When the brindle bulldog became aware of a hand waving unexpectedly beneath his chin, he cast only a glance at the human nuisance who dared to disturb his fun. Concentrating once again on the cat, he intensified his snarl. However, a feeling of peace began overcoming him, and he quickly lost interest in ripping the feline to shreds. Sitting back on his haunches, the dog resented the sensation of wet warmth that was spreading across his chest. Raising one front paw after another, as if stepping to a drummer's slow and deliberate beat, he also resented the fact that his paws were getting wet.

As her enemy sank into a lifeless heap in a pool of his own blood, the orange tabby relaxed, meowing her thanks to the stranger who was already some distance away.

James heard, but continued to run. There was no time to waste, his mission was too important. Anticipation on the rise, he did not bother to fold his bloody switchblade, pocketing the knife. The next life he was going to take would be that of a man.

Author Bio

Book 3 - Half a Dozen