He opened the gate wider; if the dog wouldn’t come out on her own, Nick would just have to go in. The idea seemed simple enough in his mind: He would just walk over to Trygg, hook one finger under her collar, and pull—the dog would get the idea and follow. And the other seven dogs would just sit politely and watch their companion being manhandled by a stranger, after which they would all lick Nick’s face and present him with a framed certificate for a job well done.

Idiot.

They were dogs—big dogs—trained dogs, and he had no idea what they were trained to do if someone dared to invade their private domain. Whatever it was, it probably wouldn’t be pretty. He remembered Acheron taking him by the throat and pinning him to the ground—what part of the body were these dogs trained to attack? Nick closed the gate a little; he had body parts he would rather not see in a dog’s mouth.

Nick just stood there, helpless and frustrated, wondering what to do next.

In desperation he swung the gate open wide and looked directly into Trygg’s eyes. “Okay,” he said, “I don’t speak your language and you don’t speak mine—but I’m a smart guy and you’re a smart dog, so we should be able to work this thing out. I know you don’t speak English—at least I don’t think you do—but your master trained you to understand some very subtle gestures and expressions and body language. So I’m just going to talk to you the way I would anybody else, and I’m going to use the same inflection and the same mannerisms I normally use—and I’m just going to hope that you’ll somehow figure out what I mean. You ready? Okay, here goes: I’m afraid something has happened to your master— to Alena. I’m afraid she might be dead, and if she is, you’re the only one who can find her. I need you to come out of that kennel and help me, and I need you to do it right now. I want you to come out of there and sit right here beside me—see where I’m pointing? I want the rest of you dogs to stay where you are—that means you and you and especially you, big guy—this is just between Trygg and me. Okay, Trygg, that’s my whole spiel—now it’s up to you. Are you going to help me or not?”

He put his hands on his hips and waited. A few seconds later Trygg trotted out of the kennel, circled around behind him, and sat down by his side.

Nick started to say, “Good dog,” but somehow it sounded insulting. Instead he said, “I knew you’d listen to reason. Let’s get to work.”