The beast’s magic shivered. Georgie sat up. Next to him Declan put his hand on his sword.
A foul gray liquid spilled from the hound’s carcass. The flesh and bone melted, turning into pale goo. The magic curved around it, twisting like cotton candy on a stick. Dark vapor streamed from the surface. The puddle shrank, and the vapor grew darker and solidified into a tall man. A long cloak with a hood hid him, pooling about his feet and turning into smoke at the edges.
Georgie sucked in a sharp breath. The man’s magic pressed on him, trapping him like a huge heavy slab of rock. Fear skittered down his arms, leaving goose pimples.
“He can’t hurt you in this form,” Declan’s quiet voice said next to him. “His magic might slither in, but it will be weak. Show no fear. Don’t give him the satisfaction.”
The vapor man turned to them. “Ah. I wondered who shot off a military-grade flash wave in this forsaken place. Just had to see for myself. I had a glimmer of hope it was my dear brother, but I see it’s just you.” His voice was soft and gentle, but for some reason it chilled Georgie all the way to his bones.
“What’s with the cloak?” Declan said.
The man ignored him. “And who would you be?” The darkness of the hood swallowed the man’s face, but Georgie knew the man’s eyes fixed on him, pressing down on him like a great weight. Magic snaked from the man in long, translucent tendrils of dark smoke. They licked the ward and slithered through it.
Georgie stared with wide eyes as the magic crept closer. It was hungry . . . So very hungry.
Declan flashed. A screen of white shot from him, stinging the tendrils. The dark magic recoiled.
“Keep your claws off the kid,” the blueblood growled.
Georgie breathed a little.
“Mmmmmm.” A low deep sound rumbled in the phantom man’s throat. “As brash as ever, Declan.” The magic swirled around him, each translucent tentacle encircled by a thin vein of dark purple. The puddle rolled forward, and the man advanced.
Georgie sat frozen. Declan was right there, and he didn’t move. He just sat there, looking slightly bored.
The puddle touched the ward and stopped.
“Interesting,” the man murmured. He raised his arms, elbows close to his body, hands up. The sleeves of the robe fell back, revealing long, slender fingers stained with a mottled patina of purple and yellow. Just like the hounds’ hides, only pale. “Let us see,” he said softly, stretching “see” into a snakelike whisper.
The magic shot from him in an explosion of darkness and clamped on to the ward, biting at it, trying to pull it apart. The tentacles flailed and jerked, but the ward held. The man glanced down, and the magic tendrils struck at the closest ward stone. They clamped on to it and twisted, trying to jerk it up.
The man arched his back, straining. His dark magic pried the rock loose. The puddle at his feet shrank faster.
Georgie’s heart beat so fast inside his chest he thought it might explode.
The ward stone rose two inches. A pale network of translucent reddish magic stretched from it, burrowing down into the ground, as if the stone had roots.
The man’s rigid body shook with strain. The stone gained another inch of height, pulling more red roots out of the ground on both sides with a creaking sound. He clawed at the air. The ward stone shivered and crashed down into place.
Declan laughed, but it was harsh and cold, and Georgie wasn’t sure what was more frightening, the dark man or the way Declan bared his teeth.
“They know how to root their wards,” Declan said.
The man flicked the sleeves of his robe back over his hands, first left, then right. “No matter,” he said. “I’ll still kill them all.”
“Not while I’m here, Casshorn.”
The man turned to Georgie, and once again, he felt as if the man’s gaze pierced him and clenched his heart in a cold fist.
“Boy . . .” Casshorn said. “I shall make you a deal. Remove the stones. Let me in. I’ll let you and your family leave. You can trade your lives for Declan’s. After all, he can’t be anything to you. You probably met him only a day or two ago.”
Georgie swallowed. His thoughts broke to pieces and ran in all directions, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t catch any of them.
“It seems like a hard choice,” the man said. A kind tone overlaid his words, but it was shallow, and beneath it Georgie sensed ruthless hunger. “But upon closer examination, it really isn’t. You have a mother. She loves you. She feeds you, and clothes you, and brushes your hair. And you love her, am I correct? There is nothing stronger than the bond between a mother and her child. Your mother would do anything to keep you safe. Now I give you a chance to do something for her. You can save her life. That’s a wonderful trade, boy. The life of your mother for the life of a stranger. That’s a good, honorable trade.” He motioned with his right arm. “Come to me.”
Georgie finally managed to pin down a thought. “No.”
“Will you really let your mother die?” The man rocked back.
“I have no mother,” Georgie said. “And you’re lying. You would kill everyone.”
“From the mouths of babes . . .” Declan said.
Casshorn sighed. “It is a shame. I was looking forward to watching you strike the boy down, Declan. Witnessing you do things you hate is highly entertaining. No matter. Soon, I’ll watch you fight my wolf, which should prove quite a spectacle.” Casshorn turned to Georgie. “Are you sure you don’t want to move the stones, boy? I promise, I would make it quick, if not painless, for you.”
“Leave him be,” Declan said.
“I can’t,” Casshorn said, his voice slightly puzzled. “You see, he is so very full of magic. It awakens a most peculiar sensation in me. A kind of longing. I think it’s hunger. They say that human meat has a peculiar taste. I’ve been developing a craving for it of late. It’s odd. I’ve never been guilty of gluttony, but once I kill you, Declan, I think I’ll gorge myself on your flesh.”
Georgie shuddered. Declan simply stared.
Rose’s voice floated through the kitchen window. “I found them! Honestly, Jack, is it too much trouble to take care of your shoes?”
“A girl,” Casshorn said. “Of course. Is she delicious like the child?”
Declan said nothing.
“I see. There is another child inside, isn’t there? You do understand you can’t protect them? I’ll pick them off one by one, when you’re not looking. And then I’ll feed. Especially on the girl. Such a lovely voice. I bet she’s succulent. Juicy.” Casshorn shivered. “It was a mistake to come here alone, Declan. You aren’t enough to stop me, and the locals are too weak to help you. They scurry to and fro like garbage rats atop their little garbage heap between the worlds, but in the end they will all die. I know why my brother sent you—he hopes to avoid the scandal. I know why you’ve agreed to come alone—you’re still hoping to save the wolf from the executioner’s axe. None of it will make an iota of difference. As usual, you’re too late . . .”
“You’re raving,” Declan told him.
“Am I? I must be.” Casshorn sighed again in resignation. “It’s time to go, I suppose. I leave you with this parting thought: you may think you can put yourself between the girl and my hounds in the Edge, but what will you do when she goes into the Broken, where my wolf prowls? He will slit her throat and paint himself red. You remember how much he enjoys murder . . .”
The puddle beneath Casshorn had dried up completely. He began to fade from the bottom up. “This is just lovely,” he said. “And here I was thinking I would get bored.” He dipped his fingers into his hood and held them out as if blowing a kiss. “Until later, children.”
He vanished. The last shreds of magic dissolved into the air. Nothing remained of the beast or the puddle.
Georgie swallowed. His whole body had gone numb, and now little needles pricked his fingers and feet. “Who was that?”
“A sick man overdue for his cure,” Declan said, looking at his sword. “For him, there is only one kind.”