Kara froze. She still had the Mace. Would it stop over two hundred pounds of rabid dog? She doubted it, but she would try.

The dog took another step. Kara positioned her finger over the spray can, her hand trembling so badly she almost dropped it. She wrapped her other hand around the metal cylinder, then concentrated on the dog and her last chance at life. Not close enough yet. One shot. She would get one shot. Spray and run. That was it.

Something moved behind the silver animal — the ginger dog teetering to his feet.

Kara bit her lip. If they got into another fight, farther away, she could use that time to escape. “Looks like your friend’s awake, buddy.” She nodded toward the ginger dog. It shook its head as if trying to reorient itself.

To her surprise the silver dog seemed to understand her, he glanced over his shoulder at the other animal. Kara rose onto the balls of her feet in a crouch — ready to run.

The ginger dog glared at them both. Kara held her breath, hope flickering in her chest. Then in a shimmer — like heat rising off hot asphalt on a summer day — the animal disappeared.

Kara gave a quick intake of breath. She was crazy. Lock-her-up, throw-away-the-key crazy.

Would anyone be surprised?

The silver dog turned back to Kara, and she could have sworn he was smiling. Glimmering eyes focused on her, he padded closer.

Hatred poured into Kara. A dog had killed her friend, would she let one kill her, too? Crazy or not, Kara wouldn’t make it easy. Not this time.

She waited until he was a couple arms’ lengths away then pressed the spray nozzle. The dog barely blinked.

Tossing the empty can away, Kara lunged to the side. The dog cut her off, knocking her to the ground and standing over her just as he had the ginger dog.

If Kara believed in God, this would have been a good time to pray. Instead she stared up at the animal, trying to ignore the unsettling eyes that seemed to burn into her. Where were the police?