by Perry, D. R.
“Karen Thurston and I go way back.” Richard chuckled. “She was one of my earliest experiments in mind magic manipulation. In fact, she used to babysit Henry and me back in the day, although I doubt either of them remember much about that. Right, Henry?”
Henry Baxter clenched his fists and hissed, his fangs gleaming in the moonlight. I didn’t want to think about the threats Richard had made to coerce Henry into wiping or replacing Kiki's memories.
“Your father is a much more suitable partner, Antonio.” Richard grinned, then pointed one finger on the hand gripping Kiki at Henry. “Henry has talent but not the stomach for most of my interests.” He chuckled. “Had, I should say.”
We scattered as a gout of flame erupted from the tip of his finger in Henry’s general direction. The odor of singed leather and hair mingled with crushed grass and exclamations of alarm. I helped Henry up. He held something oval and smooth and cooler to the touch than his hand. A memory charm.
“Remember,” he said.
Images crashed against the pillars of my memory like waves against Newport’s famous craggy cliffs, things years of therapy hadn’t revealed. Henry’s memory charm raised the curtain on that lost swath of childhood from before I got adopted.
A woman with stark white hair and even brighter rainbow wings smiled down at me, holding my hand as I hopped around a bare hill beside her. The memory was worn and faded, like old reel-to-reel film, so I couldn’t make out the words in her coos of encouragement. The love and pride were all there, increasing each time my wings caught air during one of my jumps. Now I knew why learning to ride a bike had inspired frequent bouts of déjà vu.
In the memory, I giggled, glancing off toward the tree line. Two sets of eyes watched from the shadows. One stayed put, her red hair and garb doing little to camouflage her even in the autumnal foliage. The other advanced, bringing a boy about my age into clear view. His hair was black, and unruly waves tossed around a pair of ears the same color. He stalked me, crouched. I pretended not to notice him until the moment before he pounced. We fell together, laughing and kicking up fallen leaves until a doorway appeared in the side of the hill and our mothers called us in. The boy’s was tall and pale with hair the color of coal. The fox woman followed us, head turning to look back as she went. I recognized her as Kiki although she only had two tails.
The memory changed, accompanied by a feeling of falling backward. The world in my eyes shone in whorls and loops of color without context, blurred lines, and vague shapes. The voices rang clear and pure, all three familiar.
“They won’t have an easy time. No one will trust him until the last possible moment, and she won’t begin trusting herself until she returns to the Under.” That was the other baby’s mom.
“But are they safe enough?” My heart felt full to bursting with love at the sound of my own mother’s voice.
“Not yet.” The other baby’s mom sighed. “They’ll need time here, more than double the amount I can stay, even with this Howe bending the rules to let us live here together.”
“I’ll protect him, then.” The fox woman’s voice made me squeak with mirth. “Least I can do after all my failures.”
“Henny won’t stay mad at you forever, Karen,” my mother said.
“Notice that the Precog didn’t offer any reassurances,” said the fox woman.
“Fine, have some.” The other mom chuckled, but when she spoke again, her voice sounded sad. “She’ll remember this at the right time and help save your life someday.”
The colors went dark and the voices faded until only the sound of crackling flames remained in my ears. Singed fabric and burnt leather offended my nostrils. I turned my head to check on everyone else.
Lynn huddled behind Bobby, while Bianca and Lane stood behind some kind of magical shield blossoming out of Henrietta Thurston’s wand. Her magic pushed back the flames still pouring from Richard Hopewell’s finger.
“Enough!” Albert Dunstable’s voice tolled like a grim bell as he strode forward to confront the Extramagus. “Her Majesty will think little of you setting fire to Swan Point Cemetery.”
“She’ll have no trouble with me battling an old flame.” Richard chuckled, but I noticed that the flames died down.
“That may well be, but it’s wise to be more careful.” Al put his hands on his hips. “Some of these are friends of her court.”
“Friends of knights and pages, you mean.” Richard scoffed. “Little consequence. And that one there is my enemy, just like these.” He pointed his wand at Bianca, then me, then Tony.
“This isn’t the Under.” Al shook his head. “You can’t go bringing the queen’s justice here.”
“You are not one to say where her justice belongs.”
“I’m my mother’s son and heir.” Al tilted his chin up, looking down his nose at Richard Hopewell. “She’s consequential. And the queen has charged her with navigating the legal differences between this realm and hers. If I say you are overstepping, you are.”
Except I knew Al was bluffing. Mortal law hadn’t stopped the queen from seeking her own justice before; recently too. Richard backed off anyway.
“I’m claiming my right as Her Majesty’s suitor to bring one of these back with me to justice.”
“Your right to such a thing is shaky, Mr. Hopewell.” Al crossed his arms over his chest. “You still haven’t tithed.”
“I’m still not worthy enough.” Richard’s smile shone like bleached bone. “Maybe bringing one of these troublemakers back will let me prove myself.”
Al’s mouth opened, then closed. “Maybe the queen has other priorities,” he attempted.
Richard only laughed. He changed his grip on Kiki, bringing his wand arm around her, so he had the business end pointing at her face. Then, he brought the knife down and around into the space between him and her.
Kiki’s voice ripped the darkness above our heads apart. Tears doused her face like a sudden rainstorm. I smelled blood.
Lane Meyer turned, staring in horror at Henry Baxter. I could tell right away that the Psychic vampire needed blood badly after his injuries. His fangs were out, and his eyes glinted with a baleful light. He paced toward the wounded Kitsune like a hungry lion.
“Henry, no!” Lane tried rushing to stop his friend, but Henrietta’s barrier hadn’t dissipated.
“Karen!” Henrietta just stood there, and all the color in her face drained as she watched, unable to act. “Get your hands off my aunt, Dick!”
“You won’t be able to call anyone names for much longer, Etta.” Richard’s words were punctuated by wet tearing sounds.
“I got a name for you. Pincushion.” Tony stood behind Richard with a silver dagger in one hand and the copper one in the other. The Extramagus hadn’t managed to activate his personal wards. I glanced aside to see that Tony must have retrieved his other dagger while I wasn’t looking. “Let my godmother go.”
“Fine.” Richard pushed Kiki with one hand and dropped his knife with the other. She stumbled several paces, sprawling on the ground near the Headmistress’ feet. “I got what I came for.” He held a bundle of tails in his knife hand, the weapon at his feet slick with blood. “And I let go of her, too. Now I’ll finish the job.” He pointed the wand at the prone Kitsune.
“No.” Henrietta Thurston stepped between her aunt and her nemesis. She waved her wand, erecting the shield over Kiki and removing it from Lane and Bianca in the process. Henry beat against it with both fists until Lane pulled him away. “Mr. Meyer, open a portal. Banish him to the queen’s demesne. Now.”
“Okay.” Lane frowned at a spot just above Richard’s right shoulder, then belted out a single wailing note. A half-light that reminded me of the ocean horizon where we’d met Gemma grew behind the evil Extramagus. Tony bounded toward the monument so he wouldn’t get caught in the portal. Richard only laughed and brandished the bundle of bloody Kitsune tails. I watched his wards shimmer into existence around him.
“Don’t let him take those!�
� Gemma Tolland’s voice rang out at a volume that would have carried through a nor’easter. She surged forth on the back of a black Kelpie, her daughter clinging on in front of her. The pirate captain’s charge from behind the Fishman Memorial’s bulk called me to action.
I ran forward, raising my wings as I rushed Richard Hopewell. I staggered back a moment later when his wand exuded a blast of icy air that slammed past me and into Headmistress Thurston’s car, flipping it over. He’d made a big mistake, though. I used the remnants of his attack against him, rising into the air on the back of his magic.
Shooting up to a respectable height while drawing my bow was the hard part. Aiming and dive-bombing the Extramagus was easy, but outside the Under, my arrows were mundane. I screeched, the force behind the sound laced with magic, as it had been when I broke the dorm window escaping from Gino. Wards shimmered around Richard, both the magic and the Psychic wavering at my cry. Would my attack be enough to stop him?
Tony
I watched Olivia fall, her downward arc bringing back the first time I’d seen her in the Under on her mission of mercy to rescue Gee-Nome. I nearly mistook her for an angel again this time, too. An avenging one.
She wouldn’t be able to hurt Richard. His wards had wavered under her screech, but they hadn’t collapsed completely. He looked up, though, distracted.
The bones in my lower back rearranged themselves, skin itching as my tail furred over. I welcomed the return of my ears, whiskers, and tail, waiting a moment for the rest of my body to follow. It didn’t. All the agility and heightened senses of my cat form, none of the wimpy size and strength drawbacks. Bonus: I got to keep my hands and the weapons in them. I didn't grow wings, though. Those must be for use in the Under only.
I let the copper dagger drop from my right hand. Falling on my own bane ain’t a mistake to make twice.
My feet barely touched the dewy grass, making almost no sound as I dashed forward, arms behind me for extra speed. I leaped, left foot landing on one point of the anchor sculpture as I used it to get some air and avoid Olivia’s arrow.
I managed the feat and reached out with both hands. The dagger in my left glanced harmlessly off Richard’s wrist just like I knew it would, but I got the result I wanted. He dropped my godmother’s tails.
Snatching the magical artifacts with my right hand before they hit the ground was tricky, but I managed. I stumbled, though. One sneaker snagging the stub of a discarded vigil candle. Done in by my own fake memorial.
Before I ate dirt, something caught me by the back of my trench coat. Someone. Olivia. She coasted up and then back down again, setting us at Henrietta’s side. I held the bundle of tails out to her. She blinked but took them, turning them over in her hands a few times. The stench of ozone filled my nostrils, yet no light or sound struck in my immediate area.
I watched Richard stagger forward two steps, then back one. Blinding sunlight shone on the other side of Lane’s portal. My Nocturnal Studies major didn’t give me much information about the queen’s side of things, but I knew she kept her residence eternally at high noon. Lane’s knowledge of portals came from Margot, who was a Seelie Summoner. Of course, anything he opened here would go to the queen’s demesne. Her pet Extramagus would end up practically in her lap.
Except he wasn’t going to. Evil was as tenacious as black mold, and Richard’s brand was no exception. Someone would have to take a risk, push him in. Whoever did that could end up dragged in with him and have to endure his rage on the other side.
I stepped forward when an arm, pale and thin but cold like a lead pipe, stopped me.
“Allow us.” Bianca’s grin wasn’t entirely her own. I could tell that she and her ghost friend Horace were doing their Possession thing.
“You’ll fall in.” I opened my mouth again, about to say something stupid like I’d do it myself. But that was last week’s Tony, the one with a life or two left to spare. The one who felt unworthy of help, of friendship. That side of me wasn’t gone, but it never would be if I didn’t resist and do something new. I shut my yap and let the living dead girl talk.
“Nah.” The Possessed medium gave me a combined smile. “We’re strong as a lion together.”
“Then we all go.” Olivia peered at me from Bianca and Horace’s other side. Having her on my side all but guaranteed eventual victory over my old habits. “Lion plus two.”
We nodded at each other and rushed forward. Olivia’s wings gave extra leverage while the Bianca/Horace duo pushed with force that matched my dad on one of his good days. Richard gave ground. I held my action. Good thing, too. He aimed his wand at Olivia.
“Boot to the hand!” I matched actions to words. Except for the boot part. I’ll always be a sneakers kind of guy.
The length of wood tumbled through the air, end over end. Something followed it, a shimmering feather so bright I couldn’t make out the color. Richard chuckled. I turned.
He had the ghost-Possessed medium by the wrists. Olivia had them by a satchel strap and the back of Bianca’s paisley peasant top. Olivia flapped her wings, trying to get airborne. It didn’t happen. Richard didn’t have to work too hard. He’d given up trying to escape the portal, and its leverage outstripped Olivia’s.
Fabric tore. They fell through. The portal closed, but someone stood where it had been. I remembered.
“Horace died here. He can’t go to the Under without a monarch's permission.”
“She’ll make it.” Al reached out a hand. He didn’t pat Olivia’s back or shoulder. I guessed he didn’t want to get whacked in the face with a wing.
“She won’t.” Olivia’s voice came out all strangled. I saw what she held in her lap.
“That’s her insulin in there.” I whirled, about to lay into Lane Meyer and demand that he open another portal and get her back, even though I knew he was all out of Psychic mojo. I would have, too, a week earlier. But not after I saw his face.
Lane’s expression was flatter than a week-old soda. His knees wobbled and he held on to Henry like the blood-deprived vamp was a lifeline and not a threat to anything with a pulse. He looked like Blaine had on the day of his stepdad’s funeral.
Old Tony would have chewed him out, but I had to be New Tony. Being a better friend wasn’t just for when the chips were up.
“It ain’t your fault, Lane. The Extramagus is a literal and figurative Dick.” I glanced at Horace’s ghost, who was staring at the spot where the portal had been. I had some idea of how Olivia must have felt when I died that ninth time. “And anyway, Ed’s on the Seelie side of the Under right now. Maybe he can make sure Bianca’s okay. Can you get him on the secret decoder ring or whatever you use to communicate?”
“I’ll take care of it.” Al Dunstable turned his back and walked a short distance away.
Lynn and Bobby came rushing back from the flipped car, carrying a cooler between them. They set it down next to Lane and Henry. Both of them needed a drink or three by then, but I had something else to do.
“Kiki, you okay?” I wrinkled my nose. “Why do I still smell blood?”
“Because that monster cut off my actual tail. I let you assume, but I’m not a Kitsune.” My godmother held a wad of blood-soaked fabric against her backside. I barely recognized the sash she’d recently worn around her waist to hide all the tails. “Just your average fox shifter. I collected the tails and they gave me magic because I come from a family with Kitsune blood, but I wasn’t born in the Under. I can’t bind them to myself in anything but a literal sense.”
“Hoo, boy.” Olivia tilted her head, peering at my godmother. Her hand brushed against mine. “So, Kitsunes really are extinct.”
The sadness in Olivia’s voice moved me to put my arm around her shoulders. Even with the wings, it wasn’t awkward. Her arm went around my waist, and her cheek pressed to my chest just below my collarbone.
“They’re not.” Henrietta Thurston stood up, reaching behind her head to unbind her hair. “I’m Karen’s blood kin, and like the two of yo
u, I was born in the Under.”
The hair tumbling down the Headmistress’s back and around her shoulders had no more gray in it. The light brown took on ruddy tones. She smiled as seven tails waved out from behind her.
“Your ex is so screwed.” I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. He is.” Henrietta’s smile managed to get toothier and scarier. “The next time he shows his face anywhere near my school or the kids in it, he’s getting a blast of Foxfire he won’t soon forget.”
“Mama!” We all turned at the sound of the child’s voice.
Hope Tolland stood at the spot where Richard’s wand had landed. She wasn’t pointing at the magical instrument. Instead, she had her finger nearly on the bright object he’d thrown. A feather. I felt the object in my pocket, the piece of obsidian carved so it could have been the dark fraternal twin of that other feather. Its energy was decidedly Unseelie. The thing on the ground was its opposite.
“No, kid!” I let go of Olivia and ran toward Gemma’s daughter but then I stopped, remembering the promise I’d made that brought me back to life. The kid was about to gain power and I couldn’t keep her from it, no matter how badly being separated from her mother would hurt her in the long run. I made myself a promise to look out for the kid. At least she’d have someone around who knew that kind of pain.
Hope’s finger met the bright feather, her mouth open as if to scream. A sound came out, saccharine for the ears, a song unheard in the mortal world for over two decades, by my calculations. Her eyes widened. I was close enough to hear the creak of reforming bone, but no one missed her emerging wings. They glowed with a rainbow of colors, feathers shimmering even in the scant light of a cemetery at night.
“Hope!” Gemma dashed toward her daughter. I held her back, not an easy feat with a statuesque troll.
“You can’t, Gemma.” I shook my head, hissing as I dug my heels in. “Because you feel it, right? You’re Unseelie, and she’s the opposite of that now. You’ll both get put to death.”
