Shadow Dancer (Kitsune series)

by Morgan Blayde

  I remember a stolen kiss. I wondered if Shaun thought I was tasty.

  This is driving me crazy.

  Golden eyes opened in the back shadows of my mind. Taliesina was back. You can’t be driven crazy, she said, that requires you’re sane in the first place.

  “Hey, I’m sane!”

  She sent me the mental image of a laughing fox. Then why are you talking to a voice in your head?

  “Bite me! Hey!” Though I couldn’t hear them, I felt my words through the bones of my face. I smiled. Ah-ha! It was weak stimulus but maybe enough to hang my sanity upon. “Tally, baby?”

  Golden eyes blinked at my sudden mood swing. Yes?

  “You know what we need here? Some mood music. How about Evanescence, Going Under, or maybe some Meatloaf? I’m feeling rather epic.”

  Words and music roared in my head, cranked to numbing levels. I think I screamed, but wasn’t sure. My inner fox pranced across my mental landscape, loping, leaping, chasing her tails, a distant flash of orange behind a wall of black oak, a shadow zipping through leaves at the edge of sight, then airborne—right up in my face—snapping playfully at my nose.

  I let the music take me, pouring like a cold clean rain through my soul. Taliesina delved into my mental files, yapping along to song after song. I sang with her, relishing that faint tickle of vibration in my head that said I was real. Valhalla, Nirvana, or a padded cell could all ‘come again some other day.’ My mouth grew painfully dry, my lips gummy, and my voice began to falter.

  Some of the songs went by in a blur, dodging my perception, or blotted out by the fuzzy charcoal shadows. There were thousands, whispering in motion, slithering through crushing darkness, leaving curls of skin scraped away in their passage. One voice rose among the many shades, calling me home. But I didn’t have a home anymore. Mom and Dad were on the verge of divorce. My sister hated me for crashing into the family, stealing the attention that should have been hers. Never enough love to go around. And how dare Taliesina kiss Shaun with my lips! She should go find some nice young fox and leave Shaun to me.

  Wait, is that elevator music? No, we are not doing elevator music! Even elevators don’t like elevator music.

  Damn, I lost the vibration.

  Where did it go? I had it here a minute ago. Or was that last century? I tried to check my pockets but they were missing too. Double damn it! Reality’s out to get me. Oh, yeah, gotta sing along. Only way…

  The music died in the middle of Don McClain’s American Pie. Taliesina’s golden eyes glared at me. What are you doing? If you’re not having fun, don’t sing. That’s a lie to yourself. Kitsune must never lie.

  Talie…” I felt like dandelion fluff riding an unrelenting wind. “Help me. I’m blowing away.”

  Taliesina’s glower softened. This really bothers you?

  * * *

  From a thousand miles away, a faint vibration called me from the edge of madness. Hands grabbed me, pulling, lifting. My legs dragged across a metal lip, and dumped onto a hard surface. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. The helmet came away, and light knifed into my eyes. I squeeze them shut, mewling an animal sound.

  Someone moved over me, prying open an eyelid. A creaky voice needling my brain. “Grace, can you hear me? Grace—”

  “Give it up, Doc,” a guard said. “She’s crashed and burned, ready for the rubber room. You left her in too long. Eighteen frickin’ hours…! Blaire’s gonna have a heifer.”

  A new voice intruded, “Am I?” Heels clicked on the deck, coming closer. “Doctor, you were ordered to pull her out before things went this far. Why is she catatonic?”

  My eyes were sensitive to the light, but adjusting, staring into infinity where I’d left various parts of me. So hard to think…

  The old woman said. “Her responses, I’ve never seen anything like this.” Excitement spiked her voice, as her words crowded together, “She has multiple brainwaves on frequencies that aren’t even human. Her theta pattern converts into a new formation that doesn’t even have a name. What we stand to learn here—”

  There was a sound, flesh striking flesh, and someone collapsed with a startled gasp.

  Blair’s voice trembled with rage, “Her brain’s veggie dip. I told you not to break her … completely.”

  I managed a dry, hacking laugh, my throat raw. “You … won’t beat me. Never…!” Too late, it occurred to me that I could have feigned catatonia a bit longer and learned some things.

  Lying beside me, the doctor sat up, gasping. “You can answer?”

  Well, duh! Swallowing helped my throat just a little. “Anyone got a … bottled water?”

  “Plenty of water in the tank,” the guard said.

  I told her where she could stick the tank, though it wasn’t anatomically possible.

  The guard just laughed. “Yeah, she’s all right, feisty as ever.”

  Blaire knelt and pulled me into a sitting posture, peering into my face from inches away. “Good. I want you able to appreciate the hell I have in store for you—before I allow you to finally die.”

  “Hell is probably where your daughter went, so I certainly don’t want to go there.”

  Her eyes flared. Her jaw muscles knotted as her lips pressed into a thin line. Her hands were around my throat, choking, bruising.

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t lift a hand to pry her off my windpipe. My helplessness enraged me, as my vision turned to gray mist where little points of light danced like will-of-the-wisps. It occurred to me that goading her to violence had not been a particularly smart thing to do.

  She wrenched her hands away, letting me fall back to the deck. Her voice was as ragged as I felt, “No, you have a purpose to serve. I won’t be tricked into killing you early.” She stood.

  I lay there shivering, coughing with the first breath I managed to draw, determined to get the last word, “Bitch!”

  “Yes, I am.” Her molten stare shifted to the guard. “Pick this thing up and take her to the white room.”

  The guard had been fingering the hilt of her field knife, but snapped to attention as the order was given. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Blaire briskly strode away, her heels clicking furiously on the stairs.

  Doc and Knife Lady pulled me to my feet, supporting me so I wouldn’t fall. Between them, they managed me down the stairs to the lower, concrete floor. My head hung. I couldn’t manage any interest in where I was going. Survive. Drew will come. She’ll bring the others. I just have to hold on.

  We reached an opening elevator with three additional guards inside. They hurried to lend support as Doc pulled back. Turned to face her, I lifted my head, unwilling to let her think I’d been cowed.

  She shook her head sadly. “What a waste destroying you will be. We could have learned so much. So much…”

  “I’m kinda against the idea myself,” I rasped.

  The doors closed, and the cage pressed up against my feet as we ascended. The elevator hummed happily with all of us in its belly, on our way to the white room.

  “Uh, can we make a stop at a bathroom? I really need to pee.”

  “You went in the tank,” a guard said.

  “Really? Well I need to go again.”

  No one answered. “Seriously, guys, dam’s about to burst.”

  The door dinged open. I had a guard on each arm. The other two scooped up my legs. They carried me horizontally, feet first, into a hallway with Gawd-awful sage and champagne wallpaper. Painted an ugly taupe, closed doors lined the passage. The ceiling matched the doors. Unseen, the carpet was a total mystery; probably a blessing.

  They stopped and put my feet down. We faced a door no different from the others. Its handle was polished brass with an antique look. A guard reached for the handle.

  “The white room?” I asked.

  “Restroom. Make it quick. We go off duty soon.” The guard opened the door and I was set inside the door, left leaning on a wall. “Need help?”

  I shook my head no.

  The do
or closed. I slid past it to the next corner where a sink waited. I did need to go. Only fatigue kept me from dancing from foot to foot, but my ravaged throat needed relief too. I turned on the faucet. Cold water gushed on my fingers. Forearms braced on the sink, I lowered my head, and lifted water to my cracked lips. It took several palmfuls to slack my thirst. With more water in me, my bladder demanded instant gratification.

  Hold on please, just a little longer, I promise.

  I slid along another wall to the toilet. The air had a slight chill and a curdled, oppressive feel. My demon watchdog was present. I sat and leaned forward, preserving my modesty from the voyeur by covering with my forearms. Huddled this way, I reached into the crotch of the suit and pulled it to the side. Since he occupied a side dimension that only offered visuals, I didn’t get embarrassed by the sound of tinkling.

  I really hate demons.

  The sensor-studded getup added to my mortification. I knew I looked ridiculous in it. I wonder if I can get a wardrobe change before the next ring of hell swallows me whole.

  I finished up, straightened my clothing, and stood without leaning on anything. I tore at the little sensor pods on me, imagining Doc at her control station, studying the readings. Most of the pernicious things stayed on, but a few came off in my hands. I added these to the toilet bowl and flushed. I take my victories wherever I find them.

  I washed my hands and dried on a paper towel, feeling a lot better. There are advantages I supposed to being kitsune, or did this resiliency come from my father’s blood? One day I’ll find out.

  I leaned against the frame and opened the door, hiding my minimal recovery. The more helpless I seemed, the more likely the guards would grow careless.

  They took me a few more doors down the hall. Inside lay an empty room. The walls were burgundy-rose, and dark green carpeting covered the floor, except for a six-by-six space dead center where restraints were attached to blond wood flooring. There were two windows, jeweled with raindrops that hit and slithered down the pane. In moments, they had me laying down, buckled into the restraints—there were a lot of them, padded for comfort, almost like some kinky sex game was about to start.

  The women surrounded me, staring down, staying on the carpet. Most of them smiled in anticipation. One of them produced a black remote control.

  “This room is so not white,” I said.

  The woman with the remote shrugged. “I can fix that.”

  A scream escaped me as my patch of floor flipped on a hidden hinge. I was back in the basement again, suspended from a high ceiling in a room I hadn’t seen before. The brick walls were painted bone white, as was the floor. Directly under me, spotlights unleashed a blinding glare.

  Sonnuva bitch! I clamped my eyes shut, seeing red through my lids, turning my head to the side.

  Blaire’s voice thundered from hidden speakers, “From no stimulus to an abundance, with more on the way.”

  More?

  Blaire laughed, a knife edged sound. “Enjoy…”

  Cranked to a deafening level, music pounded me. A guy whined about not getting respect from his “bitches.”

  Rap music. Oh my God! Hurry, Drew … please … hurry!

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Despite the bass thumping I felt in my bones and the white light eating into my brain, I reached an exhausted stupor, hanging in my straps. The torturous music fell away like an outgoing tide. The light collapsed into darkness from my neglect. And it was all too good to be true. I don’t know how long they gave me to rest, but it wasn’t long enough; the light and sound returned—fiercer than ever due to the lull, snapping me awake, firing up my heart to a thudding crescendo.

  Sucks being me.

  Such breaks came at irregular intervals, playing havoc with my sleep cycle. Just when I believed my mind would crumble, the shadows in the back of my mind exploded engulfing my awareness, smothering it. Taliesina’s golden eyes were back, only huge, dwarfing me. Piercing the sudden silence that had reached out to engulf me, her thoughts rang in my head, I have you, Sister. This ends now.

  I’d been absorbed before—when Taliesina hi-jacked my body to kiss Shaun—only this time the darkness was denser, impenetrable, the ultimate isolation tank. She weathered the abuse so I didn’t have to, easily shielding me. “So, this is your true strength.”

  That’s all you have to say to me, Sistuh?

  “Thank you.”

  You’re welcome.

  * * *

  Finally, physical sensation filtered through the darkness, as the world flipped. My inner fox compressed to a singularity, retreating to the shadows of my mind while kicking me out. I found myself on the floor of the burgundy-rose room—not that I could properly see the colors. My eyes felt as though ground glass were being rubbed in. I saw nothing clearly; the women picking me up might have been the same four as before, or entirely different. One of them blindfolded me.

  “About time,” I groused. Laying there—a shuddering mess, unable to do anything—even my nose seemed to be on strike, stunned by all I’d endured. The demon might have abandoned his post, but I couldn’t risk crossing over to find out. On top of that, it felt like days since I’d eaten. My stomach rumbled, an embarrassing confirmation. Were they deliberately weakening me with hunger, or was this the cruelty of indifference? “Are you done with me now?”

  A guard answered, her tone dripping sympathy, “I’m afraid not. The mistress is out making funeral arrangements, but has left clear instructions on what comes next.”

  They picked me up, and I was on the move again.

  “Oh, by all means, if you’ve got a plan, that makes it totally all right.”

  No one spoke. I was carried between them like a jumbo bag of potatoes, ignored by those I heard passing us. I understood. Everyone was distancing themselves. You don’t talk to the dead. That makes it harder to torture them. The next ring of hell was coming on strong whether I liked it or not.

  The blindfold soothed my eyes, filtering the light around me. Somewhere, a CD of ocean sounds played, mixing whale song, the surge of waves through reefs, and the clack-clack of gulls together. Water burbled, putting moisture in the air. I smelled chemicals you’d usually find in a hair salon. They draped a heavy robe over my shoulders and pulled back, telling me to change out of the sensor-studded get-up their mad scientist had me in. I felt like the new ghost-whispering Barbie, complete with an end-of-the-world wardrobe. Pose her, change her clothes in public. She’s only plastic; she won’t mind. I did actually, but I was hoarding my strength for more decisive action.

  I kept the robe on, letting it shroud me as I shed the other garment. I moved slow, struggling at times, but managed as they left me to it. With the robe belted on, they returned to put me face down on a massage table. The robe was drawn down my back so kneading hands could bring me to ecstasy. They were careful of the wings, handling them delicately, like tissue paper likely to tear. I could have told them that they were a lot tougher than you might expect, but didn’t bother.

  After that, heated stones were laid at intervals along my spine. If Blaire were trying to earn my forgiveness—well, it was a start.

  Later, a body mask made of algae, seaweed, mud, and clay was applied. They went to wrap me up tightly with all that sticky stuff on my body and I freaked, flailing violently, my mind flashing to the cocoon where Ryan raped my throat with his prehensile tongue and I’d been slathered by bug-gunk I didn’t want to remember.

  Some of the women jerked off the wrap, calming me, bringing me back to the present. Others were shaking as badly as I did, a few crying at the distress they’d unknowingly inflicted. I was led to a shower where I rinsed off.

  Wearing a voluminous cotton robe and having exhausted what small strength I had, I staggered back to sprawl in my contour chair. The women attending me gingerly applied lotion, speaking in soothing tones as the background soundtrack changed to Celtic harp and violin with a penny whistle jauntily ambling along. Taliesina’s golden eyes cracked open in my mind’s e
ye as she sampled the sound. She huffed, yawned, and the eyes went away. She wasn’t interested. I yawned and closed my eyes, following her example, hoarding my strength.

  When I awoke, I found manicures and pedicures in progress, toes and fingers separated by little sponges. I reclined in a comfy chair, the blindfold gone; cucumber slices covered my eyes like coins for the Ferryman at the river Styx.

  “What color are you putting on?” I asked.

  “Midnight green. It’s the new black.”

  Terrific.

  After the nails were finished, the attendants were replaced by someone carrying something that smelled like salt and lemon oil. The mixture was rubbed in, followed by a shower and an application of body lotion. Wearing a white robe and sunglasses, I was left in an empty café area with an unattended kitchen. A table window gave me a view of autumn rose bushes, minus the roses.

  The restaurant wasn’t in operation, but a woman in her early twenties sat nearby. She plied me with concord grapes, cheese slices, melon balls, and tidbits of useless gossip about the other women: most of them housewives and closet witches. She didn’t hang much with the shook-trooper girls, a little too butch for her. Her name turned out to be Jamie, and she was a newcomer to the dark arts.

  “You’re risking jail time, not being with your families, maybe getting killed, just to be part of some Egyptian Girl Power Cult?” I peered into her eyes as if answers were inscribed there. “I just don’t get it.”

  “I know the killing is, like, bad, but we’ll bring everyone back when we perfect the whole raising-of-the-dead thing. Death will just have been a brief intermission. Anyway, it’s necessary.”

  “Necessary?” I spied a few miniature candy bars on the platter she was feeding me from, and snatched them up for later. I thought of Tukka, and shoved the memory away as my eyes went misty.

  “We’ll never have what we want unless we can kick over the game over and start with different rules. I have a BA—a liberal arts education with a concentration in romantic poetry. You know what I do for a living?”