Destiny's Child (The Kitsune Series)

by Morgan Blayde

  I told her, “You should tell him it’s not his fault.”

  “He can’t see me. Sometimes it happens that way; that the one who most needs to see you—can’t. Their grief gets in the way. I don’t think he realizes I’m haunting him.”

  “I could talk to Shaun for you.”

  “No. It’s lonely, but if I resolve my issues I could become unmade.”

  “Unmade?”

  “Ghosts are born from souls with issues. Those issues give us life. Without them we unravel, much like those glitches did—but with fireworks. A healed ghost is a falling star, fiercely consuming itself, leaving nothing.”

  Sad, but I liked the poetry of that.

  Michiko said, “I’m just not ready to go.”

  “So, you don’t ‘go into the light.’”

  “My true self, my soul, already has.” Michiko smiled at me. “If you really want me to, I’ll take you to class.”

  “I really ought to—”

  “Don’t!” Her desperation jerked off its leash and leaped out of control. “Spend the day with me, please. I can use the company.”

  “Oh?”

  She angled up, going for open sky now that we were well away from demonic interest. The trees blurred away and then lay under us, broken by roads and open patches that were fields. Soon, fine details were lost and I could make out a few distant towns. It was hard to say since I wasn’t used to an aerial view, but it seemed like we were heading back toward Shaun’s place.

  So cool, flying like this...

  Michiko spoke without her usual animation. “This is an anniversary.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of the day I died.”

  “Oh, crap. I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault. You weren’t the one who killed me.”

  I understood now why she wanted to hang with me. She was sad, lonely, and too tough to let anyone know she was in pain.

  I used her arm to pull me closer to her.

  Her eyes went wide as I got in her face. “What are you…?”

  I hugged her, holding her tightly.

  She stiffened, then relaxed. Thankfully, she didn’t drop me. “I didn’t ask for this.”

  “I know,” I murmured.

  And then she was hugging me back, shuddering in my arms as we floated on.

  I made soothing sounds until she pulled away and raised bright eyes to search my face. “Tell anyone about this and I’ll kick your ass.”

  “It’ll just be our secret.”

  “I’ll take you to your next class now.”

  “Nah,” I said. “Surely you can think of something funner we can do?”

  “You need an education. Funner is not a word.”

  “It is if I say so.”

  She didn’t argue, dragging me around even faster than Wocky had. All too soon, we were descending onto the roof of Shaun’s house—make that through the roof. We sank through shingles and insulation, into an attic that would have been dark except for a round window in need of dusting and a ghostly ball of green light that Michiko spun off of her hand, letting it waft in the air. The glow revealed stacked boxes and assorted pieces of furniture covered in drop cloths.

  I went to the ghost of a rocking chair, crossed over, and sat on it now that it was solid to me. I’d been burning through my aura and needed to spend time in the real world, getting my strength back. Oddly, the green ball was still visible. After a moment, Michiko crossed the veil, popping into view.

  “Most ghosts can’t materialize during the day,” I noted.

  “Most ghosts don’t have the Sword of Heaven to lend them strength.”

  I grinned, having seen her use the sword to trash Crush, a ghostly rival. “That is a cool sword. You want to loan it to me for Halloween?” I could make myself up as an anime heroine.

  Coldly, Michiko peered down her nose at me. “You’d do something stupid with it like peeling potatoes.”

  “Would not!”

  “Answer’s still no.”

  “Fine, be that way.” I looked at the clutter all around. “What is all this stuff anyway?”

  “Shaun is not a huge believer in renting storage. Hey, want to see something special?”

  I shrugged, but leaned forward, perched on the edge of my seat.

  She gestured. A box rose off a pile and floated over. The top flaps opened and a binder drifted into my hands. The green ball swam closer to give me better lighting. “A picture album?” I opened the heavy cover and studied a page of photos sealed under plastic. My gaze settled on a happy, naked baby crawling on a white rug. “Who’s that?”

  Michiko stared where I pointed. “Oh, that’s Shaun. He’s always been beautiful.”

  Agreed.

  We oooed and ahhhed over several more pages, and Michiko giggled over several precious memories we dusted off together. There were shots of her and Shaun in Tokyo, at Tokyo Tower’s observation deck, a water park, and several at a dojo with dozens of other students and a balding middle-aged man out in front. She pointed at Baldy. “That’s Father.”

  “And he’s fine with you running off with the family treasure?”

  She grew sad again. “He died before I did. Complications from surgery, they said. I’ve always had my doubts.”

  Hurriedly, I went on to other pages, stopping at a picture of Cassie—my kitsune mother—and Shaun. They were at a State Fair. He carried a giant blue gorilla and a corn dog. Neither he nor the gorilla looked comfortable with each other’s company. I suddenly lost interest in the album. “Why don’t you give me a guided tour?”

  “All right. Come on.”

  I set the album back in the box and followed her to a trapdoor in the floor. She sank through, going intangible. I opened the thing, letting it swing down. A ladder built into the door unfolded, dropping into a hallway. I climbed down, just setting foot on the carpet when a chiming started. My first thought was that I’d tripped an alarm.

  “That’s the perimeter alert,” Michiko said.

  “Someone’s on the property?”

  Michiko shrugged. “Maybe a stray dog.” The chiming stopped. “There’s no problem unless it goes off a second time. That would mean the house has been compromised.”

  I started down the hall with her. She pointed to a door. “This is Shaun’s room.” She grinned. “Want to see it?”

  The chimes started once more, and Michiko lost her humor, eyes going hard with menace.

  FOUR

  “You always maim the one you love,

  counting crows upon the wall.

  Omens stir with eyes of flame.

  I hate it when they call.”

  —Ill Tidings

  Elektra Blue

  Emerald jags of energy crawled over Michiko’s right hand as she slowly rolled her fingers into her palm for a hard, tight fist. “Shall we go see who that is?” ghost girl asked.

  I whispered, “Let’s not turn this into a throw-down right off. Let’s wait and see if they know where they’re going, and what they want. We can jump them right after.”

  Michiko nodded approval. “Sneaky. I like that.” She crossed over to the ghost realm to watch things from there.

  I decided to try hiding a different way. I went into Shaun’s bedroom, catching a brief look at wooden furniture, oriental watercolors on the walls, and a big bed with dark red sheets and black pillows. I went past a sliding-door closet, into the master bathroom, and stripped out of my clothes. In a few moments, I hoped I wouldn’t need them. I left my stuff piled on the floor, and closed my eyes, sending my mind back in time. I remembered the fox I had been after defeating the Miko, holding that image, recalling the sensations of being much smaller, covered in fur, unable to see reds anymore, but with the same sense of heightened smell I already had.

  Be the fox … be the fox… be the…

  Taliesina opened golden eyes inside my mind. You know I can do this for you.

  I gotta learn sometime, I told her. Hey! I thought you weren’t talking to me.

>   Her fox shoulders shrugged, a human trait, as she faded back into my mental shadows.

  I collapsed in on myself, muscles burning, bones melting. A door in my heart opened and tongues of cold fire poured out. The flames licked my skin. I shuddered with the feel of vertebrae popping, realigning. I opened my eyes and looked at my hands … no… my paws. My chest fur was white, my feet black, the rest of me bright orange. It had worked. Walking a tight circle, I looked at my butt. Wow, count ‘em, three tails. First time I did this there’d only been one.

  Leaving my clothes behind, I padded into the bedroom, the hall, and softly flounced downstairs toward hushed voices. The voices were female, coming from Shaun’s office near the front door. I crossed the hall and stuck my head in, ears perked to catch every word. I also took the time to memorize their scents. One of them smelled of orange crème soda and peanut butter, the other of gun oil and hand sanitizer. I recognized them from last Halloween. These were some of those psycho bitches from ISIS that we’d put away.

  Their bent backs were to me as they riffled a desk, sifting papers, flipping through an appointment book. Both gals were in good shape with well-defined muscles. They wore dark sweats, sneakers, and could have passed for college students. One was blond, her hair pulled into a ponytail. The other was a redhead. I sniffed. Make that an assisted redhead. Her color came from a box.

  I entered the room as Ponytail started opening desk drawers. Didn’t they realize that anything of value wasn’t going to be left out to be found? They should look for a safe.

  “This is stupid,” Red said. “We should look for a safe.”

  Damn, did I just send out a psychic suggestion? Nah, probably not.

  Ponytail stopped rummaging to look at her. “But I’m not good with safes.”

  Red patted a pouch strapped over her stomach. “Don’t worry. I brought the C4 and electric detonators.”

  Oh, great, a party game.

  A chill to the air let me know Michiko hovered close by. I doubted she’d stand for much more of this, but she needed to hold off until the last second. So far, we’d picked up no information of value. I so wanted to surprise Shaun with the low-down on these gals when he got back.

  He’ll be so proud of me.

  I went closer, waiting for the time to spring with all the ferociously intimidating power of a teenage fox.

  Red left the desk and started checking behind the pictures.

  Ponytail finished with the drawers and shot a nervous glance toward the hallway behind me. She froze.

  Uh oh. So much for the element of surprise.

  I sat on my haunches, letting my tongue loll out in a friendly fashion, then pulled my tongue back in and cocked my head. Aren’t I just the cutest thing? Please, don’t shoot me.

  She had the same full-moon and crescent-moon necklace that all the ISIS witches wore. I’d been right.

  “Lela?” Ponytail spoke softly.

  “Yeah?” The redhead said.

  “There’s a mutt on our six. Pekinese I think, maybe a little chow thrown in.”

  Gimme a break. Don’t you know a three-tailed fox when you see one?

  Lela turned my way, lifted an eyebrow, and went on with her search. “Long as it’s not barking, growling, or peeing on my leg, I don’t give a hoot.”

  I’d never!

  Ponytail knelt and held out her hand to me, wiggling her fingers enticingly.

  I strolled over and sniffed, since it seemed to be expected. Yep, orange crème soda and peanut butter, recently consumed. I also smelled cat. She had at least two.

  She scratched my head, shifting into baby talk, “That’s a good girl. Be a nice doggy-woggy and we’ll be gone ‘fore you know it.”

  Lela came huffing over, rolling her eyes. “Dottie, leave the mutt alone. We’ve got work to do. Go upstairs and check the bedrooms. We’re here to get any intel on Cameron and that freakin’ ninja-ghost-chick protecting him. They’re gonna pay for not letting us conquer the world.”

  Ninja-ghost-chick—they’re talking about me. My furry chest swelled with pride.

  Dottie hurried out of the room, and I felt the cold receding, telling me Michiko was staying with her. That left me to deal with Lela. She looked down at me and made a shooing motion. “Git, critter. Me and dogs don’t get along.”

  I’m a fox. F-O-X. Look me up in the dictionary.

  I heard the throaty rumble of a car in the drive. That’s right—the alarm system would have called Shaun’s cell phone.

  Lela’s phone played something incomprehensible by a thrash-metal band. “Crap!” She jumped a little.

  And I thought I was high strung.

  She answered, “Yeah, okay. Once we’ve skragged him, pull the van up front. We’ll bail.” She pocketed the phone, drew a blue-steel automatic, and moved to the entrance of the office, ready to ambush whoever entered from outside.

  Shaun! Oh, no you don’t! Snarling, I launched into the air. Not on my watch!

  Lela jerked toward me, swinging her gun. The muzzle flashed. Once. Twice. I choked on the smell of powder, blinded by the muzzle flash as a slug punched through the outer end of my right collar bone, near the shoulder. The slug seared through me, tumbling out past my ribs. The other shot ripped through the cluster of my tails, hitting nothing but fur.

  I thudded at Lela’s feet, leaking blood onto Shaun’s carpet. I gasped and whined, back legs kicking as shock and pain raced along my nerves.

  Note to self: next time don’t snarl when attacking. Definite tip off.

  Shaun’s voice spilled from memory: When shock sets in, feeding into it takes you out of the game … permanently.

  Lela swung back to face the door, holding her gun ready, cradled in both hands, extended in front of her.

  My front, right leg wouldn’t take my weight. Just standing proved a monstrous task. A leap was clearly beyond me. My ears perked.

  Running steps outside, on the porch… No, Shaun. Stay back. I’ll deal with—

  The front door exploded inward.

  Lela held her breath and her fire, waiting for someone to pop in and die.

  I lunged, which is to say I fell against her ankle and bit. Hard.

  “Effin mutt, git off!” She kicked her leg to shake me. She didn’t want to accidentally shoot herself, or move her gun from the front door.

  Pain filled my world, what should have been a sea of red except foxes are colorblind and can’t see that color. Repeatedly, I thumped onto the carpet as she flailed her leg, hissing at the pain I caused.

  The sharp crack of gunfire sounded, but not from Lela. She retreated into the office to avoid the spray of gunfire, dragging me with her. Someone had stuck a gun through the door, blindly firing off a clip.

  Lela was on her knees now, waiting for the gun to empty. This gave her a chance to swing the grip of her automatic down, beating me.

  Crap, think a rib broke. Lung might be punctured.

  Graying, my thoughts and whirred about like hummingbirds in a poppy field. Weakness made my body limp, but anguish tightened my jaws, making me bite even harder, fangs grinding on her ankle bones.

  If I’m going, your leg’s coming with me. Foxes keep what they take, even if it tastes like sour grapes.

  Her gun butt came down on my gunshot wound.

  I yelped, staying unmercifully conscious, fighting for breath, forcing my eyes to focus. Dammit, she got away!

  But she’d taken her eyes off the hallway an instant too long. A tall, thin shape filled the office door, gun in one hand, taser wand in the other.

  Virgil? I was killing myself for Cassie’s boss? Hey, wait a minute..!

  As she surged up from the floor, he thrust the wand at her. The taser prongs zapped blue current between them.

  No, you idiot! She’s packing C4 with detonator caps. If you hit them…!

  She exploded backward.

  A concussive wave kicked me across the room, flinging me under a desk, as bloody fragments of Lela splattered everywhere. Deafened, I wrap
ped around the base of a chair, adding to my injuries, smearing around more blood. Dazed and hurting, I gave up on staying conscious and slid into arms of darkness…

  …until that bitch gave me up. I felt like crap served with a side of aggravation—where the hell were the EMTs, with all the good drugs? Hello, I’m bleedin’ here. Hard to breathe…

  Someone loomed over me. I couldn’t lift my head to see who. My nose didn’t seem to be working. And I couldn’t hear a thing. It couldn’t be Lela. She was cat food now. Virgil couldn’t be much better, as close to the blast as he’d been.

  Gentle hands explored my injuries. The touch still hurt.

  Yes, dammit, the wound goes all the way through. I whimpered as things moved inside me that weren’t supposed to, but the touch brought healing warmth. Pain receded as some kind of barrier formed, filtering impulses from outraged nerves. Vision sharpened. My hearing dialed up. Tears brimmed as I realized I wasn’t going to be deaf for life.

  “Damn, Cassie, you’re a mess.”

  Virgil? How can you even be alive? And … why are you calling me by mom’s name? Do I look like a high-maintenance blonde?

  Miraculously his sunglasses were still in place. His clothes hung in smoldering rags, the pale skin underneath covered with tats that seemed to writhe, subtly change shape from moment to moment. Faded with age, the blue ink avoided the usual themes, blending arcane geometry with foreign writing and symbols. A circled Star of David occupied the center of his chest. The guy’s a wizard or something, maybe Grand Pooh Bah. Well, of course, that made sense. Heading up a Preternatural Response Team, he’d need an edge to slug it out with foreign jinn, rogue vamps, weres, and whatever.

  My mind nagged. There was something I needed to remember. Something Virgil needed to know…

  “Just take it easy. An ambulance is coming. Though how I’ll get them to work on a fox and keep it quiet, I don’t know.”

  Finally, someone who knows a fox when they see one.

  Shots rang out. Virgil jerked under the impact of lead slugs, but didn’t get chewed into hamburger—at least there were no exit wounds splattering me with more blood. Standing, spinning, he spat out sibilant words I didn’t understand, and somehow his gun was in hand. Oddly, he didn’t use it. His back was unmarked except for the tats that glowed bright yellow—an activated spell, I guessed.