her cry out to her siblings, and the rope suddenly grew taut, and he began the process of scaling the pit wall.
“Heave!” Leila called out as they attempted to haul his weight.
Baarabus was helping them as much as he was able, the claws of his front and back paws sinking into the broken tile and concrete of the pit wall as he climbed.
Halfway to the top, the great dog wondered what he would find when he got there. A tingle of apprehension raced down the length of his spine, causing the hackles of hair along his back to rise like spines. He recalled the Filthy that had fallen from the sky, and the magick that had encased and killed it.
There was something about the way the magickal force charged the air, the way it smelled; it stirred something deep in the back of the animal’s memories, drawing it from the blackness.
Making him want to release the rope and fall back down into the pit, away from what potentially awaited him above.
But he didn’t, surging toward the object of his apprehension instead, climbing up the side of the pit all the faster.
He used the powerful muscles in his back legs to spring up over the edge, spitting the rope from his mouth as he scanned the area before him for a sign of what had chased away the Filthies and filled him with such foreboding.
His gaze fell upon Remy, the Fossil, and a robed and hooded figure. It was the sight of that stranger, and others similarly adorned, that brought the fear to the surface like pus from an infected wound.
“Hey, Baarabus,” Leila asked, suddenly beside him. She placed a tender hand upon his large blocky head. “You all right?”
“Don’t touch me!” the dog roared, snapping at the offending hand.
The young woman recoiled with horror, jumping back as the dog again turned his attention to the strangers speaking with Remy.
His Remy.
The memories surged to the surface, recollections thought buried so very deep that they would never be considered again.
Memories of another time, before . . . when the animal was something else, something loyal, innocent, and pure of heart.
• • •
Marlowe watched as his world crumbled around him.
Something bad was happening, something that made his ears hurt and the house in which he lived tremble and shake, raining plaster and glass onto him and his Madeline.
His Madeline.
He wanted to protect her, to get her away from the bad happenings, but they were all around them.
Marlowe barked excitedly as the air became filled with the choking smoke and dust. His Madeline was trying to make it toward him, to follow the sound of his voice, but the ceiling above her head started to crumble, collapsing down upon her.
Without hesitation he charged forward, over the rubble and through the dust, searching for the woman. Marlowe could not help himself, whimpering and barking pathetically as he scoured the area now covered in the broken pieces of his home.
The building continued to shake, creating sounds that foreshadowed even more terrible happenings. There were other noises as well—sounds from outside that terrified him so badly that he wanted to pee inside. But he tried his best to ignore his fears, to be the good dog—the best dog—that his Remy and his Madeline always said that he was.
And right now he had to find his Madeline and take her from this breaking place.
Marlowe sniffed and listened. He heard a moan nearby, and then caught a whiff of blood, which made him cry out. He followed the coppery scent, pressing his nose against the dust-covered floor, pushing aside the rubble to find his most cherished prize.
He found her under a section of wall that had tumbled inward. She moaned beneath the rubble, her hand extended out from underneath the wall and window frame. He could see that her hand had been cut, and blood oozed from the multiple wounds. He approached gingerly so as not to scare her, placing his snout into her open fingers to let her know that he was there. She responded, her fingertips weakly scratching at his nose. He was so happy that she was still moving; excitedly, he licked at the wounds to stop them from bleeding further.
“Marlowe,” he heard her say softly from beneath the rubble. She started to move, to try to wriggle out from beneath the wreckage that had fallen atop her. He tried to help her, furiously digging around the rubble with his front paws.
“Hold on, boy,” she said