Glancing back down, I catch a glimpse of Toto’s forehead—and a shimmering green star mark in the center of it.
He gives me one last look before he turns back to the kelpie, and then rips his jeans off. Like a fucking stripper. It’s both sexy, cool, and totally insane all at the same time.
The muscles in Toto’s body contract, shifting beneath his skin like living things. Ebon black fur sprouts along his spine as he drops forward to all fours with a howl that makes me think of cold graves and rainy cemetery days. My hands clamp over my ears as he shakes himself out, lifting his head up, dark eyes focused on the kelpie. The edge of his lip lifts in a snarl, a long feathered tail trailing out behind him, a pair of horns on his head. In the center of his forehead, a single emerald eye opens up with a snap, and a small sound escapes me as I stumble away from him.
How the hell did he get so big?! I wonder, studying the pony-sized dog in front of me, hooked claws digging into the earth.
With a growl that shakes the canopy and sends yet more birds flying, he launches himself at the shimmery white flank of the kelpie, claws raking its flesh. Lines of red blood follow his swipe, just before the pair of them disappear beneath the water with a splash.
“Toto!” I stumble across the grass and fall at the water’s edge on my knees, desperate to help but totally bereft of ideas. My fingers dig into the muddy ground as my eyes scan the dark surface of the water, searching for my last and only friend in the world—this world or any other.
I do not want to be left alone here.
Even if it is just a coma-induced delusion.
“Toto!”
Water explodes in front of me, like a bomb’s just gone off underneath the surface, soaking me from head to toe. Toto appears with the kelpie’s neck clamped between his jaws, and then, like a lion carrying a gazelle, drags the corpse up the side of the bank and tosses it aside.
The kelpie flies through the air, smashing into one of the trees with a spray of bark, and then collapses to the ground in a pool of blood. It lifts its head up once, whinnies, and then collapses with a finality that makes my heart thunder in my chest.
It’s dead.
I turn around, only to find Toto’s giant head right in front of my face, his dark brown eyes as familiar as my own, the green one in the center of his forehead unblinking as it looks into my soul.
“I’m … glad you’re okay …” I whisper, scooting back to put some space between us. Toto pads forward on paws the size of a lion’s, following me. I don’t like the way he’s studying me, like he’s not sure if I’m a friend … or breakfast. “Hey, uh, are you feeling alright?”
“Ozora,” he growls out, his giant jaws moving with the word. “The Great and Terrible.”
“Um, okay …” I glance over at the dead kelpie, lying at the base of the ruined tree in a pool of its own blood. Jesus. Flicking my attention back to my family dog-turned-beast, I swallow a lump in my throat. “Do you think you could turn back into a dude now? Or even, you know, your regular form? I could use a sloppy German shepherd kiss right about now.”
Toto nuzzles the side of my neck, snorting and making my skin prickle with goose bumps as his warm breath chases across my flesh. This feels weirdly intimate, and I’m not sure that I’m comfortable with that.
This is my dog.
Right?
There’s no way your mind would come up with this crap on its own, I think, but I’m not prepared for any reality except the one I was born and raised in. Giant dog monsters do not exist; kelpies do not exist; houses do not lift up in cyclones and crash down in other worlds.
“Mine.” Toto snuffles my hair and then pulls back, staring at me with all three eyes. “Mate.”
“Mate?” I choke out, wondering what the hell is happening here. “You just said I wasn’t allowed to find you sexy. And now you’re talking about mates?”
“Breed.” He sniffs the side of my face again, and I swat him away. His jaws snap in my direction, and I jerk my hand back against my chest, heart pounding.
Breed.
What the hell does breed mean?
“No breeding. You were lucky not to get neutered back home. Dad advocated for it, but Mom—” Toto cuts me off by grabbing my hair in his jaws. Gritting my teeth, I reach up and try to pry him off when he starts to drag me across the grass, kicking and screaming. “Toto!” I shout, when I hear a bored sigh from the trees.
Out steps Bain, the Witch of the North, balancing his pointed cap on one finger.
“Really? I can’t leave you alone for all of sixty minutes? Some Oz the Great and Terrible you are.” Bain flicks the cap forward, and it shifts midair, becoming a leash. The clasp hooks around the metal loop on Toto’s collar—which, by the way, shouldn’t reasonably fit him anymore. Bain yanks back on it and Toto drops his grip on me, howling in rage as he’s pulled away. “The collar keeps him contained, but it’s no good if you don’t issue firm commands.”
“Firm commands?” I ask, reaching up a shaking hand to touch my brunette hair.
“Sit, stay, heel, play dead? Do you people not have dogs back in Kansas?” Bain asks as Toto attempts to attack him, lunging with muscular precision in the witch’s direction. It seems to cost Bain little effort to just step out of the way like he’s avoiding an oblivious patron in a buffet line. “Well, are you just going to lie there like a lump, or are you going to help me out some? I’d hate to have to put your little dog to sleep.”
I sit up the rest of the way and shake the disbelief from my head. Doubts are not welcome right now. Later. I’ll worry about the logistics of this all later.
“Toto, sit and stay!” I shout out, shoving up to my feet.
As it did inside the house, the words seem to have a nearly supernatural effect on him.
In an instant, Toto goes from a lunging, snapping beast to a … well, he’s still snapping and snarling, but a much calmer beast.
Panting, I take a few steps closer to Bain, and when he hands me the leash, I take it.
“Oh, fresh kelpie meat. That’ll cook up into a lovely stew,” Bain observes as that little fairy light flutters around his head. It lands on his shoulder as I lick my lips and stare Toto’s three eyes down.
“Shift back into your human form,” I say, and he shudders, like the command is causing him visible pain. He stands up and shakes out his fur, that glorious tail lying on the ground behind him like a peacock’s folded feathers. As Bain and I watch, Toto shivers, his claws digging into the ground as the ebony black of his fur slides into his skin, his muzzle shortening, his pointed ears drawing back down to the sides of his skull.
In less than a minute, I’m staring down at the naked man I met earlier today.
“Goodness. Trying to mate your mistress already? Canid really are the dumbest race in all the land of Oz—obviously.”
“Canid?” I ask, glancing over at Bain as he snaps his fingers, and the leash in my hand turns into his pointed white cap again. He plucks it from my hand and tucks it onto his shimmering golden hair. It’s metallic, nothing at all like you might see in the real world.
“Did I stutter? You certainly ask some stupid questions,” he says, sighing as he looks over at me with those slanted lavender eyes of his. “Shouldn’t you be skipping down the Y.B.R. with a basket full of bread in your hand? That’s what Dorothy did, you know, when she arrived in Oz.”