Page 27 of Find My Way Down to You

“Like him?” I motion toward Cary. The light breeze moves through his hair, loosening curls. I try not to stare.

“Not quite.”

I wait for Henri to explain. Instead, Cary says, “We are here.”

Looming in front of us is a large gate. The wrought iron design reminds me of the balconies above State Street Promenade’s shops. Around the vertical bars, golden vines bloom into sculpted flowers with six-pointed petals like the ones on the guards’ chests. I can’t remember the species’ name. My mom would know.

A breath hitches in my throat. Will I ever see her again? Or my dad? Am I trapped in this place, thisunderworldforever?

I clench my fists at my sides. No, there’s no time to think about that now. I need to stay vigilant.

Beyond the gates, a building reaches so high, it feels endless. Somehow, it’s slender like a skyscraper and sweeping like a palace. Imposing but beautiful. Light winks off the inky surface.

The gates sway open.

I lean forward for a closer look. “What is—”

My words are cut short by Cary’s stiff “Do not make any sudden movements.” His warning is followed by howling. Snarls coming from multiple directions.

Instinctively, I think to run. But where to? I have no clue where I am or what this placeis.

Fingers coil around my wrist. Cary’s firm grip holds me still. Slowly, he steps in front of me. We’re so close, my chest almost pressed to his spine. He positions himself between me and whatever is emerging from the billowing mist ahead.

Then I see them. A trio of Great Danes. Their fur is smoky dark. Wild eyes bluer than the Pacific stare me down. They’re big, stalking closer, pointed teeth bared.

My eyes flit to Cary. Over his shoulder, his face is fearless, almost bored.

Henri yawns. “Is this really necessary?”

The dogs’ barks echo like thunder.

When I refocus on them, there aren’t three Danes anymore. Just one enormous hound towering over us. A three-headed monster.

“Call off your beast, ferrier.” Henri flaps a dismissive hand. “We get it. He’s big and scary. Protector of the realm. No one in or out. Blah, blah, blah.”

The growling deepens, as if they just might rip Henri into three equal pieces.

Henri rolls his eyes, unbothered.

Cary edges forward. I’m forced to move with him. Being that he’s still holding my wrist as if I’m a toddler who can’t be trusted.

He drops to one knee. His other hand reaches out. “Cerby is not abeast. He is only doing what is asked of him.”

All at once, the snarling stops. With a quiet whimper, the Dane—Cerby—bows his heads. Each nudges into Cary’s touch. His tail wags vigorously until his body shrinks, then splits. He’s no longer one but three Danes again, tongues lolling.

The beginning of a smile inches Cary’s mouth up. Maybe. I doubt he’s capable of such a thing.

He whispers something to Cerby. Three pairs of hungry blue eyes jump to me. Cerby’s jaws crack, teeth visible. I don’t breathe. But Cary’s fingers snap and Cerby’s attention immediately returns to him, happy whines escaping his mouths.

“Are we finished here?” Henri asks, pouting.

Cary ignores him. With a final scratch behind each dog’s ears, he stands. Before slipping back into the mist, Cerby’s heads tilt as they examine me curiously.

“He does not know you,” Cary says, “but he will not harm you.”

I hate how my body relaxes, trusting his words.

“Does that mean”—my gaze falls between us—“I can have my hand back now?”