Shadow Dancer (Kitsune series)

by Morgan Blayde

  Shaun thumbed on the safety and returned the gun to his waistband. “All right, we’ll go to the kitchen, but no noise, no talking, and do exactly as I say. If I say down, you get down! That way, you won’t accidentally get shot, sliced, or kicked in the face.”

  Yeah, much better to have it happen on purpose.

  Ryan entered the kitchen, leaning the tools he carried against a chair. I followed. I’d worked up an appetite running. Lust and fear had distracted me, but hunger was coming back. Shaun hurried to the kitchen’s side door where he took up guard position, staring outside, gun in hand, safety clicking off. The cant of his head let me know he strained for every scrap of sound, tuning himself to the building.

  I went to the sink and lifted the window above it.

  Shaun turned and lifted an eyebrow at me, as cold air snaked in.

  I tapped my nose and whispered, “I’ll smell them coming.”

  He shrugged and turned attention back to the square window set in the door, staring out.

  Ryan went to the stove. There was food there, covered up, but no longer piping hot. He made a plate and went to the microwave.

  I lightly slapped the back of his head.

  He looked at me, puzzled.

  I mouthed the word “no” and shook my head. Microwaves were noisy. We’d eat our food cold and like it. Ryan needed to carb up to shift forms. I had to fuel my ghost walking, feeding my aura.

  Ryan went to the table, eased back a chair, and sat.

  I went to the stove, rolled up some sausage links in a large pancake, and headed for the fridge for a carton of OJ to wash it down. The sugar would kick start my metabolism. I poured for Ryan and me, and settled next to him.

  He patted my hand in reassurance.

  I pulled my hand away, rolling my eyes, and gnawed my makeshift pigs-in-a-blanket. In the distance, I heard gunfire, and screams, then deathly quiet washed in. That wasn’t any better. The radio stayed quiet, and I wondered if radio silence was being observed. The food I swallowed seemed tasteless, dropping into my stomach and laying there like small ingots of lead. I finished my meal anyway.

  Ryan went back for more while I sat, arms crossed, enduring the syrupy flow of time as my thoughts raced. Okay, I’m a flaming anomaly, but why did that made me so valuable? As I was learning, there were plenty of stranger folks out there. Why go to all this trouble? A small war was raging. People were dying. People with families. At least I’d drawn it all away from Jill and Drew…

  I stood, closed my eyes, and took a deep whiff at the sour, tainted air from the open window. I smelled death, decay, and … Fenn? I smiled. He’d kept his word, coming when I needed him. I just had to make sure he didn’t get shot. I hurried over to Shaun, reaching him as a dark figure ran for our building, breaking from the woods.

  Shaun tried to push me back, clearing the deck for action.

  I grabbed his arm, making him listen to me, “It’s all right. That’s Fenn. He’s with me.”

  “Fine, but did you stop to think; is he running to us, or from something that’s chasing him?”

  I froze. Fenn, run from anything? That didn’t seem at all likely, but still…

  “Grace, you can let go of my arm now.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m going to need it soon.”

  “Oh, okay.” I let him go.

  He looked through the door’s window, watching Fenn approach. “Did you really smell him?” He raised the gun and took careful aim.

  “Yeah, I’m a freak. You might as well say it.”

  I looked to see what he was shooting at. A Rottweiler and a bulldog burst into the clearing, their gaits oddly stiff, slower than I expected. Above them, urging them on with shrill shrieks and calls, cockatoos, parrots, and lovebirds fluttered erratically, barely staying aloft.

  “That’s a valuable skill.” Shaun fired twice, as Fenn’s feet hit the outer porch.

  “Really?” I stepped back as the door opened.

  Shaun kept his gun ready. “Come in, but keep your hands where I can see them, and no sudden moves—or else. I don’t trust easy in a situation like this.”

  Fenn bled momentum, entering at a slower pace. He kept his hands in front of his chest which was zippered into a black leather jacket. His jeans were faded and slashed at the knees. His hot, amber stare shot to me, clinging desperately.

  “Grace, I was worried.”

  Shaun slammed the door and locked it.

  Ryan appeared at my side. “No need, I’m right here, ready to take care of her.”

  Fenn grinned. “That’s what worried me the most.”

  “Never mind that,” Shaun said. “What’s with those animals? I put slugs in the dogs’ hearts. They weren’t even slowed down.”

  Fenn’s grin slipped off, aging him a little. “Zombies, from a pet cemetery I’d say.

  They’re doing a lot of killing out there.”

  Ryan scoffed, “Zombie dogs?”

  Fenn nodded. “Go out there and see for yourself if you don’t believe me.”

  The dogs hit the side porch, paws scratching wood in a furious scramble. They barreled into the door. It shuddered. Then I heard clawing and raspy growls. The Rottweiler leaped, smashing his muzzle into the window. Broken glass sprayed inward.

  Fenn cursed beneath his breath.

  Shaun pocketed his gun, safety on again, and drew his sword. “God, I hate zombies. You can never get graveyard stains out of your clothes.”

  I thrust my hand out and threw cold fire, not sure what I expected. The lash of flames froze the beast in place, then it slumped from view. But the flames flickered up from the animal as if burning an invisible rope. The unseen strand parted, consumed, and the dog didn’t stir. I smiled. I had a weapon that would work on the reanimated pets better than a shovel—provided there wasn’t too many hitting me at once.

  The radio crackled. Cassie’s voice erupted, “Shaun, All perimeter guards are down. The enemy’s coming in from every side. The trees are helping them. Stay out of the woods; they’ll tear you apart. I don’t think we can hold the camp.”

  Shaun said, “We’ll take the road to the main gate. Can Josh run interference?”

  Zombie birds smacked the kitchen window. Claws scraping the screen, they fluttered frantically, beaks gaping, eyes milky marbles.

  Josh’s voice broke over the radio as he answered for himself, “Piece of cake.”

  Shaun put the radio away. He barked, “Everyone to my car.”

  Fenn protested, “It’s a Jag, a freakin’ two-seater.”

  Shaun pulled me to the hall. Fenn and Ryan followed. Way too used to Elita doing his thinking for him, Ryan had grabbed the shovel without thinking of how it would fit in the Jag with everyone.

  More of the sun was up. A strip of gold lay on the wood floor, highlighting the front door. We ran out, Shaun pulling me along by the wrist. I ran beside him, down the steps toward the sleek beast that was his car. Only, we stopped short, gob-smacked.

  The vehicle had become the perch of a drooling Great Dane. Its black face contrasted milky white eyes and a sandy body smudged with gray as if the undead beast had been rolling in ashes. The beast had an entourage of smaller dogs; a toy poodle and twin Chihuahuas that shivered with nervousness. A feathery-eared, black-button eyed Lhasa Apsos curled next to a muddy Pekingese, whose flat face made me think Ryan had smacked it with a shovel, though that wasn’t possible.

  Ryan slid in front of me, shielding me with his too-thin body. Fenn stood by my side, relaxed, as if he handled things like this all the time. Shaun gripped his sword, but held himself very still.

  “They don’t seem to want to attack us,” I noted.

  “They’re the cork in the bottle,” Fenn said.

  Shaun nodded. “I bet they get plenty active if we try to get into the car.”

  “Want me to take them out?” Ryan asked.

  Fenn looked askance at him. “Think you can?”

  Ryan grounded the blade of th
e shovel. It crunched, biting into gravel. “I like my food somewhat fresher, but…”

  I stared at him. “Food?”

  “Most mothmen prey on dogs.”

  I continued to stare, struggling with the reality of what he’d said.

  “What?” he said. “You eat cow, pig, chicken, and fish. You think they don’t have feelings too?”

  I know, but they’re not man’s best friend.”

  “Man’s best friend is mighty tasty with the right barbeque sauce.”

  I shuddered.

  Shaun stood in a bow-legged stance, sword poised in both hands. “Dietary commentary later. Right now, everyone back up those stairs. Run if they come off the car. I’ll take out as many as I can—just get inside and lock the door.”

  I took the shovel from Ryan. “I’m not leaving you to fight them alone. Why don’t we do the attacking?” I asked.

  “Because even more are coming out of the woods.” Shaun’s voice turned harsh,

  “Don’t argue. Do it!”

  Fenn caught me up. I lost the shovel I’d been holding. The world swung wildly until I came to rest over his shoulder. I hung down his back with a wonderful view of his butt. I jounced as he ran, feet thudding the steps. He had no problem at all with leaving everyone else behind.

  Ryan shouted, “Hey! That’s my job.” His feet pounded the wood just behind me as he followed.

  I shoved against Fenn’s lower back, levering my head up so I could see Shaun. I had to know if he’d be all right—or if the zombie dogs were going to rip him into bloody chunks.

  THIRTEEN

  Carrying me over a shoulder, Fenn reached the porch, only to skid to a stop. Ryan slammed into us, making me the baloney in a sandwich. I said a bad word, or two.

  Ryan backed off, returning to the steps. “What the hell are you stopping for?”

  Fenn growled over his shoulder. No wait a second, there were words in there. “Zombies are inside.”

  I pushed up off Fenn’s butt and craned my neck, trying to see Shaun. Patience burning down to nothing, I shouted, “Ryan, out of the way. Can’t you see I’m trying to see here?”

  He jerked to the side. I had a clear view of Shaun and the dogs behind us. They were still in place, ignoring our retreat. Shaun was right. They’d deliberately cut us off from escape. Some intelligence was controlling them, ordering them like pawns on a board.

  Fenn manhandled me, letting me slide down his front side. If death weren’t so close, I really would have enjoyed that. He went around, putting himself between me and the zombies crowding the front door.

  “Looks like we fight our way out after all,” he said.

  “About time someone listened to me.” I called to Ryan. “Don’t just stand there.

  Go get me my shovel.”

  He ignored my imperious command, hunching over, shivering with the onset of metamorphosis. A weird hacking, gagging sound escaped him as he clawed at his clothes. I didn’t need to see him go all mothman again. Once was enough.

  I reached out with my will, gathering the weave of space, twisting magnetic fields. The sun in the trees went from gold to a pale gray. The rest of the world went ashen as well. Gravity loosened its grip. My aura appeared, an orange sheathing of flame. I crouched and leaped, dropping down beside the shovel. My energy bled into the wooden shaft, making it solid, pulling it into the ghost world with me.

  I stalled out, getting a good look at the zombies. They were chunks of meat, lacking aura, with black tethers trailing up and away toward the main gate. The strands pulsed with violet cores, manipulating the critters. At my disappearance from the normal world, the animals on the car sat up, scrambling to all fours. They cast about, scanning the area, sniffing mightily, trying to pick up my scent.

  Like that’s going to work.

  With me gone, all restraint vanished as well; the beasts jumped from the vehicle, launching toward Shaun. His sword blurred. Doggy heads littered the ground, oddly bloodless, but the bodies kept moving. If decapitation fixed most zombies, it wasn’t going to work here. Shaun retreated, ducking, rolling, kicking the meat-puppets away.

  The flames around my hands spread along the shovel as I swung it like an ax, slashing above the charging animals, attacking the cords that manipulated them. The unseen puppeteer posed the true threat.

  If I can just cut the strings…

  The shovel blade bit into the cords as I whirled through a crazy dance. Some of the animals got by me. Others dropped in their tracks, the severed cords dimming and withering, curling away into nothing.

  By then, Ryan had completed his change. Aloft on fluttering wings, his tongue snapped out, bitch-smacking a mutt, and winding around a poodle’s throat. The lap dog was snatched into the air. The fuzz of Ryan’s lower face split apart and a nest of writhing tubers latched onto the dog, piercing it, drilling through the undead meat for anything of nutritional value.

  I shuddered and hastily looked elsewhere, bringing my shovel around in a new cutting arc as I leaped after the Great Dane.

  Fenn got to it first. He tore the beast apart, sliding under its jaw, gripping its forepaws. The limbs snapped loudly. Fenn’s eyes were molten gold, blazing star bright. His hands had morphed, becoming long, tapering claws. Fenn slashed up the dog’s stomach and entrails slithered to the ground.

  Gag me, why don’t you?

  We finished the zombies that had been on the car, but those from the house were now spilling down the stairs, into the yard with us.

  I tossed the shovel and one of those weird cords snapped off of a Chihuahua. It fell on its side, inert, presumably safe, as I crossed over. My aura went invisible as color returned. My limbs felt heavier. Movement was no longer an effortless exuberance. I placed myself in the way of the oncoming critters, calling over my shoulder, “You guys get in the Jag. We’ve gotta run for it.”

  Fighting for its own sake was stupid. That just gives more zombies time to pop up. All we needed here was a delaying action. Cold, ghostly fire pooled in my hands. I poured it out, forming a wall of flames. The beast stopped, backing away as if finally infected with fear.

  I ran for the car, knowing my wall would only buy me a few moments. In no time, the puppet master would figure out that going around was better than going through. The passenger door gaped open. Ryan squawked like a zombie chicken as Fenn stuffed him in the trunk and locked him in. Shaun tossed the keys to Fenn as I reached the car.

  Shaun’s spoke calmly, as if he had all the time in the world, “You’re driving. Head for the front gate and don’t stop for anything dead or alive.”

  “What about you?” Fenn asked.

  That’s what I want to know.

  Shaun leaped onto the hood of the vehicle, landing in a deep crouch, sword in both hands. “I’ll surf the Jag, and troubleshoot our exit as needed.”

  Fenn slid in behind the wheel. “Your funeral.”

  I got in and slammed the door, but that did little to make me feel safe. I looked out the windshield, past Shaun’s legs, buckling for a bumpy ride. Fenn started the engine, shifted gears, and fed gas to the engine. We surged away, into a hard turn. Shaun stayed rooted to the vehicle like he had super glue under his feet. All his advanced martial arts training aside, I still dreaded what might happen to him at higher speeds.

  This is so crazy!

  We spun around and headed down the one road out of here. Acceleration pressed me back in the seat. Fenn gripped the wheel, knuckles white as the speedometer needle climbed. Shaun held his sword one handed, using the other to assist his balance.

  “How the hell is he doing that?” Fenn muttered. “He’s only human, right?”

  I braced myself by gripping the seatbelt that crossed my flat chest. “Shaun’s very good at martial arts.”

  “Must be Bruce Lee, back from the dead...”

  I glowered at him. “Not funny, considering...”

  Fenn shot me a sideways glance. “Yeah, sorry.”

  The Jag jounced over the rutted road, kickin
g up a thick plume of dust that trailed us. Blocking the road, moving stiff as marionettes, I saw cats and dogs—of all color, size, and breed—shambling shoulder to shoulder. Whatever combative instincts they’d once possessed were now turned toward the living. Many of them were red about the mouth having recently fed.

  “I can’t believe this is real.”

  “Just ‘cause they were once cute and cuddly doesn’t mean they won’t kill you,”

  Fenn said, “Makes perfect sense; as targets, they’re much harder to hit.”

  A flash of gold came out of nowhere, something god-awful big moving across the road, slinking low. A wide swath of cats and dogs were gathered up and carried off the road. Some of those remaining flipped head-over-tail, kicked into the air, clawed and crushed by whatever had passed.

  With our enemies considerably thinned, Fenn floored the gas pedal. “What the hell was that?”

  I didn’t want to know. Wait a minute; didn’t Cassie say Joshua would be clearing the way for us?

  The undead flew as the Jag plowed through them, adding a fresh layer of road kill to the road. Zombies clumped on the edges of the road that had missed the harvest turned to follow us, plodding relentlessly. A fringe of tabbies, with an orange Persian and a silver burmilla mixed in, were nimble enough to leap onto the speeding hood with Shaun. Maybe they were freshly dead and therefore more agile—less rot involved. They looked ghastly with soil darkening their fur, their eyes white and staring, teeth bared and bloody from recent feeding.

  The katana flashed; a metallic blur. Sliced and diced body parts drizzled off the windshield, bouncing away, except for one old tom that clung with all claws to Shaun’s left arm. Shaun slipped the blade under its throat. The furry head went flying and Shaun was able to shake off the rest.

  The main gate came into view. I saw a Federal Marshall sprawled in the dust with two undead poodles still tearing at him. There were a lot of crispy critters too, dogs and cats that had been burned to charred mounds. Charred pets also clung to the overhead sign. Strangely, they’d been driven to disfigure the dove branded in the wood. Hmmmm. Maybe we’d had more than Cassie’s wards protecting us this past week.