“The boss didn’t send us here to track down strays,” one voice growled. “If the bastard wants to swim the river, he’ll be a Claremont problem on the other side.”
Smiling as the river flowed around me, I couldn’t help but agree. Another benefit of being a fox around werewolves—the latter were so rigid in their pack structure that it was remarkably easy to wriggle my way beneath the rules.
For example, meeting my mentor outside Atwood territory and without Gunner’s permission meant Ransom wouldn’t be able to argue his brother had broken his promise. The convoluted reasoning was immensely satisfying...but the second shifter’s words wiped all amusement off my lips.
“That wasn’t a ‘he’, you idiot. It was a female.” This voice sounded vaguely familiar, as if the second watcher might have been one of the shifters who’d turned the tide at the showdown in the theater three months earlier. And his scent? Had there been more to it than the mantle of Atwood ozone rising through the stench of city garbage?
I racked my brain but came up with nothing else by way of memory. I could only hope that meant my own flavor had been similarly muted by distance, and just as generically werewolf-like as I’d been led to believe.
With an effort, I turned my body around to push back upstream against the current. Wolves might not be curious, but foxes were. And I had a feeling the duo might let drop identifying information if I hovered here long enough.
“If it’s a female,” the first male started....
But now my lungs were burning, the opposite shore seeming an impossible distance away from where I hovered. If I popped back up in the river so close to where I’d gone under, this pair of werewolves might risk the gray area of the boundary and come in after me.
So, reluctantly, I relinquished my spot in the river. Changed my ear cones into flippers. And pushed toward my original destination with all my strength.
Whoever these shifters answered to, they weren’t my problem. Not when I was, and always would be, a lone fox rather than a wolf.
Chapter 4
I emerged, gasping, beneath the overhang of a bushy outcrop on the Claremont side of the watercourse. The watchers had lost interest, I noticed, retreating back to their bridge-side vantage point. Relieved that their tenacity was so subpar, I rose out of the water, pushed through the brush to the open area further from the river...then felt myself spinning sideways as hands grabbed and tugged on my left arm.
Shifter. My sense of smell was still catching up to my reeling balance, but I could tell I was being manhandled by a werewolf due to the superhuman speed my attacker possessed. Too bad my diffusely dispersed star ball meant a sword refused to materialize in a timely manner....
I couldn’t afford to shift into fox form, either. Not when kitsunes were verboten everywhere other than in Gunner’s mansion.
That didn’t make me entirely helpless, however.
Instead, I let momentum carry me groundward, curling in upon myself as I fell so I hit the leaf litter already spinning into a somersault. With any luck, my opponent would still be shuffling backwards into two-footed stability after such an all-out attack, a lapse I planned to take full advantage of by ramming into his knees....
Or, rather, into her knees. I identified my teacher’s signature scent of spring rain, roses, and ozone even as I bowled her over, was apologizing profusely before she thudded butt-first atop the hard ground.
“Elle, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
My roll had carried me past my opponent and back to my feet, so it was an easy matter to reach down in preparation for pulling the slender brunette erect beside me. And as I did so, I felt my forehead furrow in confusion. Why was my teacher—Crow’s mate, a resident of Ransom’s pack—waiting for me here rather than half a mile down river where we usually met each other? Had Crow received a message that he failed to deliver? Had our illicit meetings finally been found out?
“You were late,” my mentor answered the question I should have asked rather than the one I’d actually managed even as her hand clamped down on mine. “I was worried.”
Not so worried that her lupine nature didn’t show through, however. One moment she was my smart, protective teacher. The next, her eyes glistened with amusement and I braced myself against the inevitable yank intended to tumble me onto the ground.
Strangely, though, Elle merely scratched my palm rather than pulling me downward. A tiny trickle of blood welled up even as she retreated, her expression more fox-like than wolf-like as she licked her fingernail clean.
“What?” I started as icy cold ran up my arm and across my shoulder. My mentor’s eyes glowed red, my stomach lurched in answer...
...Then I was bending over backwards, twisting my body into a series of contortions that might have amused an audience but felt torturous from the inside. I hadn’t actually known I could hook my leg around my neck, and now that I’d been pretzelified I sure hoped Elle planned to untangle me...
...then the possession that had forced gymnastics upon me dissipated. I was once again alone inside my body while Elle hooted out her laughter at my struggles to shake out the newly-created kinks.
“And that,” my teacher told me, “is why you need to practice defensive magic.” Then, thrusting a photocopied document toward me: “Now read.”
IT TOOK A SOLID MINUTE to loosen my muscles sufficiently so I could take the paper from her fingers. But when I did so, I was immediately sucked in. Because this new historical document provided much more than the vague hints offered by Elle’s previous findings.
Or so I guessed while poring over the bad handwriting and worse grammar that had passed for literacy a couple of hundred years before. As best I could tell, the writer had seen werewolves seize kitsune magic and use that power to perform terrible feats of subterfuge....
“Your trust is what left you open to manipulation,” Elle confirmed as my gaze rose from the paper. “Me taking your blood is only part of the reason it worked.”
“But I trust you because you’re trustworthy,” I countered, trying not to cringe at tossing such high praise at a wolf.
“Oh, and you always know to trust the good guys and distrust the bad guys?” Elle shot back. “You’re a fox among werewolves. You’ll never really know who your enemies are.”
Chilling...but true. And, at the same time, shifter faces flowed before me. Gunner, Tank, Crow, and Allen—how could I not trust werewolves who provided a better life for my sister and myself?
The contradictions were giving me a headache, so I forced myself to relinquish them and focus upon what really mattered. “Point taken,” I said simply, running my hand through tangled locks and grimacing at the dirt stains on both of my knees as the day’s deadline reasserted itself. “I’ll work on defensive magic...but not right this minute. I’m sorry I was late, but now I have to go.”
“To Kira’s hearing. I understand.” And just like that, Elle turned from hard-nosed teacher into loyal pack mate. Her hand settled on my arm in an example of werewolf touchy-feeliness, and the gesture actually felt natural. “I hope she’s doing better than she was?”
I shrugged, wishing I had something better to report about Kira’s strange crankiness. Because my sister hadn’t been quite herself for weeks now. The symptoms were mild but tenacious, and I was considering a visit to a human doctor to figure out what was going on. I just wasn’t sure if the risk was worth the potential payoff....
“Tell me if I can help in any way,” Elle continued, rather than prying further. And something about the kindness in her voice flowed across the city alongside me as I returned to the husband she hadn’t seen in three long months. Elle refused to risk the guys by cluing them in to her proximity during our meetings, which I knew created a wedge in her relationship that shouldn’t rightfully have been there.
Now, as I rushed up the courthouse steps and found the mate in question pacing anxiously, I somehow lost track of the plausible deniability Elle had worked so hard to create. Because Crow was clearly
worried by my lateness...and not because he distrusted my ability to guard my own skin. No, the male had seen through the charade Elle and I created and he was anxious about his life partner.
So even though I shouldn’t have, I broke my mentor’s rule of secrecy. “She misses you but she’s fine,” I murmured, heartened by the way the male’s eyes lit up with instant pleasure.
Then I was pushing past the werewolf and running up marble steps toward the tremendous, column-lined entrance. Was sliding through the metal detector without removing anything other than my keychain—another benefit of carrying my star ball in a diffuse manner rather than as its customary sword.
And I was only two minutes late when I slid into the back of the courtroom...just as the judge banged his gavel and prepared to decide my sister’s fate.
Chapter 5
“Kira’s grades improved dramatically toward the end of the school year,” our current social worker, Stephanie Baumgartner, noted. “On the other hand, I’ll admit that her living situation is a trifle on the unconventional side....”
At this point, the middle-aged human glanced up from her paperwork and slid a glance toward the five of us flanking Kira in the front row. Yes, for those unaware of the existence of werewolves, a teenager living with her sister and four cute guys was likely a bit surprising. The judge, unfortunately, had more weighty reservations than that.
“Unconventional is one thing,” he interjected. “Undependable is another. I see here that you are Ms. Fairchild’s employer as well as her landlord,” he continued, spearing Gunner with a far less forgiving gaze than Stephanie had offered. “What’s to prevent you from firing your employee and evicting the child all in the same day?”
“Nothing,” Gunner started, pausing just long enough for my fingernails to dig painfully into my palms in reaction. Then my companion’s left hand was engulfing my right, his huge paw teasing my clenched fist apart even as he added another word to his answer: “Yet.”
The judge raised both brows, clearly unimpressed by Gunner’s theatricality. Before the official could voice further objections, though, Tank was standing. “Permission to approach the bench?”
At the judge’s impatient nod, our personal lawyer—and the worst toilet-seat offender—strode forward and slapped a heavy packet of papers down in front of the older human. “As you can see,” Tank continued, “Mr. Atwood is intent upon ensuring the well-being of the underage child regardless of the sister’s employment status.”
The judge hummed his interest, but unlike him I couldn’t see whatever made Kira cover her mouth in an attempt to stifle a giggle. My kid sister had apparently been in on this sneak attack from the beginning. I, on the other hand, was left leaning forward and vainly attempting to read the fine print from twenty feet away.
“This document is ten pages long,” the judge complained after a moment, flipping through legalese that I likely couldn’t have deciphered even if I’d been close enough to make out letters and numbers. “This should have been presented weeks ago so I could read it in my chambers.”
“Please allow me to sum up the matter, then, Your Honor,” Gunner interjected mildly without removing his hand from mine or approaching the bench the way his pack mate had. “It’s really quite simple. I’m promising to maintain monthly support for the child financially, physically, and emotionally until she turns eighteen, no matter what happens with Ms. Fairchild’s employment or our relationship.”
Despite myself, I retreated away from Gunner’s body as I parsed his offer, my fingers sliding out from beneath the heavy weight of his palm. I’d known the alpha had a soft spot for Kira from the first time he met her. But we were foxes and he was a werewolf. Offering me the bullshit job as his personal secretary seemed like a nice gesture while we were all stuck in limbo...but I didn’t really expect the alpha to continue involving himself in our lives after he inevitably made up with his brother and was allowed back into their clan home.
The judge, of course, knew nothing of this convoluted family drama. However, he joined me in sharing major reservations about a gesture that seemed too big and too bold. “You do realize that by presenting this contract during a custody hearing, you will be in violation of state law if you renege upon it?”
“I realize that,” Gunner answered, kindling a strange fire within my belly. “I have no plans to go back on my word.”
“Even though, in essence, you are promising to become this girl’s father,” the judge translated.
“No,” Gunner countered. “I’m angling for a slightly different role in her family. Big brother, to be precise.”
THEN THE ALPHA WEREWOLF turned to face me, the gesture drying my mouth so thoroughly I gaped like a fish rather than forcing out any words. Which was likely a good thing given that my instincts consisted of a strange mixture of fleeing...and melting into Gunner’s protective arms.
“Mai...” he started. But before I learned whether my companion intended to finally bring whatever had been simmering between us up to the surface, a voice I’d almost forgotten spoke up from the back of the room.
“This is all very sweet,” Kira’s original social worker stated wryly, “but it is clearly antithetical to the case at hand.”
Swiveling in my seat, I sighed at the abrupt appearance of Simon’s gloomy visage. The lanky human must have slipped in even later than I had, and unfortunately his professional opinion as a social worker was likely to hold more weight than a grand gesture on Gunner’s part. Especially with a judge who was now smiling despite the entirely out-of-line discussion taking place in his court of law.
“Because...?” the judge prodded.
“The point being—as always in these cases—the well-being of the child.” Simon glanced in my direction briefly, his grimace suggesting that he hadn’t forgotten the glimpse of paranormal happenings he’d been privy to three months earlier. The social worker had seen just enough to fuel wild guesses...but I could tell the conclusions he’d come to made him even less impressed by the idea of me raising an innocent child than he had been before.
Luckily, Simon wasn’t our social worker any longer. Because the move to Gunner’s mansion had changed the district overseeing our case...a point which Stephanie was quick to point out. “I’m the one making a recommendation on behalf of the state,” the middle-aged woman said loudly, half-rising as she turned her attention back and forth between Simon and the judge.
I held my breath, half expecting her to make another dig about a teenage girl living among so many unattached and unrelated male personages. But Gunner had worked his magic on Stephanie over the last few months just as thoroughly as he had tamed everyone else in his vicinity. There had been cookouts, thoughtful questions about her family, and in the end the alpha had ingratiated himself so thoroughly that the social worker had started inviting us into her home.
So I shouldn’t have been surprised when Stephanie barked back at Simon without hesitation, her tone as fierce as that of any territorial wolf. “I am entirely in favor of this adoption being carried out as requested. The Fairchild family deserves to remain intact.”
“Hmm,” the judge answered, not even glancing at Stephanie as he jerked his chin toward Simon, giving the latter an opening in which to elaborate.
And Simon didn’t fail him either. “After watching Kira live on pasta and peanut butter, start fights with little or no provocation, and get kicked out of two schools over the past six months,” Simon intoned gloomily, “I strongly believe the opposite. Kira would be better off living in a halfway house rather than remaining under her sister’s inappropriate care.”
Chapter 6
Reprieve came from an unexpected direction. The judge, who I’d thought was looking for the slimmest excuse to wrest Kira out of my custody, banged his gavel before Stephanie could do more than open her mouth for what was bound to be a heated rebuttal.
“As much as I’m enjoying this farce, I have a dinner date,” the man said dryly. “So we’ll conclude this case on Frida
y. If anyone has additional evidence they hope to discuss at that time, I recommend you file it in advance.”
Then we were rising, watching the judge sweep out the back door while Simon stormed out the front. It wasn’t a success, but at least we’d been granted a stay of execution. And after thanking Stephanie for her support, the fun-loving werewolves around me immediately leapt onto the idea of a celebratory hunt.
“Wildacres?” Allen suggested, naming the former retreat center that had become the pack’s customary hunting grounds in the months since Kira and I had been folded into their pack-in-exile. Because the loss of Mama’s star ball meant Kira wouldn’t be able to shift until she materialized magic of her own making. Good thing Gunner just so happened to have purchased a two-hundred-acre retreat complex, complete with trails wide enough for a teen-driven golf cart to speed along beside wolves and one lone kitsune.
I glanced at my sister, expecting her to take the choice of venue as her due. But Kira wasn’t even following the conversation, I realized. Instead, her legs wobbled and her lips quivered, giving me just enough warning to encircle her waist with one supportive arm before she sagged.
“Kira?” I asked, trying to remember if I’d fed her lunch. No, I hadn’t. But my sister had been in the middle of the pack at the noon hour—surely the guys had stuffed her to the gills.
“I’m fine.” Now Kira sounded like herself...and looked like herself as she batted away my supporting arm too. “And you guys don’t have to go to Wildacres just for me either. I’d rather read in the car than hang out with you losers anyway.”
Now every eye was focused on my sister, four sets of werewolf eyebrows lowering in synchronicity that owed much more to their attachment to Kira than it did to the bonds of pack. “Losers, huh?” Tank countered while I was still trying to decide if the legal setback was really what had shaken up my sister so thoroughly or whether her health had faded so much so quickly. “You can’t even beat us with an engine under your a...butt. You want to beg off because you’re afraid.”
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