Guardian Hound (16 page)

And Betty couldn't do it. Her magic wasn't strong enough.

Mother was right.

If her cousins were dead, it was all Betty's fault.

# # #

That night, Betty kept vigil with her parents. Father sent a few scouts into the city, mapping out the worst of the fighting but not engaging.

His superiors had been very clear about that: The British forces weren't to engage. Not yet.

They sat on the veranda overlooking the gardens, the night wrapped around them, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

Betty told her parents of the incident in the market. Father directed his spies there, but they found nothing.

The sounds of fighting in the far distance died as the false dawn crept in. Smoke and tears joined the other scents, the jasmine mingled with fear, hot, coppery blood with the roses.

Mother tried her finding spell again as soon as it was light enough. The blocking spell was gone. The lure flew freely around the still-tented room.

However, it landed upside down.

The fear that had settled in Betty's gut rose up again, making her feel sick.

“Just past the market,” Mother hissed, giving directions. “Quickly.”

Then she took Betty's hand and returned to the veranda, waiting.

The normal sounds of soldiers returned: muttered conversations, the clank of boots on concrete, shifting sounds of metal and uniforms. Cook had fixed porridge for breakfast, but both Betty and Mother had let it sit, not even tasting it.

Dread clenched Betty's stomach. She told herself that the lure may have found clothing or bags belonging to her cousins. That was why it had landed upside down.

Not that it had found bodies.

Mother looked up when the Jeep returned. How she heard the single engine and identified it, Betty couldn't be sure. Her own magic wasn't strong enough. She could only follow Mother from the veranda.

One long wooden stretcher lay across the hood of the Jeep, while a second across the back. Even as they entered the courtyard Betty knew they were merely corpses, not her cousins.

Mother gave a great tiger howl. Betty joined in.

Other women in the compound—natives—joined in their cry of grief, shattering all the activity around them, the soldiers freezing as the sound undulated.

The girls hadn't been desecrated, at least not physically. No, it was much worse. They stank of putrid herbs and foul rites.

The damn native
dhayana
had stolen their tiger souls.

“Mother—” Betty said, horrified.

“We will deal with this,” Mother said, her voice like iron.

The tiger clan would get revenge on the witch.

Hurt one, hurt all
…a recitation Betty was truly grateful for.

# # #

That night, the shadows brought a different dream. Betty strolled through the rows at a country fair in a mythical England, bright and green with soft air filled with the scents of new grass, spring tulips, and daffodils. She wore an old-fashioned frock made from frilly white lace that swept down to the ground, with matching white gloves and a pillbox hat.

Crowds of people stood in the distance, but whenever Betty approached them, they moved to the next spot, so when Betty arrived where they'd been, it was deserted. She knew they'd been there, however, because of the debris they'd left behind: half-eaten candied apples, torn tickets and wrappers, nuts and dried fruits stepped on and pushed into the soft ground, even a lone, gray silk glove.

Betty walked slowly past the carnival stages. One had a guessing game about the number of rusty horseshoe nails in a glass jar big enough to hold a person's head. Another had a hoop-throwing game, where customers paid to throw brightly colored bracelets over wooden pins and win silly stuffed toys.

Then Betty came to the row of freak shows: the ancient blond man who had wings instead of arms; the fat female boar who rode a tricycle in erratic circles on the small stage; the ugly tattooed man with a huge, flat head and the eyes and tongue of a snake; the pathetic dog boy; and a scary Asian woman with a long snout and scales instead of skin.

The last stage held a mighty tiger who struggled against the shadows that had pinned down all four of her paws as well as wrapped around her muzzle so she couldn't pace or roar.

Betty leaped up on the stage easily, despite her long skirt. She plucked the shadows from the tiger. They stretched like taffy, then snapped up, wrapping around her hands and wrists. However, they didn't weigh her down like they had the tiger. Instead, they seeped into her skin, down to her bones, spreading along them and making them like steel.

The shadows also wormed their way into the base of her spine, where her magic pooled, expanding it and thickening it, making it more like molasses than black wine.

Betty shook with the changes, surprised that her frock still fit as she felt her insides grow and expand, her skin growing tight.

The tiger gave a loud roar, startling Betty, making her look up and see that the tiger stared at her with the dead eyes of her cousins.

“I'm so sorry I couldn't save you,” Betty said, reaching out and patting the stiff, matted fur. “I'm so sorry.”

Next time, though, with the help of the shadows, she would be strong enough.

# # #

Betty was still tired from no sleep the night before. However, she perked up when one of the guard announced their American visitor had finally arrived.

Mother went to greet him and walk with him to the morning room, while Betty went to the kitchen to order tea. Then Betty followed the servant back up, pausing at the threshold.

The visitor looked quite plain, almost like a native. He wore a common cotton tunic and pants, but he wasn't an Indian; he wore his black hair long, to his shoulders, and his dark skin had a red tint to it. His face was broad and somehow familiar.

When he turned his black eyes to Betty, she hid her surprise.

He looked like the snake man from her dream.

Not only that, she could tell he was from the viper clan. A shadow creature imposed itself over his face, with scales, snake eyes, and a great golden hood. She was amazed at how clear the vision was. Before the shadows had merged with her magic, she wouldn't have seen so much, just a vague light making him seem brighter than other regular people even when he stood in the dark.

What could be so important that the clans would contact one another? After centuries of keeping apart, primarily so that no clan would ever betray a rival clan, either accidentally or on purpose like the raven clan had?

“Yes, the shadows,” he was saying as he accepted the cup of tea. “You haven't had any contact with them? You must avoid them at all costs.”

Betty froze. What did he mean? Why was the viper clan afraid of the shadows?

“I know of no shadow creatures,” Mother said. “Just the dark times we live in.”

“They are coming,” the young man insisted. “
Here.
We've foreseen it.”

“Interesting,” Mother said. “So your mystics still dream?”

The young man nodded.

Betty had heard tales of the viper clan living far away in their mountain villages where mystics spun out visions and dreams, but she'd never seen anyone from another clan. She wondered if the other tales were true: the horrible ravens and their black-hearted assassins, the stupid hounds who were so easily distracted, the chaotic boars that you never brought to a fight because you couldn't trust them not to turn against you mid-battle, the wealthy crocodiles and their hedonistic palaces.

“Oh, Betty, darling,” Mother called, beckoning her to come further into the room. “This is Gezane, from the Americas. This is Betty, my daughter.”

“Hello,” Betty said, bowing her head so she wouldn't have to come closer, wouldn't have to take his hand.

“You haven't seen any shadow things, have you?” Mother asked.

Gezane caught Betty's eye. He stared hard at her, his flattened nostrils flaring.

“No, Mother, I haven't,” Betty lied.

The shadows rose, much like her own tiger soul, giving her words weight and truth so Mother believed her.

However, Gezane knew she hadn't spoken the truth.

Betty lifted her chin in defiance. What could he possibly do about it? The shadows weren't just in her anymore. They were connected to her magic, as well as all of the tiger clan's magic.

“I see,” Gezane said softly.

“What do they do, these shadows?” Mother asked. “What should I look out for?”

“They're powerful and dangerous,” Gezane said, still looking at Betty. “They confuse the mind, and make you say or do things you normally wouldn't. They can trick you into believing things that aren't true. Long association can also make a person callous and cruel. They'll also drain you of energy and life.”

“Are they really that much of a threat?” Mother asked.

“Yes,” Gezane replied, turning his gaze from Betty. “We've foreseen that if they're allowed to grow, they'll first take over all the clans, then the human races. They'll destroy our entire world. If you ever see them, you must contact the other clans immediately. You can reach the hounds the easiest, at their court in Germany.”

Betty heard the warning he uttered: She must keep the shadows all to herself.

“Thank you,” Gezane said, standing abruptly. He glanced once again at Betty, looking as sad and pathetic as his dream counterpart. “Goodbye. Good luck.” He nodded to Mother, then walked past Betty as if he no longer saw her.

“What an odd man,” Mother said. “He didn't even finish his tea. Do you have any idea what that was about? Did your cousins ever say anything to you about the shadows?”

“No, they didn't,” Betty said easily as she sat down next to her mother.

Power worked in more than one way—and
dangerous
might only mean that the tiger clan grew stronger than all the other clans. Betty dismissed this
Gezane's
claims of the shadows taking over the world. They were just there to help her.

Betty talked with her mother of inconsequential things, distracting them both from the funeral later that day, the packing ahead of them, and the long trip back to England, where Betty would nurture the power she now carried inside of her, that was only a shadow of the greater power to come for the entire tiger clan.

Germany, Present Day

Lukas

The castle was the first thing Lukas had seen that looked the same as when he'd been a boy: clean gray stone looming over him up to the toothy edge of the roof; pretty leaded-glass windows glinted in the afternoon sunlight; endless green grass and formal gardens spread before the building like the sea.

However, the whole place reeked of shadows.

Rudi stood beside Lukas as they paused on the perfectly maintained lawn, marveling at the manicured trees, taking in the scents of home: the sweet flowers, the many hounds all gathered together, the ancient stone.

Lukas did, but didn't, want to walk into the castle. It wasn't home, and hadn't been for a very long time. What would he say to Da, Mama, and Greta? Let alone how to confront Oma.

Before Lukas could walk forward, the wide wooden doors flung open and out rushed Da. His hair was still black like Lukas', with only the temples gone gray. His eyes were the same brilliant blue that Lukas saw in the mirror. Lukas recognized the dark business suit his father wore, as well as the ruby red tie.

Without a word, Da ran directly up to Lukas, throwing his arms around him in a tight hug.

“It's true,” Da said, his voice breaking. “It's true. You're here. Human.”

All Lukas could do was nod. He held on just as tightly. No words could make it through his crush of emotions, the shock of seeing his father alive but old—so much older, so much smaller.

Da pulled back a little, reaching up to cup Lukas' face. “You're here,” he said, repeating himself, as if he didn't know what else to say.

Through his tears, Lukas was able to smile. “Yes. It's me. I'm here.”

“What happened? Where have you been?” Da looked between Lukas and Rudi. “Did you find my son?”

“He helped me break the curse,” Lukas said. They'd agreed to hide Rudi's part in the kidnapping. The consequences were too dire.

Rudi had never said there had been a huge search for Lukas. Rudi had always assumed that they knew Lukas was alive and well, just not exactly where he was. That's what Oma had told him.

However, given the way Da was acting, they hadn't known.

Lukas vowed to protect Rudi every way he could.

“Curse? You were cursed?” Da asked. He dropped his hands from Lukas' face and stepped back.

Lukas stopped himself from telling his father that he wasn't unclean or contagious. Instead, he merely said, “Yes. Cursed with shadows. That's why I couldn't change back.”

“Shadows? Nonsense. Your grandmother's always talking about shadows.”

Lukas rocked back on his heels, stung. “Really, Da?” he fumed. “I was stuck in hound form for ten years because of the shadows. They are not nonsense.”

“Of course not,” Da said. At least he had the grace to look embarrassed. “I didn't mean to imply—it's just, I can't see them,” Da whined.

“I know. I don't think any sight hound can sense them. Just the scent hounds,” Lukas said, nodding toward Rudi.

Da cocked his head to the side and stared at Lukas. “You're not a scent hound.”

“No.” Lukas took a deep breath, filling himself with the warm, sweet smell of his father. It was going to be all right. He wiggled his toes in his new, painful shoes and made himself continue.

The time for secrets was over.

“I'm a guardian hound, Da. Part scent, part sight, and part guard.”

“I don't think I've heard of that breed before,” Da said thoughtfully.

“We're rare,” Lukas assured him with a smile. Maybe Da would at least believe that part of his story.

“But—cursed. You said you were cursed,” Da said, circling back like a hound on a scent.

“Yes,” Lukas said, what little comfort he'd had disappearing faster than a trail in the Seattle rain. “It was Oma. Grandma.”

All the color drained out of
Da's
face. Lukas put a hand out toward him, ready to catch him.

“She went into a sudden coma. Three days ago,” Da said softly. He still looked like he might be sick.

Lukas nodded. “When the curse was broken. It had sustained her. I want—I want to go see her.”

“Of course.” Da suddenly stepped forward and hugged Lukas again, as if he couldn't help himself. “But where have you been all these years?” Then he slipped his arm around Lukas' waist, turning them toward the castle.

More ministers stood in the doorway. Lukas knew they'd hear anything he said, so he was doubly glad he'd been careful with Rudi, who walked behind him, guarding him.

“In America,” Lukas said, sliding his arm shyly around his father's waist. It all seemed so unreal.

“Were you alone? In a pack?” Da asked.

“Rudi found me and took care of me,” Lukas admitted, preparing himself for the next blow.

“Didn't you know he was the prince?” Da asked, horrified. He stopped and stared at Rudi.

“I knew, Sire,” Rudi admitted. “Lady Metzler asked me to find him and keep him safe, away from the court.” He frowned, then stepped closer. “Sire, she told me that you knew Lukas was safe.”

Da nodded slowly. “She told us frequently, at first. But then she started losing her wits, going on and on about the shadows and other crazy things—”

“The shadows are real,” Lukas assured his father. He could scent them here. “They will attack. Soon.”

But Da looked at him blankly, and Lukas knew his words fell on unhearing ears, like seeds scattered across solid rock, with no place to root or grow.

# # #

Oma still looked solid and strong, though she lay too still on her bed, and the skin around her eyes looked dark and bruised. Her gray hair curled neatly across the soft pink pillowcase, and her elegant hands lay above the white blankets, the right one attached to three machines. The room smelled like the vinegar cleaner Rudi used, with only the faintest trace of the lavender Lukas remembered.

The hospital was an old house that had been converted, with many rooms facing the gardens. Few in the hound clan got sick enough to need hospitalization, so most of the time the place stood empty or had only one or two patients. Instead of white sterile walls and cold tile floors, it was painted a warm cream color, with spotless hardwood floors and many comfortable nooks for sitting and resting.

“The doctors say she's—she's—non-responsive,” Da stated. “There's very little brain activity, just enough that she's still living.”

Lukas nodded, walking closer. Someone had put fresh yellow roses on the stand next to
Oma's
bed, and a book,
The Popcorn Thief
, that had a bookmark three-quarters of the way through.

If Oma hadn't been so still, Lukas might have thought she was just sleeping.

Though no shadows marred her rest, and they hadn't invaded this room, Lukas still smelled their influence. Either that, or the faint smell of decay and death came from Oma herself.

“Can I talk to her for a moment?” Lukas turned and asked. It took him a moment to realize he'd automatically asked Rudi, not his father. He turned all the way and added, “Alone, please.” At least Da hadn't seemed to notice, even if Rudi had.

“Certainly,” Da said, nodding. “We'll be right outside.” He gave Rudi a strong look, and Lukas knew they'd be having words in the hall.

Before Lukas could tell them never mind, Rudi walked forward and pulled what looked like a black brick phone from his pocket. He set it on the end table, tapping a button on it once and saying, “For your privacy.” He glanced up at the corner, where Lukas noticed a round black camera stuck to the ceiling.

“Thank you,” Lukas told Rudi, though he wasn't sure it was completely necessary.

Da looked at the device suspiciously, then at Rudi, and turned to walk out.

Lukas knew he'd have to hurry. He needed to protect Rudi.

Standing next to the bed, Lukas took
Oma's
left hand. Her fingers were warm, her skin was soft, but there was no strength or life in it.

“Oma,” Lukas started, his voice hollow in the almost empty room.

She'd saved him, taught him how to hold onto secrets, then cursed him so he couldn't grow up like a normal boy.

He wanted to howl at her.

Had it been worth it? He didn't know—wouldn't know unless they defeated the shadows, and possibly not even then.

And how many others were there? Now, seeing her, he realized that she hadn't trained just him and Rudi; no, there was probably a hidden army out there, ready to leap at her every command.

“Don't die,” Lukas choked out, squeezing
Oma's
hand tightly. She had too many secrets to pass away so quickly. “You need to tell me more,” Lukas added. More about being a guardian, more about the knight, more about how to defeat the shadows. “You can't die. Not yet. Not now. Please.”

Lukas put her his grandmother's hand back on the bed, sniffing and wiping away the moisture gathered in his eyes with the back of his hand.

There was nothing else he could say, no plea that would make her do what he'd asked. He'd never been able to bend her to his will—she'd only ever bent him to hers.

She would decide whether to come back to him or not.

Even if it was just to say goodbye.

# # #

Lukas didn't have to put his ear to the door to hear his father talking with Rudi, questioning him about how Lukas had come under his protection, why Rudi hadn't returned the prince to the court. He stayed in his grandmother's sick room, waiting and listening, like Oma had taught him.

Da didn't believe Rudi, of course. No one from the court would ever trust Rudi or anyone in his family, or even from his line.

Lukas had wondered where Mama was, why he hadn't seen her. He wasn't surprised when Da had told him on the way to the hospital that she was out of the country, and it made his heart beat faster to know that she'd be there this afternoon. He had no idea what he'd say to her, either.

Then Da told Rudi that Rudi should leave after that.

Lukas realized that his father had assumed that since Lukas had returned, he was going to stay in Germany.

Yet another thing to try to clear up.

“I'm going with Rudi,” Lukas informed them both, stepping out of his grandmother's sick room and into the hall. It was cheery like the rooms, with a beautiful antique table proudly displaying pink, purple, and white petunias.

“No, you're not,” Da said firmly. “You're not going anywhere else with this man.”

“Da, you don't understand,” Lukas said softly. “It isn't because I want to go away with Rudi, or to leave you again. But there's a war coming, with the shadows. And I must gather the defenses together. Or the world will die.”

From the way his father pressed his lips together, Lukas could tell he wanted to tell Lukas yet again that the shadows were nothing.

Magic must be hiding the shadows from the sight hounds, like some sort of curse.

“Do you remember the raven clan? How after the decimation, all the clans got together and cursed the ravens, so they could never find us again?” Lukas asked.

“Yes,” Da said slowly.

“I think the shadows did the same thing to you, to the sight hounds,” Lukas said eagerly. “Which is why you can't see them, can't believe in them.”

Da looked away, thinking. Then he turned back to Lukas, his steely blue eyes blazing. “So your grandmother's been telling the truth all these years? That these shadows are here, they've infected us all?”

“Yes,” Rudi said, stepping forward. He glanced at Lukas, then back at the king. “Sire, I think some of your ministers have been infected. They've grown cruel and are no longer themselves.”

Da nodded, then said, “You know, after you left, your sister…. She changed. Grew, well, peculiar.”

Lukas' heart dropped out of his chest and burrowed far under his feet, where not even a terrier could dig it out.

“Let's go see her,” Lukas said grimly. Though he'd known home wouldn't be anything like he remembered, he'd foolishly hoped for better than this.

# # #

Lukas left Da and Rudi hovering in the hallway outside Greta's laboratory, trusting that they wouldn't kill each other and that Da wouldn't banish Rudi before Lukas came back.

It wasn't that Lukas wanted to go forward alone. The stench of shadows was so strong from beyond the door he expected to see them rolling through the air, amassed like a great cloud. He insisted that both Da and Rudi stay outside—Lukas had to minimize Rudi's exposure to them, as well as his father's.

He was supposed to be a guardian hound, after all.

The acrid smell of magic threaded through the death scent of the shadows. Plants lined the shelves on the walls, bathed in humming purple lights. Two long stainless-steel tables divided the space, front from back, side from side. Against the far wall on the counters sat microscopes, machines that spun a dozen test tubes, and other modern equipment that Lukas didn't recognize.

A tall blond woman in a white lab coat slowly rose as Lukas walked across the room, stopping at his side of the stainless steel tables.

“Greta?” he asked softly.

His oldest nightmares had come true: Not only had the shadows infected his sister, they'd turned her into a doll.

Blond curls perfectly ringed Greta's face. Her eyes were brown and expressionless, as if they'd been carved from glass. Bright red tinted her lips, forming a Cupid's bow that looked painted, not real.

“Lukas?” Greta asked, her voice as mechanical and contrived as the rest of her. She stayed on her side of the table, examining him like he was an unexpected result from an otherwise successful experiment. “Is that you?”

Lukas didn't dare touch her—he was afraid the shadows would try to infect him again. He nodded and said, “Yes. It's me. I'm here. Human again.”