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“Are you serious?” I boom, and the beast flinches. I try to lower my voice and clear my throat. “Tanner, we can’t have that thing here. What are you thinking?”

“It’s not a thing,” Sam says, putting his hand on the Hellhound’s flat bony head. “It’s Nico.”

“I looked into its mind,” Tanner says, walking over to me. “I don’t know how, but I think Sam’s right. I think he made it out when the portal opened.”

“And it turned him into one of those?” I ask, bracing my hands behind my head and letting my elbows jut out sideways.

“Or The King turned him before the ascension,” Mack says, holding out his hand as Rev returns to the room holding both bandages and clothes.

After he’s pulled on a customary pair of gray sweats—the ones Rev keeps in stock because he goes through so hell-damned many of them—he looks a little more like himself.

He moves to the couch and sits down. I follow him, glancing at where Rev is helping Sam and Tanner bandage the beast’s foot.

“You really think that’s Nico?” I ask.

Mack looks at me, takes in the veins on my face, and purses his lips. “If Tanner says so,” he replies.

“Can he shift? Like a were?”

“I don’t know, Kole.” Mack rubs his palm over his face. “I found it in the woods. I was going to kill it but Sam told me not to.” He glances at the door. “I should go.”

“No.” I put my hand on his thigh. “You’re here now, Baloo. You should stay.”

“I don’t know if I can, Kole.”

“You have to.” I swallow hard, then say quietly, “Rhone, we need you. I need you. I’m—”

“I know. You’re all kinds of fucked up right now, Kole, but so am I. And I don’t think I can carry the four of you as well as myself.”

“He’s seizing!” Tanner yells.

Mack and I jump to our feet. By the time we’ve crossed the room, the Hellhound is gone.

In its place is the unmistakable body of Nico Varlac.

* * *

Nico doesn’t speak. The first person he looks at is Rev. She’s the one holding a warm cloth and a bandage. He looks at his hand. An angry red gash slices across the center of his palm.

“Nico?” Sam dips his head to meet his brother’s eyes. “It’s me, Sam.”

“Sam returned. Nico stayed.” Nico’s eyes dart around the room then return to Rev. “Beautiful. Beautiful angel,” he mutters.

Rev’s forehead twitches, but she doesn’t frown at him. She tilts her head, then gently takes his hand, and says, “Can I help you? Is it okay if I help you?”

Nico nods and shudders. He lets Rev lead him to the table and guide him into one of the chairs. His clothes are rags, hanging off him in strips.

Quietly, as she places his hand palm-up on the table and begins to dab the wound, she says, “One of you, go to the bedroom. There are spare clothes in the closet. Take them to the bathroom for him. He’ll want a shower and to get freshened up.” She looks over her shoulder. “You might, too, Rhone.”

Mack doesn’t reply. He’s studying Nico intently.

“Nico?” Sam tries again, sliding into a seat next to his brother and putting a firm hand on his shoulder. “Do you remember? We were together. You saved me.”

“Nico stayed. Sam returned. Nico turned. Sam remained.”

Sam looks at Tanner. “He’s not making any sense. What’s wrong with him?”

“Shock, trauma, maybe more than that,” Tanner says softly. “But he remembers you. He found you. Give him a chance to—”