Mrs. Connor.
“ Bonjou , boo.” He reached a hand encrusted with gold and silver rings out to her.
She scooted back a bit, eyeing the hand as she wedged herself farther behind the water heater. “I bite.”
“So I hear.” He chuckled softly and traced his finger over the mark another such strange visitor had left on her forehead. “Had lotta visitors, cher?”
She shrugged a shoulder and pulled from his reach. That mark on her forehead—a glyph, the other man had called it—burned cold. She’d been able to put the discomfort from her mind for what felt like weeks now, but this man’s touch ignited it all over again. “Don’t. Not supposed to mess with it.”
“Oh, why not?”
“Make my head explode.”
“It won’t did dat. Don’t let ’em scare you. Just a way to keep you where dey tink you belong.”
“In the basement.” She nodded, hugging Wozo closer. “You talk weird.”
“Don’t I, though? You know what I find? People so busy workin’ out what I say, dey not so careful mindin’ dey own flappin’ gums.”
“Are you going to buy me?” She’d heard the Connors talking, knew the men who came to poke and prod and appraise her were looking to own her. That wasn’t a good thing.
He smiled, and once more reached out to her, his hand falling on Wozo’s head to turn the bear to look at him. “How long you had dis raggety ting?”
“Mama gave him to me.” She tightened her grip on the bear, not wanting to risk that he might tear Wozo away from her.
“Did she now? Sickly-lookin’ ol’ ting.” He petted the bear’s head, but didn’t try to take him. “Like to see a bitta magic?”
“Please don’t take him.”
“I wouldn’t never. Lookit da bear, cher.”
His big hand enveloped Wozo’s face, and Ferrah’s heart pounded in her throat. If he took Wozo, if he ruined him more, she’d have no one—she’d be utterly alone in the long darkness. She jerked as static rose in her tightly coiled arms, the fine hairs along her flesh pricking as the scent of ozone wafted over her. The man’s fingers lit up, glowing red-hot as if someone were filtering a powerful light through them. Wozo’s hair crawled along his stuffed scalp, rippling in waves away from the man’s hand, and somewhere in the recesses of her mind, the part of her not startled stiff, she knew she should let go of the bear and run for her life.
He pulled away first, little sparks of light dripping from his fingertips like burning drops of water. She watched the drops fall, resisted the urge to reach out and catch one, was almost mesmerized until he pointed back at Wozo.
The bear had eyes. They sparkled up at her, like black jewels set in his scruffy face. She turned her gaze back to the man who smiled at her from under his big hat, but her questions hung in her throat.
“I thought y’might need some watchin’ over. Just till I come back to get ya.”
“You can’t take me now?”
He shook his head. “Lotta tings to work out first. But I’ll be back, f’true.” He ruffled Wozo’s fur, and then lifted his hand to push his fingers through her own tangled mess of hair. “Got lotta plans for you, cher. Wait and see.”
I
“He’s defective. I don’t care if you have to gut him and replace every circuit in the damn animal—I want a dog that works.”
Samantha crouched in the grass, trying not to smile as the golden-haired dog happily chased its tail in stumbling circles. He was making himself dizzy with all that round-and-round, which probably only fueled the animal’s desire to continue. He’d found a way to keep himself entertained. “He’s just bored. It’s perfectly natural. Nothing to worry about.”
“It’s goddamn embarrassing. Not to mention the wreck he’s making of my lawn.” The dog’s owner kicked at a tuft of uneven earth with the toe of his expensive shoe. “For what I am paying you, I expect you to make him work.”
“SynthPet Industries prides itself on authenticity, Mr.
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