Seattle, Present Day
Lukas
Lukas waited impatiently for someone, anyone, to come back and tell him what had happened.
If the apartment had felt too small before, now Lukas paced from room to room as if it were a cage: kitchen, dining room—looping around the table in the center—to the TV cabinet in the living room, then the couch, into and out of the bedroom, to the front door, then back to the kitchen again. His nails clicked on the hardwood floors. He would bend down to sniff the air under the door leading to the hall, just for some sort of distraction.
Every time Lukas heard someone out in the hallway, he raced to the door to wait, disappointed when they didn’t smell familiar and didn’t stop.
Finally, he heard a key in the lock and smelled Sally and Peter outside.
“Hi,” Sally said, seeing Lukas when she opened the door. She stood awkwardly in the vestibule, Peter crowding in behind her.
“Hey,” Peter said. He glanced at Sally, then transformed slightly, his eyes going raven-dark.
The hackles stood up on Lukas’ neck.
They knew. They both knew that he was more than just an odd dog.
Of course they knew. Rudi’s scent still lingered, subtly, on Peter, though it was several days old.
Lukas peered curiously at the birdman. What did he see? Could he, a raven, see anything? Or did the old curse still work?
“Rudi said your name was Lukas,” Sally said quietly.
Lukas shook his head sharply.
“No,” Peter squawked, his voice mixed and harsh. “That’s his human name. Not his hound soul.”
Lukas gave a yip. Exactly right. He walked closer to Peter, stood up on his hind legs, and rested one paw on Peter’s knee. What did he see?
“You just look like a dog,” Peter told him. “I can’t see anything special or different about you.”
Lukas nodded. Good. It was one of the things that had kept him hidden all these years: That to humans, as well as other clans, he appeared to be just a simple animal. The hound clan knew the scent of this shape, but they’d never found him. Other dogs knew the difference, but they were the only ones.
Were ravens the same? Did other birds sense the difference?
“I don’t know what to call you,” Sally said, breaking in, her voice sounding strained. “And I don’t know what to do with you.”
Lukas didn’t know what he could do to comfort Sally. He walked over to her and butted his head against her calves, then sat back and looked up at her.
“I know you’re more than just a dog,” Sally said quietly. “I hope I get to meet your human soul, someday.”
Lukas nodded. He hoped that time would come soon.
“There isn’t anything we can do for now,” Peter said, softly. “Rudi’s gone off to your court, and we’re all waiting to hear from him.” Then he smiled. “Want to hear about the challenge and Ravens’ Hall?”
Lukas nodded and led the way into the living room. He sat down, then lay down, his head on his paws.
Listening to stories was as good a way to wait as his constant pacing.
Because that’s what Lukas still had to do: Wait, like he’d always waited.
# # #
The next afternoon, Lukas was at the door an instant before someone knocked.
It was Rudi, and something—no, someone else.
Sally opened the door. Lukas barged past Rudi to see who traveled with him.
It was a small Asian woman, who smelled of silk and scales—the scales of the knight Lukas had dreamed of, that Sally and Peter were also a part of. Those scales made the knight’s armor solid and strong.
He gave a delighted yip, sitting up on his hind legs so maybe she would offer her hand to him and he could better take in her scent.
The Asian woman raised a single eyebrow. “This? This is the hound prince?”
She sounded so disappointed. Lukas whined, dropping down to all fours, his ears and tail drooping.
No, he could show her. He gave another bark, turned, and walked back into the apartment.
“That’s just his disguise,” Rudi explained as he followed, closing the door. “It isn’t his true form. I think it’s part of what’s kept him safe.”
Lukas nodded. Yes.
But he was safe here, with these people. The heart and the feathers and the scales. Safe enough for a while.
Lukas turned in the middle of the living room and faced them. He gave a great shake, then Hamlin came forth.
Hamlin slowed down the process this time, enough so Lukas was aware of how he grew.
And grew.
Finally, Hamlin reached his full height. His head was easily level with Rudi’s chest, lower than that with Peter, and he could almost look the Asian woman in the eye.
“This is the prince?” the woman asked, less disappointed now.
Lukas stood tall and proud.
“His true hound soul, yes,” Rudi said.
“I am Mei Ling Wang,” the Asian woman finally introduced herself.
“He’s been cursed,” Rudi said softly. “When he tries to take human form—shadows attack.”
“Shadows?” Sally asked sharply. “Like that shadow creature who tried to attack me?” she said, addressing Lukas.
He nodded. Not exactly the same, but yes, that thing had been tainted with shadows.
“I went to Germany, to the hound court, to try to get the curse reversed.” Rudi turned and stared at Lukas. “I’m sorry, Prince. I failed.”
Lukas tried to hold himself absolutely still, not to let his ears droop or his tail fall. He didn’t want anyone to know how disappointed he was. He’d thought it was time. That Oma would finally remove her spell, and let him be human again.
“Lady Metzler, his grandmother, couldn’t help,” Rudi explained.
Why couldn’t she help? How much longer did Lukas have to wait?
“She’s infected. With shadows,” Mei Ling said, disgusted.
A sharp ridge of fear ran down the line of his back and his hackles rose. Oma was lost to the shadows? Was he stuck in hound form forever?
How long had she been infected with the shadows? Was that why she’d cursed him with them, so long ago?
“It is a curse? Some spell? That holds you?” Mei Ling asked.
Rudi said, “Yes,” while Lukas nodded.
“I know someone. Here. Who may help,” Mei Ling said, considering.
Lukas walked up to her, hopeful. Maybe this was why he’d dreamed of her, so long ago. Maybe not only was she part of the knight, but part of the cure.
“If I help you with this, you will help me with the shadows, yes?” Mei Ling bargained.
Lukas nodded without hesitation.
“Prince—” Rudi started, then sighed.
“Good,” Mei Ling said, satisfied. “We go see him now.” She looked critically at Lukas, then waved her hand and said, “Smaller, please.”
Lukas looked from Mei Ling to Rudi, who merely shrugged and said, “You’ll never fit in my car like this.”
In the blink of an eye, Lukas transformed back down into a Scottish terrier.
Peter gave a cawing laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone transform that fast.”
“Me neither,” Rudi said thoughtfully.
Was that something else Lukas should have kept secret? Oma had never said anything. Did he need to hide this ability? There was no longer anyone to ask, not if Oma had been taken by the shadows.
Maybe he could free her, though he’d never been able to save anyone in his dreams.
Resolutely, Lukas walked to the door, then looked back at everyone still just standing there. He gave an impatient bark.
“Yes, Prince, coming,” Rudi said with a grin. “Let’s see if we can make you whole.”
# # #
Peter and Sally stayed behind—Peter didn’t want to risk Sally, if there would be any danger. Lukas didn’t blame him. He didn’t want any risk coming to Sally—or Peter, or Mei Ling, for that matter. They were in enough danger from the shadows already.
Rudi drove his little electric sedan, with Mei Ling in the passenger seat and Lukas delegated to the backseat. He tried not to resent it—Mei Ling had to give Rudi directions, but she didn’t know exactly where she was going. She kept making Rudi stop so she could roll down the window and smell the air.
Lukas tried to follow the scent Mei Ling did, teasing apart all the smells of the International District: overly sweet incense, deep-fried pork, roasted barley tea, cheap plastic goods, and expensive silks.
Finally, Lukas caught a trace of the bitter chemical scent he associated with Oma and her magic. He gave a quiet yip when he scented it a second time.
Mei Ling turned in her seat and smiled at him. “Yes, that scent. You have a good nose. Better than mine, I think.”
Of course he did. He was from the hound clan.
Mei Ling’s smile increased. “But my teeth are sharper.”
Lukas cocked his head to the side. He’d been thinking Mei Ling was from the viper clan. But no, she was from the crocodile clan. He nodded, slowly. Yes, her teeth were very sharp and strong. He could see that now. A shadowy twin imposed itself on her form for a moment, with golden eyes, a long snout, sharp claws, and wicked teeth. She was a fierce warrior, indeed.
Rudi had the scent now as well, and found a place to park in a nearby lot. Mei Ling led the way down the cracked sidewalk to a small side street. They passed a market with ducks hanging in the window, spiced red and smelling smoked; then past a merchant selling dusty tea that made Lukas wrinkle his nose; then finally to a “massage” studio, the smell of semen and baby oil wafting from the open door along with soft Asian Muzak.
Rudi didn’t say anything, but Lukas knew he didn’t approve.
Mei Ling looked at Rudi curiously as they passed through a side door. “You feel nothing?” she asked.
Rudi shook his head, then gave her a wolfish grin. “Not my style.”
“Curious,” she replied. She led them down a service hall and past the business doors to a narrow, dark staircase in the back. A rope hung across it, with a sign: “No entrance.”
Mei Ling ignored it and they climbed to the top, third story. The walls up here were painted gray, dingy with age. The floor was wood that would have been pretty if it had been restored; now, however, it was streaked with gouges and stinky black stains, and was sticky along the edges.
The smell of age and decay overlay everything. However, underneath it all, Lukas tracked that thread of magic.
They stopped at a door didn’t look like a door: It looked like a large, eight-sided wood carving, covered in black painted characters. A black mirror that didn’t reflect anything bulged in the center.
“What is that?” Rudi asked, pointing to it.
“Nothing. Just a test.” Mei Ling looked from Rudi to Lukas. “I guess you’re not demons,” she said with a small smile.
Demons? Really? The hound clan had no tales of hunting demons. Lukas would have to remember to ask later.
Mei Ling pulled open the door, struggling with its weight. The tiny room she led them into had wood cabinets with clear glass doors crowding against every wall from floor to ceiling. A small red couch that stank of sweat crouched in the center of the room.
A large man, bald, with bulbous eyes, a fat nose, and ears that stuck out like the handles on a jar, sat in the corner behind a tiny desk, more like a black, skinny table. He wore a stained white robe and smelled like cheap wine.
But his eyes were sharp, and he greeted Mei Ling by name.
They spoke rapid-fire in some language—Mandarin? Cantonese?
Lukas didn’t try to follow. Instead, he looked around the room. Glass jars filled with herbs and Asian medicine, pungent and dried, filled all the shelves.
The smell of magic came from the ceiling, above the couch. A round, golden lamp hung there. Lukas couldn’t see anything about it, but it smelled…different. Was it enchanted, somehow?
“No,” Mei Ling said firmly. “You may not.” She turned to Rudi and asked, “Your teeth will not grow back, correct?”
“They won’t,” Rudi confirmed. “Why?”
“Albert wants one from one of the hound clan for payment,” she replied.
“What about a nail?” Albert asked, addressing them with a startling pure British accent. “Nails grow back, don’t they?”
“You’re not pulling a nail,” Mei Ling growled. “Clipping only. You just want some blood.”
Albert shrugged. “Didn’t hurt to ask.”
“Why do you want it?” Rudi asked.
“Albert wants one of my scales for his concoctions,” Mei Ling replied for him. “Which I will pay. But if you ever consider using it in a spell against me, I will hunt you down and eat you.”
Lukas knew she wasn’t kidding.
“I’d never turn against you, madam,” Albert assured her.
“You lie,” Mei Ling said with the sweetest smile. “You’d sell your mother if you saw enough profit. But I can track you, anywhere you go. And I will.”
“Understood,” Albert said.
Mei Ling turned to look at Lukas. “And a clipping of your nails.”
“He can have mine,” Rudi said, stepping forward.
Lukas shook his head. There was no need for Rudi to try to protect him like that.
“He’s the one who’s cursed,” Albert pointed out.
“You’re going to use these in other potions or spells, right?” Rudi guessed.
Albert nodded cautiously.
“Like with her, I’ll come after you if you try to use it against me. And I’ll bring a pack,” Rudi added with a wolfish grin. “But you should use mine, not his. Mine may be more interesting to you.”
“Really? Why?” Albert asked, obviously intrigued.
Lukas was also curious. Rudi was just…Rudi. What did he have that was special about him?
Rudi took a breath, paused, then pushed forward. “I’m bad with magic. Very bad. So bad that often simple spells don’t work on me.”
“Ah, that’s why the charms downstairs didn’t make you uncomfortable,” Mei Ling said.
Rudi nodded. “Natural defense against simple spells, like finding spells,” he added, glancing at Lukas.
Lukas blinked, surprised. He had no idea. But it made sense that Rudi had secrets of his own. Oma wouldn’t have trusted him otherwise.
“Done,” Albert said.
“I’ll go first.” Mei Ling put one hand on the man’s skinny desk. The hand grew, turning into a scaled foot with great, sharp claws.
Lukas sniffed with interest, trying to capture the scent of her crocodile soul: Fresh water and muddy marshes, mingled with silk and cold scales.
“Just a scale. No blood,” Mei Ling growled. Her golden eyes glared at the man.
The man said something in the tongue they shared, his face alight with wonder.
Lukas increased a bit in size, then went and stood next to her. He growled as well when the man produced metal tongs that reeked of magic.
“Just to preserve it,” the man assured Lukas. Then he did a double take, looking at Lukas carefully. “Not your natural shape, my lord, is it? Interesting.”
Lukas knew he’d given away too much. Only the royalty of the hound clan could change shape. He didn’t do more than give a soft rumbling threat, deep in his throat. He had this Albert’s scent as well.
Rudi held out a paw-like hand next, submitting to having his black nails trimmed.
Albert placed both the scale and the clippings in a glass jar that fogged the instant he sealed it. Then he turned back to Lukas. “I will concoct a potion that will put you in the right frame of mind for breaking the spell. How long were you—has he been cursed?”
“Ten years?” Rudi guessed.
Lukas nodded.
“Ah. I will do what I can from my side, but then you, my lord, will have to do the rest.”
“What does that mean? What’s he going to have to do?” Rudi asked, sounding as worried as Lukas felt.
“Fight.”
# # #
Lukas lay on the small couch in his true hound soul form, trying to ignore how the cushions beneath him stank. The golden lamp above him blotted out the rest of the room. The light was warm like the sun, and just as impartial, waiting but not judging.
Albert came into sight. He carried an oversized pair of shears, like garden clippers, made of red-hot steel, which he used to snip away strings that Lukas didn’t see until they’d been cut. Then they fell from the dark, beyond the golden light, landing and curling, like fishing line.
When Albert cut the last one, Lukas lifted off the couch.
“Fly, Prince,” the man whispered. “Fight and be free.”
Lukas found himself in his human form, naked, on a battlefield made of mud. Soldiers all around him had fallen, their faces twisted in agony, then turned to stone. Black clouds marched across the sky to the horizon, where an angry sun boiled.
The smell of decaying corpses, bitter magic, and the wet taint of shadows was bad enough to make Lukas gag. He reached for Hamlin, but found him curled up, far inside their shared body, sleeping heavily.
Worry stirred and danced up Lukas’ spine.
Hamlin, sleeping?
Lukas asked Hamlin to rise, to come forward, to wake up and join him.
But his hound soul slept on.
Lukas shouted, begged, pleaded, but he couldn’t wake Hamlin.
He didn’t know where he was. He suspected that unless he could get away, he’d never wake Hamlin again.
The field of bodies stretched out as far as Lukas could see on all side. There was nowhere to go. Still, maybe there was something more, something better, somewhere.
With the first step, Lukas knew he was in trouble.
Shadows mingled with the mud.
When Lukas moved, he’d alerted the shadows that there was yet something alive, something they hadn’t sucked the life out of.
The shadows, as mud, crawled up Lukas’ bare legs, slimy and cold.
He knew he had to fight them and get them off of him, or he’d die like everyone else here, a lifeless husk turned into stone.
Was this the place where the shadows were born?
Lukas ran as fast as his human legs would carry him, but the shadow mud was already circling his ankles and streaking up his calves.
There was no end to the field, no end to the bodies, the carnage, and the stench.
Lukas howled as he ran. It occurred to him, though, that he’d always run in his dreams, always tried to get away from the shadows, but he’d never succeeded—the shadows had always caught him, taken and drained him, when he’d run.
This time, Lukas was determined to stand and fight. He remembered the knight, made up of Sally’s heart, Peter’s feathers, Mei Ling’s scales, and more—the poisonous bite of a viper, the magic of a tiger, and the eyes of a boar.
Somewhere above Lukas shone that golden light, the one that had sent him to this place, the birthplace of the shadows.
Lukas stopped, spread his legs wide in a fighting stance while forming his hands around the haft of an invisible sword.
Let them come.
The mud leaped on Lukas, sliding down his back before it grabbed hold. It danced around his knees before surging up his thighs.
As the mud solidified, Lukas willed the sword of the knight into his hands.
A golden beam shot up from his cupped hands, warming them, bringing a whiff of hope: fresh mint and Seattle cherry blossoms.
Lukas struck down at the ground, freeing his left foot. The shadows shattered like ill-baked clay. Then he freed his right foot, flexing his ankle to shake the rest of the clinging mud away. Very carefully, he scraped the mud away from his back.
But he was never truly free of it. The shadows kept coming back and there was no end to the field, no end to the atrocities, no end to their attack.
Lukas pleaded again with Hamlin to wake up, but his hound soul wouldn’t wake.
Exhausted, Lukas stumbled and slowed. It wasn’t just the battle; the shadows sucked the life out of him where they lingered.
As he paused, the shadows crept higher.
Lukas swung at them with all his might, even jumping into the air—but he wasn’t a raven. He couldn’t fly away. He wasn’t truly a knight, able to fight. He was just a hound. He could only be loyal, and endure.
Lukas let the sword fall to his side as he stood, panting.
The shadows saw their chance. This time, they didn’t creep. Like an unstoppable ocean wave, they flowed up and over Lukas, encasing him, blackening his world until all was dark and full of filth. They siphoned off as much of his life, his energy, and his joy that they could reach.
Lukas resisted, hanging on. The shadows couldn’t get it all. They couldn’t touch Lukas’s true self, or his hound soul still sleeping so deeply inside of him.
The shadows hardened around Lukas’ body like a great shell. They exhausted themselves, drained of what energy they’d stolen from him.
Now, all Lukas had to do was break free. He knew he could. He had been brave and strong and true, all these years.
Lukas had the greater heart, and he still carried the true joy of being hound.
First, Lukas focused on breathing, flexing his chest; then, with a great snarling roar, he swung his left arm up and free. It felt as if it were made of lead, heavy and no longer supple.
However, the mud broke away. It fell off slowly this time, like partially set paint flaking off.
Lukas shook his head like Hamlin would, breaking his face and neck out of the mud.
This time, when the mud fell, instead of falling in pieces, it collapsed into dust, unable to reform.
Limb by limb, Lukas broke himself out of the shadow mud. He panted as he finished, exhausted to his soul, covered in dead shadow dust.
But he was free.
In triumph, Lukas raised his sword again, holding it above his head. The golden light pierced the clouds above him, and the true sun broke through, bathing him in light and blinding him.
When the light receded, Lukas found himself curled up on Albert’s couch, the stench not as bad as it had been. It took him a moment to realize that he was in human form.
Lukas tensed, counting the seconds.
The shadows didn’t attack.
Slowly Lukas sat up.
The shadows still didn’t surround him.
Lukas took a deep breath—his first truly deep, human breath for ten years. Grinning, he turned to Rudi.
“Hi.”