Heir of the Dog Black Dog (17 page)

I knew to the marrow of my bones that beast was Raven and that this attack was a warning.

The scent of blood, dulled through the filter of the rabbit’s skin, told me Rook was injured. Grunting through the pain, Rook knocked the hound aside and sprinted around the stone. His heavy breaths mirrored mine. My feet tapped in a sympathetic rhythm.

Faster. Faster.
Hurry
.

The thump of padded feet on mossy ground pursued us. Eager cries lifted the hairs all over my body. Shivering awareness set my whiskers twitching. The sensation of being watched rushed over me, bristling my fur.

In the darkness ahead, I spied two gleaming eyes. One to either side of the trees.

One eye was a tranquil blue, the other a simmering red. Watchers then. Both of them.

Their arrival heralded an avalanche of doubts. What did they know we didn’t? Was this the end? Was a trap set ahead? Were we running toward it? Were they watching a predestined event? Death elevated for their entertainment?

Rook skidded as he rounded a squat tree. A yelp rose behind us as a hound smashed into the trunk.

I wanted to pump my fist. I did grin up at him. Even if he spared a glance down, and he didn’t, I felt pretty sure that the bunny equivalent of a smile was more spastic nose aerobics. Muscles in my face weren’t used to all the phantom muscle memory embedded in this skin. Not that I wouldn’t take nasal discomfort over, well, imminent death.

Bunny brain must be a thing. All I needed was fluff in my head while we were in danger.

We
.

Rook had taken a hit for me. He could have flung me at the dogs and ran or shifted and flown into the welcoming skies. But he hadn’t. He had stayed. He was running for our lives to reach púca sanctuary.

I pressed my face against his shirt and breathed in his smoky scent.

Nudging my mind toward clarity, I prepared myself. The burrow entrance wasn’t far from here. I had to be ready to bolt when my paws hit dirt.

Rook could shift in a blink. The learning curve was all mine.

“Between those two oaks,” Rook panted. “Do you see the brambles? When I set you down, run left. The entrance is underneath a sprig of holly. Follow the tunnel until you reach the commons.” He clutched me tighter. “Wait for me there. If something happens... I’m sorry I brought you into this.”

I dug my claws into his arm, clinging to him. I didn’t want to let go. But I had to. The hounds snapped on his heels. The time it would take him to shift, he would lose by getting me near the briar hedge. At least if he socked me away, he could take wing. He was better off alone. Without me, the beasts would release him unscathed. It wasn’t his blood they craved.

Rook’s stride hitched. Vicious growls rose up behind him. Impact jarred me out of his arms and sent me tumbling across the ground. I landed on all fours facing him. The same hound as before tore into Rook’s back, shredding his cloak and gnawing on the light armor. I twisted to run, tried to go. I couldn’t. My rabbit’s heart beat so hard my chest ached and black spots swam in my vision.

The predator in me snarled. This was not me. I was not this weak or this pathetic. I was not prey.

Rook sank his elbow into the hound’s muzzle, sat up and located me. “Go, Thierry. Run. Stay safe.”

Stay safe
. I owed him that.

Running didn’t work. This body lacked that function. Hopping. That was what rabbits did. They evaded danger, not confronted it. Locking down that mentality, I kicked off with my hind legs and launched myself face-first into the dirt. Spitting dirt, I tried again and face-planted again.

Giving up on the dream of leaping to safety, I pushed onto all fours and focused on coordinating a shuffling hop step. It worked. I covered a foot. Two feet. Three. Four. Five. I was going to make it.

Behind me the snapping of teeth set my fur on edge.

Block it out. Keep going. Head down, eyes forward.
Be the bunny
.

The brambles waited ahead. I skirted the perimeter in search of the holly sprig. Found it. Spotted the tiny hole beneath it and crept forward. Briars tugged out clumps of fur, but none caught my skin.

Score one for rabbitdom.

Squashing the voice in the back of my head saying jumping down a black hole without knowing who or what waited for me down there was suicide, I flung my legs into an awkward frenzied gallop.

The urge to check on Rook was a twitch in my neck. I resisted. Barely.

Snuffling sounds blew moist breath down my back as I scraped and clawed my way deeper. A sharp yelp stung my ears—the hound’s introduction to the briars. I crawled until the light behind me winked out and all was darkness. My eyesight had weakened as a rabbit, along with all my other senses as they were filtered through the skin.

Muted voices drifted up to me from far below me. The tone indicated curiosity more than fear. That heartened me. The púcas wouldn’t recognize this skin as mine, but I hoped they would be willing to bargain for a bite to eat and a place to rest until Rook came for me. However long that took. Assuming he survived.

Please let him be alive.

The farther I went, the more I began wondering if I was alone in this section of the burrow. The hounds might have flushed the púcas farther into their tunnels than I was willing to go. Though I was safe for now, I knew the bramble hedge would thwart the beasts only long enough for them to realize that as shallow as this section of tunnel was, they could likely track me over ground until I emerged in an unprotected spot.

The longer I stayed, the harder I fought the inevitable and the greater risk I was to the púcas who dwelled here. They wouldn’t welcome the discovery of their burrow by predators or its destruction.

I bargained with myself. If I encountered a resident, I would ask for food and temporary shelter. For news of Rook if they had any. They must have spies guarding the entrance. They might know how the fight ended. If no one came to usher me out or guide me in, then I would stumble in the dark until I found the way out on my own.

Rook mentioned returning to Autumn, but I didn’t see the point unless he felt residents of Autumn were more sympathetic to my plight, which I doubted. Living in harmony with Winter, they must want Unseelie rule.

“Who are you?” The timid voice was absorbed by the damp walls.

Try as I might, I couldn’t speak to answer him. Frustrated, I thumped my foot and hissed out an odd squeal. A sigh filled my ears. Faint shuffling as the púca edged nearer.

“You’re doing it wrong.” The voice gentled. “You can’t speak in this form. No one can. You’re going to have to give your skin a voice. Go on. Think it. Let magic speak for you. It’s the only way.”

Pick a voice? Think it? Crazy as it sounded, what did I have to lose? I focused the same as I did when willing magic into my palm, only this time I envisioned the memory of how my voice sounded to me. I would die before admitting it out loud, but I visualized it as a thought bubble forming over my head.

“I’m Macsen Sullivan’s daughter,” a voice similar to mine said.

“Ah. We were expecting you last night.” More rustling sounds. “Come along. Follow me.”

The púca led me through more twists and turns than I could ever keep straight on my own. If I had been myself, I could have followed our scent trails, but no way was two-legged me fitting down this rabbit hole.

Exhaustion tugged at the corners of my mind. The thought of losing my faint grip on this skin, of shifting to human while underground, made my mouth run dry.

That death would suck.

I clung to the hope the púca’s offer of hospitality was genuine and that we would part as friends. If he had any more advice on how to make this body work for me, well, more’s the better.

We crept through the tunnel for a half hour before light trickled in and illuminated my host. His fur was the same glossy black as all others of his kind. He was unremarkable except for one speck of white on his rump, like someone meant to give him a cotton tail but missed the mark.

“Watch your step,” the púca cautioned before leaping out of sight.

Squinting against the bright light of the large cavern, I spotted my host and fumbled my jump to rejoin him. A few snickers made heat rise in my furry cheeks. Let them laugh. They had it easy. They were born shifters.

For me, experiencing my essence being stuffed into another form, one that retained phantom memories from its previous occupant, was downright creepy. Despite that, I was still kicking. I was fighting. So yuck it up, furballs. Laugh with me or at me, I didn’t care. Not while being alive tasted so sweet.

My guide cleared his throat. “You’ll be more comfortable in here.”

Mustering my dignity, I sidestepped after him into a room large enough for a sitting human.

“In case of an accident,” the púca answered my unasked question. “Stay here. We’re all safer that way.” The rabbit paused. “Your friend, Rook. If he arrives, I will send him to you. If he doesn’t...”

“If he doesn’t show up soon, I’ll leave. I don’t want to bring trouble to your door since you were kind enough to help me.” I sat flat on my butt since my haunches were wobbly. “I haven’t eaten in a long time. I’m running on fumes. If you had any food to share...” I couldn’t say I would be grateful. That sounded too much like
thanks
, which might land me in hot water later, “...that would be nice.”

The púca grinned. “We have plenty here. It’s why we live on the border. Spring is flush with all sorts of delicacies, but Autumn is safer for our kind. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll return shortly.”

Following his advice, I forced my legs to work and flopped onto a bed of fresh straw. My paws ached and my muscles twinged. Everything hurt, but I shut my eyes with a smile. Pain meant I was still alive. It was hard to be upset about that.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Straw crinkled beneath me when I twisted onto my back. Scratching an itchy spot on my belly with the short nails on my front paws, I yawned. My lids cracked open, and through the frame made of my hind legs, I saw him. Rook. His sleek head rested under his left wing.

Magic surged through me, snapping my grip on the skin. I screamed when it ripped free and I exploded to normal size, whacking the ceiling with my head.

“Freaking monkeys,” I hissed.

Careful of the startled rook, I folded my legs and crammed myself into the smallest space possible to give us each breathing room. The bird stood pressed flush against the opposite wall, his tiny chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Sorry about that.” I lifted the rabbit skin off my knee. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

He relaxed and cocked his head.

“I’m glad to see you. I was—”
don’t say relieved
, “—relieved you’re okay.”

With a rustle of feathers, he lit on my knee.

“I guess you can’t do the talking thing or you would have by now.” I examined the tiny cubby, our sanctuary. “Did the food ever show up?” I felt around under my thighs. My fingers hit a bowl the size of my cupped palm. I raised it to my nose and inhaled, relieved as the sharp, sweet scent hit the back of my throat and revived my senses. “No idea what these are, but they smell delicious.” I showed him one. “What do you think?”

His head tilted side to side while his beak worried the taut flesh. It was an odd-looking berry, deep-orange-colored flesh splattered with red splotches. He pierced the skin and ran his tongue over the tear.

When he tugged the oblong berry from my grasp and swallowed it whole, I figured that meant it was safe to eat as far as he could tell. Good enough for me. I picked one for myself and popped it into my mouth. Cool juices burst on my tongue, sweet, tart and delicious. I alternated feeding myself and Rook until he shook his head and hopped back to his corner while I polished off the rest and wiped my sticky fingers on the bedding.

While I sat there enjoying the sensation of having a full stomach, the bird vanished in a blast of magic. A heartbeat later, Rook’s base form crammed the other half of the room, squishing me against the wall.

“We should talk.” He grunted, shifting his weight while trying to cross his legs like mine.

“Hold still.” I pulled his legs to either side of my hips, unhooked my ankles and straightened my legs above his lap until I could drape them over his thighs and brace them on the opposite wall. Tall as he was, Rook’s head brushed the ceiling. He had to sit with his neck bent hard to one side. “Here. Wiggle down some. Not like that. You need to scoot your butt closer to me. There. Isn’t that better?”

His eyes twinkled. “Much.”

I glanced down at the meeting of our pelvises and slowly arched an eyebrow. “Glad to hear it.”

His gaze swept over me. “Are you hurt?”

“I wasn’t the one who faced down the hounds.” I nudged his hip with the toe of my shoe. “Are you okay?”

A stiff roll of his shoulders was his answer.

Knowing better than to push, I changed strategies. “What’s the plan?”

“We return to Autumn.” He gave me no time to argue before adding, “Black Dog keeps a den there.”

“Do you really believe if we find him that he’s going to switch places with me?”

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

“What makes you so sure?” If Mac viewed finding the king’s killer more important than saving me, that’s what he would do. The sense of justice that fueled his legend would settle for nothing less. The woods buzzed with news of the hunt. If Macsen wanted to play rescuer, he was missing his cue.

“You’re his heir,” Rook said, as though it should be obvious. “He will help if given the chance.”

“If he’s still in Faerie, he must have heard the rumors by now.” I lifted my hands. “But I don’t see him.”

“It depends.” He traced the curve of my ankle. “Seasons change on Earth. Some are mild, some are harsh. The thing they all have in common is they will pass. Seasons are static here. Portions of each season reflect the best and worst facets of each period. If your father is in the desert or the tundra, the message will be delayed if it reaches him at all.” Rook studied a crack in the dirt by his cheek. “We just don’t know.”