Having nearly ended up on the wrong side of a similar situation, Blayne immediately felt a kinship to the eighty-pound dog. She hugged him close, careful not to rub against any fresh wounds. But she quickly realized he had no fresh wounds. His scars were all old, his leg long healed to a useless mess. Yet he couldn’t be more than a year or two old.

“What’s your name, little guy? Did they even give you a name?”

After having been so cautious around her, he now slathered her with wet dog kisses and jumped from side to side, eager to have a friend.

“Oh, my God. You are so cute! Wanna come with me? Wanna go running with me?”

He turned and charged off, stopping to spin around to look at her. Blayne stood and followed. For a basically three-legged dog, he moved fast, but Blayne kept up with him, moderating her gait so that they ran together. She let him take the lead and she followed him up another high hill. They stopped at the top and Blayne looked down, fascinated by what she saw. She held her hand out and her gloved fingers went through a wall of what she could only call a winter storm. Snow and ice laced the other side. When she pulled her hand out, the tips of her glove were frozen together, and the only thing that kept her fingers attached to her hand was the fact that she wasn’t completely human.

Shaking her head, she said to the dog standing by her side, “That’s amazing, huh? And weird.”

Blayne started to turn away, but she stopped and leaned in. Not wanting her nose to freeze off, she didn’t get too close, but she wondered about the farmhouse she could see on the other side. A farmhouse with several buildings that looked deserted and was right by the ocean. A nice piece of property except that it was completely cut off from anything and everything, stuck between an American bear town and a Canadian one from what Bo had told her.

Reminding herself to ask about it later, she rubbed the dog’s head and then headed off down the hill. They kept going, running through a forest, Blayne stopping when she caught sight of a pond in the distance. She moved a little closer, smiling as she watched Bo Novikov do what he did best—conquer the ice.

“He’s amazing, isn’t he?” The dog pressed against her leg, tongue hanging out, looking very happy. “If I moved like that, little guy, I’d own the world, too.”

The dog ran a circle around her and charged off. Laughing, Blayne followed.

CHAPTER 20

Bo walked up the porch stairs and into his uncle’s house. Grigori was coming down the hallway, his big coat on.

“Where you off to?” Bo asked, dropping his equipment by the door just like he used to.

“Storm comin’.”

“And?”

“Don’t be smart.”

Too tired and happily satisfied to argue, Bo walked past his uncle and headed toward the bathroom. But he stopped, looking into the dining room. “What’sall this?”

“Neighbors brought food.”

“That was nice.”

“Yeah.” Grigori opened the front door. “Not for you, though. For Blayne Thorpe.”

“For Blayne?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Is she here?”

“No. But I’ll look for her while I’m—”

Blayne ran in before Grigori could finish, and she wasn’t alone.

“What is that?” Grigori demanded.

“My new friend. He doesn’t have a name yet. Let me know if you think of one.”

“He can’t stay here.”

Blayne took off her goofy earmuffs. He hated those things. They were creepy little bunny heads. “Why not?” she asked.

“What do you mean why not? Because I don’t want him here.” Blayne didn’t say anything, simply gazed at the much taller and bigger polar. “You heard me,” he pushed. “He can’t stay here.” She kept gazing, and Bo could imagine the big dog eyes his uncle was getting . . . and not from the dog. “You’re only a visitor, ya know, Blayne Thorpe. Here because of my goodwill. So don’t push your luck.” The gazing continued until Grigori snarled, and snapping before he stormed out, “He better be gone when I get home in the morning!”

The door closed and Blayne faced Bo, looking kind of smug for a canine trapped among bears. He motioned to the dining room. “What have you been up to today?”

She walked over and gawked at the dining table. “Wow. Is that all for us?”

“No. That’s all for you. Apparently everyone seems to think Grigori and I were planning to starve ya to death.”

She gave the tiniest snort. “Dude, your accent’s coming back.”

“I ain’t got no accent. And stop callin’ me dude.” Bo scratched his scalp, ready for his shower. Speaking of which . . .

“That’s from Irina Zubachev.”

Bo gritted his teeth when Blayne squealed and dashed over to the bags. “I’m so excited to try this stuff!”

“Well, you can try it after my shower. Grigori’s shower is out and the other one only has a tub so—”

Bo watched Blayne grab both bags and make a wild run for the only working shower in the house.

“Blayne Thorpe, don’t even think about—”

“Ha-ha!” she crowed, slamming the door before he could even finish. Seething, he looked down and watched the mangled dog who’d come in with Blayne back up and into the living room until he found a couch to hide under.

“Good idea,” Bo muttered, and glanced at his watch. Okay, okay. How long could she take in the shower anyway? Ten minutes? Maybe fifteen? He could wait.