Guardian Hound (26 page)

Both halves quivered for a moment. Would they rejoin? But no, both halves tumbled to the ground, like a sand castle melting under a great wave. A spring wind skirted across the field, tossing the remaining shadows away like dry ash.

The knight paused, taking a deep breath and lowering his sword to the ground. He didn't remove his helmet, but now Lukas remembered the knight. They rushed forward, and the knight leaned down to pat their head.

Golden fields and a village made of clay. Older times before the rise of industrial machines. Hamlin and the knight had saved each other in battle so many times, then died together, protecting elders from the hound clan and promising to always do so.

Hamlin gave one last happy bark, seeing his true master again, before the knight faded away, dissolving into the mist.

Lukas shook himself, finding himself suddenly standing on two feet. He wrapped his soul around Hamlin's, feeling the weight of his sorrow. No matter how close Lukas and Hamlin were, his old master still had a special place in Hamlin's heart.

Then Lukas hurried over to his wet clothes, drew on his pants and top, and stepped into his boots before approaching the others.

They all stood, now. They looked as grim as they had the night before. Sally hid her face in Peter's chest, Virmal had his arm around Harita, while Rudi supported both Mei Ling and Ariel.

“You did it,” Lukas told them breathlessly. “You defeated the shadows.”

Rudi raised his head and nodded. “We did.” He sighed, exhausted. “Are you all right? Is that blood?”

Lukas turned away guiltily, wiping at his mouth. He looked over where the body of the viper warrior had been.

The spot was empty now, but like Rudi, Lukas could still smell the blood.

“We all fought demons tonight,” Mei Ling said. “The cost is always high.”

Lukas wondered what price the others had paid, because the group shuddered as one.

“Thank you,” Lukas said. “This couldn't have happened without you. And your sacrifice.”

“Are they gone?” Ariel asked, sounding weary. “I mean, really gone?”

Lukas asked Hamlin, but he didn't know. “I think so,” Lukas finally said. That had been how his dreams had always foretold it. The knight defeated the shadows, and the world was safe.

“But we'll see.”

Seattle and Elsewhere, Present Day

Sally

The nightmare started small. Sally was trying to clean her dad's old place—the shack back in Minnesota. Heavy clouds gathered across the sky, and the building shook from the strength of the wind. Grit filtered through the gaps around the windows until a fine layer of black dust caked over the bright sunflower paintings hanging on the opposite wall.

Plugging the gaps didn't stop the dirt. For every hole Sally filled, two more opened.

The filth covered the couch where Dad had read her stories, then crept up along the books until nothing clean remained. Sally stood paralyzed in the center of the room while the black dirt swirled around her, taking the shape of a nameless shadow that would swallow her soul alive.

Sally woke up sweating, her heart beating out of her chest, her stomach rolling with nausea. She yanked back the soft and suddenly claustrophobic sheets. The streetlight outside shone against the window shade. No cars drove by, and no one stirred in the apartment above hers. She did hear the kitchen tap turn on and off.

Peter came into their bedroom as Sally pushed herself up, her head light while her skin felt scratchy and sweaty. He carried a glass of water. “Was it a nightmare?” he asked, sitting down and handing her the glass.

Sally nodded. She took the heavy glass in both hands and sipped the cool water, clearing away the memory of the dust from her mouth.

“I wasn't sure. You just grew…still,” Peter said. “I'll wake you, next time,” he assured her, sliding his arm over her shoulder and drawing her closer.

Sally let her weight rest against him, the glass heavy and cold in her hands while Peter was warm and solid at her side.

“It will happen again,” Sally warned.

Peter kissed the top of her head. “And I'll be here.”

Sally nodded, taking another sip of water. “I'll be here for your nightmares, too,” she said.

Peter laughed silently, his chest moving against her shoulder. “Think we'll ever sleep through the night?”

“Just wait ‘til we have kids,” Sally said. “Then the night terrors will really begin.”

“Kids?” Peter asked softly after a long pause.

Sally took a last sip of water and placed it on the night table before curling back up in Peter's arms. “I know we've had such a whirlwind romance we haven't really talked about it—but yeah. Kids. I'd like to have a couple, at least. You?” Sally kept her tone casual, but her stomach was unsettled by more than just the nightmare now.

“You want to have kids. Though you know one of them may turn out like me?” Peter asked.

Sally pushed herself up so she could look Peter in the face. “Of course I'd love to have a kid who's clan. A raven warrior, brave and true like his father. Who will save the world the next time it needs saving.”

Peter leaned forward and rested his forehead against Sally's. “If our kid is even half as strong as you are, the world will never be in serious danger.”

Sally nodded and yawned.

“Think you can get back to sleep?” Peter asked, kissing her softly.

Sally kissed him back, a little more intently. “Or we could practice. The kid-making part. Give me better memories of tonight.” The nightmare had already faded, but Sally knew it would return eventually, if not that night, then some other time.

“As you wish, my love,” Peter said, drawing her closer.

For the rest of the night, any shadows that remained were soft and kind to the young couple.

Ariel

Ariel dreamed she was back on the sodden field, the stupid Seattle rain turning her dreads into heavy, wet ropes. Even through her bike leathers, her knees were cold and wet, and ached after pressing into the hard ground.

The beings Ariel held onto on both sides wavered, like a campfire in a strong wind, transforming into a snarling dog on one side and a vicious tiger on the other.

“Go to Hell,” Ariel told the shadows. “You
ain't
real.”

The cold was real. As was the wet, and the rain, and the solid press of Sally's head against her own, the shivering warmth of the tiger kin pressed along one side, the hound who smelled yummy and was oh-so-single on the other.

Ariel loaned her sight as best she could to the others. While Sally sang, hummed, and kept them together, kept them human, Ariel fought the illusions the shadows cast: the shifting forms, the rising tide of filth, the constant barrage of
not good enough, not smart enough, not strong enough, too poor, too black, too female, too Southern
.

Those last few were the hardest. Ariel reminded herself that she was there, kneeling on that hard ground, chosen by destiny, and she was enough.

They were enough.

But the nightmare continued, and one by one, Ariel's companions fell.

Alone, she wasn't enough.

Morning brought more of that damn Seattle rain. But it was real, and Ariel was not trapped in some nightmare of filth.

Maybe she'd stay. She knew some of the boar clan lived in eastern Washington, out toward Yakima—vineyard workers, of course. Her people were good with the earth. And food and wine, which Seattle had in abundance.

Maybe she could stay for a while.

Better than going it alone, at least for now.

Virmal

“What do you mean, with everyone so sick?” Virmal asked his mother over Skype. The hotel Wi-Fi had been awful before Rudi had loaned him a booster, as well as installed some encryption software on his computer. However, his mother's expression kept freezing, the video connection lagging badly.

“This morning, early, at least half the temple fell ill,” Mama continued. Her black hair was pulled back into a bun, her jewelry was the best quality, and her sari was finely made out of blue silk. However, her perfect makeup couldn't hide how pale she looked, and her mouth kept pulling into a thin, disapproving line.

“What is it, you think?” Virmal asked.

Harita stood behind him and reached out to squeeze his shoulder, loaning him her strength, as always.

“No one knows.” Mama's face froze again, her eyes wide and scared. “At least half the protection charms for the temple burned out last night as well. And everyone's complaining that their magic feels…weak.”

“We will come as soon as we can,” Harita assured their mother.

Virmal looked up at his sister, surprised. Why were they going to India? He had to get back to Germany, to school. And Harita was due back at the hound court.

“We've both been studying medicine, for all the clans,” Harita reminded him. “Maybe we can help.”

They said their goodbyes quickly, then Virmal turned to face Harita. “You think it's the shadows, don't you? Or the absence of them. That's suddenly made half the court sick and weak.”

“Of course!” Harita said, her eyes sparkling as brightly as the rhinestones in her bright orange sari. “We need to go. To help them recover. Show them another way.”

“It won't be safe,” Virmal felt obligated to point out. “They'll be upset. Angry. More likely to challenge anyone new. They might choose fights with you because they think they can.” He flexed his left hand, fire burning along the old scar he'd received defending Harita when they'd first returned to India. Had the wound been infected with shadows, all those years ago? Was that why it had never completely healed?

Harita sobered. “You're right.” She paused, then shook her head. “But we have to. If we have the chance, we have to help them rebuild, learn how to be strong without the shadows.”

“Then we'll go,” Virmal said, though part of him wanted to run the opposite direction. Not because there was trouble for him, no—but because he didn't know how he was going to protect Harita.

But being a tiger warrior had never been about being safe.

And anyone who hurt his sister would have to answer to him.

Hurt one, hurt us all.

Rudi

Rudi shut down his email, turned off his monitor, and pushed back from his desk. He was going to have to arrange a Skype call for Lukas, or another trip to Germany.

Lady Metzler had woken up and wanted to talk to Lukas.

Rudi paced his office agitated. Lady Metzler had played such a huge role throughout his life, directing him, giving him purpose.

She'd trusted him with her grandson, something he would forever be grateful for.

However, she'd also cursed Lukas, forced him to stay in hound form for ten years.

No matter how Rudi tried, he couldn't forgive her for that.

Rudi's hound soul pressed closer. The familiar scent of Lukas' disguise, Pixie, rose up, the tiny black dog with such a huge heart, brave beyond knowing, with large, soulful eyes.

Pack
, his hound soul reminded him.
Play?

Rudi had only changed when he'd absolutely needed to during the decade he'd taken care of the prince. He'd always needed to be able to plan, to be human.

But now—Lukas could make his own decisions. He was no longer trapped and cursed.

Rudi would have to let Lukas go, now, back to Germany, though his hound soul identified Lukas as not only pack, but home.

Soft sun filtered through the spring clouds, shadows of leaves dappling his floor. Rudi would miss this place when they left. It had been more of a home than anywhere else they'd stayed.

Still. Lukas needed to be told about his grandmother and given the choice about what he wanted to do, where he wanted to go, how he wanted to live. The choice had been taken from him before, and Rudi was determined to give it back to him.

Rudi opened the door to his study and found Lukas there, hovering.

“What's wrong?” Lukas blurted out.

The boy's face was still pale from the fight the previous night. He needed a haircut, too—his black curls fell regularly into his eyes, hiding the searing blue.

“Nothing's wrong,” Rudi said firmly. He made himself smile. “There's good news, actually.”

“Then why do you smell so worried?” Lukas asked, letting Rudi lead him to the living room.

Rudi sat down on the old, comfortable couch, leaning forward, pressing his palms together. “Lady Metzler, your grandmother, is awake. She's asking for you.”

Lukas gave a whole body shudder. “We should go see her,” he said, sounding as enthusiastic as if announcing he should go to his own funeral.

“You don't have to,” Rudi said. How could he help Lukas through this? “We could just set up a phone call. Or Skype.”

Lukas nodded. “And Greta?”

Now Rudi gave a real smile. “She's better as well.”

“Maybe we'll go visit this summer,” Lukas finally said.

Relief settled over Rudi. “You want to stay? Here? In Seattle?”

“Duh,” Lukas said, sounding every bit the teenager he was. “I like it here. I want to settle for a while. Everything else is new.”

“Good, good,” Rudi said, nodding. “I like it here, too.”

Lukas cocked his head to the side and looked at Rudi for a long moment. “You know what else we're going to do? Become a two-dog family.”

“Huh?” Rudi asked, not understanding.

“I know you rarely changed when you were looking after me,” Lukas hurriedly explained. “So now, let me take care of you. I'd like to meet your hound soul,” he added shyly.

Rudi's hound soul pressed hard against him, sending images and scents and roots to chase along and the wind to race against blowing through his fur and even more scents to follow.

“I'd like that, too,” Rudi said, standing.

It was yet another way Rudi could pay back the joy the prince had always brought to him. Plus, it was yet another way to push the battles from the previous days into the past. Lukas' smile had returned that morning, but sorrow still tugged at the ends of it.

And no one could express the pure joy of being with the boy like a hound.

Lukas

Lukas leaned back on the hard wooden bench, his arms spread wide and his eyes
slitted
against the sun.
Gauner
, the name Rudi had given his hound form, a gray-and-white fox terrier with curly hair, raced from one end of the open dog park to the other with his three pals, other dogs who they'd just met, also here to play.

The sun soaked into Lukas' bones, filling him with light, pushing into those places where there'd only been shadows before. When they went home, Lukas knew the light would dribble out, but maybe a little would remain, a tiny bit more than what he'd started with that day. Maybe, day by day, he'd fill up, slowly, until all the black was gone.

Hamlin pressed against Lukas, as if he were stretched out all along his side. Hamlin soaked up the sun as well, both of them resting, recovering from their battle.

Tomorrow, Lukas might talk to Oma. Or he might not. Rudi would never pressure him about it. He'd already helped Lukas set up filters for his email and his phone, so he wouldn't get pressured about it from anyone else either.

Rudi also wouldn't make any decisions for Lukas. Not anymore.

Gauner
gave a happy yip and bounded over to where Lukas sat, putting his front paws on the bench, his little pink tongue out and panting.

Lukas lazily reached over and scratched
Gauner's
neck, getting a strong tail wag in response.

Yes, there was joy in being a hound. Changing still scared him, but Hamlin was there, and Rudi as well.

“You ready?” Lukas asked.

The hound looked at Lukas, then over his shoulder. He leaped back into the park, racing to greet the newest dog just coming in.

“Guess not.” Lukas settled back against the bench. The spring winds played with his hair, pushing against his jacket, carrying the first scents of cherry blossoms.

Later that night, Lukas would cook with Rudi again, gaining more of that purely human skill. Eventually, he'd have to call Oma. He wanted to learn more about the other guardian hounds, the shadows, maybe even Hamlin's knight.