Shadowlands (31 page)

“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, glancing 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
.

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.”