He drops Ari, and I snag her, turning to run. That was the plan.
Only I can’t run, because something huge is coming up the stairs. A big black and gray dog.
It looks at me. Looks past me, and the golden eyes flash.
I’m too startled to scream (and that’s saying something).
“Help,” I breathe out, holding Ari tight. I look at the monstrous dog as if it will understand me.
The dog, a wolf-dog hybrid by the size of it,doesunderstand. He lunges at Matt with a snarl, and his jaws snap down. Bones crunch. Matt screams like someone is cutting off his leg—and honestly, I’m okay with it.
“911, 911,” I mutter, hobbling as fast as I can down the stairs.
“Hey, Loretta? Loretta, answer me!”
Alban Wymark is standing in the hall, wide-eyed, looking at me in panic.
“He tried to kill me. Throw me down the stairs. Call the police,” I babble over Arianna’s piercing wails.
“What?” he demands, voice fraught with fear, taking the stairs at double-time. He’s not reaching for his phone.
“He had the baby! He was going to go out the window. I kicked him and got her back.”
“Jasper had the baby and—”
“What? No, not Jasper, Matt! Jasper’s downstairs in the recording room!” I hiss, realizing that my hands are still bleeding, and blood is getting all over Ari’s pale pink sleepsuit. The sight of it makes me want to double up and vomit, but I can’t. “Please, call the police!”
“I...” Alban hesitates, then gasps. He pulls a stick out of his pocket.
A stick. Thin and tapered.
A wand? My lawyer is using a wand instead of a cell phone. Wonderful.
The big wolf-dog is coming slowly down the stairs. Something thumps behind it. Dragging. Hitting each step.
A bloody mass of flesh is in its mouth. Matt’s leg, or what used to be a leg. Something larger drags behind the beast.
Matt, or what’s left of him.
The thing that the wolf-dog lays at Alban’s feet is more bloody tissue than skin.
“Jasper, I don’t want to knock you out, but you come any closer and I will,” Alban says.
To the animal. The wolf-dog.
The animal lets out a low, soft howl and hangs its head. It dips its head once, like a nod, and pads back to the basement, leaving bloody pawprints in its wake.
I turn my eyes to what’s left behind. “Matt?” I whisper.
“Shit,” Alban whispers and turns to the still mess on the floor. “Okay, I’ll answer questions later. I have to send a text, and you’re about to have a couple of the neighbors over.”
“I am? Now?” I feel lightheaded. I can’t look at what used to be my husband. The father of my child.
My attacker.
I can’t look because I feel waves of relief slamming over the good memories we had. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be that way, but I can’t help it.
“You’re going to sit before you faint,” Alban says. The stick goes back in his pocket, and he just twitches his fingers.
