Shadow Dancer (Kitsune series)

by Morgan Blayde

  I could breathe again, but my pulse still thudded in my ears. I didn’t want to get used up. However, getting locked in the glorified washing machine might be just the thing I needed. It would give my demon companion a chance to get bored outta his infernal skull, and hopefully leave. I was all for that. And surely these tanks weren’t that tough to beat. I could take it. I hoped.

  “So, uh, how long am I going in for?” I asked the old woman.

  Heading down the stairs, she called over her shoulder, “As long as it takes.”

  I hate answers like that.

  I decided to play stupid and get what information I could. “No matter how hard you try, getting me water-logged isn’t going to break me. I take a shower every day and I’m still standing.”

  The guard with the knife in her belt smiled sweetly. “Oh, you won’t feel the water. That’s part of what is going to break you. It’s heated to body temperature. As you float in there, unable to feel anything, the boundary between you and everything else will slowly dissolve—your sanity and defiance. We can’t have you causing problems at the ceremony. Summoning Am-Heh and controlling will be difficult enough.”

  I let a little fear show to egg on her cruelty. “You don’t scare me.”

  “You should be afraid. We will deprive you of sight and hearing. Your brain is used to sensory input. Do you know what will happen without that input?”

  With an uneasy look on her face, the other guard interrupted, “Are you sure you ought to be telling her all this? No good ever came from monologing.”

  Knife Girl shrugged, keeping her eyes on me, her hand on the hilt of her weapon. “Forewarned isn’t always forearmed. Not in this case. Whatever she knows won’t help her .

  “You’re sure of that, are you?” I said.

  Knife Girl grinned. “Oh, yes. You’re not the first person we’ve had in there.”

  I went over to the lip of the tank and looked in. Water waited, like a second womb. A shudder went through me. A minute later, the old woman was back. She handed the suit to me. I put it on under the sheet, preserving my modesty, which made both guards roll their eyes. I dropped the sheet. The suit was conforming but not tight, lacking seams. It seemed light as cheesecloth, but felt more like a nylon second skin. Standing virtually exposed, I felt like a comic book super heroine about to be destroyed by some evil deathtrap.

  The old woman went behind the hatch. She returned with a black globe, struggling a little with the weight of the helmet. “Don’t worry,” she said. “In the water, this will be weightless.” She set the helmet down, placed earplugs in my ears, and resettled the helmet over my head so darkness thickened, becoming absolute. An inflating bladder inside the helmet sealed it shut without choking me. Click … click … click... Hooking up an air line, I hoped. I wasn’t fond of suffocation.

  I shivered with vulnerability, blind, deaf, hating it all. I wanted to flail out as hands fell on me, but I forced myself to relax. They lifted and lowered me. I assumed I went into the water, but except for an extremely slight pressure on the suit, I felt nothing. My hands were pried from the ladder and I was given a little push.

  I felt a vibration through the water, the last one I could expect for quite some time. They’ve closed the hatch. I’m locked in. Locked … in…

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The tank was doing its stuff; I’d gone soggy-noodle limp and totally relaxed. I couldn’t feel where my skin ended and everything else began. The first hour—I’m guessing here—went by pleasurably. I hovered in the water. The Epsom salt raised the water’s density so it supported me really well. Since I wasn’t drifting around and bumping the sides of the tank, I figured enough heat was being added from the tank’s inner surface to create convection current, keeping me in place. My science teacher, back at my old school, would have been proud I figured it out. I never bothered taking notes; he swore I slept through his class with eyes wide open.

  I wish!

  An immeasurable behemoth, time ponderously passed me by. I began to ping-pong from one fancy to another. Like flashes of lightning, jumbled vision wrenched me from scene to scene. Hallucinations set in, more weird than terrifying. I relived the convenience store robbery that created my internet fame. Gramps was there, stuffing his face with peppermint ice cream. I threw a cold fireball at the robber. This time it hit him, and he burst into crackling, orange flames. Twisting, blackening, his screams died as he did. The cashier came out with a dustpan and broom.

  Then I was counting Shaun clones; sheep were boring. An infinite number of Shauns formed a line to a far, dark horizon. One by one, they leaped a rough wooden fence, bounding into my arms. As each one reached me, they faded like a dream within a dream. I was forever catching Shaun, only to be deprived of his touch, the warm crush of his arms, his burning lips...

  Gah! I can be so cruel to myself.

  The clones now held hands, dancing around me. I found myself imagining the many ways in which a kind fate could take Cassie out of the picture. Surely Shaun would want me if she weren’t a sword hanging over his head.

  What’s not to like?

  Cassie sprawled at my feet.

  A Shaun came over and sadly murmured, “Oh, what a shame, to die in the prime of life. She was only six hundred and three.”

  Another Shaun left the ring. He nudged Cassie with a foot. “Poor thing, crushed by a falling satellite from space—what were the chances!”

  Another Shaun, “A car accident. If only she hadn’t been texting behind the wheel.”

  All the Shauns were closing in. “Damn, a new viral strain of mad cow! Fast food can kill you.”

  “Oh, go away!” I screamed at them. There was simply no substitute for the real Shaun.

  The body on the ground became Ryan. He twitched and opened his eyes.

  I jumped back, the motion slow and effortless.

  He shifted to his knees. His tongue flopped a foot out of his mouth. Though the end was ragged, as if someone had recently bitten off the tip, his words were clear, “Pain from you is pleasure!”

  I kicked him in the face.

  Naked, he writhed in ecstasy on a bed of newly sprouted moss. “Yes, yes, give me more!”

  Suddenly, Tukka was there, standing in the middle of the air, like he couldn’t be bothered with gravity. Grace shouldn’t play with pervs. Tukka more fun.

  Ryan melted into the moss.

  The landscape blurred with dancing shadows. Then I stood in a ballroom. The columns were wrapped with white Christmas tree lights. A sappy pop song poured like syrup from the speakers. Mirror disco balls swirled specks of light over dancers. The kids were my age, dressed in pastel suits and gowns. A refreshment table stood against one wall, laden with a ton of chocolate and a punch bowl full of blood. Fran and Madison were there, handing out goodies to vampires in tuxedoes.

  There, this better. Tukka always there for you.

  “You sure like saying your name an awful lot,” I said. “And what’s this ‘always there for you’ stuff? You know I’m in enemy hands, right?”

  Shaun glided up to me, wearing a silk workout uniform. His eyes drank me in. “Hi, beautiful, want to dance?”

  I was suddenly wearing a diamond encrusted prom dress. My wings were full sized, lifting me a few inches into the air as I fluttered them. I was about to say yes when Fenn jumped on Shaun from out of nowhere.

  I blinked and they were in a clear area of floor, holding katanas, about to go at it.

  For some reason, I couldn’t really care about the outcome. Low blood sugar maybe. Tukka nudged me. My little girl has gotten so grown up. He sniffed.

  “Never mind that,” I listened to the clash of swords, “tell me how you could have gotten killed in your own dream. I am so disappointed in you.”

  Tukka roll over and play dead. Track witch back to her sleeping body. Find secret lair.

  “I wish that were true. I need a rescue about now.”

  Also had to get the boys together. Time to make Grace pack member.

/>   Movement at the balcony glass doors caught my attention. Leathery faces pressed up to the glass, peering in. Fu dogs. At least a dozen window-lickers. Tukka circled to face them. His voice roared out, cutting across the music and the swordplay. This is Grace, clan daughter and Tukka’s friend. Who touches her, touches the clan. Grace’s enemy, our enemy. He threw his head back even further, continuing to howl into infinity.

  The other fu dogs joined in. One by one, they tromped inside, trampling guests in their eagerness to approach. They took turns, sampling my scent with flaring nostrils. At least no one peed on me to make it official. As the last animal nosed me over, Endless Love swelled out of the speakers.

  The scene rippled. Endless Love … ended. I tottered and dropped—

  —onto a sea-wall made of white chocolate. I stared out across foam-capped waves. Chinese junks were in the harbor, ribbed, triangular sails burning gold in the setting sun that glazed the water. I lifted my head and saw the first star of night appear, then glanced over at a milky moon scything the clouds.

  I didn’t have to turn to know that an ancient Chinese city lay at my back. I could hear the bustling crowds, the excited voices of shoppers and merchants trying to cheat each other, the barking of dogs, somewhere, a minstrel plucking a stringed instrument. The rich spicy scent of Chinese cooking came on a meandering wind: ginger, sesame oil, pan fried pork… My mouth watered.

  I dropped my gaze from the red-bellied clouds, as Tukka swung his massive head my way. His breath smelled like catfish. I wondered if he’d had hush puppies with that.

  “Grace, like this place?” he was back to using Mel Gibson’s Braveheart voice again.

  I nodded. “It’s cool.”

  “Tukka live here once, few centuries ago. Tukka hero, save this place.”

  Hmmm. That piqued my curiosity. “Saved it from what?”

  “Sea dragon. Him big wuss. Run home to momma.” He offered me a fearsome grin. “Wanna see?”

  “Will it get me maimed, mauled, or killed?”

  “Nah, dream crashes, we jump to another one.”

  “Well, sure. Why not?” Yeah, I knew he was dead and this just a hallucination, but I needed him with me, even if it wasn’t really him.

  Dark clouds piled on the horizon—dusky violets and grays, bruised blues, churning into each other—all heading toward shore at breakneck speeds. Winds, heavy with brine, lashed at me. I raised a hand to shield my face. My anxious gaze swept the ships at anchor as they rocked atop the growing swells. The scene flickered; purple jags leaped from one cloud mass to the next, fire chasing its tail throughout the storm. Jagged ribbons of lightning slammed into the sea, brightening it in brief patches. Making a late entrance, thunder’s concussive wave made my whole body jerk in place.

  This wasn’t such a good idea after all. “Uh, Tukka ... maybe we should...”

  “Watch,” he said. “Here’s good part.”

  The water in the middle of the harbor swelled into a huge mound, as if trying to retaliate against the abuses of the sky. No, something was inside the mound, something big. It reared and shook itself, a sinuous length that coiled, writhing on the waves—a monstrous snake with dolphin fins and front arms that were short, ending in claws. Its head was a wedge with golden eyes and whiskers. Where ears should have been, fins laid back, sea blue with a red iridescence shimmering in the middle. Its muscular belly was lapis lazuli. Its back scales shone softly, aqua mottled with deeper blue.

  “A dragon!” I shouted to be heard with the wind tearing at my words. Living proof that not every monster wants Tokyo for lunch.

  “Sea dragon,” Tukka’s booming voice carried easily without him making an effort. “Kid’s a runt, but good pedigree.”

  I stared up at the behemoth. “If that’s a runt, I don’t want to see mom and dad.”

  “Bigger they are, more to bite.”

  The end of its tail cut up out of the water, giving the storm the finger, then clubbed down into a cluster of Chinese junks, pounding them into kindling, sending screaming fishermen into the waves.

  Just a dream, I reminded myself. These people have been dead for centuries. The scene was no different than a traumatized ghost looping its violent death over and over again, a reenactment.

  “Time to end this,” Tukka said.

  “Wouldn’t it be better to pick on something your own size?”

  Tukka gave me a side-long glance. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  He cranked his maw wide open, stretching like he’d eat the world’s largest candy bar. His gleaming white teeth were sharp, impressive. One could truly say the stuff of nightmares. His slobbery tongue humped up in the middle as he dragged in the longest breath I’ve ever seen. I could feel the raging winds spiraling, funneling down his gullet as if he harbored an extra spatial dimension inside him that was always ravenous. Of course, for all I knew of fu dogs, that might well be the case.

  The dragon went still, its face set toward us as though just realizing we were there. It left off playing with the last few ships, and undulated our way, carving across the sea with various sections of its body submerged.

  Despite the dream nature of the experience, my voice went high with fear, squeaking just a little, “Tukka! It’s coming!”

  He shot me another side-long glance. His thoughts answered, Don’t piddle your pants; Tukka got this nailed.

  Famous last words? I wondered.

  There was a stir behind me from pedestrians. A woman spotted the menace and gave warning in traditional fashion with a blood curdling scream. Some of the guys joined in. I heard feet slapping the street as people ran deeper into the city.

  The dragon moved lower in the sea, letting me see something a lot smaller and black clinging to the back of its skull. The motion of the beast didn’t let me get a good look.

  I turned toward Tukka, suddenly aware that his long breath had ended. His side looked puffy, balloon-like. A pin seemed likely to burst him. His mouth continued to gape like the muzzle of cannon. The lavender pearls of his eyes were rolled back in his head as he cut loose with the mother lode of all roars. I clapped my hands over my ears, barely dimming the blast. My bones vibrated to frequencies of sound I could only feel. Stunned, the storm wind failed, turned back upon itself. I slipped sideways along the wall, and found myself clutching for dear life with cold, hungry waves slapping at my dangling legs.

  “Tukka!” I screamed, but couldn’t hear my own voice mixed in the sonic hash. Just when I thought the side wash of sound would pound me senseless, it ended. Heaving for breath, I swung around on top of the wall, surprised it was still standing. The silence that followed felt thick enough to cut with a knife. The wind had died, the sea settled, and the dark clouds scooted away, seeking a less dangerous place to play. I fully agreed with them.

  Unfortunately, the sea dragon was only a dozen feet away, its head close enough for a sudden lunge to be successful if it wanted to gobble us up.

  This not how it happened last time, Tukka complained. Dragon supposed to run home to momma.

  I knew why. Another player was twisting the dream, crashing the game. The mass of black at the back of the dragon’s head stood up, unfolding long, spindly legs. The dragon waited like a stone statue, as my demon guard strolled over his head and down the snout.

  Tukka growled. Get out of my dream.

  The demon’s eyes smoldered. He smiled. His fingers waved and his claws extended several more inches. He smiled in a way you could never call friendly. “Your dream? Why, you have no more right to be here than I do.” His blazing stare swung to me. “As for you, Grace, how rude, throwing a party and not inviting me.”

  “Sorry about that,” I lied. “I didn’t think this was exactly your kind of scene.”

  He showed exaggerated surprise. “Then you really must get to know me better. I adore historical dramas. They’re so … so…” he fanned his claws seeking just the right word, “…historical.”

  Tukka’s fur bristled along his neck and shoulde
rs. Go away. Now! Grace not want bad thing here.

  “Let her tell me that.” The demon wiggled his claws suggestively.

  No. Tukka shake you like a rat, spit out broken pieces.

  The demon shook his head no. That’s not going to happen.

  Tukka grounded out a sound of raw aggression. Why not?

  The demon smiled. “I brought friends.”

  They dropped from the sky, dark shapes as horrifically damaged—and menacing—as my guard, each one a rough copy with only minor differences; the placements of scars and burns, the location of the breaks in their badly healed wings. The claws, obsidian eyes, and jagged teeth were all the same.

  Even with Tukka there, I felt my heart constrict painfully with terror, fear freezing my marrow, stealing my breath.

  Tukka’s teal blue hide glowed softly, pulling in colors, leaving everything around us as gray as the ghost world. Eating the dream, he drained its energy—the fu dog equivalent of jerking the rug out from under us all. The wall, the sea, the frozen dragon; everything dreamed crumbled like charcoal briquettes after the barbecue. The crescent moon crumbled top to bottom, bleeding dust into the upper atmosphere. Howling winds clawed the world to ashes, smearing everything into a darkening vortex that ate all horizons. The demons were torn from their formation, and I went tumbling away as well. Only Tukka remained unmoved, at the eye of his personal storm.

  From all sides, darkness seeped in like ink to swallow the gray crumbles, leaving nothing. Alone, spinning across void, I plummeted through silence with no idea of where I’d land. Hopefully, someplace the demons wouldn’t follow.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Nervous impulses jerked my body. I gasped for breath. My eyes snapped open, finding endless darkness. With my skin dissolved, I spilled out, filling an infinite space. I felt like a solitary goddess in her private heaven. Unless … well, I could have been swallowed by a black hole; seems like there was one chasing me around lately, trying to devour my soul. Don’t know why. Are souls tasty? Salty? Sweet? Maybe an acquired taste.