Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox

by Forthright

  “Check the timestamps.” Akira came to her side and flicked through the glut of messages. “None of those ladies are in any of the pictures sent after noon today. And … hey! I thought you told me Gingko is an old guy.”

  “Did I?” Tsumiko asked innocently.

  Akira glanced between her and the phone several times, then said, “Your elderly gardener only shows up in the last half hour. So maybe the rest cleared out. Oh, wait. This next guy’s definitely not human.”

  Tsumiko stared at a snapshot of a strange Amaranthine holding the new baby for Minx to see. “Is this … no, it can’t be Hisoka Twineshaft.”

  Argent took a turn scrutinizing the small screen. “No.”

  “Didn’t he leave last week?” In the next photo, the stranger sat stiffly beside Gingko, which brought several details to the fore. He was powerfully built, and Tsumiko was fairly certain he wore a breastplate. “Armor?” she asked.

  “Of feline design,” contributed Suuzu.

  “He’s in a lot of these pictures,” Tsumiko announced.

  Another flick brought them to a selfie that showed Michael with his arm around the newcomer’s shoulders. This time, the Amaranthine had been captured with his gaze fixed on Michael’s face. And there was something familiar in his expression. It was the same way Argent looked at her whenever he found her praying.

  “Didn’t Michael mention a nephew?” she ventured.

  “Tsk. Call Michael,” demanded Argent. “I want to know about his new admirer.”

  . . .

  Near midnight, Tsumiko held her breath as Argent slowly descended into one of the snowy courtyards of Saint Midori’s. She’d wanted to show him her former home. They wouldn’t be able to go inside, not at this hour, but a stroll through the hushed courtyards was enough.

  “How long do we have?” she asked.

  “As long as you want.”

  Upon learning that all the Amaranthine guests had vacated Stately House—with the exception of Deece, the new security guard Michael firmly vouchsafed—Argent had been eager to move along. They’d already said their goodbyes to Akira and Suuzu, and Tsumiko’s apologetic call to the longsuffering Mr. Ward meant that Tsumiko’s passport and luggage would be collected from the Smythe estate in England.

  With the baby snuggled inside the heavy parka Akira had loaned her, Tsumiko rambled through familiar territory. Argent listened with polite attention as she pointed out statues and spires, stained glass windows and sleeping gardens.

  Lights showed in a few of the dormitory windows—the soft glow of nightlights, the brighter shine of reading lamps. Sister Magdalena was still awake. Maybe one of the little ones was sick.

  Peace settled over Tsumiko’s soul, but it was mostly nostalgic. How could she reconcile the difference between what had always felt good, right, and natural … and the person she’d become. What had she retained? Did any of the changes mean she’d grown?

  While here, Tsumiko had been so sure of her future. She’d studied to become a teacher, and she’d enjoyed working with the children, especially the orphans. Because she’d been one, too. She would have contributed in countless small ways to their lives, but she’d walked away. Chasing a fortune. Finding a family, albeit an unconventional one.

  “Am I doing the right thing?” she whispered.

  A squeaky mewl came from inside her coat, and she unzipped it far enough to reveal the dragon-child’s face. Red eyes blinked and came into focused, and he made a funny little gurgling sound.

  “So he’s decided to speak up,” said Argent.

  Tsumiko stopped in her tracks, for it was as if a voice asked, “Aren’t you doing what you always wanted? Here is one who has need of mercy.”

  Could it be this simple?

  Her plans for the future hadn’t truly changed, but their focus had shifted. Everything about her upbringing with the sisters of Saint Midori’s had prepared her for a new calling. And everything she’d been given would make it possible.

  Everything crystalized, and Tsumiko laughed at herself.

  “Something amuses you?” inquired Argent.

  “I’m doing what I always thought I’d be doing,” she said. “But in a way I didn’t know I could and with a people I didn’t know existed.”

  “I would congratulate you, since you are clearly pleased by this epiphany, but your terms are frustratingly vague.”

  “I am pleased.” Tsumiko added, “And I’ll need your help.”

  Argent regarded her closely. “Tell me what you want.”

  “To make a home for children who need one.”

  “The hybrids?”

  “Yes.” She warmed to the idea. “Stately House is isolated, warded, and closely guarded. You raised Gingko, so you know what to do. Michael and Sansa, too. There’s plenty of room and money. And if the children need tending, I have more than enough.”

  “I cannot argue that.” Argent tucked his chin to his chest. “But you would draw the attention of the In-between.”

  “Once you’re free, that won’t matter anymore.” She hesitated. “Unless … you don’t like the idea?”

  “Many hybrid children will be as unwanted as this one was. And if Naroo-soh is correct, they are at risk.” A soft growl vibrated between them, and the baby’s gaze switched to Argent. “I am certain Gingko will also support your plan.”

  “Thank you.” They would give them a home and teach them how to be the best of all worlds. Starting with this little one, who needed them as much as he needed a name. An idea sparked, and Tsumiko started along the path again, aiming for the central courtyard. “I want to show you something.”

  A stone archway spanned the broad entrance, and words were chiseled deep into the stone. Argent scanned the Latin and translated, “God Have Mercy.”

  “Yes. Kyrie elaison ... my favorite song and the school’s motto. I thought Kyrie might make a good name for a child who needed mercy and found it.”

  “Kyrie,” he said, testing the syllables.

  “Do you think it’s a good name for a boy who’s part dragon?” Tsumiko asked. “I don’t know if they have rules about names.”

  “Many clans—like the wolves—have strict naming conventions, but dragons do not. Your choice suits his situation.” With a measure of formality, Argent declared, “You are Kyrie Hajime-Mettlebright of Stately House, and if your mother has her way, you are the first of many.”

  “Amen,” she whispered.

  They remained there, under the graceful arch with its Latin prayer. But Tsumiko’s reverie was overturned by an unsettling swell of fury. She spun, needing to pinpoint its source. Argent slid in front of her as an enormous fox stepped daintily into the open. Her green eyes glittered, and her many tails lashed.

  Had Nona healed already? No. For a second vixen limped out of the shadows, and the danger doubled.

  FIFTY NINE

  Beasts

  As his mind reeled through strategies and outcomes, Argent grimly acknowledged that the Hightip sisters could be subtle when it suited their purposes. Otherwise Nona never would have attained a place among the Five. And Senna never would have cornered him in a snowy courtyard.

  “How did they find us so quickly?” asked Tsumiko.

  “Foxes have any number of ways and means.” Keeping a close watch on the vixens, he moved between them and his mistress. “A well-placed sigil. A Kith watcher. I am certain if we asked, they would happily tell us. In exhausting detail. With an extravagance of self-congratulation.”

  “Can you fight two of them?”

  “Doubting my abilities?”

  Tsumiko poked his side, where his mended skin was still sensitive. “You drove her off last time, but at considerable cost. And blood loss.”

  “That was before.” Argent started to pick her up, but she stiffened at his touch. Although every instinct warned him not to let her ou
t of reach, he paused. “Is there a problem?”

  “Don’t you need to transform in order to deal with them?”

  “My first responsibility is your protection.” He gathered her up and backed away. “And Kyrie is not a morsel for greedy gullets.”

  Tsumiko cuddled the little one close. “But can you fight like this?”

  “I am a fox. Brute force is not our way.”

  “Are you certain?” With a pointed look at their twofold threat, Tsumiko said, “Because this is the second time Lady Nona has attacked.”

  Argent’s lip curled and he raised his voice to carry. “And for the second time, she will fail.”

  Senna coiled to pounce, and Tsumiko gasped. “Please, not here. Don’t let them damage the school!”

  Which neatly decided matters, for obedience was his only option.

  Rising skyward, Argent slowly tightened his hold on Tsumiko’s soul, dimming the lesser shine of a warded beacon until her presence winked out. Hidden. A first step in eluding Nona and Senna.

  Tsumiko asked, “Can we outrun them?”

  “No need,” he said softly. “Now hush. Let me think.”

  As she lapsed into tense silence, Argent gave his full attention to formulating an appropriate ruse. Leading the vixens away from Saint Midori’s put him in an ironic position. How many times had these two tried to lure him into the sky? Tonight, he would initiate the chase.

  “I will lead them away,” Argent murmured against Tsumiko’s hair. “Shall we add an inducement to follow?”

  She promptly lifted her wrist. Canny as ever.

  “If you please,” he acknowledged.

  “Are you sure?” she breathed. “Won’t they be able to steal strength from my soul?”

  “Remember your lessons. They can sense, they can want, they can drool vast puddles, but they cannot take what is not freely given. And this is not a trust-building exercise.” Argent scanned the unfamiliar cityscape, intent on finding the right props for his plan. “I only need you to get their attention. So be dazzling.”

  Tsumiko unclasped her ward, and Argent counted backward, then dropped his own hold on a brilliance that—at least from an Amaranthine’s perspective—rivaled the moon and stars. Like Soriel of the dawning, like Auriel of the Golden Seed, his mistress blazed with a glory to rival Midori of the Heavenly Lights.

  For the space of three heartbeats, he allowed Nona and Senna to look upon his lady. Long enough to whet appetites. Long enough to stir ambitions. Long enough for the two vixens to forget about the one thing they should not. Him.

  . . .

  Argent shot over the wall and skimmed along rooftops—running, leaping, flying. Keishi spread before them, a maze of residential streets, office parks, and shopping districts. Historic buildings, hilltop shines, and quaint parks flashed past as Argent sketched an arc through the city center.

  Here and there, he left a footprint on a snowy ridgepole. A patronizing touch. Like a parent’s game with weanling kits just learning to track.

  Senna’s sharp yap was unladylike in the extreme.

  Nona’s growl encouraged a fresh burst of speed.

  Tsumiko remained quiet, tucked up against him, her hand resting over his blaze in silent offer of support. It was his bound duty to make sure she survived this, yet there was no pinch of obligation. Because she made no demands, he was free to choose this. To choose her.

  Wild urges begged for his attention. This wasn’t the time to indulge them, but he refused to banish them. Not when they were his. Argent was remembering himself. Relearning himself. And reveling in the rise of instincts—pure as moonlight, clear as skies, and as exhilarating as the wind in one’s tails.

  She was trembling, and he nuzzled her hair. “Are you afraid?”

  “C-cold.” Tsumiko smiled wanly. “Are they following?”

  “Close on our heels. Though not as close as they think.”

  “An illusion?” She stretched to peek over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t a nine-tail fox be immune to tricks?”

  “You would think.” Argent chuckled darkly. “If I had shown them the impossible, they might suspect, but I have only given what they expected to gain.”

  “Good,” she murmured.

  “Very.”

  “Does that mean you’ve drawn them into a fox dream?”

  Argent huffed. “So you know about those? I suppose Michael warned you what I can do.”

  “I’ve experienced one.” Her brows knit. “Don’t you remember? You showed me those two—Senna and Nona.”

  “I would remember such a thing,” he countered. But she had no reason to lie. And now that he thought of it, how did Tsumiko know the second vixen’s name?

  Tsumiko cheeks colored to match the rosy pink of her nose. “You were different, but you were you.”

  That blush intrigued Argent. “I will hear more about this dream we shared.”

  He was making her uncomfortable, and Kyrie picked up on it. This was hardly the best time for the boy to prove that he knew how to cry. Tsumiko did her best to hush him.

  “Relax. His cries will only serve to intrigue.” Argent rumbled soothingly to Kyrie even as he wove the baby’s cries into his illusion. Telltale whimpers to spike the vixens’ curiosity and draw them deeper into his thrall.

  “What do they see?” she asked.

  “They pursue the seven-tailed reynard Nona remembers from our last skirmish.”

  “They think you’ve transformed.”

  He hummed an affirmative. But most of his attention was taken up by his search. He needed a setting in which his burgeoning plan could succeed. Somewhere without a human populace, since the reavers wouldn’t thank him for endangering the alliance. The strongholds of the In-between were out as well. Their wards would hinder—or at the very least hamper—his scheme.

  Then he spied a spacious tract of open land. Dazzling sigils marked the boundaries of a forested compound. But they weren’t anchors for any sort of barrier. Only markers to broadcast the claim of its owner.

  Typical. And world famous.

  Up until the Emergence, this property was thought to be the ancestral estate of a wealthy silk baron, but its front gate had become a regular feature on international news channels, the backdrop for countless press conferences. This was the Starmark compound, home to the leader of the dog clans.

  If Argent could pull this off, it would be an exquisite deception.

  Sailing past the boundary, he modified his illusion, crafting sigils on the fly. The challenge sent his blood singing—familiar, but on a scale that excited him. True, he’d carved a haven for himself in the midst of hostile territory. Stately House’s conservatory was a masterpiece of intricate, interlocking sigils. Effective, despite the limits placed on his power. Creating a stage for this scene was similar, yet simpler, for his strength was at its peak. The illusion practically wove itself.

  “What’s happening?” whispered Tsumiko.

  Argent was only too happy to show off.

  With great care, he ushered her into the fringes of a seamless dream. Immediately, the view changed, for he’d thoroughly displaced the Hightip sisters. They believed they’d set down in a park several kilometers to north of the city. In truth, they had barely moved; the bell tower of Saint Midori’s was in plain view beyond the treetops.

  Tsumiko made a small noise of distress. Or perhaps it was protest.

  Nona and Senna had cornered a silver fox who was favoring one paw. Head low, the illusory Argent struggled for breath. His bristled tails fanned in warning, and doubt crept into a gaze that darted from one attacker to the other. The Hightip sisters saw a fox cornered, cowed, and about to crumble.

  Senna circled, aiming for a small figure huddled at Argent’s flank.

  “Is that supposed to be me?” asked Tsumiko.

  “You and a newborn human. No
sense betraying the truth of Kyrie’s breeding.”

  “So they’re not after him?”

  “If you have a child, that child might have power. They will not be satisfied until they know if you are hiding another star within your brightness.” He adjusted his grip, making her more secure, for he could sympathize with the vixens to some degree. “Clever as they may be, they cannot resist the instinct to chase, to take, to keep for themselves.”

  Tsumiko’s lips pursed. “Is that all it is? Instinct?”

  “No. We Amaranthine are bound to the beasts of this world, but we are more than our instincts.” Argent nosed her hair, quietly adding, “We are not all slaves to our urges.”

  Nodding toward the scene, Tsumiko asked, “What now?”

  “Sleight of hand.” He scanned their true surroundings, adding, “I will pull a switch, and then we must get while the getting is good. See there?”

  She followed the point of a finger to the clearing’s edge, where a large animal crouched. The dog was too large to be anything but a Kith guardian.

  “Is someone riding that animal?” Tsumiko whispered. “A reaver?”

  “He is Amaranthine.” The slender youth astride the dog remained in shadows, but Argent’s senses picked up details she couldn’t see—auburn hair, copper eyes, and the jut of two sword hilts at his hip. “One of Starmark’s whelps, by his coloring. He will raise the alarm.”

  “Will that be a problem?”

  “Not for us.” Argent knew he was smiling. It was too early to gloat, but … how long had it been since he had felt superior? Senna had always been vicious, and Nona’s scheming made them a devastating team. Yet they came at him head-on. No tricks. No trap. Only a wild scramble to destroy all evidence of something that was becoming increasingly evident.

  Argent was better than the clan’s best.

  Senna lunged, missing the young woman hiding behind the silver fox, but catching his foreleg. Tsumiko’s double screamed, and dream-Argent snarled and struggled free. Nona limped in, joining the melee, and Argent reached out, giving the dream its final twist.