The Maker cocked his head. “You
know, I don't know.” He turned. “Brutus?"
I heard the yap of a dog somewhere in the back of the mobile home and the skittering tap of dog claws on linoleum. Emerging from the kitchen was a small, yellow Pomeranian. The tiny dog stopped next to the Maker and sat expectantly.
I knelt down and put out my hands. “Hi, Brutus!" The little dog turned, stared at me, and somewhere in his tiny brain recognized me. He rushed across the floor to me with his pink tongue hanging crooked out of his mouth. Snatching him up, I held the Pom in my arm and gently stroked his well-groomed hair. He smiled and panted in approval. Vampires and dogs didn't usually agree. Brutus was the exception. "Cute dog,” Toby said, reaching for the Pom. The little dog bared his teeth and growled at my partner. Toby retracted his hand quickly with an odd look. Usually very good with animals, this was a strange experience for him.
I eyed Toby warily.
"Sorry. He's picky,” the Maker explained. “Brutus is very selective about the people he lets touch him." "Looks like a cotton ball,” Karl commented. "He's bigger than you,” I noted quickly. The Maker laughed. “What can I do for you, Rosy?" "I need a favor,” I replied.
"Anything for you.” He smiled.
Nearly eight years ago, I had rescued Brutus from a clan of Szyss Demons who were collecting dogs to eat. It was one of my first cases for the Syndicate, and had left the Maker in my debt. His hygiene and personal habits made him somewhat unacceptable in social circles and Brutus was his only true friend. He was one of those brilliant people who had a hard time relating to people. Of course, his special aptitude for building things made him invaluable to the Syndicate, thus explaining why a Seeker was charged with finding a lost dog. I didn't mind. I liked Brutus. The little dog looked up and licked my chin affectionately, and he liked me. I visited as much as I could to keep the Maker company and to see Brutus. "Karl, would you mind taking the Sprite into the back bedroom?” I asked, pointing to the hallway at the back of the kitchen.
Toby handed the Goblin the Sprite's jar. "Yeah,” Karl answered, “sure.” Accepting the jar, he cradled it in his little green hands. “It's just you and me now,” the Goblin warned, although it seemed to lack any real threat thanks to his falsetto.
I heard the yap of a dog somewhere in the back of the mobile home and the skittering tap of dog claws on linoleum. Emerging from the kitchen was a small, yellow Pomeranian. The tiny dog stopped next to the Maker and sat expectantly.
I knelt down and put out my hands. “Hi, Brutus!" The little dog turned, stared at me, and somewhere in his tiny brain recognized me. He rushed across the floor to me with his pink tongue hanging crooked out of his mouth. Snatching him up, I held the Pom in my arm and gently stroked his well-groomed hair. He smiled and panted in approval. Vampires and dogs didn't usually agree. Brutus was the exception. "Cute dog,” Toby said, reaching for the Pom. The little dog bared his teeth and growled at my partner. Toby retracted his hand quickly with an odd look. Usually very good with animals, this was a strange experience for him.
I eyed Toby warily.
"Sorry. He's picky,” the Maker explained. “Brutus is very selective about the people he lets touch him." "Looks like a cotton ball,” Karl commented. "He's bigger than you,” I noted quickly. The Maker laughed. “What can I do for you, Rosy?" "I need a favor,” I replied.
"Anything for you.” He smiled.
Nearly eight years ago, I had rescued Brutus from a clan of Szyss Demons who were collecting dogs to eat. It was one of my first cases for the Syndicate, and had left the Maker in my debt. His hygiene and personal habits made him somewhat unacceptable in social circles and Brutus was his only true friend. He was one of those brilliant people who had a hard time relating to people. Of course, his special aptitude for building things made him invaluable to the Syndicate, thus explaining why a Seeker was charged with finding a lost dog. I didn't mind. I liked Brutus. The little dog looked up and licked my chin affectionately, and he liked me. I visited as much as I could to keep the Maker company and to see Brutus. "Karl, would you mind taking the Sprite into the back bedroom?” I asked, pointing to the hallway at the back of the kitchen.
Toby handed the Goblin the Sprite's jar. "Yeah,” Karl answered, “sure.” Accepting the jar, he cradled it in his little green hands. “It's just you and me now,” the Goblin warned, although it seemed to lack any real threat thanks to his falsetto.