Part 7 (1/2)
”How awful,” Pilar said sympathetically-but Thea thought she wasn't entirely sorry that the dance hadn't gone well.
”Yeah. So how's our boy?”
”Okay-a little hyper. You might want to take him for a walk later.” Pilar p icked up her jacket. She nodded politely to Thea as she headed for the door . ”See you Monday.”
She likes him.
When the door was shut, Thea looked around the office. ”So the clinic's not open.”
”No, but somebody has to stay overnight when we've got animals boarding h ere.” He gave her the grin again. ”Follow me.”
He led her through an exam room into a corridor and then to a kennel room a t the back. Thea looked around with interest. She'd never been in the inner sanctum of an animal hospital before.
There were several dog runs. Eager whining was coming from the last.
Eric looked at her mischievously. ”Three, two, one . . .”
He opened the cage. A big Labrador puppy tumbled out, tail wagging frantic ally. He was a beautiful color that ranged from deep gold on his back to a lmost white on his legs and paws.
”Hey, Bud,” Eric said. ”Hey, pal; who's a good boy?” He looked at Thea sole mnly. ”This is the ultimate cuddle dog.”
Thea collapsed on the sheet vinyl floor and made a lap, holding both arms ou t.
”Uh-your dress-” Eric began mildly, but the puppy was already in midair. Th ea caught him and he crawled up her, legs on her shoulders, hot breath blow ing in her ear.
”I think I'm in love,” Thea gasped, her arms full of warm, heavy puppy swee tness.
Happiness surrounded her. She didn't have to try to merge with the puppy's mind; he practically took over by force. All his thoughts were good ones, and they were all about now. About how terrific everything smelled this minute, and how great that scratch behind the ear felt on a fleabite.
Good feelings, happy feelings . . . I really like this big bald dog . . . Wonde r which of us is dominant?
The puppy bit her and Thea play-bit him back.
”Wrong; I'm the pack leader,” she informed him, holding his jowls.
There was only one odd thing. She could see the way the world looked to the pup-and there was nothing on the right. Just a void.
”Is there something wrong with his eyes?”
”You noticed the cataract. Lots of people don't see that right away. Yeah, h e's blind in the right eye. When he gets older he may come back for surgery.
” Eric sat back against the wall, grinning madly. ”You've really got a way w ith animals,” he said. ”But you don't own any pets?”
The question was gentle, not intrusive. Thea said absently, ”Well, usually j ust temporary ones. I pick them up and when they're cured I put them back- o r find homes for them if they want to be pets.”
”You cure them.”
Once again, the question was gentle, but Thea felt a little shock. Why could n't she guard her tongue around this guy? She looked up and found he was loo king at her steadily and searchingly, his green eyes alert.
She took a breath. ”I feed them, take them to the vet if they need it. Then I w ait until they heal up.”
He nodded, but the searching look didn't go away. ”Did you ever think of be ing a vet yourself?”
Thea had to look down. She bluffed by kissing the puppy.
”Uh, not really,” she muttered into blond fur.
”But you've got a gift. Look, I've got some material on U.C. Davis. They ha ve a great undergraduate program-and their graduate school is one of the be st in the country. It's not easy to get in, but you could do it. I know you could.”
”I wouldn't bet on it,” Thea muttered. She had several dramatic blotches on her academic record- like four expulsions.
But that wasn't the real problem. The real problem was that witches weren't v eterinarians. They just weren't.
She could choose to specialize in gems or herbs or ritual clothing; in chants or runes or research or amulets ... in hundreds of things, but nothing taught at U.C. Davis.
”It's hard to explain,” Thea said. She didn't have much room left to be surp rised, or she'd have been surprised to find she wanted to explain to a human . ”It's just-my family wouldn't really approve. They want me to be something else.”
Eric opened his mouth, then shut it again.
The puppy sneezed.
”Well-maybe you could help me with my application sometime,” Eric said at l ast. ”I'm trying to do the essay question and dying.”
You sneak, Thea thought.
”Maybe,” she said.
At that moment a buzzer sounded-far away but insistent. Bud barked.
”What the . . . that's the outside buzzer,” Eric said. ”But n.o.body should be here at this time of night.” He got up and headed for the front of the buildi ng. Thea followed, her fingertips just brus.h.i.+ng Bud's head to control him.
Eric opened the door, then stepped back in surprise.
”Rosamund . . . what are you doing here? Does Mom know you're out?”
Something like a miniature whirlwind entered the waiting room. It was a kid, a little girl with a mop of sandy hair sticking out from under a baseball c ap. She was carrying a rolled-up blue blanket, and what could be seen of her expression under the hair was ferocious.
”Mom said Madame Curie wasn't really sick, but she is. Call Dr. Joan.” Wit h that, the kid marched into the office and dumped the blue blanket on the counter, pus.h.i.+ng aside a clipboard and some vaccination reminder cards.
”Hey. Don't.” When she ignored him, Eric looked at Thea. ”Uh, this is my sister Rosamund. And I don't know how she got here-”
”I rode my bike and I want Madame Curie fixed now.”
Bud was rearing up and trying to sniff the blue blanket. Thea pushed him down gently. ”Who's Madame Curie?”
”Madame Curie is a guinea pig,” Eric said. He touched the blanket. ”Roz-Dr.
Joan is gone. She's out of town at a conference.”