The basement was cold and wet, all stone floors and packed dirt walls. I took a long, deep breath and steadied myself. Clashes of thunder surrounded us on all sides. The wood in the walls of the house groaned with the force of the beating wind. Canned peaches and corn shook on their metal shelves on the opposite side of us, threatening to fall.

I'd be fooling myself if I said I was shocked it had come to this. The moment I realized who and what I was, I'd known I would be faced with the ultimate sacrifice. The time had come.

With a somewhat twisted sense of irony, it occurred to me that I could be both the hero and the villain of this story. My face halfway lit by the flashlight, I gave Sparky a lopsided grin at the thought of it—I mean, how many times does a person get to do that?

If a sparrow could look disgusted, he did at that moment. Your idiotic thoughts never cease to amaze me. He clucked his beak. Get serious. His dark eyes searched mine. I know you can sense when he's near. Where is he now?

Closing my eyes, I honed in on the evil essence that he carried with him at all times. Strange—the energy of the storm seemed to be messing with my senses. There was definitely something ominous lurking about in the darkness, but I couldn't say for certain it was him. The uncanny spirit connection I'd felt every other time wasn't there—or it was deliberately being masked.

In the corner, something sprang up and the flashlight whipped around wildly. Winter stood, her hair hanging in wet strands around her face. Her wide eyes casting a ghostly glow in the flashlight's beam.

"It was Sheldon!" She wailed out, her voice competing with the clashing outside. "He was there in the woods! He tried to kill me—he tried to kill Winnie. I'm sure he killed Dawson somehow. He's crazy! Insane!" Her eyes widened. "He's coming back here, I know it! He's not going to stop!"

Terrence's grip tightened on the gun, which was now pointed squarely at the basement stairs. Mr. Rose wrapped his arms around his daughter, his mouth moving. The words were lost in the storm.

Where is he? Sparky projected impatiently.

I—I don't know, I admitted, once again feeling useless. I can't tell.

Convenient. The little bird's thoughts were dripping with suspicion.

Then I heard it. A small noise in the raging storm. It was so quiet, there was no way I could have picked it out without the help of something—bigger. Maybe—just maybe—the Creator was lending us a hand.

My ears sprang forward and turned at the soft footsteps above us. As if realizing I'd heard them, they stopped abruptly.

I breathed in deeply and let out a shaky breath. Shit. I think he's here. Upstairs.

The little sparrow leapt up. What? Here? Now? How!? Sparky ruffled and shook his feathers out, pacing the length of my back. Does he have a weapon?

How the hell would I know that? It's not like I can see him.

If he has come here, we can bet he has a weapon, the sparrow reasoned, still pacing. Suddenly he stopped, mid-pace—frozen.

The storm seemed to be letting up outside, the thunder growing more and more distant. I looked over my shoulder at Sparky, questioning his sudden stillness.

His dark eyes were wide. We're sitting ducks. All of us here in the basement. Only one way out.

My chest tightened at the thought and I took a step back looking at the stairs. He's got something waiting for us when we come up. My heart knocked against my ribs. Some kind of trap. A fire? A gun? Something—."

The humans need to know that he's waiting, Winnie's thoughts cut in. She stood, a little quivering white blur on the other side of the room. Winter's expression matched hers, as she watched us.

Despite our current predicament, my tail wagged involuntarily at seeing Winnie stand. She was okay.

How? I projected. How do we tell them?

I glanced around at our meager surroundings, scarcely lit by the lone flashlight. No Scrabble games, no pen or pencils. There was a low snap outside. My ears flew up, pointing forward. All at once, the storm let up.

"I think it's over." Terrence's voice easily rose above the last of the storm's rumblings. He stood and holstered his gun, running his hands along his pants to dry them.

To my horror, the group began to stand.

Acting fast, I stood, barring the way to the stairs with Sparky on my shoulder. Winnie fell in beside me, legs planted firmly.

Mr. Rose shone the flashlight on the three of us. Our eyes bore into theirs, willing them to stay where they were.

"What are they doing?" he asked.

"They don't want us to go upstairs," Lance answered, giving the stairs a cautious glance. "Remember what Winter told us? These dogs are—special. They know things. And there's the bird again, riding on the dog." He ran his hand through his hair and stifled a nervous laugh.

"Is he up there, Pickle?" Winter's voice came in a whisper, her eyes wide.

I nodded my head. Well—that was easier than I'd anticipated, no Scrabble letters after all.

Her breath caught and she turned to Terrence. "Sheldon's in the house. He's upstairs."

Terrence's face twisted, "How the hell? How'd he get here in that storm?" His eyes landed on Sparky, still perched on my back. He faltered, his hand shaking as he reached for the gun in its holster. "What is with that bird?"

"He's one of them," Winter concluded in a low voice. "Whoever they are."

"What are you talking about?" One of the officers attempted to push past them and make his way up the stairs.

Lance grabbed a hold of his arm, "Stay here." 

"You're all insane," the officer mumbled. But the look on Lance's face convinced him to step aside and do as he was told. 

"What do we do?" Lance asked.

It took a minute for me to realize the question was directed at me. I blinked. What? Did he think I was going to come out and tell him?

The two officers scoffed, mumbling under their breath. Terrence shifted uncomfortably beside them, clearly torn between supporting Winter and saving his reputation.

Well—the pressure was on. Winnie nudged me, her blue eyes soft in the glowing light. We go first, she projected. We must kill him, before it's too late.

I took a breath and stepped towards the stairs. Winnie followed close behind.

"Let them go first," said Lance surprising me as he seemingly read my mind. "They want us to stay here." 

"Come on Terrence," one of the officers scoffed, pulling his hat from his head. "Tell me you aren't letting these dogs go up there while we stay behind and wait. This is crazy."

Terrence sighed, stepping past us to the stairs, his gun drawn."Sorry Lance," he said. "I can't rely on your special dogs to give us commands."

Damn stubborn fool, Sparky projected, shaking his head. I should have seen that coming.

We were left to follow him up the stairs, the others trailing cautiously behind us. With the electricity still off, it was pitch black. Through human eyes, it would have been impossible to see a single thing. But, through the eyes of a dog, I could make out the outlines the of kitchen and the foyer beyond as we approached the back door.

Every inch of my body prickled as I looked into the kitchen. An urgent memory was trying to show itself from the back of my mind, but I wasn't able to retrieve it. I sensed something bad would happen if we went in there. It was too quiet. But why didn't I sense him?

Terrence swung the gun around to point it towards the kitchen and quickly glanced behind, his eyes connecting with Lance's. "Get Winter out of here, put her in the car, and get her as far away as possible until this is finished," he commanded.

Mr. Rose twisted the knob and opened the door. Outside it was just as black and still. Stiflingly still. Not a breeze or a sound. Everything about the world outside the door screamed, Stop! Don't go!

I let out a low growl and caught a piece of Winter's shirt, pulling her from the door.

What now!? Sparky's thoughts shot at me. Why are you stopping her? I thought you said he was in the house?

"This damn dog is going to get us all killed!" one of the officers spat, grabbing me by the rough of the neck and pulling me backwards, causing me to lose grip of Winter's shirt.

"Go on, get her into the car." Terrence whipped his head around, clearly irritated with me.

"What's wrong, Pickle?" Winter's dark eyes rested on mine. She cupped her hand on my head. "What's outside?"

Make up your mind, you bloody idiot! Is he in here or out there?! Sparky's thoughts practically screamed at me.

Shit! I couldn't tell which way was up with all of them screaming at me all at once. My heart knocked against my chest as I eyed the open door—the feeling hadn't left. Behind me, I heard the steps again, maybe as close as the kitchen. He could be lurking somewhere in the shadows watching us, waiting to strike.

I squinted at the blackness in front of us. Why did I feel that once I stepped outside, I'd never make it back?

Pickle. Winnie's nose nudged mine.

Alright, alright. I reluctantly nudged Winter forward. They crossed the threshold into the night. Winnie, Sparky and I followed, leaving Terrence and his men to face whatever was in the house alone.

The moment my paws touched the earth outside, I saw it coming towards me. Its yellow eyes locked onto mine as it dove. We collided, head to head. The huge owl dropped to the ground, lifeless. A jolt of energy racked its way through my body, sending me sprawling on the ground beside it. NO!

Your can't change fate. 

Darkness. Anger. Rage. They all coursed through my veins like a drug. Next to me, Winnie and Sparky looked from the dead body of the owl to me, their eyes widening. Winnie stepped back, lifting a paw nervously.

I fought to keep it at bay, but it demanded to enter—so incredibly strong. Overpowering. Desperate. Familiar.

Visions—no—memories flooded back. Back to where they belonged, interweaving with the good memories I'd been able to relish without their presence.

My mother, that bitch. Alcoholic bitch. She had to go out, she couldn't let a lowly parasite hold her back.

Alone. Locked in a dark room. All night—sometimes all day. Calling her name until my voice was raw.

She was a useless whore. They all were. My eyes locked onto Winter, seeing through the fake concern in her eyes.

Especially Winter.  I'd trusted her.  I was a fool. She needed to be taught a lesson. She needed to know how it felt to be cold and lonely and afraid.  

Hello fellow Wattpadders! Thanks for coming this far! Will Pickle be able to overcome his evil side? It was easy for him to help Winter without his evil side around, but now the real battle begins! Just a few more chapters until the grand finale! Please vote if you enjoy this story and support it in the Watty's 2016 if you feel it deserves it! Thanks!