Chapter 10
Dexter
S omething was wrong with Toby.
I hadn’t seen my cute neighbor for the past two days, ever since he’d sent his friends off into the night. I might’ve worried that he was avoiding me, only it wasn’t just that he wasn’t going out.
I don’t think Toby had left his bedroom much in the past two days. He didn’t have any food delivered, which was extremely odd for him. I hadn’t heard his phone ring, which meant he either put it on silent or he wasn’t taking calls. I hadn’t heard any phone conversations, and usually he didn’t go more than half a day without calling someone. Granted, it was hard for me to hear conversations clearly when he was in his bedroom, but usually I could still make out the muffled sound of voices.
I could see lights turning on and off, and I didn’t smell the rot of decay, so I knew he wasn’t seriously injured or dead.
Still, something wasn’t right. My hellhound was… agitated. I felt protective of Toby, and I knew I walked around half of the day with my eyes glowing red. My hellhound was an itch underneath my skin, demanding to come out.
No one needed my hellhound form going to check on Toby.
I finally gave in; I could go knock on his door, but I wasn’t sure I had a good excuse. Didn’t people need an excuse to do that? Did people really go borrow a cup of sugar? Maybe I could ask if he had some coffee I could borrow? Surely that was a reasonable thing to do.
I just needed to keep my hellhound under wraps so I didn’t scare the pretty human.
What if Toby was hurt? Or sick? Humans got sick. Sometimes they even died from sickness, even if they were young.
I growled low in my throat. Toby sick or hurt was not an option. I slipped my boots on near the door and headed over to his place, knocking loudly on the door when I got there.
I waited. I heard footsteps from the bedroom upstairs heading toward the window, light and tentative, only he wouldn’t see me with the porch overhang. I jumped off the porch and looked up to the window, only he was no longer there.
I climbed the porch steps and knocked again, leaning in to look through the door.
That’s when I smelled it—fear.
I growled, and I knew my eyes were red. Toby was afraid, and the urgency to go to him was pounding in my body.
I tried the door handle, which was locked. It took only a little bit of my strength to force it open, cracking the door jam. I would worry about that later.
“Toby!” I cried as I ran into his house.
I heard a whimper of distress, and I was halfway up the stairs to check on him when he appeared at the top of the stairs, pale, shaking the tiniest bit, reeking of fear, and wielding a butcher knife in his hand.
“Toby! Are you ok?” I asked, stopping on the steps and looking up at him.
He saw me and breathed out, his hand with the knife dropping down. In the next breath it seemed like his legs gave out and he sat down hard on the top stair, his head in his hands, the knife precariously close to his face.
“Fuck, you scared me,” he breathed out.
I had been the one to scare Toby? Shit.
I was torn between going to him and backing away since I had frightened him. But he wasn’t afraid of me the other day, so what had frightened him now about me? And if he was really frightened, would he have dropped down into such a vulnerable position? He wasn’t even looking at me in alarm. Was it me, or was it someone knocking on his door? Was he expecting someone else?
I growled without meaning to at the thought of someone scaring Toby, and he looked up at me. Only he didn’t look frightened, even with the growl. He looked… relieved.
He didn’t smell scared anymore either. Since my instinct was to go comfort Toby, I slowly inched my way up the stairs. He was looking at me, and I wondered if my eyes were red. I blinked, trying to force my hellhound down, and made my way up the rest of the stairs.
Toby only stared up at me, and I slowly reached down, taking the butcher knife from his hand. He let it drop into mine without a fight, and I sat next to him on the top step. Our knees brushed against each other. I wanted to grumble in delight at the contact, only the smell of fear was still a faint odor in the air and Toby looked exhausted. He had circles under his eyes and didn’t look well.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” I said carefully. “I was worried about you.”
He seemed to shake off more of his nerves, and he tilted his head quizzically at me. “Worried? About me? Why?” he asked.
“I usually see you outside, and you haven’t gotten take-out in two days,” I answered. I couldn’t very well tell him I hadn’t heard him take any calls and that he hadn’t left his room much.
He giggled at that, even if it did sound slightly hysterical. “Oh my god, that’s so true. At least I know if I go missing my next door neighbor and food delivery will notice,” he said.
“I would notice if you were gone,” I said seriously, placing my hand that didn’t have the butcher knife in it on his knee.
“At least someone would,” he muttered. I didn’t know what had Toby so spooked, but I was determined to find out. I stood up, reaching my empty hand down to Toby to help him up.
“Why don’t we go grab you a glass of water or something. You can explain what’s going on,” I said.
He took my hand without hesitation, and my hellhound preened at the trust he put in me. I led him downstairs and let him take the lead as we walked toward the kitchen. He looked behind him, as if to make sure I was still there. When we got to the kitchen, I set the butcher knife on the island and stood leaning on it while Toby grabbed two cups and filled them with water, handing one to me. He sat down on one of the stools, and I heard him breathe out a sigh.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” I said again. I wasn’t sure how to get him to share what had been going on, and I didn’t want to frighten him.
“It’s ok,” he mumbled, his head still down. He looked up then. “I just thought you were someone else, and it made me nervous.”
He had been afraid of someone else. Who was Toby scared of? He titled his head and I realized that I was growling almost subvocally. I cut it off and slowly blinked, making sure my eyes weren’t red. I was going to take care of Toby, but I needed to get my hellhound under control. I didn’t need him screaming and running from fear because I was being not-human.
“Who did you think I was?” I asked, my voice gravelly and low. “Is someone bothering you?”
“Oh man, you are totally MC material,” he muttered under his breath. I had no idea what “MC” was referring to, although I felt like I’d heard him use the term before when talking about his books.
“Toby, is someone threatening you?” I asked again.
Toby sighed and put his head down again. “Maybe I’m overreacting,” he mumbled. “It was just a couple of emails, and the one letter to my PO box, which anyone could look up because the stupid law requires an address on newsletters, but I just got in my head and sort of spiraled about it. I’m sure it’s nothing, and I really don’t think the guy even knows where I live, so I’m totally overreacting,” he said again.
I wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or me.
“What emails?” I asked.
“Plus, the police said this thing happens all the time on the internet, and there’s really nothing they can do about it. They’ll file a report anyway so it’s on record, but they said although the emails are threatening in nature, there is no actual stated threat or anything illegal in them.” Toby giggled a little hysterically then. “Maybe if the guy had sent me a dick pic I could’ve complained about porn or something. Not that I want to see that,” he added, “but it’s just frustrating. But I knew there wasn’t going to be anything they could do.”
He’d filed a police report? Someone was sending him threatening emails? I growled again, and Toby tilted his head.
“And now I’m totally seeing things because I’m sleep deprived and anxious and I’m probably going slightly insane,” he mumbled to himself.
I closed my eyes and gripped his kitchen island with my hands, forcing myself to remain calm. My hellhound was a pressure beneath my skin, burning to come out. I hadn’t taken my other form in far too long.
Soon. But not now. Must not scare the pretty human , I thought to myself.
I took a deep breath, flexing then loosening my hands on the counter. When I was sure I had myself under control, I opened my eyes and looked at Toby, who was looking at me with a fascinated stare.
At least he didn’t look scared.
“I don’t like that you’ve been threatened. Tell me what happened,” I ordered.
Ok, so maybe I wasn’t completely calm, but my order didn’t seem to scare Toby. If anything, I thought I saw a small smile on his face.
Then he told me all about the guy who had been stalking him. Toby didn’t use the word, but that’s what it was. Social media harassment, then threatening emails, and then an actual letter? The guy was escalating. I was thankful that Toby kept his real name and address private, but there were ways around that.
The guy could have followed him home from the post office, for fuck’s sake, keeping a look out on the PO box in order to find out Toby’s real address.
I mean, that’s what I would have done if I was hunting Toby.
Which I wasn’t. Of course. Because I didn’t have to. He lived right next door.
He could have put a tracker on the letter as well, although I figured Toby would have noticed that. Still…
“Let me see the letter,” I ground out.
He obediently got up and went into his pantry, bringing me a freezer ziplock bag with a letter and an envelope in it. He blushed adorably when I raised my eyebrows at the baggie.
“They bag it on television,” he murmured. “But when Amy, my personal assistant, talked to the police, they only wanted a picture of it for evidence. I didn’t even have to go down to the station.” He shrugged then, handing it over.
“Send me the emails, too,” I demanded.
If the police wouldn’t do anything about it, then I would. It might take getting Liam involved, but that was a price I would pay. I figured someone from the pack would probably descend on me soon anyway.
Toby got up, walked into the living room to grab his computer, and came back to the kitchen, dutifully opening it up. “Where should I send them?” he asked.
I spelled out my email address for him and he began the process of forwarding the emails.
I thought about what else I could do to protect Toby. Cameras would be good. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sneak any into his house, and it was probably a little forward to ask to watch him on camera, but I could certainly place them outside. Motion sensors too. With my hearing, I probably didn’t need cameras in the house anyway—I heard most things unless we were on opposite sides of our houses and he was talking quietly.
So maybe a camera somewhere in his bedroom would be a good idea. Or maybe I should just start staying over. Although I thought humans had rules about things like that. It was rather frustrating.
I would not allow the dream vision I’d had the other day to become a reality. Toby would not be kidnapped by some psycho stalker. I was the only psycho stalker he needed in his life.
I realized that was a bit unhinged, but oh well. He had the protection of a hellhound, whether he wanted it or not.