A familiar voice boomed in the back of my head: Grace, take seat. Show start soon.
I turned and found Tukka filling the whole width of the aisle. He wore a red usher’s jacket with gold buttons and braid. His grin was enormous.
“Whose dream are we in, Tukka?”
He jerked his head to the side.
I glanced along the row of seats he’d indicated. Half way to the end, I saw a familiar face framed by a mane of straw-blond hair that had a faint greenish quality in the gloom. Madison. She had a shell-shocked expression, eyes fixed on stage.
If this is her dream, her mother’s playing here. Why is Maddy’s subconscious doing this to her?
I turned my attention back to the stage. The roadies were scurrying off like rats. The colored spots were strobing, fanning light streams went up and down to draw attention. Band members hustled out on stage from the wings. They were all guys, each taking position at their station, on their instrument. The drums started a rapid-fire beat. The synth player sent out a trill of notes like an icy, brittle wind. The bass player thudda-thumped a deep rhythm, felt as much as heard. Joining in last, a white-haired young guy in torn black leather pants and purple tee swung the neck of his electric guitar up into the air, shaking it with passion as his fingers danced, and a piercing riff slashed through the sonic hash.
A blue spotlight hit front, center stage, illuminating a solitary microphone stand. A moment later, a woman came out of nowhere, stepping into the light. Her short, bleached-white hair had an indigo Mohawk that matched her lipstick, nail polish, and the blue star painted around her left eye. She wore a tinfoil blue shirt and black jeans. Sandals flopped on her feet as she danced back and forth, and a silver bat fluttered on a silver chain.
She screamed to the audience, “Hello, children of the night! Are you ready to rock?”
I rolled my eyes.
Madison muffled a sob.
I looked at Tukka. “Why don’t you go ahead and eat this dream. This isn’t good for Maddy.”
Tukka shook his head in disagreement. Evil backs off when snarled at. You run, darkness chases.
Taliesina yapped confirmation.
“Maddy will be facing her darkness soon enough,” I said. “Cut the crap. This isn’t necessary.”
Dry run, Tukka said. Practice makes perfect. Besides, can’t break dream until we find dreamer.
I pointed at Madison. “She’s right there.”
“Not that easy,” Tukka said. “Real dreamer takes more active role.”
“If this isn’t Madison’s dream, then whose—”
Electra hunched forward, knees bent, a death-grip on the microphone lifted to her face. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on the song, and her amplified voice slammed out across the auditorium, spinning me around like a wave, with her warm, sultry promise of pleasures to come:
“I know you’ve been hurt before.
I know the scars run deep.
And love has never been
Something you could keep…”
I stared at her, speculation bubbling up from my brain. “This is her dream?”
The drums did a run, building up tension. Electra’s band put the pedal down, pouring out intensity, sweat dripping from their faces. The electric guitar guy danced backward while shooting off a rapid-fire riff that leaped octaves. The bass player’s head was bobbing for all it was worth. Electra’s voice hardened, soaring into forever.
“But you gotta pay the price no matter the cost.
You gotta take a chance or all is lost.
You gotta try again, or this is the end
of us both!”
Movement caught my attention. Someone left a seat up front to go to the edge of the stage. I only saw the girl’s back, her raven black hair, and the graceful glide of a predator, but I recognized the true dreamer by the very sharp stake in her hand. “Fran—what does she think she’s doing?”
She shimmied up onto the stage, pushed up off her belly, and headed for Electra.
A security guard rushed to intercept her.
Fran jumped into the air, ever-so-more graceful than in real life, and kicked the man across the face.
He fell heavily, stunned.
She settled softly on her feet like a dove touching down—a dark dove of justice with a mission. She turned toward Elektra once, stalking closer.
Another guard came at her.
A sandbag hanging from the rafters chose that moment to slip its rope and come crashing down on him. I said, “Somehow, I’d expected an Acme anvil.”
Tukka chuckled. Not Coyote’s dream, Grace. Roadrunner’s not around.
Elektra saw the assassin coming, but kept singing as if nothing else mattered.
“It’s now— or never— Now— or never!
Now— or never— Time to decide!”
Fran screamed above the pounding rock music. “It’s now, bitch. You’re going down!”
Quite a show, Tukka said.
Taliesina yapped agreement, her tails whumping the carpet energetically.
I huffed. “Aw, for the love of little green apples, how is this really solving anything? Killing Elektra in a dream isn’t going to make her go away in the real world.”
I suddenly realized that Madison was out of her seat, standing beside me. Her eyes were still fixed on her mother. “No, but it will make me feel better. You know the kind of crap I’ve had to put up with because of her?”
“But you’ve gone on with your life. You’re making something of yourself,” I said.
“Yeah, a slayer. See, she’s still shaping what I am. I’ll never be free until she’s dead.”
It occurred to me that this wasn’t the real Maddy, so the words were probably Fran’s—she was playing both roles. Everyone here was Fran’s invention with the exception of Taliesina, me, and Tukka who’d dragged us into this dream.
On stage, Fran reached Electra, leaving a dead drummer behind who’d gotten in her way. Strangely, the drums kept going, playing themselves. Fran raised her stake, about to plunge it down.
Elektra kept singing.
A horrified gasp went up from all the Goth girls in the seats. Someone screamed.
Taliesina yapped encouragement to Fran.
Tukka scarfed down a ten-pound bucket of buttery popcorn that magically appeared.
And a vampire in a tux, with slicked-back black hair and a too pale face, swooped down out of the rafters to catch Fran’s wrist. He pulled her into an intimate embrace, jaw unhinging, growing huge as if he intended to swallow her whole head. Maddy bolted from my side, running down the aisle. Fran had given her the opening she needed. Maddy vaulted from the aisle to the stage, landing like a ballerina, springing after the slightest touchdown, her hands circling her mother’s throat. Both went down in a tangle.
Maddy’s face was distorted with murderous intent.
The vampire buried fangs in Fran’s neck, making puncture holes. He pulled back, stuck in a couple straws into the wounds, and made her his own little juice bag. Draining her, he shoved her away, dead on her feet. She didn’t fall. Fran felt her neck and pulled a hand away that was crimson with blood.
The audience roared.
The spotlights pulsed, waving erratically.
And Fran’s face took on even more intensity. “I will not be a vampire.” She clutched her stake in two hands, driving it into her own heart, dying with a smile on her face.
Maddy broke off her attack, flinging herself past the vampire to cradle Fran.
“Not really how I expected things to go. If this is Fran’s dream, why didn’t things go her way?”
Tukka ignored me, turning and heading for the lobby. “Thirsty. Grace want something?”
“I’m good.”
Taliesina went with Tukka since he was buying.
I thought on my question, then answered it. “It ended badly because this is Fran’s dream. Girl’s not really cut out to be a master assassin. She’s barely functional as a slayer-in-training.”
/> Fran no longer sprawled on stage. In the way of dreams, she’d vanished to reappear next to me, standing, oblivious to the stake still protruding from her chest. She gave me a sorrowful stare. “That’s just mean.”
I shrugged. “Sorry. I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”
EIGHTEEN
“Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,
Was heaven ever at hand?
I’m Damned if you love me, and if you don’t,
will I ever understand?”
—Damned
Elektra Blue
I awoke with Fran’s hands pressing on my stomach and upper abdomen. She bounced me on the mattress. “C’mon, Grace, get a move on. Breakfast is almost ready.”
It was too hard to open my eyes, the bed too comfy. I waved her off. “G’wan, let me sleep.”
Madison’s voice came from across the room, where I heard the hallway door opening. “Sensei Shaun is here, Grace. Don’t you want to see him?”
Fran’s voice undulated, “Ooooo, Fenn will be pissed. He’ll want to go out and kill something.”
I don’t remember tossing off the bedding, leaping from the bed, and landing on my feet. Next thing I knew, I was dressing in some steel-blue sweats Madison had left out for me. “Wait up, guys, I’m coming!”
“Thought so,” Maddy said, “but you may want to run a brush through your hair first.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on my moccasin boots, wishing I had sneakers instead. Fran used this time to brush my hair, being careful around my ears. Groomed, I ran to the door, where Maddy handed me a cherry-flavored ChapStick. “You never know when you’ll need smooth, kissable lips,” she said.
I paused to apply the lip balm.
Maddy raked me with a stare, and sighed. “You look like we dressed you funny.”
“We did,” Fran said.
“No help for it,” Maddy said. “Just remember, enough attitude can pull off anything.”
I handed her back the ChapStick. “I’ll carve those words into my heart.” And then I was hustling out the door, down the hall, and taking the steps three at a time. I slowed at the bottom landing, sniffing the air for my prey, listening intently for Shaun’s voice. My inner fox was jumping for joy and yipping away.
His laugh came from the kitchen, mixed in with other voices. I headed that way, stalling out in the kitchen doorway to get the lay of the land. Both of my moms were there, Cassie setting the table, and my human mother manning the stove. The air was rich with the smell of eggs, bacon, and pancakes.
Cassie was pouring glasses of orange juice. She looked up. Seeing me, her face lit with a smile. “Good morning, Grace. Have a seat. The food’s coming right up.”
I was frozen in place, staring. Shaun was here all right, but he hadn’t come alone. He and Virgil were by the backdoor, talking with a strange woman. She was a honey blonde, Amazon tall, with a knock-out figure. She wore a pencil dress that left supermodel legs well exposed despite the autumn weather. The dress was black with a teal green belt and gold buckle. A black leather purse hung from one shoulder on a golden chain. Her hair was piled high, baring the nape of her neck, and she wore crimson lipstick that played off of a golden-brown tan that had probably come from a salon. Hanging around her neck was a silver pendant: a quartered circle with a couple feathers dangling at the sides. The thing had a Native American feel, but included a cross against vampires, and silver to ward off werewolves.
Quite the cosmopolitan little charm.
What wasn’t so charming was how close she was standing to Shaun. How her eyes devoured him. How she tittered at his comments like a total slut. And how the idiot—Shaun— was lapping it all up.
Really, Shaun, you can do much better. I’m here.
I stepped onto the battlefield, into the kitchen, and opened my mouth to say “Hi.”
Shaman Girl beat me to the punch, glancing my way, staring at my mismatched clothing with unsuppressed amusement. “Oh, my, look what the puma dragged in.”
I sent her a withering glare. She didn’t wither, more’s the pity, so I ignored her. “Good morning, Shaun. I didn’t know you were coming out.”
He turned toward me. “Hi, Grace. Somebody had to bring the eggs and stuff.”
I shot a not-so-veiled glare at the hot chick who was breathing all over him. “She’s the stuff?”
“Oh, let me introduce you,” he said.
If you must.
“This is Janet d’Arc. She’s our liaison with the North American Council of Mages, NACOM for short. They’ve decided to lend us a hand with ISIS.”
Janet said, “Such amateurs give real magic-users a bad name in the preternatural community. Plus, if they get outed to the media as terrorists, those such as myself will suffer greater scrutiny by the government.”
She was getting too much scrutiny as it was with Shaun’s eyes nearly glowing from her very female interest in him.
Bitch!
In my mind, Taliesina was stiff with rage, baring fangs, growling. I’d have done the same if it wasn’t so impolite—and if both my moms weren’t standing in the same room to call me down for it.
Life is so unfair.
The scent of steamy goodness grew stronger as Mom loaded the table with food. Cassie dragged me to a chair and all but tucked me in with a bib. Virgil hurried to a place across from me, black gloves and sunglasses in place. Shaun and Janet sat next to him. My moms took the ends of the table like two poles on a magnet. Fran and Madison materialized behind me. They placed a commiserating hand on my shoulder as they passed to take seats beside me.
Fran swept the table with a glance. “Where’s Fenn?”
Cassie’s lips twitched with an almost-smile. “He said something about going out and killing his own breakfast.”
I nodded sagely. “Fresher that way.”
Cassie continued, “But he wanted to borrow your laptop first to check his emails.”
There was a vague look to Fran’s face, not too much different from her usual expression. “My laptop? I’ve been looking for that.”
Maddy nodded. “You left it by the fireplace last night.”
“Grace,” my human mom gestured toward a platter of hot cakes, “try these. I mixed strawberries into the batter. Canned; you make do with what’s available.”
Madison latched onto them, served herself several, and passed the platter to Fran. Fran took a couple more. She squealed with delight. “You made bunny shapes.”
“Have some orange juice, Grace,” Cassie lifted her own glass of liquid sunshine. “I made it myself.”
“Probably safe anyway,” my other mom muttered.
Being human, she probably didn’t realize that kitsune such as Cassie and I heard every syllable as if she screamed them. I got very interested in the bunny pancakes, but snuck a glance at Cassie. She had on a brittle smile that looked like it might collapse at any time. There was fire in her stare. She gripped her butter knife as if contemplating surgery—without anesthesia.
I passed the platter on to Cassie. She didn’t look at them directly, shoving them onto Virgil. He took a pancake and passed the platter. A platter of eggs went round next and a plate of bacon. Shaun ate his bacon first, prepped his pancake with butter and maple syrup, and set his eggs right on top. I hadn’t seen that before but thought it rather cute ... until Janet did the same thing.
Copycat.
Distracting myself from her, I looked up at Virgil. “Hey, Virge, what’s the game plan?”
“I want to stay here and dangle you like bait until ISIS shows up,” he shot a glance toward both ends of the table, “but I got overruled.”
I glared at him, rolling my shoulders as an itch started along my shoulder blades. “Of course, doofus, the plan totally failed last time, remember?”
“Doofus, from the French deux fois - meaning ‘two times,’” Fran prattled in a lecturing voice. “A person who is a doofus can't get something right the first time.”
Virgil flung her a glower that shat
tered against her oblivious indifference.
Shaun hurriedly forced the conversation back on track, “And this isn’t the right battlefield. The fu dogs report movement in the forest, the mothmen getting themselves worked up over something.”
Probably Wocky screwing around with them. Demons never can just leave things alone.
Shaun continued, “We don’t want a war on two fronts.”
“I agree,” Janet said, “but that bait idea has merit.”
“Over your dead body,” my human mom muttered.
Cassie smiled at that. “Couldn’t have said it better.”
Janet shot a confused look up and down the table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”
I shook my head sadly. “No, you didn’t.”
Madison pushed her empty plate away. Having wasted no time, she drained her juice glass in a quick series of gulps, and set the glass down. “So,” she said, “if we’re not staying here, then where are we going?”
Yeah, we’re back to that.
Tukka thudded against the outside kitchen door, opened it somehow, and stuck his humongous head inside. His bright lavender gaze landed on me. His thoughts shot across my mind: Grace, we got trouble. Hurry.
Mom and Fran let out short-lived screeches of surprise.
Cassie simply turned her face toward the door.
Virgil and Shaun kept eating.
Rising into combat poses, Madison and Janet kicked their chairs back, looking like superheroes about to spring into action.
But Tukka was gone, and I doubted they’d heard his telepathic thought. He was kinda selective about whose minds he touched.
I stuffed my bacon into my mouth, wiped face and fingers on a paper napkin that lay beside my plate, and eased to my feet. Disaster always comes for me sooner or later. There was no reason to get all worked up about it. If it had been really bad, Tukka would have insisted I escape into the ghost realm with him and the other fu dogs.
“What’s up, Grace?” Virgil asked.
“Tukka says trouble’s coming our way. We should probably get ready to bail, just in case.”
Destiny's Child (The Kitsune Series) Page 13
