A/N: Hey everyone! I'm trying to wrap this story up so that it doesn't keep dragging on forever with short, intermittent updates. There are a couple of things I still want to touch on (if not fully explore), and I'm going to try to finish this little universe within the next 6 (or less) chapters.
Eighteen
"This is becoming a habit," Victor growled blearily.
The child shrugged and swiped her hair back out of her eyes.
It was two a.m., it was snowing, and there was a soaked-through brat shivering on his doorstep.
This was the fifth time in the past six months, and Victor didn't know what the hell to do to put the girl off these little excursions. She saw through his posturing for what it was, and Victor didn't want to actually hurt the kid. He wouldn't go so far as to admit he liked the company, but Laura was family. And he looked out for family.
Didn't mean he had to be happy about it.
Victor was about to let the brat in and deal with the fallout in the morning, when he scented It and noted the form tucked behind her.
"What the hell is that?"
The beast moved, wedging itself in front of the girl. Apparently, the little bastard didn't like his tone.
Once in the clear view, he could better make out the stocky form and truncated snout.
A bulldog.
"He's Constable Waddlesworth. He's s'posed to stay with me."
Victor growled at the dog.
The dog took one step forward and growled back.
The older feral nodded.
"He'll do."