Thank you, Grace. Tukka lunged, snapped up the gift, and ground it up in his mighty teeth.
“Why are you thanking me? I didn’t dream her up.”
He swallowed, brow furrowing in confusion. Neither did Tukka.
“Well, she must have come from whoever’s dream we’re in.”
Tukka’s hackles bristled. He tensed. A growl hung in his throat, loud as a lawnmower. This dream Tukka’s.
I swung to face the student.
The uniform remained as her body grew taller and filled out, but her scarf vanished. Her shirt unbuttoned itself, revealing a great deal more cleavage. Her hair and nails had grown longer, and she wore an evil smile. Her lips were slut-red. Her skirt grew indecently short, nothing I could wear in public. Hell, nothing I could wear even in my own dreams. Her face matured, but she leaned forward and her hair became a veil.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“Just an old lady selling apples,” she hissed.
An old lady selling apples... Oddly, it took me a moment to place her literary reference. The witch from Snow White… poisoned apples. “Tukka,” I screamed, “spit out that chocolate!”
He met my horrified gaze with one of his own. Too late, Tukka ate whole thing.
My voice came out, a broken whisper, “Tuk … ka…!”
His growl died. He swayed on his feet and collapsed in slow-motion on top of his chocolates. His lilac eyes eased shut. He gasped, tongue lolling out of his open muzzle. Shuddering, breathing turned into a chore. His body shivered, paled to azure. He sweated heavily.
I rushed to him, kneeling.
The witch said, “If we can’t get to you, we will get to everyone you care about. We’ll send for you after things quiet down. You had best come quickly … and alone—or do you have friends you can afford to throw away?” Laughing she faded in a slow dissolve.
I held my palm against Tukka’s barrel chest, but couldn’t feel the thumping of his mighty heart. With a raspy sigh, his side sank and failed to lift with another breath.
“God, no. Not Tukka.”
TWENTY-TWO
I slipped from the dream, but didn’t fully wake, tossing through the night, chased by nightmares of my own devising; none of them belonging to anyone else. I awoke to golden sunlight pouring in the bedroom windows. The room felt empty with just me there. Cassie hadn’t sought me out. That stirred up fresh anger, muddying my emotions. Did I want her in my life or not?
I wished I knew. I wished wishes came true. I wished Tukka—
I choked back a sob. My heart ached where a Tukka-sized hole had been gouged out. What was left strained to burst free, a pressure inside my chest. My eyes were dry. I needed to keep them that way. Once I gave in to tears, I didn’t know if I’d stop. I wanted to talk to someone about Tukka, but he was my secret friend, dead or not. Betraying that secret, even now, felt wrong.
I pulled on jeans, sneakers, and a black tee shirt. I no longer felt the cold, but not wearing a coat would make me stand out once I got away from this place, so I slipped on a turquoise cowl-style sweater and tied a jean jacket around my waist. A tie gathered my hair and let it hang down my back like a fox’s tail. There was a muffler on the dresser—bright red—that had come from the institute with some of my things. It was Drew’s, not mine, and ought to go back to her.
I wound it loosely around my lower face, letting the ends dangle behind me. I felt like a masked avenger setting out to tame the savage streets. My heart is pure so I have the strength of an evolved Pokémon.
Yeah, right. I wanted someone to hold and comfort me with the usual lies.
Fenn?
No. I felt a pang of regret. He’d let Cassie back him down when he should have confided in me—that’s not having my back. That left no one.
Fine. I was leaving this place anyway. It would just be a little harder—scratch that—a lot harder on my own. I had to get past all the security keeping me safe and a prisoner. If only my powers were back…
I held my hand out and concentrated. A small curl of flame sprang up in my palm. Then more fire appeared; a leaping pyre stronger than any I’d produced before. The cold flames fogged the air, turning the moisture into a fine swirl of snow. A spectral wind that shouldn’t have existed in the closed room lifted my hair and tugged at my clothes. The fire ran up my arm and spread to my torso, my other arm, then dropped down my legs. Finally, the blaze engulfed my head. I laughed, borrowing joy from the dancing fire, before letting it go.
My powers are back. Now, nothing can stop me.
A shift of thought tugged on the walls of space, twisting open an unseen door. Color drained away. Gravity flickered, weakening its grip. The usual tingle passed over me, and I was in the ghost realm—but not alone.
What the hell…!
Cassie was there, waiting. It shouldn’t have startled me; she had the same orange-flame aura I did. Whatever a kitsune was, she was one, too.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
I spun and leaped for the bedroom window. We’d spent a lot of early mornings jogging the property. I knew she matched my endurance, but I thought I was faster short term, going all out. If I could get some space between us and get to cover, I just might—
I ghosted through the window, having no need to open it. I dropped slowly toward the ground—as broken glass showered down around me. I looked up. Cassie’s aura was gone. She’d crossed over, breaking the window by crashing through. In the human world, pulled by a different gravity, she passed me, reaching the ground first. Her aura flamed to life and I knew she was back in the ghost realm with me again.
I’d been out maneuvered. She’d gotten ahead of me and, breaking the window, had alerted everyone that something funny was going on.
Ah, well, can’t be helped.
I crossed over, my aura blowing out like a match in a hurricane. Gravity tightened its hold and I slammed down hard through the last seven feet of my jump. I rolled—knees to my chest—through her legs, taking Cassie down to the ground so that she spilled over me. I kept going, jabbing myself with rocks and sticks, sliding through pungent pine needles and powdery earth. Shouts erupted from all quarters. I heard feet pounding on the porch around the corner.
I used the momentum of my roll to carry me back to my feet again. The fact I was skidding down a small bank didn’t hurt. I landed upright on the dirt road with a wall of kids my own age blocking my escape. I didn’t know them, but from the studded leathers they wore, the silver necklace crosses, and bandoleers holding wooden throwing knives, I thought these must be the kids from Van Helsing’s. Beyond them, armed soldiers loaded down with weapons were sprinting our way.
Too bad. Can’t catch a ghost.
I crossed over into the ghost realm, savoring their startled faces as they lost track of me.
A heavy weight slammed into me from behind. I went down in a tangle. Cassie finished her tackle by lunging across me, pinning me to the ground which became solid, feeding off my aura. Oddly, her aura didn’t repulse me like human auras did. Our fires intertwined, strengthened by fusion.
Cassie snarled in my face, her eyes ablaze like golden coals. Her face had gone bestial: chin pointy, teeth large and jagged, ears long, migrating to the top of her skull. Light fuzz appeared on her elongated cheeks. Her thoughts bled into me from our contact, Give it up, Grace! You’re going no—
Pulling my aura inside, breaking contact with her, cut her voice from my head, causing me to settle into the earth, sinking from her grasp. Buried alive, again, another bad habit. But this time I wasn’t scared. Letting my aura flare around my feet, I turned myself into a human rocket. A blind human rocket. With my lungs screaming for breath, I manipulated my aura and surfaced in the pines. A thin screen of trees lay behind me and the lodge. I cut off the energy seeping from my body, weak from the expenditure.
Free of the ground, I leaped up into the branches, letting them give me better cover. My nerves prodded me to run, but I clung to caution. Further movement might be
tray me to Cassie. She was an experienced hunter, and there was no telling what kitsune powers she had that I hadn’t discovered yet. I eased away on a branch that had no trouble with my reduced weight. A small jump let me ghost through the branches of a tree farther out. As I neared the trunk, finding an open pocket, I passed on enough energy to the bark to catch myself. I looked the way I’d come, checking my trail. I no longer had a clear glimpse of the lodge.
Then it hit me like a club between the eyes: the lodge lay downwind. My scent! I sprang diagonally off my course toward another clump of trees, knowing I’d betrayed myself. I didn’t make it, intercepted by red-gold blur that brought me to the ground. Hard. It was Cassie. I think. At least the clothes were hers. The head was that of a fox, black button nose, whiskers, long toothy snout, hair replaced by orangey-gold fur. She had to have torn out the seat of her pants because she’d sprouted tails, five of them, twitching with annoyance. She’d used her aura to make the ground solid, blocking my escape that way.
As I stood staring, she raised a clawed paw as if to strike.
I held my right elbow, keeping the arm motionless, pressed against my body, and scrunched my face as if in pain. I made my voice a ragged whisper, “My arm … I think you broke it.” I figured this trick would work on Cassie—just once; but once was all I needed.
Needing tears, I sank to one knee, remembering the day Snowball my cat had followed me from the house, and gotten into traffic. He’d died. I’d cried for days. Dad hadn’t let me bury him in the yard, making me leave him for animal control to come out and dispose of the poor, battered body. I must have looked convincing because Cassie’s face morphed back to human, creased with concern. She reached for me, leaning forward and down.
I surged up with my legs, drawing on the power of my back muscles to swing my elbow in a short, vicious uppercut. It caught her chin. She fell backward, making no effort to soften her landing. She lay there, rubbery limbed, sprawled inelegantly in a look that was so not her. I’d knocked her out. I’d never knocked anyone out. Ever. It didn’t feel good. Unless she’d lied, this was the woman who’d given me life, who hid me in the human world to protect me from some unknown danger, who’d come back into my life as my powers drew dangerous attention. This was the woman who’d almost killed Serena because she’d messed with me.
I rubbed away the tears in my eyes. “Sorry, Cassie, I’ve got to do this. Too many people have died for me already. I’ve got to stop it.”
Intangible in the ghost world, I passed military types sweeping by, then those on the perimeter keeping the camp secure. The twenty-foot drop down the bluff to the dry and flinty riverbed proved effortless. Ponytail and muffler wagging behind me, I landed, pouring aura into the stone to keep from sinking. Off to my left, several helicopters loitered, pilot seats empty, protected by guards.
I bounded across the flat-rock and up a stony bank to a curved section of highway. The morning sun gave me an eastern bearing. Using that reference, I found south, taking that end of the highway. I continued to jump, taking advantage of the lower gravity as long as possible. I passed the outside of the Spirit Camp gate and the area where I’d fought the shadow beast. There was broken glass from Shaun’s Jag, but no sign of the damaged vehicle. Wanting a ride, I kept to the right of the road, looking back every so often to see approaching vehicles.
It wasn’t long before a moss green VW Bug reached me. The car was silent, its engine sound on the other side of the veil. I jumped as it passed. I wasn’t quick enough. Instead of solidifying against the upholstery, becoming a phantom hitchhiker, I slid into the trunk, through the motor, and dropped out onto the street. I picked myself up. Obviously, I should have practiced this more often.
I continued on. My jumps diminished and soon I was using an easy lope. At this rate, my weakening aura would force me to cross over within the hour. I needed a ride. I looked behind me, and saw a military convoy heading my way. I scrambled off the road and into hiding. If Cassie were with them, she’d be able to see me, and I didn’t want to fight her again, or ever. The vehicles rushed by. I waited until the last one went out of sight and returned to the shoulder of the highway.
A station wagon came into view. The driver was a middle-aged man with a frizzy, white-guy afro and a day’s growth of beard on his face.
Tingling, I crossed over. The increased weight made my feet ache. The flames vanished from my body. Color returned, adding a deep, ink blue color to the vehicle. I tugged down my muffler, so I wouldn’t look like some masked robber, and smiled as I waved him down.
He slowed to a stop. His eyes were deep set, tired. Maybe he’d been on the road longer than was safe. Well, couldn’t be helped. At least he didn’t look like an axe murderer. Though, I could be wrong. I’d never seen one—that I knew of.
The wind shifted and I suddenly smelled something pungent. What is that? Mouse scat?
Shrugging, I opened the front passenger door and stuck my head in. The smell intensified, watering my eyes, but I needed a ride and couldn’t be picky. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but can you give me a ride to the closest town?”
He smiled. “Sure, climb in.”
I did, slamming the door behind me. I buckled up, breathing shallowly.
“We can use the company,” he said.
“We?” I hoped he didn’t mean the voices in his head.
A black, three inch mouse came from the back and climbed up his shoulder.
“This is Mickey. Momma, Buck, and Henry are probably under the seats. Don’t worry. They’ll like you, I’m sure”
I shuddered. Great, of all the people out there, I catch a ride with the Mouse Whisperer. I could only hope he was right about his … friends.
As we surged away, I felt a scampering across my sneakers and looked down. Buck, or maybe Henry, was squatting on my toe, regarding me with beady-eyed curiosity. Or maybe hunger.
Odd, that they were fearless of me. Didn’t foxes eat rats in the wintertime when they couldn’t get much else? Not that I was tempted.
“Have you fed them breakfast?” I asked.
“Not yet. Gotta buy some lettuce at the next stop.”
The mouse clawed up my jeans to my knee. He paused there, inspecting me closely. Another mouse, this one white, popped its head out of a hole in the dashboard. Whitey scrambled from the hole and slunk to my side window, looking for a way over to me. Another mouse scampered across my foot. I watched them carefully, reciting a modified version of the Lord’s Prayer in my head: The Lord is my Shepherd. I shall not be eaten alive by mice…
The driver gestured toward the dashboard hole. “I hate it when they get in there. They chew on wiring sometimes. That’s how I lost my left turn signal.”
Let’s hope they’re not fond of brake lines.
TWENTY-THREE
One at a time, the mice crawled up my stomach and chest. I shooed them over my shoulder to the folded-down passenger seat behind me. They didn’t stay there long. Playing traffic cop to the little critters kept me distracted as the miles passed. The driver turned out to be Scott, either Great Scott or Scotty to his friends. Evidently, tolerance for mice put me in that category. I made conversation, mostly answering Scott’s questions as vaguely as possible.
I knew I’d have to bail sooner or later. The guys back at Spirit Camp would have put out a cover story so any cop seeing me would report my presence to them. Since I could escape conventional custody rather easily, I doubted they’d tell police to make an arrest. Still, I kept an eye out for roadblocks.
We reached a crossroads where fast food emporiums kept company with gas stations, one with a carwash. We pulled into a strip mall containing a tattoo parlor, a Goodwill Donation Center, and a cigarette shop. Scotty parked in front of the smoke shop, next to a sizzlin’ hot Mustang, black with an electric blue scorpion emblazoned on the hood. It was the kind of car that ought to belong to an urban legend or action hero.
“Hope you don’t mind,” Scotty said, “but I’m out of tobacco.”
“Coming in?” he asked.
“Sure.” Anything to get a break from inquisitive mice and the stench of the car.
I unbuckled and slid out quickly, taking pains not to let the rodents out with me. I closed my door and stood a moment, stretching my spine, before heading for the glass double doors. I couldn’t help noticing that—standing up—Scotty was beyond tall, scarecrow thin, but a giant none-the-less. He slouched as he walked in his flip-flops, wearing shorts—which I thought totally crazy in this weather—and just a hoodie, sleeves rolled up his forearms. The guy had to have antifreeze in his veins.
My gaze slid across the display window that advertised various cartons and single packs. There was also a bitchin’ sword from some movie, Ultraviolet I think, or was it Final Fantasy? I could have chased down the memory, but I wasn’t really that interested.
Scotty opened the jingling door for me, letting me go in first. The store contained things I never imagined would be in this kind of place. There were tee shirts with Bob Marley’s face on them, superimposed over a Jamaican flag or a giant pot leaf. Fancy daggers lay under glass, one with a hilt resembling a cobra. I saw dragon figurines, water fountains, a rack of bumper stickers, and Marilyn Monroe mementoes next to those of Elvis. My mom had all their movies on VHS.
I couldn’t understand this wallowing in the Dark Ages. It’s the new millennium, for cryin’ out loud! People should watch anime.
Scotty strolled up to me. “Never been in one of these places before? Have a look around.”
I took a few more steps, scanning the room. My glance slid over a guy dressed in black, with steel-toed boots, his back to me. There were stacks of metal-framed pictures leaning against a wall to my left. One had various breeds of dogs playing poker. My mind flashed to the zombie dogs I’d recently battled, and a shiver licked down my spine. I hurriedly diverted my eyes. Other pictures depicted waif-like vixens flaunting boobs, butts, tattoos, and numerous piercings. Sluts, obviously. A few of the women posed dramatically, baring vampire fangs and swords.
Shadow Dancer (Kitsune series) Page 16
