“Oh, thank the Fates,” a woman’s voice cried out. The door opened to reveal a thirty-something woman with short, dark hair. Based on the bags under her eyes, it’d been ages since she’d gotten any sleep.

And it wasn’t hard to see why; behind her, a dog was tearing into a very expensive-looking throw pillow. That, Rachel could handle; she’d seen worse since she started her dog-walking business.

No, the problem she had was the two extra heads the dog had, all fighting over it.