views.

“What the fuck, Angus?”

“My name,” he growled, “is Tl'oghk'etnaeyen Naltsiine and I am not a dog.”

Shannon staggered at the force of his words, and for an instant, the image of the drooling brindle mastiff shifted to that of a green-skinned man in spun-gold clothing. He was glaring at her, his emerald eyes filled with fury, fresh oak leaves entwined in his hair.

Then it was gone, replaced once more by a panting, drooling mastiff. Angus went back to flipping through porn.

Seeing what was on the screen, Björn chuckled. “Oh, I like him very much.”

“Go fuck off, you sausage-fingered fuckwit,” Angus said, boredly making another purchase. “Don’t come back for a few hours.”

“I have a need to piss,” Björn announced. “I might be a while.” He dumped his treasures in a resounding thud of gold and weapons, then left the room, apparently oblivious to the fact their room had its own bath.

Shannon watched Björn’s big back disappear down the hall, fought the urge to go after him, then shut the door behind the barghest and gingerly walked over to Angus. Sitting down beside him, she said, “All right. What’s up?”

“Please take it seriously,” Angus said, barely more than a whimper. He turned to face her. “Please. I’ll do anything.” He closed his eyes and let out a huge, slow breath between his teeth, then threw the remote against the wall, where the batteries popped out and went skittering across the floor. Scowling back at her, he said, “I don’t know how much more of this I can stand.”

Not sure how much was her own feelings and how much was suggestion, Shannon nonetheless felt for the guy. “Look, maybe I could just, I dunno, get on your back and let you carry me around a while. Your father said ride you, right? He never specifically said sex.”

Angus’s hope was painful. “Right now? You’d do it now?”

“Sure.”

He immediately dropped to all fours on the ground and waited.

Shannon, feeling silly as all hell, reluctantly climbed on, then spent the next five minutes ‘riding’ him as he carried her around the room. Finally, when it was clear it wasn’t going to break his curse, he sighed again, deposited her on the floor, went to retrieve the broken remote, and went back to the bed. Shannon watched as he re-installed the batteries and started surfing porn again.

“Okay, so maybe it’s a different kind of ride,” Shannon said. “Maybe we need a saddle or something.”

“It’s sex,” he said bitterly. “My father wanted to humiliate me. Of course it’s fucking sex.”

Shannon didn’t know what to say. “Well…I mean…I feel bad for you and all, but that’s kind of gross.”

Angus made a bitter, hopeless sound. “Aaannd that’s why it’s such an effective curse. He’ll be laughing about this one to his fucking grave, the conceited old iron-blood.” Shaking his head, he shut down the TV suddenly, slapped the remote a little too hard on the nightstand, and rolled over to sleep, staring at the wall.

“I’ll help you,” Shannon said.

There was a very long, protracted silence. Then, “I know. Just…hard to deal with sometimes.”

“I can imagine.”

“No you can’t.”

And, trapped by a Horn, Shannon knew he spoke the truth. She swallowed, then glanced at the door. “I’m, uh, gonna go find the barghest before he hurts someone. I’ll be back soon.” She hesitated. “You gonna be…okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said, his voice softening. “Go get the big lug before he pisses in a planter or something.”

Shannon did, dragging Björn back a few minutes later having found him out behind the hotel, letting loose a powerful stream of urine onto the rose bushes. For his part, the barghest couldn’t seem to comprehend why it was illegal to piss on a plant.

“Does Odin own the plant?” he demanded, as Shannon pushed him ahead of him into the room. “Or Freyja?”

“No, go sleep on the bed with Angus,” Shannon said, already having decided she would sleep on the floor. “I’ll take a blanket and sleep on the floor.”

Björn frowned at Angus. “You would let your dog sleep on the bed instead of you?”

“Just stop arguing with me,” Shannon snapped, seeing that Angus was awake and staring at the far wall opposite them.

“But he is just an animal…” Björn said, blinking in confusion.

Shannon saw the dog’s shoulders fold inward and the mastiff turned away until she could no longer see his face. Seeing that, Shannon gritted her teeth. “He’s my animal, and you said you wouldn’t argue with me.”

Björn opened his mouth to argue and she raised a brow.

He bared pointy teeth. “Compromise,” he said. Then, without a word, he yanked all the blankets and pillows off the bed—rolling Angus off onto the floor in the process—and carried them to the door, where he dropped them into a pile beside his hoard of Northway Mall bags. Then, making a ‘nest’ on the floor—much like a gorilla or a dog—he curled up with his back against the door and scowled at her over his treasures.

Shannon considered going to the front desk to ask for more blankets, then considered the shitfest of trying to get the barghest relocated long enough to do so, and, praying to Freyja for patience, took off her boots, went over to the bed, and flopped down beside the feylord fully clothed. It only took her a minute to realize that she was going to have trouble sleeping without covers.

Damn it, she thought, staring at the ceiling. From the events of the last two days, she was so tired she wanted to puke.

I’m in Hel, she thought, as she heard the barghest start to snore against the door. The gods hate me.

Then, tentatively, she wondered how she was going to survive the next twenty days, much less the next twenty years. Theo and Masaaki were still unaccounted for, and, if Theo’s last appearance was any indication, the next time she saw them, she could be in for a nasty blood-magic surprise, if the Duke had his way. That native dude had said something about kidnapping her. And then there were the Inquisitors calling her ‘demon’ and the angel attacking her…

How am I gonna survive this shit? she wondered, fighting panic. Even with a barghest and a feylord in the room, she couldn’t help but feel nervous when faced with the truth that random strangers wanted to kill or enslave her. It was paralyzing. And, worse, from what her friends had told her, she had nowhere to run. The Third Realm, the natural realm for vampires, was ten times worse than the First, a barbaric dog-eat-dog world steeped in darkness and cold, abandoned by civilization.

Well, aside from Ásgarðr. Odin and Freyja’s domain was a beacon of heat and hope in the darkness, lit by the sun-soaked branches of the World Tree, the glow cycling with the rise and the fall of the moon beyond the gates of the Odinwægg. If, of course, what her parents had told her was true. After the barghest had flawlessly recited his tale about Shannon being given to him as a prisoner of war while touching a Horn of Truth, she was definitely beginning to think there was more truth to her parents old ‘myths’ than she had ever wanted to accept, and that scared the ever-loving shit outta her.

She was so freakin’ out of her league right now. It was all she could do to keep her panic under control. Her soul bonded to a barghest? And she slept beside a feylord who could weave minds to his whim like cotton on a loom, one whom she had told she would sleep with—eventually—to break a curse.

And she hadn’t even told him she had a fear of naked people. As if him looking like a dog wasn’t bad enough…

Screwed, she thought. So screwed…

She had no doubt he didn’t deserve to be cursed to look like a dog, but she had to wonder what he’d done to deserve such punishment from his own father. Angus had carefully skipped over those details in explaining what he needed from her, leaving her to wonder what horrible crime he had committed to be so terribly afflicted.

Maybe he’s a murderer or something, Shannon thought. Or he tried to take the crown from his dad…

Her mind was chewing on that when Angus sighed, deeply, and rolled over to face her. Just as she was getting unnerved by the closeness of his muzzle, the dog—no, feylord—drew a glowing figure in the air with his paw and pushed it down onto her chest. The figure flashed with firefly-green energy that dissolved into a green fog and spread outward over her, settling atop every curve of her body…

“Hey, what are you—” Shannon demanded, starting to sit up.

…settling into the shape of a glowing green fog-blanket. Instantly, her entire body felt bathed in warm, comforting sunshine, from her neck to her toes.

Sheepishly, she relaxed. “Oh.”

With a grunt, Angus rolled back over and went to sleep.

Shannon glanced over at him, willing herself to see something other than a huge brown mastiff, but the image never faded. He doesn’t deserve to be cursed like that, Shannon thought, steeped in the warmth of his spell.

“Thanks, Tl'oghk'etyen,” she attempted, stumbling over the foreign word.

For a moment, it seemed like the feylord was already asleep. Then, slowly, he half-turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Tl'oghk'etnaeyen,” he corrected gently.

“Tl'oghk'etnaeyen,” she said. It sounded like a garbled mess in her mouth.

He scanned her eyes a moment, considering. “I had a good friend once who called me Naeyen,” he said reluctantly. “Her…command of language…was not very good.” The feylord’s voice and countenance took on a heaviness, an unmistakable sorrow. “Back home, her kind are not…allowed…to speak.”

“Naeyen,” she said. “Thanks.”

“It was self-serving,” he muttered. “You were being…loud.”

Shannon grinned, despite herself. “Well, thanks anyway.”

He grunted and rolled back over.

And, cuddled by the warmth of his ‘blanket’, Shannon passed out in seconds.