by T S Paul
There were nods all around even before Chuck raised his hand to speak. “We’ve all met Emesh. He’s like one of the really ancient Gods, right?”
“Yes, he is indeed. You could call him one of the creator Gods. The Oak King is one of his many incarnations. Through my work with the coven and the council I’ve met many others,” Marcella replied with a smile. “They haunt this world.”
“Haunt? Like ghosts?” Chuck asked.
Marcella nodded. “You have to remember this is the modern age. Something both the demon lord and the dragon lord forgot. Humanity, while infinitely resilient, is very smart. They learn and grow quicker than many of the other races. Many of the ancient Gods refuse to give up on them. There is always that tiny hope that prayer will be forthcoming and their return to prominence foretold.”
“Like with Wicca and some of the other pagan groups out there? That charges them up?” Chuck asked even as he started to nod. “What about ones that become commonplace like that florist delivery or those movies about the guy with the hammer? Do they do the same thing?”
“Somewhat,” Minerva answered for her friend and employer. “Some science fiction writers have gotten it correct. Any worship counts for something. The Gods have many, many incarnations. Some are simply shades of the original. Like Odin, Wotan, and Mister Wednesday. Same person, but different. Read the book, don't watch the television show.”
“Right, sometimes just speaking their name helps as well. Especially for the older, more obscure deities. Many of them have simply been forgotten or absorbed by newer ones. But we’re getting off track. The Goddess Inari is the mother of the kitsune. Legend tells that she left the Pathways of Heaven in their care when she ascended to a higher plane of existence. But without the Goddess and her influence, kitsune society crumbled. Factions were created. Light versus dark being the most prominent. And they were exiled to Earth for it. Since then they’ve warred against one another, clan against clan. It was this war that brought Ken, Agatha’s father to us.”
Marcella paused, her eyes scanning the room. Using both hands, she swept her hair back. “Ken, real name Kintaro or Kenji, was one of three sons belonging to the Shinigama family of kitsune. That particular family resides in San Francisco, California. Ken was on the run and desperate. The town took him in, no questions asked, like it has for hundreds of years. He met my daughter and game over. She and Agatha became his life.”
“Until they took it all away,” Cat muttered. Waving at the others around the room, she continued, “Chuck and I know the rest of that story. The clan conspired with Camilla to kill him.”
“Mostly. My daughter did the deed herself where his clan could not. I doubt we’ll ever know the whole story. Ken was afraid for his life and that of his family. Cappy and I’d talked to him about it one night when Agatha was just a babe in arms. They told him he was the key, the solution of a thousand lifetimes. Having watched his own father sacrifice more than a dozen family members on the orders of the priests, Ken assumed that meant he was next. So he ran for it,” Marcella replied.
“And now they have Agatha,” Chuck stated.
“Yes they do. But she’s awake and we have resources they know nothing about. How about we get her back?”
Chapter Twelve
“We will complete the ritual and open the door. You, like your father before you were conceived as a key to paradise. Through you we shall accomplish much,” the old priest proclaimed as he stood in front of me.
Mounted to the wall inside the throne room, I hung there like a side of meat on display for all to see as richly dressed kitsune peered and poked at me. They’d tried to drug me but now that my bracelets were awake, nothing they gave me worked. My offensive magic didn’t work either, though. I suspected Khonsu was trying to make a point here somewhere. For now, I was content to squint at the goings-on of one side of the kitsune court.
“We know you are listening. Have you nothing to say to refute us?” Unway asked.
Opening my eyes all the way, I looked down at the kitsune priest. Unlike many of the others in the room, he had six tails rather than the standard three. Rank was a thing among these people.
“What would you have me say? You seem set in your convictions to use my body as you see fit. Kidnapping me from under the noses of my team, the FBI, the army, and a draft of dragons even while I was in a fight was ambitious. It’s a lot of trouble just to kill me though. If this is how you treat distant relatives, I’d hate to see how you are with immediate family.”
“You are no family of ours. What was my son thinking?” Lord Shinigama pronounced from his throne.
“That he loved my mother and wanted to settle down. No thanks to you and yours. It’s not right that he was terrified of his family,” I replied. “Family is there to love and support you.”
“Family does as they are told. Kenji was to have been our savior. It was foreseen that a child of my line would open the door. He was a disgrace to his family,” the clan lord spat. Raising his arms in victory, he shouted to the kitsune milling about the room. “But we have you now and the prophecy will be fulfilled. With your blood we have it all.”
“Why blood?” I murmured low enough for only the guards and priest to hear. “If the door closes how do you plan to return?”
Chief priest Unway scowled at me. “Worthless child. You know not of what you speak.” The young priest beside him looked troubled, though. Leaning toward his superior, he voiced his concern.
“Fool!” Unway pushed the young man aside. “She seeks to sway you from the cause. Seal your ears or leave. I have no doubts.”
“What is this,” Lord Shinigama asked. Leaving his throne, the large kitsune approached the priests. “What did she say? The ceremony must go as planned. We’ve sacrificed so much for failure now.”
The younger priest prostrated himself, his forehead touching the floor. “The prisoner…”
“Silence!” Unway kicked at his assistant, driving the man before him. “Hold your tongue in the presence of our lord. Insolent dog.”
Glaring at the duo, Lord Shinigama barked the order to stop. “The ceremony goes as planned?”
Unway kicked the younger priest again before turning to the clan lord. Bowing, the priest met his leader’s eyes, “Yes, Lord. Her blood will open the door for us.”
“Why blood?” I repeated. “This is the gate to the Goddess Inari’s realm, is it not?”
“The ritual is the ritual. There is power in life that eclipses all others,” the lord explained. “It is written in our lore.”
I shook my head at them. “Blood Magic is only a single degree above that of demonic. You’d think a Goddess of prosperity would avoid that. She embodies the light, after all. Any magic used for evil is evil. There are other ways.”
“Which have been tried. For countless years they’ve been tried. Sacrifice is the greatest form of loyalty to the cause,” Unway stated even as he approached his lord.
“Did any of your current victims try magic? I heard the priests speak of my father’s brother. How his bloodline was to be used. Gate Magic is specific. Was spellwork attempted before death? If my blood opens the door how does it stay open or used a second time? Someone’s sold you a pig-in-a-poke here. A one time use spell does no one any good,” I explained to them. “My death should mean more than painting the walls.”
“Silence you. You know nothing of our people,” Unway snapped at me. Pointing at the guards, he started giving orders. “We will do this now. Bring forth the door.”
“Hold!” Lord Shinigama cried out. Eyes closed, head down, the kitsune lord stood as if frozen in ice. Only his lips moved. Turning his head, he glared at the priests for what seemed like a long second. “Did we try? Were any attempts made to save my children using magic not blood?”
“Lord, the prophecy states…” Unway responded.
Shinigama held up his hand, stopping the priest in mid-sentence. “Did my son attempt to open the door magically? Yes or no.”
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p; “The scroll clearly states that blood is needed to access the door. Danji did what was expected of him,” Unway answered.
“So no then,” the clan lord replied. Shifting his attention to me, he waved to the guards. “Bring forth the door and place it near her.”
“Mistakes happen. No one, even clan lords, is infallible. Within my realm of duties I am a Guardian. It’s my job to protect the pathways from those that would destroy them. Is it possible your sons were similar?” I asked.
“Explain yourself,” the lord ordered.
Keeping them talking ensured I stayed alive that much longer, so I did. Explaining the origins of guardians and what they did took hours. It was fortunate that Agnes Pickleberry and Khonsu drilled the information into me. Some of it I didn’t understand myself.
“That proves nothing. The ritual could disprove all of it,” Unway replied. While I explained he’d sent for the magical scroll giving the blood ritual. Nowhere in the document did it actually say blood sacrifice.
“Has it worked yet? How many years and victims have you tried? What of the others, the Zenko? Have they been killing others as well to access this place? I know you stole the door from them. Your people have extremely loose lips when they think they’re alone and safe,” I explained.
My many conversations and training led me to this confrontation. Khonsu was entirely too sneaky for his pantheon. There were many, many unanswered questions. If I escaped this, I was sure he’d answer them. Or make me figure it all out, again. Gods. Bracing myself for possible pain and suffering, I made them an offer.
“I’ll open the door for you, but I have demands,” I told the clan lord.
“You are in no position to make them. We hold the high ground in this situation. Your blood can still be used in the ritual. Our clan will still win this,” the lord responded.
I shook my head. “And that’s worked so well for you in the past. I have no heirs, remember? This is literally your last chance until the bloodline resets. Guardians are rare. Can you truly wait for another to appear?” I asked him.
This was my ultimate hole card. My death. There was so much to live for. I wanted a mate, a career, and the freedom to simply live my life in the world of my choice. But to achieve all that I needed to risk my life. The wheel turns. My soul might join the endless cycle of death and rebirth because of this, or it might go where even I couldn’t predict. I had my own prophecy to live out too. Everyone seemed to forget that bit.
“What are your terms?” Lord Shinigama asked.
Chapter Thirteen
“Where exactly are we again?” Cat asked, poking at a pinecone half the size of her head.
“Humboldt, California. This is as close as I can get us without using mundane means,” Marcella replied. Getting here was as much a pain in the ass as she’d thought it would be. “Remember, none of you can ever, and I do mean ever, speak of where these portals are or who owns them.”
“That’s too bad on so many levels. Chuck and I could sure use them for that future venture we discussed. Having secret and secure transportation anywhere in the world is wonderful from a security standpoint. But I do get it. The Council’s secrets are safe with us,” Cat replied as she fiddled with her cell phone. “According to this we’re half a state away from where we have to be. Any ideas?”
“You and Charles are the investigators, dear. I am able to teleport us short distances but I need to have been there before to see where I’m going. The locals here were supposed to have transportation available. I did call ahead,” Marcella looked around at the forest as if searching for something.
Chuck, on guard, did the same thing. “Is it the Fae? I know they have enclaves somewhere around here. Not much else lives in the forest unless there are some Weres. Are there Weres? Some of the prey variety, maybe?”
Marcella smiled. “Unfortunately no. Weres would actually be easier than these people. The Fae turned my use of the portal down. Citing the official guidelines the council set down as the excuse. It’s my thought the door opens up into something they wish to remain private. You’ve noticed none of them have asked for transport off world. I expect them to make their own deal with Washington and the new government. Much of the exotic herbs and device market comes from them. This is something else, a species rarely seen outside the council chambers.”
Chuck continued to scan the trees until Cat clapped him on the shoulder. The diminutive Werecat alpha and former FBI agent had better senses and noticed the forest locals before he did. “Don’t make any sudden moves.”
Freezing Chuck slowly turned his head in her direction. “Whoa, that’s not something you see every day and me without my camera!”
Standing next to one of the very large trees was a dark furry shape. If the duo hadn’t been actively searching, they’d have missed it completely.
“Ah, excellent. Our contact is here,” Marcella exclaimed. “You can join us if you like. Just ignore the kids, they’re new to all this.”
Sunlight revealed the dark shape as an apelike creature standing at least six feet tall. Large, well defined fur-covered muscles made the obvious Bigfoot’s arms and legs stand out.
“That’s a bigfoot! Holy crap!” Chuck almost yelled out loud.
“Calm yourself, Charles. You may call this individual Brad. He goes by other names, but the Americanized version is best. He’s my usual contact on the Species Council,” Marcella explained even as she switched to French and spat out a fast couple of sentences. Responding in the same language, Brad the Bigfoot waved his hand and nodded.
“Wonderful. Some of Brad’s people should be here momentarily with transportation for us. Beyond the usual, is there anything you’d like to know about him?” Marcella asked them.
Ignoring Chuck dancing around with his arm in the air like an idiot, Cat dove right in. “Are they worried at all about the political climate? I’m sure we can find them an escape route if we need to like all the others. Landing a Bigfoot would be a feather in the cap of any agency today.”
Brad chuckled before speaking high speed French at Marcella again, who chuckled as well.
“He says you should pay more attention to history. No one has found him or his people yet and they’ve been searching for years with cameras, sensors, and dogs. Brad’s people could hide on a pool table if they so wished it. He appreciates your offer as well Catherine, but they have their own magic and ways of getting around. One day they might even show you, if you’re that interested,” Marcella explained.
“There is a first for everything though,” Cat commented. “Tell him I do understand I might take him up on that offer, one day.”
Brad cocked his head to one side even as he started to chuckle again. A true Bigfoot laugh sounded like an owl crossed with a hyena. Deep and sharp was one way to describe it. Pointing North suddenly, Brad caught everyone’s attention.
“Our ride’s here,” Marcella said. “Thank you, Brad.”
Chuck looked back and was unable to find the large creature. “Where’d he go?” He started scanning the tree line and bushes again.
Cat snorted. “Chuck, let it go. At least you can say you’ve met one.”
“But, Bigfoot! We saw him once, I can find him again.” Chuck looked a bit frantic.
“Bet you a dollar. They are only seen when they wish it. It’s a bit like Fergus and sarcasm. He only turns that bit of himself on when you two are around. Normally he’s quite sweet,” Marcella said with a smile.
“Are you talking about the same pain in the ass unicorn we all know? Sweet isn’t a word I would use for that little hay burner,” Chuck shook his head. “I’ve seen him in all situations too.”
“It’s a witch thing, you wouldn’t understand. At least they sent a big vehicle. Squeezing you into a compact car would be most difficult.”
“Has Robert located him yet? Fergus, I mean,” Cat asked.
“Not yet. There are strange reports of a horse stealing and eating beef jerky at a very wide variety of convenience s
tores from Maine to Missouri. We’ll have to assume he’s on his way. Do keep an eye peeled for him,” Marcella replied with a smile.
A large four-wheel-drive SUV pulled up near them in the forest, a burly man dressed in logging gear driving. “Witch party of three?”
“You are not Elvis,” Fergus said to the large man in a white suit with sparkles.
“Sure I am son, how many folks do you know can sing like this,” the white clad man broke out into song performing a surprisingly good rendition of Hound Dog on his ukulele.
Hopping down from the table he stood on, Fergus shook his head a few times. “Nope. I don’t think so. I’ve listened and watched the real Elvis on the Tube more than once. Besides, when did the real Elvis become a vampire?”
Elvis smiled, one fang peeking out, down at the tiny horse-like creature in front of him. “I’m as much Elvis as you are a unicorn.”
“Nope. I watch that XYZ show on the internet. They’ve never said anything about Graceland vampires. I know a big shot in the vamp world too. She’s never told me about it. Friends tell each other stuff like that, mister not-Elvis.” Fergus accused.
“Accidents happen. Who could you possibly know that matters to someone like me, anyway?” Elvis asked as he watched the unicorn investigate the small local Missouri museum.
Fergus bounced around from one exhibit to the other, sometimes jumping up to look closer at things. Still on his way to California, he’d stopped at this roadside dive in Wright City, Missouri when he saw the sign for Elvis. Some music legends deserved a look, besides he thought he might be able to get a fried egg, bacon, peanut butter, and banana sandwich like the King used to eat. That sort of thing was hard to get on the road.
“Not gonna say? Vampire royalty doesn’t hang with tiny horses. They might snack on one though,” Elvis said.
