Ricky caught it, his hands wrapping in its fur as he said, “Uh-uh.” Then he turned to me. “Can you guys …?”

“Head them off before they scare the hound away?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Gabriel and I caught up with Ioan and his Cŵn Annwn. They weren’t in actual Hunt mode—just regular guys in jeans, boots, and jackets, astride horses. Not unlike the Saints, really. All they needed were patches on their jackets.

They’d managed to breach the forest, which was the best proof that the rogue Huntsman was gone, his power fading as he fled and his hound shifted allegiance to a new master.

Ioan acknowledged Gabriel’s presence with a nod, curt but not rude, and I said that everything was under control. Then I asked if he’d walk with me, leaving the horses and the others behind.

“We have the hound,” I said. “But if you go tearing over there, we won’t have it for long. It’s already spooked.”

Ioan was off his horse without a word. I explained what had happened as we walked. When I finished, Ioan said, “You’re right. We cannot bring back the dead, nor could we facilitate such a deal with any power that could. To resurrect the immediately dead, within moments of their passing? Perhaps, if death came from something reversible, such as heart failure. But to return someone who has been in her grave for months? It speaks to his grief that he even believed such a thing was possible.”

“People will believe anything when they’re in pain.”

He dipped his chin. “And this impostor took advantage of that. I will not even call him Cŵn Annwn.”

“That’s what Ricky said, too.”

Ioan smiled. “Of course he did. Our ways have always been there, in his head and in his heart, and he can pull on that as easily as he can recall the alphabet. Proof he is not another imitation of Arawn.”

He looked at Gabriel as if to make a point. Ricky was the real deal.

“You never told us how exactly you got here,” I said to Gabriel. “My text only mentioned we were heading into a forest south of the city.”

“I looked around and saw the bike and the riders.”

“In the entire south-of-Chicago region, you just happened to glance across a dark field and see guys on black horses?”

His brow furrowed as he wondered why I was bringing this up. Then he caught Ioan’s look, the flashed annoyance of a doting grandfather bragging about his boy’s field pass only to watch his competition score a touchdown. Gabriel gave me a look, as if to say that my efforts were too awkward by far.

Ioan cleared his throat. “So the hound trusts Ricky?”

“It does,” I said. “It couldn’t seem to help going after Ciro when he ran.”

“That instinct is compulsory, no matter how damaged the creature might be.”

“Ciro knew that. Which is why he ran. Death by fae hound.”

“Hmm.” Ioan tugged my elbow, steering me around a rabbit hole without even seeming to glance at the ground. “About the hound. Ricky should take it. It obviously trusts him and—”

“No.”

“It would be easier, particularly for the hound. If the beast has overcome a learned fear of Cŵn Annwn to trust Ricky, that speaks to an incredible bond, and its rehabilitation would be best facilitated—”

“Ricky lives part-time with his dad, part-time in a student apartment, and part-time at my Cainsville apartment. Two of those places are not hound-friendly. He drives a Harley. Also not hound-friendly. He goes to college and works for a motorcycle club. His life is not hound-friendly. If you suggest the cŵn needs him, he’ll feel guilty, and he doesn’t deserve to feel guilty. Worse, he’ll feel pressured. You don’t want him to feel pressured.” I turned to Gabriel. “Hey, did I mention that Ida wants to give you a house in Cainsville? She says it’s time for you to move in.”

“What?”

I turned to Ioan and waved my hand at Gabriel. “See that expression? It’s the same look of horror you’ll get if you mention Ricky taking the hound. Like offering an engagement ring on a first date.”

Ioan rolled his eyes at my dramatics, but after a moment he said, “We will care for the hound, but it may require help from Ricky.”

“Which he will give. Just … for your own sake, take it slow.”

I’d hoped, when Ioan saw the hound, he’d be able to mind-meld or whatever and get its story. But the link had been truly severed. He suspected it had suffered some trauma and the lone Huntsman took advantage of that.

“He did not do this,” Ioan said as he examined the hound’s long-healed injuries. “The hound would never have stayed with him if he did. Something happened to this poor beast. She was orphaned from her pack. He took her, and he did not treat her well, but …”

He hunkered back on his heels, rubbing the beast’s ears. She—the hound was apparently female—kept giving him sidelong looks, uncertain, not ready to commit to eye contact.

“The damage he did seems disrespect rather than abuse,” he said. “A hound is our companion, not our slave.”

“And he enslaved this one,” I said. “He treated her as a dog, which damaged her further.”

Ioan nodded, rose, and turned to Ricky. “I would like you to help us bring her to my house. I’ll keep her there. The pack alpha stays with me, and she’ll be comfortable with him.”