“No.” The count hisses. “That is too dangerous.”
Harlow snaps an angry glare to my host. “She’ll be fine.”
“Can you defend her from attack while flying? I think not.” Jean-Claude pinches his lips like an overbearing pompous noble. “I’ve seen you in the air, Mr. Loveless. Most birds are faster than you are, you’d never escape a harpy, and a Banshee’s howl will have you on your ass faster than you can blink.”
“Harpy?” I repeat, shaking my head as I swallow hard. “Banshee?”
Harlow’s face goes pink and his nose flares, but he doesn’t retort. I’m relieved. I feel comfortable with Harlow, but more so on the ground. The first time flying with him was not what I’d call a good experience. Still, I feel a certain sense of loyalty and want to defend my friend. “Let’s find a solution… together.”
It isn’t an ultimatum. It’s a request. But neither one takes it that way.
The count hisses. “I already have arrangements to take you.”
“What arrangements?” Harlow puffs his chest out and stares up at the count, crossing his arms across his broad chest. .
A clip-clop, clip-clop of hooves sings around the corner, and an enormous black horse with flaming red mane, tail and equally red eyes appears. It paws the ground, followed by a four-seater carriage pulling up to the end of the driveway. I’m not sure how the cart is being pulled by the horse because I don’t see any attachments between coach and steed, yet the box carriage seemingly follows the one-horse team.
Stregen sits atop the fine, black driver’s seat with the black horse. Suddenly, black-feathered wings stretch out from under the horse’s massive mane.
“Pegasus!” I turn to the count. “You have a Pegasus?”
The count frowns. “His name is Pilot, and he is a winged equine. He is also under my employ. I don’t own him.”
“Oh! I’ve never seen a Pegasus before!” I run towards the carriage.
“Careful, Everly!” Harlow shouts. “They eat meat.”
The count scoffs. “Pilot would never eat a passenger and certainly not one of mine.”
“Yeah, what about after delivery?”
Harlow’s message is clear. Everything in Dread is dangerous. Including horses. I hate this place.
Stregen hops down as I halt a good distance from the Pegasus. “Hello, Pilot!” I say apprehensively. I wanted to pet him but now I’m nervous.
Pilot waves his head up and down, flashing his mane. He looks friendly, but I’m not convinced.
The count’s ghoul opens the carriage door while I admire Pilot from a distance. “You are really quite beautiful,” I say to him.
Another emphatic head wave. That’s when I’m glad I aced Beast Sense at the Academy of Divination, as I hear a deep voice in my head:
Thank you, my lady. You are quite beautiful, yourself.
Thank you, I think back.
Pilot’s ears perk forward, and his eye rolls in surprise. You know Beast Sense! The count thought you might, but I didn’t believe it.
I look back at Jean-Claude and watch as he continues to argue with Harlow.
I laugh and take a step closer. Yes, I know Beast Sense.
Behind me, Harlow and the count continue to argue with open hostility as to whose responsibility I am. I sigh, and turn to Pilot. Pilot, are you able to carry all of us, or do you have a weight limit?
The winged horse whines and tosses his mane. I can take you all. A twinge of pride seeps through his indignant response.
I thought so, I answer and turn around and shout to the two idiots, “Pilot says he can take us all! So we’re all going!”
Stregen, the good ghoul, holds the door open for me as I approach the steps. In a flash, Harlow is at my side, offering me a hand up. I take it and bounce inside.
The count sits across from me while Harlow snuggles himself beside me, crowding me against the paneling, his arm around my shoulders. And he said vampires have a problem with personal space. It must be the gloves making Harlow so bold. Somehow, I manage to slide my purse off my back and next to my feet.
This carriage is much nicer than the one Harlow and I took from the train station. The windows are tinted. Several handholds drape down from the ceiling. The velvet fabric is a plush, deep red, and the headspace is taller to accommodate the count’s immense size.
The cart lurches forward, and I realize, too late, that these two in close proximity isn’t a good idea. Neither one takes their eyes off the other. Harlow snarls like a hyena at the count. A growl, low but threatening, aimed at Harlow, lingers deep in the count’s throat. The tension in the small four-seater carriage stifles even my dryad patience.
“What is the matter with you two?” I demand.
They remain silent, glaring at each other, until the count decides to speak up. “Mr. Loveless is naturally petrified. He’s a small fish in a big ocean, swimming right next to the largest of sharks… one which will, undoubtedly… eat him!”
Harlow growls. “If that’s the case, why do you feel threatened by me? Oh, I get it, you’re jealous of the comradery between Everly and me, aren’t you?” Harlow apparently has no problem allowing his smugness to show.
“I am neither threatened by you, incubus, nor am I jealous of anything,” Jean-Claude announces as he leans over, closer to Harlow, and the incubus leans back, swallowing hard. Clearly, Jean-Claude makes Harlow uncomfortable.
“Hey!” I shuffle an elbow into Harlow’s side. “Will you two just quit it? Please?”
That gets the count to cast his gaze elsewhere and Harlow to sweetly smile my way. The cart ramps up in speed, and my stomach drops. The scenery outside the window goes from urban to sky, as Pilot takes off, lifting upward. I can
