Guardian Hound (7 page)

Why did Oma sound so sad at that? Lukas twisted in her lap, leaning up to lick at her nose.

Oma put her hands around Lukas' head and looked deeply into his eyes. “I'm only doing this because I must,” she said almost soundlessly. “Believe me.”

Lukas didn't know why she was so worried.

Hamlin didn't either, but he would guard them both and make sure nothing bad happened.

# # #

The potion stank of dank seaweed and bitter, early roots. Without being told, Hamlin memorized the signature, teasing apart the components so they'd always be wary of them.

Though Oma had added good meat broth, Lukas had a hard time lapping it up. The bitter taste curled around his tongue, slimy and oily, and even the large bowl of water that he lapped up next couldn't chase it away.

By the time Lukas finished the water, his little Scottish terrier body could barely stand. The room moved, even when he kept perfectly still, the floor tilting up.

“Sleep now, good boy, sleep,” Oma crooned.

Hamlin rose up to guard them, and Lukas slipped into the comforting dark.

For the first time since he'd taken dog shape, Lukas dreamed of the shadows that night. He stood alone and human in his room, grateful to be a boy again, to stand and stretch. He could reach his bed without jumping, and wear clothes again.

Then the shadows attacked. Buzzing like gnats, stinging like nettles, they tried to invade him. He had to keep his mouth shut or they'd crawl inside him, and he had to breathe shallowly as well. There was no place he could go and hide; he couldn't outrun them, not in human form. They stole his life as he stood there, making him feel tired and old.

They talked to him, in the dream, told him lies. If only he'd let them in, just have a part of him, just a little. It would all be fine. They'd stop hurting him, and they'd never hurt anyone else, either.

But he knew that if he let them in, they'd take over not just him, but all the hounds, then all the world, turning everything dark and stripping away all the laughter and joy.

As soon as Lukas shrank back down to a little Scottie dog, the shadows left him alone. He shook them off and left, looking for Oma.

But the shadows were already in the castle, in every corner of the court, hazing the tall ceilings and staining the windows. Even the garden and the woods were infected with noxious mushrooms and web-like vines. Only after Lukas had squeezed through a hole under the wall and run away did the shadows leave him alone.

Lukas didn't really wake up the next morning. He knew he slept, but it was a comfortable, easy sleep. He sensed Hamlin was near, standing guard over them.

At noon, Lukas rose, seeing out of their shared eyes only for a minute or two before slipping back down into darkness.

At midnight, Lukas rose again. Like the last time, it was only for a short while, though it was long enough for him to wonder briefly if this was what it was like for Hamlin before sleep claimed him again.

The next day, Lukas woke at noon, then at midnight again. But this time, when Lukas rose up, Oma and a stranger sat before him. “Rudi will keep you safe,” Oma said, over and over again.

Lukas nodded, catching a quick glance of the man. He had silver hair standing all on end, bushy eyebrows over dark eyes, a solid chin with a cleft in it, and a ready smile.

“I'll guard you with my life, Prince,” Rudi said quickly.

Lukas nodded again before he went back down.

He woke next in a tight, closed-in space. A gate was immediately in front of his nose.

A crate.

But he smelled Rudi nearby. Peering through the slats in the side, he found Rudi sitting beside him.

Hamlin showed Lukas the crowds and the long passage they'd come through, how Rudi had more than seat, so Lukas was here and not on the floor.

Lukas knew from movies he'd seen that they were flying somewhere, far from the court.

Safe.

Before Lukas could be sad that he wasn't really awake for his first plane ride, he fell back asleep.

Lukas kept track of the days and the times he was awake better than Hamlin. His hound soul knew seasons; dividing them up into more pieces was a human thing. So Lukas knew that it was about two weeks before the potion started to wear off and he began to be awake longer than just a few minutes. It took almost two months before Lukas felt more like himself and could be awake for most of the day.

Rudi lived in a rambling house, all one story, with a large grassy yard that sloped up a small hill. The fence was high enough that even Hamlin would have problems jumping it. But there were many trees, squirrels, and birds. Lukas spent as much time outside as he could outside, reveling in every scent the wind brought him.

Rudi did some kind of work on the computer, and sat in an office overlooking the backyard all day. But he stopped frequently to play with Lukas, throwing a ball or going for long rambling walks, often driving out of the city to reach the nearby woods. Lukas had his own soft bed and all the chew toys he could want.

It was the perfect life for a dog, but Lukas wasn't really a dog.

At night, Lukas took to prowling the house, guarding his territory, memorizing every scent so well he could run at full speed with his eyes closed from one room to the next—racing from the faint overlay of smoke from the fireplace in the living room, to the new-glue scent still attached to the dining room chairs, past the heady spices and rich coffee smells of the kitchen, into the metallic tang of Rudi's office, then back again.

One night, Lukas noticed that Rudi had left a magazine open on the coffee table. Lukas jumped up and realized that even in this form, he could read. It hurt his eyes a little, focusing on the small print, and he had to back up to see more clearly. But now he could keep track of what was going on in Germany beyond what he could catch on the radio and TV. Plus, it would pass the time on the long nights, when he missed his family and his home.

He didn't need Oma to tell him that he needed to be careful and always keep one ear cocked for Rudi, and that he needed to leave everything just as he'd found it.

Lukas waited another two months, scenting the air carefully every day and every night, making sure no hound or shadow was near, before he decided to try changing back into his human form, just for a break.

The night was quiet; only the occasional truck rumbled on the far-off highway. Rudi slept soundly and no neighbors were stirring.

Lukas stood behind the big elm tree in the backyard, hidden from the house and all the windows, before he finally let loose of his hound form.

It felt like stretching after a long night's sleep, standing up to his full height. His human form had grown, he realized, even though it had been only four months. He opened his arms to the night air, breathing deeply, his nose dull but his skin alive. The ground felt cold underneath his bare feet. How odd it was to wiggle his toes.

Then the shadows attacked.

Like in his dream, they buzzed around him like gnats, seeking to violate him. He shivered in shock, looking around the garden. Where had they come from, and so quickly? Neither he nor Hamlin had scented them at all.

Down, down
, Hamlin commanded.

With a last desperate stretch, Lukas obeyed, wrapping his arms across his chest as he shrank down, changing back into his Scottie dog form, shedding shadows with a final shake. Even the short attack had exhausted him, and he stood on trembling legs, panting.

Hamlin held their nose high in the air, untangling the scent of the shadows.

It was still a wet smell, sand and mold and ash, but something else threaded through the scent, something he'd only smelled once before but had sworn to remember.

It came to him slowly.

Oma. The potion he'd taken.

Now he knew why she'd looked so sad.

She'd cursed him with shadows so he'd never be able to change back to human form, not until she lifted it.

Why had she cursed him with the one thing that he was destined to destroy? Was it to make him more familiar with them? Or had they tricked her, somehow?

Deep inside, Lukas howled, shaking with anger and fear.

It was unfair. All of it.

Yet, all he could do was wait.

# # #

Lukas waited ten years before he received the first sign that his banishment was nearing an end.

Germany, 1970s to Eleven Years Ago

Rudi

Rudi waited, anxious and alone, in the magic practice room after Lady Metzler, the king's mother, had told the rest of the class they could go. He'd failed the latest test. Magic slipped through his fingers as if they were still paws. He couldn't hold on to any of it. He hoped he hadn't failed so badly he'd be sent home immediately instead of at the end of the summer. He'd already missed the big Fourth of July party at home, celebrating the United States bicentennial. To be sent there now, in disgrace…Rudi shivered.

His life couldn't get any worse.

The room smelled of rosemary, straw, twine, dried roses, and all the other boys from the hound clan, sent there for the summer to learn. It looked more like the chemistry lab at his high school back in Pennsylvania than what he'd imagined a room for learning magic looked like: It had porcelain sinks, stainless steel tables, and white cabinets with frosted glass doors lining the walls.

Magic had been nothing like his dreams, or his favorite books, like Andre Norton, Susan Cooper, or even Ray Bradbury. It was like trying to catch a single drop of oil in a boiling pot of water.

His dad had been so hopeful, sending Rudi back to Germany to stay with his aunt and uncle, be presented to the new king of the hound clan, and spend the summer learning. The new king wasn't that much older than Rudi, barely out of high school himself, but he'd looked so solemn sitting on the great stone throne in the court, with curly black hair and eyes bluer than the summer sky. The carved hounds on either side had looked more fierce than the king.

Lady Metzler came back in the classroom finally. She wore a fuzzy pink cardigan, tan slacks, and gold aviator glasses. She looked like a librarian, with wild black curls going gray and soft, and amber-colored eyes, not like one of the few humans in the world who not only could practice magic, but who had enough skill that she could teach it.

“Are you going to fail me?” Rudi asked breathlessly, then looked down, ashamed. His dad would smack him for showing no discipline.

“Of course. You have no magic whatsoever. If fact, you seem almost like anti-magic. Weaker charms and spells don't work on you,” Lady Metzler said dismissively. She walked over to her desk at the front of the room.

Rudi heard papers being shuffled, but he didn't look up from his feet. His sneakers still had mud around the edges from the forest earlier that afternoon, when the hound master, Klaus, and his new assistant, Tilgard, had laid scents between the trees for them to follow. He'd done well at that—like his dad, he was a scent hound; not a purebred, but from good fox terrier stock.

“Oh, don't look so sad, boy. There's good work for people without magic.”

Rudi nodded, then looked up. “So you aren't sending me back to the States?”

“If I had to send home every boy who fumbled a spell, there'd only be three or four students left.”

Rudi breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Is there something else you wanted?” he asked, suddenly realizing that Lady Metzler was staring at him.

“Are you good with math?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am.” While he enjoyed reading and getting lost in the worlds people created, he also loved the simple structure and clean dynamics of numbers. His dad was a banker, and claimed Rudi's head for numbers came from him.

“I may have use for a boy who's good with numbers and bad with magic,” the lady said.

“How can I be of service?” Rudi asked politely, remembering to stand up straight, at attention.

“Not yet. You're still young. You need to prove to me that you can excel at keeping secrets, beyond the recitations and just being a member of the hound clan.”

Rudi gulped. “Yes, ma'am.” The mother of the king was asking him to keep a secret? Greater than just hiding his hound soul from the every-day world? “I'll never tell anyone a single word you say to me,” he promised. No one had every asked him anything so important in all his sixteen years.

“You'll prove yourself later, son. For now, just keep this conversation between us. You can go.”

“Thank you, ma'am. You won't regret it. You can trust me.”

Rudi bounded from the room. He raced down the hall, grinning widely. Maybe she wanted him to be a spy, or act as a courier, or—

“Hey, Rudi,” Stefan asked, coming up to him. “You okay, man?”

Rudi ground to a halt.

He couldn't let anyone know anything.

“Yeah,” Rudi said, heaving a large sigh. “I failed the last test. Really blew it. But she isn't going to send me home,” he added. He figured that was a good enough lie to cover why he was happy after being asked to stay after class.

“Rudi, Rudi, Rudi,” Stefan said, punching his shoulder. “You just
gotta
relax, let the magic flow to you.”

“Is that how it is for you?” Rudi asked, throwing his arm over the shoulder of his friend as they walked down the hall. “All glowing lights and rainbows?”

Stefan tweaked Rudi in the ribs, making him shy away. “No, nothing like that hippie stuff. I can help you later, tonight, if you want.”

Rudi remembered that Lady Metzler had said it would be better if he was bad with magic. “
Naw
. Thanks, though. I'll just stick with what I know.”

Stefan laid his finger along his nose. “Tracking scents?”

“Yep,” Rudi said, nodding.

And keeping secrets.

# # #

Rudi did everything Lady Metzler asked of him: Studied math and the brand-new field of computers at college, signed up for the hound guard for two years to learn how to fight, then took a job at a small firm in Germany, where he learned about network security and hacking.

Their communication was always simple, but not direct: He'd write letters and postcards to her, telling her about his life, and she would write in return. They never said anything explicit, as if they both assumed someone else was reading every word.

Instead, Lady Metzler would ask about his computer classes, commenting on how they seemed to be the future for a bright young man, or telling him stories about her nephew who had just joined the guard and how much he'd learned, or mentioning that she'd heard about this company in Germany, and what a great opportunity it would be for an ambitious young man.

Only someone matching words with deeds would see just how she'd directed his life.

When Rudi moved from the firm in Germany to one in the US, the letters still came, but less frequently, now. When he mentioned going back to Germany for a visit, Lady Metzler said she thought she would be away, and he wouldn't be able to see her.

Rudi spent a sleepless night in his Austin, Texas, apartment, wondering if he'd done something wrong, if he'd disappointed her. But in a few months, her Christmas letter came, full of casual news with no messages, and he knew she was just keeping him at a distance.

Keeping Rudi hidden until she really needed him.

Based on her initial guidance, Rudi stayed in computer security, becoming a “white hat” hacker. If Lady Metzler ever needed to communicate with him in secret electronically, he was prepared.

However, she never gave any indication of that, so they merely stayed pen-pals.

After decades of occasional cards and letters, the Christmas after the prince, Lukas, had been presented to the court as a full member of the hound clan, Lady Metzler mentioned that she hadn't seen Rudi in so long and that it might be nice if he came to visit.

Dutifully, Rudi arranged for a two-week vacation that spring, to see his relatives in Germany as well as visit the court.

There had always been a guardhouse just past the edge of the woods on the single road into the castle. However, when Rudi had been spent time in the hound guard, it had been a primitive hut with a plain wooden gate that opened and shut manually.

Now, it still looked like a shed, but Rudi could smell that it was reinforced with concrete and steel. There were sensors in the road, and cameras, too. A quick glance inside showed computers and monitors displaying live footage from earlier down the road and further up it as well.

Nothing could replace the guard, though: The finest noses had always been selected for the hut. Rudi knew they could easily trace his path there, from the hotel he'd stayed at the night before, possibly the airports he'd passed through, as well as what part of the States he'd come from.

He easily got out of his car, stretching as he did so. “Rudolf Von
DeWhite
,” he introduced himself, handing over his passport to the first guard while his partner sniffed around the car.

The guard merely nodded, using a handheld scanner across Rudi's passport. It was real; Rudi didn't have to travel anonymously to the court. But he always kept other papers, with other names, just in case.

The guards wore a simple white and black security outfit, with his last name, “Fuchs,” embroidered in red on the right. Rudi remembered laughing about his uniform, calling it “stripper clothes” because they were deliberately made to tear off so a hound could change and not get his legs caught in his underwear.

“Just visiting?” Fuchs asked, handing back Rudi's passport.

“Yes. It's been, twenty, twenty-five years since I was here last? When I was in the guard,” Rudi added with a grin.

“Twenty-seven,” the guard said, glancing at his scanner.

“Ah, thank you,” Rudi said, a little taken aback that they kept such complete records now. The court hadn't always been so concerned with security. Had something happened?

The guard nodded and stepped back, saying, “Have a pleasant visit.”

Rudi slid back into his rental car and drove slowly up the steep hill to the castle. It looked the same as it had, with brilliant green grass running up to it, immaculately trimmed. Tulips, crocuses, and daffodils bloomed in artful disarray along the walk. Beautiful Japanese maples, slender Cyprus, and hearty yews stood guard near the door.

The castle itself was solid gray stone, a Victorian fantasy of turrets and crenellations, the windows too plentiful and wide to provide adequate medieval protection. More cameras were mounted high on the walls, along with heat and motion sensors.

Was all that high-tech security necessary? Didn't the clan have the best senses to detect when something was wrong?

A bored young woman in a severe black dress with her hair pulled back in an equally severe bun looked up Rudi's name on her laptop, then showed him to one of the small tea rooms on the second floor, overlooking the formal garden in the back, telling him to wait for Lady Metzler there.

The room was done in different shades of cream and white, with subtle roses blooming in the wallpaper, the motif repeated in the moldings along the fifteen foot ceilings. The furniture was all heavy, old, and painted white, with gold-, white-, and beige-striped cushions. Outside, Rudi was glad to see that the squares of different grass were still there in the first garden. He'd always loved them as a boy.

Lady Metzler's scent proceeded her: Rudi recognized her familiar lavender soap, as well as the slightly bitter, chemical smell he remembered from her classroom. She wore a dark blue cardigan over black dress slacks, her curls all gray now, her eyes still amber brown.
 

“My lady,” Rudi said, taking her hand and bowing over it.

“Rudolf. You have grown into a handsome one,” she said, looking him over.

“Thank you,” he said politely. He knew he was handsome, and one of his girlfriends had said he looked like George Clooney with his salt-and-pepper hair, cleft chin, and perpetually single air.

“You never married, did you?” Lady Metzler asked as Rudi pulled a chair out for her.

“No, ma'am,” he said. He'd never found anyone he'd loved enough that he even felt tempted to share his secrets.

She merely nodded. “I've asked my grandson to stop by after his lessons this afternoon.”

“I'll be honored to meet him,” Rudi said, sitting down himself.

A young man wearing a plain black suit came in the room, carrying a tray with a rose and white china tea pot, matching cups and saucers, cream and sugar, as well as a cut crystal decanter full of dark apple brandy with fine glass snifters.

Rudi served them both tea to start. They talked of his work, his father, and his uncles. He listened while Lady Metzler told him about her most recent classes, laughing about the boys, though assuring him that none has been as bad a student as he had been.

They reminisced as if they were old friends, Rudi noticed, though they never had been. He wondered if the performance was for the cameras not so hidden in the corners, or if there was some other reason they pretended to be closer than they were.

After they finished their tea, but before they started the brandy, a young boy came in. He looked at Rudi warily, his gaze strangely assessing and more adult than a six-year-old boy's. He had the same black hair his father had had when he'd been a boy, the same startling blue eyes, the same very solemn air.

“Lukas, I want you to meet Rudolf Von
DeWhite
,” Lady Metzler said, taking the boy's hand. “He's a friend.”

The boy breathed in deeply, taking in Rudi's scent.

Rudi did the same. The boy didn't have the milky scent of a puppy, or even a new dog. He smelled like a grizzled hound, strong and mature.

“It is a pleasure to know you,” Rudi said, curious.

“And you,” Lukas said with a nod.

“Now, go play,” Lady Metzler said, squeezing the boy's hand.

Lukas looked at her quizzically before he grinned and bounded off, finally acting like the boy he was.

“I worry about him,” Lady Metzler said, picking up a snifter.

Rudi took the hint and poured her a finger's worth of brandy, then himself. “What are you worried about?” he asked.

“He's different. Not a pure sight hound, like his father.”