Everybody said Black Shuck was a great big fearsome devil, but I wasn't so scared the night I met him in the woods. I'd only been dead for two hours, and I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to be afraid of some old black dog curled up crying in the bushes.

The sound of his whimpering cut right through my own tears. I wiped my drippy nose as best I could, sniffled once or twice more for good measure, and followed the noise until I saw the shape of him. His whimpering was how I knew he was a dog and not a monster. His burning red eyes when he looked up were how I knew he was Black Shuck. A demon's eyes, Bloody Roger Barnaby told me later, hot as hellfire: proof that Shuck had crawled up from below to haunt these woods. I don't know about that—sometimes I think Roger Barnaby doesn't know anything about anything—but he looked like he'd crawled out of the stories, at least.