“They’ll be faster than you can possibly imagine. When you fire at them, aim well ahead of them. Some will have more than one head. They’ll be huge and frightening. Their eyes will glow, some red and some a hideous yellow. Try not to look directly at them.”

“Hounds of hell,” Paul muttered. “Heralders of death. Anyone who looks . . .”

Zev shot him a look and Paul fell silent. “They are that only because the mage puts a spell on them and uses them to bring his plague to those he wants dead. Don’t let their saliva get on you, or their blood. They’ll carry the plague in teeth and claws. Shoot them through their eyes, and if you can’t hit that target, aim for the throat. It won’t kill them, but it will slow them down.”

The ground vibrated. The pot of hyssop oil shook, the oil forming large rings.

“Take cover,” Zev commanded. “Take your time with each shot. Place it ahead of the hound. Remember, if there’s more than one head, all three have to be hit in the eye.” He turned his attention to Travis. “Go for the throat, it will buy you the time you need to take a steady, true aim. Don’t panic, that will get you in trouble every time. I’ll be right here.” Zev used his calmest, most steady voice, low yet carrying the weight of his authority and knowledge.

Travis nodded and dropped to one knee, sheltering behind a heavy column there on the porch. The scent of burning brimstone grew stronger and with it, the smell of fire, or rather burned grass and foliage, as if the traveling hounds were leaving behind a barren wasteland.

Zev turned toward the west, his long coat swirling around him. He watched as the first of the hounds broke out of cover and into the open. He was massive—a huge black hound with burning coals for eyes and gigantic teeth and claws, running full out toward them. Behind him, several more burst into the open, looking like a galloping herd of wild beasts, monsters so foul they could only be conceived in hell—or by a fiendishly evil mind.

With one hand, he picked up the cooking pot and poured the hyssop oil over his head so that it ran down his hair and over his face and shoulders. In one motion, he put it down, lifted his crossbow and fired the first arrow.

The arrow went true, straight into the left eye of the lead hellhound. It leapt into the air, bellowing, snarling, snapping the air with its teeth. Black blood ran down its face as it landed hard, shook its head and kept coming.

Zev heard Travis’s soft hiss of fear, but the boy didn’t run. “Steady. Don’t fire yet. I’ll take out their leader,” he cautioned softly, hoping his calm voice and matter-of-fact demeanor would give the boy courage.

He lifted his crossbow again and fired off a second arrow dipped in the hyssop oil, scoring a direct hit to the right eye. The massive black-furred hound was nearly to the porch. He snarled, pulling back his lips to reveal his razor-sharp teeth and the long, almost saber-toothed tiger canines. His body shuddered and he slowed, took two more steps and seemed to skid, his back claws still digging in for purchase as his legs propelled him forward. His muzzle hit the ground hard almost at Zev’s feet. The hound thrashed around, howling and biting the air.

“Pick one of them,” Zev instructed the others. “Hit the eyes. Make certain you’re covered in oil and if those teeth or claws get to you, yell out immediately. I’ll take care of the wound. Travis, if you’re uncertain . . .” He fired at the hound nearest to the house, once again scoring a hit directly in the left eye. The beast was running full out, its body nearly the size of a large pony. Its head was massive, the muzzle filled with giant teeth. “Aim for the throat. Take your time. You can do this.”

Paul shot the hound to the right of the one Zev had hit. His arrow hit the hound squarely between the eyes and bounced off. Paul swore softly, took a breath and sent a second arrow, this one much truer, straight into the beast’s right eye. Both hounds were running flat out, deadly venom hanging in great long strings from their muzzles. His hound veered sideways and rammed the one Zev had struck. The two hellhounds tangled for a moment, tumbling over one another, snarling and snapping.

Jubal and Travis both fired at a two-headed monster almost simultaneously. Travis’s arrow hit the hound in the throat, burying deep. Jubal’s arrow found one of the eyes. The two-headed hellhound leapt over the snarling, fighting beasts and hit the railing of the verandah, smashing the wood, landing almost on Travis.

Travis stood up, crossbow in hand, staring into the malevolent yellow eyes of the two-headed hound. It stood glaring back at him, black blood running from one eye on its left head and its throat. The animal pulled back its lips in a deadly snarl, the strings of venom increasing tenfold. The boy let out his breath and as the animal took a slow, stalking step toward him, fired his crossbow straight into the other eye of the left head.

Zev reached back with one hand, even as he let another arrow fly toward the hound, which had managed to get to its feet. Picking up the pot of oil, he threw the contents at the two-headed beast leaping at Travis. The boy backpedaled fast as he fit another arrow into his bow, firing as he stumbled away from the hellhound.

Zev felt the blast of black breath from the beast, hot and wild and tainted with evil, as he stepped between the hound and the boy. He fired calmly into the eye of the right head. Travis’s arrow had hit the throat a second time. Oil dripped from both heads of the animal, running off the fur in streams. The fur came with the oil, leaving long raw patches of blistering skin.

Maddened with pain, the hellhound thrashed around, and then hit its head against one of the columns, shaking the roof and cracking the column. One side of the roof partially collapsed over the porch as the animal hit the railing and then the side of the house. The two-headed beast spun in circles, teeth snapping at everything in its path.

Zev yanked Travis off the porch, thrusting the boy behind him as the hound Jubal fired at rose from the ground and galloped toward them with blurring speed. Zev fired rapidly, three arrows in quick succession, aiming just ahead of the hellhound. The beast leapt the last few feet, his glowing eyes not on Zev, but on the boy. One eye had two arrows sticking out of it, but the second eye was clear. The third arrow had hit him through the nose.

Zev dropped the crossbow, and caught the beast with his bare hands, snapping the massive head away from Travis.

“My knife,” he hissed, over his shoulder at the boy. He was grateful for his mixed blood, blood that gave him enormous strength, although the beast burned him right through the thin gloves he wore. Using leverage he flipped the hellhound off his feet, but his arm was dangerously close to the snapping teeth.