Guardian Hound

by Cutter, Leah

  Master Yon’s breath caught as Mei Ling shrugged the robe from her shoulders, letting it pool onto the ground around her feet.

  This, too, was a power, her twin assured her.

  Mei Ling took a long deep breath, then, finally, turned around.

  Master Yon’s lazy, cruel smile melted away.

  Mei Ling took one step, then another toward him, ready to fight, to bite and scratch and claw if he tried to hurt her or make her do anything more.

  But Master Yon didn’t yell, or pull back in fear and horror at the sight of her twin, the soul her grandmother had called evil.

  Instead, he laughed.

  “I knew there was something special in you, something those idiots were too stupid to see. Something that only I have the ability to train.”

  His gaze traveled over her naked body, but before Mei Ling could do more than bristle, he told her, “Put on your robe. No one, particularly not me, will ever touch you without your consent.”

  Mei Ling did as she was told, surprised to find her hands wanted to tremble. She didn’t let them, of course.

  Master Yon kept talking. “You’re a wild one, I guess. Born crocodile clan, outside the families. I’m surprised they haven’t found you yet. But I will teach you better than they could.”

  Crocodile? Her twin liked that. And to learn—she hoped he meant magic.

  With a last, comforting rumble, deep inside, Mei Ling’s twin soul slipped back into the silent waters buried within them. The room grew darker. But Mei Ling knew that when she called, her twin would rise again.

  She turned back to Master Yan once she was properly covered up again. His eyes had grown less glassy. “I will have to change my plans for you, now,” he said.

  Mei Ling had been trained to silence, to listen with patience. But a question had been let into the room, and Mei Ling felt compelled to ask, “Plans, sir?”

  Master Yan’s smile widened. “I had thought—never mind. Now, I have the perfect place for you.”

  When Mei Ling didn’t ask anything more, Master Yan finally relented and said one word.

  “Management.”

  # # #

  After Mei Ling’s twentieth year with Master Yon, she politely asked him for two weeks of time off.

  “Family matters,” she told Master Yon, standing in his study. She loved this room, with the books that lined the walls and the fine calligraphy scrolls that Master Yon had done himself hanging between the shelves. Sweet incense mingled with the scent of high quality tea and candied ginger that Master Yon treated himself with. The broad oak of his desk held the accounts for the week, and Master Yon was checking Mei Ling’s numbers.

  He wouldn’t find any errors, she knew.

  Charms clustered in every corner of the room, protection magic that Master Yon had trained Mei Ling to use. A window on the far side opened up onto the garden of the compound. They’d moved from the city, changing houses more than once as bribes stopped working, moving the rest of the girls when they could, setting them free if they had to.

  The Middle Kingdom was changing, faster than any could keep up.

  Master Yon finally looked up at her. Age had puffed out his cheeks and made his jowls sag. But he proved once again he was worth staying with, his intelligence matching hers. “You’ll go regardless of what I say, won’t you?”

  Mei Ling merely smiled. Her quiet continued to serve her well.

  “You have my leave, then. Just be careful.”

  Mei Ling nodded. Mao’s Red Guard roamed widely. They’d escaped notice so far—through connection, bribes, and magical spells that made those eager for victims to look past their door. “I will be more careful than usual,” she promised.

  “Do you need any supplies?”

  Mei Ling considered. She had the charms and spells he’d taught her, the weapons he’d trained her in, and her own wits. “No, thank you, sir. I will return at the next half moon.”

  Master Yon snorted. “Good luck to any who tried to hold you.”

  Mei Ling left quietly that night, hidden by a dark cloak.

  It didn’t take her long to track her prey: The trader who’d lied to her parents and sold her into what was supposed to be a life of prostitution and slavery.

  Just because it hadn’t turned out that way didn’t mean she no longer wanted the revenge she’d promised herself as a child.

  The warehouse was in a different city than the one she’d been originally sold in, but it still had the same feeling of age, with shelves covered with dust and no near neighbors.

  Mei Ling had chosen it for that, and for one other reason: The working industrial freezer.

  The trader and his coworker were easily trapped by Mei Ling and her other soul. She killed them faster than they deserved, using the stiletto Master Yon had gifted her with during her training.

  It took a full week to finish both men. But Mei Ling savored every meal her other soul indulged in, waking with her belly full and her clothes bloodstained.

  She only kept a single bone from the hand of the trader, which she had whittled into a toothpick: A reminder to keep both her human and crocodile teeth strong.

  # # #

  Something stirred in the house, a whisper Mei Ling hadn’t placed there.

  Despite her many decades, her ears had never dulled and her nose still easily scented trouble.

  Trouble enough to send her twin swimming closer, twisting up around her human soul, restless and angry.

  Mei Ling had been warned by the fortune-teller around the corner of dark smoke seeping into her house and spoiling it. She’d assumed it had meant some kind of fire, and had made her servants check all the smoke detectors, making sure they all worked, as well as running tests on all the cameras and the security systems. Then she’d checked her protection spells and charms, but everything was in order.

  However, the fortune-teller had never been wrong. She was a blind girl, young, who read tea leaves by sticking her fingers into a cup and feeling the shape of the future.

  Mei Ling suspected that whatever had invaded her house had come from one of the new girls, not one of her regulars, whom she’d worked with and trained diligently.

  None of the new girls had smelled of magic, but maybe one had carried a charm with her, hidden away.

  Mei Ling made sure her stiletto was close at hand, as well as her garrote and her claws. Then, she invited her twin to help her see.

  The dark study brightened, beyond what the modern electric lights provided. Her ancient desk—rescued from Master Yon’s estate before the Red Guard could smash it—stood clean of account books, holding a tall computer monitor now. Shelves all around the room were full of ancient and modern books in Chinese, French, and English, all read and cherished by Mei Ling. An old fashioned Victorian fainting couch sat in the corner with the perfect lantern hanging over it. It had been her favorite place for an afternoon tryst, though now Mei Ling only tried out new authors, not new staff.

  Mei Ling prowled through the first floor, then the second, then finally up to the third, to the dormitories where the girls slept. The new girls stayed by themselves at first, only joining the other girls in the big rooms once they’d found their way, accepting their fate or else leaving. Mei Ling worked them hard, but she never resorted to drugs to break the will of her girls.

  They chose the work. Or they didn’t.

  As Mei Ling had suspected, her nose drew her to the room of one of the new girls. Mei Ling hadn’t learned the girl’s name yet—why bother until she’d settled in? She was pretty as a kitten, though, with an upturned nose and long, sleek black hair.

  What Mei Ling hadn’t anticipated was the shadow that hung over the girl, like a lover, provoking her, draining the life from her, turning her golden skin gray.

  Mei Ling hissed, her teeth growing strong and her claws, stronger. She lunged at the thing, striking it.

  But her claws passed through it like smoke.

  She struck again and again, but the shadow barely moved,
as if it didn’t even notice her.

  Only when Mei Ling stopped did she see that she’d sheared off parts of the shadow. Black tendrils clung to her scales, wriggling like sea worms, trying to taste her flesh. They dripped off her claws like oily, black water, disappearing when they hit the floor, dissolving in silent poofs of smoke.

  Finally, the entire shadow pulled in on itself, drawing together until there was nothing left but the rancid smell of moldering ash.

  What was that thing?

  The girl settled into a peaceful sleep, her tormentor gone, her skin regaining its normal, healthy glow. Mei Ling knew that when she questioned the girl in the morning, the girl would know nothing—only that she didn’t sleep well some nights, as attested to by the dark circles under her eyes and drawn lines across her face.

  Should Mei Ling send her away? Or kill her? The shadows were the girl’s problem, not Mei Ling’s.

  Her soul’s twin paused at that, and turned them around. Mei Ling walked into the next room at her twin’s prompting.

  More shadows lurked there, tormenting the other girls, draining away their joy and vitality. But these weren’t new girls, no. Bing Yu and Xiao Li and other favorites of Mei Ling’s slept here.

  Mei Ling growled softly. These things were not allowed to hurt her girls.

  Slashing at the shadows with all her might barely bothered them, though. The charms she’d hung for protection and good health didn’t affect them.

  Mei Ling had always chosen her own fate. These shadows would not get the best of her or her girls.

  And were they only bothering the girls and the help? How many mornings had Mei Ling woken up tired recently, with no clear memory of bad sleep?

  Eventually the shadows had their fill and withdrew.

  Mei Ling returned to her study. She knew of no books that talked of these things, no myth she’d ever heard of described such shadow creatures. She did a little research on the internet while she waited for the dawn, but again, found nothing.

  At first light, she’d go call on the fortune-teller, the one who had predicted the shadows. The girl would tell Mei Ling how to defend her house against them.

  Or else.

  # # #

  The blind fortune teller sat on the stoop outside her shop, wearing a simple white blouse and Western jeans. Her black hair was neatly pulled back, showing her moon-round face. In the street beside her, other early risers rode their bicycles to the market or were returning with their baskets and hands full of bags. A group of old women chatted adamantly as they carried birds in cages; not to sell, but taking their pets for a morning walk.

  Mei Ling had always thought the girl’s eyes were deep, like black holes, but here in the morning light, they looked sewn shut with black thread.

  “Good morning, old mother,” the blind seeress called, lifting her face and looking directly at Mei Ling as she approached. She’d always been able to sense Mei Ling’s approach.

  “Good morning to you,” Mei Ling responded, using more formal language.

  It wasn’t correct, an older person showing a younger person such respect. But Mei Ling knew the girl had power, and she felt she had to acknowledge that.

  The girl smiled at the greeting, then grew serious again. “I do not know how to help you fight the shadows,” she said without preamble.

  Mei Ling nodded, believing her. “Who can help?” she asked, just as directly.

  “The clan can.”

  “My clan?” Mei Ling asked.

  Master Yon and the other human magicians she’d met had some knowledge of the crocodile clan that they’d been happy to share with her; however, Mei Ling hadn’t bothered to correct any of them when what they’d told her was blatantly wrong. She’d only agreed to meet someone from her clan once, and this woman hadn’t told her anything she didn’t already know. At least as a wild one, born outside the families, she’d had Master Yon to teach her magic.

  “No, not your clan. Another. Others.”

  Mei Ling pushed down on the spike of excitement that rushed through her.

  Other clans? Had that been a birdman she’d seen at the market, five years before? She hadn’t tried tracking him but instead, had slipped away into the crowds before the foreigner had seen her.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have been so cautious. But she’d only survived the decades of upheaval in the Middle Kingdom by being careful. And her twin had approved of her action as well.

  “You must first find the hound prince,” the seeress continued. “Only he can help you. He will battle all the shadows, before they grow worse and attack not just in dreams.”

  “Where is he?” Mei Ling asked. Were there finding spells she could use to locate him? Or would he be fully defended against such simple magic?

  “The hound court is in Germany—Hamburg. You must go there. The hounds have the most contact with the other clans, so they won’t kill you immediately, unlike the ravens or the tigers, if you happened into their temples.”

  “Thank you,” Mei Ling said, bowing to the seeress. It was enough of a hint. She could figure out the rest. She bent forward and placed some hard currency in the girl’s hand.

  The girl’s fingers were cold, but strong as they clung to Mei Ling’s. “You will not see me again,” the girl whispered. “Not before the shadows ruin me. I won’t know you, then. But I have no regrets. You’ve always had the most interesting fate.”

  Mei Ling straightened up, then bowed again, taking her leave. Rage boiled through her. The shadows were disturbing her girls, sucking her own life, and now were going to ruin the best fortune-teller she’d ever worked with.

  They weren’t to be tolerated.

  But Mei Ling calmed herself as she walked, making plans.

  She’d have to close the house, of course. Sell the girls who couldn’t buy their way out of their contracts. Some of Master Yon’s friends, the alchemists and other spell workers, could help her find the hound clan, if her own nose didn’t lead her to them.

  Then this prince…well, he was a man, no?

  Though Mei Ling had many decades on her bones, she still knew how to get what she needed from men.

  And if not, her teeth were surely sharper than his.

  Chapter Four

  Germany, Eleven Years Ago

  Lukas

  Lukas stood in the middle of the classroom, naked, ready for Tilgard’s instructions.

  He had to do this perfectly.

  Luckily, Oma had been working with him, training him behind locked doors, after dark and his bedtime, for the last two years. He wrapped all the secrets she’d imbued him in like a cloak, protecting him from the shadows.

  The classroom was warm, and the window was shut, a feeble attempt to limit distractions. Lukas concentrated instead on the paper smells of the books, the musty chalk, and the new red ink Felix his tutor had used the night before when he’d sat and graded Lukas and Greta’s homework.

  Tilgard wore his traditional leather pants and jerkin, with rabbit fur tied to his waist and bacon treats in his pocket. He kept his head and jaw shaved, making his dark brown eyes seem like they bulged out and his nose and chin flattened. He didn’t stare at Lukas, didn’t try to challenge him. But he did stand in a position of command, and he demanded respect.

  Finally, Tilgard made a signal with his right hand.

  Sight hound.

  Lukas changed swiftly, calling on that aspect of Hamlin’s soul.

  “Good,” Tilgard said, tossing him a bacon treat.

  Lukas knew he’d done it perfectly, and that he now looked like Da, a champion gray-and-white greyhound. His head was diamond shaped, his body long and lean.

  But the form didn’t feel right. His jaw wasn’t strong enough, and his hind legs weren’t as powerful as Hamlin’s.

  Lukas stood still and proud as he waited for the next instruction.

  Tilgard gave him a mixed signal, sight with one hand and sound with the other.

  Lukas and Hamlin wagged their tail once and flowed in
to the shape of a Rhodesian Ridgeback.

  This shape felt almost right. His chest was broad and powerful, and his nose was large, able to catch more scents. He liked the ridge that ran down his back as well, knowing that when he was older, he could choose this shape as a hound warrior, and the ridge would become armored spikes.

  But this form wasn’t completely right either. His eyesight, while strong, wasn’t as keen, and in this shape, while he was fast, he wasn’t fast enough.

  “Good, good,” Tilgard said. Then he made one last sign, a questioning sign, meaning Lukas could take whatever form he wanted.

  Generally, the final shape of the three forms that all royalty had to practice was their natural dog shape, what their true hound soul looked like.

  Oma had prepared Lukas for this as well.

  Lukas called on Hamlin to help. This had to be perfect, too.

  With a great shake, Lukas shrank down, more and more, until he was a compact little black Scottish terrier.

  Tilgard still told him that he was good.

  Lukas knew he had the form correct—almond eyes, perky ears, long silky coat. This shape wasn’t right, either, though it was the best compromise he and Hamlin could find. It was comfortable enough, with strong legs, a keen nose, and far-seeing eyes. It felt almost like Hamlin’s natural form, just with all his senses dimmed.

  Except his intelligence. Lukas and Hamlin were both sharp and aware as a Scottie dog, more than any other.

  Tilgard gave the next command: Change back into human.

  Lukas sat down and looked expectantly at the hound master, as if he should get a treat. He tried to contain his excitement at the challenge.

  After all the training, the weeks of secret study with Oma, Lukas was finally putting their plans into motion.

  Tilgard gave the hand signal again, this time with the spoken command, “Verwandele!”

  Lukas swallowed. Calm, calm, calm. He made himself sit up on his hind legs, as if he’d confused the signal and was supposed to beg.

  “Nein,” Tilgard said.

  Lukas stayed on his hind legs and tilted his head to one side, fighting the urge to obey.