Legend of the Ghost Dog (5 page)

“What about it?” I asked.

“It's not even a story, really,” Quin said. “He just said that people have seen something out where the trees grow thickest. The legend goes you're mostly likely to see it when the northern lights are in the sky, but I've heard of people seeing stuff in the middle of the day too. Some kind of phantom or wraith, they usually say. Watching them. Nobody seems to agree just what it is — wild animal, wolf, something like that. I just know that over the years people have seen it, longer than any one animal should be able to stay alive, and I've heard it described just like that — dark, and you never quite get a glimpse of it. People call it Shadow.”

Quin twisted her braid around one hand, watching me with clear blue eyes.

I felt the familiar chill creep up my spine. I had told Quin I wasn't crazy, but secretly I had to kind of wonder. Anyone would.

But now I knew other people had seen it too. Other people had felt watched. Whatever it was, the Shadow was real.

“Weird that you encountered it two days in a row, though,” Quin added. “You had Henry with you both times?”

I nodded.

“The Shadow thing could be drawn to the dog. Dogs have a really distinctive energy. Other animals can sense it.”

“You think this … Shadow … is haunting my dog?” I asked.

“I don't know. Maybe. It's not something I can figure out by thinking about it. I'd have to see it.”

“Oh,” I said, disappointed.

“Take me there,” Quin suggested.

“Really? Right now?” I asked.

She nodded.

“But … I can't just go off right now. Jack is still asleep. I practically had to swear out an affidavit to my mom before we left, saying I'd keep an eye on him. And, believe me, you wouldn't want him tagging along. And he's got homework.”

“But you just said he's asleep now,” Quin pointed out.

“Well, yeah,” I said. “He pretty much never wakes up if I don't dump something on him.”

Quin glanced at her watch.

“It's only nine thirty,” she said. “We can be there and back before he wakes up. Your mom can't expect you to keep an eye on him while he's sleeping, can she? Get Henry and take me to the spot, and let's see if it happens again.”

“I just … I mean, Jack's a really sound sleeper, but still — I don't know.”

“Did anyone specifically say not to leave him alone at all, even if he was sleeping?” Quin pressed.

I hesitated.

“No,” I said.

“So geez, what's the problem? It's not like we're in some big city here — there's no one around for miles. He'll be fine. And if you already have to spend half your day watching him, shouldn't you grab the chance to get out while you have it?”

Everything Quin said was true, but I still had an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. And yet … I really wanted to know what was going on near that creek. I wanted to know why Shadow was there. What Shadow was. And I didn't want to go back by myself. This might be the only chance I'd have for a while to go with Quin. I spent so much time taking care of my father and brother — what was the harm in slipping out while Jack was sleeping?

“Well, maybe if we walk really fast,” I said.

Quin was already on her feet.

“I'll leave a note,” I added. “Not that he'll wake up, but still. I'll feel better.”

I grabbed some paper and a pen from my dad's office and explained in huge block print that Quin and I were taking Henry on a quick walk to stretch his legs, and we'd be right back.

“What are you writing, a novel?” Quin said, sticking her head into the room. “Come on.”

I left the note stuck to the refrigerator — the one place I was sure Jack would go first if he woke up. There was nothing to tape it up with so I wedged it into the handle, wishing Quin wouldn't rush me so much.

But at the same time I couldn't help feeling excited to finally be doing something for myself — something I wanted to do that didn't involve making dinner or keeping Jack company or any of the other things I did on a daily basis when Mom wasn't around to take care of them. Her job with the law firm was really important, and I was proud of her, but these days it seemed like she was away more than she was home. Sometimes I got tired of acting like an adult.

Right now, as I zipped up my fleece and pulled the front door quietly closed behind me, I knew I was definitely not acting grown-up. More like selfish and maybe even a little childish.

What surprised me was how good that felt.

“How can you not know? Either this is the place or it isn't,” Quin said impatiently.

“I think it is,” I said, looking back down the stretch of trail we'd just hiked over. “Almost. Maybe just two more minutes up the hill.”

Henry was walking quietly by my side, which was a little unusual for him unless he was tired. But he didn't seem to be freaking out, or even just sensing anything unusual.

“That's what you said two minutes ago,” Quin grumbled, thrusting her hands into her faded blue parka. She walked slightly ahead of me, her long, fat braid swinging from side to side.

She'd been getting progressively grumpier since we'd left the house. I was starting to rethink this whole plan.

“Wait,” I cried, holding my hand up.

I could see a faint trail branching off to the right, sloping uphill.

“This is it,” I said pointing. “This is where Henry took off. The first time that thing was around, it was just on the other side of that hill.”

“Yeah?” Quin asked, her expression brightening. “So what are we waiting for?”

We both veered off onto the second path, trudging double time now that we knew we were almost there. She was slightly in front of me, and I practically had to jog to keep her from getting farther ahead.

When she reached the crest of the hill, Quin came to such an abrupt halt that I slammed into her and almost stepped on Henry.

“Oof,” I said. “You could have —”

Quin shushed me. Then she pointed at a spot edged by low shrubs and vines, still coated with a morning frost.

It was the same place I'd found Henry cowering. I looked at my beagle. He was stock-still — almost rigid, but he didn't seem afraid now — and his eyes were locked on Quin. When I looked at her, I saw that she was returning the dog's gaze. It was almost like they were having a kind of conversation.

She might not be crazy, but this girl was definitely weird.

After a moment Quin leaned down and ran her hand over Henry's head, just once. His ears softened and his posture relaxed. Quin stood up, walked down the hill, glanced around, then fixed her gaze on a spot beyond a huge cluster of shrubs and willow bushes. She took several determined steps forward, pushing through the undergrowth, which seemed to simply close behind her, swallowing her so that she completely disappeared from view.

It was absolutely silent. Even the breeze seemed to fall away. I felt a chill creep up my spine.

“Quin?” I called.

Nothing.

I pulled Henry forward, catching my boot on a tangle of brush and feeling the painful twinge of a muscle pull.

“Quin?” I called again.

I could hear nothing but the sound of branches scraping against my jeans as I forced my way through the bushes as Quin had done. Henry had less trouble, since he was closer to the ground, but the leash kept getting tangled. The more I pushed forward, the thicker the tangle of branches and undergrowth seemed to become. Where in the world had Quin gone?

Feeling panic rise in my throat, I pushed forward twice as hard, ignoring the sharp branches poking at my legs and slapping at my arms. The leash caught on something and I tugged it free. All I seemed to be doing was working myself deeper into what felt like an enormous snare of roots and limbs and leaves. I felt as if the branches were grabbing me, clutching at me even as I shoved them away. I was just about to scream Quin's name at the top of my lungs when Henry and I pushed free of the mesh of plants and stumbled forward into a clearing.

Poking out of the trees that encircled the clearing was a rotting old structure — something that once, a very long time ago, might have been a cabin. Quin was standing several feet away from it. I almost yelled with relief at the sight of her.

“Didn't you hear me calling you? You just disappeared — I was scared!” I exclaimed.

She didn't answer me. She didn't even turn around to look at me. She just stood there, staring at a dark hole in the front of the cabin that appeared to be the remains of a doorway. Something about the way she looked, like she was in some kind of a trance, unnerved me. I marched over, pulling my reluctant beagle along, and grabbed her arm.

“Quin!”

She turned her face toward me, and I had just enough time to register how pale her skin had grown under cold-flushed cheeks when I heard a low, dangerous growl.

Now I understood why Quin had frozen. I cinched Henry's leash absolutely tight, so that he couldn't move even an inch from me. Anyone who spent time hiking would instinctively stop moving when they heard that sound. Rule number one, stay still. Rule number two, figure out where it is, and what it is. If it is a bear, make a lot of noise and move off. If it is a wolf … We didn't have wolves back home. I had no idea what I was supposed to do if I crossed paths with one.

The growl came again, deep and menacing. My eyes followed the sound, and suddenly I found the source, a low dark shape in the remains of the cabin doorway. My heart started pounding as I caught the glimpse of fur and paws. This was no Shadow. I could see it now. Definitely a wolf.

“Easy, boy,” Quin said, taking a small, slow step forward.

Was she nuts? Who in their right mind would try to sweet-talk a wolf?

“Quin, no,” I tried to say, but no sound came out at all.

“Easy,” she said again, taking a second small step forward.

There was a terrible snarl and I braced for the shock of the thing launching itself at Quin's throat. We were both dead, that much was clear.

But the wolf stayed where it was, in the doorway. It snarled again. As my eyes adapted to the darkness beyond the cabin's entrance, I could see the animal was baring its teeth, eyes blazing and ears flattened in an unmistakable threat. But still the wolf did not attack Quin. I could see now that the animal's eyes were pale blue, and its face black. Its head was up and its chest barrel-shaped. I could also make out a tail, curled over its back. I realized all at once I had made a mistake. This was no wolf.

“It's a dog,” I whispered.

This was not necessarily good news. It was a dog, yes. But a huge, angry, snarling dog in the middle of nowhere. We were probably still dead.

“Easy, boy,” Quin murmured, taking another clearly suicidal step toward the animal.

The dog, who had been standing, sat down in the center of the doorway.

“That's better,” Quin said quietly. “It's okay, boy. We're friends.”

“Just be careful,” I whispered.

Quin extended one hand toward the dog, which definitely did not qualify as being careful as far as I was concerned. His ears flattened slightly, and he got to his feet again. She pulled her hand back a little, turned it palm up, and let it hover there. I hung on to Henry with all my might, but there was no need. He was pressing into my leg, his head down, his body in the submissive position he took whenever there was clearly an alpha dog around.

The huge dog's ears came forward again, and his tail began to wag very slightly.

“He likes you,” I said, wondering again why Quin seemed to have such a strange power over dogs.

“Or he's hungry,” Quin replied.

The dog wagged his tail again, a small wag. Quin extended her hand just a bit closer, her eyes on his. I thought she was pushing her luck now. Something was going to give. Henry was going to bark or the dog was going to pounce. But neither of those things happened. Without warning, the dog turned and retreated into the cabin. In a flash, Quin went in after him, disappearing into the dark interior.

Here we go again
, I thought. I wasn't sure if Quin was really brave, really stupid, or both. But I'd followed her this far, and her instincts seemed good. Feeling around in my
side pocket for the little flashlight I always carried, I went through the doorway after her, still keeping Henry on a tight leash. He resisted a little this time, clearly not too keen on the idea of going into this gloomy place.

It was dark and freezing cold inside the ruined building. The air felt damp and smelled of wood, mildew and decaying leaves. I could just make out Quin in front of me. Henry pressed tight against my leg, trembling slightly. I switched the flashlight on and Quin jumped slightly as the space was filled with light.

“Flashlight,” Quin said. “Nice thinking.”

“Never hurts to be prepared,” I said. I shone the light in a circle around us. The walls of the cabin were more or less intact, but there was a pile of rubble in the back where part of the roof had caved in. I looked up. The framework remained and was almost entirely covered with vines, but through the leaves I could see glimpses of the sky.

“Do you see him?” Quin asked.

I trained the light on one corner, then carefully swept it in an arc around the entire perimeter.

“Is he behind the pile of junk?” I asked.

“Here, boy! Come on, boy!” Quin called, walking over to what was left of the roof. I walked over to the pile of rubble and stood next to her. “He's not back there,” Quin said.

At that moment, we heard a low, sinister snarling. I couldn't see the animal anywhere, but I knew dogs well enough to know that this snarl meant business. We were being warned away. We were being threatened. This was an animal who wanted us to leave, or we would be attacked.

“Where is it?” Quin whispered, frozen in place.

The snarl grew higher, uglier. I could imagine the black dog with his teeth bared and his pale blue eyes blazing. I was scared, and something about the air seemed to go strange, as if it was charged with electricity.

“We need to get out of here now,” I whispered back, holding Henry's leash absolutely tight so he could not move an inch. Quin nodded, just barely.

Our arms pressed against each other, we slowly and carefully backed out of the cabin, pulling Henry along — though the beagle was only too happy to get outside. The moment we passed through the old door, the snarling stopped. Almost as if someone had hit a mute button.

Just to be safe, we put another twenty feet or so between ourselves and the cabin door.

“I don't think he's coming after us,” Quin said.

“That was really scary,” I told her.

Quin was watching the cabin with a worried expression.

“I wonder … what was up with that? What was he so protective of?” she asked.

“I don't know,” I said. “But I do know that I kind of want to get out of here, pronto.”

Quin looked at me like she'd just remembered something.

“How are we for time?”

I pulled up my sleeve so I could read my watch, and exclaimed with dismay.

“Uh-oh. It's ten of eleven,” I said. “We've got to get back to Jack.”

Quin shot one more look in the direction of the cabin, her eyebrows furrowed. Then she adjusted her pack on her shoulders and nudged me.

“We can make it in twenty minutes,” Quin said, pushing past me. “But I hope you like running,”

“I hate it,” I said.

Nonetheless, with visions of a hysterical Jack filling my head, I matched Quin's steady jog, trying to talk and catch my breath at the same time.

“I really thought that dog was going to attack us,” I said. “But I'm thinking now he was just really afraid of something. He was obviously cold and hungry. I just feel so bad leaving him like that. If we could have gotten a little closer,
maybe I could have looped my scarf around, used it as a leash.”

“What are you talking about?” Quin asked. She was nowhere near as out of breath as I was. I was a hiker, not a jogger. I slowed us down to a fast walk, which Henry also clearly preferred, now that we'd put a good distance between us and the mystery dog.

“Well, to bring him back, find out who he belongs to,” I said. “Give him something to eat. Call the humane society, something.”

Quin stopped and took my arm.

“Tee, there is no owner,” she said.

“How can you possibly know that?” I asked.

“Didn't you feel it?” she asked. “Don't you see?”

I stared at my new friend, waiting, realizing as she began to speak that I already knew.

“That wasn't anybody's lost dog. That was Shadow.”