Black Dog Short Stories Read online

  You will recall that genes, and therefore alleles, come in pairs. Now: if one allele by itself is sufficient to fully create a particular phenotype, without needing to be reinforced by the other gene of the pair, then that allele is said to be dominant. If an allele needs to be homozygous to create a phenotypic trait, that allele is said to be recessive.

  Years of teaching and more years of reading have made it clear to me that there are many incorrect definitions of “dominant” out there, so let me add this: Dominant alleles are not necessarily common in the overall population, nor are they necessarily beneficial, nor are they more likely to be passed on to offspring. Recessive alleles can be beneficial or neutral or deleterious, and in any case can be very common or even ubiquitous (fixed) in a population. For example, 100% of all Golden Retrievers are recessive at the extension locus (ee). That’s why they’re all blond.

  Naturally, in the real world, things are a lot more complicated than the dominant/recessive dichotomy implies. For example, often one allele is not able to fully create a particular phenotype. In that case, dominance is said to be partial or incomplete. If a particular gene includes three or more alleles, then some of the alleles may show complete dominance and others may show partial dominance and still others may be entirely recessive. For example, at the spotting locus in dogs, there is a series of four alleles that run through solid color (Labrador Retriever) through flashy white markings (Bernese Mountain Dog) and pinto spotting (Cavalier King Charles Spaniel) to extended white (Clumber Spaniel). Solid color is completely dominant to all kinds of spotting patterns and then dominance is partial as you go down the list, which is why you get such a wide range of spotting patterns in dogs.

  Though we’re always hearing about “the gene” for this and “the gene” for that, in fact, it’s relatively rare for a particular phenotypic trait to be created by a single gene. More often, traits are created by the interactions of two or three or more genes. For example, the trait of “coat color” in dogs is controlled by more than a dozen interacting genes. These traits are often called polygenic.

  In one type of polygenic interaction, one gene may disable another or change how the first is expressed, in interactions that are referred to as epistatic or hypostatic. For example, if a horse is chestnut or sorrel (ee at the extension locus, the same genotype that gives us Golden Retrievers), then the production of black and brown eumelanin is suppressed and the action of the agouti alleles that code for black and brown color are rendered invisible. Because the extension gene can hide the agouti gene, the former is said to be epistatic to the latter.

  In another type of polygenic interaction, one gene may reinforce another, so that several genes act together to add up to one phenotypic trait. Human skin color is created by many interacting genes, each of which might (or might not) add a “dose” of melanin. This is why so many different skin tones are possible for humans.

  Traits created by a single gene are said to be simple. Traits created by many interacting genes are said to be complex. Complex traits are sometimes also strongly influenced by the environment as well as by the genes involved. In that case, they may be referred to as multifactorial.

  Whew. With all that out of the way, now we can finally talk about black dog genetics!

  Black Dog Genetics

  The black dog / Pure / human phenotypes are controlled by a system of three interacting unlinked genes.

  First, there is an x-linked allele, the Xe allele, which seems to have appeared as a mutation of the XE allele possibly tens of thousands of years ago, possibly more than once. (Some mutations occur a lot more frequently than others.) This allele confers natural resistance against all manner of demonic influences – whether the result of black dog influence (in Europe, the Middle East, and the Americas) or witches (Africa, Polynesia) or vampires (until very recently, everywhere except East Asia).

  Individuals homozygous for the Xe allele are more resistant to demonic influence than individuals heterozygous for it. No doubt you immediately realize that women may be Xe Xe , whereas the best a genetically normal man can hope for is a Xe Y genotype.

  Though widespread, this allele is not all that common, although naturally some lucky families or whole populations carry it at a high frequency. You would think that the Xe allele would tend to increase in all populations, and it probably does, but some kinds of demonic influences tend to target people carrying that allele, so it evens out.

  Next, the autosomal black dog gene is a simple gene with two alleles. The completely dominant allele, B, always makes an individual into a black dog. Though everyone with even one B allele will be a black dog, homozygous BB individuals have stronger “black dog shadows” than heterozygous Bb individuals. This is not a good thing, since without enhanced control, a stronger shadow means that you are more likely to be “consumed” by your shadow, gradually losing your humanity and becoming a purely demonic monster.

  Individuals must be homozygous for the recessive b allele in order to be normal humans. Obviously, b is by far the more common allele in all human populations.

  Finally, a mutation to the autosomal resistance gene created the Pure. The Pure actually arose in about 750 AD, in Germany, through an apparently miraculous intervention by Saint Walburga, so this appears to have been a directed rather than a spontaneous mutation. (Saint Walburga was a real person; you should look her up; her bio makes fascinating reading. I coopted her into the secret history of the Black Dog world because she is really perfect for this miracle.)

  Anyway, before the saint intervened, the only allele at this locus was r, “no resistance.” The miracle acted to create the partially dominant rp allele. The rp allele always confers additional resistance to demonic influence. It cannot create the Pure by itself, but anyone who is homozygous for both the rp allele and the Xe allele at the same time is Pure – but only if she would otherwise be a black dog. You see this is a complex trait! A Pure individual must always have the genotype Bb rprp Xe Xe or BB rprp Xe Xe . That’s why all the Pure are women and why the Pure never appear in an exclusively human family. If black dogs were ever wiped out, the Pure would disappear as well.

  For black dogs, the more rp alleles and Xe alleles you have, the more control you will have over your demonic shadow. Dimilioc has been breeding for both the rp allele and the Xe allele for hundreds of years, though not with perfect consistency because we’re talking about people here, not cows, and people have their own ideas about this kind of thing. Still, Ezekiel’s genotype is almost certainly BB rprp XeY – he is a very strong black dog with a whole lot of control over his demonic shadow, and because of individual variation and unusual determination, both his strength and his control are exceptional even for this genotype.

  But there’s more! Somewhere around 1110 AD, probably in the flourishing Jewish community in Spain, a second mutation occurred at the r locus, producing the R allele, which is partially dominant to both other alleles at this locus. This mutation almost certainly occurred as a result of another directed, miraculous intervention, but the details are not known. It’s clear, though, that the R allele already existed before the Islamic sect Almohades took control in Spain and outlawed both Judaism and Christianity – in the world of Black Dog, the Almohades sect was actually established by a black dog family. Anyway, the R mutation spread from Spain along the lines of the Sephardic Jewish migrations into Portugal, Italy, Morocco, Egypt, Tunisia, and later into Turkey during the Ottoman period. Eventually the R allele was carried by continuing population migrations into Eastern and Western Europe and South and North America. It is still most common in families descended from Sephardic Jews.

  Dimilioc doesn’t know anything about the R allele, though at the present time it’s probably more widespread than the rp allele. Here’s the most important part: Unlike the rp allele, the R allele can interact with the Xe Xe genotype to create the Pure phenotype even if one or the other gene occurs in heterozygous form.

  Without the R allele, there is only one poss
ible genotype (out of thirty) that can give rise to the Pure. With the R allele, ten out of thirty possible genotypes produce the Pure, and two of those give rise to Pure males. This does not mean that any population anywhere has a third of all children turn out to be Pure. Remember that in all populations, the B allele and both the R and the rp alleles are relatively rare, and the Xe allele is also far from ubiquitous.

  It is worth noting here that demonic influences strongly influence Mendelian ratios – in other words, strict probability does not govern black dog inheritance. When a black dog produces a child with a human, as for example in this cross:

  Bb rr XeY x bb rpr XEXE

  Then there should be a 50% chance of producing a black dog child. But the chance is actually significantly higher. Similarly, there should be a 50% chance of the mother passing on her rp allele or the father passing on his Xe allele to a child, but in fact the chance of either is significantly lower. All this taken together makes it most likely for this cross to produce a black dog son and least likely for it to produce a human daughter.

  Also, in a long-term relationship, a black dog will “corrupt” a human mate, a process which influences the expected Mendelian ratios to an even greater degree: the risk of producing strong black dog sons that lack control and are consumed by their shadows increases with each birth. This is not true if a black dog produces a child with a Pure mate, however. The Pure may not be perfect, but they are incorruptible by direct demonic influence. That’s why they’re called Pure.

  Outside of Dimilioc and other civilized black dog families, most black dog / human offspring result from rape. This is typical of “stray” black dogs, who are usually savage and violent in all their relationships. Around the time of the full moon, they’re likely to kill; but when the moon is new, they’re more likely to rape a woman than kill her. This is what maintains the black dog gene in the general population – otherwise it would quickly decrease in frequency and there would be few or no “stray” black dogs. Black dogs carrying one or more of the various resistance alleles are more likely to be able to control their vicious tendencies, but only if they are taught that control is desirable, which seldom happens outside the civilized black dog families. The Pure can conduct a permanent Calming magic on a black dog, which is very effective, but of course this, too, is not likely outside of civilized black dog families.

  At different times, many areas of the world have suffered from the existence of black dog families that valued strength and control, but hated the Pure. Where black dogs had a lot of influence and hatred of the Pure was particularly strong, this propensity led to the subjugation of women in general. This attitude has tended to infect the surrounding human cultures, with unfortunate results. Thus in the world of Black Dog, women are seriously oppressed in, say, Saudi Arabia – where Keziah and Amira are from – but not in Lebanon, Tunisia, or Morocco, all of which had black dog houses that valued the Pure.

  Now that the vampire miasma has been removed and humans have become aware of black dogs, human societies may finally begin to reject all kinds of demonically inspired attitudes and hatreds – we can hope! In that way, at least, the world of Black Dog may actually face a brighter near-future than seems likely for the real world.

  Pure Magic, Chapter One

  Justin had not been looking for a church. Sanctuary . . . that, maybe.

  Not, God knew, from enemies. He had no enemies. Was it logical to want sanctuary from your friends? I heard what happened, Justin. I’m so sorry. How are you doing? Do you want to talk about it? He did not want to talk about it. Nothing would get better just because he talked about it.

  Worst of all were the ones who tried to say something unique and creative. Whatever they said, it came out stupid or offensive. At least you’re not too young, you’ll get over this, you’ll be fine.

  Justin had wanted to shout, “Don’t tell me I’ll be fine!” He’d wanted to put that on a tee shirt, violent blood-red letters on a black shirt – maybe that would have gotten the idea through a few dense skulls. He wanted a tee shirt that said You can’t help, so just shut the hell up. That would shock everyone who thought he was so even-tempered, such a nice guy.

  But he wanted everyone to know what had happened. He wanted the world to stop. The clear sunlit beauty of the desert spring was an offense. He wanted to tear the blossoms off all the flowers.

  He couldn’t stay. Everyone had thought that after the funeral, he would go back to Roswell with his grandmother. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear her grief layered on top of his own. He’d left a note and his cellphone in the middle of his mother’s desk, in her study, on top of a stack of ungraded tests that he supposed now some TA would have to grade, and cleared out the account that was supposed to be for college, and walked out.

  And now he was here. Not anywhere in particular, because he had no idea where he was going. Just here, wherever here was: one nondescript town in a chain of nondescript towns, linked like gritty beads on the necklace of the train tracks. The train conductor had announced the town’s name, but Justin couldn’t remember it now. He didn’t care. He hadn’t cared, when he’d walked out, where he was going. Just away, out, gone. Out of the desert, north and east into a cold country where the gray weather knew how to echo loss. To this grimy street in this nameless industrial town with a cheap bar on one side of the street and a ridiculously gothic church on the other. Was it possible to want sanctuary from yourself?

  Stopping, his hands jammed in his pockets and the collar of his jacket turned up against the chill, Justin looked up the church’s wide, curving stairway. It led, in a smooth arc containing fourteen rises and thirteen runs, with a total rotation of . . . just over a hundred and four degrees, up to a pair of great carved doors standing between panels of stained glass.

  Justin had meant to go into the bar, get a burger or wings or something. A beer. They probably didn’t card, in a place like that. A beer would be good.

  But now there was this church. Somehow, despite its grimy surroundings, despite the smells of hot oil and stale beer emanating from the bar, the church contrived to look solid and honest and perfectly at home. A sudden sharp longing for the hot wind of the desert, for the homey scents of hot concrete and acrid mesquite, closed Justin’s throat. His mother had always insisted he attend service with her . . . he hadn’t minded.

  So, yeah, maybe he was looking for sanctuary. Following a half-felt impulse, he put his foot on the first step.

  Then someone opened the door from within, came out, closed the door behind him, and turned, with a jingle of keys, to lock it. Then he turned again, caught Justin’s eye, and paused.

  Justin, obscurely embarrassed, took his foot quickly off the step and pretended he had not meant to go up the stairs to those doors.

  “Sorry!” said the man. He was a big man, comfortably heavy without actually being fat, with a round good-natured face and an easy smile. He was wearing ordinary clothes: a tan jacket and jeans. Justin wouldn’t have realized he was actually a priest except for the white collar showing at his throat.

  The priest said, “I lock up at six unless there’s a late service. I don’t like to, but I also don’t like to find drunks in the sacristy when I come in in the morning! But I can leave it till later just this once, if you’d like to come in.”

  “No,” Justin said hurriedly. “No, never mind. I mean, thanks anyway, but it doesn’t matter.”

  “It’s no bother,” said the priest, and, looking at him closely, added, “Or come back to the rectory, if you like. I’m not much as a cook, but I was just going to heat up some baked beans, make toast, fry some ham. And there’s a cake. I didn’t make it; don’t worry about that!”

  Justin felt his face heat. “You rescue runaways? That your thing? Because I’m not –”

  “I know!” the priest said quickly. “You don’t look like you’re down to your last dollar, son, but, see, you do look like you might do with an hour of friendly company over buttered toast and baked beans. You�
�d be doing me a favor, believe me! I hate eating alone. I was going to walk down to the art show they’ve got set up down by the river, but to tell you the truth, the blues they’ll be playing, not my favorite. Do join me. I’ll do the talking if you don’t want to. You’ve probably noticed I don’t mind the sound of my own voice. Good thing for a man in my line of work, don’t you think? There’s plenty of ham. Spiral cut,” the priest added in a coaxing tone. “Honey baked. And the cake’s coconut.”

  Friendly company for an hour sounded unexpectedly good. The company of a priest who liked people but didn’t know anything. That sounded . . . like a not-terrible idea. And supper didn’t actually sound bad, either. He gave the priest a narrow look. He seemed like a decent guy. Probably the man just genuinely liked people. Justin could usually tell. “Coconut, huh?”

  “Beautiful thick frosting,” the priest assured him. “The rectory is just around here . . .” he gestured to the right, where a narrow alley led back and around the church.

  Justin took a step after him. “You invite everyone in for supper, do you? Isn’t that kind of risky? Father,” he added belatedly.

  The priest smiled back over his shoulder. “Mark. Father Mark. Yes, well, a nice young man like you, why not? Life’s too short to worry about every little thing, don’t you think? So tell me, are you on your way to someplace, or away from someplace? Don’t answer that if you don’t want to. Right, here we are.” He shoved open an unlocked door in a small brick-fronted house, indistinguishable from all the other buildings along this street except for the small stained glass panel set in the door and, beneath a shuttered window, an ugly concrete window box, empty of flowers in this chilly country where winter lingered into what ought by rights to have been spring.