Page 32 of Last Call at the Doghouse

“Ornithophobia.”

“Well, I think I’ve got it.”

As they continued their walk Duncan looked back. “Right there with you, sugar.”

If she couldn’t squelch her fear of a little brown wren, how the hell was she going to lead an army against evil?

* * *

Mitch wasn’t sure what he’d expected from this step in the process, but this wasn’t it. They were met with puzzled expressions, mild concern, and ultimately an all-too-certain rejection of anything that might turn to violence. The residents of Mystic Springs weren’t soldiers, and they made no bones about it.

It wasn’t that they didn’t care, they simply didn’t want to get involved. He hadn’t been able to convince anyone that in the end they would have no choice.

The library had been a bust. If there was any help to be found there, it was in the secret section they’d need help accessing. The talkative librarian had kept them there for more than half an hour, rambling about this and that.

Armi’s cousins had been no help at all. The Benedict boys had families now; small children to take care of. It probably didn’t matter. Three grown men, and none of them possessed the kind of magical abilities that might actually be helpful in a battle. Still, something was off. Mitch had a hard time putting his finger on what was eating at him, but they’d seemed unusually averse to the idea of offering their cousin support. There were moments when it seemed they weren’t sure why they were so reluctant. It wasn’t in their nature to step back, to remove themselves from the action, but they did.

Even the police chief. That was a surprise. Mention a coming battle and you’d think the police chief would be eager to get involved. Not Travis Benedict.

Luke hadn’t even been able to tell Armi what she needed, and that seemed to throw him for a loop. That was his gift, seeing what others needed most. With Armi, nada. Cousin Mike might as well be a Non-Springer for all the help he could offer.

They could probably get a ton of volunteers from the old folks’ home, but was that really where they wanted to start?

Mitch muttered a foul word as they walked down the street, back toward the turn to the B&B. Maybe he should bring back the draft. A couple of people had mentioned that there were a handful of powerful school-age children. The concept was horrifying. No way would he put children in the line of fire.

Armi didn’t seem worried about their lack of success. She put her faith in these people much more than he did, figuring if the Springers weren’t willing to fight, that meant it wasn’t yet time for war.

He was more concerned that a number of Springers might end up on the opposing team.

“We need to focus our energy elsewhere,” Armi said.

“I’m open to suggestions,” Mitch grumbled.

“I don’t understand why sometimes there’s fire in my eyes. And while catching darts might be a cool bar trick, what good is it going to do me? Maybe we should focus on testing my new abilities. If I’m meant to have an army, it’ll come.”

Was he trying too hard to force things into place? Maybe. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to figure out exactly what Armi could do. She’d need to hone whatever skills she possessed, especially if he was her only ally. “Okay. That’s a plan I can live with.” For now, anyway. She still needed a fucking army!

A pack of dogs with a man at the lead ran down the middle of the street. No one seemed to consider this at all unusual. Some on the sidewalk stopped and waved. Mitch couldn’t tell if they were greeting the man or the dogs. A block down the way, and he could already see a few lifted canine heads and several perked-up ears. Would they sense that he was like them in many ways and feel the need to greet—or attack—him? Sure enough, the pack veered in his direction. The change was so gradual it took a moment for the man in the lead to notice. He looked back, silently nodded his head once, and the pack righted itself. The dogs gave him their full attention.

All but one. The bloodhound that ran alongside the man who was basically herding dogs down the middle of Main Street kept his eyes on Mitch. His glare wasn’t friendly or threatening, but it was piercing.

The bloodhound broke away from the pack and ran straight to Mitch, who responded by easing away from Armi. If there was an attack, he didn’t want her in the middle of it. But the bloodhound came to a stop and sat at Mitch’s feet, looked up, and studied him as if he were a curiosity.

He supposed he was.

“Hi, Silas,” Armi said casually.

Silas nodded his head, smiled, and stopped. The pack behind him stopped, too, though they remained antsy. Feet danced and tails wagged, but they didn’t move forward without their leader.

“Nice to see you again.” Silas joined them. “Judge has taken a liking to your friend.”

Armi made introductions. Silas was the local critter guy—her words, not his—who she’d met at the summer solstice festival. She introduced Mitch as her “friend.” He supposed that was true enough. He’d never expected or wanted to be more than that. Yet here they were…

“How’s that lovely wife of yours?” she asked.

Silas smiled. Even Mitch, distracted as he was, could see how the man adored his wife. “She’s doing well, thanks. You should stop by and see her while you’re here.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Armi said. She lifted a hand to her hair, which was caught in a ponytail. “I could use a trim.”