So when he did, it was safe to assume he’d stumbled upon something serious.
Something very, very bad.
I followed the sound of it. That low, gravely rumble growing in intensity the closer I crept. Only to be replaced with something much worse—a horrible snarl, a high-pitched yelp, and a sickening silence that made my gut dance.
“Buttercup?” I called, my voice so shaky, so unsteady I was forced to clear my throat and try again. “Buttercup—where are you? This isn’t funny, you know! You better show yourself now, or you will not be flying home!”
The second the threat was out, I heard him. Paws beating against the hard, wet sand, his quick panting breath getting louder and louder the closer he came.
I sighed with relief and sank down to the ground. Readying myself for the big, slobbery apology hug that soon would be mine, only to watch in absolute horror as the fog split wide open and a large dog jumped out.
A dog that wasn’t Buttercup.
It was—something else entirely.
Big—the size of a pony.
Black—its coat matted and gnarled.
With paws the size of hooves that came hurtling toward me, as I screamed long and loud, desperate to get out of its way.
But it was too late.
No matter how fast I moved—it wasn’t fast enough.
There was no escaping the chains of its sharply barbed collar that clanged ominously.
No escaping the menacing glow of those deep yellow eyes with the laser-hot gaze that burned right into mine, right into my soul.…
3
I curled into a ball, pressed my nose against my knees, and covered my face as I waited for the impact.
Waited for the push of those paws, the bite of those razor-sharp teeth, the heat of that ominous gaze to sear straight into the heart of me.
But nothing came.
And, really, why would it when there was one major thing saving me from his attack?
One major thing saving me from any attack.
One major thing that I still hadn’t grown used to—or at least not when I was in the middle of being scared witless.
The fact that I was dead.
Dead as a doornail.
Dead and buried.
Dead as … well, pretty much as dead as it gets.
The irony being that while I may have felt more alive than ever, the truth was that my physical body had died just over a year ago. Leaving me with this new, light and filmy, somewhat translucent version that looked an awful lot like the original, gravity-bound version, except for the fact that things could easily pass through me now, whereas they couldn’t before.
Things like oversize hellhounds with matted black fur and deep menacing growls, for instance.
And, as luck would have it, I’d failed to remember any of that until Bodhi had already caught up with me.
Or, rather, make that Bodhi and Buttercup, my sweet yellow Lab, who’s not only known me for almost all of my life, but who died in the car accident right alongside me, which, all things considered, you’d think would result in some serious loyalty.