Foxes' Den

by Teresa Noelle Roberts

  Lightly, she leaped off the bed and trotted to the patch of moonlight. When she left the building, she would wear the body of an earthly fox, so as not to offend any spirits native to the place, but at the moment, she waved three tails proudly.

  Standing on her hind legs as an ordinary fox would rarely do, she danced a moonlight dance of victory. She was free again, back in her proper form and with a centuries’-old weight lifted from her spirit.

  Later, she’d figure out what to do next. She’d arrived in America by ship like any other Japanese immigrant of that era, but when she returned, it would be on the wings of thought.

  If she returned. Japan had sadly changed by the early twentieth century, when she’d left for a land that still had places a kitsune trapped in an unaging human form could hide. It must be worse today, full of cars and smog and humans hurrying through their blind, busy lives.

  But there might be some remote, serene places left. Perhaps on Hokkaido?

  On the other hand, this part of Oregon boasted a lot of green, and life moved at a more reasonable pace than in much of the United States. Perhaps the Donovans wouldn’t mind a resident kitsune in their forest. She’d take good care of them, make sure poachers and the like left the land alone. The Donovans were powerful enough to do that themselves, but a little help from an immortal never hurt anyone. Besides, the family, loving as it was, was also set in its ways. A little more Trickster energy in their lives would do them good. Poor Tag couldn’t do it all himself, being merely a mortal child of Trickster, not an avatar like she was.

  What was she thinking? She’d barely gotten free of mortal flesh and here she was daydreaming about tying herself to a mortal family.

  Or at least to two enticing, charming, utterly sexy members of it.

  She shook herself, reveling in feeling fur move and her tails twitch. This way lay madness for a kitsune. She’d remain young forever—she could choose to fade, but not to age—and Tag and Paul would grow old and die. Kitsune might enjoy mortal company for a few years, but it was always best to sneak away before that pain came. The parting hurt, but not nearly as much as watching a friend or lover wither toward death.

  And that was only a worry if they wanted her to stay in the first place. Today had been for a magical purpose—well, the second round hadn’t been, but they’d all been so intoxicated with hormones and magic she doubted they’d had a coherent thought among the three of them. Deep down, Paul still wanted a monogamous relationship with Tag, and, while they cared for her, they might not be comfortable having a kitsune one-time lover hanging around the place, even as a friend and guardian spirit.

  But Tag and she still had so much to talk about, so many pranks to indulge in together! Surely they could do that on purely friendly basis.

  Or not.

  She glanced over at his sleeping form, spooned against Paul’s taller, lankier body. Spirits of the land, he was beautiful. Now that she had her magic back, the fox beneath his human seeming was obvious, and both sides of her wanted to mate with both sides of him. Over and over again. Whether or not his husband approved.

  Though preferably with his husband’s enthusiastic participation, because that would be more fun for everyone. Paul’s serious side made him less approachable than playful Tag, but he had so much love and goodness in his nature, not to mention passion and yummy magic, that she wouldn’t find it easy to keep away from him, either.

  Her body surged with take-no-prisoners lust, the kind that had gotten her cursed before.

  In a panic, she sprang out the window and began to trot down a path that led ancestors-knew-where, trusting her nose to take her back again.

  But only long enough to say goodbye. It was beautiful here, lush and fragrant and full of power, the sort of place where a kitsune would love to settle down and make a home.

  If she dared.

  If she stayed on the estate, she and Paul could never be fully comfortable together. He adored Tag and believed that monogamy was the right path for him, but his bisexuality would always leave him yearning quietly for experiences he couldn’t have—at least if they remained temptingly in reach. She respected his choice, but it was her nature to flirt and play, as much as it was his to cleave to one lover, and the tension would grow to misery over time.

  And Tag? It would be almost impossible to keep her hands or paws off Tag—and equally hard, she suspected, for Tag to keep away from her. He was a fox, and his nature and her own would draw them to each other no matter how loudly reason argued against it.

  Oh, he’d keep his vows to Paul. He was that kind of a man. Honor had a smell as obvious as that of lies, and he and Paul both carried the honey-and-steel scent of honorable men in their spirits. But she wouldn’t be able to resist teasing him, and he’d suffer from frustration, and the frustration would come between him and Paul in the end. They’d most likely get past it—they were more mature than Masao and Hiro had been, far more likely to communicate and work through a problem—but it would hurt them both.

  That was no way to repay the people who’d freed her from an eternity trapped in a form not her own. No way to treat men whose love for each other and kindness to her had touched her heart.

  She paused in her running to look up at a three-quarter moon half-shrouded by wispy clouds. The ocean roared, out of sight but always in hearing. She could be happy here—but not if it risked Paul and Tag’s peace of mind.

  She barked her frustration at the moon until another fox answered, a full-time fox this time, male and unmated.

  At another time, she might have answered that call. Her nature was as much fox as it was anything, and the uncomplicated directness of animal mating had great appeal. But now her thoughts were too complex to enjoy that, too…human.

  She’d leave the estate, leave Oregon, go somewhere far enough away she could leave Paul and Tag to their lives so they could all forget everything but a few sweet, sexy hours. It was the best way she knew to thank them. If Japan didn’t work out, Idaho had its merits. Lots of open space, plenty of rugged cowboys she’d have no qualms about enjoying for a few nights. Freedom.

  Loneliness, but also safety.

  Akane may have learned some wisdom over two centuries in human form, but she’d also learned human vulnerability. She simply couldn’t trust herself around those two beautiful men.

  But she couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.

  In the morning. Or maybe the next day, because, even though her mind knew it was for the best, her heart was in no rush to leave Paul and Tag.

  Now, she needed to run free, in what she knew would be a vain effort to outstrip her racing thoughts.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You don’t have to go, Akane. There’s plenty of room here. Hundreds of acres.” Paul gestured from the long, rough stretch of beach back to the forested hills sweeping up from the ocean. “There’s always room for one more.”

  It was another wild, damp day. Rain threatened from a glowering sky, but the hills were greener by contrast to the gray of sky and the angry gray-green of the ocean. Overnight, a huge redwood log had been washed up onto shore. It was still wet, but Paul and Akane sat on it anyway. Tag, typically, paced.

  “Too many people here for someone like me.” Akane, so bold when they made love, didn’t meet his eyes as they talked. Now that her powers were restored, she was opaque to him, and magic gave him no hints as to whether the body language meant shyness, minor deceit, or merely cultural difference. She’d lived on the outskirts of modern America, but most of what she knew of human culture she’d learned in a distant place and time.

  Tag drawled, “The woods are pretty wild once you get far enough from the house. Not pristine, but close to it. Might suit you. You wouldn’t have to see a soul unless you wanted to—though we hope you’d want to come hang out with us mortals sometimes.” He put his hand on Paul’s shoulder as he said that, gave him a squeeze.

  Akane shook her head. “Even the wild spaces aren’t truly wild. Your witch-magic fil
ls them. It’s a good thing. Your family protects the land and sea in this place, and in turn, the land and sea protect you.” She pointed down the beach, where some of the younger Donovans—water-witches all—surfed in the cold autumn water, safe from the rip currents and dangerous waves that would threaten an ordinary surfer on this wild day. “But it leaves no room for me. Somewhere in the world, there’s a spot that needs a kitsune’s magic to nurture it. Maybe in Japan, if I’m lucky. Some place where I won’t choke on the smell of human magic.”

  Oh. So that was how she felt.

  Made sense, he supposed. He withdrew his hand.

  Tag barked, “Wait a minute there!” Akane jumped, a fox startled by a dog. Tag’s tone softened a bit after that, but he didn’t relent. “We didn’t hear you complaining so much about human magic two days ago. Paul worked hard to free you. It was a hell of a lot of fun, sure, but it was some major, major magic. Do you have any idea how drained he was? He slept all day yesterday.”

  Lord and Lady, his husband was so protective he didn’t know, sometimes, whether to laugh or scold. Maybe both at once. “Taggart, let it go. It’s up to the lady, after all.”

  “Of course it is,” Tag grumped, crossing his arms over his chest. “I just want her to understand…”

  “I do understand, Tag, and I am grateful beyond words. Paul and you performed rare and great magic to aid me, magic it’s possible no one else on earth could have done. I am grateful beyond words, and the two of you will forever have the blessing of Inari and a place in my heart. But I spent too much time among humans, as a human, trapped by human magic. I need to be away from all that for a time, to cleanse my spirit of that long grief, before I can enjoy the company of mortals as once I did. You two have touched me, and your family is generous and this place is beautiful. But I need my own kind and the soil of Japan beneath my paws.”

  She put her hands over her heart, bowed her head a bit, then looked up again. This time she met Paul’s eyes, and he realized at least part of why she’d been looking down. The weight of sorrow and weariness in her eyes made him want to take her in his arms and protect her, cherish her, make her happy.

  Which was a ridiculous notion. She was a powerful immortal. If anyone were doing any protecting, it would probably be Akane. He was a gifted witch—false modesty wasn’t encouraged in witch families—and Tag had brains and a surprising amount of brawn on his side. For all that, Akane had more oomph in one dainty finger than the two of them put together.

  Yet she had scars and fears like anyone else and something in him yearned to be the one to heal them. No, make that he and Tag. It would be teamwork or nothing. He’d say his healing magic was prodding him, but the true explanation was probably more basic: a man responding protectively to a beautiful female with a troubled spirit.

  A married man, he reminded himself sternly.

  He sought words, but while he was seeking, Tag showed once again why they made a perfect team. Instead of saying something pithy and wise, Tag merely nodded and said, “I hear you. You haven’t really been yourself for two hundred years. Go play. But come back and visit sometimes.” He pulled Akane to her feet and wrapped her in his arms.

  “Paul,” she said, her voice surprisingly shy for one so powerful and ancient, “would you hug me as well? Please?”

  Compared to all they’d done the other day, a three-way hug should be nothing more than a friendly gesture.

  As soon as Paul touched Akane and Tag together, though, he felt magic dancing under his skin. His witch-sight switched into dominance, even though he was willing himself to focus on the physical world. The auras of every living thing glowed painfully bright. Akane’s silver and burnt-orange aura and Tag’s green and russet one seared themselves onto his retinas. He even saw his own, which was hard to do unless one made a conscious effort. Rainbowed with his several powers, it twined with Tag’s as he would have expected.

  What he didn’t expect was the way tendrils from all of them wove together, forming a frail, but definite web.

  Could simply be the strong magic they’d shared…

  That had to be it. Even the faint etheric cord pulsing from Akane’s heart toward his own and Tag’s, a dim mirror of the strong, pulsing one that joined him to his husband, must be the result of the power that had drawn them together. It didn’t mean anything else. Leaving aside all the Donovan teachings on the subject of monogamy, they scarcely knew the real Akane.

  Powers, after two hundred years in the wrong form, she scarcely knew herself.

  Even so, he whispered, “Please stay, Akane.” He swore the words pulsed and vibrated in the air.

  Lightning crackled, striking the ocean far in the distance. The first drops of the threatened rain fell.

  “Thank you, Paul.” Akane kissed first his cheek, then Tag’s, and stepped away. “I am honored you wish to open your beautiful home and your lives to me. But your Tag is right. I need to relearn who I am. I will visit, though. And I’ll try to remember to do it in your lifetimes.” Her voice strained to come off as light, but it was laced with sorrow.

  “Don’t you need to get…oh, plane tickets or something?” Tag was shaking his head desperately, but Paul still tried to stall her. Some part of him appreciated the irony. Usually Tag was the one blurting things out and he was the one trying to rein him in.

  “Not anymore. I can be where I wish to go on a thought. The good news is I can return just as easily when I wish to visit.”

  Her form wavered, becoming as fog-shrouded as the distant mountains. When she came back into focus, she was dressed in a traditional Japanese court outfit. Many layers of silk, in colors drawn from the landscape around them, peeked out from under an outer kimono the deep green of an Oregon rain forest and embroidered with great trees and snow-capped mountains. The fine, embroidered robes dragged on the wet sand, but Paul was confident they weren’t real in any sense that could be soiled or water-stained. Her hair trailed like a sleek black and russet river, even longer than the robes.

  Her face was that of a sleek, healthy vixen, save for human eyes. Alert ears formed islands in the river of her hair. Furred appendages somewhere between hands and paws were almost concealed by her long sleeves. Under all the fabric, her tails were hidden, but Paul knew all three of them were there.

  The rain picked up, but parted where she stood, leaving her dry.

  She bowed formally, first to Paul, and then to Tag.

  And then she vanished.

  The hole in the rain lingered for a second or two, then filled itself in.

  The hole in Paul’s heart, he suspected, would take longer. He and Tag had known Akane only a few days, but… “Damn,” he said, louder than he meant to, and “damn,” Tag echoed.

  “Come on, lover. Let’s go home. It’s getting wet out here, even by local standards.”

  Tag took his hand and together they headed back to the compound.

  With each step, something tugged at Paul’s heart. He didn’t need to look to know it was a thin but strong etheric cord, binding him to a woman—no, a kitsune—who fled him and Tag at the speed of thought and spirit.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Just before the Winter Solstice

  It was after six o’clock and Tag still wasn’t back from work—which wouldn’t be so odd except Tag was a middle-school teacher. (The Donovan part of his last name combined with truly kick-ass credentials had made a local private school ignore the fact that hiring duals to teach below university level was illegal. Even if they were properly registered with the Agency and taking shift-suppressing Drozz, which Tag wasn’t.) He was usually home by three, four at the latest.

  Duals were notorious for shifting and losing track of time, but Tag never shifted unless he was safely on the estate, and he always checked in with Paul when he got home.

  It wasn’t quite the full moon, a time sacred to Trickster, a time when he might feel called to do something especially crazy.

  Besides, he always warned Paul before he did something li
ke that. After that time up in British Columbia, Paul made his husband promise to warn him before provoking riots or bar fights so he could either call the family lawyer or prepare some appropriate spells and play too. He shouldn’t encourage Tag—but the look on the cop’s face when Tag shifted right out of the handcuffs and trotted between the bars of the cell to join Paul had been priceless.

  Paul would know if his husband was seriously injured or dead. It was a blessing and a curse of witch marriages, thanks to the silver cord binding their spirits, made stronger because telepathy was one of his minor talents.

  So where the hell was Tag?

  It wasn’t like he never ran late. Everyone did sometimes and Tag was no exception. Maybe he’d had to run an errand or something and it took longer than expected. This close to Christmas, stores were crazy.

  But if he was going somewhere after work, he usually called. Okay, he’d probably call Portia, because Paul rarely remembered to turn his phone on, but Portia would get him the message telepathically, even if, as had happened once, Paul and Tag were in Russia at the time.

  And they had dinner reservations tonight and everything. Definitely not like him. Tag was highly motivated by the lure of red meat, which he rarely got at home.

  Paul checked his cell. Nothing. And this time, it was definitely turned on.

  He called Tag—for the third time—and listened as the phone went to voice mail yet again.

  He wound up, got ready to pitch the phone at the wall, stopping himself only because Tag couldn’t reach him if the phone was scattered in a thousand glittering pieces around the kitchen. Portia had a date tonight with a smoking hot Italian witch and would truly not appreciate a call from her brother-in-law interrupting.

  And no doubt Tag had just lost track of time. Probably he was at the toy store. It was December 19 and a few of the dozens of kids on both sides of the family still lacked the perfect Yule gift, not to mention that Elissa’s baby was literally on the way, according to the last messages they’d gotten. They’d sent some warm, Canada-appropriate baby clothes with Elissa’s parents, but Tag would want to find a stuffed animal or something as well.