Guard Dog? Read Online Free PDF

elfin, a little heart shape with pale eyes, and her hair was a mass of reddish brown. She rapped with her knuckles on the glass and shouted.
      “How did you get in there, Carmody?”
      I shouted back. “The store was open. Zack let me sit in the back to read one of his reference books and I guess he forgot I was there.”
      She shook her head and for that brief moment, she did look like any mother annoyed by her child’s carelessness.
      “Can you remove Zack’s ward?” I shouted.
      “Eventually.”
      I didn’t get a chance to ask the time frame of eventually.
      The rain came down in ribbons. Tarvik backed into the far corner of   the stairwell. In no time his fluffy hair was plastered against his head. His tank top and jeans were pasted to his body.
      The witch stared up at the rain. It ran down her face but it didn’t flatten her hair or even seem to dampen her dress. Instead, her hair and her skirt swirled around her.
      The rain came down in sheets and she smiled up at the sky. And raised her arms. Next thing was a flash of lightning followed by a roll of thunder.
      Tarvik held his hands against his forehead to shield his eyes. The witch started laughing, not at him but at the sky. And then, as wind whipped the rain until it fell at a sharp slant, her voice rose. In those few minutes, while I stared through the glass, I remembered another question I had asked my grandmother.
      “But why does the witch wail?” Even back then, I knew enough to keep nagging when I wanted answers.
      “She draws power from the storm.”
      “What if it’s not storming?”
      Gran had shrugged. “When she wants a storm, she gets one.”
      Don’t know which came first, but gotta tell ya, they were both out there now, the storm and the wail.
      Within the wind another sound rose, almost part of the wind but sharper. Increased in loudness. Increased in pitch. The witch   tilted her head back and her voice became a high screech, like wind whistling through a crack in the door, higher, sharper, and definitely a wail. On and on, weaving through the howling storm. What Gran forgot to tell me was how to close my ears when a wailing witch wailed.
      Tarvik did a small wail himself, pointing at the staircase. It was fast becoming a waterfall, the kind in parks where water drops from step to step in a fancy fountain. These steps weren’t fancy. They were plain old grit covered cement, and by the time the water reached the bottom, it was gray. It swirled in front of the door, a filthy pool. Tarvik jumped up on the lowest stair. Within minutes the water covered it and he had to go up another step to keep the water from filling his shoes.
      I tried shouting, asking her what she was doing. The wind and rain and wailing drowned out my voice. At the rate the water flowed, there were a lot worse things it could drown. So I pounded on the glass.
      She finally heard me and looked at me. And let her wail drop to a keening and then to nothing. And then her face smoothed and she gave me a grin and shouted, “I think that’ll do it!”
      The next bit was stuff I’d seen Gran do, a lot of hand waving while her mouth worked in what was probably a chant. When she stopped, she pointed at Tarvik and waved him toward the door. He sloshed on down through   the water.
      He grabbed   the door knob at the same time I shouted, “No!” but yeah, I was too late.
      He opened the door and let in a river.
      “Shut the door!”
      He did. I raced to the wash room and grabbed the roll of paper towels off the wall.   We both   got to work and mopped away until there was a loud banging on the door. I looked up expecting to see the witch.
      Instead, I saw a policeman.
      My choices were limited. I could open the door and stand in the doorway and let in a flood.
      Or I could say, “Tar, I’m ducking out fast to talk to the officer,” and not give him a chance to object.
      I opened the door the minimum, slid