The massive dog—Joe—ambled up and stopped beside me, panting amiably. Maggie promptly knelt down and offered her hand, knuckles first, like she was trying to attract the attention of one of her own, much less scary-looking, canines. Joe deigned to sniff it. A moment later, he was slobbering all over her palm, tail wagging with delight as she used her other hand to start scratching behind his ears.

“Most people are a lot less relaxed about Joe,” said Dr. Abbey, rejoining the rest of us. She’d shed her rifle somewhere between the door and the lab floor, but she was still wearing the lab coat. At least some of the overhead lights must have been using George’s beloved blacklight frequencies, because the fabric fluoresced slightly in the glare.

“Most people don’t like risking infection when they don’t have to,” said Kelly.

“Well, those people have sticks shoved half a mile up their asses,” said Dr. Abbey. “Besides, Joe’s no threat. He’s immune, aren’t you, sweetheart?” The mastiff looked around at the sound of his name, tail still wagging frantically back and forth.

The rest of us, with the exception of Maggie—who was still deeply involved in her dog-worshipping duties—turned to stare at her. Surprisingly, it was Alaric who found his voice first, asking, “Are you serious? Immune? But he’s got to weigh more than sixty pounds. How can he possibly be immune?”nt>

Dr. Abbey shrugged. “He’s got the canine forms of five reservoir conditions, and the initial signs of developing a sixth. He’s never going to be a daddy, since the fourth one he developed was testicular Kellis-Amberlee—I had to have him neutered after that, poor guy—but he’s never going to amplify fully, either. He’s immune.”

My thoughts raced as I tried to absorb her words. It didn’t help that George was shouting in my head, demanding answers and denying the possible truth of Dr. Abbey’s claims at the same time. Kelly turned to look at Dr. Abbey, her mouth moving silently as she tried to form a protest that wasn’t willing to come out. Even Becks was just staring, looking as surprised as I’d ever seen her. That was saying something, because Becks doesn’t do surprised. No one who’s done field time as both a Newsie and an Irwin goes around being easy to knock off balance.

Maggie looked up from her enthusiastic worship of Joe, a narrow line forming between her eyebrows as she considered Dr. Abbey. “Five reservoir conditions in one dog?” Dr. Abbey nodded. “But how? I’ve never heard of anything, canine or human, developing more than one.”

“Oh, that part was simple,” said Dr. Abbey, and beamed. This smile was pure professional pride. “I induced them.”