Shadowlands (55 page)

Most astonishing of all, however, stranger even than seeing the scoreboard still hanging in the middle of nowhere, was the great pit dug into the ground, where once the ice and boards had been, so deep that the dump truck sitting at the bottom looked small.

“Something wrong?” Alejandro asked.

“No, not really. It’s just so different, so changed.” Nik waved his hand at the scoreboard. “I still see these little remnants of what used to be here, but everything else has been,” he gestured at the pit, “destroyed.” From the way the Rider patted him on the shoulder, Nik had the feeling Alejandro understood the kind of change he was talking about. “You want me to wait here?”

The Rider looked at the space immediately around them as if he were checking for tracks before answering. “I think not. If there is danger, better you should be with me than to face it alone.”

“No argument here.” Nik found he was grinning, but was pretty sure that bravado, rather than bravery, was behind it. Coming along had seemed like such a good idea when they were standing in Alejandro’s kitchen.

Once again, he let the Rider lead. This was definitely a work boot and hard hat area. The footing was secure but not even, and once they were farther in, there was less feeling of the vastness of the space, as they had to concentrate on their footing, and on getting around immediate obstacles.

“What, exactly, are we looking for?” Nik dodged between another scissor lift and a smaller backhoe.

“Any sign that Hawk might be here.” Alejandro was standing on a small rise created by the piling up of chunks of concrete floor, perhaps even the concrete that once lay under the ice itself.

“We’ve been watching the place,” Nik said. “And no one’s reported seeing Hawk.”
So maybe you and I can get out of here right now.
Nik remembered Alejandro’s praise of his courage and kept his thoughts to himself.

“Which tells us nothing, unfortunately.” Alejandro was frowning as he looked around. “Valory says the Hunt can Move.”

They had only made their way across about two thirds of the space when Alejandro froze, holding up his hand. Nik narrowed the space between them, until he was within arm’s length, but kept to one side, leaving the Rider room to use his sword. He badly wanted to ask what Alejandro had seen or heard, but bit down on the question, reminding himself how scornful he always felt of idiots in movies who asked dumb and noisy questions at the worst moments. He’d be a little more forgiving of the idiots from now on, he thought.

“Come forth,” Alejandro said, addressing, so far as Nik could see, a pile of debris the size of a convenience store. “I will not harm you.”

At first there was no response, but then a small scurry of dirt and pebbles rattled down, followed by a heavier crunching of actual footsteps. Nik braced himself, jaw clenched, but what walked around cement blocks and cracked flooring was just an ordinary man, his clothes worn and dusty, his hair brushed up on one side as though he’d slept on it funny.

Nik inched closer to Alejandro, whispered to him out of the corner of his mouth. “Some homeless guy.” If there was a way into a place of shelter, the homeless would find it.

“You think so?” The Rider held up his sword, and it was glowing, no doubt about it now. He pointed at the space in front of him. “Come here,” he said to the homeless man. “Stand here in front of me. Now.”

Nik blinked and backed up a step before he even knew he was going to do it. The man moved way faster than any homeless guy Nik had ever seen. Not as fast as Nik had seen Hawk or Alejandro move, but still. Now that he was closer, Nik noticed other things. For one, that he couldn’t smell anything. Any homeless person as scruffy as this could usually be smelled from much farther away.

And was there something odd about the guy’s eyes?

Eye? No, eyes, definitely two eyes. And the quality of energy around him—
Hound
. For certain. He was about to tell Alejandro when the thing spoke.

“You’re the Old One who talked to the Pack Leader.” The voice was rough, but in no way a growl, though the hairs on the back of Nik’s neck did stand up.

“I am. Do not make the mistake of believing me prey.” Alejandro gestured with the
gra’if
sword. “I have here teeth and claws enough for you.”

The other cringed away, and for an instant Nik thought he saw claws where the hands should be, and rough feathers in place of clothes.

“No, no. That’s not what I meant at all. Do you, do you know anything about Stormwolf?” Now the tone was wistful.

Seeing Alejandro take a step closer to the thing, lowering his sword, Nik relaxed and did the same.

“He’s been cured,” Nik said. “He’s not a Hound anymore. You could be cured as well.” The thing nodded violently, and Nik moved closer still, but Alejandro barred his way with the
gra’if
blade.

“No, please, don’t touch me,” the creature said. “I won’t be able to resist. The hunger’s always hungry, you know?” Nik swallowed and allowed Alejandro to push him back. He couldn’t afford to be drained again, not now.

“It is well, Hound. The Portal is nearby, can you follow me if I Move there?”

“Sure. Of course. Then what?”

Nik knew exactly what was making Alejandro hesitate. These were the things that had preyed on him, on Poco and Elaine—on all the Outsiders. And they’d done the same and worse to Riders over who knew how long. But surely there had to be more to them than this? Wolf had been one, and now he was different.

“We should help him,” he said aloud. “If he wants it.”

“I will take you to the High Prince myself,” Alejandro said. “She will Heal you, as she did Stormwolf.”

The Hound inclined his head, turned it slightly to one side to expose his throat. “Go. I’ll follow.”

Nik was standing very close now, almost between Alejandro and the Hound. “Where do you want me to wait for you,” he was beginning to say, when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. The Hound’s hand snaked out toward him, and the
gra’if
blade swung, and the hand, the paw, the taloned foot, lay on the ground and became a hand once more.

The sword flashed again, the head came free from the body, and Alejandro was pushing Nik back out of the way of the fountaining blood.

E
LAINE SHOOK HER HEAD and closed her phone. “Still no response,” she said. “It rings seven times, and then goes to voice mail.”

Moon looked around the intersection where York Street crossed King Street. There was a widening of the sidewalk here, and tables set out where people were sitting drinking coffee, some reading large sheets of paper, others books, and some studying flat black rectangular squares. It looked peaceful. Fun.

“What does David’s phone sound like?” she asked. “I thought I heard something.”

Elaine manipulated her own phone until it showed her a different display. “Chingon,” she said. “It’s a piece of music called ‘El Pistolero.’”

“Try it again,” Moon suggested.

Elaine changed the display again and pressed one of the buttons now revealed. Moon studied the Outsider woman. She could neither see nor feel the quality in her that made Elaine an Outsider and not an ordinary human, but she had been warned what signs to look for.
At the moment, the slight line that formed between the woman’s brows indicated concern, so all was well.

Except, of course, that this David was missing.

“Did you know him well? David?”

Elaine was shaking her head, and clearly about to speak when Moon held up a finger. “There,” she said. “This way.” She led the way east. “Call him again. Keep calling until I say.”

Elaine complied. “I don’t know him at all,” she said. “But it’s like being adopted and suddenly finding your real family. All these people you’ve never met, who you now have so much in common with.”

“But this is a good thing, is it not? You have gained, not lost.” Moon concentrated, but the sound had faded again. “Again, please.”

“Sorry.” Elaine pressed the button again. “In a way I’ve gained, but Nik…Nik’s forgotten that he told me this, but—well, I’m going to live longer than usual, apparently, but I won’t be able to have children, so—” Here, Elaine gave a small sigh that, from her smile, was meant to be laughter. “I guess I win some and I lose some.”

Moon placed her hand on her womb. “Yes, I guess we do.”

They had proceeded almost halfway to the next intersection and Elaine’s eyes widened, as she, too, heard a faint sound of music, the same phrase repeated again and again.

“Here.” The sound came from a round bin made up of metal mesh, lined with a thin green bag. Moon tilted her head, listened as the phrase of music repeated once more, stabbed her hand into the bin, and came up with a phone that looked much like Elaine’s.

“No way.” Elaine snapped hers shut, turning her head to look first one way, then another. “No way David or anyone else dropped that in the garbage by mistake. That’s a $600 phone.”

“Do you see him?” But Elaine was already heading for a nearby building. A low stone wall surrounded the entrance, enclosing a small section of grass and flowers. A man was leaning against this wall, holding one of the sets of wide papers in front of him. His eyes lifted as Elaine approached him, and he smiled. The hairs rose on the back of Moon’s neck.

“Excuse me,” Elaine was saying. “Have you seen a man in his fifties? Blue jeans? Tattooed forearms? He—”

The man put his papers aside, and his smiled widened. Surely he had far too many teeth.

“Elaine!” Moon was at her side in an eye blink, and as soon as her hand closed around the Outsider’s wrist, she Moved.

Half-closed blinds shielded Elaine’s office from the afternoon sun. Most of the light came from the computer monitors they’d left running when they’d gone to find out why David wasn’t answering his phone.

“Was that—”

Moon never found out what Elaine meant to ask her. She was abruptly pushed to one side by the rough scaly back of a monster.

For a time I wasn’t sure where I was. There was an odd quality to the light, as if it glowed and flickered at the same time. Then I realized that I was looking at the coals of an open fire, a fire that burned without smoke, since I couldn’t smell any. A murmur of voices turned my attention in another direction, and when I saw Wolf and Ice Tor standing next to the workbench, it all came flooding back to me. I grabbed my left wrist, and lifted my hand to eye level.

There was more than enough light, even in this darkened corner, to show me the new shape of my hand. At first my mind refused to acknowledge it, it didn’t even feel like my hand. There was no pain, no numbness, and no, I was glad to say, phantom feeling. It was, strangely, as if my finger had never been there.
Maybe I’m in shock.

The other two hadn’t seen I was awake. They were still by the workbench, still looking down at something.

The Horn.

I sat up, fully expecting the room to spin around me, but again, nothing. Not even a trace of the motion sickness that had been troubling me so much on the way here. Whatever the Dwarf’s magic was, it was still in place.

I must have made some sound, however, because Wolf was at my side before I saw him move.

“Are you well?”

“I think so,” I said. “Is it ready? Did it work?” I gathered my feet under me and Wolf held out his forearm for me, hesitating only when I shook my head. I pushed myself up using my right hand only. Even though there was no pain, even though it didn’t, yet, feel any differently, I couldn’t bring myself to use my left hand, not even to
touch Wolf’s
gra’if
-covered wrist. My eye kept being drawn to it, as if to check that the missing finger was still missing.

Ice Tor stood aside, and I approached the workbench. He had laid out a piece of black felt, and on top of this rested what looked like a miniature flute. It was about the length of my hand, had a raised hole for the lips, just like a real flute, and air holes as if for notes.

“I was just saying that it is much larger than the one the Basilisk had,” Wolf said.

“Different elements, perhaps,” the Dwarf said. “Or simply the other was more finely made, by artisans of more skill than I.”