“Hello, sweethearts,” said Jack, voice high and sweet and nothing like it normally was. “Who wants to go for a little trip?”

“Is that how you’re supposed to talk to horses?” asked Christopher. “I always thought that was how you talked to—oh my God.”

“Yes, well, horse brains in decent condition are harder to come by than you would think. Dog brains are substantially easier.” Jack stroked the velvety patchwork muzzle of the first horse, offering it a fond smile. “It made training somewhat complicated, but they’re generally eager to please.”

“Uh … huh,” said Christopher.

There were two horses in the pen. “Horses” was really the only word that could apply to them: while some other words might have been accurate, they were also, to a one, insulting, and Christopher was fairly sure Jack wouldn’t approve. The first horse, the one Jack was stroking, appeared to have started its existence as several horses. Several horses and possibly, going by the shape of its left haunch, some sort of cow. The pieces had been cunningly stitched together, and while there were thin ridges of scar tissue between them, they had all healed cleanly, leaving a single intact mare behind.

It was impossible to tell whether the second horse was a mare, a stallion, or something else entirely, as it had no skin. No flesh, either; it was a tall skeleton, bones joined by loops of silver wire and complicated hooks. Dim lights gleamed in its eye sockets. It nosed at Christopher’s shoulder before snorting loudly. An impossible gust of hot air ruffled his hair.

“How…?” he asked.

“Science, for Pony,” said Jack, patting the patchwork horse’s shoulder. “Necromancy, for Bones. I had to ride all the way to the next village. It’s held by an old ally of Dr. Bleak’s, a woman who lives in constant conflict with a terrible monster of her own creation who haunts the nearby fens. Really, I prefer vampires. They’re tidier. Still, Pony requires more maintenance. Bits of her fall off all the time, and I wind up spending the evening sewing them back on.”

“You named your horse ‘Pony.’” Christopher couldn’t take his eyes off Bones. The skeletal horse was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in … in …

In a very long time.

“In my defense, I was very young, and had no sense of showmanship. Although I’ll deny it if you tell anyone I said so, I’m glad I built her so early. ‘Pony’ is a much better name than ‘Corpseblossom,’ which is doubtless what she’d have been called if I’d put her together during my pretension and depressing poetry phase. Here.” She tossed him a bridle. “See if Bones will let you put this on. We need to get them hitched and be on our way.”