Shadow spent the morning following Tracy around the house. He knew better than to pick a fight with her here and now. He'd felt the strength of the Evening Wolf the night before, and knew that strength wasn't entirely gone, just because its face and scent were now human. If it came to it, he would fight alone, knowing that he stood no chance. But he would prefer it not happen that way.
And too, there was another reason. Shadow had never set his teeth against any invited house guest. He'd never so much as growled at one. He knew the rules of the house. The dog who growled at guests was the dog who was taken outside. The dog who bit a guest was sent away. It hadn't happened to any dog Shadow knew, but he knew that humans did not tolerate a dog who bit guests. It was not in the nature of a Golden Retriever to be particularly standoffish or defensive anyway.
To go after Tracy, knowing she was an invited guest, a member of the family even, was a crime beyond any Shadow had ever considered, even in his youth. It was a rule which even Chance would not think of breaking. And yet, break it they must. Even if they were called bad dogs, sent away to the pound never to return, they still had to do it. But maybe, just maybe, Chance's crime might be lessened, if he was not the one who struck the final blow. If Shadow was the one who finished it, Chance might still be redeemed in the eyes of his family. But how to do it?
In his head, Shadow was working out all the angles, all the possibilities. Everywhere the fight could take place. Each and every move they could make, and that the creature was likely to make. Outside, upstairs, downstairs, in the woods. The creature attacking them first, or them going on the offensive before it could.
Now and then, he caught it looking at him from behind Tracy's eyes. Darkly malicious, eager for blood, biding its time, waiting... waiting for what? Moonrise.
Shadow felt the hair on his neck stand on end as he realized that moonrise would come long before sunset. They didn't have until nightfall. They had hours, at most. And then it would begin.
Now he knew why Tracy was bursting with confidence. She knew Shadow didn't have time to make a proper plan. Knew also that Chance was tied up, and would remain so for some time to come. It was just her and Shadow. If she took him out, then Chance would be an easy mark. But would Sassy figure out the collar in time? It was a heavy, stiff material, designed specifically to keep a dog from pawing it off. If the Evening Wolf hit its full strength, even two dogs wouldn't be enough. One certainly would not be.
Shadow had to do something. He wasn't strong enough on his own to win a fight with Tracy. Not even now. He could sense that. But Tracy wasn't making her move yet. Was it because she still had an ounce of sanity somewhere in that crumbling mind? Or was it because she was afraid of the damage the old dog might inflict while she was weak? The latter was far more likely.
Had she not pulled back when he barked at her? Had she not left him alone while he was under the table? Was it not now he who was following her, instead of the other way around?
He couldn't win a fight. But he could surely do enough damage to make it difficult, or impossible to kill Chance later on. Shadow was a threat. Tracy might not be afraid of him, but her survival instinct meant she wasn't fool enough to pick a fight with him right now. She had all the time in the world. Shadow didn't.
And she was counting on Shadow's waiting. She was relying on his pack instinct to keep him at bay until reinforcements arrived, and until the Evening Wolf showed itself. It's what almost any dog would do. The Evening Wolf would to anything to safeguard its own survival, no matter what form it was in. It expected Shadow to do the same. Most dogs might. But Tracy had not been wrong when she said that Shadow wasn't most dogs.
Now was not the time to plan. It was time to act. If he delayed, even for a few minutes, Tracy might pick up on the change in his demeanor. If she was aware of what he knew, she might do something to protect herself, to insure that he never got a shot at her.
They were in the living room. Tracy was pretending to read a book, but kept looking over it at Shadow, who lay on the rug near the fireplace. The kids were playing a board game in the dining room. Jim, where was Jim? Shadow lifted his head briefly and listened. Footsteps upstairs. Good.
Shadow didn't hesitate. He rose to his feet suddenly, tearing from the restraint which had kept him still and silent up to now. Golden Retrievers are not known for their ferocity, and there are even people in this world who believe them to be incapable of snarling. In its unexpectedness, the snarl of such a dog is truly one of the most terrible sights. Tracy's countermeasure when she saw the advancing fury was equally unexpected. She screamed. Shadow's response to this noise was to give voice. To growl. To bark. And to lunge at her, snapping and pulling back before he got within her reach.
A moment later, Shadow knew what the scream had been for.
Behind him, the kids started yelling and screaming. Above the clamor, he heard the voice of Peter, clear, horrified... disappointed "Shadow, no!" Shadow halted, and fell silent, but the snarl did not leave his face, nor did he turn towards his boy. He could not.
Tracy began to edge her way around the room towards the kids, Shadow turning with her, but momentarily held at bay by the command of Peter. Every nerve in the great dog's body was against listening, every part of his brain told him that he couldn't afford to wait. But his heart, that part of him which belonged most wholly to the young boy, could not bear the feeling that had been in Peter's voice.
"Get back, kids," Tracy said as she reached them, "Get behind me."
She had to know what this would do. Maybe she hoped to secure a position of power. There's no telling. But no good dog permits something he considers to be the enemy to get between himself and those whom he would give his life to protect. Tracy had not taken more than one direct step towards the kids before the enraged retriever unleashed a savage sound more like a roar than anything and leaped at her, fangs bared. The kids screamed and fell back as the dog hit their aunt full in the chest and drove at her neck with snapping jaws.
"Upstairs, upstairs!" Peter shouted at his siblings, "Mom and dad's room! Go, go!"
He hesitated only a second. He couldn't think right now about what had become of his dog. He couldn't let himself realize that it must have been his dog who did the attacking last night, and not Chance. That it was his dog who had now gone mad. He couldn't think about that. He had to protect Hope and Jamie.
The master bedroom had a door with a lock but, more importantly, it also had a phone. But who do you call in a situation like this? The police? Could he call his parents? No... animal control. That was right. By now he was running up the stairs after his siblings. He didn't let himself look back. He knew he would be paralyzed with horror if he did.
Tracy had hold of Shadow's ruff, and was managing to keep the big dog off her neck. The worn but still strong canine teeth drove at her, clicked together futilely on empty air. Then Shadow switched tactics. Turning his head, he closed his jaws firmly on one of the hands that held him back.
Tracy screamed, this time in real pain, where before it had been false fear, but she didn't let go. She drew up one of her legs and thrust her knee into the dog's ribs, forcing him off her so that she could get to her feet. He tried to hang on, but his grip wasn't good enough. Shadow slid helplessly across the wood floor, paws working in vain to get traction. But as soon as his motion was halted by the wall, the dog got to his feet and was again on the offensive.
A bulldog will find a place to bite and hold, refusing to let go even if he is beaten half to death. A German shepherd will use his own weight to drive his adversary to the ground before pinning it there. A collie will take a wolfish tactic, darting in and out, using his teeth to slash as he goes by, but always keeping out of his opponent's range. But a retriever is not bred to fight, to guard, or to herd. Retrievers by nature and design have a soft mouth, and are not fighters by blood. Like virtually any dog, they are more than a match for a human being if they put their mind to it. But this wasn't a human being. This was a creature every bit as dangerous and deadly as any predator of the wild. More even.
Shadow was at a severe disadvantage by more than just age. What made him different from virtually any other retriever was that he was aware of that fact. He knew that he lacked killer instincts. He had to work at it, to think about it. Thus, he had done so, turning weakness to advantage. His knowledge and understanding of cause and effect was on par with humans, maybe even beyond.
Where a lesser dog might have repeated the same tactic over and over until they succeeded or were killed, Shadow switched strategy mid-game. Tracy expected him to leap at her again, but this time he didn't. He ran straight for her. Instead of biting, he swung his shoulder as he swept past, striking her knee with his body. The wood floor proved to be almost as treacherous for bare feet as paws.
As Shadow skittered and turned about to face Tracy, the latter wobbled, then fell to one knee to keep from going down entirely, which she knew would be the end of her. Shadow pushed off from the wall and leaped at the exposed back of his enemy, seeking to break her neck with one fatal bite.
But Tracy turned and struck out with an arm, catching the dog full in the chest, forcing his front paws off the floor and nearly flipping him. Even as she completed the motion, Shadow switched modes. His front paws, no longer useful for forward motion, changed jobs. He wrapped them around her arm as he might a favorite chew toy, rotated his head and took her hand in his mouth.
"No!" Tracy realized, even in the split second, what was about to happen, but didn't have time to pull her hand free as the mighty jaws closed and the back teeth did exactly what they were designed to do- they cracked bone.
Tracy got to her feet, pulling the dog with her. Her free hand was changing now. The nails lengthened, turning black, the fingers became spindly like spider legs. The razor claws flashed towards the dog, aiming for his exposed belly. But Shadow saw it coming and let go, dropping to the floor. The claws caught the back of one of his forelegs, but that was all.
"Damn dog!" the shriek was barely recognizable as having come from a human.
Breathless, Shadow took a few steps back. Tracy stood before him, but she was changing even now, before moonrise. The tine-like fingers ended in sickle claws. The skin on her hands was turning gray, and black hair had begun to sprout on her arms. But most significant was her eyes. They were the same color as before, but the shape and dimension was changing. Becoming more animal. Her parted lips showed the tips of fangs not unlike those possessed by Shadow himself.
"Come on!" the challenge of the Evening Wolf roared through the air, vibrating the very doors and rattling the glass windows.
Willingly, the dog responded, raising his own voice to echo and accept the challenge. He leaped forward, one paw slipped slightly on his own blood and slowing his rush. That little slip, which he had anticipated but the Evening Wolf had not. It swung at where the dog would have been had he not been slowed down, but cut through empty air. Shadow leaped, and his teeth closed around the arm.
There was a roar, a flash of black claws. A yelp was followed by blood splashing across the floor and hitting the back of the flowered living room couch. The dog's teeth loosed their grip. Like a puppet whose strings have been cut, the old retriever slid to the floor.
Beyond the door, there came a wailing cry as the sounds were heard, processed and understood by Chance outside. The Evening Wolf, eyes glowing dully now, turned towards the door. Black lips peeled back from a hideous mouth in an expression that was half snarl and half deranged smile.
"You're next, puppy."
