by Forthright
While she meandered back the way she’d come, Tsumiko brought out her phone and texted her brother.
I have a beach. Come share it with me.
Summer vacation can’t come soon enough
Does Suuzu like to swim?
He’s willing to learn
Tsumiko tried to figure out what to call Michael and Sansa. They were technically employees of the estate, but this was their home. Weren’t they more than hired help?
My housemates have children who will be home for the summer.
Any guys my age?
I’ve only heard about two girls.
I’ll ask if there’s a brother.
She sent him a snapshot of the view, and he took one that showed part of his dorm room. Once again, Suuzu was in the picture, one clawed hand straightening Akira’s hair.
Behold, a miracle!
Since when is your room clean?
Since Suuzu
He’s a good influence.
More like OCD
Tsumiko tucked away her phone and sat in the sand at the base of the cliff. Drawing her knees to her chest, she pulled her skirt around her legs and gazed out over the water. In summer this was probably the perfect place to play, but steely skies dulled the sea to a lonely shade of gray.
Movement along the beach caught her eye.
Someone else was out for a stroll, and he was headed her way. Since she’d already gone that direction, Tsumiko knew he couldn’t have missed the driftwood barricade and privacy signs. The man had spotted her, for he raised a hand and angled her way. She wondered belatedly if she could be in danger. But Michael’s wards were supposed to keep threats to her and Argent at bay.
“Good morning! Are you the new mistress at Stately House?”
“Yes.”
He ambled closer, but stopped a little ways off. He’d pulled a battered straw hat low over his eyes, and his feet were bare. Thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of faded jeans, he announced, “I’ve been away for a while, but I’m back.”
She hadn’t expected that. “You live here?”
“Guess you could say I’m your gardener, though it’s also my job to groom the beach.” He was watching her from under his hat’s sagging brim. “You didn’t know?”
“Michael mentioned a gardener my first day here. It slipped my mind.” She started to get up. “I’m Tsumiko Hajime.”
“No need to stand … or stand on formalities.” He strode forward and crouched beside her, offering a hand. “I’m Gingko.”
Tsumiko’s eyes widened, for her gardener had claws.
He sighed. “Nobody told you about me?”
“No.”
“Figures.”
Gingko pushed back his hat. He was younger than she expected—about her own age, perhaps a little older. While he had the famed beauty of the inhuman races, his pupils were round. Which only confused Tsumiko further, because it made Gingko seem more human.
His crooked smile revealed a distinctly Amaranthine fang. “It’s not like Argent’s proud of me or anything. It’s actually the other way around.”
“You’re proud of him?” she asked.
He snorted. “More like he’s ashamed of me.”
The wind teased at the thick fringe of hair now showing, and Tsumiko murmured, “Silver?”
“Okay, Miss Hajime. Let’s get the worst over.” Gingko sat cross-legged in the sand and pulled off his hat.
Despite his youth, Gingko’s unruly hair was completely silver. Some sections curled against his jaw, others stuck out at odd angles, as if he had a dozen cowlicks. Tsumiko decided it looked more like fur than hair. He ran both hands through the thatch, messing it up further, and then … pricked his ears.
“Are those …?”
Gingko grinned rakishly and gave them a wiggle. “They’re real, and they’re mine. My hearing’s better than decent.”
He looked a little like a cat. Or certain breeds of dog. But Tsumiko didn’t want to offend by guessing wrong. “Which of the Amaranthine clans do you belong to?”
“Can’t you guess?” He held up a finger and began unbuttoning his shirt.
She stiffened and risked a sidelong look in the direction of the stairs.
“Calm down. I’m nobody dangerous. I only wanted to show you this.” He parted the fabric just enough to reveal a small patch of blue skin in the center of his chest. “If you look sideways and squint, there’s a resemblance.”
Tsumiko obediently tipped her head and narrowed her eyes.
He chuckled.
She blinked. “You look like Argent.”
“Sure I do. He’s my father.”
SEVENTEEN
Brave and Brazen
Gingko edged closer, his voice dropping into conspiratorial tones. “You’re more powerful than the others.”
He crossed right into her personal space, but Tsumiko couldn’t back away with the cliff behind her. “Others?” she asked.
“Dad’s other mistresses.” He grinned. “Makes him sound like a cad, doesn’t it?”
She knew better, so his little joke wasn’t funny. But his remark had her reassessing her assumptions about Gingko’s age. “How many have you met?”
“More than I want to admit, and none that I liked.”
“I thought Aunt Eimi was nice,” Tsumiko said, still trying to reconcile what she knew about Amaranthine with Gingko’s contradictions. “Michael and Sansa loved her like family.”
Gingko’s ears lay back, and he dragged his claws through the sand. “She was better than all the rest put together, but look what she did to Dad.”
“What did she do?”
“Turned him into a proper British butler,” he said, disdain plain on his face. “I’ve seen Amaranthine foxes. If they saw him trussed up in his brushed suit and bow tie, bowing to humans and opening doors and polishing silver teapots, they’d laugh him into the next millennium.”
Tsumiko frowned. “You’ve seen foxes? Aren’t you one?”
“You’re different than them. Stronger.” Gingko reached for her hand and pressed it to his chest. “Say, Tsumiko. I’ve been away for a long time, you know?”
She wasn’t sure what to make of the tangled impressions coming from Gingko. He didn’t have the same huge, clawing need for her as Argent. The emptiness she touched was something much more familiar. She understood loneliness. “Am I supposed to tend to you as well?”
“That’d be great. Thanks for offering!” He scooted forward until his nose bumped hers. In a playful tone that would have fooled her if she hadn’t seen behind it, he asked, “How come you’re so brave?”
“Am I?”
“Standing your ground like a battler.” Gingko eased his body even closer, whispering, “Don’t be scared. I only want to … sorta … like this. Okay?” He reclined in the sand beside her, propped on an elbow as he settled his head against her shoulder.
The position gave Tsumiko an excellent view of his ears, which were lightly furred inside and out. She trailed her finger along one’s edge; it quivered under her touch. “Sorry,” she whispered, embarrassed by her own audacity.
“Used to it. Everyone likes the ears. You can pet them. Fair trade.”
She slipped her arm around his shoulders, getting more comfortable, and Gingko nestled in. After a moment’s hesitation, she indulged her curiosity. His ears were soft, and he responded to her touch in much the same way Minx had, basking in the attention.
“You’re nice.” Gingko sighed and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her more firmly against him. “Don’t tell Dad. He’d be pissed.”
She doubted that. Why would Argent care if she tended to his son? That’s when the truth really hit home. That this was Argent’s son. Did her butler have a wife? Had his enslavement broken up their family?
No wonder Gingko was l
onesome.
Tsumiko relaxed, her thoughts drifting off to Akira. Did her little brother have someone to hold him when he was sad? Was that something Suuzu did for him? His best friend always seemed to be with him, and in every picture of the two of them, the boys were touching. Maybe it was an Amaranthine thing. What had Michael said about visceral ties and animal-like behavior?
Gingko’s nose bumped her jaw. “Too slow. What’s the hold-up?” he muttered. “Ditch this, will ya?”
And before she could prevent him, he flipped the catch of her bracelet. He immediately jerked away from her with a gasp, staring at her with wide eyes.
“I’m not supposed to take the beads off!” she exclaimed.
“I can see why!” Scrambling to his knees, Gingko swayed. “Whoa, lady, where do you put it all?”
“Where’s my bracelet?” Tsumiko exclaimed. “Did you see where it fell?”
He pawed through the sand, coming up with the string of beads. “Quick! Maybe if we get it back on, he won’t notice.” Gingko swore, and his breaths came heavily. The clasp slid into place, and he stared into her eyes, his own crossing slightly.
Tsumiko whispered, “Are you all right?”
“Not even close.” He slumped forward, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m so dead.”
“Gingko.”
He swore again and eased back. “Hey, Dad.”
Argent glowered down at them. “If you have a need that cannot be satisfied by Sansa’s cooking, go to Michael.” To Tsumiko, he said, “You are under no obligation to succor every beggar who comes to the door. Especially this one.”
“I don’t understand.” Tsumiko turned to Gingko, whose ears had developed a marked droop. “Didn’t Aunt Eimi tend to you, too?”
“Once in a while. On the sly.”
“Tsk. Her indulgence was a mistake.”
“Will someone please explain?” Tsumiko asked, “Why is this such a problem?”
Gingko said, “Because I’m only half fox. My mother was human.”
EIGHTEEN
Resistance Effort
When his office door slammed open, Michael glanced up from the collection of international newspapers strewn across his desk.
“What’s going on around here?” Gingko strode into the room two steps ahead of Argent, who had Tsumiko firmly by the elbow. “Michael’s wards are stacked against foxes. The woods are full of Sansa’s tripwires. And Dad’s in a mood over an honest mistake. Makes a guy feel unwelcome.”
Michael felt a knot loosen deep inside and smiled. “Welcome home, Gingko. I see you’ve met Miss Tsumiko.”
“Yeah, yeah. Good to be back.” He thumped the desk with both fists and leaned forward, speaking more quietly. “Say, she seems different. Is it the kind of different we need?”
“I’ll admit to holding out hope.” Michael searched their prodigal’s face, finding him thinner, wilder, and brazen as ever. “You ran off without saying goodbye.”
“I don’t like goodbyes,” he grumbled.
Michael softly said, “Mrs. Eimi would have liked the chance to wish you well.”
Gingko’s ears wilted. “It wouldn’t have made any difference.”
“She loved you.”
“Enough to wish me well, but not enough to grant the only wish I ever had.”
Michael sighed and raised his voice a notch. “Where were you all this time?”
“Around.” Gingko moved back, including Argent and Tsumiko in the conversation. “I wanted to see if the so-called peace was more than propaganda. And … if there were any signs of people like me.”
“A scant nine months after the Emergence,” Argent said scornfully. “And you were hoping for what? A baby boom?”
“To be fair,” Michael interjected. “There are rumors of others. And Hisoka Twineshaft has proposed laws to protect the rights of those who come forward.”
“Which he cannot,” Argent said. “Since I do not exist.”
Gingko hunched his shoulders. “I won’t register if it’ll expose Dad.”
“There are other options,” Michael reasoned. “For instance, we could say you’re a foundling.”
“Tsk. Think!” snapped Argent. “Unaffiliated with a clan, he would lack their oversight and protection. Your medical researchers would snap him up, ignore his nascent rights in favor of their nebulous greater good, and exploit him as a test subject.”
“Wow, Dad. Almost sounds like you care,” muttered Gingko.
Argent bared his teeth. “And once they’ve vivisected you to unravel the secrets of your wretched existence, your genetic profile would invariably lead them here.”
“That’s more like it. Good old Dad.”
Tsumiko was looking strangely at her butler. “You know about medical research and genetics?”
“I may be antiquated, but I can read.” Argent’s gaze swept the room’s bulging bookshelves. “Michael shares.”
“Really?” Tsumiko asked, interest piqued.
Michael’s lips tugged upward. He’d noticed her thirst for knowledge. Vague and evasive answers didn’t stand a chance against her cross-examination. “My entire library is at Argent’s disposal, as are the news feeds, periodicals, and reaver communiques that cross my desk.”
She turned to Argent. “You’re allowed? Even if they’re allies, there must be things reavers don’t want the Amaranthine to know.”
“What’s the harm?” Deciding now was as good a time as any to broach the subject, Michael added, “Besides, I’m the current head of a very small resistance effort.”
Tsumiko took a step toward his desk. “What are you resisting?”
“The enslavement of Amaranthine by humans of reaver descent.”
A smile bloomed, only to fade into a small pout of confusion. “You want to set him free, too?”
“Yes, miss.”
“Then why did you bind him to me at all? Couldn’t everything have stopped here?”
Could it have? Michael swiftly retraced his duties as a reaver and his contractual obligations as the Hajime family’s ward, but even more so, his loyalties as a friend. Had he fallen into the same trap as Lady Eimi, binding Argent because he couldn’t bear to lose him? Surely not! It had been necessary … hadn’t it?
He lifted a stricken gaze to find two pairs of pale blue eyes studying him.
Michael fumbled for words. “With the cousins squabbling over who would claim him, I was relieved when the search produced a viable alternative. My only thought in binding them was for Argent’s safety, but … oh, friend. Did I prolong your captivity?”
“In one sense, yes.” Argent’s brows lifted a fraction. “In another, you saved my life.”
“What if that was your only chance? What if I’d been able to undo the bond instead of dutifully remaking it?”
“Could he have?” asked Gingko.
Argent shook his head. “To prevent my escape, those first reavers wove conditions into the bond. The shriveling my mistress detected during the ceremony was a consequence of the time it took to find a suitable soul. If you had not renewed my captivity, I would have died.”
“You were dying?” Michael’s heart clenched. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
With a cryptic smile, Argent replied, “There is more than one way to end this enslavement.”
Gingko spoke up. “So the bond was necessary. Michael had no choice.”
“Yes,” said Argent.
Tsumiko asked, “Could you free him now that he’s safe?”
Michael traded a look with Gingko, whose fanged smirk left no doubt to his fox heritage. Oh, yes. Miss Tsumiko was the right sort of different. “I hope so, miss. With your cooperation, we might be able to pull it off.”
“Unless we are discovered first,” Argent said.
Although Michael was fairly sure he only inten
ded to reinforce Gingko’s decision not to call attention to his existence, his remark had an entirely different effect.
“About that,” said Gingko, whose ears flattened. “Couldn’t help but notice that the approach to the estate boundaries has been … approached.”
“What?” Michael hadn’t felt so much as a flicker through his wards.
“All those wide open spaces between us and everything else in the world, the parts Sansa calls no-man’s-land.” Gingko glanced at his father. “Whoever was nosing around wasn’t being very careful. There are tracks everywhere.”
The extensive Hajime-Smythe holdings butted up against forests, fallow fields, and the sea. Remote as any Amaranthine enclave, they couldn’t be stumbled across or happened upon. Even though Michael already knew what the answer must be, he asked, “What kind of tracks?”
“The kind a normal human wouldn’t notice,” Gingko said. “They’re Amaranthine all right. You think it’s a scare tactic? Letting us know we’re as good as surrounded.”
“Doubtful,” said Argent. “If you had not come skulking home, we would not have found their tracks. Our defense has become their shield.”
“That can change.” Michael drummed his fingers on the desk. “Can you give me more details, Gingko? What clan are we dealing with? How many of them are there?”
“I didn’t slow down to sniff every little thing. I’ll go back with Minx and reconnoiter.”
“You must not be seen,” warned Argent.
“Tsk,” his son answered playfully. “I may not be the real thing, but I’ve learned a few tricks.”
When Gingko vanished, Tsumiko gasped. “How did he do that? He disappeared into thin air!”
Michael chuckled. “You only think he did, miss. He actually left through the window.”
“Amazing,” she murmured.
