Ricky stopped at the end of the clinic block and let the bike idle, as if he was surveying the playing field. Which he was, but this was also an unspoken opportunity for me to pick up any omens that shouted, "Thou shalt not proceed."
I took off my helmet and looked around. It was a crisp October night. The full moon hung low in a star-filled sky.
Perfect night for a hunt.
I smiled as the thought came unbidden. Sadly, that wasn't why we were out here. I was about to put my helmet on when I caught a flicker of movement to my left. I turned sharply. Ricky followed my gaze, squinting with his visor raised, but all I saw was shadowed darkness.
I tilted my head to listen. The idle of the Harley made that impossible. Ricky turned off the engine without any sign from me.
We both looked into the silent night. Then his chin shot up, and he turned. I followed his gaze but saw nothing.
"I thought I heard..." He frowned and then said, "A horse whinny. I thought I heard a horse whinny."
Perfect night for a hunt.
But the Cwn Annwn couldn't ride here. There wasn't a forest for miles. Ricky stayed tense, his sharp gaze cutting through the night, and when I leaned in to kiss the back of his neck, my lips brushed goose bumps.
"What's wrong?" I whispered.
He said nothing. Just kept looking. Then I heard him inhale, and I caught the faintest whiff of horse.
With his gaze still on our surroundings, he reached back, took my hand, and moved it to my pocket. I pulled out the boar's tusk. He felt it in my hand and nodded.
"But if it's the Huntsmen..." I whispered. The tusk was from the Cwn Annwn, to protect us against everything else.
"It's...wrong," he said, still searching the street and the surrounding buildings.
"Not Cwn Annwn?"
"I...I don't know. It's just wrong." He rolled his shoulders. "Sorry. I'm--"
"No, stay with that." I tugged his own tusk from his pocket and pressed it into his hand. "Follow your gut. Always."
He nodded, started the bike, and rolled it slowly down the street. I kept my helmet off and continued searching the shadows. He stopped a few doors from the drop-in center, turned into a gap between the buildings, and killed the engine.
I hopped from the bike while he kept it steady. Helmet off, he scanned the street. Then he nodded, as if satisfied that whatever he'd sensed was gone. There was no one in sight. No one even peeked out from behind a window blind at the very distinct sound of a Harley rolling along their street.
We were about to cross the road when I noticed that flicker again, dark movement in the shadows. This time, I spotted a large shape hunkered down behind a parked car. I tapped Ricky's elbow, but he was already turning that way.
As I reached for my gun, his hand closed on mine, and he shook his head. He took a slow step toward the shadow. It moved, and the mo
onlight glinted off dark red eyes.
"A hound?" I whispered.
That couldn't be right. Hounds didn't cower. As Ricky walked toward the car, the dark shape shrunk back, and I thought for sure he was mistaken.
I tucked the tusk into my pocket and palmed my switchblade instead. Ricky didn't seem to hear me even as I jogged up, gravel crunching. But then he lifted his fingers, holding me back as he continued until we were close enough to see black fur.
The beast lay flattened against the pavement, as if thinking itself safely hidden there. I lifted my switchblade and flicked on the penlight.
It was definitely a hound. And yet not like any hound I'd seen. Its fur was matted. One eye was glazed white. One ear a stump. A leg crooked, as if broken and not allowed to heal properly. The worst, though, was the look in its eyes: absolute terror.
"No," Ricky whispered. "How...? Who...?" He dropped to one knee on the sidewalk and lowered his hand to the ground. "Come here."
The hound backed up.
"It's all right," he said.