went cold. Real or imagined, he was perfectly describing a black dog. A type of hellhound. A portent of death. A fae creature.
“There it is again!” Peregrine screeched. He waved toward where a city bus was pulled up across the street. Then he took off like a sprinter from a starting gate, flying past the man still standing beside the parking meter. He darted between parked cars and into traffic.
“Stop!” Chandler shrieked. She raced after him, dodging around the man at the meter and squeezing between two pickup trucks parked far too close together.
Ahead of her, a car squealed to a stop, inches from Peregrine. He dodged around it and reached the other side of the street, vanishing from view behind the city bus.
The traffic started moving again, blocking Chandler’s way.
“Watch where you’re going!” a driver shouted at her.
Lionel was beside her, holding up his hand to stop traffic. Cars squealed to a stop, but the city bus took advantage of the break in traffic and pulled away from the curb, blocking her way and leaving her trapped in the middle of the street.
One long second passed, then another as the bus chugged by. People stared at her through the bus’s smudged windows. Finally, the rear of the bus slid past. She dashed behind it and reached the far side of the street.
She looked up the sidewalk, along the line of buildings. Peregrine wasn’t there.
“Do you see him?” she shouted to Lionel.
Lionel scanned the opposite direction. “He can’t have gotten far.”
Bang! Crash! The clatter of metal hitting pavement echoed from a wide alley that served as a bistro’s outdoor seating area. Someone yelled, “Fucking kid!”
Chandler took off toward the bistro. Lionel was beside her. Gar and Devlin were a second behind, their footsteps pounding. As she rounded the corner, she spotted Peregrine zinging through the outdoor seating area. Ahead of him an empty table crashed over, chairs flew into the air though nothing appeared to have bumped into them. A customer swore. A waiter shouted.
Lionel followed Peregrine’s path. Gar and Devlin trailed him. But Chandler veered to one side, picking up speed as she raced down a walkway that edged the seating area. At the end of the walkway, she swerved right. If she was lucky, she could cut off whatever Peregrine was chasing before he caught up with it.
The rope that formed the back boundary of the seating area swayed as if something big had jumped over it. Peregrine leapt the same rope. Chandler pushed her legs harder as Peregrine winged by a parked delivery truck and careened around a corner, passing dumpsters.
Adrenaline screamed in Chandler’s legs. Protective magic throbbed in her tattoos. She was gaining on them. Almost there.
Peregrine froze midstride. She couldn’t see the creature, but its wild energy wailed in the air a half dozen yards ahead of Peregrine, stalking toward him. A low and very audible growl reverberated.
“Back off, hellhound.” Gar’s voice echoed close by. He had a way with animals and his dart gun. But she wasn’t about to leave Peregrine’s safety to anyone else, especially someone who could no more see the creature than she could.
In one swift motion, Chandler drew her wand and flung herself forward, between the creature and Peregrine. If it wanted to get to him, it was going to have to go through her first. This hellhound was going to learn he’d messed with the wrong boy.
“Holy shit,” Devlin screeched.
Two yards ahead of Chandler, the crouched dog materialized. It was enormous. As black as oil with ruby embers for eyes and teeth like switchblades. Its spiny hackles were raised. It crouched even lower, readying to spring.
“Get down!” Lionel raced toward her. She felt the sudden weight of his body as he flung himself over top of her and Peregrine, pushing them to the pavement and covering them.
“Mama, I’m scared,” Peregrine whimpered close to her ear.
Chandler glanced up in time to glimpse the hellish dog sailing over all three of them with the effortless power of a gigantic tiger bounding a fence.
Chapter 7
Species: Black dog. Known by a variety of nicknames. A type of solitary hellhound.
Characteristics: Wolflike. Shaggy black hair. Glowing red eyes. Vanishes at will.
Location: Crossroads, execution sites, and ancient byways. May appear elsewhere or be attached to a person or be associated with an object such as treasure.
Threat Level: Feral by nature. May be affiliated with any fae or fae court.
—From Book of Good Folk
by B. Remillard
The black dog landed, then charged off in the direction it had come from, disappearing into thin air before he made it past the delivery truck.
Chandler grabbed hold of Lionel’s extended hand and let him pull her to her feet. Her back was soaked with sweat. Her legs were as shaky as a boneless giraffe.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, then rested her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes on Peregrine. “You do realize you’re in big trouble, young man?”
“But, Mom, the dog… Lionel wasn’t imagining it. It just wasn’t a loup-garou.”
“Don’t ‘but Mom’ me. We’re going to have a long talk about this later. Disobeying. Running across a street. Not to mention chasing a dangerous creature.”
Chandler’s head spun from the enormity of what had just happened. Not just that Lionel had seen through the black dog’s glamour, but that Peregrine had as well. A black dog. A fae creature. Sure, the Northern Circle had at one time worked closely with the fae. But not anymore. Not for eons. Even Brooklyn’s benign fae helpers were far from trustworthy.
She pressed her hand against her upper chest, drawing strength from her dragon. She’d prayed this day would never come. She’d begged the Gods and Goddesses to give him any gift but this one. Still, she’d known deep in her heart there was no escaping it. And there was no denying it now. Her son. Her beautiful, carefree boy had inherited faery sight from his father. And she wasn’t the only one who knew. Devlin and Gar had witnessed it as well.
Devlin cleared his throat. “We should get out of here.”
He motioned for everyone to follow, then he hurried deeper into the alley. As they started through a narrow passage between two buildings, Chandler hung back. She wasn’t worried that Peregrine would run off again. But there was a strong possibility that the city police might come running up behind them. After all, they had caused quite a disturbance at the bistro. If they needed to talk their way out of this one, she wanted it to be her.
Gar slowed his pace, falling in step with her. He caught hold of her shoulder, slowing her further until they were out of everyone else’s earshot.
“Is this the first time Peregrine’s seen through glamour?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Yesterday he mentioned something. But I didn’t think it was real.”
“You’re not gifted with faery sight, are you.”
It was a statement, not a question. Still, she shook her head in denial while scenes from that Beltane night flashed in her mind: The moonlight gleaming on the May King’s face. His scar glistening against his beautiful tan skin, a mark left from when the fae had attacked him because he could see through their glamour. The same ability that had led to his grandfather’s torture and death at the hands of the fae.
She looked at Gar. He pressed his lips together, sealing his thoughts away. But the firm set of his jaw told her that he’d guessed the name of Peregrine’s father. That didn’t shock her. Gar had researched every Northern Circle member before he’d come to the complex