She seized my hand, and my body swayed with a palpable sensory memory: how I’d shivered at the lure of the bard’s voice and, when he chose to unleash it, the warmth of his smile. I shivered again now, for in that alarming instant, her face seemed to shift in my sight. Brown eyes became Elessir’s midnight blue, and skin that was normally a light golden-brown turned white as moonlight. The ghostly scent of him rose up in my awareness, mingling with the scent of Jude’s actual body, and even her touch felt like him. As I faltered, she pulled me closer, close enough to murmur delicately into my ear, “Let me in, Kennie. I could feast on you for months, and you could save your precious Judith’s life, and even my darling Elessir’s. You care about them both, don’t you?”
I paused, not wanting to admit any such thing—and the alokhiu took her chance. Her arms snaked around me while her breath tickled against my cheek, and one of her hands planted itself in my hair. My necklace was hot against my chest, but then again, the rest of me was suddenly wreathed in numbing, drugging cold.
“Aren’t your arms heavy?” she whispered. “I can support them for you. Let me.”
She was right. As if they’d turned to chains of ice, my arms suddenly dragged from my shoulders, and I could move them only in one direction: around her waist, to let her press up tight against me.
“Your heart flutters like a hummingbird, pretty Seelie girl. It’s because you’re tired. Let me be your heartbeat. Let me be your breath.”
Her lips traced a path from my ear to my jaw, and wherever she touched, my skin flushed with heat that began to override my Warded necklace without touching the cold settling into my thoughts. Thinking… that was hard. Even the thought of taking another step, never mind the actual motion, filled me with exhaustion. Surely it would be easier to let her do it for me?
No!
In a last-ditch effort I grabbed hold of my magic, driving most of it down through the floor beneath my feet to seek the earth—and the rest of it into my necklace, to fortify the Ward. It worked, just enough to let me reach the distant cresting wave of Christopher’s nearby power and to push Jude’s overcrowded body back from me, the old-fashioned way. With my fists.
Whatever the bone walker might have expected out of me, two pops to her solar plexus wasn’t it. She staggered back from me, panting, and nearly toppled over the chair she’d been sitting in before. The commotion was a problem, but I couldn’t take the time yet to see if anybody around us had noticed. Instead I hurled my power out to link up with Christopher’s, and the moment I did, I felt a rush of relief that he was on his way.
Problem was, Jude’s uninvited guest sensed him coming too.
Her head snapped up. The echo of Elessir was gone now from her face, but its expression still wasn’t Jude. It was pure, unmitigated fury. “Bellevue is not a Warded city,” she hissed.
“Guess again,” I snapped back.
She hadn’t ever really fallen, yet another sign that Sidhe reflexes were in charge of my friend’s mortal body, and now she crouched, catlike, as if preparing to spring past me. Without warning, a different signature of power rippled somewhere not far away—and her feral smile unfurled again.
“Oh, that’ll do nicely,” she purred.
And promptly vanished.
Chapter Twelve
Though he himself was kitsune, Jake Tanaka had so far encountered very few of the Sidhe of either Court. Fey of all kinds abounded in San Francisco where he’d grown up, and a good many were in Seattle now. But both cities were actively Warded, and in Jake’s experience to date, neither the Seelie nor the Unseelie cared to congregate for long where human magic was rife. And while San Francisco had its share of unaffiliated Sidhe, San Francisco didn’t have Millicent Merriweather as its Warder. The only Sidhe in Seattle, to the best of his knowledge, was Kendis herself.
He did not, therefore, have much knowledge to draw on for how to handle Melisanda.
Some conclusions, though, he could readily draw. She was of a Seelie House; thus, like his own myobu kin, she presumably operated by the Seelie Court credos of order and honor. That she’d come back to Seattle to atone for her previous actions argued for that, and thus far, fighting as she’d done in defense of Kendis and Christopher, she seemed to be in earnest. For the sake of that, and for the sake of helping Kendis, he was willing to see where treating her as a comrade might lead.
At this particular point in time, it led to Kobe Terrace Park.
He didn’t have the Warders’ direct attunement with the city; he couldn’t simply reach out with his magical senses and find every living soul within Seattle’s borders. But there was much he could learn simply by respectful requests to the kami. They were shyer in an American city than they would have been in Japan. In fact, Millicent and Christopher had no idea of their existence—though Kendis, Jake thought, was beginning to suspect. Someday, perhaps, he’d tell her what the earth and air and water of the city might say to her if she was able to listen.
For now, though, he had to find the nogitsune who’d fought with her. Had he been acting on his own, he might have opted to head south to the International District on foot, four of them rather than two. Carson took great care to stay fit, though at the end of the day he was still a human male in his late forties, and in kitsune shape Jake could outrun his partner with no effort at all. His senses, both physical and magical, were sharper in that other shape as well. But Carson, who’d already gone with him to Faerie itself, would never have forgiven him if he’d tried to leave him out of their investigations now.
And so in the name of speed and of keeping both their eyes on Melisanda, they took Jake’s Mini south through the heart of the city. Or the two of them did anyway; the Seelie opted for the sleek, streamlined motorcycle that seemed to be her chosen means of transport. Jake had seen his share of motorcycles in his life and had even ridden one or two. The bike Melisanda rode didn’t look unusually powerful, yet once she was astride it she wove through Seattle’s streets with speed and grace that would have dizzied him if he’d let himself think about it. Instead, he focused on keeping up with her. Or at least, as best he could without breaking any traffic laws.
She was waiting for them when he finally parked a few blocks away from the park. Behind her, the motorcycle seemed strangely delicate, oddly fragile. It didn’t surprise Jake in the least to catch no scent whatsoever of gasoline wafting off the thing when he and Carson got out of the car. Anyone else might have mistaken the faint lingering hum in the air for electricity, or at least electricity’s passing. But no, it was magic, just enough to shimmer across his awareness even in human form.
He knew better than to ask Melisanda about it. If he’d learned anything of the Sidhe, it was that they closely guarded their secrets.
Carson knew it just as well, and as the two of them joined the warrior, he opted for another opening tactic entirely. “Nice handling there,” he said with his best deadpan stare. “Pulled that off like someone we’ll assume knows that if this goes pear-shaped in any way, she’ll be in a world of hurt.”
“I believe Millicent made that perfectly clear,” Jake chimed in, stepping just ahead of his partner, carefully avoiding any conscious schooling of his own face and frame. “Our visitor’s made her intentions plain. No need to be uncivil.”
The Sidhe flashed a glance between them, just enough curl to her mouth to hint that she recognized a good-cop, bad-cop routine when she saw it. But she didn’t bother to dignify Carson’s challenge with a response and instead coolly inquired, “Mr. Tanaka, I trust you know where we’re going?”
Rather than answer her, Jake paused and drew in a long, questing breath, for his hackles were up. Magically speaking, not literally, since he hadn’t shifted forms—but even in his human shape he sensed power resounding from somewhere very close by. The earth of the city didn’t speak to him like it did to the Warders. But earth and water alike were special to him, for reasons he never shared with anyone but Carson. It was no one’s business but his partner’s, after all,
what Shinto beliefs he held. Or what ties to the kami Inari.
And those ties were enough for him to feel the echoes of all three nogitsune who’d been on the trail. Melisanda, not to mention Kendis and Christopher, had reported what had happened; now, though, the truth of it hissed warnings across his senses. The kami should have spoken to him, even among concrete and brick and steel, but they were strangely silent. In the sudden absence of their voices, the proximity of others of his kind rang all the louder. Christopher had banished one of the younger nogitsune beyond the Wards. The second was perhaps younger than Kendis, for the song of his power was soft enough to be safely ignored. But the third’s was a ripple that he sensed even from a distance, ephemeral as the northern lights, yet bright and clear.
Oh, she was a three-tail, all right.
His consternation must have shown on his face, for Carson was suddenly close in at his side, taking him by the shoulder, studying him hard. “What is it?”
“The nogitsune. I can feel them.” Jake met his partner’s eyes, and the starkness of his own words filled him with disquiet. “Especially their leader. Carson, I can’t take her. I have only one tail. She has three.” Then he glanced at Melisanda. “I don’t know where that puts her by Sidhe standards. When it comes to Sidhe mages, I only know Kendis.”
The Seelie frowned. “Miss Thompson and Warder MacSimidh were hard-pressed to contest her. I’m no mage… but perhaps she might have rivaled Lord Malandor, while he lived.” Her mouth curled, and she added reluctantly, “Or a’Natharion.”
“Can you track her?” Carson said.
“I can try.” Jake beckoned for the others to follow him. He didn’t dare shift form, not in broad daylight on open city streets—and with the kami all at once grown silent he didn’t dare let his partner out of his sight. “Come on.”
* * *
Like the kami, Kobe Terrace Park was strangely subdued.
Jake saw no one else as he made his way into the place, Carson and Melisanda keeping careful pace with him on either side. That lack strained his already taut nerves, for there should have been others making free use of the park even in October, even given the vagaries of Seattle weather in the autumn and winter. There should have been children playing while bundled into their windbreakers, families carving pumpkins for Halloween, or people of all ages walking their dogs. He could even smell that there’d been people in the park not an hour before; traces of their scents were all over the walkways and benches and picnic tables.
That those scents all spoke of recent flight disturbed him. But when he realized he could find no trace of kitsune scent no matter how far they walked into the place, Jake began to worry.
He was just about to advise the others to turn back when the ambush caught them.
A shimmer in the air—the dropping of concealing magic—was Jake’s only warning before the nogitsune took them from both sides of one of the park trails. The young one-tailed tackled Carson, while the three-tailed female barreled into Melisanda with such brutal swiftness that not even Sidhe reflexes had time to compensate.
Before Jake had time to change and engage in battle, the three-tailed female growled to him, “I advise you to stay where you are, servant of Inari, if you wish your companions to stay in one piece.”
Even in her four-footed form she was speaking Japanese, and that left him at a profound disadvantage. If he wanted to maintain his own ability to talk, he would have to stay in human form. “We come in peace,” Jake said in the same language, as earnestly as he could, even as he shot a frantic glance at Carson. The male nogitsune had him pinned, and Carson was moving feebly beneath his front paws, unable to shove him off. “We have come to talk. Nothing more.”
The female had Melisanda backed up against the low stone wall along one side of the trail. She hadn’t pinned the Sidhe the same way the other had pinned Carson, but her muzzle was scant inches from Melisanda’s sword hand, and the warrior watched her, completely still. “This one,” the nogitsune snarled, “fought us with steel when the elfling and the Warder interrupted our hunt.”
“You were attacking the Heir of my—”
“Melisanda, please.” Her name didn’t settle well on Jake’s tongue, or maybe that was just his worry for Carson talking. He didn’t bother to switch back to English, since the Seelie had spoken in Japanese as well. To the three-tail, he went on, “I promise you, honored one, that we will not fight you. Will you let me attend to my spouse?”
The one-tailed male pinning Carson didn’t budge, save for a quick sidelong glance to the female—and she, in turn, swiveled her head around to stare balefully in Jake’s direction. “I remember you,” she said. “You are Tanaka-san, of the Puget Sound myobu.”
“Yes,” Jake agreed. “May I know who I address, honored one?”
Without warning she whirled away from Melisanda, and in two quick, shimmering strides, she was a woman. Silver streaked her black hair, marking her as likely older than he or Carson, and most likely not as old as Millicent. He’d already heard the fury brimming in her voice. Now, though, he could see her displeasure clearly on her human features.
“I am Makiko Asakura of the nogitsune of Yokohama,” she said. “I remember your essence, scent and face from when our kind met in the halls of Faerie. Her people”—Her hand snapped backwards to Melisanda, before coming forward again to point to him—“and you, servant of Inari, are allied with the Warders who hold this city. You and your human mate spoke for the myobu in the Seelie halls.”
“That is true. How may I help you, Asakura-sama?” That he had to use the honorific grated, but Jake was careful to keep that out of his voice. Makiko Asakura’s language was formal, even if her anger fell just short of rudeness—even on top of the bodily insult her companion had just dealt Carson. He had no option but to meet and match her speech, including showing his respect to one of greater power.
“You may speak for me to the Warders, and to the elfling mage who fought me. They must meet with me and hear my voice, for they do not know the danger before them.”
“Asakura-sama, you must forgive my skepticism, but the elfling shares a house with me and my spouse. Her welfare is important to us. We are not convinced that you do not mean her harm.”
“Then you will meet with me and take my words to her! And to the Warders!”
A hint of a growl edged into the woman’s voice, and Jake swallowed hard, recognizing the shift in her tone for what it was: a warning. Nonetheless he stood a little taller. Carson had a hand clapped to his bleeding brow, but was watching him from under the stoic creature weighing down his chest—and Carson understood Japanese every bit as well as he did. Melisanda’s face was far less readable than his partner’s, yet Jake recognized a hunter’s alertness in her bearing. In his fox shape, he’d have looked the same.
Before the two of them, he would not let himself be anything but strong.
“With respect, Asakura-sama,” he said quietly, “your power is greater than mine, but you do not command me. And until you let me tend my partner, I cannot believe you do not mean us harm. In fact, here and now, you attacked us first.”
Just behind the nogitsune woman, Melisanda rose soundlessly to her feet. Her hand was on her sword, though she didn’t draw, not yet. And she froze nonetheless the instant the other nogitsune began to growl.
Makiko Asakura quirked her head back towards the warrior, anger sparking in her golden eyes. It was to Jake, however, that she spoke. “I am not heartless. You may attend to your mate if the Seelie takes word of me back to the Warders and tells them I wish to meet them.”
Carson closed his eyes where he lay, leaving Jake to stand alone beneath the implacable gazes of the nogitsune—but no, not entirely alone. Melisanda’s eyes met his with considering interest, the closest thing he’d ever seen to actual concern on a full-blooded Seelie’s face. “I would prefer not to abandon Tanaka-san and his spouse,” she said, in perfectly accented Japanese. “The Warders and the Heir of my House will be most distresse
d that Mr. Saunders has come to harm.”
“That’ll make four of us,” Carson put in, in English. “Jake, make her go. The faster she goes, the faster we can get me off this damn ground.”
His voice was a breathy whisper, and at the sound of it, Jake flashed him another anxious stare. He’s bleeding. For a moment that was all he could think. All his EMT training collided with his love and fright, and it was all he could do to keep from throwing himself to his partner’s side, the two nogitsune be damned.
Then, to his surprise, Makiko Asakura abruptly said, “We meant only to intercept you, not to draw blood. Hiroshi, let the spouse of Tanaka-san up.”
At her order, the gray nogitsune male sprang backwards from Carson’s chest, changing in mid-motion into a wiry young man so like the woman in face and frame that he could be nothing but her son. He wasn’t as rigid of composure as his mother. The urgency of attack fled out of his features, leaving behind distinct chagrin, and Jake heard him offer Carson rueful apologies.
All his attention, though, remained with the woman. Anger had still roughened her last words, and her proud stance hadn’t altered, although something of the harshness was gone from her face. That was, Jake suspected, all the sign he was going to get that he’d just successfully chastened her—and what his diplomacy hadn’t accomplished, the sight of his bloodied partner had.
That small sign, though, was enough.
“Thank you, Asakura-sama,” he said, happy now to bow and to mean it. To the watchful Melisanda, he requested, slipping back into English, “Please do as she’s requested and go back to Kendis’ house. Tell her and Millicent and Christopher what’s happened and that the nogitsune wish to speak with them.”
Bone Walker Page 12
