Hound of Night (Veil Knights Book 2)

by Rowan Casey

  The fog thickened further. As if pushed by the weight on the other side the door swung open with a creak and thick fog rolled in a wave into the library. A shadow came with it, one that took shape until the vague outline of the hound stood before us. It raised its head. Green eyes blazed as its gaze found us.

  Black raised his voice, still singing the chant and motioned with a hand gesture that we should join in. George came in, too. His singing was nervous and hesitant, but he added what he could. The beast growled and paced outside the circle, but did not advance. Instead I took the initiative, stepping forward to the edge of the defenses and raising my voice to a shout.

  "Come on then, I'm here. What are you waiting for?"

  The beast did not back away. It roared back at me with a high howl that set the old chandelier high above swinging, the noise reverberating through the whole house. I would not be surprised if it did not wake half of L.A.

  I dared not take my eyes from the hound.

  It growled deep in its throat, and rocked back on its haunches, ready to leap into an attack. Black sang, George shouted, I bellowed and stamped, but our efforts were not rewarded. The beast grew ever firmer, more solid. Ropy strings of drool fell from slavering jaws and a too-long, too-red tongue lolled as it drew back its lips and smiled at us. The back legs sprung in attack and I braced myself to meet it.

  It never reached me.

  It hit the defensive circle, the chalk lines flared, bright as the sun, and the hound fell away, whimpering as if it had just been kicked. More thick fog swirled just outside the defenses and the hound slunk away into it, until not even a part of it could be seen.

  George yelled in triumph, but it was short-lived. The fog continued to roll in, wave after wave of it filling the room until the library shelves disappeared from view and we were left standing inside a dome of gray, protected by the defenses, but completely surrounded by a lowering, foggy gloom.

  Silence fell once more.

  Somewhere out in the fog the hound breathed heavily. The chalk lines pulsed and dimmed, pulsed and dimmed in golden-yellow time.

  Chapter 24

  Black kept singing, the same Gaelic protective spell. I turned to him.

  "You were supposed to bring her, not the bloody dog."

  He didn't stop singing, but pointed over my shoulder, his eyes suddenly widening. I turned around, already knowing who'd be there.

  Face—her lost Disney princess persona, all blonde hair, blue eyes, flowing dress and dimples, stood just outside the outer chalk ring. She tapped a finger in the air above the circles and the whole pentacle flared in a blaze of gold that was almost blinding. I noticed she didn't try to take another step forward.

  "Hello, darling," she said. "Did you miss me?"

  Beyond her, still in the fog, the hound prowled, snuffling and growling.

  "Nah," I said. "Your sister's a cheap date though—a couple of glasses of whisky and some chocolate—sorted."

  One-nil to me. I saw it in her eyes, she hadn't been expecting the comeback. Like Black, she thought she was in control here. I hoped to persuade her otherwise.

  "Okay, you've got me here," she said, and smiled. "Now what?"

  I put a hand in my pocket.

  "I'll have it now, please, Agnes, darling," I said, hoping she still wasn't snoring by the fire. I had a bad couple of seconds when nothing happened, then the mirror went cold, I felt dampness at my fingers, and old Agnes fed the quarter-staff through into my hand.

  Face laughed.

  "I don't have you pegged as a woman-beater, John. We both know you better than that."

  "Oh, this isn't for you," I said. "I'm done with you."

  I jumped over the chalk circles and out into the fog towards where I'd last seen the hound.

  It found me first. I heard it before I saw it. First a howl that set my ears ringing, then a snuffle, as it smelled for me. Something huge and reddish brown came straight at me out of the fog, but I was waiting for it. I raised the staff above my head, threatening a strike, but didn't make the blow.

  "Finn! Down boy!" I shouted, as loud as I could manage.

  The attack faltered, and the hound faded back into the fog.

  "Nice try," I heard Face say from somewhere to my left. "But that’s not going to work twice."

  "I wasn't expecting to have to try it twice," I said, then called firmly for the dog.

  "Finn, come here, boy."

  Out in the fog, a dog barked.

  "Here, boy," I shouted.

  Face spoke up again. Two-nil to me now, for she definitely sounded rattled.

  "Come here! I command you!" she shouted.

  "Come on, Finn," I shouted back. "Come on home."

  A great russet body loomed out of the fog in front of me, and I dropped the quarter-staff. My dog came forward and licked at my face, and I needed both hands to hug it around the neck.

  The fog dissipated fast, sucking away through the library door as if a huge vacuum cleaner had just been switched on in the hallway, one strong enough to pull the doors closed with a bang when it was done.

  George had his mouth open, a cigarette dangling, forgotten on his lower lip, as he saw me standing there with the hound, as tall as I was, by my side.

  "Lie down, there's a good boy," I said.

  He was indeed a good boy. He went down, first the front legs, then the back, and laid on the floor. Even then I could still scratch his ears without having to bend. He nuzzled heat and fur against my hand.

  Face shouted, her cheeks red and eyes full of rage.

  "Come to me. I command it!" she shouted

  The hound nuzzled at my hand, and growled deep in its throat. It wasn't looking at me, its gaze was now fixed on Face.

  "Quiet, Finn," I said, and he nuzzled me, once more, then went still.

  The only sound now in the library was Black's soft singing. He didn't sound forced and theatrical, he sounded terrified, but I had no time to think of his well-being.

  I had my marks in line. It was time to reel them in.

  Chapter 25

  "This is what's going to happen. I think you know—you've always known—the dog was mine all along."

  I took all three mirrors from my pocket and laid them in a line on the floor in front of me.

  "You have a choice. Either I set my hound on you…" Finn growled menacingly right on cue, he had a better sense of the theatrical than Black, "or you get back into your box. Or rather, you have a choice of boxes—any one of the three."

  I pointed down at the mirrors.

  "There's eternity with your sister, there's back in your own tower, or there's mystery door number three, which could go anywhere or nowhere—a wild card. I leave the choice up to you."

  "And what if I don't want to play? What if I just leave you to it? You and your wee dog?"

  "I don't think you can. I think Black, for all the ridiculous pomp and ceremony here, has actually hit on the right thing to keep you right where we want you, but please, prove me wrong. Bugger off, you won't be missed."

  Three-nil to me. She'd been so used to dealing with the boy she didn't know how to cope with the man. And she also didn't leave. I think she tried something, the gold circles flared, blinding bright, but when my eyes adjusted again we were all still stood in the same place and she had a new look in her eyes. Not fear, but cunning.

  She still thought she was in charge.

  "Just keep your dog at heel," she said. "I'm not about to lose eternity to a mutt."

  Finn growled again until I patted him on the head.

  "The mirrors it is then?” I replied. "Which one do you fancy? I can open any one of them for you, you know that, you've seen me do it now."

  "Aye," she replied, reverting her accent to an earlier time. I knew she was reminding me of better days and companionship, but I wasn't the mark here, not this time. "That bastard Drake has a lot to answer for," she said, and stepped forward to lean over the mirrors.

  I saw Agnes mist over and swirl, and if
I saw it, so did Face. She was down to two options now, for we both knew an eternity with Agnes wasn't something she was going to consider.

  "This third door, portal, whatever. Where does it go?"

  "All I can tell you is that I think you'd like it," I said. "It's very now."

  She laughed at that.

  "You really have been talking to my sister. But that's of no matter. Do you think I do not know my own cell? I've been studying it for longer than your family has been in existence."

  She pointed down at the mirror in the middle and I tried not to let my smile show.

  Once a mark, always a mark.

  I stepped forward and offered her my hand

  "Come on then. Let's get you home."

  Her fingers met mine—cold fog, heavy weight and a step, and we were there, in her cell, still with the huge hole in the wall where I had come in earlier. She laughed and pointed at it. She still thought she had me.

  "See? I can get out any time I want. You have failed."

  "Maybe, maybe not. Goodbye, princess.

  I let go of her hand and took a step backward through fog and weight and bent to lift her mirror. This was the tricky bit, but I've always been a fast learner. With her in my hand I stepped back through again to the other side, and dropped the mirror on the floor at Face's feet. She looked down at the mirror, and then at me.

  "You bastard," she said.

  The stone floor around her feet softened and flowed like wet, heavy clay, then went down into the surface of the mirror, which swirled, a plug-hole discontinuity that would always be hungry for more. Face went down with it, screaming. There was a pop, like a burst balloon, and Face was back, standing over the mirror, looking straight at me. "You b…" she said, just as she was sucked down again, spiraling, away into her eternity of now.

  "Once a mark always a mark," I said, and stepped back through into the library before it took me, too.

  Chapter 26

  Finn barked excitedly and wagged his tail at my return.

  "Time for sleep, boy," I said, and stretched out a hand. I had thought of using the staff to hold the halter, but somehow I figured this would be safer. The hound seemed to agree. It fell apart quickly into a coil of snakes—hundreds, twenty, ten, then a single, simple strip of leather that came across the floor, up into my hand, slithered under my cuff, and wrapped itself snuggly, around my wrist and forearm. It felt warm, slightly ticklish, and it smelled of wet dog.

  Everything fell deathly quiet. The off-key singing had stopped. I turned toward the circles. Black and George still stood inside the pentacle, but now the book was on the floor, and Black held a small, evil looking pistol to George's head.

  "I'll take my leash now," he said, and all trace of the English schooling was gone. The L.A. kingpin was back full force.

  "I think we both know that the dog is mine. You saw that, right?"

  The quarter-staff was on the floor at my feet, but I knew I wasn't fast enough to make a move before he pulled the trigger, and he knew that I knew.

  "Nevertheless, I paid good money for the leash, and for that mirror, so you'll be leaving without either of them."

  "Which mirror would that be?" I said, pointing to them where the two of them still lay on the floor. "Would you like to make a choice like the lady did? Or can I tempt you with something better?"

  "Better?" he said. "Better than all I already have, plus the leash and the mirror? It would have to be something big."

  I laughed, despite the sick feeling I had in my gut at seeing the pistol at George's head. It was time to reel in the last mark of my career as a grifter.

  "I have your Macrocosm," I said. "And I can give it to you—everything you've wanted—the breaking of the veil, the other side—the wonders of above and below."

  I'd been right the first time I talked to him, he was indeed an easy mark. His eyes went wide with wonder and longing and I knew I had him.

  "You can take me there?"

  "Not I," I said. "My lady on the other side will see you through. You have seen me pass things to her. You yourself saw her take me through and give me back. And as you say, that mirror is yours already. I'm just offering to show you how it works."

  "In return for the halter?"

  I nodded.

  "A simple trade. I've grown rather fond of the hound."

  I bent and lifted Agnes from the floor, holding her out to him.

  He dropped the pistol to his side. I saw George think about making a move and shook my head as he looked over at me. I had this under control.

  "And it is, as you say, wondrous?" Black said as he stepped out of the circle.

  "Oh, I can safely say it is beyond anything you have ever imagined," I replied. It wasn't a lie—as I've already said, that's the secret of a good con—stick to the truth where you can, and let them believe what they want to believe. Black was more than ready; I saw it in his eyes as I held Agnes almost under his nose.

  "Are you there, darling?" I asked.

  "Come to me, my melancholy baby," she sang, and I smiled. I'd been a bit worried that my trick with Face might have ended up with the whole of Norn being sucked away—'up its own arse' as George would say. But she was here, and everything was going to be fine.

  I bent and lifted the quarter-staff.

  "Keep this again for me would you darling?"

  I fed the staff through to her, and smiled as Black's eyes went wide with wonder.

  "What do I do?" he said.

  "That's the easy bit," I said. "Give her your finger."

  I had him all the way now, so much so that he even handed me the pistol so that he could lean over the tray unencumbered. I stood close to his side, saw the fog move across the surface, and knew my instinct was right. This was going to work.

  Black put out his hand and put his finger in the fog.

  "What now?" he said, then he was gone. I felt a pop in my ears, as if the pressure had changed, felt a moment of chill and damp, then George and I were alone in the library.

  I listened, but I didn't hear Black. I hoped he was enjoying his new highland home and I hoped it was authentic enough for him, as I had a feeling he was going to be there for a very long time. But just as I was putting her away in my pocket, I heard Agnes again—at first I couldn't identify the sound properly, then I remembered her smacking her gums at the chocolate and Scotch.

  "I like a man with a bit of meat on his bones," she said. "Nearly as good as chocolate."

  Maybe Black's stay in Norn wasn't going to be such a long one after all.

  Chapter 27

  "I liked how you handled that," George said as we emerged out into the cool night air and made for the Jeep. "Especially the bit with your princess."

  "Your idea," I replied. "Wee Russian dolls, remember?"

  George laughed.

  "Aye, well done. But now, I think I need a drink."

  So did I, and I also knew what else I needed.

  "I know just the place."

  George popped the brake and drove off. I reached out, thinking of a harp, soup and ale, song and laughter. I saw fog, felt cold air and a weight that was lifted quickly. The halter tightened at my wrist, then loosened again. George drove the Jeep off Black's driveway and through into the courtyard of the high keep in Nornland. My arm felt like a happy dog had just licked it.

  The third tower along the ridge seemed to be winking in and out of reality in a manner that hurt the eye to watch, so I turned my gaze to the courtyard, and more pleasant company.

  The folks in the bar seemed very happy to see us. The harp rang in my arms, there was much singing and merriment, and I finally got to buy George that drink I owed him.

  The story of the Veil Knights continues in

  Cloak of Fury

  Available Dec. 13, 2016

  The Veil Knights Series

  The Circle Gathers (Book 1)

  Hound of Night (Book 2)

  Cloak of Fury (Book 3 - Coming Dec 13th)

  About the Author />
  Rowan Casey is the pseudonym for twelve New York Times, USA Today and Amazon bestselling writers who have come together to create the Veil Knights shared-world experience.

  With more than ten million copies of their books in print around the world, they include Lilith Saintcrow, CJ Lyons, Joseph Nassise, Steven Savile, Annie Bellet, Jon F. Merz, Pippa DaCosta, Robert Greenberger, William Meikle, Steve Lockley, Hank Schwaeble, and Nathan Meyer.

  For more information, visit

  authorrowancasey

  www.rowancasey.com

  rowan@rowancasey.com

  Copyright Information

  Hound of Night

  Copyright 2016 by Rowan Casey

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.