Hound

by Caleb James

  She watched as he bowed and left. She studied his every gesture and how he glanced and smiled at the doctor. They hide something from me. She felt pain and looked down at her chest expecting to find a wound, but the hurt was all inside. He made a promise. Her throat tightened, and she choked back a sob, because the truth hurt as bad now as it had two thousand years ago. He broke his promise, and he broke my heart. No, it’s worse than that. What is still hidden? What did my sisters do to me?

  Redmond, aware that he no longer possessed the protective houndstone, kept a wary eye on May as Finn—or whoever or whatever he was—left the cell. His pulse raced. Is this how and where I die? And how has a single kiss rattled me so? He sorted through the race of emotions. I should be more afraid. He felt the tingle of Finn’s lips and the strength of his—the Hound’s—hand.

  May voiced his present danger. “You’ve lost your little charm. Though it was never yours.” She spat at him, and the air blossomed with the smell of fairy fire.

  Redmond steeled his nerves. I will appear calm. She must not see or smell the clamor of my thoughts. “True.” He recognized the opening gambit of tit for tat. “He said it was his.”

  “Once. He gave it to me… and then he stole it. I wonder how Lizbeta came by it. Tell me.”

  Redmond waited. This much of the story he knew, the tale of the three sisters, children of the prior reign, daughters of gods.

  May paced, stopped, and stared at Redmond. “Of course. Hound! Dogs sniff after one and then another of the sisters. I should pity her. But then… you come by the stone. I would know her game. My misty sister. She hides from me, as does the other. Tell me of that one, of lovely Katye. I would know.” May’s voice turned singsong. She pranced and grimaced as her costume, tied to her moods, was torn… literally. Half became a twirly tulle-flounced bubblegum-pink party dress, and the other trailed the floor in midnight-black lace.

  Redmond felt her power pulse. The moment she can control it… I will be no more.

  She threw a glamour at him. Houndstone or no, her cell and the entire Center were well warded. But in the short time he’d spent with May, he knew her ego would lead her to believe she was above that. “I cannot speak to your sister Katye. As a child, I’d glimpse the three of you from the distance. I’ve never met her.”

  May ditched the glamour and spat again. Fire illuminated the space as it arced in the air and landed with a sizzle inches from his feet.

  Redmond’s heart skipped as a tiny blue-and-orange flame burned into the rich carpet and created a glowing crater in the stone floor. His knees weakened with the smell. Help me, Goddess.

  May stared from the flame to Redmond. “Yes, it is delicious. Or so I’m told. I’m immune to the stuff. I see that you, dear doctor, are not. There’s no harm in a little taste.” She hummed and then belted in a throaty alto, “Fairy fire, fairy fire, come and see my fairy fire. Fairy dust, fairy dust, come and taste….” Her tune stopped. “But you know all this. Please, don’t mind me. Get down on your hands and knees and roll yourself a bunny. It’s what you want. It’s what you crave… it’s what you need.”

  Redmond shielded his thoughts, though this was less mind reading or control on her part than a serious lapse in judgment on his. This is how I die.

  “Seriously, Doctor, I don’t mind if you roll a bunny or two. I find that so cute. Dust bunnies.” She hummed the familiar spell. “With a mickle and a care I shall go into a hare.”

  For a heartbeat he wondered if she wasn’t about to shift into a rabbit, or more likely, back into the ravenous salamander. But no, she’d made a joke… and he’d made a connection.

  “Yes,” she offered. “It has many meanings. As do the words of the Hound. So he’s here. It’s no coincidence, and he comes at the bidding of my sister… most likely the two of them together. In fact, that you got the stone from Lizbeta”—May’s eyes glowed—“she did not get it from him, but from Katye.” Her hands flew to the sides of her head. “Yes, now we have a song that sings. But….” She paused and glared at him. “The truth still hides from me. Yes, the stone is back where it began, though he is not the Hound I knew.” She sank into a chair and appeared confused. “He gave me the… I cannot remember. And I gave him something in return, something important. I was so young when we met. I had not tasted love, never known what Katye took for granted, its power. Its magic. It’s her hand behind all of this. She’s always been jealous, of me, of my special, of the greater work before me, to take the three realms and put them back as one. I will make Fey great again. She is the cause of my misfortune. I will make her pay. I will make them both pay.”

  Nineteen

  FINN WATCHED the gears on May’s cell door. What moves them? The air shimmered as the intricate mechanism whirred and clicked. Don’t freak. Which, now standing outside the unstable queen’s cell with her otherworldly guards, was difficult. Exactly what was one supposed to say to eight-foot green… I’m thinking ogres, but what if that’s not PC? Erring on the side of less is more, he gave a polite nod to each, his focus on the queen… and more so, on Redmond. I just kissed a guy who flies. Yeah, not the strangest thing here…. The feel of his lips, the taste of him, the strength of his body had been seared into his brain. Just a kiss and then….

  He took stock. Still me, but this body. He imagined how he appeared to others with his shins poking from the hem of ruined cargo pants that a few hours earlier had covered his now-too-small New Balance walking shoes. He toed off one, then the other. Much better. He stared at his feet. What the hell? Fur, it’s almost like…. Jesus, where else?

  Panic surged. He tried to keep his expression calm. He glanced at one of the guards. At least I’m not green. His shirt was split at the seams, and a quick hand to the chest let him know that the thick hair wasn’t just on his toes. It felt soft, and for an instant he wondered what it would be like for a lover. Some guys like them hairy. Done is done. Okay, I’m a bear now. Then as his hand traveled from chest to abdomen, he made another discovery. While always fit, first from football, then from the rigors of the FDNY, and more recently from long runs and the gym, I’m cut. His fingers, larger than he remembered them, splayed across hard muscle ridges on his abdomen, something no amount of push-ups or crunches had ever given him. Over the years he’d realized that great abs were created in the kitchen and not the gym, and unfortunately, while he’d run several marathons, he had zero interest in a life of protein shakes. He counted the valleys of his new eight-pack. So I’ve got a hot hairy bod, and if he’d been alone, he’d have explored further. Is everything bigger?

  He turned at the sound of Redmond’s voice from inside May’s cell. He noted the thick door and the walls built of boulder and mortar. I shouldn’t be able to hear them… but I do.

  What’s happening in there? It’s not safe for him. He began to pace circles, his head down, his nose catching whiffs, just like the night of a thousand fires. Fairy dust. But other scents, ones he knew, though not in a conscious way. Only now… fear, that’s the smell of fear… and of Redmond.

  Like a connoisseur swirling wine, he caught hints of musk with a rancid overtone. Fear.

  He stopped and sank cross-legged to the floor, his nose and ear to the door. He sniffed and let the conversation from inside waft through his enhanced hearing. Redmond was in trouble. I should not have left him alone. His pulse jumped, and he found that if he opened his mouth, his olfactory acuity grew more intense. His tongue poked between his lips, and he tasted the air.

  What was difficult was the content of their conversation.

  He heard the words and sensed the context, Redmond’s voice like a balm that soothed everything. And when May spoke, it was as though she were an open wound. If he’d not known the murderous thing that she was, he could have felt pity.

  But how can he? How can he be her doctor? From their brief interaction, he knew this entire world lived in terror of their queen. Between the lines, he’d gathered that Redmond had suffered at her hands and had not willingly allowed h
er into his center. What is he saying? Frustration at not being able to pull apart the meanings of the words and sentences welled. Chill, Finn. Maybe you don’t need that. His nose, as though it had its own mind, sniffed across the door’s unyielding surface. The air tingled around his face, and as he inhaled, the lock trembled.

  I could break through. He smiled and listened to the soothing tenor of Redmond’s voice. So not only can Redmond fly, he’s got some kind of soothing magic. He is so cool. He pictured Charlie’s Liam and how he literally stopped traffic, and people always gave him stuff. This is different. I could listen to this voice forever. Just curl up at his feet…. What the fuck? He hung on Redmond’s shifting tones. His fear was unmistakable, but he held his ground against May. I got your back, Redmond. Finn looked at the guards, who stared back with red-rimmed eyes.

  They’re afraid. With his mouth open and tongue hanging out, he drew in deep. They’re afraid of her… but of me too. Why the hell would two eight-foot whatever-the-hells be afraid of me? So much to ponder, as he compared the scent of ogre fear to that of Redmond, to his own curious musk and heat. I smell good. Images came with the scents. I smell like a baby. He pictured Danny Dog, Rory’s Irish setter he’d gotten when they were both six. Not like a baby… like a puppy. And everyone’s been talking about this hound, and you’re hairy, and one plus one equals….

  The conversation inside the cell shifted. There was fury and power in May’s voice. Finn tensed, ready to break through that door or go down trying. The smell of fairy fire was stronger. But then Redmond did that warm thing with his voice, and it seemed to calm things.

  I will not stray. I will stay. The sickly sweet stench burned his nose. He shook his head as fresh images were sparked by the smell. Obviously magic… but more. Calm down and let it come. He glanced up at the ogres, who were as far from him in the darkened antechamber as they could get. Embedded in the fairy fire’s reek, he caught a whiff of something primal. His stomach turned as he made the connection. There’s blood and bone in fairy fire. He had seen her in action when she’d attempted to eat Liam. It’s not just killing. She’s feeding. He pressed an ear to the door, turned, and licked it.

  Bile rose in his throat. Redmond, what have you done? From the experience of watching Alex’s sister, Alice, he knew too that fairy dust was a highly addictive narcotic. Please no. He licked the door a second time. Shit! There were traces of the stuff coming from Redmond. It was more than he could take. I finally meet a guy and he’s an addict… and probably not human.

  He threw back his head, and without thought, voiced the emotions that surged within. It shook the walls. I can sing. And he did. I sound good.

  His voice woke patients in their cells. Some joined in; others howled. As his booming tune led the strange choir, he stood. While still attending to Redmond and Queen May, he took a fresh inventory. I’m wicked strong. I can hear and smell everything. Having trouble understanding words… don’t care much about that.

  As his song swelled, those who’d been singing switched to noises more animal than human. His own tune held no words, and as he stared down at the torch-lit floor, he was not surprised… well, maybe a bit. Where he’d had feet, albeit fuzzy ones, he now had massive paws, four of them. Oh well.

  With his long pink tongue lolling from his mouth, he stopped his tune and loped three easy circles in the hall and settled outside May’s cell. His attention was riveted on Redmond.

  Healer, heal thyself. With his body coiled taut as a spring, Finn guarded the door and prepared for battle.

  Twenty

  MARILYN NEVUS shook, though she tried to hide it from Adam, as the towering black puka in the form of an enormous stallion emerged from the depths of the Western Sea. She glanced toward the direction they’d come and scanned past the beach, the dunes, and the meadow. I do not see her. We may have time. She focused on the one bright spot in a day filled with terror, a chance to see her other children.

  She pictured dark-haired Alex, her eldest—He’s in college, in NYC, another world. He wants to be a doctor. And Alice with her curtain of blonde hair and crystal blue eyes that spoke of too much pain for someone so young. She’s a teenager now. She bit back the rage that came when she thought of them and of how much had been stolen. She calculated what grade Alice would be in. Eighth? Ninth? A mother should know this. I should know this.

  With her eyes on the puka, a creature both ancient and deadly, she reassured herself that Adam, a haffling like his siblings, could travel unharmed. And that’s why May pursues them. As for her, now protected by Cedric’s true love, no further damage could happen. Too little too late.

  She found Cedric’s hand as her other held Adam’s, whose gaze was riveted on the fierce stallion that stood on the stilled water. Its hide glistened with green-black algae.

  She took comfort in Cedric’s touch. All her sorrows had begun with his beautiful face in a mirror. For him she had sacrificed everything. She glanced back. “I don’t hear her anymore.”

  Cedric nodded and sniffed. “There’s no fairy fire.” He followed her gaze from the deadly certainty of May’s hunger back to the fire-eyed puka, who was known for dragging many a traveler to a watery grave. But in this he agreed with Marilyn; it was the surest way to travel between realms. Even now, as he stared at the beast who toed a hoof into the sea, he felt the beast’s power. Even the Mist that marked the end of one realm and the start of another wavered with the puka’s every movement.

  Marilyn spoke. “This means something. She would not just give up the chase.”

  “Agreed.”

  “This is madness.” She stared at the puka as her thoughts raced through any other possible means of escape.

  “Tell me,” Cedric urged.

  “If she’s not chasing us and she can’t cross without breaking further… then something more important has diverted her attention.”

  “Perhaps she’s been captured,” Cedric offered. Marilyn cocked a brow.

  “Just saying. Perhaps you need not take this insane journey.”

  “Stop!” She loved Cedric, but he had a bit of the craven that crept out in tense times. “Use your gifts, husband. If she’s not chasing us, you must discover why. Because if it’s more important than our child, that can carry her from world to world, it’s also more dangerous.”

  Cedric nodded and opened his senses to the wind. It was unnecessary, for even with her human ears, Marilyn heard it.

  “Dogs,” she commented. “Why are dogs howling?”

  “Please don’t do that,” he said, referring to her dangerous use of questions.

  “Cedric, grow a pair.” She focused on the swelling chorus of baying dogs and then on Cedric’s concerned look. “Tell me.”

  “It can’t be.”

  “Spit it out!”

  “Her boyfriend is back.”

  The puka’s hoof again tapped the water’s surface. It grew impatient.

  Marilyn nodded. “There is work for us both. You must learn her purpose, Cedric.” She pulled her husband into a kiss, and before he could protest, she gathered Adam. He is so young. What will this do to him? He will see my madness on the other side. She paused. And you have no choice.

  Not knowing what to expect, she held Adam’s hand and walked with him into the water.

  The puka, for whom every journey was purportedly different, hardened the sea’s surface. Fear clutched at her throat as she approached. The puka grunted once and then knelt.

  Barely able to breathe, she lifted Adam onto the beast’s strong back. It was slick to the touch, and black-string algae clung to her fingers like spiderwebs.

  Fearful the beast might take off without her, she hoisted herself behind Adam. She gripped him tight around the middle, while her free hand sought for any purchase on the puka’s slick hide. There was none. She braced with her thighs. “Breathe in and out deep,” she instructed. “And when I tell you, hold it.” And she prepared for a journey that few survived.

  Twenty-One

  RED
MOND’S THOUGHTS raced between May’s rage and the reek of fairy dust from where she’d spat. “Tell me,” he urged, and his voice warbled with the soothing grace of his special healer’s magic. While he felt jangled, its effects on her were obvious.

  May stared at the door where Finn… the Hound… had just left.

  He watched the planes of her face shift from rage and the gaping sore of betrayal to… calm.

  “Yes,” he said. “Find this moment and only this moment. You may lie back on the couch, should you wish. It is soft. You are safe here.” Though I am not.

  “I am never safe,” she replied but did as he suggested and sank back onto the pillow-strewn recamier.

  “Tell me of that.”

  Her expression softened. “It hurts.”

  “I know. And to hold it in only makes it fester.” Despite the danger, he chuckled at a memory.

  “You laugh at my sorrows.”

  “Never, Your Majesty. Just a memory from my training.”

  She turned and looked at him, her eyes back to the beautiful amber. “Then tell me. I could use a touch of humor.”

  “You might not find it amusing. But as part of a doctor’s training, we must taste all of the specialties, including surgery, which I enjoyed greatly. But for those who heal through steel, there is a truism, and I believe it applies to your pain. Pus under pressure must be lanced.”