Incident 4 This Is Not the Dog You’re Looking For
You ever get a text from someone and sit there, and stare at it, and think, how the actual fuck am I supposed to respond?
Ross got a lot of those texts. He’d developed a sixth sense of when a text had a deeper meaning, as if it were the tip of the iceberg that went far, far deeper than it should. This one promised to be a doozey.
Maybe we should go look for him?
Ross sighed, letting his head sit in his hands.
It was eight in the morning at this point; he’d been set to go to bed.
Turned out you could be a night owl and an early bird if your sleep schedule was messed up enough.
He was exhausted enough to consider ignoring the text.
Something about running on zero sleep in twenty-six hours might have something to do with that compulsion.
But this felt like it would bite him in the ass later.
Dammit. He liked for his mornings to be slow and quiet. He wanted the day to romance him a bit before it tried to fuck him.
He called Chloe.
“Oh, hi Ross,” Chloe greeted as if she hadn’t just sent a very cryptic and problematic text.
“Chloe,” Ross greeted in his best, calm service voice. “Do you mind telling me what you mean by that last text?”
“What text? Oh shit, I sent it to you by accident. I’m so sorry, you were sleeping, huh?”
“Not yet and I still want an explanation. Is there something up?”
“Uh…” The sound was drawn out, obviously a delaying tactic. “Well, uh, we kinda got a group text from Dunham? It was just this random group of letters. Like he kinda butt texted? But we tried calling and there’s no answer.”
Ross prayed for patience. It was slow in coming. “So, you think he’s in trouble—or potentially in trouble—but you didn’t inform me?”
“Well, we thought you were sleeping by now.”
Don’t pound your head against the wall, Ross cautioned himself. It would only put a dent in the wall and not help anything. “So, where is he?”
“That’s the thing, we don’t know. He mentioned something about going out and feeding some families, but that wouldn’t get him into trouble, would it?”
As far as Ross could tell, just breathing could get most of the clan into trouble. But he did see her point. Dunham was careful about feeding his families, and he normally knew the families’ routines. It was hard to see how he’d gotten into trouble doing that. “Is Keane still up?”
“I think so?”
“Okay. Keep calling Dunham and tell me if he picks up.”
“Should we go look for him?”
“Maybe, in a minute. I want to see if Keane can locate his phone. Could be Dunham’s driving or he just doesn’t hear it. Sit tight.” Ross hung up and called Keane, already reaching for the clothes he’d taken off two minutes ago.
The wizard answered on the third ring, sounding distracted. “Heya, Ross.”
“Keane. Dunham sent a weird text and now isn’t answering. I don’t know where he is. None of the werewolves seem to know either.” Ross switched the phone to the other ear with a smooth motion, tucking it in between ear and shoulder. “Can you track him for me?”
“Well now, that’s a problem fer sure. I can’t track the man himself—weres are beastly hard to track, what with them switching from man to beast, it throws havoc on the spell—but I can track his phone.”
“Do it. I’ll be at your place in five.”
“Sure thing.”
Ross stopped long enough to make a tall tumbler of coffee—as black as his soul, because it was clearly going to be a while before he could get back to bed. It was ridiculous, this whole week. Instead of being in a steady relationship with his pillow, he seemed to only have visiting rights.
Fortunately, Keane’s house wasn’t far away, just a walk across the street and one house down.
He knocked on the man’s door, getting an immediate response.
Keane opened it with one hand, shrugging into a jacket with the other.
He looked bleary around the edges, hair standing up on end.
Keane’s habit of all-night work binges made him resemble some mad scientist even at the best of times.
He’d recently showered, though, so he didn’t smell like molding death. So there was that. “Ready?”
“Yeah. Want me to drive, you navigate?”
“Sure. It’ll be easier that way.” Keane led the way around the front and to his slightly beat-up Jeep.
Ross slid into the driver’s seat and fired the engine up before carefully backing out.
He’d learned not to trust mirrors while in this neighborhood.
Some of the clan members were so short they disappeared out of sight entirely.
Even being morning, he was careful. Assumptions just got everyone into trouble.
“How long has Dunham been missing?” Keane asked even as he pulled out a wand and hovered the tip of it over his phone.
Ross kicked himself. He should have asked that. “Not long? I’m not sure, Chloe didn’t say. She didn’t sound panicked, though. Just worried because he wasn’t responding.”
“So likely not long. Alright, hopefully we can catch up to him in time.”
He didn’t often get to see Keane actively work magic, and Ross didn’t even pretend to understand how it worked.
The two magic users in the clan approached things in very different ways, which added to his confusion.
Keane seemed to look at spells more like a computer code, with very precise clauses and schematics.
Maria’s approach was more natural, where she invoked the energy to do as she wished using herbs and stones and rituals.
More of a magic-by-feel. Ross had no idea if she could use tracking spells.
But he did know trying to wake her up before 9 am would get him stabbed. In the eye. With the first sharp object at hand. Maria was not a morning person.
Ross darted glances as he drove them out of the neighborhood. “Can I ask what you’re doing?”
“Hmm?” Keane’s head came up for a second before the question penetrated. “Oh. I’m doing the magical equivalent of tracing a phone call. Sort of. Dunham’s phone is recognized as having a particular number, right? Well, that acts like an address for the spell. I’m searching for its address.”
“That’s neat.” And clever. Was this common practice or something Keane had devised?
“It’s saved us more than a few times, let me tell you. People get lost too easily.” Keane’s wand and phone both lit up in a faint aura. He put his wand flat in his hand and it immediately swiveled left. “That way.”
Ross turned left at the stop light, putting them onto a major road. They drove like that for a while, Keane giving him directions of ‘straight,’ ‘left,’ and ‘right’ as they drove toward the neighborhood Dunham had adopted as his own.
As they passed the burned-out shell of the old gas station, Ross gave it a lingering look.
He’d heard they were going to rebuild, but it hadn’t happened yet.
It was rather sad to see it like that, honestly.
He had some good memories of the place. It had been drudgery the first few months, sure, but he’d learned about the supernatural world there.
He’d met Glenn there. It gave Ross a sort of bittersweet feeling whenever he saw the charred remains.
“Slow down,” Keane cautioned. “I think we’re close.”
Ross slowed, pulling into a residential area with many apartment buildings. Most of them looked rundown, a poorer section neglected and ignored. Yes, this was definitely the right place to draw Dunham’s attention.
“Pull up to the curb. I think we’re right on top of it.”
The apartment building in question looked like the rest, weeds growing out of the cracks of the sidewalks, metal doors dented from kicks, one window covered with cardboard.
Keane hopped out without any regard for who might be watching.
Ross followed, hoping everyone was at school and work at this hour of the day. And not watching through a window.
Why were all supernatural beings so incautious? Even the wizards!
He was mostly worried about Dunham, who was clearly not nearby. The yards around the apartment complex were narrow, with nothing but dead grass to hide behind. He had a clear view most directions and saw no sight of a dog, much less a werewolf.
Keane groaned and sank abruptly to his heels. “Yup, here’s the phone.”
Ross looked over his shoulder to find that the phone had been dropped, a wide crack now in the screen.
It hid behind a clump of weeds at the base of a window, so obviously Dunham had been caught and dropped the phone in the process.
The first inklings of worry trickled through his sleep-deprived brain.
Ross knelt as well, touching his fingers to the area. “Keane, can you try tracking him? I know you said the spell doesn’t work right.”
“It gets confused because they shift so much, but I can try. I think we better get the pack over here.”
“Whoa. I do not want the full pack over here. I’ll call Chloe. One werewolf can figure out scent if we need to track him that way.” Like hell Ross wanted to deal with the incessant yipping and howling. A full pack on the hunt got ridiculous pretty quickly.
Chloe answered promptly with, “Did you find him?”
“Found his phone, not him. I’m not sure what went down. Can you come over here and see if you can track him? We’re at the projects’ housing.”
“Sure. Let me grab a few people—”
Ross was quick to nip this in the bud. “No, just you. I don’t think there was a fight here. No signs of a struggle. Calling on the full pack isn’t necessary.”
“Trust me, we track better if we have someone with us. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Ross stared at the phone, now dark after she ended the call, and sighed. He was worried about Dunham, true enough. But a bunch of yapping, excited wolves sounded like murder for his already sensitive head. He drank more coffee. “Well. This will be fun to figure out where he went.”
Keane pocketed the phone, brows drawn together in worry. “You don’t think someone was chasing him, do you?”
“I have no idea. But if he dropped his phone, isn’t it more likely he just had to go full dog for some reason?”