“You weren’t at your den, Pack Leader,” he said.
“I’m here.”
Snowfang was agitated, his eyes flicking toward the glass of water on the table and back up at Fox’s face. Fox nodded. Looked like he wasn’t the only one affected by the Rider’s dra’aj. The hand Snowfang put out for the glass of water on the table (flicker) became a twisted mess of claws and talons before re-forming in time to grasp the glass.
“Watch out,” Fox warned. “Don’t drop it.”
Snowfang took several deep swallows, lowering the glass with a sigh. “What do we care? These are sheep, and we’re wolves.”
Fox had the other Hound by the throat almost before the words had finished exiting from his mouth. Another one. He held fast, watching Showfang’s face redden. One of the wait staff, coming toward them, turned around and went back to the bar. “We care because I say we care, and I’m Pack Leader.” He waited, still holding fast, until the other lowered his eyes, turned his hands palm up, the closest he could come in this place to rolling over and showing his belly.
When Fox released him, Snowfang swallowed and rubbed at his throat before gesturing toward the Moonward Rider. “This guy came looking for you, Pack Leader.”
Now Fox turned to look the Rider up and down. He had the usual Moonward pallor, with raven-black hair and jadestone eyes. The eyes narrowed, but he didn’t look away. Something about his scent was familiar, though not enough for Fox to be sure he’d seen the Rider before.
“So he’s found me.” Fox looked up at Snowfang. “Why are you still here?”
“Pack Leader, we’ve got a scentless one for you, like you wanted. It’s in your den.”
“Go.” He flicked a glance at where Badger still sat across the table. “Both of you. I’ve got business here.”
The Rider had stayed silent and watchful during the whole of Fox’s exchange with Snowfang; unusually patient for a follower of the Basilisk Prince.
“Who are you?” Fox indicated the now empty seat across the table.
The Rider smiled as he sat down. “I expected to see Wolf.”
A fist clenched in Fox’s chest. “You know where he is?”
The Rider shook his head, his eyes never leaving Fox’s. Brave, or foolhardy? It was difficult to know. “I last saw him with the Basilisk Prince.” He shrugged. “Haven’t seen either of them since.”
Fox nodded. “So I’m Pack Leader now.” He leaned back at the approach of the waiter. Another brave one. “Beer,” he told the human, and waited until he returned with two pint glasses.
“I hear your Pack increases.” The Rider picked up his glass of beer and took a sip, pulling a napkin out of the dispenser to wipe off his upper lip.
“And yours decreases, unless you’ve got a new Pack Leader as well? Someone who’s planning to take over for the Basilisk?”
The Rider shrugged again, this time smiling. “Things have changed. There is a real High Prince, not a pretender. A new Cycle.”
“Something tells me if you were going to join up with her, you wouldn’t be here.” Fox smiled, letting his teeth show.
The Rider wrinkled his nose, took another sip of his beer.
“Some will. Those who can, once they’ve come to their senses and stopped believing that they can continue preying—if you’ll pardon the use of the word—on the small and unimportant. Some will not. Some do not wish to serve the High Prince. Frankly, some of us would rather serve ourselves. And have others serve us.”
Fox found himself smiling. “You mean you would. I don’t see much ‘us’ about you, buddy. You’d like to be Pack Leader?”
Now the Rider was nodding. Short, shallow nods. “But not of your Pack, and not in the Lands. The High Prince is Riding us down, and she cannot stop. In the Shadowlands, however, that might be different.”
“So why come to me?” Though again, Fox thought he could guess the answer.
The Moonward Rider’s face hardened, and his lips thinned, but he waited to answer until the tension had left his shoulders.
“From what I understand now, we needn’t be enemies. Our needs are not in conflict. On the contrary, we may be able to help one another.”
“How so?”
“Your numbers are few. You would not need to increase them—and therefore decrease your supply—if you had allies you could count upon. And who can count upon you to leave them dra’aj-whole.”
Fox picked up his own glass and took a careful swallow. He’d been thinking along these same lines himself. There might be a few more Riders, maybe even some of this one’s followers, who were far enough down the path Fox had followed so long ago to become Hounds, but once the Fives were complete, were any more actually needed? Sure, there was plenty of dra’aj here, but why share it if it wasn’t absolutely necessary?
“I think we can come to terms, Rider.” Fox stood, picked up the used napkins on the table and gave them the appearance of human money. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
Chapter Thirteen
I ENDED UP NOT CALLING NIK BACK. It seemed like a small enough thing to do for Alejandro, especially after he’d agreed that I could tag along to the meeting he’d already arranged.
Now that the time had come, I found the idea of speaking to Nik made me feel a bit shy. It was nice to know that he liked me, and wanted to see me, that made me feel warm all over—but it didn’t help me to know what I wanted to say to him, let alone what I wanted to do.
As usual, Alejandro wore one of his summer-weight suits, a beautiful deep blue with a crisp white windowpane shirt and a silk tie, but I decided to go a bit more casual—though not quite as far as the khakis and hoodie Nik had last seen me in. I decided on a taupe linen shift, square-necked, with a dull turquoise trim, along with some high-heeled espadrilles of the same blue-green shade. My shoulder bag should have been straw, or even a natural leather instead of black, but I hadn’t yet reached the point where I could have matching accessories for every outfit. A clutch that matched the shoes was tucked into my bag.
The lady I’d previously seen in a print dress met us at the top of the stairs and introduced herself as Arlene before ushering us into Elaine’s office. Elaine was sitting behind her desk, but rose as we came in. She looked spectacular, at least in comparison to the last time I’d seen her. Her makeup was impeccable and her dark blonde hair and rosy fingernails looked as though she had just come from the salon. She was wearing a sleeveless green silk-knit top with the skirt of a dark gray pin-striped suit; the jacket was hung casually over the back of her chair. The pleated detail on the skirt was repeated on the pockets of the jacket. Her open-toed, sling-back shoes were the same ruby color as her earrings and necklace. Seeing this change in her was like watching one of those makeover shows.
There was a television on a side table, tuned to a news channel, and I could also see news feeds on two of the computers on Elaine’s desk. Some of the talking heads were familiar—one of them was the spokesperson for the Ministry of Health. Elaine muted the sound on all three devices as she came out from behind her desk.
“No one’s actually saying the word ‘epidemic,’” she said, gesturing at the screens, “but you can tell they want to. They’re reporting new cases all the time, and people are being asked to stay at home, since the hospitals are already crowded.” She shrugged. “At least we’ll have a good idea where everyone is, if we ever get a chance to help them.”
She put out her hand as she came toward us, drew it back as if she’d changed her mind about shaking, and then, shrugging, extended her hand again. Alejandro gave her the kind of bow that Spanish grandees must have given people in the sixteenth century, and I could see that she was genuinely impressed.
“So you’re the Rider,” she said to him. “I’m not sure I can see anything different about your dra’aj—” she pronounced it as though it had only one syllable “—but Nik says that will come.” She turned to me. “And you’re Valory Martin.” She put out her hand with less hesitation this time, glanc
ing between us as she added, “The two of you live together?”
Alejandro smiled. “We do not ‘live’ together, not in the complete connotation of that word. We are fara’ip. Like family.”
As she nodded and released my hand, I flashed on images [a cream-colored cocktail-length wedding dress; sorrow mixed with joy] that seemed to say something about her future. [She wouldn’t have children; none of them could; that was the sorrow.] Her fragments were tight together, but layered somehow, and I realized she’d had another infusion of dra’aj since I’d seen her last. I gave her what I hoped was a normal smile.
“There is something different about you,” she said, smiling at me with her head on one side. “Not an Outsider, different in another way.” She shook her head. “Is it because you’re psychic?
My stomach dropped a couple of inches. It never occurred to me that Nik would have just told Elaine what I was. Who else had he mentioned it to? How many people could know about me before my secret wasn’t safe anymore? How long until one of them innocently told someone like—well, it didn’t have to be someone like the Collector, did it? I knew enough to be sure that there were business people out there—and governments for that matter—who would see me as a valuable asset to be kept for, say, national security.
What I’d told Alejandro was true, Nik and Elaine were both good people, but that didn’t mean they didn’t also have their own agendas.
Elaine gestured to where a couch and a couple of client chairs were arranged around a low coffee table holding an insulated coffeepot with a brushed steel sugar bowl. She had mugs instead of cups with saucers, but the mugs were obviously high-end china. Cream, in a pitcher that matched the sugar bowl, was taken out of a small refrigerator hidden in a sideboard.
“Nik’s just finishing up,” she said. “It seems silly to be carrying on, business as usual, but once we resolve all of this, I’d like to have a business to come back to.”
I had to admit, I knew exactly how she felt.
“I’ve been coordinating information I think we’re going to need,” she continued. “Sightings of the Hunt, and…” she hesitated.
“And some Riders.” Nik came in as we turned toward the door. He was wearing the slacks of a tan suit, though he must have left his jacket behind in his office. The sleeves of his ivory shirt were rolled up, and he was loosening his tie as he came. His skin and hair looked very dark against the shirt. “So you’re not bringing good news, are you? Not if there are Riders with the Hunt.”
“These would be the same Riders who have been with the Hunt all along, the ones who brought them here,” Alejandro pointed out.
“Why should I believe you?” Nik stood looking down at Alejandro, his brows pulled down in a frown.
“These Riders were followers of the Basilisk Prince. They are our enemies as well.”
“So the enemy of my enemy is my friend, that’s what you’re saying?” Nik grabbed one of the other chairs by the arm and dragged it over to the table, situating himself at one end, so he had Alejandro on his right, and me and Elaine on his left. He helped himself to a black coffee, took a sip, and settled back into the chair, propping his left ankle on his right knee.. He should have seemed relaxed, but all his movements were sharp with tension.
And he hadn’t looked at me yet.
“Unfortunately,” Alejandro said, “the news is worse than this. We can expect no help from the High Prince at this time. The very troops who would be best able to help us are the ones the High Prince most needs herself to deal with the Hunt and the Basilisk Warriors still in the Lands. Until the threat there is dealt with, none can be spared.”
Nik’s eyes shut tight and his exhale was more than half snort. “That’s just great! So we’re back to where we started.” Nik clenched his teeth so tightly a muscle jumped in his jaw.
“No, you aren’t,” I said. “You have Alejandro, and you have me.”
Nik transferred his glare to me, but his face almost immediately softened. “Sorry.” The grim line of his mouth relaxed to something very close to a smile, and I felt my heart skip a beat at the warmth in his eyes. I hoped I wasn’t actually blushing. I cleared my throat.
“And there are others like Alejandro—Riders or what have you—who are already living here. They’ve got a vested interested in seeing the Hunt dealt with, since they’d be at risk as well.” I pointed out.
Nik was nodding now. “Okay. Good. How many?”
Alejandro set his mug down on the table, frowning. “I cannot say for certain. Most of the People here are Riders, but as for how many bear gra’if…” He shrugged.
Wolf bore gra’if. The thought sent a shiver up my spine. Would he, could he, track down and kill his old Pack mates? Something told me this might not be the best way for him to deal with his own conflicts. I couldn’t go to him for this, not, at least, until I’d exhausted other possibilities. Maybe I should wait and see if Cassandra’s people found the Horn?
Elaine was sitting very still, very straight and quiet, and when I looked at her now, I saw that she was doing her best to watch Alejandro without actually staring at him. He looked human, of course, but even without looking like a Rider, he was still a very handsome man.
I thought about my own reaction to Alejandro, the first time I’d shaken his hand, and known him for what he was. Not just a gifted human like me, and the others who’d been “collected,” but another type of being entirely. Looking back on it, I think I’d been so overcome at finally finding someone who would help me that I simply hadn’t been fazed by the fact that he wasn’t human. Sure, I’d been surprised, but my ability means that I never have to wonder whether something is true. I realized that I was only now having to deal with the ramifications of what humans have always called Faerie—and that surprised me more than it should have. Alejandro and I had come to Toronto to look for my family, not to get involved with Outsiders, Riders, and the Hunt. Whatever it meant to the rest of the People, it looked like the turning of the Cycle was only complicating things for me.
“And there is still the Horn,” Alejandro was now saying, echoing my own thought of a moment before. “The High Prince has her people looking for it even now. And if it is found, it can be used to control the Hunt.”
“That’s our best chance,” I said. “Right now they’re scattered, so even if we had more help, we’d still have to chase them down, maybe one by one. With the Horn, the idea is that we could get them all together. But it’s not a sure thing, so in the meantime, Alejandro’s going to find the other Riders who will help us.”
Alejandro glanced at his watch, and got to his feet. “I am meeting someone this very afternoon,” he said. “And I will report my progress as soon as I have any.”
Nik walked us down the stairs to the front door. He even shook Alejandro’s hand, apparently over his distrust for the moment. When he turned to me with his hand extended, I couldn’t not take it, though I meant to keep the touch down to a minimum [left-handed; owned a pair of dueling pistols that had belonged to Lord Byron], but Nik had other ideas.
“I was glad to hear you say ‘us,’” he said, looking directly into my eyes. “To know that you’re on our side.” He was still holding my hand, so I can’t say I was entirely surprised when he kissed my cheek.
Wai-kwong sat with his hands tucked under his thighs, just in case they might shake. He was perfectly justified in being afraid—hell, he was justified in being terrified, these were Hounds—but no need to let them know it. If he kept his head, he’d get out of this. And if he kept telling himself that, his stomach might actually start to believe it. Still, the Hunt rarely bothered to kill their human prey, and as for the worst they could do, well they’d done that to him already, hadn’t they? He’d lived through it once, he could do it again.
Or so he kept telling himself.
If he kept his head, he might even learn something. He’d never heard that an Outsider like himself had been taken by the Hunt, usually they fed and passed on, showing no interest in
their prey once the dra’aj had been taken. He wiggled his feet in their dirty red Converse running shoes. They hadn’t bothered tying him to the chair, knowing he couldn’t move fast enough to escape. Would he be the first person who had an actual conversation with one of the Hounds? Not that any of these had been inclined to talk to him so far. He tried not to look at the one in the corner who occasionally flickered into something else, mostly a dog, but sometimes a misshapen thing sort of like a snake with hooves that made Wai’s stomach lurch.
He tried to take a deep, slow breath without making it too obvious. Thank god it wasn’t long since he’d been topped up. Wai didn’t want to think about how much harder this would all be if he was brittle with emptiness.
The three Hounds in the room with him all turned toward the door, though Wai hadn’t heard anything. He knew where they were, which was more than the Hounds did, he thought. This building was Maple Leaf Gardens—or had been. The hockey team played in the Air Canada Centre now, like the Raptors and the musical acts that weren’t big enough for the Sky Dome—he meant the Rogers Centre, it wasn’t called the Sky Dome anymore.
Is it still called babbling if I only do it in my head? he wondered.
Two guys came through the door. The first guy looked like a young Ian McShane, only taller, like he’d been stretched, and Wai-kwong figured the actor never had quite that look on his face, even though he’d played some pretty bad guys. He looked normal enough for someone Wai knew wasn’t human, but he’d already seen the guy in the corner morphing, so there was no doubt in his mind that this was another one of the Hunt. And an important one, judging from the way the others circled around him like dogs around the alpha.
The second guy had a different look entirely, for all that he had a similar coloring, dark, almost blue-black hair, skin like old parchment. He looked younger than the first guy. He stood back, his arms folded, looking carefully around him like he’d never been here before. Not a Hound, Wai realized. Didn’t have the distinctive layered feeling to the dra’aj.
Shadowlands Page 22
