The first guy, the Hound, walked straight up to him, grabbed the hair on the top of his head and yanked back, as if he was searching for something in Wai’s face. He squeezed his eyes shut as the Hound’s nostrils spread wide.
“Don’t drain me,” he said. “Please don’t drain me, I’ll tell you whatever you want.” The hand released his hair and Wai let his head fall forward, forcing himself not to look, not to check if his performance had worked. If they thought he was most afraid of being drained—maybe they wouldn’t bother to kill him.
“We’ll do whatever we want,” the Hound said. “And so will you. You’re one of the scentless ones.” Wai’s face must have shown confusion, because the Hound continued. “You’ve fed one of us already.” It wasn’t a question, but now that he understood what was meant, Wai nodded all the same. Let them think he was cowed.
“So how come you’ve got dra’aj now?”
“I don’t know.” Wai had lifted his hands to block the blow, but nowhere near fast enough. He spit blood out on the floor. He’d lost feeling in his cheek, and his teeth felt loose, but nothing worse yet. He smiled, but only on the inside. His plan was working.
“Only the older ones know, okay?” he said. “They arrange it. There’s some kind of free-floating dra’aj—I don’t know how they detect it, honest. They use it to keep the rest of us in line.” Wai was pretty proud of the lie, considering he’d just come up with it on the spur of the moment. The resentment he’d tried to put into his voice must have worked as well. He saw two of the lesser Hounds exchange glances behind the back of what he figured must be the Pack Leader. The idea of having and withholding rewards and favors must seem natural to them. He licked his lips, tasting blood, and hoped his luck would hold.
“Tell me what you know about the Riders.”
Wai shot a look at the other guy, now standing off to one side, still with his arms folded across his chest. Wai was on safer ground now. He didn’t have to pretend to feel what all Outsiders felt about Riders. “We don’t give a crap about them,” he said, his voice as tough as he could make it. “Like they don’t give a crap about us.”
The Pack Leader raised his hand as if to brush the hair from Wai’s forehead and he flinched away. “Remember what I can do to you if you lie,” the thing said. “Your kind has been seen talking to them.”
Now Wai was worried. When had they been seen? The only Rider he knew was that Alejandro—there was that other one, the dark one, but he’d only seen him that time with the girl Valory. If they knew about the Riders, did they know about the girl? Wai felt instinctively he shouldn’t say anything about her, but how could he avoid it if he was asked? Bottom line, he needed to get away from these things in one piece. Valory was friends with the Riders—she lived with one, for crap’s sake—and maybe they wouldn’t help at all if something happened to her.
Wai also knew that Nik would want him to get out of this alive. No matter what he had to do. “There’s more Riders around,” he said, trying to buy some time. “New ones. One of them has a human girl living with him. We were hoping he might listen to us, get us some help.”
“Help from the Riders, help against us?” This was one of the other Hounds, stepping forward to the leader’s side. Without even straightening, the leader snapped out his hand. The limb elongated, grew an extra joint, and the other Hound went flying, crashing into the bare brick of the far wall, changing into a thick-scaled snake with three heads, two heads, becoming a shaggy white dog with liver-colored spots, as big as a mastiff, with the claws of a hawk, that slouched away—awkwardly—whimpering.
The Pack Leader’s arm returned to its human shape. Wai-kwong shuddered.
“The girl, that’s the strange one, the one who has an unusual level of dra’aj?”
Wai had only just been told what was unusual about Valory. Would a psychic be something the Hunt could use? Could he avoid telling? “That’s not so strange,” he said. “Lots of humans have more dra’aj than others. Like, artists, or scientists, or something.” He could only hope he wasn’t giving them something they didn’t already know. “Please don’t drain me,” he pleaded, frightened to hear a whimper in his voice, telling himself he’d done it on purpose. “Kill me if you have to, but please don’t drain me.” He shoved his hands between his knees. His shoulders hitched up toward his ears.
“Don’t want us to bite you, that it?” The leader squatted down in front of him, and Wai looked away without turning his head. Its breath smelled of old meat, like a butcher shop that had seen better days. “Tell us everything you know about the girl.”
Don’t tell, he thought, no longer sure why. Don’t tell. But his lips were parting all by themselves.
“Something happens when she touches you,” Wai squeezed out between his clenched teeth. It was all too easy to let the tears come. His stomach crawled at the idea that he might be giving up the girl. Nik wants me to live through this. Somehow that thought wasn’t as reassuring as he wanted it to be. “I don’t know what it is, I swear. It doesn’t work if you touch her,” he added, hoping to buy the girl some safety that way. “Only if she touches you. Something good happens. That’s all I know.”
“I believe you,” the lead Hound said. It bent toward him, was reaching out when—
CRACK!
Wai-kwong’s ears popped and a woman appeared, her laugh high-pitched enough to stab.
“I knew it! I knew we could do it. Fox, my heart, my love—we can MOVE.” The woman, oh so beautiful despite being thin like an anorexic, ran to the Pack Leader still squatting in front of Wai, holding out her hands like someone offering to dance.
One second the leader was squatting next to Wai, the next he was on his feet and the woman was lying on the floor, her hand cupping her face. Wai hadn’t seen anyone move. The leader put his foot on the lady Hound’s throat and she whined.
“Did I say you could?” the leader growled. The thing on the ground changed and Wai shut his eyes. It must have replied wordlessly in the negative because the leader said, “And you won’t try it again unless I say so, will you?” The response must have been the right one, and Wai cracked open one eye.
“Now, what news was so important that you defy me to bring it?”
“Your brother, Pack Leader.” The woman was a woman again, but didn’t call the leader “Fox” this time. “I’ve seen him, spoken with him.” She looked up, but remained on the floor.
“Does he return to us?” There was an odd tone to the leader’s voice, Wai thought. Both like he wanted it, and like he didn’t, at the same time. This was starting to get interesting.
“Pack Leader, Pack Leader, please.”
Uh-oh, thought Wai, the answer wasn’t going to be a good one.
“Wolf can’t return to us. He’s a Rider now, Pack Leader. He’s no longer one of the Hunt.”
The woman cringed again, covering her head with her hands, but all the Pack Leader did was step away. He turned his attention back to Wai, and drew the palm of his hand down along Wai’s face. Cold. Cold enough to suck the warmth from where it touched, from everywhere. What colors there were in the room seemed to fade. Wai put his own hands to his face and moaned, falling out of the chair to his knees. He felt the hands under his arms, dragging him to the door, as if it was happening to someone else. The warmth of the summer night outside barely touched him as they shoved him out onto the sidewalk.
“Tell your leader I want to talk to him.”
After a few minutes Wai managed to convince himself to stand, and staggered to his feet, stumbling into the path of two people who swerved to avoid him. He needed to act quickly, before the deadly lethargy, the deadly indifference, could set in completely. Oh, lord, he’d forgotten just how bad this was. Maybe he’d been too confident of his own abilities; surely there was no way he’d be able to last this out. He pushed the thought aside, but it kept circling back. Wai searched his pockets, gritting his teeth when he found his phone missing. He looked around, checking his bearings. He was on Churc
h Street. That was the corner of Wood, right over there, and kitty-corner across the intersection was the Hair of the Dog. He’d eaten there once with a girlfriend. Cross at the lights, he reminded himself. Don’t take stupid chances. He crossed Wood, holding himself upright, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself. The doors, heavy wood and glass, were almost too much for him.
“Is there a phone I can use? I’ve had a dizzy spell,” he said to the young man behind the bar. The bartender frowned, and put down the glass he was polishing.
“Here, Corey, I’ve got it.” A short-haired older man, sitting nearby with a lady dressed in black, stood up, pulling a thick cell phone out of his pocket as he rose.
“You want 911?” he asked, flipping the phone open.
Wai shook his head. “My friend,” he said. For a second the man looked as though he might argue with him, but ended by handing Wai his phone. He dialed the number all of them knew by heart.
“Nik? It’s Wai-kwong. It’s happened again. Yes. Please come get me.”
He gave directions, closed the phone, and handed it back to the short-haired man. “Sit down here,” the man said. His wife shifted over on the bench to make room. “Do you want something to eat or drink while you’re waiting?”
“No, thanks,” Wai said. “I’ll be fine, as soon as my friend gets here.” He thought about what he’d done, what he’d said, and about his escape. He found the smile he gave the man and his wife was a genuine one.
Cassandra turned away from the vista of the sea that she was not looking at to confront the Sunward Rider standing on the beach behind her.
“You are certain of this?”
“As certain as I can be, High Prince,” Nighthawk said. “It is that there are three incidents. There is virtue in the number, as you know.”
Of course there was. But to suspect Wolf. She looked at Max, leaning against a boulder where the spray from the waves could not reach him. A short way down the beach a group of eight Wild Riders waited for her to rejoin them.
“You know what they say,” Max told her in answer to her look. “Once is accident, twice coincidence, third time…”
“Conspiracy,” she said. She turned back to Nighthawk. “But what of this Goblin? You say he was not harmed?”
“But only because his gold warned him, and he was able to escape. I’m afraid there is no doubt, in that particular case, that Wolf was there at the same time as a Hound.”
“Many of us have been in the same place at the same time as a Hound.” This was Max, and while Cassandra wanted very much to cling to what he’d suggested, wasn’t this exactly what she feared would happen? That meeting with the Hunt might prove to be too great a temptation for Wolf?
“It is possible that Stormwolf is not directly at fault.” Hawk seemed to think this idea a conciliatory one. “It is possible that he is unwittingly leading others to their prey.”
“At the very least, Stormwolf must be found and recalled.” Cassandra took a deep breath and let it out. She could not believe she’d made such a mistake; she’d hoped that such a thing was impossible, now that she was High Prince.
“Go. Find him. Tell him I have asked him to submit to your authority and return.”
“And if he does not?” Hawk asked.
“Then we will know for certain whether he is innocent.”
“Those who guard the Portals must know, at the least, that Stormwolf is wanted,” Hawk said. “They must detain him should he return to the Lands unknown to us.”
“Tell them to detain everyone,” Max suggested, coming closer. “After all, anyone returning from the Shadowlands might be a follower of the Basilisk. If everyone returning is required to report to you, Stormwolf won’t be singled out.” When Cassandra hesitated, Max added, “Most of the Portal guards are Wild Riders. They’re well-disposed toward Wolf; they’ll make sure he’s well-treated.”
“I am well-disposed toward him myself,” Cassandra reminded them. She stood and pulled on her gra’if gauntlets. “He, and all that he has done, whatever that may be, are my responsibility.”
“I will bring him to you, Truthsheart, rest easy.”
The Rider sitting on the back deck when we got home was a Sunward, like Alejandro, and reminded me of Sean Connery. His auburn hair, not as dark as mine, looked as trim as if he’d just come from the barber, and his goatee came to a precise point. His eyes were dark amber, his skin ruddy, but not as though he’d been out in the sun too long without sunscreen. More a healthy red-gold glow.
Alejandro greeted him with the double kiss and much slapping of shoulders before finally turning to smile at me. “This is my fara’ip, Valory Martin.”
The Sunward Rider stepped forward and, like Alejandro, he smiled. “I am Nighthawk,” he said. His voice had the same kind of faint accent that Alejandro’s did, and I realized that this was the Rider who had been living in Granada, the one who had been a Warden of the Exile. “My mother was Flyer in the Dusk, and the Dragon guides me.” He didn’t seem surprised when I didn’t offer my hand, just bowed deeply to me, like a hidalgo.
He knows, I thought. Alejandro must have told him.
“I’m honored to meet you.” I inclined my head in a shallow bow, and saw Alejandro’s faint smile of approval.
They let me precede them into the house—just like well-brought up Spaniards—but left me in the sunroom to take off my shoes, going straight into the kitchen, just as if they were human. I could hear them speaking some form of what they thought was English. I still don’t completely understand how the language thing works with the People. Alejandro says that there’s really only one language, and that we’re all speaking a variation of it, and that if my ears were attuned in the right way, I would understand what he meant. I know that what he says is true; after all, I can read people whether we speak the same language or not, but I also know that there’s more to it than even Alejandro realizes.
I sat with one shoe off and one shoe on, debating letting Alejandro deal with Nighthawk by himself. I was still buzzing from talking to Nik and Elaine—and a little from the kiss I could still feel on my cheek, since I knew exactly what Nik had meant by it—and I wasn’t entirely sure whether what I felt was excitement, or fear. Both emotions made the same kind of fluttery feelings in the belly. I knew what Nik felt, but I wasn’t so sure about myself. Whenever I found myself smiling about Nik, I’d think about Wolf, and the heat I’d seen in his gray eyes.
I’d told Alejandro that I’d wanted to help Nik and Elaine, and I’d meant it, but uncomfortable didn’t begin to describe how I felt at the idea that they, and who knows how many other Outsiders, knew my secret. What kind of long-term relationship could I have with anyone who could be so careless with my life?
With a sigh, I pulled off the second shoe and continued toward the kitchen. We had a guest. Alejandro says that a guest is a jewel on the cushion of hospitality. I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t join them.
Alejandro glanced at me as I leaned against the counter, and he turned back to the chorizo he was slicing.
“When were you planning to tell me?” His voice was as hard and as sharp as the knife in his hand. My mouth was suddenly dry. I glanced at Nighthawk and surprised a look of sympathy on his face. I didn’t have to ask what Alejandro was talking about. When I didn’t answer, Alejandro turned around to face me.
“You cannot say that you did not know,” he said. “When were you going to tell me that Stormwolf was once a Hound?”
At least he wasn’t saying that Wolf was still a Hound. I straightened my spine and decided to go on the offensive.
“Gee, I don’t know. When would have been the right time?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “Before or after you admitted you weren’t listening to me? That you weren’t respecting what I learned? Maybe I just didn’t want to have that discussion all over again.”
“Well, what we have been ‘discussing’ is the disappearance of the Water Sprite, Shower of Stars, who you no doubt remember, and it
appears there has also been an attack by a Hound on the Troll, Mountain Crag, requiring a Healer’s intervention.”
There was a gentle, almost apologetic cough. “There is also the matter of the Goblin, Vein of Gold, who was also visited by Hounds, though he was able to escape.” Hawk’s voice was deeper, darker than Alejandro’s.
Alejandro arranged the chorizo on a plate with sharp, precise movements but instead of passing it to me, walked it around himself and placed in on the table where it joined wine, bread, and manchego-filled dates. He might be angry, but by god, food still had to be eaten.
His eyes held mine. “Hawk has been sent here looking for Stormwolf, to see if he can shed any light on these incidents.”
Hawk followed Alejandro into the dining room, taking a seat along the side opposite the pass-through. I stood with my hand on the back of my usual chair, closest to the kitchen doorway.
As Alejandro poured wine, I thought back to my three encounters with Wolf—one of which, I had to remember, Alejandro didn’t know about. I couldn’t recall reading anything about Shower of Stars from him, and all I was getting about the Troll was an image of the aqueduct in Segovia, whatever that meant.
“If you think Wolf had anything to do with these disappearances, you’re wrong.” I pulled out my chair with maybe just a touch of unnecessary force and sat down. “And I can prove it. That is, if you’re going to believe me.” I looked at Alejandro, my eyebrows raised as far as they would go. This was his chance to prove that what he’d said the day we’d had our fight was true.
He lifted his wine, and put it down again without drinking. “You should have told me,” he said. “Trust must work both ways.”
I loosened the muscles of my jaw. “Okay,” I said. “But I saw this as someone else’s secret, not my own. I made a judgment call, and I’m sorry you got caught in the middle.” Well, maybe not strictly the whole truth, but close enough to save the moment. “It’s going to happen that there are things I can’t share with you.” His face began to cloud over again. “Even if this wasn’t one of those things,” I added quickly. “Nothing’s changed. Wolf is still the person we know, whatever he might have been in the past.”
Shadowlands Page 23
