Shadow Dancer (Kitsune series)

by Morgan Blayde

  Shaun emitted a thin, shrill whistle. “This is so not going to turn out well.”

  “Actually,” Fenn said, “I think they’re both right.”

  I glared at him, using anger to distract me from growing nausea. I felt like I’d eaten something too rare, and it was trying to back up my throat and escape. A gasped as a sharp pain split my skull. Double vision set in.

  What’s wrong with me?

  Fenn lifted hands protectively in front of him. “I’m just saying…”

  Cassie stooped and grabbed my arm. She all but tore it off jerking me to my feet. I stumbled into her. Her teeth were bared, a predator giving warning. “I deserve respect. I fought for you today. Stand and look me in the eye when I talk to you.”

  My stomach spasmed. I bent forward and pressed a hand into my gut, as the world swam off center. The edges of my vision darkened. My body trembled as I dragged up fresh outrage. I forced my head up, meeting her stare with my own. “Well, forgive me for caring if you live or die. There was no way I could … let you…”

  My knees gave way. I fell against Cassie.

  Her arms were surprisingly soft and gentle, as her voice spiked, “Grace! Grace!”

  I no longer saw her, my thoughts whirling off into darkness.

  * * *

  Grace, bring chocolate? The thought insinuated itself, pulling me from darkness, into the ghost-light of … a dream?

  Had to be. I lay on a blue crystal altar. A hunter’s moon hung overhead, every crater and shadow done away with. The orb had a just-polished look of perfection, hanging there. Cold. Unapproachable. The surrounding aspen glowed in the moonlight; white, sinuous limbs thick with golden leaves. The night felt warm, as if autumn had rolled back into summer through some fey enchantment.

  Grace?

  I sat up and swung my feet off the edge to dangle, coming face to face with Tukka. He glowed his usual teal blue, an unchanging element regardless of the ever-twisting dreamscapes we sometimes met in, but something looked wrong about his body. Instead of beefy slabs of muscle, he had a puffy look, like a float in a parade. Even his thoughts seemed less vibrant.

  Focus. Sweet chocolate morsels, rich melty goodness…

  “Just think some up. This is a dream, right?”

  Need real stuff. Tukka real—just walks in dreams.

  Protruding eyes, like big lavender pearls, gave him a zombie look—though I might have been projecting. I reached out to caress his forehead. Cold. Clammy. Smooth as plastic. A tremor went through him.

  “Tukka, are you sick?”

  Keep telling you, Tukka need chocolate! Need fix. The last word brought an ache to my head. I pulled back. My hand pressed over a rapidly pounding heart. I held my breath, waiting as cold fear licked up my spine. I’d never been afraid of Tukka before, but this wasn’t the friend I knew.

  He closed his mouth, hiding those wicked sharp teeth, and blinked, stunned silent by the emotions he tasted in me—or so it seemed. After a long pause, his thoughts came again, softened, tinged with regret, Tukka sorry. Tukka go now.

  He turned ponderously and plodded off without his usual vitality. The trees swallowed him and I was alone. On a crystal altar. Wearing the frilliest gown I’d ever seen, red velvet with crimson ribbons, and bloody lace spilling from elbow-length sleeves. The shoulders were poufy. A black leather bodice cinched my waist, and my hair was rustier brown, cascading to my waist. My nails were long—like talons—painted pomegranate red.

  Prom dress from hell, I thought. The perfect outfit for dancing … with vampires.

  Condition Red, I warned myself, this is no Field of Dreams; think of bad thing … and they will come.

  Too late.

  Red eyes peered at me from the trees. Great shrouded shapes stirred the shadows, milling about. They seemed to be waiting for something … or someone.

  “Hello, Grace—”

  I flinched at a voice that made me spin on my altar.

  “—We meet again.” It was Blaire, Old Stone-Face. Her eyes were hooded by shadow. Her hair was longer, a dark wavy fan falling to her waist. White fireflies descended, dancing on the winds, casting their uncertain light upon her. With a few of her shadows thinned, she appeared subtly more beautiful despite black lipstick and glittery purple eyeliner. She wore a lacy black gown with a midnight-red corset that squeezed her boobs, lifting them, putting them on display.

  Are they fake, like everything else about her, or am I just pissed because she’s flaunting them in my face? Maybe she’s got some magic spell that can enhance…

  I shook off temptation. No. I’ll deal with my deficiencies through sheer force of character, as always.

  Was I imagining her, or was she really in my dream? It’s not unreasonable for a witch to have tracked me across the astral planes, or whatever. “So, what do you want … that I’m not giving you?”

  “I want the world … and everything in it.”

  Damn, we were both talking in ellipsis now. Better stop that. “Just an evil bitch, huh?”

  “From your point of view.” She rounded the altar.

  I turned to keep an eye on her. Whatever those weird things in the trees were, they’d been reduced to the lesser of evils by Ms. Witch.

  She stopped on the opposite side of the altar, caressing the smooth stone surface with her palms. “We got off to a bad start. I’m not really the villain I may seem.”

  “So, you were only taking me out for ice cream, not trying to kidnap me?”

  “Oh, I was trying to snatch you all right, but for the best of reasons.” She started circling again, nails silently scraping the marble slab.

  “Such as?” Turning on the hip of my dress, I kept her in sight.

  “For your own good.” She reached the point she’d started from and started a second circle. “That place you were headed for is a prison. They take children and make lab rats of them. They put them in harms way, assisting federal and military authorities, all in the name of science and the all-mighty dollar. Those facilities don’t come cheap.”

  “Can you stop circling a minute,” I asked. “I’m getting dizzy.” Or maybe it was the weird ring of truth to her words.

  She quickened her pace, closing a second circle. “Soon, I’m almost done.”

  “Done with what?”

  She smiled a little, evil smile.

  I threw myself off the stone, falling with the slow-motion you sometimes get in dreams. I hit, rolled across some rocks, and flowed back to my feet, panting, furious with myself. Witches use circles. Three’s are special to them. If she had closed the third ring I’d likely be under some spell, or at least trapped

  The fireflies dancing around her were green as grass now. With their silent encouragement, she climbed upon the altar, staring at me all the while. Her stone-like face showed real animation for a change. Her voice held passion, “You should be on my side. I’m trying to make a better world for you, for women everywhere. It is our divine right to stand over the insipid males of our species, foot on their throat, dragging them about on leashes so that Mother Gaia can survive.”

  “Gaia?”

  She smiled with regret. “Sorry, that’s all you get, until you wise up.”

  There followed a grinding noise. The altar she stood on trembled and sank. Her face came level with mine. “Think about what’s in your best interest. I’ll be in touch.”

  The altar sank below the turf, taking her along. Soon, only a dark hole remained. All that was needed was a white rabbit with a pocket watch, both of them running late. I came around the hole, carefully staying away from its edge.

  I suddenly remembered the things in the nearby trees; they’d waited all this time, taking in the show. I looked for them. Sure enough, they were silently approaching, shrouded in a creeping ground mist. The air around me took on a cold, threatening edge. The trees seeped blood. No, it was the failing moonlight, stained with the color of my dress. I looked up. A black sun cut across the moon’s ruddy face, an eclipse of reason. This wa
s the realm of nightmare, a place Tukka and I usually managed to avoid. This was the home of bad things.

  Wake up, Grace. Wake up. You don’t have to do this to yourself.

  The stalkers in the woods were well into my small clearing. Shaggy mothmen, gray and brown, skeletal thin, skin like mottled parchment where it showed. They spoke with one synchronized voice, “Let us out, Grace. Only you can do it. You are the Key, the Dancer in Shadow, who overthrows order and balance. You are…

  * * *

  “…Taliesina … stay asleep. It is not your time to awaken.”

  My eyes felt gummy, hard to open. I rubbed them, my hand heavy and slow as I groaned my way back to awareness. Wet sheets clung to me, remnants of a fever dream. I drew a deep breath, and yawned. Hunger made itself known, a mild discomfort. I felt empty, hollow in many ways, but at least the headache and nausea were gone.

  “Taliesina…?”

  That voice again. That name. Cassie?

  I pried my eyes open. Shadows blurred most of the room around me. The lack of sunlight told me I’d slept through the day. On the nightstand, a tiny lamp with a marine blue shade made a watery pool of the air over my bed. I knew the lamp; I was back in my room at Camp Zombie. I wondered who’d carried me back; Fenn, Shaun, or lion-dude.

  A hand caressed the side of my face, brushing back damp hair. A woman’s hand. Cassie settled on the edge of the bed. Anger was gone from her eyes. The lack of animation made a stranger of her.

  “Cas-sie…” I croaked her name, my voice dry and broken.

  “Grace?” She reached to the nightstand and swung a glass of water over to my lips. I lifted my head, surprised at the severe effort of the action. Delicious, cold water sluiced into my mouth and down my throat, bringing relief. Cassie pulled back on the glass as I greedily guzzled.

  “Slowly,” she said. “You’ll make yourself sick. Sicker.”

  “What’s wrong with me?”

  She set the glass back on the nightstand. “The mystical equivalent of toxic poisoning.”

  That widened my eyes. “What?”

  “When you dissipated the witches’ spell from the inside, you absorbed energies at odds with your own. Your chakras overloaded and were shutting down.”

  “Guess my brilliant plan wasn’t so brilliant after all,” I admitted.

  “It’s what I was trying to tell you. At least you’re alive.” Cassie pulled back my covers. “Come on, I’ll help you over to the chair.”

  I gave her a blank stare.

  She smiled wryly. “Or do you like lying in sweated-out bedclothes?”

  “Okay.” Though uncomfortable, I couldn’t have managed on my own. At least she wasn’t offering to hold me up in the shower. That would have been too weird.

  “After I change the linen,” Cassie said, “we’ll get you cleaned up in a warm, soothing shower.”

  Oh, Gawd. There was no help for it. I had to accept being babied by a near stranger since Jill and Drew weren’t here. I hoped they were okay, and not too mad about the train wreck I’d made of their lives.

  Cassie got me out of bed and settled in a nearby chair. I ran my fingers through damp, stringy hair, pulling it back from my face. I wore a tee shirt and shorts, and they were as uncomfortable as the bed had been. A shower looked increasingly delightful as the seconds passed. Cassie opened the curtains, and evening sunlight poured in, red and thick—I’d lost a whole day, maybe more. She turned on another lamp before starting in on the bed. She carried stripped bedclothes into the hall, and returned a few minutes later with fresh sheets.

  She worked quickly, all high energy and brisk efficiency, her gun lodged in a shoulder holster that looked specially tailored. Her perfect breasts had to be a disadvantage in a quick draw. I wondered if she practiced in front of a mirror. As she moved around the bed, I saw a second gun tucked in the back waistband of her slacks. Something to remember.

  “Cassie, when are you going to tell me the truth?”

  She hesitated, then went on with her work. “What truth?”

  “You know about me and … Taliesina. I’ve heard you use that name several times. You know she’s part of me. I want to know everything you know about her.”

  “No.” She said it flat out, in a dispassionate tone. No reprieve. No appeal.

  “Be that way.”

  “I will.” She flicked out a blanket that drifted into place, engulfing the bed.

  “Fine,” I said.

  Cassie came back and reached for me.

  “I can do it myself,” I said.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Maybe I do. I’m not sure I can trust someone with so many secrets.”

  “And how many are you carrying?”

  “That’s beside the point.”

  “Is it?” She gripped my arm to pull me up.

  I shook her off. “If it’s about me, I have the right to know.”

  “Whoever said the universe was fair?”

  “It ought to be. If I were running things—”

  She laughed. “There’s a scary thought.”

  “You’re really not going to tell me?” I heard the whine in my voice and hated myself for it.

  “One day maybe,” her voice began to die and I strained for the rest, “when I find the courage.” I held out my bent arm, pointing an elbow at her. “Well, don’t just stand there, help me up.”

  SIXTEEN

  The shower progressed awkwardly—no surprise. Bare-butt naked—in front of the supermodel-hot fed—left me seething at God; all boobs are not created equal. I emerged squeaky clean and hurried through the towel drying. After applying my guaranteed “rain-fresh” deodorant, I slid into red satin shorts and a sleeveless pink tee with a “Girls Rock” sequined logo. The mirror showed dark smudges under my eyes. My skin looked pale as though I were bloodless.

  Charming.

  I picked up my brush.

  Cassie took it from my hand. “Let me.”

  Wearing the towel, I shrugged. “Whatever makes you happy.”

  She brushed my wet, rusty hair back from my face. Her face, reflected in the mirror, was soft and smiling. “Such beautiful hair…”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, I’m not. No one’s ever told you how pretty you are?”

  “You probably hear it all the time, but not me.”

  “You will. I looked like you when I was your age, a slow bloomer. Just wait, one day you’re wake up…”

  “With boobs?”

  “Among other things. Nature’s just taking her time, getting it right.”

  “Hmmmm.” My hair finished, I tottered back to current bedroom with Cassie’s help. I slipped into the sheets, delighted with their fresh embrace, but one thing bothered me. “Can I just lie around this way? ISIS knows I’m here. They’ll be back with something worse.”

  Cassie’s voice shivered with anticipation, “I hope so. We’re done hiding. Didn’t work anyway.” Her voice deepened, vibrating with a near growl, “You know; I really hate witches, scrying pools, divination crystals, and all things ISIS.”

  “So what’s the new plan?” I reached for the glass of water on the night stand. As my hand neared it, the lamp flickered as though the bulb were dying. I froze in place a second, then pulled back. The small lamp returned to a steady glow.

  Weird. That’s not supposed to happen, unless I want it to.

  Oblivious to the brief flickering, chewing a nail as she considered her thoughts, Cassie faced the window, bathing in the bloody light of the setting sun. “The new plan is to use you to draw them out.”

  The would-be writer in me swam to the surfaced. “You mean ‘in.’”

  Cassie angled her body my direction.

  “They’re already out,” I said. “You want to draw them in, as in ‘into camp?’”

  “Anyway … we have multiple black ops teams from the military on-site now, as well as elite PRT shock troops. Hell, Van Helsing’s out there with holy water and stakes.”

  “The
guy from Dracula?”

  “No, the Van Helsing Academy for Gifted Slayers. They get school credit for this.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  Cassie stared down at me from the foot of the bed, fists set jauntily on her hips.

  “Grace, considering the crowd you’re now running with, you may be the most normal of us all.”

  A small ember of comfort, but I was grateful for it.

  Cassie went on, “By the way, the Vatican’s loaned us their top occult trouble-shooter, Father Vincentia, a rather dour sort, looks like he sucks on lemons in his spare time. Since reading the after-action reports, he’s been urging us to tie you to the bed, and leave you alone with him. I think he’s just watched The Exorcist too many times.”

  I huffed. “Like that’s going to happen.”

  “Oh, the Smithsonian’s Stigmata Force is here too.”

  I pointed at myself. “Totally clueless here.”

  “Me too, but my boss assures me they’re good at ferreting out criminal conspiracies, boo gums, bear bugs, and ancient relics. Probably a good thing they’re here; I need arcania for my curio cabinet. My crystal skull’s a little lonely.”

  Single-knuckle tapping came from the closed hallway door.

  “Just a minute.” Cassie went to the door, opened it a crack, and peered out. I listened to her hushed tones. She closed the door and returned to the foot of the bed. “It’s Ryan. Are you up to seeing him?”

  I sighed. “I suppose so. I owe him that much after getting him locked in the Jag Fenn smashed.” I pulled myself up, packed pillows between my back and the headboard, and nodded at Cassie. “And he is my personal evil minion now.”

  “Everyone should have one,” Cassie murmured, opening the door. “But take some advice, first time he bites the hand that feeds him, rip his heart out and bury him deep.”

  Note to self; don’t get on her bad side.

  With her back turned, I tried the lamp again. As my hand stretched closer, it flickered, damping. I snatched my hand back and the light settled down. Yep, it was me alright.