Fugue Macabre: Bone Dance

by C. J. Parker

  “Protection. I told you that.” She gave him a withering stare.

  “My protection or yours?”

  She moved so quickly Kangee shrank from her approach. The rejection and pain in her eyes, made him realize the hurt he’d inflicted with his question, and it tore at his resolve, but he refused to back down. “I won’t hide the truth from Bobbie any longer. I have to tell her before you perform the final mating rights.”

  She nodded slowly. “What kind of life do you think you would have had if they knew you were my son, Kangee? They look on me as some kind of mystic or witch. They would have feared you. Some would have hated you.”

  “Not Bobbie. She was all that ever mattered.” He lowered his head into his hands. “Besides, most hated me anyway. My parentage was a mystery. You brought me here as an infant, refusing to say who I belonged to, only saying I was an orphan who needed a family. I was seventeen before you told me you were my mother, but you never explained why we had to hide.”

  And never showed affection, never drew me into your arms, never told me¾

  He had to stop this train of thought. It did no good to dwell on it.

  “We need fish for the conformation party tonight. I hear there are trout en masse along Spell Weaver’s Mangrove. It’s not your place to supply the meat offering, but would you mind?”

  “Mom, I want an explanation.” Kangee couldn’t understand why she didn’t comprehend his need to know the truth.

  She walked to the window and leaned her head against the glass. “Remember, only fish from Spell Weaver’s Mangrove will do.”

  Kangee wanted to protest but knew it would be useless. Aetheria had closed herself away as tightly as a vacuum. He should be used to it by now, but how do you become accustomed to your mother shutting you out?

  He’d been dismissed. The muscles of his stomach tightened as he clenched his jaw. “Neither of us will rest until you tell me.”

  “You’ll have answers to questions you didn’t think to ask, Kangee. I vow.”

  The air between them hung heavy with unsaid emotions and secrets. Her expression shadowed, her eyes darkening with emotion seconds before unshed tears shone in their depths. Kangee ached knowing he’d caused her such melancholy. But there had been a hint of resolution in her last statement as well.

  “Kangee?”

  He turned back from the door.

  “I love you.” She left the room like a swirl of leaves in the wind.

  ~~~

  Bobbie motioned Tabatha, Lexie, and Rhonda into her house with a nod of her head before shutting the door behind her. She slid to the floor and rested her elbows on her knees, arms outstretched before her. The skin from her wrists to her elbows burned as if the dragons were bellowing fire along her forearms. “Will someone see if there’s any ice in the freezer?”

  Rhonda raised her hands in the air before letting them drop with a slap against her thighs. “I knew it. You’re not all right.”

  Lexie raced to the kitchen and returned with a rose-colored dishtowel filled with ice-cubes. She gently placed it over one of the tattoos. “Hold this on there until I find another towel.”

  Tabatha rummaged through the pile of backpacks finding her pack. “I have some analgesic ointment in here somewhere. It should help and keep it from getting infected.”

  “I’m pretty sure the Spirit Warriors used antibacterial spirit lasers when they carved these suckers on.” Bobbie offered her a sardonic look. “I doubt I have to worry about infection.”

  Tabatha rolled her eyes. “Humor me.” She dumped the contents out on the floor and shuffled the items around until she picked up a tube of ointment and made her way over a pile of clothing on the floor. “I swear, Bobbie, you made a mess in here. What were you thinking?” She opened the tube and smoothed the contents over Bobbie’s arms.

  Bobbie clenched her teeth. Tabatha’s touch was nearly unbearable. “I wanted Cuda’s things out of my home. They were all mixed up with everything I’d left behind when I ran away and the only way to fix that was to separate it.” She winced when Tabatha’s fingers touched the tender skin of her inner wrist. “Give me a little credit. I didn’t burn the place down. I have my very own firestarter, you know.”

  “Who wouldn’t have helped you?” Rhonda picked up the jackets from the floor and hung them in the coat closet. “Will these clothes fit you anymore? They look kinda small.”

  “Nope. Makes no difference, though. It’s my stuff.” Rhonda was right. There’s no need to keep these things. They would never fit her again, and they couldn’t bring back her family or her brother. They were just cloth, thread, zippers and buttons. No soul. Just melancholy memories. She glanced at Lexie when she came into the room. “They might fit you.”

  Lexie grasped a bright red silk blouse from the floor and rubbed it against her cheek. “This is too nice to give away.”

  “It would be silly and sinful to keep something I can no longer wear, Lexie. You need clothes.” Memories of wearing that very blouse on her and Kangee’s first real date assailed her. Bobbie didn’t have the heart to take it from Lexie. “I can’t wear them. Besides, that will look beautiful on you. What do you think, Tabatha?”

  “I think it’s perfect for her.” Tabatha smiled then leaned back to appraise her work. “Did this help or does the ice help more?”

  Bobbie sighed. How could she tell Tabatha that with her keen senses, the burn was so strong she had fought not to cry out against the injustice of it? She nearly laughed at the memory of her brother, Elsu’s, favorite rant, hellshitdamn! Then wondered what the girls would think if she shouted it out right then and there. “A combination of both seems to be working.”

  Lexie glanced around, still enthralled with the blouse, and shook her head. Blushing, she tossed the shirt over her shoulder and handed Bobbie the second towel. “Sorry. Forgot I had it.”

  Tabatha sat at Bobbie’s side. “Okay, what happened? Why didn’t you let us go with you?”

  “I couldn’t. Guess you could say it’s a command performance from the ancient warriors.” Grateful for the distraction, Bobbie waggled her eyebrows in jest. “They don’t want witnesses if they reject you.”

  “What do you mean, reject you?” Tabatha leaned back and crossed her arms in her lap.

  Lexie squirmed when Bobbie didn’t answer. “She means if some impostor tries to sit on the throne and steal the position, they’ll fry them. They become fodder for the ash pit.” She paused in thought. “No, I guess not the pit, since only good guys’ ashes can be placed there. Guess they’d have been dumped in the Gulf.”

  Tabatha leaned closer and looked Bobbie directly in the eyes. “Let me put of fear of God in you, girlfriend. If you’d been killed, what do you think your people would have done to Rhonda and me? Hmm? Did you give that any thought before leaving us alone out there?”

  “Come on, Tabatha. Bobbie’s a true Moran. She had nothing to worry about. Right, Bobbie?” Rhonda hung the last jacket.

  “Oh, our history tells of two Moran’s who were denied.” Bobbie ran the stories over in her head trying to cut them down to shorter versions. “There was Mortimer, back in 1872. He was a drunk and a womanizer. They didn’t think he would do at all. Then, Estrid. No one knows why he was refused. But there were rumors he wasn’t a ‘he’ at all. That Estrid’s mother had raised a daughter as a man so she would be acceptable as king.”

  “Then why were you acceptable?” Rhonda bent down to gather a few of the scattered items around the room.

  “I’m not sure. Again, rumors, but it was said Estrid had become blood hungry, hunting down humans and eating them.”

  “Ewww.” Rhonda wrinkled her nose.

  Lexie moved so close her body heat seared the burns on Bobbie’s arms. “Were you scared?”

  “No.” Bobbie glanced at each of the women and smiled. “I was terrified.”

  It’s over. No need to worry them with what if or could be.

  Tabatha was right, though, she’d not used her head.
She should have left them with Kangee with orders to get them out if anything happened to her. That still needed to be taken care of. She pushed herself to her feet and let the sopping towels drop to the floor. “Let’s get the rest of these clothes in Lexie’s room.”

  She gently shoved Lexie to a more comfortable distance away. “Lexie, go through them and decide what you want then take the rest to Agnes. How many kids does she have now, anyway?”

  “Only three.”

  “How old are they?”

  “Lonnie is three. Duff’s five. Ionna, she’s twelve, she hasn’t had her change but will any time now.”

  Bobbie picked up a couple pieces of clothing. “Would any of these clothes fit Ionna?”

  “Maybe.” Lexie stepped out on the front landing, cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Hey, Ionna, want some clothes? If you do, come on up and help me sort them out.”

  Seconds later, the sound of footsteps thundered up the stairs, the door flew open, and in the opening stood a smaller, younger version of Omeda.

  “Hi.” She held out her hand toward Bobbie. “I’m Ionna.”

  Bobbie took her hand, gave it a squeeze and let it go. “Nice to meet you, Ionna. I’m Bobbie, and this is Tabatha and Rhonda.”

  Ionna waved her hand in front of her face as if dismissing them, shaking her head. “Oh, my momma told me about you having Outsiders here. Said they got some kind of magic of their own and to be careful ’til I find out what they are. They could be bad spirits. They could be spies.”

  “Spies? Something else I have to worry about? Is there something I need to know?”

  Lexie rolled her eyes. “Come on, motor mouth. We got work to do.”

  “Ionna, do you know where Kangee is?” Bobbie glanced out the window hoping to see him but only saw a woman carrying a basket of laundry from the line to her house, old man Hank whittling on a small chunk of cypress, the normal activity of daily life.

  “Oh, he’s gone fishing. Said Aetheria told him he should get the fish for the celebration tonight.” Ionna shrugged her shoulders. “He didn’t look too happy about it. Stomping his feet and talking to himself. What happened to your eyes? Kinda looks like momma’s clay pots, but lighter. Wonder why they did that.”

  Bobbie glanced at Rhonda, who handed her a mirror. Okay, this was definitely a hellshitdamn moment. “I don’t know, Ionna. Guess the spirits didn’t like them the color they were.”

  Ionna bent over, grasped an armload of clothing, and helped Lexie toss the pile into the bedroom on the right.

  Bobbie waited until the girls had the last of the clothing and closed the door behind them before she burst out laughing. “Remind me never to ask her a question when I’m in a hurry.”

  Tabatha smiled. “She’s right though. They have changed chocolate brown to sort of a terracotta.”

  Bobbie brought the mirror up again, opened her lids wide and stared into her pale eyes. “I look like I’ve spent my whole life eating nothing but orange Creamsicles! Good grief.”

  “I’m curious about something.” Tabatha leaned back casually against the wall and crossed her ankles. “Coyotes are a bit cowardly. If they get hurt, they tuck tail and run. Cuda didn’t.”

  “Cuda, like me or Kangee, is partly animal and partly human. We were born with the instincts of our animals, but being human, we are a result of our upbringing.” Bobbie didn’t know how to make it any easier for her friends to understand. “I guess Cuda’s raising was one where fight was more important than flight.”

  Rhonda’s face twisted in concentration. “So, you can be raised to take out the animal instincts?”

  “No.” Having more than one animal dueling to take control of her made for a battle of wills sometimes. Her snake form wanting to take time to think things out, the panther to attack and ask questions after dinner. As far as she knew, only the royal bloodline could shift to more than one animal. Lucky her. “How to control them.”

  “Okay.” Rhonda shrugged. “So it’s like a Batman costume.”

  “Huh?” Trying to understand Rhonda’s thought process could be challenging in the best of times. Right now, Bobbie had no idea what was about to come out of that mouth.

  “You slip it on, you’re Batman. Your butt looks good in leather, but when you take it off, you’ve got Bruce Wayne’s butt again. And though your butt looks good as Batman, you’re still thinking as Bruce Wayne.” Rhonda bent over and dug into a pile of items sitting at the bottom of the living room coat closet.

  “I’ve never heard it put that way, but, yeah, that about sums it up.” Bobbie laughed softly.

  “Hey, look what I found.” Rhonda held up a portable radio with a crank on the back. “No batteries. Wonder if it works.” She gave the crank a few turns and static filled the room. She turned the tuner until Toby Keith’s voice filled the silence as he sang the last strains of How Do You Like Me Now?!

  As the last notes played, the DJ interrupted, “Tropical storm Mona is one hundred-and-four miles east of Miami. Headed due west at fifteen miles an hour. Expected to cross into the Gulf of Mexico some time tonight. The Weather Service predicts it’ll gain strength once over the warm gulf waters and upgrade to a hurricane by morning. The weather service will release a new report at six pm to tell us what path Mona is expected to take. Stay tuned, folks. We got Tim McGraw and Faith Hill’s newest release for you right after we let some of our sponsors pay the bills.” A commercial for New Orleans Daiquiris rang out with unnatural cheeriness.

  Bobbie slumped down on the couch. Please, God, not now. I can’t take a hurricane on top of everything else. “Welcome to the Gulf Coast. There’s always a storm of one kind or other brewing. Damn, but a daiquiri sounds good about now.”

  Tabatha handed her a soft drink and slid down the wall to the floor. “What did Lexie mean about Ionna not having her first shift yet? Does that have some significance?”

  “Big significance. Pure shifters turn for the first time when they’re infants.” That brought a new problem into the equation. Who was Agnes screwing and were they human or half-breed? “Taint the blood and the shift can come much later. Luckily for Ionna, the mortality rate is much lower for the mixed blood children since they shift later in life and are stronger, but it’s not easier. Shifting the first time is a bitch.”

  A low hum of magic settled over her skin and a vision filled Bobbie’s head. Kangee stood on the pier. Cuda and his band of troublemakers formed a half circle around him, closing in. She drew in their scent. Hot magma, burning leaves, and molten steel, all the odors of rage, hatred and wrath.

  She bounded from the couch in one fluid movement, and the shift was immediate, her body stretching, bones popping, hair forcing its way through her pores. She tasted the coppery-sweet flavors of the blood of war, the blood of her foes.

  “Bobbie?”

  Tabatha’s voice cut through the fog of Bobbie’s vision. Bobbie spun around to stare at her friend before running out the door. Her pulse raced with fear and excitement. Blood rushed though her brain. The vision cleared of everything but a flaming sword and dragons.

  Confused as to what the vision meant, Bobbie ran faster. The wind pushed her forward, the trees appeared to move, giving her leeway.

  I’m coming, Kangee.

  Chapter Seven

  Spell Weaver’s Mangrove appeared at a distance of two football fields away from Kangee’s boat. The mist surrounding the island swirled like a whirlpool round about the mangled trees and brush, giving the impression of an apparition, a figment of one’s imagination, rather than the mystical home of maniacal spirits. Kangee maneuvered the rudder, steering closer to the grove’s banks, but far enough away to stay out of the circle of magic the island emitted.

  As the boat came to a stop, the water calmed and the wind slowed to a pleasant breeze. The prevailing current of air blew bands of clouds toward the west, dark and heavy with the promise of rain later in the day. He shut off the engine and dropped anchor.

  He’d always consid
ered fishing a mindless affair. The men of the village said it relaxed them, while Kangee considered it merely a way to feed himself and Aetheria. His thoughts would wander to chores awaiting his carpenter’s hands, Aetheria’s roof, the gardens, or to Bobbie and when she would accept they were meant to be together and come back to him. Not today. His thoughts settled on the sweat that broke out on her forehead, the squint of her eyes. She’d tried to hide her pain from him. As it always was with anything involving her, he’d been left with more questions than answers. He removed his shirt and tossed it aside, enjoying the warm sun on his skin.

  Were the dragons a clue to Bobbie’s destiny in the prophecy? No one noticed her eyes had gone from dark brown to the color of sienna or that the dragons stared up at her as if waiting for her command. What part had the Outsiders played in all this? He’d seen Rhonda’s powers first hand. Bobbie provided only vague hints of what Tabatha’s powers were and the only other source was rumors started by Omeda of raising the dead and talking corpses.

  “Kangee.” The male voice, a whisper in the wind, startled him from his thoughts.

  His pulse raced, and his throat tightened around his windpipe.

  Doing a visual search of the boat and the waters surrounding it, he realized he’d drifted closer to the mangrove than he’d intended. The rope, taut with the anchor’s weight, remained attached to the boat. There was no other watercraft in sight, nobody among the trees. No one ever came this close to the island or dared to step upon its soil. Stories of it being the home of hateful spirits were told to children and adults alike.

  He reached to restart the engine but stilled as he heard the voice again. A cold wash of fear slid from the top of his head and settled at his feet. His heart raced and sweat broke out on his brow. Instantly, he knew it was the spirits calling out to him, but why? After swallowing several times, he looked in the direction from where the voice had come.