Free Drink Down the Moon by Charles DeLint Page A

your bike, Kate,” she said over her shoulder.
    “Jacky, what are you—”
    “Kate, just get on your bike! I’ll try to scare it off.”
    “No way. I’m not going to—”
    The dog leapt.
    Jacky screamed and flung the chain at it, only just remembering to hang onto one end of it. Before the chain could hit it, however, before the dog was upon her, a tall shape moved out of the shadows from beside the wall separating the Hill from Wellington Street. Jacky caught a glimpse of a pale face inside a dark hood before the newcomer turned on the dog. Grabbing it by the scruff of the neck, the figure started to haul back on its massive weight. But at his touch, the dog simply dissolved.
    The hooded figure took a step back, obviously surprised. Jacky, her own mouth gaping, started to pull the chain back to her in case the beast appeared again.
    “What in the Moon was that creature?” the cloaked figure asked.
    The voice was a man’s, deep and resonating. He turned towards the two women, pushing back the hood of his brown cloak.
    “One moment I had Laird knows how many pounds of some black monstrosity in my hands,” he said, “and the next nothing but smoke.”
    “I
    we’re not sure,” Jacky said.
    She was happy to see that she’d kept most of the tremble from her voice.
    The man’s features, revealed by the streetlight now that he was fully out of the shadows, proved to be strong and not altogether unhandsome. The brow was smooth, eyes somewhat wide-set, cheekbones high, chin firm. Under the brown cloak, he wore a simple shirt and brown trousers.
    “Thanks,” Jacky said.
    She left it at that. Rescuer or not, she wasn’t about to give him their names. Finn had taught her that much caution long ago.
    The man nodded. “My name’s Cumin,” he said. “Of Lochbuie. That creature
    ” He frowned. “Have you ever heard of such a thing before?”
    “It killed a Pook last night,” Jacky said.
    “Did it now.”
    Kate stepped to Jacky’s side. Her nostrils flared as she caught a scent, sensed a tingle of magic in the air.
    “Are you a gruagagh?” she asked the stranger.
    “The Gruagagh of Lochbuie,” he said. “At your service.”
    “Boy,” Jacky said with relief. “Could we use a gruagagh right about now.”
    Cumin’s brows rose quizzically. “Surely Kinrowan still has its gruagagh? He’s an old friend of mine that I haven’t seen for a very long time. Bhruic Dearg. Do you know him?”
    Jacky nodded. “But he’s not around anymore. I live in his Tower now. I’m the Jack of Kinrowan,” she added, feeling it was safe to give their names to a friend of Bhruic’s, “and this is my friend Kate.
    “I’m pleased to meet you both. But Bhruic— he’s left Kinrowan?”
    “Maybe you should come back to the Tower with us,” Jacky said. “It’s a long story. Do you have a place to stay?”
    “I’d thought to stay with Bhruic.”
    “We’ll give you the hospitality that he would have— it’s the least we can do after you chased off that dog for us. Right, Kate?”
    “Sure,” Kate said with a nod.
    But she wondered at the scent of magic that she could still sense in the air. Jacky was wrapping her chain around the seat post of her bicycle now, locking it in place, chatting to Cumin the whole time. Kate looked at the place where the gruagagh had stepped from the shadows. How could they have missed seeing him there? And why would the dog disappear when he grabbed it? It had killed a Pook
    .
    “Coming, Kate?”
    She started guiltily and hurried over to her own bike.
    “Sure,” she said again, and fell in behind them, walking her bike as Jacky was.
    What she wanted to do was jump on hers and leave this gruagagh far behind, but she didn’t know why she felt that way. There was no real reason for her nervousness, except that once it had turned into an unpleasant night, why should it necessarily change at this point?
    She listened to Jacky talk about the Pook and how she wouldn’t like to be the Hay of