Key of Knowledge
Page 31
He gave her a smile that was both mildly quizzical and wholly innocent. “You just said I couldn’t sleep here.”
“You can’t. Neither can he.”
“Now look, you’ve hurt his feelings.” He looked sorrowfully at Moe, who was trying to nose his way into the bag. “It’s all right, big guy. She didn’t mean it.”
“Give me a break.”
“You don’t know what dogs understand. Scientific tests are inconclusive.” He gave Dana a brotherly pat on the cheek. “So anyway, Moe’s going to stay for a couple weeks. Play guard dog.”
“Guard dog?” She noted that Moe was now chewing on the bag. “Give me a serious break.”
Obviously not finding the brown paper to his taste, Moe wandered off to sniff for crumbs, and Flynn sat down, stretched out his legs. He’d reconsidered his strategy and decided that this tack was foolproof with Dana. “Okay. I’ll stay and be guard dog since you have no faith in Moe. Let’s flip a coin for the bed.”
“I’m the only one sleeping in my bed, and I have less faith in you than I do in that big mutt, who is currently chasing his own tail. Moe! Cut that out before you wreck my place.”
She considered just tearing out her own hair when Moe bashed against a table in his desperate attempt to latch teeth onto tail, and sent books thudding down on his head.
He gave a startled bark and scrambled toward Flynn for protection.
“Go away, Flynn, and take your klutzy dog with you.”
Flynn simply lifted his legs and used Moe as a footstool. “Let’s just go over our options,” he began.
Twenty minutes later Dana stomped into the kitchen. She stopped short, hissed through her teeth when she saw the contents of her trash can strewed from one end of the floor to the other and Moe happily sprawled over the mess of it, chewing on a wad of paper towels.
“How does he do it? How the hell did he talk me into this?” And that, she admitted, was the mystery of Flynn Hennessy. You never knew just how he managed to box you into the corner of his choice.
She crouched down, got nose to nose with Moe.
Moe rolled his eyes to the side, avoiding hers. Dana swore that if dogs could whistle, she’d have heard the I-wasn’t-doing-anything tune coming out of the dog’s mouth. “Okay, pal, you and I are going to go over the rules of the household.”
He responded by licking her face, then flopping over to expose his belly.
SHE woke with the sun streaming over her face and her legs paralyzed. The sun was easy to explain. She’d forgotten to draw the curtains again. And her legs weren’t paralyzed, she realized after a moment of panic. They were trapped under the massive bulk of Moe.
“Okay, this is no way to begin.” She sat up, then shoved the dog hard. “I said no dogs allowed on the bed. I was very clear about that rule.”
He moaned, an oddly human sound that made her lips twitch. Then he opened one eye. Then that eye brightened with manic joy.
“No!”
But it was too late. In one leap, he’d trapped not only her legs but her entire body. Dancing paws pressed into her belly, her br**sts, her crotch. His tongue slathered her face with desperate love.
“Stop it! Down! Mary Mother of God!” And she was laughing hysterically, wrestling with him, until he leaped off the bed and raced out of the room.
“Whew.” She pushed at her hair. It was definitely not the way she cared to wake, as a rule. But for one day she could make an exception.
Now she needed coffee. Immediately.
Before she could throw back the covers, Moe bounded back in.
“No! Don’t you do it! Don’t you bring that horrible, disgusting ball into this bed.”
Her usual morning speed approximated that of a snail on Valium, but one look at the tennis ball in Moe’s mouth had her moving like an Olympic sprinter. She hit the floor, causing Moe to change direction and go into a skid. He thudded against the bed frame, then, undaunted, spat the ball at her feet.
“We do not play fetch the ball in the house. We do not play fetch the ball when I’m naked, which, you may notice, I am. We do not play fetch the ball before I have coffee.”
He cocked his head charmingly and lifted a paw.
“We’re going to have to compromise. First I’ll get unnaked.” She went to the closet for her robe. “Then I’ll have my first cup of coffee. After which I’ll take you for a very, very brief walk during which you can relieve your bladder and play fetch the ball for exactly three minutes. Take it or leave it.”
SHE didn’t know how he did it—like master, like dog, she supposed—but she ended up spending a good twenty minutes playing with Moe in the park.
This was not her morning routine, and if there was anything that was sacrosanct to Dana, it was her morning routine. She could admit that she felt more energized and more cheerful after the interlude with the goofy dog. But she wasn’t going to tell Moe that, or anyone else.
He gobbled down his breakfast while she ate hers, then fortunately for all involved, plopped down for a quick morning nap while she substituted Othello for her current breakfast book.
To stay fresh, to let it all simmer in her head, she switched gears after thirty minutes, and chose one of the books on sorcery. However wily and amoral Iago was, Kane was more so—and he had power. Maybe there was a way to undermine it, or deflect it, while she searched for the key.
She read of white magic, and of black. Of sorcery and necromancy. And it was different, she realized as she made her notes, when you knew the fantastic you read of was real.
Not fantasy. Not lies, but truth.
She had to remember that, she thought as she closed the book. It was essential that she remember the truth.
IT was very satisfying, Dana discovered when she was hip-deep in work at Indulgence, to prime the dull wall with fresh white paint.
Our place, she thought.
As they painted, she briefed Zoe and Malory on her visit to the Peak and what she’d learned.
“So he can hurt us.” Frowning, Zoe added more paint to the automatic roller for Malory. “Or we can hurt ourselves. I guess that’s what it really means.”
“If we drift too far beyond actual reality, yeah,” Dana agreed. “I think that’s what it means.”
“But he can’t hurt us unless we allow it,” Malory put in. “The trick is not to allow it, which is not as easy as it sounds.”
“You can’t. Neither can he.”
“Now look, you’ve hurt his feelings.” He looked sorrowfully at Moe, who was trying to nose his way into the bag. “It’s all right, big guy. She didn’t mean it.”
“Give me a break.”
“You don’t know what dogs understand. Scientific tests are inconclusive.” He gave Dana a brotherly pat on the cheek. “So anyway, Moe’s going to stay for a couple weeks. Play guard dog.”
“Guard dog?” She noted that Moe was now chewing on the bag. “Give me a serious break.”
Obviously not finding the brown paper to his taste, Moe wandered off to sniff for crumbs, and Flynn sat down, stretched out his legs. He’d reconsidered his strategy and decided that this tack was foolproof with Dana. “Okay. I’ll stay and be guard dog since you have no faith in Moe. Let’s flip a coin for the bed.”
“I’m the only one sleeping in my bed, and I have less faith in you than I do in that big mutt, who is currently chasing his own tail. Moe! Cut that out before you wreck my place.”
She considered just tearing out her own hair when Moe bashed against a table in his desperate attempt to latch teeth onto tail, and sent books thudding down on his head.
He gave a startled bark and scrambled toward Flynn for protection.
“Go away, Flynn, and take your klutzy dog with you.”
Flynn simply lifted his legs and used Moe as a footstool. “Let’s just go over our options,” he began.
Twenty minutes later Dana stomped into the kitchen. She stopped short, hissed through her teeth when she saw the contents of her trash can strewed from one end of the floor to the other and Moe happily sprawled over the mess of it, chewing on a wad of paper towels.
“How does he do it? How the hell did he talk me into this?” And that, she admitted, was the mystery of Flynn Hennessy. You never knew just how he managed to box you into the corner of his choice.
She crouched down, got nose to nose with Moe.
Moe rolled his eyes to the side, avoiding hers. Dana swore that if dogs could whistle, she’d have heard the I-wasn’t-doing-anything tune coming out of the dog’s mouth. “Okay, pal, you and I are going to go over the rules of the household.”
He responded by licking her face, then flopping over to expose his belly.
SHE woke with the sun streaming over her face and her legs paralyzed. The sun was easy to explain. She’d forgotten to draw the curtains again. And her legs weren’t paralyzed, she realized after a moment of panic. They were trapped under the massive bulk of Moe.
“Okay, this is no way to begin.” She sat up, then shoved the dog hard. “I said no dogs allowed on the bed. I was very clear about that rule.”
He moaned, an oddly human sound that made her lips twitch. Then he opened one eye. Then that eye brightened with manic joy.
“No!”
But it was too late. In one leap, he’d trapped not only her legs but her entire body. Dancing paws pressed into her belly, her br**sts, her crotch. His tongue slathered her face with desperate love.
“Stop it! Down! Mary Mother of God!” And she was laughing hysterically, wrestling with him, until he leaped off the bed and raced out of the room.
“Whew.” She pushed at her hair. It was definitely not the way she cared to wake, as a rule. But for one day she could make an exception.
Now she needed coffee. Immediately.
Before she could throw back the covers, Moe bounded back in.
“No! Don’t you do it! Don’t you bring that horrible, disgusting ball into this bed.”
Her usual morning speed approximated that of a snail on Valium, but one look at the tennis ball in Moe’s mouth had her moving like an Olympic sprinter. She hit the floor, causing Moe to change direction and go into a skid. He thudded against the bed frame, then, undaunted, spat the ball at her feet.
“We do not play fetch the ball in the house. We do not play fetch the ball when I’m naked, which, you may notice, I am. We do not play fetch the ball before I have coffee.”
He cocked his head charmingly and lifted a paw.
“We’re going to have to compromise. First I’ll get unnaked.” She went to the closet for her robe. “Then I’ll have my first cup of coffee. After which I’ll take you for a very, very brief walk during which you can relieve your bladder and play fetch the ball for exactly three minutes. Take it or leave it.”
SHE didn’t know how he did it—like master, like dog, she supposed—but she ended up spending a good twenty minutes playing with Moe in the park.
This was not her morning routine, and if there was anything that was sacrosanct to Dana, it was her morning routine. She could admit that she felt more energized and more cheerful after the interlude with the goofy dog. But she wasn’t going to tell Moe that, or anyone else.
He gobbled down his breakfast while she ate hers, then fortunately for all involved, plopped down for a quick morning nap while she substituted Othello for her current breakfast book.
To stay fresh, to let it all simmer in her head, she switched gears after thirty minutes, and chose one of the books on sorcery. However wily and amoral Iago was, Kane was more so—and he had power. Maybe there was a way to undermine it, or deflect it, while she searched for the key.
She read of white magic, and of black. Of sorcery and necromancy. And it was different, she realized as she made her notes, when you knew the fantastic you read of was real.
Not fantasy. Not lies, but truth.
She had to remember that, she thought as she closed the book. It was essential that she remember the truth.
IT was very satisfying, Dana discovered when she was hip-deep in work at Indulgence, to prime the dull wall with fresh white paint.
Our place, she thought.
As they painted, she briefed Zoe and Malory on her visit to the Peak and what she’d learned.
“So he can hurt us.” Frowning, Zoe added more paint to the automatic roller for Malory. “Or we can hurt ourselves. I guess that’s what it really means.”
“If we drift too far beyond actual reality, yeah,” Dana agreed. “I think that’s what it means.”
“But he can’t hurt us unless we allow it,” Malory put in. “The trick is not to allow it, which is not as easy as it sounds.”
