Guardian Hound (21 page)

“What?” Virmal asked.

Harita turned on him. “I've seen the cruelty of the clan. It isn't natural. They're infested, Virmal. This is our chance to help them all.”

“No,” Virmal said. “I forbid it.”

Harita's
merry laughter filled the room. “Has that ever worked? You saying that?”

“No,” Virmal said, begrudgingly. “But it's dangerous.”

“And more dangerous if we don't fight—am I right, Prince Lukas?” Harita said, looking at Lukas.

“Yes,” Lukas said. She wasn't part of the knight. There was nothing in her scent that was part of that vision. But Virmal needed her. He wasn't complete without her.

“Don't worry. I'll protect you from the vicious shadows,” Harita promised Virmal.

“How?” Rudi asked. “I know the shadows exist. I've
seen
them. I can scent them, even just a trace of them. And yet, too much exposure to the shadows had even me questioning if Lukas was right.” He turned and looked at Lukas. “I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you about that yesterday. At the castle.”

Lukas nodded. “It's all right.” But it worried him that even Rudi with his natural protection against magic had been affected.

Harita shook her head. “Even at the tiger temple, they weren't able to affect my mind or my behavior.”

“That's because you're too good,” Virmal said, teasing. “Miss Innocent and Pure.”

Harita rolled her eyes.

Lukas, however, knew what Virmal meant. Harita
was
good, and there
was
something pure about her.

“So you'll join us, when the time for the battle draws near?” Lukas asked Virmal. Then he added, “Both of you.”

“We will,” Harita said, stepping forward.

Virmal grudgingly nodded and stood beside his sister.

“Thank you,” Lukas said.

Virmal finally smiled at him. “One thing you need to learn about Indians: When they say
no
, it's actually just the start of the negotiations.”

“Hopefully you won't say no to our next request,” Rudi said, drawing closer.

Virmal just looked at him, coolly.

“We'd like more of your pickled vegetables. And anything else that you've used to help keep you safe against the shadows,” Rudi said. He turned to Lukas and simply said, “Greta.”

“My sister is infected with the shadows,” Lukas said, the words tumbling out.

“Of course,” Virmal said, instantly.

Harita nodded. “Anything you need.” She glanced at her brother and they shared a smile that was all about family and clan.

“Thank you,” Lukas added. “For everything.”

He didn't know if he could save Greta, but at least now he felt like he had something he could try.

# # #

Lukas marched directly into Greta's lab. Harita followed, carrying over a dozen jar of pickles, Virmal's entire supply. He promised more the following week.

The stench of shadows overwhelmed the fresh earth and plant smells, the bitter chemical smells of magic, and the modern chemicals themselves. Lukas carried an open jar of pickles. The clean mint couldn't overcome the sludge of the shadows, but still, Lukas was hopeful.

Greta still sat in her lab, still in her white coat, her curls still perfect and her eyes still glazed. She stood and walked to her side of the dividing tables. “What's that?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Try one,” Lukas said, pushing the open jar across the table toward her.

“No, thank you. I don't like pickles,” Greta said primly.

“These will help your experiments,” Lukas promised. He reached into the jar and pulled out a carrot, then ate it himself while Greta watched with large, blank eyes. “You should try one.”

“What is she doing?” Greta said, finally tearing her eyes away from Lukas to watch Harita. The young Indian woman walked from shelf to the next, placing open jars of pickles, then shuddering as she removed the tainted charms, dropping them into jars with just brine.

“Harita, this is my sister, Greta,” Lukas said.

“Hello,” Harita said, her accent pure and her German flawless. “I'm a medical student, here to take care of your grandmother.” She continued her work, first down one side of the room, then up the other.

“Nice to meet you.” Greta turned to Lukas. “Are you going to tell me what you're doing?”

“You really should try one of these,” Lukas said. He fished out a baby cucumber from the open jar between them.

Greta wrinkled her nose, but finally took it. “Pickles?”

“Preservative,” Harita explained. “You're doing growing experiments, right?”

“Yes,” Greta said. She seemed to relax. “And you're a healer? You understand these things?”

“I try,” Harita said modestly. “Growing and preserving, and healing, are all related.”

Lukas watched with interest as Greta finally took a bite. The loud crunching filled the quiet lab. Greta seemed puzzled, her head twisting to one side, then the other. “What are these?” she asked again.

“They're preserved vegetables,” Harita said, coming over to stand next to Lukas. “Extending the life of fresh, growing things,” she added.

Lukas handed Greta another pickle. “They're good, aren't they?”

Greta nodded, still puzzled. But she ate it, as well as the rest of the jar.

The shadows didn't suddenly flow away from his sister, and her scent didn't suddenly change. However, she did look more human, her eyes growing softer, less doll-like.

“I think that you should experiment with preserving, not just growing,” Harita said. “I could help you, while I'm here.”

“I could use the help in the lab,” Greta said grudgingly. “None of the lab attendants ever want to stay,” she complained.

“Maybe you'll be able to preserve some now,” Lukas told her.

Greta nodded, and blinked, straightening up again, her voice growing more harsh and chipped. “It is good to see you, brother,” she said.

“And you,” Lukas said. He wondered if her soul wandered like his had when Oma had first cursed him, returning only for a few moments at a time.

With
Harita's
help, hopefully Greta's soul could come all the way back, like his had.

# # #

“How soon can you get us to Seattle?” Lukas asked as soon as he said goodbye to Peter and Sally on Skype. He got up out of the hotel desk chair and strode to the kitchenette in the suite. Rudi had coffee going, of course, though he complained about how it wasn't as good as Seattle coffee.

Rudi was already working his magic on his phone, the only real magic Lukas knew he had. “Noon, tomorrow,” Rudi said distracted.

Lukas nodded, though he knew Rudi didn't see him. It was so great about the mystics. Most clans had some foresight ability, but the vipers were best known for it. And they knew about him! The hound prince. That meant he allies among the viper warriors.

Surely it was time for the great battle.

“We'll have to bring Virmal and Harita,” Lukas warned. He regretted having to take Harita away from Oma, but he needed her more.

Rudi nodded. “Already on it.”

“And then…” Lukas sighed. He didn't know what to do next, what they would do, this disparate collection that made up his knight.

Sally and Peter hadn't been able to find the viper warrior again before they left Tulum and returned to Wyoming. Lukas hoped they didn't need him, that he'd already paid his part by making the shadows physical.

Physical! That had always been Lukas' problem, in his nightmares, fighting mere clouds. Now that the viper warrior had made the shadows corporeal, Lukas and the other warriors would surely be able to destroy the shadows for good.

When Rudi looked up from his phone, Lukas continued his thoughts out loud. “We have a raven, tiger, and crocodile warrior,” he said, then paused. “I need to get them together, to see if that's all we need.” He'd recognize the knight by their combined scents. “Hopefully that's everyone, and I don't need to find a warrior from every clan, like a viper, a boar, and a hound.”

Rudi frowned, his gray eyes troubled. “What do you mean, maybe find a hound warrior? You're a hound warrior.”

Lukas shook his head, the old disappointment pressing against his chest like a solid fist. “I'm not part of the knight. Oma was always clear on that. I just gather the warriors together.” He looked down at his hands, laced together and squeezing tightly, one against the other. It was all right. The knight destroying the shadows was enough. It had to be enough.

“My prince,” Rudi said softly.

Lukas reluctantly looked up.

“You talk about the knight. And his sword. And occasionally about his battles. But how do you know?”

“I watch,” Lukas said.

“But how?” Rudi insisted.

Hope flooded through Lukas, like the sun breaking through a cloudy Seattle day. “I watch as the knight's hound.”

“So maybe Oma was right. You aren't part of the knight. You play a more important role. His faithful companion. His hound.”

Lukas nodded. He couldn't help himself—he reached out and gave Rudi a quick hug.

He'd been so certain his role was almost over.

But maybe, maybe, he could play a part still.

# # #

Lukas stepped across the threshold of their Seattle house, then paused and took a deep breath, taking in the scents of home.

This was home, really. Not the cold stone and delightful grasses of the castle in Germany. He knew he should feel more sad about leaving Da and Greta, but he just felt relieved. The acidic metallic scent of all of Rudi's computer equipment; the rich, wet dirt of Seattle's spring; the comforting, lingering smell of the bacon that Rudi cooked every morning: These were home.

So many scents of home involved the man standing next to him. Lukas didn't know what he'd do when Rudi decided it was time to move again. Lukas desperately wanted to stay, to settle here, in this city and into his human life. Sally and Peter wouldn't always be here, but they'd come back. They'd help him, even if Rudi left.

“Good to be home, eh?” Rudi asked, his smile echoing the joy Lukas felt. “You hungry?” he asked, shedding his coat and hanging up Lukas' as well.

“Always,” Lukas said truthfully. And he was. He didn't know human boys ate so much. It was like his legs were hollow in addition to his stomach. There was no place else for all that food to disappear into.

“It won't last forever,” Rudi assured Lukas, leading him into the kitchen. “You'll stop growing eventually, and it won't feel as though you're starving all the time.”

“But when?” Lukas whined as his stomach growled again. Just the mention or promise of food set him on edge.

“Soon,” Rudi said with a grin. “So what do we do next?” he asked quietly as he got frozen hamburger patties out, then chucked an apple toward Lukas.

“First, this afternoon, we meet with everyone,” Lukas said. He bit greedily into the apple, the sweet juice trickling down his throat. “Then tonight, we'll gather. Outside. At Miller's Park.”

“Why there?” Rudi asked as he started grilling the patties.

“It's wide open,” Lukas explained. “There are houses near by, but not too close. The sports lights on the field will keep it bright, make it easier to see the shadows. You can hack those, right?”

“I'll figure something out,” Rudi said dryly.

“Good,” Lukas said, devouring the rest of the apple, core and all. “Thanks,” he added. He could never thank Rudi enough, for everything.

“Will the shadows come?” Rudi asked as he flipped the patties.

“They'll come,” Lukas said grimly. They had to come. It had to be time.

 

United States, Present Day

Ariel

Ariel followed her nose through the forest. She stopped to root mushrooms out of springy moss at the base of a granddaddy oak, then a second time for sweet sage hidden in a raft of mint.

Back at the campsite, she quickly cleaned and prepared her finds. She made a simple dinner of dried eggs with the mushrooms and spices, bacon, and campfire biscuits fried in the leftover grease.

If there had been campers on either side of her, Ariel would have shared her bounty. She got awful lonesome sometimes, particularly since she was living cheap this ride. But it was mid-week in the middle-of-nowhere Nevada, and still early enough in the spring that the wind cut straight through her dreadlocks, sending goose pimples all across her skull. Her bike leathers kept her from the worst of it, though.

Passing trucks on the nearby interstate kept Ariel company as she wiped down her cast iron and cleaned up her dishes. The fire burned down, but she didn't need no light; she could see just fine in the dark, like all the boar clan.

Except—it was darker some places than others.

Ariel sniffed the air, but didn't smell any smoke besides what was coming from her fire.

When the wind gusted, the dark patches didn't shred or blow away, but waved through the breeze like scum on a pond.

Ariel picked up one of the burning logs from the fire and, using the business end of it, poked at one of the shadows. When it didn't react, she slashed through it.

Shadows burst out around her. They stank of weeds rotting in long-dead swamps. They bore down on her, pressing in on all sides of her, like a dirt tunnel collapsing in on her, burying her in darkness.

Ariel struggled to breathe without taking their stink into her soul. She flung out her arms, trying to strike at the shadows, but they had no form, nothing she could punch or fight against.

Stupid bastards. Ariel forced herself to swirl, drawing the burning log closer, hoping to burn them away.

Still the shadows attacked. Ariel called on
Gret
, her boar soul, and transformed into a warrior. Wicked tusks shot out of her elongated jaw, her fingers grew into strong, knife-sharp hooves, and a thick hairy coat of armor covered her forehead, arms, and chest. She roared her displeasure, taking her enemy's scent in fully, seeking weaknesses.

There. Where two of the shadows were loosely joined. Something agitated them about that connection, like a graft spot where two trees grew together.

Ariel stampeded to the spot, slashing wildly with her impromptu sword, the log flaring as she slashed through the air.

Only
Gret's
quick reflexes saved her leathers from the acid that spilled out from the shadow on her left.

What the hell?

It sped away and the other shadows attacked, flinging their filth into her face, pressing so hard against her chest it was difficult to breathe.

Ariel fought with all the fierceness of her kind, wild with rage and war.

The shadows changed tactics, and tried to distract Ariel, showing her an escape into the darkest part of the woods where she knew more acid-spitting shadows lay. Then they whispered that she needed another weapon and must draw closer to the fire.

A quick look told Ariel that the damn shadows had blurred the edges of her fire. If she'd followed their suggestion blindly, she would have walked directly into the flames.

Ariel snorted and laughed at the shadows. Their tricks might work with those who was weak-minded, but she was of the earth. They couldn't fool
her
.

The shadows drew back after that. Ariel sensed their surprise. She pushed her attack, sticking her burning log through every stinking patch of darkness. They huddled in a single sickening mass, no longer striking back. Finally, they fell in on themselves, disappearing like the Cheshire cat, a little bit at a time, ‘til only their stench remained.

Ariel slashed through the air where they'd been, but there was nothing left to burn. Then she rushed to her fire and built it up, sending the flames high into the night. It wouldn't help with the shadows who'd attacked her, but it made both her and
Gret
feel better.

Then she sat, huddled in her leathers and blankets, awake and waiting for the dawn, while she wondered what the hell had just happened.

# # #

Ariel opened up the throttle on her bike until she crested a nice 70 miles per hour as she cruised down the interstate. The sunshine and brilliantly clear skies made her happy, even if it was still too damn cold.

The Wyoming landscape looked as abandoned as the moon, wide open and flat, with mainly gray rock. A hill sloped before her, the highway like a white ribbon curling up its side.

A black patch lay in wait on the side of the road. At first, Ariel thought it was some kind of burn mark, maybe from a car explosion or truck fire.

As she drew closer, though, she realized it wasn't on the ground. No, it was a cloud that rose several feet in the air.

Damn shadows were getting ready to attack her again.

There wasn't anything Ariel could do to get away—she wasn't about to drive into oncoming traffic, and hell if she was going to do a U-turn and run away.

Instead, she gunned it, swinging into the far lane,
torquing
her wrist as she pushed forward on the accelerator.

Ariel slammed through the edges of the black cloud. They tore at her, like a sticky web, spreading across her visor as if she'd driven through a spray of rancid oil. Where the shadows wrapped around her torso and arms, they wiggled like giant worms, trying to find a way through her leathers to pollute her skin.

The stench of mold and decay wafted up under her helmet, making Ariel gag. She shuddered, but didn't dare reach up to wipe the shadows away. Instead, she rode faster, trying to whip the shadows off with the wind.

She cheered when a glob flew off her chest and struck a green sedan as she passed. Only a few shadows remained on her, distracting, casting illusions across the road, like cracks in the concrete and cars that weren't there. Ariel refused to slow down. Hell if she was going to let them confuse her, or make her crash.

A roaring beside Ariel made her start. The car she'd passed, the green sedan, was suddenly edging closer.

The interior of the car boiled with shadows. The driver clawed at his face, his mouth open, howling silent screams. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going; the shadows were probably confusing him, and the idiot was about to drive her off the road.

Ariel gunned it again, cursing her hog of a bike: It wasn't a racer, wasn't built for speed.

The car bumper kissed her wheel guard, and Ariel's bike wobbled hard. She made herself breathe as everything slowed down and she fought to keep the bike upright.

But then the car clipped her again, and Ariel felt herself going down. She held on as long as she could, keeping the bike upright before it started sliding, then she let go, tumbling like a rock rolling down a cliff. The bike skittered away, twirling as it scraped across the road.

Finally, Ariel came to a halt. At least she'd rolled the right way, off the edge of the highway and not into oncoming traffic.

Stupid shadows. She was going to kill them all, if she could get her hands on them.

The car came to a screeching halt behind her, and the driver flew out of the window.

Literally. Flew.

Driver had been a damn raven.

Figured it was the stupid birds who'd be confused by the shadows. Never trust a raven, that's what her ma had always said.

Ariel grunted as she pushed herself to sitting. God, she was going to be bruised everywhere. At least her leathers had saved her from most of the road rash. They were torn up and abraded, but better them than her skin.

The act of reaching up to remove her helmet told Ariel that she was even more hurt than she'd realized. Shit. Still, she made herself reach up, lift her helmet off.

The faceplate was cracked, and the helmet itself had taken quite a beating. No wonder her head hurt like it had been pounded on the pavement: It had been.

The smart thing would have been to stay laying on the side of the road until help came.

But no help had ever come for Ariel in the past. She'd been on her own for too damn long to count on anything or anyone.

Stiffly, Ariel forced herself up to her feet. She swayed, and the bright landscaped dimmed for a moment. Then Ariel made herself stand up taller and take small, shuffling steps to her bike.

She knew the food in her panniers was toast, squished beyond recognition. But she was suddenly so thirsty. She needed water, now. She paused, making sure it was what
she
wanted, that the shadows weren't trying to trick her. But they'd blown away, or maybe flown away with the damn bird.

Every single muscle along Ariel's sides screamed at her as she walked. She stubbornly kept at it, though, pulling off her gloves as she finally reached her poor fallen hog. She tried to squat down, but instead, fell awkwardly on her knees, crying out at the pain. Luckily, she found her water bottle intact, and ended up only spilling a little of it as she guzzled it.

Ariel sat for a moment after she finally quenched her thirst, wondering what she should do next. She didn't know how far the nearest town was. And she had to get going, she knew. That damn raven was sure to return soon, probably still confused, and would attack her again.

And speak of the devil—a black jeep was slowly crossing the median, then across the near lanes, coming straight for the wreck.

Ariel pulled herself upright, drawing
Gret
closer. She'd fight if she had to, tear the damn birds to pieces with claws and tusks.

A tall young man with light-colored hair artfully messed and wearing a padded plaid red-and-white jacket, hat, jeans, and hiking boots sprang from the jeep.

Just behind him stood another man, almost like a second person, wearing a great cloak made of raven feathers.

Another damn bird.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he came running over.

“Stay away from me,” Ariel commanded.

The young man stopped immediately. “I'm not going to hurt you,” he said.

Ariel snorted. “Yeah, you and your partner who was driving the car want to be my best buddies, right?” she asked. “Damn ravens.”

“You're from the clans,” the man said, looking shocked.

“That's right. Y'all can't see us anymore, can you?” Ariel said, feeling a little better.

The man shook his head. “No. And I'm sorry, for what it's worth.”

“Not worth a damn lot,” Ariel muttered. Exhaustion slammed into her, and though she held herself stiffly, she knew she still swayed.

“Please, let me help you. I won't hurt you,” the man said earnestly. “My name is Peter.”

“You won't mean to hurt me. But you will,” Ariel said. She hadn't meant to tell the truth, but she was so tired. “And my name's Ariel.” She wasn't about to give him her birth name, she wasn't that loopy.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked.

“What do you think happened here?” Ariel asked, indicating her fallen bike, the green sedan resting peacefully just up the road.

Peter raised his nose and sniffed the air, his eyes growing raven black. “Shadows,” he squawked. “Attacked. Both you and the car.”

Ariel blinked, surprised. “You know about those damn shadows?”

Peter shook his head, coming all the way back to human. “Yes,” he said. “But why did they attack Kyle that way?”

“They weren't attacking Kyle. Or rather, they were trying to get Kyle to drive over me,” Ariel said. “They first attacked me last night,” she admitted. She shivered, swaying again. Damn it, she was tired.

Peter stared at her hard, as if trying to see all the way through her. “You need to come with me,” he said slowly. “Back to Seattle. There's a battle coming. Us versus the shadows.”

“Why would I want to be part of your battle, birdman?” Ariel asked. She didn't want to be involved in anything like this. She expected him to point out that she was already part of it, that she didn't have a choice.

Instead, Peter gave a cawing laugh and said, “Revenge. Don't you want a chance to destroy the shadows?”

Ariel wanted to be angry, but instead, she had to laugh.

Damn raven was right. She'd join him just for that.