In the space of a single heartbeat, between one step and the next, the dog transformed. Muscle flowed, bones popped and cracked and the dog reared up on its two hind legs, neck shortening, the planes and angles of its face and the line of its jaw shifting. The dog became an almost-human-looking young man with long dun-colored hair. Curling purple-blue tattoos spiraled on his cheeks, ran down his neck and spread across his bare chest. He was barefoot, wearing only rough-spun woolen trousers with a red and black check pattern. Bloodred eyes peered from beneath badly cut bangs.

“Gabriel, you’re hurt,” the Bard said.

“A scratch,” the dogman answered. “Nothing more. And the creature who did it to me will do nothing more.” He spoke in a singsong accent that Sophie recognized as Welsh.

One by one the dogs standing around Shakespeare blinked into a human shape.

“Are you Torc Allta?” Josh asked, remembering the creatures that had guarded Hekate’s Shadowrealm.

“They are kin to us,” Gabriel said. “We are Torc Madra.”

“Gabriel Hounds,” Sophie said, eyes sparkling silver. “Ratchets.”

Gabriel turned to look at the girl, his forked tongue tasting the air like a snake’s. “It has been a long time since we were called by that name.” The tongue appeared again. “But you are not entirely human, are you, Sophie Newman? You are the Moon Twin, and young, young, young to be carrying the knowledge of ages within you. You stink of the foul witch, Endor,” he said dismissively, turning away, nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Hey, you can’t talk to my-” Josh began, but Sophie jerked his arm, pulling him back.

Ignoring the outburst, Gabriel turned to Palamedes. “The larvae and lemur have fallen.”

“So soon!” cried the Saracen Knight. Both he and Shakespeare were visibly shaken. “Surely not all?”

“All. They are no more.”

“There were nearly five thousand…,” Shakespeare began.

“Dee is here,” Gabriel said, his voice little more than a growl. “And so too is Bastet.” He rolled his shoulders and grimaced as the wound on his back opened.

“There is something else, though, isn’t there?” Flamel said tiredly. “The Dark Elders’ followers and Dee’s agents in the city are a ragtag alliance of opposed factions who would just as soon fight one another as go into battle together. To kill the larvae and lemurs would take an army, trained and organized, loyal to one leader.”

Gabriel inclined his head slightly. “The Hunt is abroad.”

“Oh no.” Palamedes drew in a great ragged breath and shrugged the longsword from his back.

“And their master,” Gabriel added grimly.

Josh looked at his sister, wondering if she knew what the Torc Madra was talking about. Her eyes were flat silver discs and there was an expression not of fear but almost of awe on her face.