In a few more minutes of steaming, Starshade shut off the water, patted down her feathery mane, and, because of course why not, took the only towel on the rack and swaddled herself in it like a smug, oversized, jet-black moth.

  She stepped out of the bath, leaving comet tails of puddles and grinned, all teeth, carrying my tablet with her tail out of the shower. “All yours, Ashy.”

  I stepped into the tub with a sigh.

  The shower water had started lukewarm. The promising beginning quickly devolved into tepid disappointment, then outright betrayal as the arcane water heater wheezed its final thermal breath. By the end, I was standing under a stream that was "aggressively cold" and rapidly escalated into "liquid punishment”, quickly forcing my shivering self out of the shower.

  When the towel proved unavailable due to being commandeered by a certain cryptid princess I resorted to using my hands to wipe myself down and then a shirt as a makeshift towel, the cotton absorbing what it could while leaving me mostly damp and vaguely miserable.

  The bedroom offered no sanctuary. Shady had made herself comfortable on my unmade bed, occupying almost the entire mattress, tablet taken hostage. Her fur clumped into soft tufts that caught the morning light streaming through the stained glass windows, creating small dancing prisms. She had Goodle map open.

  “McDouglass in town is open,” she said.

  “You want to eat that junk?”

  “We can go to Yumland after and get actual groceries.”

  I suddenly became aware of the purple-red impressions circling my wrists. I traced one of the oversized thumb-marks with my finger. The bruise felt tender, proof that whatever Shady was, she existed with enough substance to leave evidence.

  She glanced up, silver eyes flicking to my wrists. "Sorry. Went a bit rough on ya there."

  “S’fine,” I went into the closet and got dressed.

  The walk to the driveway relaxed me slightly. Outside, the morning air carried the scent of pines and distant rain, blessed Pacific Northwest perfection. My red 1992 Jeep Cherokee sat waiting, rust spots splattered like constellations across its faded paint, hopefully still mechanically sound enough to carry us down the winding mountain road.

  Shady folded herself into the passenger seat, antlers barely clearing the doorframe. Her tail curled around the gear shift like it belonged there, the feathers at the edge sparkling with blue and green iridescence.

  I adjusted the rearview mirror.

  A massive black dog occupied the passenger seat in the mirror. When Shady shifted beside me, yawning, the dog in the mirror moved in synchronization, yawning just as wide.

  I turned the key and the Cherokee's engine turned over on the third attempt, settling into its familiar wobbly rumble. The radio crackled to life, some morning talk show discussing property taxes and weather patterns. Normal human concerns that felt increasingly distant.

  I backed and rotated in the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires. The road wound down through dense evergreens, each turn revealing glimpses of Darkbrook valley below. Cascade sat nestled between hills like something from a postcard, all rustic charm and well maintained facades.

  The McDouglass' occupied a corner lot near the town center, its golden arches incongruous against the backdrop of Victorian storefronts and artisanal coffee shops. I pulled into the drive-through lane behind a soccer mom's SUV.

  "What do you want?" I asked, studying the digital menu that flashed with ads of various burgers.

  "Everything."

  "Be more specific."

  "Four Big Macs, large fries, chicken nuggets, apple pie, chocolate shake." She paused. "Actually, make that two extra large shakes. Almost forgot that your human-sized cups are puny."

  “You’re seriously stretching my non-existent budget,” I commented.

  “Don’t be a grinch, Ashy. You’ve got a perfectly bodacious, horny, naked babe in your shotgun seat, you’ve no right to complain.”

  “What?” I choked.

  “Horny, get it?” She tapped her antlers.

  “Ha har,” I let out.

  The cryptid grinned at me, silver eyes curling into two moons.

  The blue SUV ahead of us moved forward. I pulled up to the speaker, rolling down my window.

  "Welcome to McDouglass's, what can I get started for you today? Are you claiming any points?"

  I rattled off Shady's order, adding an ice cap and fries for myself.

  "Pull around to the first window," the voice chirped.

  At the payment window, a teenage girl with purple-streaked hair and multiple ear piercings smiled at me. Her name tag read "Kirra." Her eyes immediately shifted to the passenger seat.

  "Oh my god, your dog is gorgeous!" she exclaimed, leaning forward to get a better look. "What breed is it?"

  I glanced at Shady, who had her head tilted in a dog-like manner.

  "Mixed breed," I said. "Rescue."

  "You're lucky to have such a cutie!”

  “Uh-huh,” I sighed. “Sure am.”

  The salesgirl gaped at my bruised wrist when I tapped my card on the offered credit card reader.

  “Was doing some reno on the house I just inherited,” I commented. “Got my wrists snagged by a rope pulley.”

  “Dang that sux,” she said. “Be more careful next time. That looks gnarly.” She handed me the receipt. "Kay. Second window for your food!"

  A middle-aged man with a mustache passed the bags through the window. His gaze caught on Shady. "Big dog you got there. Friendly?"

  "Mostly." I accepted the food.

  Shady dug into the bag, obliterating its contents as soon as I rolled out of the drivethrough.

  I sipped my ice cap, staring at her.

  “Yes?” she asked between bites.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “That’s two people who saw you and the girl saw the bruises.”

  “Told you I’m real, dummy.”

  I rolled some of her words in my head, discarding the vague, random nonsense. A conclusion manifested itself.

  “I can see you because of the blood pact?”

  “Yep.”

  “No wait,” I considered, grabbing my fries. “How did I see you before the blood pact?”

  "Kids sometimes see things. Before the world teaches them to be knobs."

  I squinted at her.

  “Your grandfather was bound too,” she revealed after a minute of burger chomping. “You’re a direct descendant.”

  “Oh?”

  “You stepped into a fae circle and made a wish for a best friend. Bam! I fell into your lap.”

  "Are you like…. Tinkerbell on steroids?"

  “Maybe.”

  I started the engine, pulling out of the parking lot with perhaps more force than necessary. The Cherokee's tires hissed against wet asphalt. In the rearview mirror, the black dog lounged on the shotgun seat, tongue lolling. When I glanced sideways, Shady sat examining her claws with an expression of studied innocence.

  "Where's Yumland?" I asked.

  "Lemme check.” She pulled my tablet from the door compartment, opening Goodle maps. “Ah. Got it. Take a left at the light. Past the Methodist church."

  “Can I have my phone back?”

  “Nope. Your phone privileges have been revoked till further notice. I'll give it back if you behave.”

  “Dogs don’t carry phones. Are you going to come in with me or…”

  "Obviously. Need to make sure you buy actual food this time. Not whatever paleolithic nightmare was growing in that pancake mix."

  "People are going to see a giant dog in the produce aisle."

  "And? Just tell them I'm your service dog.”

  I sighed.

  Yumland Groceries occupied a converted warehouse, the concrete and brick facade painted cheerful yellow and green.

  I saw that she gracefully switched to moving on all fours after opening the passenger door.

  I grabbed a cart. The automatic doors hissed open for me and my unusual companion. The absurdity of a massive antlerred cryptid padding beside me in plain daylight, claws clicking against the linoleum, almost made me burst into nervous laughter.

  The produce section was first, pyramids of apples and citrus welcoming us. An elderly woman in a yellow, rain-slicked windbreaker paused mid-reach for a grapefruit, her weathered face softening.

  "What a beauty," she murmured, fingers hovering near Shady's head. "May I?"

  Shady offering her grinning muzzle. I stared at her as her ears wiggled.

  "She's very well-behaved," the woman said.

  “See? It’s all good,” Shady commented, winking at me. “Stupid magless can’t see what’s in front of them.”

  The old woman departed, satisfied with the pets.

  “And if she smacked her hand against an antler?” I whispered.

  “Naw,” Shady shrugged. “The mind is unconsciously aware that something sus is there, therefore the hand avoids touching it. Brain hook powahs!”

  We moved deeper into the store. A young couple with matching hiking outfits gave us a wide berth, the woman whispering something while her partner snapped a discreet photo.

  Shady examined the cereal aisle with anthropological intensity. “Hrmmmm. So many options. I’m having cereal choice paralysis.”

  "Just pick something without cartoon characters on it." I said.

  "The vampire on this one promises chocolate flavor." She stared unnervingly at the box. "How can you resist Count Chocula's hypnotic gaze?"

  A store employee arranging soup cans nearby glanced over, smiled at what he saw as a man talking to his dog, and returned to his pyramids of chicken noodles.

  The meat section's chill raised goosebumps along my arms. Shady pressed her black nose against the glass, breath fogging the surface. Behind the counter, the butcher watched with interest.

  "That's a big girl you got there," he called out. "Bet she goes through a lot of kibble."

  "You have no idea," I muttered.

  “Stekses,” Shady drooled.

  “No steakses,” I told her. “Steakses are outside of my budget.”

  “Waaa.”

  "Raw diet?" The butcher leaned forward. "My brother swears by it for his mastiff."

  Shady's long tail swished, swatting me. “Come on, get me some meat. I need raw blood to survive like… Dracula. Might accidentally nom your hand off if I don’t get some steakses.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “We got ground guts,” the butcher offered. “1.99 a pound.”

  “Ew no.” Shady huffed. “Gross.”

  “Don’t be picky, Shade.” I commented.

  “Nu-huh. I don’t eat guts, I’m a civilized monstress. Only medium-rare steaks please. That one for $42.99 looks yummy. Get it.”

  I opened my mouth and then closed it. Arguing with a dog over steak prices was sliding me from friendly dog owner into insane person territory.

  “Uh, she’s got a sensitive stomach, can’t handle the guts sadly,” I told the butcher.

  “Come on,” I rapidly walked away from the steaks. “Let's look for something else cheaper. Maybe ground beef burger patties.”

  Shade stared longingly at the steaks and then moved after me. The cart filled while my credit limit shrank, each item a small surrender to the maddening reality of shopping with my unexpected cryptid burden.

  "Ice cream," she announced at the frozen foods. "The blood pact definitely stipulates ice cream."

  “What happens if I violate your stupid pact?”

  “You’ll explode.” She grinned, sticking her tongue out.

  “Which ice cream?”

  “Hmmmm… mint with chocolate chips. Get the biggest one!”

  I grabbed the ice cream tub with a wary sigh.

  That's when I saw him approaching. The manager. A balding man in a yellow-green vest moving with a purposeful stride.

  "Excuse me, sir?" he asked. "Is this your animal?"

  “Yes,” Shady answered, dropping onto her hind legs, tail wagging, devious grin spreading monstrously wide. “Am service doggo.”

  "Yes," I let out. "She’s my… service dog. Is there a problem?"

  "Ah," he cleared his throat. "We typically require service animals to be clearly marked. And all dogs should be leashed for safety reasons."

  "Of course." I nodded. "I apologize. I just moved to town, still learning the rules."

  “Oh? Where to?”

  “The Clifford Estate. I’m Archibald Clifford’s grandson.”

  His expression softened marginally. "Glad that someone’s going to take care of that old place. Wouldn’t want squatters around." He glanced at Shady again. "Next time, put her on a leash. Store policy."

  "Next time," I agreed.

  He walked away, but not before looking back once more. In that glance, I caught concern sprinkled with… fear.

  “Feh. Gotta go,” Shady said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Meet in the car. Running outta juice. Spent too long staring at damned cereal.”

  She flashed away faster than I could say anything else, leaving me alone in the aisle.

  At checkout, a dark haired, tanned, gothic-style girl with the name tag reading "North" looked at me as she scanned the items with deep, gray eyes. “You new to town?”

  “Uh-huh,” I answered automatically, staring at the rapidly increasing bill. “Just moved in this week.”

  “Thought you had a mutt with you earlier.”

  "Yeah, she's... waiting in the car," I said, watching North's black-painted nails pause over the barcode scanner. I noted that she was unusually pretty, almost like a painting of a person that removed any blemishes or signs of tiredness.

  "Big black beastie, right?" She continued scanning. Her gray eyes never left mine. "With the sus energy."

  Sus energy. Not 'cute' or 'well-behaved' like the others had said. I shifted my weight, suddenly aware of the bruises circling my wrists.

  "She can be a handful," I admitted.

  North's lips curved into not-quite-a-smile. "The old Clifford place attracts all kinds of strays. Your grandfather understood that."

  I simply stared.

  "$137.43," she announced, holding out the card reader like an offering.

  I tapped my card, the small beep sounding like a sonorous bell in my imagination. North handed me the receipt, her fingers brushing mine. Cold.

  Colder than they should be.

  "Welcome to Darkbrook, Mr. Clifford," she said. "Try not to let her wander too far. The woods here have... appetites."

  Appetites? The morning of dealing with Shady pushed me to the limits of my waning tolerance. “How would you know? You some kind of vampire?”

  “Pfft,” she chortled. “Would a real vampire really answer that sorta of a question in public?”

  “Not a vampire expert,” I said.

  “Then why would you think that I'm a vampire?” She smirked.

  “You're pretty. Too pretty,” I said. “Plus you somehow know my last name. Plus the hungry woods thing.”