Grasping the doorknob, he broke the lock with one quick flex and eased inside. The smell of urine and feces assaulted his nose. Abruptly, the barking stopped. Dragos followed the telltale sounds of scrabbling until he reached a shadowed bedroom. His keen eyesight could see very well by the dim light of a nearby streetlamp. Miss Creedy had been tidy. The bed was made, the drawers and closets closed.

He could hear the stressed breathing and terrified heartbeat of the dog cowering underneath the bed. Going down on one knee, he infused his voice with Power.

“You’re safe,” he said. “Come out now.”

It was a mundane creature. Normally, it wouldn’t understand a total stranger who chose to carry on a conversation with it, but the magical compulsion in Dragos’s words brought it out from underneath the bed. It stank. When he laid his hand on its shivering back, he could clearly feel its spine and ribcage underneath the tangled fur.

A quick scan told him several things. It was not a young dog, perhaps nine or ten years old. It weighed around twenty-five pounds but should weigh closer to thirty, but while it was suffering from hunger and stress, its underlying constitution was sound.

“Good dog,” he told it. He set down the Tupperware container and opened the lid. When he offered it a piece of bacon, the dog hung its head and refused to take it. “Eat.”

More trembling underneath his hand. Timidly the dog took the bacon from his fingers. The taste must have triggered its appetite because it wolfed the piece down. Dragos offered another piece. This one was snatched out of his fingers and inhaled. He fed the dog a third piece. Then a fourth.

A soft footstep sounded behind him. Pia had slipped into the house. He said telepathically, Could you bring some water?

Of course.

Within moments, she stepped into the bedroom carrying a bowl of fresh water, which she set down beside Dragos’s foot. The dog’s trembling had increased at her presence. Moving the bowl closer to it, Dragos said, “Drink.”

It obeyed, lunging at the water in ravenous gulps.

When it lifted its dripping muzzle from the bowl, Dragos said, “Good dog.” He cast a sleep spell, and the dog folded onto the floor with an exhausted sigh.

Pia’s voice sounded thick with unshed tears. “That was excruciating.”

“It didn’t want to eat. I had to compel it.” Dragos straightened out of his crouch.

“I’m not surprised. It’s scared to death.” Pia moved to the doorway. “I’m going to turn on the light.”

A moment later, light flooded the room. Together they regarded the sleeping animal on the floor. Dragos said, “It really is the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen.”