Black Dawn

by L. J. Smith

  “It means they’re shapeshifters, like Bern and Gavin. So they don’t just track us by scent. They also feel our life energy.”

  Maggie thought about Bern turning his face this way and that, saying, “Do you sense anything?” And Gavin saying, “No. I can’t feel them at all.”

  “Great,” Maggie muttered. She glanced back and saw P.J. following doggedly, her face taut with concentration.

  It was a strange sort of chase. Maggie and her group were trying to keep as quiet as possible, which was made easier by the dampness of the rain forest around them. Although there were four of them moving at once, the only sound from close up was the soft pant of quick breathing and the occasional short gasp of direction from Jeanne.

  They slipped and plunged and stumbled between the huge dark trunks that stood like columns in the mist. Cedar boughs drooped from above, making it twilight where Maggie was trying to pick her way around moss-covered logs. There was a cool green smell like incense everywhere.

  But however still the world was around them, there was always the sound of the hounds baying in the distance. Always behind them, always getting closer.

  They crossed an icy, knee-deep stream, but Maggie didn’t have much hope that it would throw the pursuit off. Cady began to lag seriously after that. She seemed dazed and only semiconscious, following instructions as if she were sleepwalking, and only answering questions with a fuzzy murmur. Maggie was worried about P.J., too. They were all weak with hunger and shaky with stress.

  But it wasn’t until they were almost at the castle that the hunt caught up with them.

  They had somehow finished the long, demanding trek down the mountain. Maggie was burning with pride for P.J. and Cady. And then, all at once, the baying of the hounds came, terribly close and getting louder fast.

  At the same moment, Jeanne stopped and cursed, staring ahead.

  “What?” Maggie was panting heavily. “You see them?”

  Jeanne pointed. “I see the road. I’m an idiot. They’re coming right down it, much faster than we can go through the underbrush. I didn’t realize we were headed for it.”

  P.J. leaned against Maggie, her slight chest heaving, her plaid baseball hat askew.

  “What are we going to do?” she said. “Are they going to catch us?”

  “No!” Maggie set her jaw grimly. “We’ll have to go back fast—”

  At that moment, faintly but distinctly, Cady said, “The tree.”

  Her eyes were half shut, her head was bowed, and she still looked as if she were in a trance. But for some reason Maggie felt she ought to listen to her.

  “Hey, wait—look at this.” They were standing at the foot of a huge Douglas fir. Its lowest branches were much too high to climb in the regular way, but a maple had fallen against it and remained wedged, branches interlocked with the giant, forming a steep but climbable ramp. “We can go up.”

  “You’re crazy,” Jeanne said again. “We can’t possibly hide here; they’re going to go right by us. And besides, how does she even know there’s a tree here?”

  Maggie looked at Arcadia. It was a good question, but Cady wasn’t answering. She seemed to be in a trance again.

  “I don’t know. But we can’t just stand around and wait for them to come.” The truth was that her instincts were all standing up and screaming at her, and they said to trust. “Let’s try it, okay? Come on, P.J., can you climb that tree?”

  Four minutes later they were all up. We’re hiding in a Christmas tree, Maggie thought as she looked out between sprays of flat aromatic needles. From this height she could see the road, which was just two wheel tracks with grass growing down the middle.

  Just then the hunt arrived.

  The dogs came first, dogs as big as Jake the Great Dane, but leaner. Maggie could see their ribs clearly defined under their short, dusty tan coats. Right behind them were people on horses.

  Sylvia was at the front of the group.

  She was wearing what looked like a gown split for riding, in a cool shade of glacier green. Trotting beside her stirrup was Gavin, the blond slave trader who’d chased Maggie and Cady yesterday and had run to tattle when Delos killed Bern with the blue fire.

  Yeah, they’re buddy-buddy all right, Maggie thought. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Coming up fast behind Sylvia were two other people who each gave her a jolt, and she didn’t know which shock was worse.

  One was Delos. He was riding a beautiful horse, so dark brown it was almost black, but with reddish highlights. He sat straight and easy in the saddle, looking every inch the elegant young prince. The only discordant note was the heavy brace on his left arm.

  Maggie stared at him, her heart numb.

  He was after them. It was just as Jeanne had said. He was hunting them down with dogs. And he’d probably told Sylvia that he hadn’t really killed two of the slaves.

  Almost inaudibly, Jeanne breathed, “You see?”

  Maggie couldn’t look at her.

  Then she saw another rider below and froze in bewilderment.

  It was Delos’s father.

  He looked exactly the way he had in Delos’s memories. A tall man, with blood-red hair and a cold, handsome face. Maggie couldn’t see his eyes at this distance, but she knew that they were a fierce and brilliant yellow.

  The old king. But he was dead. Maggie was too agitated to be cautious.

  “Who is that? The red-haired man,” she murmured urgently to Jeanne.

  Jeanne answered almost without a sound. “Hunter Redfern.”

  “It’s not the king?”

  Jeanne shook her head minutely. Then, when Maggie kept staring at her, she breathed. “He’s Delos’s great-grandfather. He just came. I’ll tell you about it later.”

  Maggie nodded. And the next instant it was swept out of her head as P.J.’s hand clutched at her and she felt a wave of adrenaline.

  The party below was stopping.

  The hounds turned and circled first, forming a hesitant clump not twenty feet down the road. When the people pulled up their horses they were almost directly below Maggie’s tree.

  “What is it?” the tall man said, the one Jeanne had called Hunter Redfern.

  And then one of the hounds changed. Maggie caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and looked quickly, or she would have missed it.

  The lean, wiry animal reared up, like a dog trying to look over a fence. But when it reached its full height it didn’t wobble or go back down. It steadied, and its entire dusty-tan body rippled.

  Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, its shoulders went back and its arms thickened. Its spine straightened and it seemed to gain more height. Its tail pulled in and disappeared. And its hound face melted and re-formed, the ears and muzzle shrinking, the chin growing. In maybe twenty seconds the dog had become a boy, a boy who still wore patches of tan fur here and there, but definitely human-looking.

  And he’s got pants on, Maggie thought distractedly, even though her heart was pounding in her throat. I wonder how they manage that?

  The boy turned his head toward the riders. Maggie could see the ribs in his bare chest move with his breathing.

  “Something’s wrong here,” he said. “I can’t follow their life force anymore.”

  Hunter Redfern looked around. “Are they blocking it?”

  Gavin spoke up from beside Sylvia’s stirrup. “Bern said they were blocking it yesterday.”

  “Isn’t that impossible?” Delos’s cool voice came from the very back of the group, where he was expertly holding his nervous, dancing horse in check. “If they’re only humans?”

  Hunter didn’t move or blink an eye, but Maggie saw a glance pass between Sylvia and Gavin. She herself twisted her head slightly, just enough to look at the other girls in the tree.

  She wanted to see if Jeanne understood what they were talking about, but it was Cady who caught her eye. Cady’s eyes were shut, her head leaning against the dark furrowed trunk of the tree. Her lips were
moving, although Maggie couldn’t hear any sound.

  And Jeanne was watching her with narrowed eyes and an expression of grim suspicion.

  “Human vermin are full of surprises,” Hunter Redfern was saying easily down below. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll get them eventually.”

  “They may be heading for the castle,” Sylvia said. “We’d better put extra guards at the gate.”

  Maggie noticed how Delos stiffened at that.

  And so did Hunter Redfern, even though he was looking the other way. He said calmly, “What do you think of that, Prince Delos?”

  Delos didn’t move for an instant. Then he said, “Yes. Do it.” But he said it to a lean, bearded man beside him, who bowed his head in a quick jerk.

  And he did something that made Maggie’s heart go cold.

  He looked up at her.

  The other people in his party, including the hounds, were looking up and down the road, or sideways into the forest at their own level. Delos was the only one who’d been sitting quietly, looking straight ahead. But now he tilted his chin and turned an expressionless face toward the cluster of branches where Maggie was sitting.

  And met her gaze directly.

  She saw the blaze of his yellow eyes, even at this distance. He was looking coolly and steadily—at her.

  Maggie jerked back and barely caught herself from falling. Her heart was pounding so hard it was choking her. But she didn’t seem to be able to do anything but cling to her branch.

  We’re dead, she thought dizzily, pinned into immobility by those golden eyes. He’s stronger than the rest of them; he’s a Wild Power. And he could sense us all along.

  Now all they have to do is surround the tree. We can try to fight—but we don’t have weapons. They’ll beat us in no time. . . .

  Go away. The voice gave her a new shock. It was clear and unemotional—and it was in Maggie’s head.

  Delos? she thought, staring into that burning gaze. You can—?

  His expression didn’t change. I told you before, but you wouldn’t listen. What do I have to do to make you understand?

  Maggie’s heart picked up more speed. Delos, listen to me. I don’t want—

  I’m warning you, he said, and his mental voice was like ice. Don’t come to the castle. If you do, I won’t protect you again.

  Maggie felt cold to her bones, too numb to even form words to answer him.

  I mean it, he said. Stay away from the castle if you want to stay alive.

  Then he turned away and Maggie felt the contact between them broken off cleanly. Where his presence had been, she could feel emptiness.

  “Let’s go,” he said in a short, hard voice, and spurred his horse forward.

  And then they were all moving, heading on down the path, leaving Maggie trying to keep her trembling from shaking the tree.

  When the last horse was out of sight, P.J. let out her breath, sagging. “I thought they had us,” she whispered.

  Maggie swallowed. “Me, too. But Cady was right. They went on by.” She turned. “Just what was that stuff about us blocking them?”

  Cady was still leaning her head against the tree trunk, and her eyes were still closed. But she seemed almost asleep now—and her lips weren’t moving.

  Jeanne’s eyes followed Maggie’s. They were still narrowed, and her mouth was still tight with something like grim humor. But she didn’t say anything. After a moment she quirked an eyebrow and shrugged minutely. “Who knows?”

  You know, Maggie thought. At least more than you’re telling me. But there was something else bothering her, so she said, “Okay, then, what about that guy who looks like Delos’s father? Hunter Redfern.”

  “He’s a bigwig in the Night World,” Jeanne said. “Maybe the biggest. It was his son who founded this place back in the fourteen hundreds.”

  Maggie blinked. “In the whats?”

  Jeanne’s eyes glowed briefly, sardonically. “In the fourteen hundreds,” she said with exaggerated patience. “They’re vampires, all right? Actually, they’re lamia, which is the kind of vampire that can have kids, but that’s not the point. The point is they’re immortal, except for accidents.”

  “That guy has been alive more than five hundred years,” Maggie said slowly, looking down the path where Hunter Redfern had disappeared.

  “Yeah. And, yeah, everybody says how much he looks like the old king. Or the other way around, you know.”

  Delos sure thinks he looks like him, Maggie thought. She’d seen the way Hunter handled Delos, guiding him as expertly as Delos had guided his horse. Delos was used to obeying somebody who looked and sounded just like Hunter Redfern.

  Then she frowned. “But—how come he isn’t king?”

  “Oh . . .” Jeanne sighed and ducked under a spray of fir needles that was tangled in her hair. She looked impatient and uneasy. “He’s from the Outside, okay? He’s only been here a couple of weeks. All the slaves say that he didn’t even know about this place before that.”

  “He didn’t know . . .”

  “Look. This is the way I heard it from the old slaves, okay? Hunter Redfern had a son named Chervil when he was really young. And when Chervil was, like, our age, they had some big argument and got estranged. And then Chervil ran off with his friends, and that left Hunter Redfern without an heir. And Hunter Redfern never knew that where the kid went was here.” Jeanne gestured around the valley. “To start his own little kingdom of Night People. But then somehow Hunter found out, so he came to visit. And that’s why he’s here.”

  She finished and stretched her shoulders, looking down the tree-ramp speculatively. P.J. sat quietly, glancing from Jeanne to Maggie. Cady just breathed.

  Maggie chewed her lip, not satisfied yet. “He’s here just to visit? That’s all?”

  “I’m a slave. You think I asked him personally?”

  “I think you know.”

  Jeanne stared at her a moment, then glanced at P.J. Her look was almost sullen, but Maggie understood.

  “Jeanne, she’s been through hell already. Whatever it is, she can take it. Right, kiddo?”

  P.J. twisted her plaid cap in a complete circle and settled it more firmly on her head. “Right,” she said flatly.

  “So tell us,” Maggie said. “What’s Hunter Redfern doing here?”

  CHAPTER 13

  I think,” Jeanne said, “that he’s here to get Delos to close the Dark Kingdom out. Shut up the castle and come join him Outside. And, incidentally, of course, kill all the slaves.”

  Maggie stared. “Kill them all?”

  “Well, it makes sense. Nobody would need them anymore.”

  “And that’s why you were escaping now,” Maggie said slowly.

  Jeanne gave her a quick, startled glance. “You’re really not as stupid as you seem at first sight, you know?”

  “Gee, thanks.” Maggie shifted on her branch. A minute ago she’d been thinking how good it would feel to get away from the twigs poking her. Now she suddenly wanted to stay here forever, hiding. She had a very bad feeling.

  “So why,” she said, forming her thoughts slowly, “does Hunter Redfern want to do this right now?”

  “What do you think? Really, Maggie, what do you know about all this?”

  Four Wild Powers, Maggie thought, hearing Delos’s old teacher’s voice in her mind. Who will be needed at the millennium, to save the world—or to destroy it.

  “I know that something’s happening at the millennium, and that Delos is a Wild Power, and that the Wild Powers are supposed to do something—”

  “Save the world,” Jeanne said in a clipped voice. “Except that that’s not what the Night People want. They figure there’s going to be some huge catastrophe that’ll wipe out most of the humans—and then they can take over. And that’s why Hunter Redfern’s here. He wants the Wild Powers on his side instead of on the humans’. He wants them to help destroy the human world instead of saving it. And it looks like he’s just about convinced Delos.”

  Maggi
e let out a shaky breath and leaned her head against a branch. It was just like what Delos had told her—except that Jeanne was an uninterested party. She still wanted not to believe it, but she had a terrible sinking feeling. In fact, she had a strange feeling of weight, as if something awful were trying to settle on her shoulders.

  “The millennium really means the end of the world,” she said.

  “Yeah. Our world, anyway.”

  Maggie glanced at P.J., who was swinging her thin legs over the edge of a branch. “You still okay?”

  P.J. nodded. She looked frightened, but not unbearably so. She kept her eyes on Maggie’s face trustingly.

  “And do you still want to go to the castle?” Jeanne said, watching Maggie just as closely. “Hunter Redfern is a very bad guy to mess with. And I hate to tell you, but your friend Prince Delos is out for our blood just like the rest of them.”

  “No, I don’t still want to go,” Maggie said briefly. Her head went down and she gave Jeanne a brooding look under her eyelashes. “But I have to, anyway. I’ve got even more reasons now.”

  “Such as?”

  Maggie held up a finger. “One, I’ve got to get help for Cady.” She glanced at the motionless figure clinging trancelike to the fir’s trunk, then held up another finger. “Two, I have to find out what happened to my brother.” Another finger. “And, three, I have to get those slaves free before Hunter Redfern has them all killed.”

  “You have to what?” Jeanne said in a muffled shriek. She almost fell out of the tree.

  “I kind of thought you’d react that way. Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to get involved.”

  “I was wrong before. You are as dumb as you look. And you are totally freaking crazy.”

  Yeah, I know, Maggie thought grimly. It’s probably just as well I didn’t mention the fourth reason.

  Which was that she had to keep Delos from aiding and abetting the end of the world. That was the responsibility that had settled on her, and she had no idea why it was hers except that she’d been inside his mind. She knew him. She couldn’t just walk away.

  If anybody could talk to him about it and convince him not to do it, she could. She had absolutely no doubt about that. So it was her job to try.