Page 114 of Hoofin’ It

“No wonder Papa likes you so much. You’re an irreverent fellow sometimes. Ah, well. It’s good for Papa to remember there are those who don’t fear him as they probably should—and that there is someone who can beat him at his own game. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. Papa thinks men like you are catalysts. You bring people together. You divide them. Wherever you go, things change. Papa enjoys the challenge you create for him. You changed the nature of our game with the CPD. You changed the nature of our hunt for prey. Papa gets bored.”

Of course Ernesto got bored. He’d been alive since the dawn of humanity, dead long before anyone had thought to write their history down in words rather than pictures. I didn’t know exactly how old he and his children were, but they played at being Etruscans, as the world had moved on without them, erasing their existence from the history books.

Pierina’s restaurant, her bewitched ceilings, and the stories they told were their true history, the one forgotten by everyone else. Maybe one day I’d ask for more of their truth, but part of me hoped Ernesto would share it on his own.

I liked to think he understood me; he’d been a vampire long before humans had believed in magic.

Quinton was careful to keep his stride smooth, which made it easy for me to hold onto his shoulder so I wouldn’t fall and add to my collection of bruises. “Papa will be angry, but I’ll warn you now. I won’t be surprised if our hosts ask for you to become human. It’s their nature to be curious. They possess the skill to force you to shift. They also possess the skill to help you heal better than those hospitals.”

The vampire spat the word as he would a curse, something I found interesting. I borrowed from my father’s silent language and bumped my nose to Quinton’s neck, giving him a brisk rub to indicate my approval. He laughed. “Your whiskers tickle. We’re almost to the barrier. You will feel strange. Most humans claim it tingles. For me, it burns as though I’ve stepped beneath the noon sun; it doesn’t harm me, but it’s uncomfortable. Don’t be alarmed at my hissing.”

One day soon, I needed to have a long talk alone with Quinton. Vampires didn’t drink alcohol, but I thought he’d be the sort I’d enjoy taking to a bar for a good bottle of Scotch.

I’d never think of Scotch the same ever again. It had brought Marian into my life.

Before I pulled a Dad and ripped Marian’s kidnapper to pieces, I’d thank him for bringing her into my life, although I’d have to fight with Marian for the right and privilege of shredding the participants in the sex trafficking operation.

“Here we go,” Quinton warned.

Lightning zapped me, and I yowled at the unexpected pain. I jerked so hard I toppled off Quinton’s shoulder, and the vampire caught me with a hissed curse. I shuddered, my body twitching. Light pierced my eyelid, and I cracked it open.

Golden crystals jutted from beds of blue and black opal, reflecting the light of chandeliers swaying from the cavern’s domed ceiling. The whisper of wind and tinkling of chimes teased my ears.

Quinton straightened, placed me on his shoulder, and lifted his chin, making no effort to disguise the pride and arrogance of someone who’d withstood thousands of years. “Welcome to Babylon, the City of Gardens.”

Gripping his shoulder with my hind paws, I stood, stretching so I could get a better look at the vast cavern, so vast I couldn’t imagine how it fit beneath Chicago—or how it had gone unnoticed. The ceiling peaked at a hundred feet, which put it near the surface.

“It has been long since you have darkened our doorway, Shepherd.” The grind of stone on stone accompanied each word, and I twisted around in search of the voice. I dropped to all fours on the vampire’s shoulder.

We were alone.

As though aware of my unease, Quinton rested his hand on my head. “I see you, Abil Ili. Please forgive my companion. He is still learning his second nature.”

“I see you and yours. I would welcome you, but you always welcome yourself, so I will welcome yours instead. May you walk in peace in our gardens, friend I’ve yet to have the pleasure of meeting.”

At a complete loss, I looked to Quinton for guidance.

“Abil Ili, this is Shane Gibson. Perhaps when he decides to stop being clever, Abil Ili will properly introduce himself. You know full well you can’t hide from me with your trickery, but it’s unfair to play such games with a youngling with but one eye and not yet taught to see you.”

“So I am rebuked.” Abil Ili chuckled, and one of the golden crystals moved. At first, I thought him human, but his similarities to a human began and ended with his pair of arms and legs. With the slow fade of a chameleon exposing itself, the golden crystal dissolved away to reveal a tall figure.

A mosaic of rainbow mirrors separated by thin bands of silver formed a carapace over an almost human chest. What I had initially mistaken to be arms were tentacles, tentacles that branched into seven curved claws, each one tipped with a glistening black hook. Fluid dripped off one, fell to the floor, and was absorbed by the stone at its feet, ridged with scales and taloned like a bird of prey’s.

The crystals nearby glowed, and the sweet scent of flowers filled my nose. For a long time, I couldn’t tear my gaze from the ground, which shimmered as though granted life.

“What has happened for you to darken our doorway, Shepherd?”

I jerked my head up and yipped at the close proximity of a mouth full of sharp fangs, the largest at least six inches long. A curved beak promised a quick death if Abil Ili decided he wanted an otter snack. I figured I’d be two decent bites. A crest of feathers rose from his head and, like his carapace, they were covered in prismatic mosaics.

“First, I wanted to notify you that the grate to the spillway has been damaged.”

“Damaged?” Abil Ili reared his head back and hissed. “Who damaged it? Why?”

“It’s a long story, and most of its telling belongs to our friend, but I think the intrigue of his words may be worth the price of his shifting and the soothing only the Babylonians can provide. I think you’ll find him an even more intriguing patient, for he’s a human who is nearly not.”

If Quinton kept speaking in riddles, I’d have a headache in no time, but I wouldn’t complain. For the moment, the pair spoke in English, allowing me to follow their conversation.

“What else do you desire from us?”