by Cutter, Leah
The tiger clan.
Members of the hound clan were already infected with the shadows. But no matter how the shadows pushed, the hound clan didn’t, and never would, practice enough magic for the shadows to grow stronger.
But the tiger clan…they were the most magical of the clans.
Through them, the shadows could take hold and move from the clans out into the world.
Bernardo saw his chance with the tigers, as if through a peephole. It was slim, like a single beam of light through solid clouds. Just for an instant, a single day, would he be able to stop the shadows from mixing with all the magic from the tiger clan.
Just one chance to turn the tiger warriors away from darkness.
Bernardo saw his path: from the highlands of Guatemala to the coast, to a ship south to Panama City, where he would take another ship west to India and Calcutta.
If he delayed, even a day, the world might be lost.
Bernardo wept as he watched cities turned to ash, vile filth spewed over all things green and good, the chilled Road to Xibalba the only path to take.
He would find this girl. And stop her.
Before the shadows took over the world.
# # #
Cold, gritty sand pressed against Bernardo’s fingertips, as slippery as the shadows he’d tried to grasp. The world was fading, eaten by darkness. Bernardo had to find his way back into the light. But where was it? He couldn’t see or taste it.
Then he heard the songs of the mystics, floating ahead of him as if they were walking in front of him through thick jungle. His viper soul rose, gliding along the melody, undulating through the air as if through water, leading Bernardo back to the real world.
Wet, slimy porridge slid from Bernardo’s shirt, up along his neck and dripped onto the ground. Golden light still poured through the windows set high on the temple’s slanting walls, and sweet traces of incense mingled with the smells of spilled plantains and xocolati.
Gezane popped into Bernardo’s view. “Diácono,” he said, relief in his voice. “Are you all right? You had a vision,” he added, awe making his voice breathy.
Bernardo nodded cautiously, though his head felt like a leaf fluttering in a breeze, attached to his body by the merest thread.
“Can you save us from the shadows?” Gezane asked.
Bernardo wondered how much of his vision he’d shared as he’d experienced it. The mystics sometimes spoke everything out loud; other times, they merely gibbered and could only explain later what they’d seen.
In reply to the boy, though, Bernardo carefully shook his head. All he could do was stop the spreading of the shadows. They’d still live on, and they’d try to attack the other clans.
Bernardo sat up slowly, Gezane coming to his side to help. He rubbed his hand over his chin, across his cheeks. They felt as numb as when the coals of Olan’s funeral pyre had grown cold and he’d found warmth in the local firewater.
“Do you have to go alone?” Gezane asked. While the tone of his voice was innocent enough, his face shone with hope. The boy desperately wanted to go with Bernardo, to be part of this vision, to maybe have his name written on the temple stairs.
If it had been Olan asking, Bernardo would have gleefully agreed. They would have driven each other crazy—Bernardo planning every aspect of the trip, setting timetables and packing with care, while Olan would travel with whatever he’d thrown into his pack the morning they left, then talking Bernardo into abandoning his plans for shortcuts or adventures.
But Olan wasn’t there.
Bernardo’s viper soul stirred. Did he not trust Gezane? Or was his viper half merely anxious to go?
Gezane had spent his life in the outside world. He knew how to navigate it. Maybe he could be a good guide.
And maybe Bernardo could teach him some things as well, like patience and prayers.
Slowly, Bernardo replied, “I don’t have to travel to Calcutta alone,” his voice full of gravel.
The young man’s glee was as bright as the golden light still streaming through the temple windows, bright enough to dim Bernardo’s questions and regrets.
# # #
The sound of a great crowd floated above Bernardo and Gezane as they approached the market. When they turned a corner, the noise exploded into a cacophony greater than the jungle during the growing season. Everywhere Bernardo looked strode the people of Guatemala City: grandmothers with their loaded baskets, young mothers riding herd on their passel of children, even packs of young men on the prowl.
“Why are there so many people?” Bernardo asked Gezane, stopping in the middle of the street. He was disgusted by the quaver in his voice. When had he turned into this querulous old man? He tramped down on his fear, but it kept rising back up, like a boiling pot with an ill-fitting lid.
“This is a normal crowd,” Gezane said derisively.
Bernardo flinched, but he kept his hand wrapped around the young man’s biceps. Gezane’s pulse fluttered under his fingertips, and the young man kept starting and looking over his shoulder.
He was nervous as well, though he’d never admit it.
Bernardo had no idea what Gezane could be scared of here. But he knew better than to say anything. Gezane would just push him away, maybe abandon him here amidst all this chaos.
They walked ahead through the crowded street, bypassing the market and going directly to the docks beyond. The tall buildings made of brick with grand windows and stonework gave way to squat wooden sheds and the stench of open sewers. Automobiles roared on the next street. As if in response, the lone wail of a train called out. Long piers ran out into the water, with great ships, large and angular, waited like floating temples, accepting their acolytes and their tithed goods.
“Which way?” Bernardo asked, looking up and down the waterfront. Their boat, heading down to Panama City, was docked at pier fifteen.
“How should I know?” Gezane snapped. Then he turned and looked at Bernardo. “I’m sorry, Diácono,” he said softly. “I don’t know why I keep saying things like that.” He looked scared, pale under his tanned skin.
“We are neither of us ourselves,” Bernardo said. He’d felt an uncomfortable pressure, as if his skin was too tight and needed to be shed, since they’d left the temple.
Gezane looked up and down the street, taking a deep breath, then he flashed a grin at Bernardo. “Let’s ask,” he said.
Bernardo shook his head but followed after Gezane, who’d been adamant that they never ask anyone for help for most of their trip.
When they inquired which direction their dock lay with a pair of day laborers who were slopping whitewash on a decrypted store front, they were directed further north.
Bernardo heaved a huge sigh upon sighting the faded, weathered sign for their dock. “We made the first leg,” he said. He felt a smile crack his face, and realized the good humor had recently been as rare as sunshine during the rainy season.
“We did,” Gezane said. “The ship should be easier,” he added quietly.
Bernardo nodded. He paused, then made himself ask, “Do you feel it too? The pressure?”
Instead of snapping at him, Gezane gave a sharp nod. “As if the air fights us.”
An involuntary shiver passed across Bernardo’s shoulders, as if cool vines were suddenly drawn against his bare skin. He’d thought it had been only him, out of his element, traveling so far from his home.
Suddenly, Bernardo’s viper soul rose and twined around his human soul. He stopped and looked around. Was there something on the pier? Something threatening?
No one was close enough to see, so Bernardo encouraged his viper soul to rise more. Color drained out of the world and the broad wooden boards beneath his feet grew gray like driftwood. The smell of salty water and dusky seaweed rose, overwhelming the scents of the unclean city.
Horror slammed into Bernardo, as solid as Olan’s fist, when the darkness near the entrance to the ship resolved into wisps of shadows, wrapped around the raised stumps de
corating the edges of the pier.
They were waiting for them—watchers. Scouts.
Bernardo glanced behind him. No, not scouts. Shadows pressed in, all around him.
Had he opened the door to them with his prophesy? Is that why they hounded him, unseen, unbeknownst to him?
And Gezane, he amended, when he saw the young man looking back at him, his fear as dark as the shadows draped over his shoulders.
Bernardo sent a quick plea to the gods to help them both.
But he knew that the gods rarely answered anyone’s prayers.
Bernardo shook off his viper’s gaze and marched down the pier. The fear and age he’d been feeling weren’t his. They came from his enemy, the shadows, who were trying to cloud his mind, distract him from his mission.
“It’s going to be all right,” he assured Gezane, his old strength returning. Seeing the shadows—knowing they were there, that it wasn’t just him—had helped him return to himself.
Gezane stood up straighter, the cruel lines leaving his face, the cunning returning. “Yes, it will be,” he said, squaring his shoulders.
They were going to have to fight off the shadows, who were watching their very thoughts.
Though he couldn’t see them, Bernardo knew the shadows had drawn back. They were all right, now.
But for how long?
# # #
Bernardo’s stomach rolled with the ship, feeling unmoored in his body, empty and adrift. However, the smell of the rice from this morning’s breakfast made his nausea rise and his mouth flood with bile. He could barely manage even a few mouthfuls of water.
Another wave splashed against the bow. Bernardo couldn’t contain his groan.
“Shut up, old man,” Gezane snapped.
Bernardo focused on the young man, grateful for the distraction. “What do you know of suffering? You’re too young to know anything.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them. They were fueled by sickness and shadows.
But the journey on the ship seemed like an endless road through the dark underground world of Xibalba, with no stars to guide his way, his viper soul drowned by the endless water surrounding them.
“I know enough to enjoy life. To live it. You didn’t have the cojones. You stayed locked away like a delicate flower behind the thick walls of the temple.”
“I wish I’d never left it,” Bernardo groaned as the ship heeled over again. They were staying close to the coast, never really leaving the sight of it, which meant the ship was in constant motion.
“Then go back! I can finish the mission.” In the dark of their tiny room, Gezane’s eyes took on a strange gleam. “Let me do it. I can see out your prophesy. Alone.”
“No,” Bernardo said, shuddering. He made a feeble attempt to push himself up on his bunk bed. “Don’t you see? That’s what they want. The shadows.”
Gezane shook his head. “No. It’s you. You don’t want to be an afterward when they teach the children of our journey. Just a footnote.”
“I don’t care about fame,” Bernardo protested, swaying with the ship. “I just want to help. To be of service to the gods.”
“You’ve done your part. You saw,” Gezane said.
“And I must finish it,” Bernardo said stubbornly.
The vision had shown only him warning the tiger clan. Not Gezane.
“If it doesn’t finish you first,” Gezane said, pushing himself off the wall where he’d been slumped. He walked over to the door of their room and opened it.
“Wait, where are you going?” Bernardo asked, hating the quiver in his voice.
“Out. Into the fresh air.” Gezane paused, his dark eyes still flashing that odd glow. “Smells like death in here,” he added cruelly, slamming the door.
“No, wait,” Bernardo said, shivering and afraid. He wanted to get up to follow, but he couldn’t hold himself up anymore; instead, he fell back onto his bunk.
The shadows were eating them alive, here. Bernardo could see them now, even without his viper soul.
They were determined to stop Bernardo from reaching the tiger clan in time.
But Bernardo was just as stubborn. Seasick or not, with Gezane’s help or not, he’d make the journey.
Though he’d come to realize what happened afterward no longer mattered. Gezane had been right: It did smell like death in their room. Bernardo would never survive the trip back up the mountain to the temple. His ashes would be scattered far from his home, and never mingle with Olan’s.
# # #
Bernardo woke again to blessed stillness and quiet. Even after a week off the ship, he still marveled at it. Golden morning light filtered by white lace curtains splayed across the foot of his bed. The viper clan had paid for a luxurious hotel after the elder living here had seen how ill Bernardo had become.
Bernardo stretched, satisfied. The bed was soft and the room was full of heavy, dark furniture. It weighed Bernardo down; he didn’t understand the need to possess so many things.
But they were leaving that day, at dawn, and Bernardo wanted to savor every moment on ground that didn’t shift with the waves. Plus, the elder clan leader had provided Bernardo with a charm to help him fight his illness. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad this time.
Bernardo stretched again, enjoying the light, comparing how weak it looked to the light in the temple, up the mountain, closer to the sky, when it finally occurred to him: This wasn’t dawn light, but mid-morning.
The trunk that the elder had provided Bernardo no longer sat next to the door.
Bernardo sprang out of bed and raced to the desk. The leather wallet with the money, tickets, and papers was still sitting there, but instead of being plump with purpose, it was hollow and empty.
Quickly, Bernardo slid on light, drawstring pants, a striped shirt, and sandals, then raced out the door. The laborers were no longer in the streets; they’d already all gone to their jobs. Instead, it was just the idle folk, with time on their hands, strolling to the market or the park.
Bernardo pushed through them, the inevitable crowds of the city, racing to the docks.
The pier looked empty, but still Bernardo ran on, all the way up to the edge of the water.
Nothing waited for him there. The ship was gone, with Gezane, corrupted by shadows, on it.
The next ship to Calcutta wouldn’t leave for a week or more.
The shadows had won.
Bernardo would never get to Calcutta in time, would never be able to warn the tiger clan. Adrian couldn’t fulfill Bernardo’s prophesy, but in his arrogance and clouded mind, he thought he could.
Old man tears rose to Bernardo’s eyes, futile as age. He’d wasted his life at the temple, and now, he’d killed them all. He was a disgrace. Olan would be ashamed of him.
Bernardo turned to go…and felt himself crumbling to the ground, the smoke of prophesy rising.
A second vision, one of Gezane, filled Bernardo.
Gezane had ruined this chance with the shadows. He’d have to give his own life to remove the disgrace from his name, his family’s name.
But he couldn’t be told the entire vision.
Gezane had betrayed them to the shadows. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t do so again.
Then another vision attacked Bernardo as he lay drooling and gasping on the pier, showing him the end of his own days. Sailors would find him and lock him away in a cell for the insane, mumbling prophesies to himself until the elder of the viper clan found him, much too late.
Bernardo would die in that cell.
Gezane would carry a cup of Bernardo’s ashes back to the temple, to mingle them with Olan’s, as Gezane sentence was laid out, spells cast upon him, the fate of the world resting no longer with them, but with a hound prince yet to be born.
Chapter Nine
Seattle, Present Day
Lukas
“How are you feeling?” Rudi asked.
Lukas considered the question. “Human,” he said with a grin. “And…and good. I guess.” He didn�
�t really know how he felt. How was he supposed to feel? He hadn’t been in this body for more than a minute in ten years. Albert’s couch felt scratchy under his thighs, and the air seemed dull, no longer swimming with scents.
“Do you know who cursed you?” Albert asked quietly.
“Yes,” Lukas replied, then he looked down at his feet, at the long human toes that seemed foreign, yet familiar. He wiggled them experimentally. Very strange.
“This person—they might be very ill now. Weak. They drew power from the spell, from you,” Albert said.
Lukas looked up at Rudi. “Wir müssen nach Deutschland zurückgehen.” He had to go see Oma. Immediately. And the rest of his family too—Da, Mama, and Greta.
Rudi gave him a curt nod. Then he smiled. “First, we need to get you some clothes.”
Lukas looked down at his odd human genitalia, nestled in black curls. He knew Rudi was right: As a human, he would have to go around dressed. He remembered being told that, that he shouldn’t walk around in just his skin, without his fur, but it was an old memory, from long ago.
“I’ll just pop down to the shop,” Albert said.
“Thank you,” Lukas said. Should he put his hand in his lap and cover himself? Hamlin didn’t care, but he was a hound, always covered in his own coat.
After Albert had gone, Lukas turned to Mei Ling. “Thank you for bringing us here,” he said formally.
“You’re welcome,” she said, a smile breaking across her face like the sun peeking across the horizon.
Lukas was stunned by her beauty. Though she was old—maybe as old as Oma—her skin was still as translucent as a rose petal. Her dark eyes seemed endlessly wise, and her long white-and-black hair fell like a silk curtain.
“You will help me with the shadows now, yes?” Mei Ling asked.
Lukas paused, blinking. The glow around Mei Ling faded. She was still beautiful, but he could see through the casual magic she used.
“I don’t need to,” Lukas said, puzzled. Why had she thought she needed to charm him? “You are part of the knight who will destroy the shadows for good.”
“She’s what?” Rudi asked sharply.