Wolf Interval (Senyaza Series Book 3)

by Chrysoula Tzavelas

  Yejun gestured Brynn ahead of him with a sardonic grace. Brynn gently wrapped her fingers around my wrist and held out her hand for Yejun like a queen.

  “All right,” I said, and opened the window to the other world.

  Or I tried, anyhow. But, as usual for today, something went horribly wrong. It was like digging into a sandbank, and as I dug, the sand teetered over our heads. And then, as I tried to withdraw and reconsider, the sand collapsed on us and, like Alice in the rabbit hole, we fell through the world.

  -eight-

  The tunnel to Hades is guarded by a three-headed dog.

  What?

  I was falling.

  I was dreaming.

  I jerked away, and fell again.

  I always hated that story. What her mother wanted was meaningless. She belonged to her father and the man he gave her to. And they manipulated her so she paid forever for a moment of compassion.

  The walls of the blackness flashed with light, like pictures from a silent film. I couldn’t understand what they were supposed to be. I looked down.

  I was falling, like Alice, like Persephone. I’d pay forever.

  Alastor, with wings like a black eagle, looked into a pool and called to the Hunt. They emerged, many in one. The horses and the hunters, bound to the same howling horn. Horses and hunters, but no hounds.

  The demon spoke to them.

  Ion, the First Huntsman, looked up.

  He saw me. He knew me. And he raised his hand and his Hunt stopped its restless shifting to look at him.

  He pointed at me. The horn blew and my dogs burst out of me.

  The horn became music, a fall of burning notes, not a horn, but strings.

  I woke up.

  The alley with the Dumpster had become a night forest. A full moon (and that was wrong, wrong) shone down between the branches of the tree above me. I lay on packed dirt and knobbly roots, and except for the wrong moon, I might have thought I’d fallen asleep in the forest near my father’s house.

  Heart licked my cheek and I sat up with a start. Music, real music, still danced in the air. I looked around wildly. Behind me, Yejun and Brynn were shaking their heads, but most of my attention was grabbed by the tall violinist playing on the other side of the clearing. He wore a long coat the color of a distant star, he had wild storm-shot hair over Chinese features, and his violin shone like water in moonlight. The song he played was eerie and aggressive, but also familiar in that can’t-place-it way. Nod and Grim sat in front of him, heads cocked identically to one side as they listened to the song.

  I rose to my feet and tried to look around again without letting the musician out of my sight. All he was doing was playing, but here? Now? After so much had already gone wrong? This was bad.

  We were in a clearing and right away I saw the first problem. Brambles filled the space between the tall trees; the only path out of the glade went through the musician. Of course. He stood there with his legs braced, swaying a little with his eyes closed as his fingers danced over the neck of the black violin. The bow seemed to be strung with lightning.

  The music he made wanted to get inside my head. It wasn’t just familiar, it was catchy. But there was something discordant about it, too, as if once it got inside my head, it would leave scars behind.

  Brynn had her head tilted to one side as she stared at the musician and I figured she felt the same way. I glanced at Yejun, then went over to him. “Are you all right?”

  He was looking around wildly, his sunglasses in one hand. “I... I don’t know. This place is weird. It’s not real. It’s like... a movie. Even that guy.” He scowled in the direction of the musician.

  Doubtfully, I said, “Backworld places are different from the normal world, especially in the realms. I don’t know about him. Is he a faerie?”

  “You mean like the security guy in the building? No way. That guy was real. This guy is a... projection of some sort.” Yejun shook his head and pressed his fingers against his eyes. “I feel like I’ve gone blind.”

  The musician stopped playing mid-phrase, lowering his bow and opening his eyes to give us a cool, unfriendly look. “Please be quiet. I’m trying to catch a song and you’re distracting the queries.” He looked Chinese but he had an accent I couldn’t identify, and his voice made me think of honey, thick and golden. “Why did you come if you were just going to talk over the music?” His violin hummed along with his voice.

  “This isn’t where we’re supposed to be,” I said uncertainly. “Grim, Heart?” Grim leapt to his feet guiltily and started nosing around, but Heart stayed near me, watching the musician warily. “Something pulled us here.”

  Grim couldn’t find the trail nearby, which didn’t surprise me; we hadn’t crossed over where the Huntsman had crossed and the connections between the Backworld and the mortal world aren’t linear. But still, that shouldn’t have put us so far off course. I was pretty sure that we should have either been in empty white corridors, or in something resembling a dream of Seattle. That was what usually happened when I stepped between worlds. This forest was something out of a fairy tale. It wasn’t even a Seattle forest of long ago, despite what I’d thought when I’d first woken up. The pale-barked trees were uniform and deciduous, their leaves autumn-bright against the night sky above.

  I wondered uneasily about the night. Had we lost time in the descent? It had seemed endless. Was it night already? Was it Halloween? Was it too late? I reached out to open a window back to Seattle. We could go back and try again, and leave this strange musician to his song-catching, whatever that was.

  Except I couldn’t find the latch, so to speak. I’d always been able to catch hold of space and tear a hole into it, but now I was just flailing at the air. “Why isn’t it working?” I demanded of nobody in particular, and commanded Nod to step between worlds himself.

  He chased his tail instead, then flattened his ears when he realized what he was doing and gave me an accusatory look. He could no more go through than I could, and he wasn’t very pleased I’d made him look foolish.

  Yejun watched me, then said, “Let me try.”

  “Don’t,” said the musician. His cool expression had become one of mild, detached interest. “I’m afraid I’ve changed the local properties enough that you’ll only create problems.”

  “Problems for you?” said Yejun. “I just bet.” He raised his hand and plucked at something over his head.

  Lightning flashed all around us, with a horrible twanging clash of notes. When it faded, Brynn was kneeling down, her face buried in Heart’s fur, her entire body quivering. I grabbed Yejun’s other hand before he could make things worse. “Stop!”

  Yejun’s hand turned until it was palm to palm with mine. Then he pulled away and stalked over to stand in front of the musician, who hadn’t lost his look of vague interest. “What did you do?”

  The musician winced, his detached interest turning rueful. “I didn’t mean to do anything. I’m just trying to find a song. You must understand about unintended consequences here, yes? The lines are so simple, but even so, all it takes is changing the tension and everything is different.”

  Yejun bristled, then all of a sudden, the aggression drained out of him. He gave the musician a wry smile. “I know all about unintended consequences, yeah.” He held out his hand. “My name’s Yejun. Who’re you?”

  The musician clasped Yejun’s hand, and Yejun visibly started. “I am called the Fiddler. This is Arabet the Howler, my companion.” He tilted the violin he was holding so that we could see it better. It was black, polished, and without a visible grain. After staring for a moment, I realized that it was made of stone.

  Yejun must have realized the same thing, because he said, “Real rock music, I see.”

  “Real enough,” said the Fiddler blithely. His gaze went past Yejun to Brynn and then to me. “I wonder, do any of you know much about music?”

  I shook my head and sank down to my knees, holding out a hand for Grim. He came over to me and pressed
his head against mine long enough to understand my nerves and unhappiness. Then he licked my temple and darted out of the clearing, past the Fiddler.

  Brynn said, “I had music lessons for a few years.” There was a quaver in her voice and she kept one hand knotted in Heart’s ruff. “Are we going to go find this horn or what?”

  “Grim’s looking for a way out of this forest.” The ground was damp beneath me, but I leaned back anyhow to look at the sky and the worrying, unnatural full moon. I remembered falling, and dreaming of Hades. I kept landing with a thump on hard ground and jerking awake to the sound of music. I had to concentrate on what to do next, but I couldn’t seem to make my mind work right. My thoughts ran in circles, as if chasing something only visible peripherally.

  “I’m afraid the radius of my distortion is rather large,” said the Fiddler, apologetically. “I hadn’t intended to stay, but when I discovered what had happened as a result of my last visit—”

  Abruptly, I realized what the problem was and I sat up. “It’s that song you were playing earlier. Finish it.”

  An impish smile flashed across the Fiddler’s face. “Is Arabet bothering you?”

  “Please?” I asked. “I keep trying to finish the song—”

  “Me too,” sighed the Fiddler. He raised Arabet the Howler and started to play where he’d left off before. The music danced through the air and I closed my eyes to listen. It painted strange pictures behind my eyes: of stars swooping around and singing to each other, of a comet spiraling through a nebula, inviting each of the stars to a dance, and leaving them all atitter behind him. Nonsensical thoughts, and once the song ended, they faded away like a dream.

  I opened my eyes. My head felt clear, but I was curled up on the ground, my cheek on my hands. I stretched out and my body felt stiff. Brynn was similarly curled up an arm’s length away, while Yejun sat with his arms around his legs and his chin sunk between his knees. His hair fell across his face, but Heart could feel how distant and sad he was. She rested between us, head on her paws, while Nod stood, alert and irritated, watching the Fiddler with his ears flattened. The Fiddler himself stood easily, his instrument at his side as he gazed back at Nod.

  We’d lost time. How much, I wasn’t sure. Dogs aren’t the best judge of time when the light doesn’t change, and the wrong moon hadn’t moved. Grim stood behind the Fiddler. Hiding, I realized. He hadn’t found the trail. He hadn’t found a way out, either. He’d trotted away from our glade and ended up right back where he started, like we were on the inside of a bubble.

  “Did you find your song?” Brynn asked as she unfolded herself. “Did I fall asleep?”

  “Yes,” said Yejun, dully.

  At the same time, the Fiddler shook his head. “No. It is elusive.”

  I stood up. “So is this trail we’re trying to follow.” I glared at the Fiddler. “Your music stole time from us. We didn’t have a lot to start with. You need to leave and take your little bubble of forest with you.”

  “Oh, I can’t leave now. That would be dreadfully irresponsible,” said the Fiddler firmly. “But what are you chasing?”

  “We’re following a trail back to its source,” I explained, short-tempered. “Made by a demon sort of thing. Or maybe a faerie. A celestial, anyhow. One of you.”

  The Fiddler smiled faintly. “Not one of me. This nook of the cosmos isn’t my usual haunt. That’s why I thought it would be safe to leave this troublesome song here. But come, describe your trail to me and perhaps I can help you find it.”

  I stared at him, baffled. How did you describe a trail? And even if I could, how would describing it in words be helpful at all? “It smells like acid and greed and tears and musk and—and this is stupid.” I scowled at the Fiddler, irritated by his expression of bland, almost blank interest.

  Yejun raised his head. “Maybe I can... if you...” and he trailed off, frowning. “I don’t know.” He knuckled his forehead. “I wish...” But he didn’t finish whatever he wished, staring fixedly at the ground instead.

  “I know,” said Brynn. She cleared her throat and started singing.

  After a moment, I realized it was that new song that had played when the Huntsman appeared. The song from the band called Gravity’s Angels, and she was wearing the band’s shirt.

  I barely had a chance to wonder at Tia’s games before Yejun lunged for Brynn. “No! Don’t—”

  Heart interposed herself in a flash, barking furiously, foam flying from her mouth as she warned Yejun away. Yejun recoiled, right back into me. As soon as I put my hand on Yejun’s arm, Heart quieted with a final snort. She gave Yejun a scornful look, then turned to lick Brynn’s sleeve. Brynn, her song frozen on her lips, patted her warily.

  “Why is she trying to summon him?” Yejun demanded. “Why is the dog letting her?”

  “It’s okay, I think. There’s no ghosts here, right?” I looked at the Fiddler dubiously. “Maybe it will give him the trail.”

  Brynn shifted uncomfortably. “The faeries come when that song is played. Ms. Zelaya said the Wild Hunt does, too. I thought it might be the trail, for a musician. My dad’s always following music around.” She studied her fingernails. “It was just an idea.”

  “I know a version of this song,” offered the Fiddler. “It’s why I returned to this world. It wasn’t what I hoped it was, but it did give me the chance to see the mess I’d made last time I was here.”

  “Oh,” said Brynn, disappointed.

  He raised a finger. “I know a version, but not your version. Will you continue singing? Language is a little hard for me sometimes. Music is easier.”

  Yejun’s arm was as hard as a rock under my fingers and he was breathing hard, but he didn’t move. I realized that he’d been ready for that song, or for the Huntsman to appear, for a while. Maybe since Alastor had attacked his mentors. “You okay?” I asked him. I loosened my fingers, but didn’t stop touching him. Sometimes touch helped.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Jen’s not here. But if this asshole does appear, I’m going to do whatever I can to him, no matter what Tia says.”

  Brynn swallowed and started singing again. Her voice cracked at first, but when nobody interrupted her, she grew in confidence. She knew the song perfectly and any other time, I would have enjoyed her performance. But I was too busy looking around for the Huntsman or something else to appear, and too aware of the warmth of Yejun’s arm under my fingers. But as the song went into the final verse, I found I was humming along—it was catchy—and since nothing had appeared by then, I joined in for the chorus, thinking about the Huntsman as he’d pointed at me.

  After our last notes faded away, the Fiddler closed his eyes for a long moment. Slowly, I released Yejun’s arm, realizing as I did that my hold had slowly tightened into a deathgrip while Brynn sang. He flexed his fingers and gave me a sideways glance under lowered lids.

  When the Fiddler opened his eyes again, they gleamed like molten gold. “Ah. Yes. I think I can help you.” The violin hummed with the sound of his voice again. He raised it into position and brushed the lightning-strung bow across the strings.

  What came out was not music, but a storm.

  -nine-

  For the third time in an hour, I lost track of where I was. It was a horrible thing. Wind howled out of the violin, sweeping up leaves and twigs and dust into a storm of debris. Clouds rolled in behind the wrong moon and rain blew sideways into my face and lightning chased thunder backwards across the sky. I could no longer see the clearing. I could no longer see my friends. I could barely see my hands. I staggered toward Heart, who was closest to me, and when I touched her ruff, I felt the ground again beneath my feet. I reached out my other hand and found Nod, and my bewilderment was replaced by anger. When Grim touched the back of my knee, I had had enough. I spread out my awareness through all three of the dogs and found my friends. Friends? Were they friends? Had I used that word?

  Whatever they were, they were my responsibility. Mine to care for, mine to guard, mine to
play with.

  You have to understand, I wasn’t really feeling like myself just then. I was angry and I was lost and I was afraid. And I was all of us.

  I shouted my frustration at the storm. It laughed back at me and, with a thump, it deposited us on the ground again and raced out across the forest.

  We were still in the clearing, or maybe back in the clearing again: Brynn and Yejun and the dogs and me. The Fiddler was gone. Almost everything else was the same, but the only other difference was a major one. The scent trail of the Huntsman and the demon Alastor roiled around us fresh as the moment it was laid, rising from the soil and dripping from the leaves. It was too good to be real, but I didn’t know how not to trust our noses. Somehow—I couldn’t even imagine how—the Fiddler had found the trail and transferred it through the distortion that hid it. It was like a road now, broad and sweet and open. And it was pungent, too. I could barely smell anything else.

  I sprang forward, eager to make up lost time. Then I remembered my companions (companions, that was a better word, a safer word) and I turned back to them. Heart had the edge of Brynn’s baggy shorts clenched between her teeth while Grim held Yejun’s shirt.

  “Hey,” said Yejun foggily. “Don’t tear it. It’s a good shirt.” Grim rolled his eyes at me before releasing the shirt delicately and standing on his hind legs to lick Yejun’s face.

  “Did it work? What happened?” asked Brynn, setting her camera bag on the ground and checking its contents.

  “A trail so wide even Nod can follow it,” I said tersely. Nod, sitting by the edge of the clearing, gave me a dirty look.

  Brynn flashed me a proud, triumphant smile. “Great! See, I am helpful.” She looked around. “Where did the Fiddler go?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe he had to leave so we’d pick up the trail. Or maybe he’s still here, in another layer of the Backworld. It doesn’t matter as long as we have the trail.”

  Yejun looked around, then shook off his confusion and Grim’s paws on his shoulders. “You know that song awfully well. It’s a dangerous song. You should know it less well.”