登陆注册
10440000000003

第3章 PROLOGUE

It was the early hours before dawn. A cool mist hung over the waters of the great lake, which lay still and luminous in the moonlight. The sandy beach was deserted except for the wolf. He was a big animal, black-haired, with a white star across his chest. His eyes glowed like amber. After exploring the bluffs overlooking the lake, he padded softly along the boardwalk. Now he stopped. Sniffed the air. On the edges of the wind came a stench that repelled him. What was it? It emanated from the city beyond.

There was a moment's hesitation. The wolf had only recently come down from the North and he was not yet at home in this territory. For the short time he had lived there, he had kept to the nature trails and the marshes bordering the river that ran into the lake. But he was no ordinary wolf. He wasn't afraid of urban streets and tonight he felt called to the heart of the city.

It was easy to travel in the dark. Traffic was sporadic and few pedestrians were abroad. Anyone who spotted him assumed he was a stray dog, too big to approach. Nearing the city center, he skulked through the shadows of office blocks, hotels, and apartment buildings. The streets were almost empty except for night-shift workers and the homeless who made their beds in doorways and bus shelters. He nosed the air with distaste. What couldn't be seen could be sensed: the sewers under the sidewalks, the smell of overcrowding, the fear and entrapment, bad dreams, failed hopes.

With relief, he reached the green circle of Queen's Park. Avoiding the pools of light shed by lamps on the walkways, he inhaled the night perfume of trees and flowers. Though the park was empty, it spoke to him of the day's events. Here, the evidence of two dogs who had scuffled together in play. There, a popcorn kernel dropped from a hand-pushed wagon and missed by squirrels. Farther ahead, the track of an electronic wheelchair crossing bicycle treads. The odor of humans was everywhere: an old man who fed pigeons as their white droppings splattered over his bench; students from the university weighed down with books; Sufi dancers inscribing the grass with prints as light as sparrows'.

A song floated on the currents of night air, wafting toward him. He raised his head to listen. It came from the government buildings beyond. He moved to investigate.

The Legislative Building of the Province of Ontario was an impressive fortress of rose-colored sandstone. The walls were arched and carved with friezes. Lion heads and gargoyles grimaced above the wide steps. The wolf peered upward at the vaulted roof. Owls were gathering to hold their own parliament. He could hear the concern in their low hootings. He was not the only one disturbed that night.

The song he was tracing grew louder now, as if calling to him. It didn't come from the dim galleries inside. Around the corner of the building, he found the singer. It was a statue of a tall angelic man with shoulder-length hair and a loose robe skirting bare feet. He appeared to be walking across a low stone wall. He held a book in his hands. His head was bowed over it.

"What are you reading?" the wolf wondered out loud.

"A book of dreams."

The voice seemed to come from far away.

"Whose dreams?"

"Ah, that is the question."

Riddles. It was a night of mystery.

"Strange times," he said, "when statues talk."

"And wolves listen."

The wolf barked a laugh, but he was uneasy. "Why were you singing?"

"To ward off evil. Something wicked this way comes."

"I knew it. I can smell it."

"Will you fight?"

"It's not my business."

"There is no neutral ground in this war. The thing hates all life wherever it is found."

The wolf shuddered. In his heart, he knew that the statue spoke the truth. The scent itself was almost overpowering. Sour and metallic. A noxious leak in the air. Like something rotten, yet it wasn't organic, so how could it rot? He wanted to gag. There was no point in debating the matter. He knew to which side he belonged.

Racing away, nose to the ground, the wolf followed the trail easily. The buildings around him grew taller, pressed closer, making him anxious. He had reached the financial heart of the city. All around him were the head offices of banks, insurance companies, and law firms. He stayed in the shadows, always on guard. When the sound echoed overhead, he flattened himself against the pavement.

It was a feathery, whispering, sighing sound, like an onrush of wind, filling the air. The susurration of wings surging like the sea.

Relieved, the wolf looked skyward. Of course. The season had begun. The Great Fall Migration. Through the darkness they flew, immense flocks of birds. For millennia they had followed this route, foraging for food by day, traveling by night. Each spring they set out for their breeding grounds in the north and each autumn they returned to warmer climes. It was a journey bred into their being.

The wolf was so caught up in the beauty of the birds' flight that the new sound came like a blow to his ears. The thud of a small body as it fell to earth. The sound came again. And again. And again. Like hard rain. Like bullet casings. The wolf searched the shadows with keen eyes. Now he saw them, scattered at the base of the office towers, on the steps, and in the doorways. Tiny bodies, stunned or lifeless.

For millennia they had followed this route but suddenly, in so short a time, everything had changed. Before they could cross the great lake of Ontario, they faced a perilous test that so many would fail. The buildings and towers that stood directly in their path shed a niagara of glass and blinding light. In the dark, the combination of glass and light was deadly.

The wolf's lips peeled back in a snarl. The death of the birds had already upset him, but there was something else. Something worse. The guard hairs on his body bristled from top to tail. The thing he could smell was nearby. It leaned casually against a wall, watching the birds die. It was enjoying the sight, feeding on the misery with a cold ravening hunger.

The wolf growled low in his throat. The thing had no form that he recognized. It was a thick slimy mass, scaled and tentacled, glowing a sickly toxic green. Along with the telltale odor that was sour and metallic, its body seemed to vibrate with sound. The waspish drone buzzed loudly in the wolf's head, making his teeth chatter.

Without thinking twice, he launched himself at the monster.

Too late, the wolf realized that he was no match for his enemy. Before he could even get near to the creature, the viscid tentacles snaked through the air and caught him in a death grip. Slowly, mercilessly, the grip tightened, choking the life out of him.

Still, he fought back. This was his inheritance. A fierceness that was proud and lonely. A tearing, a howling, a hunger and thirst. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst. A wild strength that would die fighting, kicking, screaming, that wouldn't stop till the last breath had been wrung from his body.

The wolf's eyes closed as the darkness gathered.

Then human voices rang through the air.

Three people turned the corner, bundled up In sweaters and scarves against the chill of pre-dawn. Two were women-a pretty college student and a gray-haired matron with strong, good-natured features. They were accompanied by a man in his early thirties, lean-jawed and determined. All carried brown paper bags and butterfly nets. In hushed tones they joked about dragging themselves out of bed for early patrols. Holy quests in the dark. None of them were morning people. All of them were bird people.

Quietly, sadly, they stooped to retrieve the small bodies. Gently, reverently, they handled the slain.

"This one's alive!" the student cried. Her voice quavered with relief. Then a half sob. "Just barely."

The tiny body of a hummingbird rested in her palm, not much bigger than a dragonfly and as delicate and fragile. It moved feebly. She hurried to the others to offer her find. Under her breath she repeated her mantra. I will not cry.

With the quiet efficiency of a nurse, the older woman removed her gloves to inspect the bird.

"Broken beak. Wing damage, see how it droops? The eyes are swollen. Collision injuries. Michael-"

The team leader had already blown air into a paper bag and lined it with tissue. Softly, softly he placed the bird inside.

"I hate bagging them," the student murmured. "Much better than a box," Michael told her. "If they panic, the paper has give and is less likely to hurt them. We'll look for the living now, bag them, and get them to the Center. Then we'll return for the dead."

"There are a lot more dead," the student said bitterly.

She glared at the buildings, lit up like Christmas trees, creating the fatal light that trapped its victims. She knew the statistics. Hundreds of millions died every year due to collisions with human structures. Why keep the lights on? It was neither cheap nor efficient. Some firms liked the prestige-look at me on the skyline!-others were simply too lazy to make the arrangements to turn them off. Old habits die hard.

So do small birds.

She returned to her work, face streaked with tears. The two older volunteers exchanged a look. Unless the girl hardened she wouldn't be able to continue. It happened to many. Like the birds on the sidewalk, they broke inside.

Hidden from sight, in an alcove where he had dragged himself, the wolf watched the three work. They had revived his spirits. He was already recovering from the deadly attack. The monster itself was long gone, having fled a power much greater than itself.

Banished by love.

同类推荐
  • Fated (Book #11 in the Vampire Journals)

    Fated (Book #11 in the Vampire Journals)

    TURNED is a book to rival TWILIGHT and VAMPIRE DIARIES, and one that will have you wanting to keep reading until the very last page! If you are into adventure, love and vampires this book is the one for you!
  • Shine
  • Inheritors

    Inheritors

    "e;Powerful and provocative …Each time I revisit "e;The Inheritors"e; I find something new."e; (Penelope Lively). This was a different voice; not the voice of the people. It was the voice of other. When the spring came the people moved back to their familiar home. But this year strange things were happening - inexplicable sounds and smells; unexpected acts of violence; and new, unimaginable creatures half-glimpsed through the leaves. Seen through the eyes of a small tribe of Neanderthals whose world is hanging in the balance, "e;The Inheritors"e; explores the emergence of a new race - ourselves, Homo sapiens - whose growing dominance threatens an entire way of life. "e;An earthquake in the petrified forest of the English novel."e; (Arthur Koestler). It comes with a new introduction by John Carey.
  • The Rise and Fall of the Gallivanters

    The Rise and Fall of the Gallivanters

    In Portland in 1983, girls are disappearing. Noah, a teen punk with a dark past, becomes obsessed with finding out where they've gone —and he's convinced their disappearance has something to do with the creepy German owners of a local brewery, the PfefferBrau Haus. Noah worries about the missing girls as a way of avoiding the fact that something's seriously wrong with his best friend, Evan. Could it be the same dark force that's pulling them all down? When the PfefferBrau Haus opens its doors for a battle of the bands, Noah pulls his band, the Gallivanters, back together in order to get to the bottom of the mystery. But there's a new addition to the band: an enigmatic David Bowie look-alike named Ziggy. And secrets other than where the bodies are buried will be revealed. From Edgar-nominated author M. J. Beaufrand, this is a story that gets to the heart of grief and loss while also being hilarious, fast paced, and heartbreaking.
  • Welcome to Dog Beach (The Seagate Summers #1)
热门推荐
  • 认同的力量

    认同的力量

    高度认同,绝对跟从。认同,才能不断得到认可、赞同、肯定。本书力图通过认同唤醒职场人的“家意识”,从而在具体工作中,做到心随企业而动,行则自觉自律、自动自发、高标准严要求,从而达到与企业合二为一的高境界。
  • 戴明贤集(第二卷):茶味行役

    戴明贤集(第二卷):茶味行役

    本书为《戴明贤集》第二卷,记录了作者这一生亲历的诸多人和事,是作者从少年到老年的“行状”。作者自认其人生道路平淡,虽有苦有乐,但在大动荡的时代背景(抗日战争、解放战争、政治运动、改革开放)中,不过是一点微不足道的‘茶杯风波’”。在耄耋之年回首人生之路,认为其像茶之味——微涩、稍苦、回甘;又因文中所记多属行旅见闻,故以“茶味行役”为名。
  • 冷宫弃后:皇上,滚下榻

    冷宫弃后:皇上,滚下榻

    她,姬九梦来自异世界的灵魂,没想到有一天她也会像古人一样听父母之命,嫁给一个连面都没见过的人。她与他,是缘,是孽?他是一国之君,因为先皇的遗言娶她为后。洞房花烛他冷漠的离去,成亲的第二天,他便纳妃羞辱她。对她厌恶至极,第三天把她丢弃到冷宫不闻不问。在这场没有爱的纠葛中,她失了身又失了心。最后把自己弄得伤痕累累,化成一缕银丝……“九九,这辈子你休想离开本皇!”“没有本皇的命令你不准死!本皇命令你醒过来!九九!”谁许她一世繁华,却给她一片霜华。
  • 正一敕坛仪

    正一敕坛仪

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 若为落白故

    若为落白故

    (新书已发,《司夜公子》,感谢鸡翅~)“千里江山一夜雪,君王从此作良人”李容若和苏落白的故事,谢谢大家喜欢~
  • 寿衣

    寿衣

    表姐送我一件礼物,我打开后,竟然是一件死人才会穿的藏青色寿衣,我急忙扔进了垃圾桶,可是,这件寿衣却总是悄无声息的穿在我身上……
  • 义盗记

    义盗记

    本书为公版书,为不受著作权法限制的作家、艺术家及其它人士发布的作品,供广大读者阅读交流。汇聚授权电子版权。
  • 前夫倒插门

    前夫倒插门

    “我们,离婚吧!”说这话的时候,她都感觉到自己的心在窒息,只是,她别无选择。“好。”对于她的请求,他,从不曾拒绝。听到这么简单的一个字,她顿时觉得如置冰窟。原来,是真的不在乎啊!“相爱”两年,结婚五年,最初的她本以为自己是这个世界上最幸福的人。可是,二十岁那一年,新婚之夜,本是最幸福的时刻,却听到他低喃着不属于她的名字。后来,她才知道,原来,自己只是一个替身。一个永远都不会翻身的替身。他对她的好,只因为那个失去的她。他宠她,却从不爱她。对于她的要求,他从不会拒绝,就连结婚,他也只是顺从她的意思。呵呵,原来,是自己一直在做着自己编织的美梦。那么既然无法得到他的爱,有了一个替代品,也是不错的。转身,离开。她本以为从此以后两人再也没有交集,可是,为什么,离婚后,他对自己,仍旧不放手呢?“这个孩子?”再相见,她的身子,已经看得出有几个月的身孕了。“是我的男朋友的。”将自己靠在身边的人的肩膀,她的心在颤抖,不能让他知道,一定不能!可是,为什么,他从此纠缠上自己了呢?此文关于破镜重圆,关于遗忘,关于回归,关于很多很多,前面有点小郁闷,乃披着虐文外衣下面的宠文,希望大家多多支持。简介无能中,先这么看着吧,不行再改。小爱在这里各种求,求收藏,求票票,求留言,呵呵,你们懂的。。。投票加更已修改,一周票票超过七百,下周一加一更,亲们要积极投票票哦,哇咔咔。。。
  • 醉禛不过黛玉心

    醉禛不过黛玉心

    她,清冷如月他,冷漠傲然她是前朝皇嗣遗留的血脉。他是当朝尊贵的皇子。为她,他终究喋血后宫,弑杀兄弟。为他,她乔装改扮,夺回密诏。他可以为她夺取江山,放弃江山。她可以为他颠沛流利,辗转尘世。一时的相遇,几十年的相守,不需要太多的言语,有的只是彼此眼中的那一眸的温馨。片段:傲绝宫中:“为什么要为我做这么多事情?”她清冷的双眸中有的是不解。“自己去想。”他依旧一脸冷漠。雍亲王府:“你好似从来都不会怀疑我的决定。”他的眼中闪过一丝柔和。“自己去想。”她的嘴角泛起同样柔和。紫禁城前:“为什么你们就一定要选择离开呢。”作为他们的儿子,不掩饰脸上有一丝的不满。两人相视一笑:“自己去想。”这是正剧文,也是红楼文,喜欢小白的童鞋们,就千万别来挑刺。推荐好友作品《再嫁为后》
  • 绝色嗜血狂妃:凤杀天下

    绝色嗜血狂妃:凤杀天下

    本文女主腹黑强大,傲视天下,现代嚣张,异世照样狂傲。她是冷面狂傲的特工杀手,却被人背叛穿越成废柴四小姐。新生的她女扮男装,惊采绝艳,一举跃为绝世天才,让天下无数男女为之疯狂!谁又知道,这一笑惊天下,翻手为云,覆手为雨的人,竟是……她?【爽文快更,你敢不敢跟?】(情节虚构,切勿模仿)