Free Shadowlands by Violette Malan Page A

given
dra’aj
oaths.” He cleared his throat. “Some of us have gone too far down the Basilisk Prince’s path to follow the High Prince now.” The Starward Rider rubbed at his lower lip. For the first time, Fox saw the tremble in his hands, the sweat on his brow. Saw, and
smelled
it for what it was.
    The Basilisk’s path, is that what they were calling it? Fox smiled, and even Claw flickered into his Rider form long enough to bark out a short laugh. That was a path they knew all about. That path brought you to the Hunt. If Stump was really lost, then Badger would need someone new to complete her Five.
    “We don’t care about Princes here,” Fox said aloud. “But we can get you what you need.”
    The Sunward licked his lips, his eyes flicking from side to side as he tried to watch the Hounds around him. Finally he nodded.
    “Claw.” Fox crooked his finger at his Hound. “Take our new Pack mate and show him where he can feed. Feed yourselves while you’re at it. Claw!” The three Hounds stopped their circling of the Rider at the whip in Fox’s voice. “I’ll want to see our friend Longshadow later, so make sure you look after him. And make sure youlook after those little jobs I’ve given you, before you eat your dinners.”
    He waited until they were all at the top of the stairs before he stopped them again. “And, Claw? Find the girl. Follow her, but don’t get caught. She smells like Rider, and I need to know where she fits in this Hunt.”
    Claw scampered away, changing into a dog, a dragon-shaped wingless thing, and back to a Rider before reaching the doorway.
    Fox relaxed enough to let his Rider form change, and melted back into the shadows of the concrete cavern to think. As soon as Longshadow had completely turned, Fox could question him about Stormwolf. He
had
to find out what had happened to his brother. Had he Faded with the Basilisk, or would Fox have to fight him now for the leadership of the Pack?
    On the other hand, the Horn was obviously gone—lost or broken—and there might be other potential Hounds among the abandoned followers of the Basilisk. Maybe even another Five. Maybe more. And as for those who weren’t changing, they might still be allies—as long as they didn’t have the Horn.
    Hounds or allies, Fox could increase his numbers. A must if the plan that was forming in his mind was going to work. He’d need a way to persuade this new High Prince that coming after them would be too costly. That it would be easier to just let the Hunt keep the Shadowlands for themselves.
    What
was
this human girl? If the old Rider valued her as much as it looked, maybe he could use her to make the Riders listen.

    Wolf stepped through the crossroads into a quiet darkness smelling of cooling metal, of diesel exhaust, of cold stone, of cleaning fluids. There were no sounds, no people, and precious few lights to be seen, and yet this was the right crossroads, this was Union Station in Toronto. What could it mean? In both Rome and Madrid the train stations that sat on the crossroads had been full of light and sound and humans.
    All he saw in the semidarkness was a large empty room, numbered exits and entrances, silent escalators waiting to take absent people to the other levels. Wolf shut his eyes and shook his head before openingthem again. There was no hidden message here, no unexplained tragedy. It was simply that the station was closed. Like so many things, paranoia was a useful servant, and a poor master.
    Wolf set out into the concourse, away from the crossroads and the Portal, so tempting, from which he imagined he could smell the air of the Lands. He had no excuse to go through. Nighthawk, the old Warden, would carry word to the High Prince that Wolf followed the trail she had set him, and that the Water Sprite, Shower of Stars, had requested aid to return to the Lands; he would carry word even about the Hound. All of which left Wolf free to come to Toronto.
    He followed the instructions the