Hellhound (A Deadtown Novel) (21 page)

The falcon soared upward, screaming its triumph.

“Excellent,” Mab said. She watched me rub my upper arm, which quivered from the exertion. “How do you feel, child?”

“Okay. But tomorrow I’m going to feel like I was in a one-handed weight lifting competition.”

“We can trade tasks if you like.”

“Maybe later. Let’s keep going.” The falcon alighted on a nearby headstone. “Dad, how about you? You okay?”

“Fine. I sort of move aside and let this body take over. The falcon feels
great
. He’s doing what he was meant to do. I think we can handle a bigger batch, if you want to try that.”

“Not too much bigger, I think,” said Mab. “It requires effort to hold them in orbit. Pacing ourselves will allow us to accomplish more over the course of the night.”

“You’re the boss,” Dad said. “Ready when you are.” With a jump, he flapped his wings and took off into the sky.

I did another scan of the cemetery, paying attention to my demon mark as I looked around. If Pryce and Difethwr were nearby, I’d feel it. The mark remained quiet—or what passed for quiet these days. I nodded to Mab that I was ready for another round and began moving Hellforged in big circles over my head. She went to the next headstone.

We worked for hours, stepping it up to larger batches of twenty-five or thirty materialized crows. When my aching arm shook too much to raise over my head, Mab took Hellforged and taught me the releasing incantation. My first attempt freed too much Morfran, and the falcon took off after three crows that escaped and shot like arrows toward Deadtown. But Dad was faster. He got all three before they’d made it past the old Suffolk University campus.

Sometime around three in the morning, we took a break. Mab and I flopped down on the grass, and Dad perched on a headstone, preening his feathers. No one said much; we were all spent. I opened my senses to the demon plane, listening. Hard to tell, but by the reduced cawing I estimated that we’d gotten rid of a quarter of the Morfran trapped here.

Nice going.

“A few more nights of this, and it’ll be gone,” I said to Mab.

“Yes, child, but I doubt we’ll have the luxury. Whatever is keeping Pryce occupied tonight, he will discover what we’ve done. We must destroy as much of the Morfran as we can before he tries to stop us.”

“How do you think—”

To our left, the falcon’s scream cut off my question. I leapt up, holding Hellforged in a fighting stance. A harsh cackle cut through the falcon’s cries.

A skeleton with glowing eyes stood between two headstones, holding up a net in one bony hand. Inside the net, the white falcon struggled and shrieked.

“MINE!” THE NIGHT HAG SCREECHED. “AT LAST THE WHITE falcon of Hellsmoor is mine!”

“No!” I ran at her, Hellforged raised, forgetting its blunted blade. I’d lop off her damn hand to make her let go.

The hag whistled, and I nearly ran straight into the snapping jaws of the hellhound that jumped into my path. I stopped, spun. The hounds surrounded me.

When I looked at the hag again, she was a young woman with long, silky hair. Her eyes sparkled with laughter, but her lips twisted in a grimace.

“Mine.” She gloated. “And your lover remains bound by his promise to me. All in all, I’d call this a good night’s hunt.”

She snapped her fingers, and the galloping of iron hooves sounded. Her fire-breathing steed appeared at her side. She grasped the saddle to swing herself up. Her hounds growled and snapped at me, keeping me back.

“Wait,” said Mab.

The hag’s head snapped toward Mab. Her face, now middle-aged and plump, frowned. She made a complicated whistle and pointed. Half her pack broke away to crouch in front of Mab, growling. Acid drool dripped from their huge fangs, sizzling as it hit the ground.

Mab lifted her hands to show she wasn’t armed. “Mallt-
y-Nos, you do not know what you’re doing.”

The Night Hag swung into her saddle. She looped the net around the pommel to make a bag. The falcon tore at the net with his beak and talons, but the fibers stayed intact. “Be still!” she commanded. A blue spark leapt from her finger and jolted the bird. He squawked and stopped moving.

“Stop!” I yelled. “You’re hurting him!”

“Merely a little training. This bird will learn to do my bidding. A month or so tied to its perch and hooded, with barely enough food to keep it alive, should break its will. It’ll be pleased enough to hunt for me then. If not, there’s always this.” She zapped another spark into the bird.

Dad.

“Mallt-y-Nos,” Mab repeated. A hound lunged at her, but she ignored it, standing straight and staring fearlessly at the hag’s crone face. “This is the white falcon of the prophecies. He can kill the Morfran. You have no right to take him.”

“Haven’t I?” The crone cackled like an evil witch escaped from a fairy tale. “I have possession. That’s all the right I need. I’ve no interest in hunting Morfran. This falcon will chase whatever game
I
wish.” Her lined, pallid face turned to me with an expression more snarl than laugh. “Perhaps I’ll grant you a reprieve, until I’ve got this bird properly trained. Then I’ll set both him
and
my hounds upon you, a full moon or two from now.” Her skin turned greenish and shrank on her skull. “What a pleasure it will be to see his talons shred those smooth, pretty cheeks.”

Before I could answer, Mab spoke. “Pryce needs the Morfran to conduct his war. Give us the time we need to destroy it.”

“Why should I? What can you offer that will make it worth my while?”

“The gauntlet. With it, you won’t need to break the falcon’s will.”

The Night Hag bit her lip, seeming to consider. “Perhaps I would take pleasure in the breaking.”

“Perhaps. Yet a strong, proud falcon brings more honor to its keeper than a spiritless one.” When the hag didn’t reply, Mab pressed on. “Pryce’s plans are ambitious, you know. He intends to conquer not just the Ordinary, but the Darklands as well.”

Mallt-y-Nos snorted, unimpressed. “If Lord Arawn cannot protect his realm, it’s no concern of mine.” Only few shreds of skin clung to her skull. Still, her smile was obvious. “I like war. Plenty of souls to chase. No, I possess the falcon now. The time for bargains is past.”

“You cut our bargain short,” I said. “The full moon is still two days away. I was going to summon you tomorrow to offer you both the falcon and the gauntlet in exchange for Kane’s release.”

“You lie. If you’d made that decision, why delay?”

“Because of the work we’re doing here. Once that’s finished, I have no use for the falcon. Why wouldn’t I give him to you?”
Sorry, Dad. You know I don’t mean it.
Still, I tried to sound sincere, hoping the Night Hag would believe me.

The hag’s face, young again, jerked to the right. In one motion, her hounds stood tall, looking on the same direction. They trembled and whimpered, as though straining against invisible leashes.

“A soul!” she shouted. “The hunt is on!” She wheeled her horse to the right. Holding it in check, she glared over her shoulder at me.

“The hawk is mine, shapeshifter. As is the hound. You cheated me before, but I’ve won.”

“You must listen—” Mab said.

“I’ll tarry no longer. To the hunt!” She blew a long, curved horn. The hounds took off running. Mab leapt forward, reaching for the net bag that hung from the hag’s saddle. Out of nowhere, a hound sprang at her. Mab cried out and clutched her arm, and the hag rode on.

Taking the falcon with her.

Dad.

We had to get him back.

MAB WAS ON HER KNEES, BENT OVER AND HOLDING HER injured arm against her chest. I ran to her. “Are you all right? Let me see the wound.”

Her breathing was fast and shallow. “In a moment . . .” she whispered.

I laid my hand lightly on her shoulder, willing her some of my strength.

After a dozen heartbeats, Mab knelt up and extended her arm. Tooth marks ripped her skin in a ragged line, the edges black and curling. “It burns,” she gasped.

“I’ll call an ambulance.”

“No.” She pulled in her arm, pressing it to her chest and moving it slowly up and down. Light caught the silver chain at her neck, and I realized she was rubbing the injury against her bloodstone pendant.

The bloodstone that kept her youthful and strong.

I waited. Again Mab examined her arm. The torn skin was healing, and its color was better. After another minute’s contact with the bloodstone, only faint white scars marked the places where the hellhound’s fangs had sunk in.

“That will do,” she said. “Now, we must figure out how to get Evan back. We’ve not a moment to lose.”

“Can you call him with the gauntlet?”

“That might kill him. The Night Hag has put some kind of spell on that net to contain the falcon. I was watching. He should have been able to tear a hole in the bag easily, but he couldn’t. If the falcon were called by the gauntlet now, he would batter himself to death trying to escape.”

My heart plummeted. “What can we do?”

“Well, for a start you could open this damn bag and let me out.” My father’s voice emerged from the darkness.

“Dad?” I looked around. “Where are you?”

“Right here.” I squinted toward the direction of his voice and saw something I’d never in a million years expected to see. Tina leaned against an obelisk, a net bag containing a falcon swinging from her hand.

“Ta-da!” She waved her other hand in a flourish.

She set the bag on the ground, opening it so the net lay flat. The falcon strutted to its edge, hesitated, then stepped onto the grass. He stretched his wings, folded them, and shook himself. Then he jumped into the air, flapping. After circling over our heads a few times, he landed on a tree branch.

“Feels safer up here,” he commented. “Almost got me, didn’t she?”

“How did
you
get him?” I asked Tina.

“I knew you guys were over here killing those bird thingies. I mean, um, the Morfran. I wanted to watch. You know, not get in the way or anything. Just be, like, an observatory.”

“Observer,” I corrected automatically.

“Whatever. Anyway, I snuck out of Deadtown, and when I got here, you were talking to that scary bitch on the big horse. It looked like a bad situation, so I stayed in the shadows. I couldn’t hear much, but I saw the bird struggling in the bag. I knew it wasn’t one of those Morfran thingies, because it was white. I felt sorry for it. When she zapped it I got mad.” Tina put her hands on her hips. “I am
not
okay with cruelty to animals.”

“I’m with you on that one, kid,” said Dad’s voice from the tree.

“I didn’t even know he was, like, your dad. Not till he told me and I almost dropped the bag.” She spent a moment scrutinizing my face. “I don’t see a family resemblance.” A one-shoulder shrug. “Anyway, like I said, I got mad.
Especially
thinking she was probably every bit as mean to her horse and all those dogs.”

Trust Tina to look at a fanged, Volkswagen-sized, acid-drooling hellhound and see a nice doggy. “How did you get the falcon from the Night Hag?”

“Well, she blew that horn thing, and all of a sudden her dogs were running my way. A second later she galloped past on her horse. When I saw the bag, I reached out and grabbed it. I held tight, she kept riding, and it snapped. Just like that. All I knew was I didn’t want her to hurt that beautiful bird again.”

“Well done,” said Mab. Tina beamed at the approval in her voice. “We owe you a debt of thanks, young lady.”

“Really? So I can stay and watch you kill the Morfran? Or are you all finished?”

“Not finished,” I said. “Not by a long shot. But I think we’re done for tonight. Mab’s injured. Dad’s traumatized. And the Night Hag may come back.”

“I think not, child. Once Mallt-y-Nos undertakes a hunt, she cannot leave it until she chases the soul into the next world. It’s near enough dawn now that she cannot complete her hunt and return here before sunrise. As for your other concern, my injury is quite healed.”

“And your old man is holding up fine,” Dad added.

“So we may as well do what work we can before daylight,” Mab finished.

I didn’t like it. We were pushing our luck to keep going now. Mab and Dad might insist they were okay, but I was ready to drop. When you’re tired, you make mistakes. We couldn’t afford another one of those.

Still, Dad and Mab insisted we continue, and I gave in. We did need to kill as much of the Morfran as we could while we had the chance.

Tina moved back into the shadows as we went to work. I was impressed with how quiet she stayed. Even though Mab and I had both warned her to let us concentrate as we worked, I’d expected at least a
Cool!
or an
Awesome!
to come our way. But Tina didn’t say a word.

Finally, when Mab performed the ritual to release more Morfran from a headstone, nothing happened. She straightened, rubbing her back with both hands as though it ached. I didn’t doubt it did—personally, I ached in places where I never knew I had muscles.

“The sun is up,” Mab said. “That’s all we can do for now.”

Dad said good-bye and flew toward Needham. I hoped he’d grab a few hours’ sleep, although if I had to bet, I’d put my money on his being at Mom’s bedside when she woke up and spending every minute of the day with her.

I smiled at the thought. If you want to know what love really is, take a look at my parents. Nothing—not death, not metamorphosis—could keep them apart.

I could only hope that whatever Kane and I had was half as strong. We were going to need all the strength we could get.

“Are you ready to go home, child?” Mab’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“I am. I think we’ve all earned a good day’s sleep. Tina? You ready?”

There was no answer.

“Where’s Tina?” I asked Mab.

We went over to where she’d been sitting. Although the sun had crossed the horizon, the cemetery remained shrouded in shadow.

“Tina? Are you asleep? Better get up now, or you’ll get sunburn on the way home.” Tina was fussy about her complexion; she’d never expose her skin to the sun.

We found some crushed grass where Tina had sat to watch our Morfran extermination. But we didn’t find Tina. Although we called, although we searched the whole cemetery, we couldn’t find her.

Tina was gone.