Chapter 10
We had set up Mochi’s new cage in the library. It was massive, and he was already playing with the new toys inside. Tara stayed behind, as she hated boats and wanted to play with Mochi a little while we headed out.
Our motorboat skimmed across the glittering bay. Sunlight bounced off the water, making the sea look like it was full of scattered coins. Hudson took the wheel. Daniel said he wasn’t confident in operating a boat anymore, and we all agreed it was safer if Hudson gave him a refresher.
We hadn’t gone far. The cliffs of the Breakers were still clearly visible, the house perched above like a crown. But it already felt like a world away, like we were on a trip within a trip.
The wind slapped at my face as the boat picked up speed. I held on to my hat, smiling into the sun, surrounded by shimmering blue. Warmth hit my cheeks, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. I leaned back, my eyes closed, letting the moment soak into my skin.
Then the boat slowed. Not a jolt. Just enough to snap me out of my trance.
Daniel was next to Hudson, watching him steer, when Hudson straightened abruptly. His face was pale.
“What is it?” I asked, following Hudson’s gaze.
A blur of white darted across the massive rocks surrounding the Breakers.
“Rascal!” Hudson’s voice cracked over the sound of the waves.
The little dog stood stiff on a boulder, barking sharply and wildly in panic. He edged forward, testing the drop with his front paws.
“Rascal, no! Stay!” Hudson yelled.
“Rascal!” Daniel joined him. “Get back! Stay!”
But the little dog didn’t listen. He let out one more frantic bark, shrill and heart-wrenching, then launched himself into the sea.
“Stupid dog!” Hudson cursed, already swinging the boat around hard.
My heart climbed into my throat. Water sprayed into the air as we surged toward the cliff. We reached the rocks just as Rascal’s white head dipped under the surface and didn’t come back up.
“Rascal!” Hudson shouted, yanking the boat to a stop. He bolted to the edge, his eyes locked on the water, ready to dive in.
“Hudson, wait!” Daniel reached for him. “You know how dangerous the current is near the rocks.”
But Hudson launched himself overboard, disappearing beneath the surface.
“Hudson!” Daniel yelled, scanning the water. “Hudson!”
Everything inside me clenched. I stood frozen, my arms locked across my chest.
“Oh, God.” The words barely made it past my lips.
Daniel moved, one hand gripping the railing. “I’m going after him.”
Then a splash.
Hudson burst through the surface, gasping, wild-eyed. Rascal squirmed weakly in his arms, coughing and kicking, his small paws barely moving.
“I’ve got him!” Hudson shouted. But they were too close to the rocks, farther from the boat. The current wasn’t dragging them out to sea. It was dragging them sideways, ready to slam them straight into the cliff.
Daniel maneuvered the boat in an instant, sliding it between Hudson and the cliffside just in time. The current did the rest, smashing them against the hull. Rascal let out a sharp yelp, his paws scrabbling for grip. Hudson winced and almost slipped under again, but he held on.
“Help me!” Daniel said and reached down.
I was right beside him. Together, we hauled up Hudson, who was still cradling Rascal tightly against his chest.
As soon as they were in, I took the white little dog from him. Hudson collapsed onto the floor of the boat, soaked and coughing, blood pouring from a deep gash in his leg.
“He accidentally clawed me,” Hudson gasped between breaths.
Daniel crouched beside him. “You’re okay. Breathe.”
Rascal whimpered low against my chest. His soaked fur was cold and clung to my shirt. He shook like a leaf, staring back toward the cliffs like something had chased him straight to the sea. Something had terrified him. Something more than falling in the water.
Daniel reached for the throttle. “Let’s go.”
Back at the house, Tara met us at the front door, her face pale.
“What happened?” she asked. Her eyes darted between Hudson and the wet dog in my arms.
“Rascal,” Hudson said. “He jumped into the water. Tried to get to us.”
“But the dogs can’t get down to the boat launch. There’s a gate at the top of the stairs,” Tara said, confused.
“He wasn’t by the launch,” Daniel said, helping Hudson onto the couch in the library. “He was on the boulders.”
“But they never go down there. They’re scared of the cliff,” she muttered, already hurrying off. A moment later, she returned with towels and a first aid kit.
Daniel rushed off for dry clothes, while Tara and I wrapped towels tight around Hudson’s shoulders. His wound didn’t look too bad.
“Can you dry Rascal?” Hudson asked.
“Of course,” I said, sitting next to Hudson on the couch. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around Rascal without moving him far from my chest. He stayed burrowed there, trembling, pushing closer like he couldn’t get warm enough.
“Something must have scared him.” Tara knelt by Hudson and began cleaning the wound. “Damn dog. Why did you do that to your dad?” She reached out and gently pet Rascal.
From the corner, Mochi was watching.
“Stupid dogs,” he suddenly squawked.
My head snapped toward him. “What did you just say?”
“Stupid dogs,” he repeated. “Die.”
I rose and gently passed Rascal into Tara’s arms. She eased down beside Hudson as he took over, carefully wrapping a bandage around his calf. “It’s not very deep,” Hudson said. “I’ll be all right.”
I moved toward Mochi’s cage. “Mochi, please don’t say that.”
He fluffed his grey feathers. “Stupid dogs. Stupid dogs. Die.”
“Hey,” I scolded him. “That’s not okay. ‘Stupid’ and ‘die’ are bad words.”
Mochi tilted his head, blinking. “Stupid dogs,” he repeated in his clipped, robotic tone. “Woman. In the basement. Die stupid dogs. Die.”
My brows pulled together. “What?”
“Woman. In the basement. Die stupid dogs. Die.”
His voice was tense, clipped. Nothing like his usual self. It was more agitated. Nervous.
I turned just as Daniel walked back in, his arms full of clothes. He froze midstep. The color drained from his face as his eyes locked on mine.
“I’m so sorry,” I said quickly, flustered. “He must be stressed. He’s never—”
But Daniel didn’t seem to hear me.
“Emily, your shirt.”
I looked down, and everything stopped.
Blood. Bright red blood had soaked into my clothes like paint. For a second, I thought I was the one bleeding. Maybe I just hadn’t felt it yet.
Then it hit me.
“It’s not mine.” I rushed toward Hudson. “It’s Rascal’s.”
Tara quickly peeled back the towel. Rascal had gone quiet. Too quiet. His tiny body was limp now, barely moving. The towel had been thick enough to hide it, but once she unwrapped him, there was so much blood.
Hudson lurched forward, his face panicked. He searched Rascal’s belly, hands moving fast until he found it: a deep gash, raw and bleeding.
Daniel didn’t wait. “The vet is fifteen miles from here. I’ll get the car!”
He was gone before the last words had left his mouth.
Hudson stood and hurried toward the front of the house, Rascal clutched tightly to his chest.
We followed fast.
Daniel pulled up to the front steps in a blur of silver. The car jerked to a halt.
Hudson yanked the door open and slid in with Rascal still pressed against him. “You stay here with Emily,” he told Tara.
She nodded quickly. “Go.”
Tires kicked up dust as the car sped down the long road toward the mainland.
Tara and I stood frozen at the top of the steps, watching the car shrink until it was gone.