Haley's eyelids were flickering. She let out a soft whine. I stroked her cheek as her eyes opened, and murmured to her to lie still. She looked confused, but unhurt. I was relieved by the thought that she was already recovering from the drug.
I shot a glance at the house: nothing looked unusual there. Then at the garage. My hackles rose as I saw that the door was open. I couldn't tell, with my feeble human eyes, if anyone was inside. And so I changed, only remembering to tear off my clothes at
the very last moment.
The garage was empty. There was no sign of Jane. None of the furniture had been disturbed, and there were no signs of violence. Had it not been for Haley, lying drugged in the yard, I might have thought that Jane had simply woken up and wandered away. She was unlikely to have remembered where she was, and would have had no compelling reason to stay.
No, someone had taken Jane away. His smell lingered in my doss like a bad spoor: a combination of sweat-damp wool fabric and musky cologne. He'd even left his mark in my toilet. I quickly covered its stench with my own spoor.
The worst part was, I had no idea whether he was friend or foe to Jane. Nor would she know. Even if he was a total stranger to her, Jane would have gone with him willingly.
I growled at the thought. Then I went to work.
Jane's scent was easy to track. Even though we hadn't spent much time together, I knew it well. It had a certain appeal that kept it fresh in my memory.
As I ran through the yard, I barked at Haley. She was already on her feet, somewhat unsteady but looking around. I stopped to rub my muzzle reassuringly against hers, then left the yard and nudged the gate shut with my shoulder.
I followed the scent down the lane, and into Robie Street. As I loped down that busy road in full daylight, I heard more than one person shout in alarm as I bowled past them. As far as the citizens of Halifax were concerned, a large and potentially dangerous wolf—a
wild
animal
—was on the loose. Mothers yanked their children out of my path and pedestrians parted when they saw me coming, leaving the sidewalks clear. One go-boy even dumped his motorcycle as he lost control in an intersection I was barreling through.
Several minutes after I'd started tracking Jane, I heard sirens. I threw back my head and howled as I ran.
My
pack!
I thought.
Run
with
me
.
Together
we'll
find
Jane
. Her scent was getting stronger, fresher. I was almost there.
But then I realized my mistake. The only reason a patrol car would have been heading in my direction was if someone had called in a report of a wild animal on the loose. I didn't have time to waste explaining who I was to the patrol officers. Even if they recognized me as one of Lone Star's irregular assets, they might just arrest me anyway, for loping around the city in animal form. No, I had to lose them.
A Ford Americar with gold stars emblazoned across its doors squealed around the corner, one block away. But I didn't think the police officers had spotted me yet. I ducked between two parked cars, then crawled low and fast into a store. I was sneaky and quick; no one inside the store spotted me. The blaring music inside the shop had blocked out the sound of the siren, and nobody was looking in the direction of the door when I crawled in under the display racks. But I realized a second later that the police officers
had
spotted me. The siren dopplered closer as the car cut across traffic and screeched into a double-park outside the store.
I thanked the spirits for my luck in choosing a clothing store to duck into. I shifted back into human form, then yanked a pair of jeans down from the rack I was hiding under. Luckily, they were too big, rather than too small. I pulled down an oversized tank top and slid it on. Then I stood up, hands in my pockets to hold up the jeans.
Car doors slammed as one police officer jumped out of the patrol car. The other officer would follow in another moment or two, after reporting in to Dispatch.
I sidled toward the door as the first uniformed officer entered. Pistol in hand, he ordered everyone inside to clear the store.
Immediately
. I had no problem complying. I jandered down the sidewalk, hoping nobody would notice my bare feet—or the ink stains that had splattered on the jeans when I tore off the plastic tags that would trigger the store's antishoplifting alarms. The Day-Glo orange ink felt like wet blood on my ankle and was dripping onto the sidewalk.
I spotted a hardware store and strolled inside. I boosted a length of heavy twine, stuffing it into my pocket. I felt guilty about it as I left the store, but I figured I wasn't
really
breaking the law. I was merely commandeering materials in the line of duty. Jane had been kidnapped, and I was the investigating officer on the scene.
Telling myself that made me feel better as I threaded the twine through the belt loops of the stolen jeans. I tied it in a knot at my navel, and the jeans stayed in place. Then I looked around.
The uniforms were getting back into their patrol car. I could imagine the puzzled frowns they must have been wearing behind their tinted helmet visors. A wolf had disappeared, apparently into thin air. I was glad the officers weren't from the Magical Task Force. They'd have realized instantly that they were dealing with a shifter and would have spotted my true form the instant they used astral sensing.
I didn't dare change back into wolf form. Instead I strolled as casually as I could over to the end of the block where I'd last smelled Jane's scent, and waited until the cops were gone and the sidewalk was relatively clear. Then I bent down as it I'd dropped something under a parked car and was looking for it. I pressed my nose to the sidewalk, closed my eyes, and took a long, deep sniff on the concrete.
Drek, but it was hard to find a scent with a human nose. My sense of smell was keener by far than an ordinary human's, but after being in wolf form, it was like trying to smell something through a nose plugged by a cold. I caught only the faintest whiff of Jane.
It was enough. I knew she'd come at least this far.
I repeated the ruse at the end of each block, sometimes having to double back and round a corner and try another direction before I caught the scent. It took a long time; I had to wait for any pedestrians who'd seen me look under a car in the previous block to pass by before taking another sniff. But the trail grew ever fresher. It eventually became so strong I
knew
I'd find Jane within a block or two, at most.
The scent of the man who had come for Jane was also growing stronger. I'd have to be careful.
I was standing on Terminal Road, in front of the Via Rail station, a massive rectangle of a building whose antique stonework was from a century far removed from the ultra-modern maglev trains that now departed from it. Via Rail used to be what they called a "crown corporation" in the previous century, back when there was still a country called Canada. Its claim to fame was that it linked the nation from sea to sea; you could get aboard a train in Halifax, and five days later arrive in Vancouver, on the Pacific Coast.
The trains don't run to Vancouver anymore. Not since that city was swallowed up by the Salish-Shidhe Council. Nor do they run to what used to be central Canada, which is now the Algonkian-Manitou Council, nor to Quebec, which declared itself an independent nation in 2022. These days the trains are routed south, down through Buffalo and Detroit, with service west to Winnipeg. And Via Rail is part of the Symington Corporation, which in turn is owned by Saeder-Krupp, a German megacorp.
I wondered where the man who had come for Jane was taking her. And whether I was already too late to stop him.
I entered the building, every sense on alert. The Via Rail terminal is cavernous and echoing, filled with the sounds of people talking and loudspeaker announcements of trains arriving and departing. A wave of scents washed over me: human, meta, fast food, and the pungent, burnt smell of roasted coffee. There was no way I'd be able to pick up Jane's trail inside the building—not in human form, anyway. I had to rely on sight to find her.
As I made my way into the crowd, I heard music playing up ahead. I thought it was just a passenger carrying a boom box, but then I spotted the Music Man. Despite the urgency of my search, I was caught up in his music for just a second or two.
"Music Man" was what they called him in the North End neighborhood where he lived. Nobody knew his name. He was mute—either that or he chose never to speak a word out loud. Instead he spoke through his music. He was human, dark-skinned, maybe fifty-plus years old, and scrawny for his race. His head of thinning gray hair only came to mid-chest level on me. He'd spent every nuyen he scrounged over the years on cybernetic implants of a very specific type. Hidden under his skin were a series of sensors, synthesizers, and speakers that he used to produce his music. As his hands slapped or stroked his skin, the subdermal speakers produced an incredible variety of synthesized sounds: from a rumbling mechanical grind-guitar to a high, clear flute; from the haunting cry of a whale to the tinkling of bells.
Music Man had obviously moved up in the world if he was busking at the train terminal. Via Rail charged an exorbitant licensing fee of its buskers. Music Man must have been making good nuyen these days.
I spared him a brief nod as I hurried past. He answered by running a finger in an oval along his inner arm, producing a wail reminiscent of a siren. Then he gave me a cymbal-crash wink.
I walked briskly through the terminal, searching for Jane and trying not to call attention to myself as my eyes darted back and forth. I looked for her in the lineups, at the automated booths where tickets were sold, in waiting lounges, at telecom booths, at fast-food stands, and on the maglev platforms themselves. The latter were a confusion of noise and movement, filled with flowing waves of passengers. The high-speed trains slid in and out of the station on a cushion of air, filling the high-ceilinged platform area with an eerie whistle that was too high for ordinary human ears to hear. The sound made the hair on the tips of my ears quiver, and set my teeth on edge.
I was getting a few looks from people in the station. The Via Rail security guards gave me the once-over, eyeing my bare feet and twine belt and trying to decide if I was here to cajole a few credits from passengers. It helped that the jeans and shirt were new. It made the oversize clothes look more like a fashion trend. I just hoped the guards wouldn't ask what train I was boarding and demand to see my ticket.
If I'd been carrying any credit on me, I'd have purchased a ticket for a city close by, just to look legit. But I'd left my credstick at home when I changed into wolf form. The security guards would quickly conclude that a SINless person like me was a beggar, and would hustle me out of the station pretty frigging fast.
I returned to the main lobby, feeling desperate. I couldn't see or smell Jane anywhere. Then, just when I figured she must have already boarded a train, I spotted her emerging from a single-cubicle washroom. I cursed my luck; if I'd caught up with her a few seconds earlier, I might have slipped in after her and spoken to her alone, found out what was going on.
I approached her as casually as I could, nodding and smiling when I got close. Her brown eyes glanced at me for a moment, then slid away. There hadn't been a single flicker of recognition in them. I bit down on my disappointment and strolled past her, not wanting to give myself away yet. I wanted to find out whether she was still with the man who'd drugged Haley.
She was.
He was sitting in a plastiform chair near the washroom. Tall and slender, he had shoulder-length, raven-black hair pulled back from his face with a gold hair clip, revealing the pointed ears of an elf. He was dressed in expensive clothes, like a corporate exec: a black wingtip-collar shirt under a black pinstriped suit with golden threads. The pattern matched his hair, which was streaked with metallic gold, and there was also gold on his chest: a sword-shaped tie pin. His eyes were gold too; either cybernetic implants or tinted vanity lenses. A carefully groomed mustache and beard framed his lips, which were pressed together in a firm line. I could tell from his expression and the cold look in his metallic eyes that this was a man who took everything in life seriously.
I was close enough to him now to smell his scent: the wool of his fashionable suit, the cologne he wore. I could also catch a faint trace of whatever drug he'd used on Haley coming from one of his suit pockets. I was glad he hadn't used it on Jane. I'd have been unable to follow them here if he'd carried or driven her to the station.
The elf rose to his feet with a fluid grace. He stood firm-footed on the ground in a ready stance, his narrowed eyes instinctively watching for signs of danger. He was very much the alpha male; I pictured him as the leader of his pack. I could tell he felt comfortable in his body, in tune with every sinew and muscle. And yet he didn't rely on his body alone. Despite the fact that his suit was elegantly cut, I could see a small bulge under his left arm that suggested he was carrying a holstered weapon.
I shifted my vision to the astral plane for a moment, and recognized in his aura the distinctive coloration of an adept—someone who used his innate magical abilities to hone his body into a weapon. There was a dead spot in his aura, just over his left ear. Probably a cybernetic implant of some sort. But his eyes were his own; the gold irises were indeed vanity lenses.
The elf handed Jane a small blue rectangle: a ticket. Because I was viewing it astrally, I couldn't read the destination printed on it, but I knew that blue was used for one-way trip tickets. They were going ... somewhere. And not coming back.