Black Dog Short Stories (11 page)

     “You let this young stray live. Was that your decision to make?”

     Thaddeus moved his shoulders, not knowing what he should say, what the Master wanted to hear. “I . . . didn’t want to kill him.”

     “I see.”  Grayson looked at him thoughtfully. “You tracked this pup to his home, I gather. Good. Tell me where he lives.”

     A direct order. That wasn’t good. Yeah, no, that was bad. Thaddeus didn’t look away, but he wanted to. He let his breath out slowly and shook his head, deliberately, once, back and forth.

     “Indeed,” said Grayson. “Defiance, Williams?” 

     Thaddeus didn’t answer. It didn’t seem necessary. Silence was answer enough.

     The Master walked forward. He hadn’t shifted, not yet, but his shadow gathered tightly around and below him, so heavy Thaddeus could almost see it as a separate presence.

     Thaddeus took a step back before he even knew he’d moved. Then he caught himself and stopped. Then he asked himself what the hell he was trying to prove, and just how stupid he had to be. He knew exactly what DeAnn would say, if she was here—he could almost hear her: 
Thad, you idiot, what the
hell
are you trying to prove?
If he got himself killed because he was too proud to submit to the Master of Dimilioc, she would be
pissed
.

     So then he dropped to one knee and turned his face aside, and the Master came close and set one hand on his shoulder, close by his neck—a threat; razor-edged claws tipping suddenly blunt fingers,
deadly
threat, he could tear out Thaddeus’s throat and there was nothing Thaddeus could do to stop him. The Master lifted his other hand toward Thaddeus’s face, toward his eyes, and Thaddeus found his Beast surging furiously upward, pressing hard, sure the Master was going to kill him right here and now, and for something so
stupid
—

     “No,” said the Master. Somehow that one quiet word echoed with more force than a shout; it seemed to strike Thaddeus like a physical blow. The Master was watching Thaddeus intently, but with very little of the furious heat of the black dog in his dark eyes. He said, still quietly, “Don’t let it rise. Hear me?”

     Thaddeus set his jaw and fought his Beast. It was like wrapping your arms around a great big old grizzly and trying to haul it backward while it snarled and shoved forward—it was like trying to drag that big old grizzly back while you were
drowning
—not in water, but in heat and fury—his grip was slipping, and if the Beast got loose now, either he was going to kill Grayson or else the Dimilioc Master was going to kill him—better than just cowering down like a beaten pup and letting the Master tear out his throat without even a fight—no, that was the Beast, that hot rage, but he couldn’t hold it—

     The Master’s shadow rolled forward, heavy but fast, smothering, irresistible.

     Thaddeus found himself breathing hard, his Beast flattened beneath the Master’s power. He could think again. He could understand just how close he had come to losing control. And just how disastrous that would have been for him, maybe for DeAnn—maybe for Conway, too. He made an effort to steady his breathing and looked up, warily, trying to gauge Grayson Lanning’s temper and guess what the Master might do.

     Grayson said calmly, “Again. This time, I want you to get your shadow down without my help.”

     Thaddeus started to say that now he
had
control, that his Beast wasn’t going to get away from him a second time, that if Grayson hadn’t pushed him so hard he wouldn’t have lost control of it in the first place. But the Master gripped his shoulder again, held him hard, and ripped claws unexpectedly across his chest, right through muscle and bone.

    
That
brought the Beast. It roared up, terrified and enraged, taking the injury almost before Thaddeus was aware of the brutal pain. He found himself almost fully shifted, on the other side of the room, shaking blood and ichor from his pelt, a heavy bass growl vibrating in his chest.

     Grayson had not shifted. He stood still, in human form, studying Thaddeus with a calm detachment that would have made even the stupidest black dog wary. He said, “Yes. Now put it back down.” 

     Thaddeus glared at him, trying to make sense of this command.

     “Put it
down
,” snapped Grayson impatiently.

     Down. The Beast should go down, because letting it up was bad. Letting it up to fight Grayson Lanning was very bad, though for a long moment Thaddeus did not remember why. DeAnn. Yes. Conway, who needed his father. Yes. He knew that.

     But it would be so much easier to tear Grayson Lanning into little pieces. The Master still had not shifted. Little and human and vulnerable . . . except he was the Dimilioc Master. Not vulnerable at all.

     He could roll Thaddeus’s Beast down and under. He could do that. But he wouldn’t. Because Thaddeus was supposed to force his beast down by himself. Some kind of fucking test or something, who knew what, some damn thing that seemed like a good idea to Grayson. Sadistic bastard. Thaddeus was furious, a fury that fed on and from his Beast’s rage. He snarled, low and grating, longing to frighten Grayson, but the Master’s eyes only narrowed slightly; he didn’t look at all frightened. Not even concerned, damn him. Except it was also something to cling to, that lack of fear. Because no black dog wanted to attack another who looked that fearless.

     Thaddeus dragged at his Beast. Dragged at it, struck up through it like a drowning man striking up from the depths of a rolling sea, pulled it down and began to shake himself free of it. He got partway shifted, but Grayson took one step toward him, and Thaddeus stuck right there. Scared.
Damn
Grayson. Thaddeus snarled again and found the Beast’s snarl rising underneath his fury, and fought it. He had never been unable to control his Beast, not since the Calming. But then Grayson just stood there and looked at him with that grim patience—it was like when Ezekiel had first come to get him, just like that, and Thaddeus was upset and furious and all right, yes, scared, and he
couldn’t shift
, not if the Dimilioc Master killed him right here for his failure. Grayson might do it; kill a black dog of his who turned out to be disobedient and defiant and now completely unable to control his own Beast.

     So he tried. He caught his Beast and pulled it under with him, but it fought him furiously, completely at odds with his equally furious attempts to force it down, until its fury burned up through him and he began to slip back toward the fully shifted form.

     “
Thaddeus
,” Grayson said, like the crack of a whip.

     Thaddeus flinched, and made it back once more to his half-shifted form. And stuck, panting.

     The Dimilioc Master rolled his shadow once more. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and stood there watching Thaddeus, just as calm and impenetrable as ever. Thaddeus wanted to snarl at him, curse him, maybe both. He fixed his gaze on the floor instead and thought hard about just how easily Grayson had forced his Beast down. Attacking the Dimilioc Master would be very, very stupid. He was shaking, and tried to stop, and couldn’t.

     “Again,” said the Master. He stepped forward.

     Thaddeus flinched back. “You want me to tell you where you can find that stupid kid? Because you haven’t even asked me again, so if that’s what you want, tell me!”

     Grayson stopped. For a long moment, Thaddeus thought he wasn’t going to answer at all. But he said eventually, “You’re upset and angry, and the moon is full. It’s important to seize the chance to work on your control at such times, if you mean to gain full command of your shadow. I don’t need to
force
you to tell me what I want to know. You’ll tell me when you’ve had time to think it through.”  He paused, regarding Thaddeus thoughtfully. Then he ordered, “Tell me where that stray can be found. When you’re ready. Take your time.”  He waited.

     Thaddeus wasn’t sure he could manage to think about anything, yet. He stared at the floor between his hands. The carpet was one of those neutral colors between blue and gray. His claws had scored right through it in places, and there was a charred patch where his hands had rested. Somebody would have to pay for that. Probably Dimilioc could afford it, though.

     The shaking had passed. Thinking about the stupid carpet had helped. Thinking about anything else that had just happened . . . that didn’t help at all. Upset and angry and pushed toward the monster by the full moon, yeah, all of that. But he had proved himself unable to manage his Beast. And Grayson Lanning had done this to him on purpose. For training. For
practice
.

     And now he pushed again, damn him, to make Thaddeus answer the question he’d already refused to answer once.

     Except that wasn’t right. Because he didn’t push, did he? 
Take your time
. Right. Time to recover, to steady himself. He’d said he would force Thaddeus’s Beast up again. But he hadn’t. He didn’t. He was waiting. He wasn’t even watching Thaddeus now. He had crossed the room and stood by the window, gazing out at the night. The light of the full moon poured over him, silver and seductive, enough to pull any black dog toward the hunt and the kill. But it wasn’t only a hunter’s moon, a black dog’s moon. It was also the kind of moon the Pure loved and could use best.

     What would DeAnn say? What would she do? What would she think he should do?

     He remembered what she had said to him right after they had been brought by force, along with their little son, to Dimilioc. Thaddeus had been given the choice of joining or death.

      “Some choice,” Thaddeus had growled to her. “Grayson Lanning wants us under his eye and under his thumb. You and me both. He’ll never let us go.  The minute I don’t toe his line, he’ll kill me and do whatever he wants with you and Con. He’d kill me as soon as blink, you can see it, can’t you, and that young Korte bastard is worse.”

     And DeAnn had said, “Yeah, it’s not a choice at all, but what it is, is a chance, the best chance we’ve ever had. Because the part you’re not seeing, the part you don’t understand, Thad, is once we’re on the inside, once we’re his, Grayson Lanning won’t want to kill you. He’ll work hard to make sure he never has to. He’ll do everything in his power to make us all strong and keep us all safe.
”

    
Thaddeus hadn’t believed her. He hadn’t believed she could be right.

    
“Trust me on this,”
DeAnn had said. “That’s how he is. I can tell.”

    
So he had trusted her, and she had been right after all. Right about Grayson Lanning, and right that Thaddeus hadn’t been able to see it. Not till they’d stepped inside Dimilioc. Then everything had changed. Eventually Thaddeus had understood that he’d been right, too:  Grayson would never let them go. But
not letting go
was a lot more complicated than he’d ever imagined. Now he understood it included things like taking the chance of this night to push Thaddeus to gain better control over his Beast.

     And even so, when Thaddeus had protested, he’d eased back. He’d even stopped to explain. There was also this about Grayson Lanning:  he was a hard bastard, and he would never let go of what was his, but he never, ever lost control of his Beast and he was not pointlessly cruel.

     Thaddeus said, not really knowing he was going to say this till the words were out, “Just west of where we separated. Big apartment building. Green banner with three Chinese characters up the front of the building. Third floor apartment. He said his name was Lee, but probably he was lying about that.”

     Grayson had turned and stood now with the moon at his back, his face in shadow, utterly unreadable. “No doubt. But I imagine that would enough to find him. Why did you tell me?”

     Thaddeus bowed his head. “Because you’re the Dimilioc Master.”

     “I’m the Dimilioc Master, and I’ll punish you if you defy me?”

     “No,” said Thaddeus. “You’re the Dimilioc Master, so I tell you I let the kid go, and you decide what you want to do about that.”  He waited.

     “Good,” said Grayson. “What led to this epiphany?”

     Thaddeus glared at him, grabbed hard hold of his temper, and lowered his gaze. “You said think it through. I thought it through.”

     To Thaddeus’s relief, Grayson gave a small nod to this. He said, “Very well. Good. You’re far less upset. That should make it easier to control your shadow. So. Are you ready to try this again?”

     Thaddeus let out a slow breath. “Yeah. Wait. What about the kid?”

     Grayson, who had moved forward a step, stopped. “The matter does not seem urgent. In a year or two, if your young stray proves annoying, we can kill him then. Or if he remembers your invitation and appears at Dimilioc’s doorstep, we can consider whether he might prove an asset.”

     This was a lot better than Thaddeus had expected. And yet in another way, it didn’t surprise him at all. He nodded, and rubbed a hand across his mouth, and then got slowly to his feet. “We’re going to . . . go another round?”

     “Yes.”