The ginger-colored dog tilted his head as if studying her, then lifting his nose, took a long whiff of the frigid air.

Nothing to be afraid of. Just a lost dog, a stray. She wasn’t in his yard, his territory. Nothing about her was threatening. It would wander off now. She willed the thought to be true.

Kara waited, her breath puffing white in front of her.

The dog lowered its head then lifted it one more time to study her.

Kara froze. “Go home, puppy,” she whispered.

The dog glanced over its shoulder, then turned to face her. Taking two steps forward, it glanced up.

Kara’s next breath caught in her chest.

Its eyes…were red.

Kara blinked, unable to believe what she was seeing. The dog moved forward a step, then two. His head held low, his tail stiff behind him, he glanced at her, an almost human intelligence in his eyes. The cold determination she saw there sent a shiver dancing up her spine.

This was no ordinary dog.

No, she corrected herself. It was. It had to be. Her mind was just playing tricks on her — too many sleepless nights worrying about Kelly causing old phobias to come back and haunt her.

Now firmly in the circle of light, the dog stood facing Kara, its jaws gaping, drool streaming from its mouth, red eyes flickering like windows in a burning building.

Ordinary? Not quite. What was wrong with the thing?

Her hand tense around the Mace, Kara kept her gaze steady. When you looked away, that was when they attacked. Or at least that was what had happened with Jessie. The dog had been there one second, staring her and her friend down, then Kara had looked away, just to search for an escape, and the dog had sprung. Not on Kara, no, on Jessie. Just on Jessie. Kara didn’t remember much after that, except the screams — always the screams. She still didn’t know if they were hers or her friend’s.