Guardian Hound (20 page)

“Do you see?” Zane intoned, the syllables sliding one into another.

“Yes.” The raven and his mate stared at the ground, at the nightmare Zane had made real.

“You will bear witness,” Zane said, knowing that through his proclamation, he would make it come true. “You will tell the hound prince. This is the new form the shadows will take. This is what comes,” he added, his words ringing like a clear bell across the hill, over the water, and through time.

“We will,” they said, falling into the
geas
laid before them.

The weight of the task laid on Zane so long ago dropped from him, like he'd shed a skin made of stone. He'd finally made things right. The hound prince would know it was time.

Zane—no, he could take his full name again, so Gezane—felt himself grow taller, stronger, as the years fell from him and he reclaimed himself. He was still old, yes, but finally just his own age. The whispering need for liquor disappeared from the back of his mind, and instead, his viper soul circled closer than ever before. The edges of the rocks and the nearby cactus grew sharper, clearer, and the wind blew across him fresh and new, smelling sweetly of hidden flowers.

Gezane had worn his own face as a mask for so long, he couldn't even imagine how he must appear now.

The raven before Gezane was still fully armed, but he also stood straighter, like a soldier, ready to be commanded.

But the mate—ah—she shone brighter still. Just a worm of a shadow had burrowed into her side and now that it was gone, she was like a beacon.

With a blink of surprise, Gezane realized that it was
she
the shadows had been after, not the boy. She was the arch stone, the only one strong enough to support them all.

“Thank you,” Gezane said with a deep bow, both to the young couple on whose untested shoulders so much now depended, as well as to the gods who had let him do his duty at last.

They bowed in return. Before they could speak, Gezane told them, “Go now. Enjoy your last day in my beautiful Tulum, won't you?”

The time to fight would come soon enough for them.

They nodded and left, heading back down the path they'd come up, with many backward glances.

Gezane folded his arms over his chest and looked out over the beautiful ocean, her sweet and salty breezes playing with what remained of his hair. Pride filled him. He'd finally done what he'd been instructed to do, so many years ago.

He'd made the shadows real.

Then he glanced down at the rotting corpulence at his feet, the darkness slipping away in the wind. He knew it wasn't dead, that it would return in the new shape he'd forced on it.

Was it enough to clear his debt? It didn't feel like enough for what he'd done.

He'd purposefully delayed the chosen messenger from his people, the one who was supposed to warn of the encroaching shadows. In
Gezane's
pride and arrogance, as well as the confusion brought by the shadows, he'd thought he could take the other's place, gaining the glory for himself and his family.

Instead, he'd missed the meeting, the one chance when the tiger clan would have been open to the message. He'd arrived a day late, and therefore had imperiled the world, the shadows growing stronger in the intervening years.

He'd hurt so many: all in his family were scorned; so many more people the shadows had corrupted because they'd been able to gain strength; the poor hound prince and the burden he'd had to carry.

No, giving his life as he had wouldn't repay his debt. But at least now, if the raven's mate proved strong enough, there was a chance the world wouldn't end in darkness.

# # #

Gezane spent the rest of the afternoon wandering, seeing Tulum with fond, fresh eyes. The markets amazed him, heaping piles of flowers, sharp spices, and racks of cheap clothes. People smiled at him as he slipped around them,
of
but not
in
the world. The sea called to him, and he dipped his hand in her, tasting her salt.

He didn't visit his rundown apartment—though he doubted anyone would recognize him, they might mistake him for a younger cousin or brother of the old drunk who had lived there, and he didn't want to accidentally endanger anyone who might be friendly to him.

The shadows would never let Gezane live after his decades-long treachery.

Still, Gezane walked down a crossroad two blocks away, letting his senses flare for only a moment. The young ones laughed as they watched secondhand cartoons given to them by the Americans. The
señora
was gone, but the scent of her burnt toast remained. The concrete from the new hotel no longer smelled wet, and underneath it lay the sweet ocean tainting the air with her salt.

As darkness stole the brilliant orange and red from the sunset, Gezane headed out of town along one of the old roads, going toward the interior. Not the new road the tourist buses drove carelessly along, no; instead, an original
sak
beh
, a white road long abandoned by the people who'd once lived there, distant relatives of
Gezane's
clan.

Even in the dark of the jungle night, Gezane could see the glittering stones of the road, reflecting the brilliant Milky Way as the humans naïvely called it.

Gezane preferred his people's name for it—the Unending Dagger—a promise not just of quick death, but peace on the other side.

The shadows formed quickly once Gezane stepped out from under the trees and into a clearing. They brushed against him, pushing him forward until a solid shape rose out of the ground.

The hissing tones reminded Gezane of the council who'd proclaimed his fate and the task they'd set him. The death-like stench rolled out from the shadow, reminding Gezane of the stinking heaps of garbage hidden from tourists south of town.

“I think you forgot to kill me,” the shadow stated, swaying and undulating before him, like silk hanging from a window.

“Can you die?” Gezane asked.

The council hadn't been sure if the shadows could be killed in their natural state.

“Of course not,” the shadow scoffed. “Still, you tried.”

“Did I?” Gezane asked, surprised at how little bitterness flowed through his veins. Like his poison, it had been drained away.

“Do not play games with me, mystic,” the shadow growled.

“Am I a mystic?” Gezane couldn't help but ask, grinning. He'd never had a vision, just cheated the one who had, tried to steal it from him.

The cold struck with the force of a blow, though all the shadow had done was tap him on the chest with a curling tendril. Sudden exhaustion made him hunch over.

“Answer true,” the shadow admonished.

Gezane caught his breath in the humid night as the touch withdrew, and drew himself upright again. He resisted reaching up to rub at the spot, but instead stayed in the game. “You don't know my clan well, do you?”

Never answer an outsider's question, except with another question
, was one of the oldest recitations of his kind.

“Why haven't you ever spoken to me like this before?” Gezane asked after the shadow had touched him again, and the clarity of the night had returned with its uncaring stars burning brilliantly above his head.

“I only now have form. Form that you gave me,” the shadow explained. “I don't believe that was your intent.”

Gezane tilted his head to one side as if considering. He waited, enjoying the loud song of the cicadas in the surrounding jungle, the warm humid air, the rotting smell of jungle mulch mingling with the wet smells of rotting corpses from the shadows, as patient as his viper soul had always wanted him to be.

He would never, ever, admit that it had always been the council's intent to give the shadows form.

“You have made me much more powerful,” the shadow claimed, finally ending the silence. It billowed out like a dust storm, filling the clearing, casting its dark form between Gezane and the stars, turning their light thin and tinny.

“Did I?” Gezane asked through rote, his features shifting, his nose flattening and his skull widening as his venom sacks filled.

The shadow laughed, sending icy shivers down
Gezane's
spine.

“I will take the light from you,” the shadow promised. “You will tell me everything, even as you forget your own name.”

“Surely you understand my nature by now?” Gezane asked, the words slithering out as his mouth made further adjustments.

“That you are false, even unto the secret smiles you give your young, never to be trusted or believed? Yes, that much we have learned.” The shadow paused, then added, “You robbed the bird's mate from us.”

“Did you really have her?” Gezane asked as he swayed, undulating like the shadow before him, as if he couldn't help himself.

“No,” the shadow admitted. “But we would have, eventually. Just as we'll have you.”

“You know what they say about the viper clan, yes?” Gezane asked, the words hard to form now with his full snake mouth, fangs extending.

“No, I don't think I've ever—”

“Beware,” Gezane interrupted, striking out lightning fast.

Nothing on earth could catch one of the viper clan, stop one of them from latching on. They moved the quickest of all the clans.

Yet, the shadow did.

“I do know you,” the shadow said as Gezane stood, stretched forward, frozen, unable to move, barely able to blink in the shadow's iron grasp. “I know I can never be prepared enough for your treachery. But such a simple attack? Really? You should know better.”

And Gezane did. He truly did. He knew how the shadows clouded his mind.

How fast had he been actually moving before he struck?

“Now we will milk you, relieve you of your poison until you are dry. Then again, and again. You will make all my followers as powerful, as corporeal, as I.”

No!
screamed Gezane, deep in his head, unable to move or make a sound.

Patience.
A calm overtook Gezane as his viper soul rose closer to the surface.

The hound prince, the ravens, they will think I helped the shadows, that I worked with them, creating more of them,
Gezane said, shuddering as the cold violated him, stroking his extended fangs, safely extracting his toxin.

Only enough
, his viper soul assured him.
There are plans within plans. Now rest. You have earned it. It is the others' time to fight.

But only because I put them in harm's way.
Now the bitterness came back, flooding Gezane again. So much time wasted. So many lives.

You were part of the problem, yes. Now, you are part of the solution. So rest.

But—

Rest.

And the world faded into endless blackness.

Germany, Present Day

Lukas

Harita and Virmal's apartment was in the old city, but wasn't old itself. It looked like it had been built in the 1960s, flat-faced, with red brick and symmetrical windows. It smelled like fake wood and glue, as well as long-boiled potatoes and fresh mud from the garden out front.

Lukas sniffed, but he couldn't find a trace of that cool green scent he'd been expecting. Maybe they had the wrong place.

Harita let them in after they buzzed. The dim and narrow hallway made Lukas hunch in on himself. He could touch the roughly textured ceiling without fully stretching his arm out. Cheap brown carpet muffled their steps to the door of the flat.

The door opened before they could knock. The parquet floor in the vestibule bore evidence of claws as well as fresh dirt. They hung their coats next to the thick parkas and heavy jackets already hanging there.

“Would you like some chai?” Harita asked, leading them into the living room. Strings of white Christmas-tree lights hung across the front window, complementing the two lamps and giving the room a warm glow. A sleek beige couch with wooden arms stretched along one wall. Brightly colored pillows were scattered across the floor.

“No, thank you,” Rudi declined.

Lukas did the same. He kept sniffing, turning the corner of the room. Just off the long, galley kitchen sat a nook. A round wooden table with four chairs took up most of it.

A young Indian man waited there, in a dark burgundy shirt and jeans. He rose gracefully and strode out to greet them. His brown eyes filled up much of his face, with only a small, upturned nose and mouth. His hair was short, just over the edge of his collar.

Lukas held out his hand first. Only when he drew closer could he scent what he was looking for, that cool hint of power, spiced with mint and cardamom.

“Virmal,” the man said, his voice deeper than his slight frame would indicate.

“Lukas,” he replied, taking another step closer.

He couldn't get over how Virmal's scent complemented the others, a sweet harmony of the glass and warm feathers from Peter, the wild-beating heart of Sally, the rich earth and strong scales of Mei Ling, and now, this strength and calm, the opposite of the chaotic shadows.

If only Lukas knew what to do when he got them all together.

“Ah, sorry,” Lukas said, shaking himself and coming back to the present day and finally dropping Virmal's warm, comforting hand.

Virmal looked suspiciously at him. Lukas immediately backed away. Damn it. He'd wanted to make a good first impression.

Rudi introduced himself, and Harita invited them to all sit around the table.

“Does your clan know anything about the shadows?” Lukas asked, seated directly across from Virmal, with Rudi on his right and Harita on his left.

“No, sorry,” Virmal replied with an educated English accent.

Harita said, “There is one old story about them.”

Virmal looked at his sister, puzzled.

“A man from the viper clan sought out one of our ancestors, warning of the shadows,” she replied.

“‘I've never heard that story,” Virmal said.

“Grandmother
Irita
told it to me, long ago,” Harita explained.

“So the viper clan knows about the shadows?” Lukas asked. Maybe he had more allies than he realized.

“They'd foreseen them, I guess? The mystics? Doesn't mean their vision ever came to true, though,” Harita pointed out.

Lukas grimaced. “It's true. The shadows are here. They'll take over the clans, then move on to the human races. They'll suck all the life out of the world. I've foreseen it as well.”

“Why are you telling us?” Virmal asked. He had drawn back in his seat.

Lukas wondered how close Virmal's tiger soul was. Hamlin pressed up against his own skin, ready to defend him if necessary. “You're part of the solution,” Lukas replied softly. “I'm starting to believe that there needs to be someone from every clan: hound, tiger, raven, boar, viper, and crocodile.”

Virmal shook his head. “Sorry, but I don't want to be part of your solution. Find someone else.”

“But—but, you have to!” Lukas replied. “It has to be you. You're part of it.”

“Nope. Wrong chap,” Virmal said.

Rudi held up his hand to stop Lukas before he said something more. “We had those marvelous pickles of yours. They're taste like the opposite of the shadows,” he said. “When did you start making those?”

“The summer I returned to New Delhi. My last year of university,” Virmal said, wariness in his voice. He turned to Harita and asked a question in a language Lukas didn't know.

Harita seemed to be trying to convince Virmal of something. Finally, he nodded, turned back toward Lukas, and continued.

“I have a cousin,
Niyati
, who wasn't the most kind,” Virmal said.

“That's an understatement,” Harita interjected.

Virmal glared at his sister. “I was young, well, younger. I'd been raised primarily in England, and I was eager to impress my relatives. So I started following
Niyati
, emulating her, even.”

Harita sighed and shook her head.

“After a long and rather extracted argument with my sister here, I finally agreed to at least cook with her on a regular basis. That's when I discovered my love of preserving things.” Virmal looked down at his hands, rubbing the palm of his left with his right thumb. “Harita urged me to follow certain recipes, more than others, and I noticed that not only did
Niyati
leave me alone when I did, so did some of my other cousins. It was a relief, to be honest, by that point. I was tired of the challenges. It was like they no longer saw me.”

Lukas caught a glimpse of the scar that Virmal rubbed. It ran from the base of his palm almost to the first finger. He could almost scent the old tears still salting the long-healed wound.

“We suspect that some of the tiger clan is already infected with the shadows,” Lukas said softly. “That it's tied to their magic.”

At that, both Virmal and Harita looked up. “We noticed something like that as well,” Harita admitted. “When Virmal came back from any of his charms or spells classes, I force fed him his pickles until he came all the way back to me.”

“The shadows are real,” Rudi said softly. “We need your help defeating them. Freeing your clan.”

Virmal stood and strode from the table to the middle of the living room, where he paced. His right hand was clasped strongly around his left wrist, and his eyes watched his feet.

Was Virmal fighting with his tiger soul? Were they snarling at each other?

Harita spoke softly. “I'm sorry, you must go now.”

“But—” Lukas sighed. Virmal just
had
to see that he was important. Essential! Lukas needed him.

“We'll go,” Rudi said, standing.

Virmal continued to pace, not even glancing at them as they walked through the long galley kitchen and back out to the vestibule.

“You must convince him that he needs to work with us,” Lukas whispered urgently to Harita after she handed him his coat. “Please.”

Harita shrugged. “He's my brother,” she said softly. “Family, clan, always comes first.”

“And saving the world comes after that?” Lukas asked as he shrugged on his coat.

“We'll be in touch,” Harita promised as she opened the door.

Out in the hallway, Lukas wanted to howl. He was so close! Hamlin pressed against his side, but it didn't help. Rudi started walking toward the exit, but Lukas wanted to stay right there, to hound Virmal until he agreed.

With a huge sigh, Lukas followed Rudi out into the cold night. The air here smelled so different than from the States. He wasn't sure what it was—maybe it was the closed-in spaces, or the age, or maybe it was just the earth speaking to him of his aborted childhood.

Lukas still wanted to just run.

“You could, you know,” Rudi said softly.

Lukas shook his head. Not yet. He couldn't, wouldn't, go back into his hound form until he absolutely had to.

Safe,
Hamlin said softly.
Trust.

Lukas bared his teeth and sucked in the cool air. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. He wanted to do…something.

“I have an idea,” Rudi said. He ran a calming hand down Lukas' back, then started back to their car.

“What is it?” Lukas barked at him, chasing after him.

“Patience,” Rudi said with a grin.

Lukas tried to take a deep breath, to relax, but he was too on edge. Ants were crawling over his skin like miniature shadows. He couldn't pay attention to where they were going; the lights were too bright outside the dark of the car, and the traffic made them slow down too often.

Finally, Rudi pulled up in front of a modern, one-story building that had only one light in the front and a small sign that Lukas couldn't read until they were closer:
Sportshalle
.

“A gym?” Lukas said. Why would Rudi bring him here?

“Want to go punch things?” Rudi asked with a toothy grin. “Learn how to fight?”

Lukas barked a laugh. He'd never had formal warrior training, but he'd watched Rudi go through the exercises twice a week.

“Yes,” Lukas replied. Though his skin felt too tight, and the world was too dark, he still couldn't help but be grateful to this man, who continued to be more of a father than Da.

# # #

Lukas woke up to the blaring sound of the alarm on his phone. He groaned, stabbed at it, then curled back under the warm duvet. He took a deep breath, his limbs loose. The darkness of the hotel room lulled him to close his eyes. He scented warm water in the air—Rudi was probably already up, showered, and working on something on his computer.

Today, Lukas would have breakfast with Mama. It would be good to see her again. If only she would stay. But she'd be gone by that afternoon. She was too broken to remain.

Then, he'd go find Virmal and make him understand just how important he was. Maybe if Lukas transformed? Mei Ling had seemed impressed with his true hound nature.

Lukas relaxed, feeling more settled into his skin than he had since the curse had been broken. Learning how to fight the previous night had been epic. While Lukas had known joy in his hound form, blocking a solid hit, or landing one, had its own vicious joy as well.

A knock on the door startled Lukas back awake. “I'm up!” he called.

“We have a visitor,” Rudi said. He smelled…worried.

That wasn't good.

Lukas was up and fumbling into clothes in a flash. That had been something Rudi had commented on: What Lukas didn't know in proper warrior forms, he could sometimes make up for in speed. His reflexes were faster than anyone Rudi had ever sparred with, and Rudi had been trained by the best of the hound guard.

It was only then Lukas smelled Virmal. Why was his scent so contained? Why hadn't it preceded Rudi? Lukas raked at his hair with his fingers, trying to get his wild curls to lay flat. He didn't want Virmal to see him like this.

But Lukas would have to pass through the living room of their suite to get to the bathroom. He tugged on a T-shirt and sweats. He didn't have time to fiddle with his clothes, change into something else.

Maybe Virmal had decided to join them, though. Even if he hadn't, Lukas could convince him. He was sure of it.

Lukas bounded out into the living room. “Hi,” he said. It was good to see Virmal. He was wearing the coolest blue shirt that set off his dark skin, as well as black trousers and finely made, black leather shoes.

“Good morning,” Virmal said, not smiling back. “I'm afraid I have bad news. I won't be joining your battle.”

“You must,” Lukas said, gently. “The fate of the world depends on it.” He could do this; he could convince Virmal.

Virmal shrugged. “That's what you've foreseen. But not every vision comes true.”

“I am a guardian hound,” Lukas told him. “My breed is rare, and only comes when there's great need.” He didn't want to transform, but he would if he must.

“Again, legends, myths,” Virmal said dismissively.

Lukas wasn't sure what to say.

“Do you think the shadows don't exist?” Rudi asked from the kitchen alcove where he was making coffee.

Virmal hesitated. “Something exists. I don't know if it's the shadows or not. Harita believes in them.”

“They're real,” Lukas said. He didn't want to be cursed again, but he wished he had some way of showing them.

“That's what I'm afraid of,” Virmal admitted. “It will be dangerous, this battle of yours, yes?”

Lukas couldn't lie about that, not to one who was to be part of the knight. “Yes.” His dreams had more than once shown the knight slain.

“Then I can't,” Virmal said firmly.

“Harita would want you to,” Rudi said quickly, stepping around the breakfast bar and coming further into the room.

“And that's exactly why I can't,” Virmal said vehemently. “I won't take her near battle, draw her into harm's way.”

“But if we don't destroy the shadows, she'll be in harm's way. You won't be able to protect her,” Lukas said.

Virmal snarled. “You're wrong. I will defend her and keep her safe.”

Hamlin pushed up hard against Lukas. He was there, ready, if Lukas needed to fight.

A knock on the door startled them all.

Virmal's scent expanded as Harita walked into the room. Somehow, they were connected.

“You're already here,” Harita said, looking at Virmal and sounding disappointed. She wore a bright red-and-gold sari today. “I'd planned on getting here before you.”

“Sorry,” Virmal said, sounding not sorry at all.

“
Hmph
,” Harita said. “Well, it doesn't matter. I'm here to tell you that I will join your battle.”