“I’m so sorry.”
“It was not your fault that I came after you,” he said gently, the gold flecks in his eyes glowing. “I would rather be a dog with you than human shaped without you.”
They hugged and Rage wept a scatter of tears that she wiped off on her sleeve before they drew apart so that he would not see them. “Can you…tell me exactly what Bear said about me?”
Billy reddened slightly, but he said calmly enough, “She said that you had powers that you didn’t know you had.”
Rage chewed her lip, thinking about how, when the wizard was trapped in the hourglass, he could not talk to her except when she dreamed. “Maybe the wizard sent that dream of the firecat to me,” she murmured. “Maybe something has gone wrong in Valley. The firecat said he needed me. But even if that was true, what could I do? There’s no gateway to Valley from here anymore.”
Billy’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Maybe you could call one of the others to your dreams like you did me. Then you could ask.”
“But I don’t know how I called you here, if I did.”
“Maybe it’s as simple as wanting to talk to someone and carrying the wanting into your dreams.” Billy gave her a shy look.
Rage gasped. “You must be right! I’ve just remembered! Last night, just before I fell asleep, I wished for you to be human shaped again so that we could talk, just as I did when we went through the bramble gate!”
Billy opened his mouth to speak, and vanished.
The first thing Rage realized when she opened her eyes was that Billy was growling. It was a low, ferocious dog rumble that would have been terrifying to her if she hadn’t known it was him. She sat bolt upright, clutching the warm quilt. Billy was under the window, close enough to the night-light for it to gleam on his coat. He was staring at the curtain, which swayed in a draft.
The hair rose on Rage’s arms and neck at the thought that one of the beasts she had seen with Logan might be prowling about the farm. Wild boar or wolf, one smash and the window would shatter. The walls might even collapse if a bunch of the huge creatures threw their weight against the house. Billy would be no match for one of them, yet she knew it would not stop him from attacking. In his human form, he would be smart enough to realize they were too big for him to fight, but in his dog form, he was almost as bad as Elle had been: all fight and courage and not much thought.
Rage reasoned that it was far more likely that Billy was growling at a fox or some small animal in search of food. Sliding her feet into her slippers, she rose, reaching out to catch a handful of the soft fur ruff at the back of Billy’s neck. He was still growling, and now she could feel that all his muscles were bunched as if he intended to jump.
To her surprise, instead of straining against her grip as he would normally have done, Billy stopped growling at once and turned to look at her. Her fear evaporated in a thrill of joy at seeing the intelligence of his human self in his eyes.
Billy began to growl again, more urgently than before.
“Okay,” Rage whispered. She released Billy and waited anxiously to see what he would do, but he only pawed at her thigh and padded to the door. She followed him because this had been his way of signaling yes when they had first returned from Valley. He looked up at her and growled one short, low rumble, as if chiding her to pay attention.
Rage closed her hand around the iron knob in the center of the antique door. It felt icy, reminding her of the burning cold of the bike-shed latch bar. She opened the door. The hall was dark, and cold flowed toward her, making her wish she had put on her bathrobe. She wanted to get to where her uncle slept. It had been added on to the original house and, unlike the rest, was built of double brick. The windows of both the small rooms that made up the extension also had sturdy wrought-iron covers, and a solid oak door separated it from
“It was not your fault that I came after you,” he said gently, the gold flecks in his eyes glowing. “I would rather be a dog with you than human shaped without you.”
They hugged and Rage wept a scatter of tears that she wiped off on her sleeve before they drew apart so that he would not see them. “Can you…tell me exactly what Bear said about me?”
Billy reddened slightly, but he said calmly enough, “She said that you had powers that you didn’t know you had.”
Rage chewed her lip, thinking about how, when the wizard was trapped in the hourglass, he could not talk to her except when she dreamed. “Maybe the wizard sent that dream of the firecat to me,” she murmured. “Maybe something has gone wrong in Valley. The firecat said he needed me. But even if that was true, what could I do? There’s no gateway to Valley from here anymore.”
Billy’s eyes lit up in excitement. “Maybe you could call one of the others to your dreams like you did me. Then you could ask.”
“But I don’t know how I called you here, if I did.”
“Maybe it’s as simple as wanting to talk to someone and carrying the wanting into your dreams.” Billy gave her a shy look.
Rage gasped. “You must be right! I’ve just remembered! Last night, just before I fell asleep, I wished for you to be human shaped again so that we could talk, just as I did when we went through the bramble gate!”
Billy opened his mouth to speak, and vanished.
The first thing Rage realized when she opened her eyes was that Billy was growling. It was a low, ferocious dog rumble that would have been terrifying to her if she hadn’t known it was him. She sat bolt upright, clutching the warm quilt. Billy was under the window, close enough to the night-light for it to gleam on his coat. He was staring at the curtain, which swayed in a draft.
The hair rose on Rage’s arms and neck at the thought that one of the beasts she had seen with Logan might be prowling about the farm. Wild boar or wolf, one smash and the window would shatter. The walls might even collapse if a bunch of the huge creatures threw their weight against the house. Billy would be no match for one of them, yet she knew it would not stop him from attacking. In his human form, he would be smart enough to realize they were too big for him to fight, but in his dog form, he was almost as bad as Elle had been: all fight and courage and not much thought.
Rage reasoned that it was far more likely that Billy was growling at a fox or some small animal in search of food. Sliding her feet into her slippers, she rose, reaching out to catch a handful of the soft fur ruff at the back of Billy’s neck. He was still growling, and now she could feel that all his muscles were bunched as if he intended to jump.
To her surprise, instead of straining against her grip as he would normally have done, Billy stopped growling at once and turned to look at her. Her fear evaporated in a thrill of joy at seeing the intelligence of his human self in his eyes.
Billy began to growl again, more urgently than before.
“Okay,” Rage whispered. She released Billy and waited anxiously to see what he would do, but he only pawed at her thigh and padded to the door. She followed him because this had been his way of signaling yes when they had first returned from Valley. He looked up at her and growled one short, low rumble, as if chiding her to pay attention.
Rage closed her hand around the iron knob in the center of the antique door. It felt icy, reminding her of the burning cold of the bike-shed latch bar. She opened the door. The hall was dark, and cold flowed toward her, making her wish she had put on her bathrobe. She wanted to get to where her uncle slept. It had been added on to the original house and, unlike the rest, was built of double brick. The windows of both the small rooms that made up the extension also had sturdy wrought-iron covers, and a solid oak door separated it from
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