Storm Crossed

by Dani Harper

  “Really? Why do you think that is?”

  “Duh! It makes his skin itchy—no, prickly, kind of.”

  “That wouldn’t feel very good. Is it like that for you, too, if I hug you?”

  He just shrugged.

  She sighed inwardly. No real information there. “So, Jake’s comfortable if he just lies next to you, huh.”

  “Yeah. He says he feels good there.”

  “He says so?”

  Another shrug. “We’re friends, so he tells me.” Fox turned back to the box, his hand hovering over the wrapped stones as if debating over a box of chocolates. Finally, he chose a polished golden sphere of citrine that was nearly as large as his fist and pulled the book off the sleeping Jake and onto his lap.

  Lissy recognized the signs. Whatever door had briefly opened was closed again. He was done talking for the moment. But she had some new things to think about as she stood and moved a couple of steps away to give him his space. Morgan had told her once about a senior cat who had abruptly started scratching his owner when she stroked him. Sometimes pets become really sensitive when they’re older, and it’s too stimulating for them. It feels differently to them than to us. It has nothing to do with whether or not they like us.

  It feels differently to them . . . Even as a baby, Fox frequently resisted being picked up or cuddled. He still hated hugs. Sometimes he would approach her or her mother and lean against them, but that was all the contact he ever seemed to want. Just like the dachshund was content to lie next to Fox.

  Jake says he feels good there.

  Jake says. Says?

  Fox doesn’t actually communicate with Jake, does he? Lissy frowned. Her son was so literal that she was almost certain he wasn’t pretending. He’s just really good with animals, that’s all. Lots of people are good with animals! Maybe Fox simply sensed what they were feeling. Heaven knew, they certainly sensed Fox and came to him immediately. The dogs we meet in the park, that trooper’s horse in the parade, the chickens in the Easter display . . . even Brooke’s cats. Rory, Bouncer, and Jade never left Fox’s side for a second whenever he visited the shop.

  Another gift, perhaps, just like her mother said. Maybe magic, maybe not.

  At least this gift wasn’t as scary as the incident with the blue chairs—dammit, I’ve got to talk to Brooke about that before I go crazy. Maybe Wednesday or, better yet, Thursday, I’ll take Fox to Handcastings. He could be ready for another outing by then. And while he played with his feline buddies, she could confide her fears to her friend. Brooke would undoubtedly tell her not to worry, and that would be that. Still, Lissy shivered again, and goose bumps ran up and down her arms and legs. Nerves. Just nerves. Maybe if she sat close to the campfire for a while, she could dispel the sudden chill.

  Of course, it was a lot more than a mere campfire at the moment. Sharon and Katie had worked for more than an hour to construct a towering bonfire. Aidan had brought by an unbelievable amount of wood earlier in the day just for that purpose, and Brooke had whispered a spell of diversion on the enormous pile so no one would see it or run into it. Park rules forbade open fires, providing tiny iron grills for charcoal instead. The rules were there for good reason considering the tinder-dry conditions of the surrounding land, but again, Brooke’s magical talents contained the tall blaze and every spark it cast. When the park opened for visitors in the morning, there wouldn’t be so much as a scorch mark left upon the ground.

  A fresh burst of laughter erupted from the fireside, and Lissy sighed, then smacked a palm to her head. Some of the people I love most in the world are right here, right now, and here I am wasting this precious time worrying about something that’s probably nothing. I’m going to sit by that fire, have a good time with my friends, and forget I ever heard about magic!

  Just as she was about to reclaim her camp chair, however, a movement in the distance caught her eye. Something huge and dark emerged from the shadowy canyon—

  There was no time to shout a warning, no time to even draw breath before it was among them. Lissy was dimly aware of her friends screaming and scattering. Instead of pursuing them, the nightmarish beast leapt impossibly high above the roaring bonfire, where the tall flames appeared to hold it aloft like so many supplicating hands, outlining its immense proportions with vivid orange light and glowing red sparks. Her startled mind registered massive jaws, long pointed teeth, and a heavily muscled body as the gargoyle / creature / animal / Jesus, is that a dog? landed soundlessly in front of her on four paws that would dwarf a lion’s.

  Lissy braced for the attack. But the massive canine ignored her completely. Instead, it almost knocked her down as it bounded past, heading straight toward her son.

  Every protective instinct she had took over. “Fox!” she screamed as she ran. The big animal was fast, but she was desperate, throwing herself on his hindquarters just as he reached the little boy. “Get away from him, get away!” Grabbing great handfuls of the dog’s hide, Lissy hauled backward with all her might. Fury and fear gave her strength, but the velvety pelt was loose, hanging in great folds like the skin of a bloodhound. The dog himself remained completely unmoved. He hadn’t attacked Fox—yet—but his great wrinkled muzzle hovered over him, sniffing him as an immense tiger might sniff a tiny mouse, considering whether it was worth eating. Lissy seized its shoulder, next grabbed an ear, then the pendulous creases of its face, pulling herself along as if traversing a cliff face, until she could shove her own body between the enormous mouth and her child. Wisely or not, she turned her back on the beast to curl herself around Fox, caging him in her arms, uncaring what might happen to her as long as he was protected. Her friends were attacking the dog now, yelling at it, hitting it, trying to drive him off. Sharon had a black belt in karate. A fiery shower of violet sparks struck the ground nearby—Brooke was using her magic. Even Jake had leapt to Fox’s defense and now hung by his sharp little teeth from the giant dog’s thick lip. A whittled hot-dog stick clattered to the ground beside her, and Lissy snatched it up—

  “Mom! Mom!” Her son struggled in the tight confines of her arms.

  “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. I won’t let anything—”

  “No, Mom, stop it, the dog won’t hurt us. He won’t hurt us! Make them stop hitting him! Make them stop!”

  Something in the tone of his voice got through to her. Fox should have been terrified, yet he wasn’t afraid. Not for himself, not for her. He’s afraid for the dog! Because of it, he was teetering on a high-wire, about to lose all control. The last thing they needed was for him to have a kicking-screaming-crying fit in this situation—who knew what the big animal would do? Lissy turned her head ever so carefully and glanced upward. The dog’s face looked as broad as a grizzly’s and was mere inches from her own. Nostrils the width of her fist flared, taking in her scent. And without any warning at all, a wet tongue the size of a towel blanketed her face.

  Fox took advantage of her surprise to wriggle free.

  She scooted backward, spitting and wiping her face on her sleeve. Her vision cleared to take in a surreal sight. Her friends had all stepped back, unsure of what to do—save for Jake, who still swung like a furry earring from the monster dog’s slobbery flews. But nine-year-old Fox stood with his arms as far around the dog’s tree-trunk neck as he could reach, though his headlamp barely shone over the animal’s broad back. Incredibly, his great tail wagged slowly but enthusiastically.

  A gift . . .

  Heart hammering, her legs felt shaky as Lissy made it to her feet. “Fox,” she called softly. “Fox, honey, we don’t know anything about this dog. Maybe you should come away from—”

  He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I told you he was coming, dude. I told you and you didn’t listen.” As if she were an idiot. As if there wasn’t a goddamn hellhound standing in their midst, looking for all the world like a drawing from her brother’s comic-book series, Devina of Hades. The implications suddenly struck her like a blow. A hellhound. George’s award-winning artwork hadn
’t sprung entirely from his imagination . . .

  Omigod.

  “Brooke? Morgan?” She hated that her voice trembled, but she forced the question out just the same. “This isn’t a grim, is it? Is it?” A grim was a herald of Death, according to the old fae legends. “You’ve seen them before. You can tell, can’t you?” She glared at the dog. Not my son. Not my child, not Fox. You can’t have him!

  Big yellow-gold eyes stared calmly back at her, and she was again forced to fend off the giant tongue with her hands. “Yuck, no!”

  Her question broke the paralysis of uncertainty that had gripped everyone but Fox. Morgan stepped up and ran her hands along the heavily muscled frame as if examining a prize steer. Sharon was right at her elbow, still in a karate stance, guarding the veterinarian.

  Strangely, the animal took no notice of them.

  “I admit, it does resemble a grim,” Morgan said at last. “But it looks a lot more like a Neapolitan mastiff, both in conformation and color. Although it’s sure a lot bigger than my Fred.” That was saying a lot—the veterinarian had adopted a rescued mastiff the size of a small pony, and its shoulders were level with Lissy’s waist. “Frankly, I’ve never seen any canine this tall.”

  Tina was still brandishing a tree branch like a club. “The color’s wrong,” she declared. “Grims are supposed to be black.”

  “I’m with you guys on this. Not a grim.” Brooke walked slowly around the great dog. “For one thing, he’s not giving off any bad vibes. Plus, the strongest spells I have are for protection, specifically for defense against evil intent. They just fizzled out as soon as they touched this big guy. But I sure don’t know what he is or why he’s here.”

  “This whole situation is nuts! Will you look at us, just standing around talking about a dog big enough to ride? It’s like one of those giant pet pictures on Facebook.” Katie had already lowered the camp shovel she’d been wielding and took snapshots with her phone. “But everyone knows those memes are Photoshopped, and this is so frickin’ real.”

  “Yeah, but define real,” said Sharon. “I used some of my best kicks, but I couldn’t even get Mr. Wrinkles’s attention. I’m pretty sure a flesh-and-blood animal would react. Even an elephant would react a little. So what does that make this thing but an escapee from the fae realm?”

  Not a grim. That was some relief at least. Lissy had eased her way around the creature’s huge head to stand by her son. But what do I do now? Who lets their kid maul a strange dog—or a fantasy creature—capable of swallowing him whole? It was like being trapped in the tiger cage at the zoo.

  Sure, she could forcibly pick up Fox and carry him away, but her son would almost certainly have a meltdown of truly epic proportions. Lissy was prepared to deal with that, but how would Fox’s giant new pal react? What if it upset the dog? What if the dog thought the boy needed protecting or, worse, that his screams made him sound like prey?

  Right now, the oversize canine simply stood there in their midst like a big goofy pet, its long tail still wagging and an affable expression on its enormous wrinkly face. And despite her friends’ determined attempts to defend her and Fox, the dog didn’t seem to hold it against any of them in the least. Yet.

  “What are you doing here?” demanded a new voice, a rich, masculine voice, and every one of her friends fell silent.

  Oh, great, we’ve attracted a park ranger, thought Lissy as she turned to face this new issue. How are we going to explain—

  It was no ranger. The first thing her eyes took in was a heavy black cloak, thrown back to reveal strange leather clothing. Ornately tooled and trimmed with silver, it hugged a lean frame.

  No, some instinct decided, not lean but lithe. Lithe like a big cat, all coiled agility and snake-strike muscle in a deceptively relaxed package. She was forced to tilt her head to see the strong jaw that underscored the man’s angular face—and beneath it, the silvery scar that ran diagonally across his throat from beneath his left ear until it disappeared into the right side of his collar. Far from being a blemish, however, the scar only added interest to otherwise perfect features. Less obvious was a strange otherness to his appearance that she felt rather than saw. Human, yet decidedly not. And no human she knew boasted hair like that. Pulled into a thick braid that fell halfway down his back, it was white in the way that snow was white—not a single shade but many.

  She had to remind herself to breathe. This was no lost cosplay enthusiast or a Lord of the Rings extra but an actual living, breathing member of the faery race. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a faint thought protested that such a thing was completely impossible. It wasn’t very convincing, however, with a flesh-and-blood dog the size of a goddamn Volkswagen already in front of her.

  The man’s pale hair glowed in the fire’s light. A fistful of loose strands fell across his face, and beneath them his eyes were watchful, alert. A panther scanning for prey.

  And he had found her.

  SIX

  The stranger’s unnerving gaze lingered for only a moment before apparently dismissing her. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, and Lissy realized he spoke to the enormous canine behind her.

  “Wait a sec. This is your dog? Yours?” All the shock and fear of the past few minutes transmuted into anger. She’d been prepared to die defending her child, and this man, this being, was responsible! It was as if a switch inside had been thrown, and she stepped into his line of sight. “What the hell were you thinking, letting this animal run around loose like that?” she demanded.

  He merely looked around her, as if she were a tree or a bush or a goddamn rock, and that just ramped up her fury. “You! I’m talking to you!” Without thought but backed by a considerable amount of adrenaline, she shoved him with all her strength. The element of surprise gave her an extra advantage, and the tall man stumbled back a step.

  Now she had his full attention.

  Most nature documentaries she’d watched advised against locking stares with wild animals, yet Lissy stood her ground and met the stranger’s riveting gaze boldly—despite her resentment at having to look up to do it. She all but bared her teeth as she stated her case: “You. Endangered. My. Son.”

  “There was no danger to your offspring. The hound does not devour mortals.”

  Was he mocking her with that imperious tone? “Yeah, well, us mortals had no way of knowing that your monster dog doesn’t snack on humans. You have no right to frighten people like that!”

  “I require no rights from you. I ride with the Hunt.”

  Her gaze flicked to a faint ripple of movement at his side. The heavy cloak drew aside as if by its own volition, and the fae’s hand casually rested on the handle of a large coil of plaited leather at his hip. Ghostly tongues of bluish light flickered continually over the heavy whip, here then gone in an instant only to reappear in a different spot, as if they were living things.

  Lissy could hear some gasps from her cluster of friends and some hurried words between Morgan and Brooke. Though she’d never encountered the Wild Hunt herself, she knew that had to be what the stranger referred to. As a mere human, she should be utterly terrified.

  Instead, she couldn’t care less if he were a unicorn. “Well, I require a goddamn apology from you, mister,” she heard herself say, and folded her arms to wait.

  Brooke was at her elbow immediately, whispering urgently in her ear. “Come on, let’s go. We should just let this fae”—obviously she emphasized the word in case Lissy hadn’t clued in to the stranger’s species—“take his pet and leave.”

  “He’s not a pet!” The indignant voice came from Fox, who still clung to the dog like a limpet, although Sharon and Katie were working hard to coax him away without triggering a nuclear incident. “He’s his brother.”

  The bizarre statement was enough to make Lissy decide in favor of Brooke’s advice then and there. Before she could even take a step, however, the tall fae loomed over her son. His otherworldly features were still as emotionless as a mask, but his tone w
as clearly that of someone accustomed to being obeyed. “Tell me why you say that!”

  “Hey, you don’t get to question him!” she shouted, trying to break the combined death grip of Morgan, Sharon, and Brooke. Her friends had hold of her arms as if she were about to leap into an active volcano. “He’s a minor! He’s just a little boy!”

  Her son showed no fear, however. The fae and the child regarded each other, oblivious to her or anyone else. “Because Braith told me,” Fox said with a shrug, then paused. “He says to tell you that he hasn’t forgotten who you are.” He eyed the tall being curiously from head to toe. “If he’s really your brother, dude, why would he forget you? And how come he’s a dog? Can I have a dog for a brother? I like dogs. Do you like dogs?”

  The towering faery was silent. Although his expression betrayed nothing, Lissy got the impression that he honestly didn’t know how to respond. And she’d bet money that he’d never been called dude in his entire life! Welcome to my world, she thought wryly. Since Fox had first latched on to the word, she’d seldom been called Mom since. The lack of response from the fae didn’t discourage her son one bit, however. Fox only talked when he felt like it, but once he got started, there was no stopping him.

  “Braith is a way cool name. I like the way it feels when I say it. Braith. Braith. Do you have a cool name, too? What is it?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he added, “My name is—”

  “Time for bedtime snacks!” Brooke shouted, startling everyone into looking at her. Her attention was solely on Lissy’s son, however. “I have peanut butter cookies in my backpack just for you, bud.” Ignoring the tall stranger completely, Brooke walked over to the child with her hand outstretched. “Do you want to eat them in your tent or go home and eat them at your house? You tell me which idea you like better.”

  “With milk in a blue glass?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Fox addressed the giant dog. “You can be my friend, Braith. I gotta go now.” He looked up at Brooke. “Can my friend have some cookies, too?”