house.
Mac blinked, holding his place like a soldier on stakeout. As long as Mac had his family, he was all right. But still, her dog was Ivy’s biggest problem right now.
He wouldn’t attack anyone, even a menacing growl was above Mac’s pay grade, as her dad liked to put it, but Mac wouldn’t let Ivy out of his sight either. If not for that one aspect of his personality, which had never presented a problem before for Ivy—she actually found it kind of sweet—she could’ve snuck out. Gone somewhere to get help fighting the intruder.
Not with Mac, though. Ivy couldn’t trust him to get out of the house unnoticed. His claws would click once they moved off these boards and onto the slate part of the floor. The cold, hard part Ivy hadn’t liked from the moment they moved in, and now hated for a really good reason. Mac didn’t do it as often these days, but he might even give a happy yelp upon catching a whiff of the outdoors.
Although the look in Mac’s eyes told Ivy he wouldn’t do that. He knew something was wrong, even if he couldn’t do anything about it.
Another stupid sob, louder this time. Ivy put her hand over her mouth.
What a crazy idea, needing her dog to defend them. Of all the complaints Ivy had, things that ticked her off about living here, some horror movie scenario that depended on isolation had never occurred to her. Ivy realized, with a perspective that felt altogether new, that she didn’t come from a scared family, nor a particularly imaginative one either. Neither of her parents had ever laid out far-fetched scenarios for Ivy to worry about. Or made up rules about stranger danger like other kids were taught. Ivy’s mom was calm, capable, and confident. And her dad? He was just plain strong.
Ivy couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to realize.
Where was her dad?
He’d only be doing nothing while some huge guy stood over her mother if he’d already been outmatched. Which Ivy once would’ve had trouble believing, except now fairy tales had turned real in one blink of an eye, and almost any possibility seemed likely. Even something happening to her father.
She gagged, harsh and sour.
If she could just get out, she’d go get help, drive for a working phone, or for the police. Ivy hadn’t started really practicing yet, just loops up and down their long driveway, but she’d watched enough of her friends. First step, find the keys to one of the cars.
Her mom’s purse would be upstairs.
And so was Ivy’s sleek, gleaming, always connected computer.
She looked down at Mac. For years he had been like an extension of her own body, and when Ivy started to move, so did he.
—
They crept back up to the second floor, Ivy glad for once to have the muffling acoustics of this house on her side.
The hall that led past the bedrooms felt longer than ever. She and Mac wouldn’t be heard downstairs, footfalls overhead, but what if the big guy decided to come up?
Ivy inched her head around, taking a look over her shoulder.
Shadows fell in a way they never had before, cast down from the ceiling fixtures and lying low on the floor. There were cones of light on the smooth gray walls, and the photos her mom collected, nature shots mostly, seemed to leap out of their frames, coming crazily to life. A snowy tip of mountaintop looked like a single extracted tooth. Branches stirred, scissoring the sky. An alpine lake lay as unblinking as an eye.
Ivy shivered in her thin top. It was her favorite, but it seemed worse than silly to have chosen this one now that she’d have to go outside without a chance to find her coat.
She didn’t have to make it far. She could blast the heat in the car.
Mac pushed forward a step, moving through air as if it were solid, and his boldness freed Ivy’s gaze. She bent over her dog, rumpling his fur with quaking hands. Mac nudged her with his nose, cold and wet, and Ivy began to move on.
Was that a hump of shoulder appearing over the rise of the
Mac blinked, holding his place like a soldier on stakeout. As long as Mac had his family, he was all right. But still, her dog was Ivy’s biggest problem right now.
He wouldn’t attack anyone, even a menacing growl was above Mac’s pay grade, as her dad liked to put it, but Mac wouldn’t let Ivy out of his sight either. If not for that one aspect of his personality, which had never presented a problem before for Ivy—she actually found it kind of sweet—she could’ve snuck out. Gone somewhere to get help fighting the intruder.
Not with Mac, though. Ivy couldn’t trust him to get out of the house unnoticed. His claws would click once they moved off these boards and onto the slate part of the floor. The cold, hard part Ivy hadn’t liked from the moment they moved in, and now hated for a really good reason. Mac didn’t do it as often these days, but he might even give a happy yelp upon catching a whiff of the outdoors.
Although the look in Mac’s eyes told Ivy he wouldn’t do that. He knew something was wrong, even if he couldn’t do anything about it.
Another stupid sob, louder this time. Ivy put her hand over her mouth.
What a crazy idea, needing her dog to defend them. Of all the complaints Ivy had, things that ticked her off about living here, some horror movie scenario that depended on isolation had never occurred to her. Ivy realized, with a perspective that felt altogether new, that she didn’t come from a scared family, nor a particularly imaginative one either. Neither of her parents had ever laid out far-fetched scenarios for Ivy to worry about. Or made up rules about stranger danger like other kids were taught. Ivy’s mom was calm, capable, and confident. And her dad? He was just plain strong.
Ivy couldn’t believe it had taken her this long to realize.
Where was her dad?
He’d only be doing nothing while some huge guy stood over her mother if he’d already been outmatched. Which Ivy once would’ve had trouble believing, except now fairy tales had turned real in one blink of an eye, and almost any possibility seemed likely. Even something happening to her father.
She gagged, harsh and sour.
If she could just get out, she’d go get help, drive for a working phone, or for the police. Ivy hadn’t started really practicing yet, just loops up and down their long driveway, but she’d watched enough of her friends. First step, find the keys to one of the cars.
Her mom’s purse would be upstairs.
And so was Ivy’s sleek, gleaming, always connected computer.
She looked down at Mac. For years he had been like an extension of her own body, and when Ivy started to move, so did he.
—
They crept back up to the second floor, Ivy glad for once to have the muffling acoustics of this house on her side.
The hall that led past the bedrooms felt longer than ever. She and Mac wouldn’t be heard downstairs, footfalls overhead, but what if the big guy decided to come up?
Ivy inched her head around, taking a look over her shoulder.
Shadows fell in a way they never had before, cast down from the ceiling fixtures and lying low on the floor. There were cones of light on the smooth gray walls, and the photos her mom collected, nature shots mostly, seemed to leap out of their frames, coming crazily to life. A snowy tip of mountaintop looked like a single extracted tooth. Branches stirred, scissoring the sky. An alpine lake lay as unblinking as an eye.
Ivy shivered in her thin top. It was her favorite, but it seemed worse than silly to have chosen this one now that she’d have to go outside without a chance to find her coat.
She didn’t have to make it far. She could blast the heat in the car.
Mac pushed forward a step, moving through air as if it were solid, and his boldness freed Ivy’s gaze. She bent over her dog, rumpling his fur with quaking hands. Mac nudged her with his nose, cold and wet, and Ivy began to move on.
Was that a hump of shoulder appearing over the rise of the
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