Cormel waved impatiently, and his scar-covered aide headed for the door. It creaked open, and the aide jumping back with a cry when a scruffy white dog skittered in, followed by two vampires.

“Rache!” Jenks shouted, and I yanked my bag to me, digging for my original bulky but true strong-magic detection amulet.

“It’s a dog!” I shouted as the two men chased him into the bedroom amid the hoots and derisive comments from the watching thugs.

“Hey!” someone yelped. “Watch it! No! That way!”

Buddy barked and ran back into the living room. His feet were leaving muddy prints on the carpet, and panicked by the reaching hands, he skittered under Trent’s chair. The vampires slid to a stop, unwilling to reach under Trent, sitting with his ankle on a knee and his hands laced. Buddy growled, but it was a frightened noise.

“Relax, it’s a dog,” I said again, trying not to watch Bis crawling in along the ceiling. He’d been downstairs with Nina, and if he was here now, then everything was okay.

“I can tell it’s a dog,” Cormel said sourly as his men clustered around the one who’d been bitten, his hand cradled protectively close. Felix’s eyes had dilated to a full, hungry black. I frowned, anger finally finding a toehold in my anxiety and shoving it down.

“I mean, it’s Buddy, the dog that lives here, not Luke or Marsha under a transformation curse,” I said, and Cormel’s eyes narrowed even as he beckoned to one of his people.

“Remove him,” Cormel said, pointing. “He belongs in the pound.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, there, vamp boy.” Jenks darted to the center of the room. “This is his turf, not yours. If someone got bitten, that’s not the dog’s fault.”

Trent dropped his hand below the bottom of the chair, and Buddy stopped growling to sniff it. “He’s probably just hungry,” Trent said, and I watched, surprised when he stood and went into the kitchen. “You hungry, Buddy?” he called, voice high, and Buddy thumped his tail.

“Everyone leave him alone,” I said when Buddy slinked out from under Trent’s chair, skulking into the kitchen when Trent began opening cupboards, looking for his food.

“We don’t have time for this,” Cormel said dryly.

“You want him out, right?” Trent’s expression was calm as he searched. “That’s not going to happen until he trusts you. He’s probably not eaten for days.” His attention went down and he smiled. “You need a bath, Buddy. Where have you been?”

Jenks hovered over them, and I watched a camouflaged Bis inch into the kitchen, intrigued. “Dumpster, by the smell of it,” Jenks said, fingers pinching his nose. “And the river. Cats are better, even if they do try to eat you. They at least keep themselves clean.”

Trent found a bag of food and Buddy whined, nails clicking. “Good boy. Here you go.”