by Forthright
“That looks too thick for a simple courtesy letter.”
“You’re right. They enclosed a substantial reaver bulletin detailing the reasons behind Hisoka’s sudden, unscheduled trip.” Michael withdrew several folded sheets that fairly vibrated with sigils. “He and two other members of the Five are in Belgium, dealing with a rash of attacks in northern Europe.”
Argent asked, “Who is attacking whom?”
“At least a dozen humans are dead, and early reports suggest that their attacker—or attackers—were Amaranthine.”
“Quite the problem after all those promises of peace.”
“They’re keeping it from the public, but key leaders in the United Nations are calling this a breach of trust; our treaties are at risk.”
“Enter the reavers.” Argent held out a hand for the report. It stung his fingers.
Michael muttered an apology and cancelled the protective seal for him. “We can’t allow something like this to spark panic. The retaliation could be terrible, especially since the most visible Amaranthine are the exchange students who enrolled in human schools at summer’s end. They’re adolescents.”
Argent’s brows arched. “Do the humans not realize that our children are neither young in years, nor harmless?”
“Most humans trust what they see.”
“Which is why they make such good toys.”
Michael frowned. “That’s a wretchedly outdated attitude!”
“And I am an antique.” Argent flipped to the last page and winced. The seal on this page was very much intact, and it created a discomfiting glare.
Taking the letter back, Michael said, “I’ll just summarize the last part.”
Argent frowned. “You’ve been letting me read your communiques for years, friend. Are you keeping secrets from me now?”
“No. But I want to be the one to tell you this.” Michael laughed uneasily. “Some things are better coming from a friend.”
The ward’s mood shift put Argent on edge.
“There’s a special alert included, reaver eyes only. New information has come to light.” Michael held his gaze and solemnly said, “They’ve discovered that humans and Amaranthine can be genetically compatible.”
Argent eventually spoke into the stilted silence. “How did this illustrious they reach their conclusion?”
Indicating the first report, Michael said, “Some of the attacks involved rape. Three women are pregnant, and tests point to an inhuman father.”
“Shocking.”
“It is, rather. Reavers are supposed to be Amaranthine experts, yet this is the first officially documented case of a … hybrid.”
Argent snorted. “Crossbreeds have been happening for millennia. Why do you think the Amaranthine first took human form?”
Michael’s eyes widened. “Oh, that’s … almost romantic. But there are no records of children with a mixed heritage.”
“If the reavers want to fill in the gaps in their understanding, they should speak to the wolves. Cats and dragons put down unfit young, but pack is everything to wolves.”
“The same follows for dog clans.”
Argent shrugged. “Yes, but they are more guarded than wolfkind. Dogs are more likely to take offense if reavers come sniffing around for scandal.”
Michael nodded slowly. “And what about foxes? In general.”
He smirked. “Surely you know your folklore, Michael. Who did hot-blooded young tricksters beguile?”
“The kitsune in stories usually lured unsuspecting travelers off the road.”
Argents eyebrows arched. “More specifically?”
Michael blinked. “Men.”
Despite the questions he could see piling up in Michael’s mind, Argent firmly redirected the conversation. “What is to be the official position on these ‘children of mixed heritage’?”
“Mixed,” Michael said with a weak laugh. “Initial responses fall in line with what you’ve already said. Except for the cats. Hisoka wants to offer protection.”
“Another optimist.”
Michael asked, “What do you think?”
Argent shook his head. “This changes nothing.”
“Not for you.”
Before they could lapse into another tired old argument, a sudden spike of emotions buffeted Argent’s awareness. Confusion and frustration were foremost, but his mistress’s blossoming fear goaded him from his chair.
“Argent?”
“Something is wrong.” Argent sprang toward the door, sure of one thing. Tsumiko had spoken his name.
FOURTEEN
Sly as Foxes
The landscape blurred as Argent accelerated toward the mistress he was obliged to protect. Senses straining for signs of a threat, he let his power rise as far as he dared. A growl was already building in his chest when he caught Tsumiko’s scent. No blood. No tears. Good.
He heard Sansa’s warning shout, but ignored her as inconsequential. All that mattered was answering his mistress’s call. Only Tsumiko’s muffled cry brought him up short. He crouched with her in his arms, breath coming in sharp gasps until obedience calmed the uproar in his soul.
“Argent?” she asked shakily.
“I am here.”
“How did you know Sansa needed you?”
That was not how this worked. But his gaze flicked to the battler.
She barked, “Get her inside! Get Michael started on more wards.”
Again, Argent ran, not slowing until he reached the gaping front door where Michael waited with hands clasped, eyes closed, and focus elsewhere.
“You knew,” Tsumiko murmured when Argent set her down. “How?”
“You called.”
“Did I?” She fiddled with her necklace, a small pout on her lips.
Clearly, she did not care for confusion. He said, “I heard you.”
Her gaze drifted to his ear. “Isn’t that impossible? We must have been a kilometer away.”
Argent drew himself up. “I have excellent hearing.”
“Because you’re Amaranthine?”
Michael’s eyes popped open, and he pulled the door shut. “Most Amaranthine have much keener senses that we do, miss. Now, what can you tell me?”
“Sansa wants more wards,” Argent said. “Quickly.”
“Then she shall have them.”
Argent steered Tsumiko to one of the inner rooms to wait. Directing her to a seat, he loomed over her. “What happened?” he asked.
“Sansa took me to meet Minx.”
He brushed that aside. “Surely you detected the note of urgency with which she sent you inside? What did she see?”
Tsumiko shook her head. “It wasn’t like that. We were talking, and she realized something.”
His teeth were on edge. “Which was …?”
The girl folded her hands in her lap and calmly reported, “She was saying something about beacons being tempting, even to her old sensei. That’s when she realized something and started saying it was too late.”
“For what?”
“Too late for the bracelet to hide me.”
Argent’s gaze fell to the beads that held back all but the faintest trickle of power. “Why?”
“She didn’t say exactly.” Tsumiko frowned, tugging the sleeves of her sweater over her hands. “But she thought someone might be here. ‘We may already have company.’ That’s what she told Minx.”
Not ten minutes later, Sansa charged in, Michael on her heels. Their battler’s calm had a fierce quality to it, which kicked up the tension in the room by several degrees. She was angry, and that could only be bad.
“Sansa, love, what happened out there?” Michael’s voice was pitched to soothe, and he hovered anxiously at his wife’s elbow. “Did you see something?”
“Nothing,” she snapped. “Bu
t that means nothing.”
Argent was ready for answers. “You realized something …?”
“Yes, yes.” Sansa waved an arm at Tsumiko. “No one knew she was a reaver!”
Michael nodded. “Quite true.”
“Even she did not know she was a reaver!”
“Again, true,” said Michel. But then his whole face changed. “Oh. Oh, I see.”
So did Argent, and his low growl made Tsumiko curl back into the corner of her chair.
“Miss,” Michael said, all apology. “Who confirmed your status as a reaver? Someone must have come.”
“Yes. The solicitor’s office made the arrangements,” she confirmed. “Nobody said anything about it at the time, but later, Mr. West told me they were checking the state of my soul. One was a reaver, the other was Amaranthine.”
“Do you happen to remember their names?” Michael asked.
Tsumiko shook her head, then nodded. “I don’t recall the reaver, but Mr. West said the other was Lady Nona.”
Argent nearly choked.
Sansa slapped a hand over her forehead and cursed in her mother tongue.
Tsumiko looked questioningly at Michael, who dredged up a weak smile. “Your solicitors must be very well connected. Nona Hightip is one of the Five.”
“And that’s bad?” the girl ventured.
“I’m afraid so, miss. This could put both you and Argent at risk.”
Sansa drew a short sword and stalked to the door. With a pointed look at her husband, she ordered, “Ward against foxes.”
FIFTEEN
Permission Granted
Tsumiko had been sitting in a chair by the window for the last hour, too keyed up for sleep, when someone tapped on her bedroom door. The knock was a token courtesy, for Argent let himself in without waiting for an answer.
“Did you need something?” she asked, drawing her blanket higher over her nightgown.
“I would not be here otherwise.”
Why did every conversation with him feel like a skirmish? Holding her peace, she waited for him to explain. To her embarrassment, Argent came to kneel before her. Moonlight gave his silvery hair an eerie glow, but his face was in shadow. She wished she could see his expression.
“I need things from you,” he said.
“Like what?”
Argent kept his face averted, like a child who is afraid to be told no. “New orders.”
“I don’t want to give you orders.”
“My previous mistresses bound me with promises that hold me back,” he said stiffly. “Undo them.”
Tsumiko asked, “How?”
“Answer my questions. Say yes.”
She nodded.
Finally lifting his face, he spoke with brittle urgency. “Mistress, may I use my full strength?”
From what Tsumiko had seen earlier, Argent had both speed and strength on his side. “How much are you holding back?”
He sighed. “One of my early mistress’s husband decided I needed hobbling. I am allowed access to a quarter of my power.”
“So much? Won’t that cause a problem?”
“You have no reason to fear, mistress. Even at my full strength, I cannot overwhelm your hold over me.” With a bitter smile, Argent added, “I tried once. It ended badly.”
Tsumiko said, “I only meant … if you have that much power, won’t you draw attention like I do?”
“I can be subtle. And you must say the words.” He repeated, “Mistress, may I use my full strength?”
Leaning forward, she answered, “Yes, Argent. Please don’t hold back. We need you to be strong for us.”
He inclined his head, then asked, “Mistress, may I cross the boundaries of your lands?”
“You can’t leave?”
“This surprises you?” he asked blandly.
“No,” she sighed.
He said, “If we come under attack and the enemy discovers that I am on a tether, they will exploit my limitations.”
“Could I make it so you can come and go as you please? Wouldn’t that be like freedom?”
“No, mistress. I am bound to you and cannot escape. At least, not for long, and not without significant discomfort.” In a slightly patronizing tone, Argent repeated the question. “May I cross the boundaries of your lands?”
“Yes, Argent. I’ll let you go.”
He searched her face at length. “Thank you.”
“Is there more?”
Argent nodded. “Mistress, may I take up weapons?”
“Are you a battler like Sansa?”
“Hardly. But I wish to be armed with more than these.” He held up a hand, displaying his claws. Leaning forward, he whispered, “These can be far too messy for my tastes.”
“I want you to be able to help Sansa. She’s expecting a baby, you know.”
“I am well aware.” Argent nudged a little closer. “If you give me leave to carry weapons, I will lend her my strength.”
“Good. And yes, you may use weapons.”
Argent asked, “Mistress, may I kill those who attack this estate?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
“Even if your life is at stake? Or Michael’s and Sansa’s? Their baby’s?”
She paled. “You’re a fox. Aren’t you clever enough to trap them or capture them or something?”
“Sometimes cleverness is not enough, but I will obey. I must.”
Tsumiko hesitated. “Do you think I should say yes?”
“Are you asking my advice?”
“Yes.”
Argent’s arms slid around her waist, and he tugged her to the very edge of the chair. She had to part her legs as he fit his body against hers. He asked, “Are humans evil?”
“Some are good, some fall short, and some do terrible things.”
“In this, our races are similar.”
She dared to ask, “Which are you?”
With a dark chuckle, Argent said, “I am one who fell, and I have done terrible things.”
“Were you forced?”
“Over and over.”
“I’m sorry.”
Argent whispered, “Say yes, mistress.”
“Yes, Argent. If it’s absolutely necessary.”
Pressing his cheek to hers, he hid his face from her and delivered his next question in a roughened voice. “Mistress, may I revert to my truest form?”
“What does that mean?”
“Must I explain every little thing?” he grumbled.
“How else will I understand?” Tsumiko asked.
His tone was flat. “Every Amaranthine who can take human form has an inhuman form. I have been forbidden to change.”
“Into what?”
“Tsk. Are you too dense to work that out?”
Tsumiko leaned back, wanting to see if he was teasing. “Are you saying that you’re really, truly a fox?”
“Say yes, and you can see for yourself.”
“Now?”
Argent shook his head. “Your room is too small. Wait for a more spacious setting.”
“Promise you’ll show me?”
“My compliance requires your cooperation.”
“Yes,” Tsumiko said. “Because I’d like to see you as you are. Someday.”
He accepted that with a jerky nod. “Mistress, may I take the strength I need to make these changes possible?”
“Of course! You need to tell me if you need tending.”
“I cannot make demands on my mistress.”
“But I won’t know otherwise. Unless there’s some kind of sign I should be watching for …?”
Argent’s sigh fanned her skin. “This.”
“This what?”
“Mistress, I would not be this close if I could help it.”
<
br /> She’d assumed his approach and gradual encroachment had more to do with secrecy than allure, but he was definitely treating her like a slip of Dimityblest paper. “Yes, of course, Argent. But take the chair. Your knees must hurt.”
“No.” He pulled her more snugly against his body, lowering his head to whisper in her ear. “Stay like this. I only need a minute or two.”
“Should I take the beads off?”
Argent shuddered. “That would be unwise. Michael’s wards are incomplete. Stay hidden.”
He adjusted his hold to press his nose against her neck, and Tsumiko tried to focus on the exchange. It wasn’t easy, because he’d begun to nuzzle. She gasped when she felt the barest scrape of fangs along the side of her throat.
“Do not worry, mistress. I will not eat you. Just … stay still.” His voice took on a strained quality. “A little longer, please.”
Tsumiko tried to keep a level head. “Would it help if I let you kiss me again?”
His lips grazed her jaw, but he said, “That would also be unwise.”
SIXTEEN
Drifter
Two weeks passed before Sansa was satisfied that Michael’s wards were holding. For the time being, Stately House and its grounds were safe. So Tsumiko bundled up and braved gusty October winds with a sweet potato in each pocket to warm her hands and to eat for lunch.
She wandered along a hedgerow, past a potting shed and empty arbors. Beyond a low stone wall, the sound of waves grew stronger. The lawn fell away, and far below the cliff’s edge, the ocean rolled onto a narrow strip of shore. Leaning out over the wall, she spotted a staircase hugging sheer stone.
Firmly gripping the railing, Tsumiko worked her way down to the sand. Wind whipped her hair and flipped her skirt, and she finally gave up trying to keep everything covered. The beach was empty. No one would see.
She found shells and picked her way along the water’s edge until she reached a dramatic driftwood arrangement. The pile stretched from sea to stone, and signs declared her side of the bleached wood barrier to be private property. Tsumiko looked back toward the stairs with a sense of awe that bordered on confusion. Could a person have enough power or money to own a piece of the sea? To her, it seemed as absurd as laying claim to another person.