But you’ve been lurking in your basement way too much lately.” “What vampire war?” Billy rolled his eyes. “Harry, look, I know this whole vampire war thing has you jumpy. Interested?” “Sounds too much like work.” Billy let out a snort.

There’s spells and demons and dragons and everything.

“We’re storming the fortress of Lord Malocchio, except we have to do it in disguise in the dead of night, so that the Council of Truth won’t know who the vigilantes who brought him down were. The old lady with the shopping cart wandered past us, the wheels of the cart squeaking and wobbling. The campaign is getting really fun.” Role-playing games. I scooped up a toad of my own and eyed him dubiously. Me and the gang were wondering if you wanted to come by this weekend, do some socializing.” –5– Whatever.” He fell into step beside me and started picking up toads as we walked across the park. Shut the hell up.” He lifted a hand in a pacifying gesture. “I don’t have the time or inclination to teach a class today. It would mean something big was going down.” “But what if-” My temper flared. Holes in the fabric of reality.” “And that would be bad?” I eyed him. But if they’re real?” “If they’re real, then it means something is out of whack.” “What kind of out of whack?” “The serious kind. I hope they are.” “Why?” “Because all that would mean is that some faerie got bored and played a trick. Made out of the material of the Nevernever and animated by magic. “They could look real and feel real, but it’s possible that they’re just constructs. I haven’t slept, I can’t remember the last time I ate a hot meal, and I’ve got a lot to do before tonight.” “But why wouldn’t they be real? They look real.” I blew out a breath and tried to keep my temper. “You think they’re not?” I squinted at him. “Why?” “So I can make sure they’re real.” Billy lifted his eyebrows. “Grab a couple of toads and pitch them in there for me.” He caught the bag and frowned. I came out with a nylon backpack and dragged a couple of small cloth sacks out of it. I’m sure someone will come along and declare it a hoax before long.” “Uh-huh.” I turned back to the Beetle and popped the hood to rummage in the forward storage compartment. “You’d think ‘it’s magic’ would be easier to swallow than that.” Billy grinned. They said that they were having tornadoes in Louisiana or something, that the storms must have thrown the toads here.” I snorted. “No, except for some meteorological guys from the university. “That’s why we called the wizard.” Patrolling. Another toad fell from the sky several feet away. “We’ve run into a lot of odd things lately when we’ve been out patrolling. “How’s the werewolf biz?” “Getting interesting,” he said. He crunched down hard as I shook his hand. “What did I tell you, Harry?” “Billy,” I responded. Now they concealed all the muscle he’d traded it in for. A year or two ago the outfit would have concealed the forty or fifty extra pounds he’d been carrying. Billy the Werewolf wore sweatpants and a plain dark T-shirt.

I looked up to see a short young man with broad shoulders and a confident walk coming toward me. Their croaking sounded vaguely like the speech-chatter of a crowded room. Every moment or so, you would hear the thump of another one landing. They didn’t carpet the ground, but you couldn’t possibly miss them. Even as I watched, several more amphibians plopped out of the sky, as though the Almighty had dropped them down a laundry chute. The sound of their croaking grew louder as I walked further into the park. I looked around me and saw other toads on the ground. It wobbled for a few moments upon hitting the ground, then let out a bleary croak and started hopping drunkenly away. Not a big one, as toads go-it could easily have sat in the palm of my hand. Something small fell past my face and onto the ground at my feet. I squinted around the park for a moment, took a couple of steps onto the grass, and got hit on the head by something damp and squishy. It wasn’t yet noon, and my sweats and T-shirt were too hot for the weather. Today it was deserted but for an old lady with a shopping cart and a long coat, tottering around the park. Even in heat like we’d had lately, the park would normally be crowded with people. Lake Meadow Park lies a bit south of Chicago’s Loop, a long sprint from Lake Michigan’s shores. I got out of the Blue Beetle, my beat-up old Volkswagen bug, and squinted against the midsummer sunlight. 285Ĭhapter 1 It rained toads the day the White Council came to town.

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