Destiny's Child (Kitsune series Book 3)

by Blayde, Morgan

  I nodded. “I see a door in the back of the fellowship. We’ll go in that way, get everybody surrounded.”

  Maddy had her phone out. She texted a message to Van Helsing, and put her phone away. “Let’s do this!” She turned back around and eased her door open, sliding out. She left the driver’s door ajar, not wanting to slam it, and circled the van to hook up with Fran. Together, they slunk off like menacing shadows.

  Faith followed me out my door. I left it open as well. “What if someone steals our van?” I whispered.

  Faith whispered back, “It has GPS. We can also explode it by remote control if necessary. Van Helsing thinks of everything.”

  “I hope so.”

  She locked her arm in mine as I started to move. We cat-footed it over to the Nissan NV Passenger van. Faith drew her bamboo-hilted sword and made quick work of slashing tires. She repeated the process on Elektra’s Corvette. “Hate to do that to innocent vehicles,” Faith hissed, “but this is war.”

  I snagged her arm and tugged her along with me. “Okay, no talking from here on in unless it’s very, very important.”

  She nodded a couple times, a fierce grin on her face. As we went, up to the fellowship hall, she canted her head, listening to the whispery slap of out footfalls. Like sonar pulses, they painted the world for her in colors I couldn’t imagine. We stopped by a door. I summoned my shadow sword once again, but didn’t use it as Faith gripped my arm tightly. She had the side of her face pressed up against the door, listening intently, and then broke off, moving her lips close to my ears.

  She whispered, “Someone’s inside. I hear muffled sounds.”

  I whispered back, “Give me thirty seconds to clear the way.”

  Faith grinned at me and said, “Give ‘em Hell.”

  I crossed over, intending to go in and do exactly that.

  TWENTY-NINE

  “Dance with me heart to heart,

  knives concealed, sharp smiles drawn.

  Pain is pleasure, mingled and lost,

  when the light in your eyes is gone.”

  —The Final Dance

  Elektra Blue

  Crouched outside the fellowship hall, I was sheathed in my orange aura. I poured it out of my fist around a core of shadow, forming a sword of darkness and light. Armed, I sprang through the wall beside the door, ghosting inside. The room was dark, but enough light spilled in through the long, narrow windows to let me see rows of tables and chairs, unoccupied, awaiting purpose. I landed on tiles, and swept the gloom for prey, my antennae rippling.

  And there was the thrall, an older male with an acid-washed, tattered aura—a smoky brownish gray. He sat in the kitchen at an island area used for food prep. A laptop faced him, bathing his face in a pale light. He wore glasses reflecting light, masking his eyes. His head was down. His lips moved as if he were talking to himself, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

  I had a choice: open the door and risk alerting him to us as Faith entered, or taking the thrall first. I went with the second option, bounding his way, gaining lift from my baby moth wings. I didn’t want him dead, just down and out for awhile, so I collapsed my sword as I flew into the kitchen, phasing through a solid wall by pulling my aura into my body. I landed on the island area, looming over the laptop. I pivoted into a punch that drew strength from my legs and from the way I turned my hip into the blow. All the muscles of my back fed my fist power as I centered aura there. Leaping flames trailed from my hand as I hit him from across the veil. Had the vamp been remotely using the thrall’s senses, they’d have seen the blow coming. As it was, the thrall’s head snapped back, glasses flew, and dimming surprise covered his face briefly before unconsciousness took over. His chair crashed back, spilling him to the ground.

  “Oh bleep!” I shook my hand. I’d rolled my fingers tightly and had kept my thumb outside the other fingers—everything done right—but it still hurt.

  With a thought, I rifted the fabric of space, falling through, closing the tear behind me. Gravity strengthened. I lost sight of my aura. The tingle of crossing back faded. I heard the back door getting kicked in. Faith had heard the commotion and become impatient. Looking for me, she called into the gloom, “Grace, are you all right?”

  “Over here.” Momentarily forgetting her blindness, I waved at her through the cutout space where food was passed out into the main hall.

  She ran to the cutout, following my voice.

  “There was a thrall here working on a laptop. He’s having a nap, so let’s move on.”

  “Check what he was working on first,” Faith said. “It might be important.”

  I looked at the display screen. There was a web page being prepared, an announcement of an upcoming memorial concert featuring the orange-haired thrall, in a Goth-whore outfit only a rock star could get away with. “Yeah, Elektra is definitely on the way to an early grave. He’s probably working on this here because nobody wants to tip her off before Conrad takes her out.”

  “Not on my watch,” Faith said. “Lead on, and hurry.”

  I left the kitchen for the main hall, scanning for an inside door that would get us to the church. I spied a door in the right direction and headed that way. Faith stayed close behind me, stopping when I did to try the knob. It was open as I’d expected since the thrall had been working in here. I eased the door open and found a lighted hallway. I padded forward and found myself outside a series of offices. There was a door I figured for a janitor’s closet, a water fountain, and restrooms. In the middle of the hall was a door with a window in it, the door to the parking lot. Immediately to my left was a door into the sanctuary. I led Faith there, offering up a quick prayer for forgiveness for the violence I was bringing, and the likely bloodshed.

  Paused there, I heard screams and curses through the door, along with the sound of gunfire. “Van Helsing and Maddy have started the party without us,” I said.

  “She likes to hog all the fun,” Faith muttered, shoving me through the door. “What are we waiting for?”

  Inside the sanctuary, I took a couple seconds to get the lay of the land and see where my efforts were most needed amidst the frantic fighters. I saw several thralls sprawled near a front door, their guns fallen beside them. Van Helsing and his boys were brawling with more thralls. And I saw Fran climbing back in through a broken stained-glass window she’d probably been tossed through. Maddy was collapsed next to the front pew, groggy, trying to climb back to her feet. The side of her face was red and would probably bruise up by morning.

  Singing Jesus Loves Me, Faith launched past me. Her sword rasped free of its sheath. She scurried into a knot of thralls—more than I’d expected—and didn’t drop her sheath. Clubbing with it left-handedly, she used her right to guide her sword through a series of one-handed stabs and slashes.

  My attention shifted to the front of the church where a coffin sat on the altar, surrounded by white, burning candles on tall stands. Oblivious to the raging battle, Elektra was in the open coffin, a dreamy look of bemusement on her face. Hypnotized, I thought.

  Standing next to the coffin was a man in a dark suit with short, slicked-back, bronze hair and sharply chiseled features. His lips were full and sensuous, his gaze fixed on Elektra’s face. Silver gleamed from the knife he held at his side.

  I ran toward him, feeling time bleeding out. I had to stop what I knew was coming.

  Fast as he was, his hand didn’t seem to move—the knife just appeared, raised over his head, poised to strike as he savored the moment.

  I’m not going to make it in time.

  Give me control! Taliesina urged.

  I relaxed and felt her will driving our body forward. My sword swung up in front of me, pointed at his heart. A savage battle scream echoed inside my head, Taliesina venting, and my shadow-fire sword lengthened, closing the distance in a heartbeat. The aura-wrapped shadow of my blade bit into his chest, sliding deep, punching out his back.

  He screamed. The silver knife fell from his hand. He sank to his
knees.

  I still had five feet to go to reach the coffin. My sword returned to its usual length.

  Again, I didn’t see Conrad move. One second, he was on his knees by the altar. A split-second later, he was in my face, baring fangs, his eyes burning into mine, damping my thoughts. But he couldn’t take control of me—I’d already handed myself off to Taliesina; she was in control.

  Conrad’s right hand closed around my throat, clamping off my breath. He lifted me off my feet and froze in place, an undead statue. I felt rigidness in the weave of space as a deep tingle washed through me, not merely dancing over my skin as when I crossed over. I didn’t shift to the ghost realm. This was something I’d only felt once before, the time in the temple I’d battled one of the miko’s ninjas, using my kitsune power to temporarily stop time. I guess Taliesina had been paying attention because she’d nailed the technique—which was soon going to be paid for with crushing fatigue.

  Time was going to snap back into motion very soon since I wasn’t as powerful as Cassie. I hurried to take advantage of the freeze, prying my throat out of Conrad’s clutching hand, dropping at his feet. My sword still blazed in my hand, the shadow core flat, matte black, the surrounding orange haze no longer rippling like fire, but stiff as stained glass. The blade had hurt Conrad, but not really put him down. I didn’t want to repeat a tactic that had proven insufficient. I needed a new weapon.

  And there was Fran, suspended mid air, a wooden stake in each hand. Only a couple of jumps from the front pew, she waited midair for time to kick in again. Her approach over the pews was straight for Conrad. She displayed awesome balance by hopping from the back of one pew to another, taking an unconventional shortcut since the aisles were clogged with slayers and thralls going at it. I was ready to take back everything I’d ever said about her not being the best slayer around.

  I let my sword fade out, directing my thoughts to Fran, wondering if I could pull her into this silent, timeless moment where I was active. It couldn’t be much different from when I’d carried someone else across the veil into the ghost realm—simply a matter of applied power. I didn’t move over to touch her, but fixed her image in my thoughts, using visualization to see her moving in my mind. This focused my desire, directing my kitsune energy.

  I felt a kind of shockwave rolling off me.

  Falling between seconds, Fran landed from her jump, and launched into the last one she needed. Her foot hit the front pew wrong. She crashed down into the seat, one leg bent under her, the other fully extended. Her elbow hit the padded seat. Her head caught the armrest. Stunned, she flopped onto the red-carpeted floor.

  And another one bites the dust.

  Time snapped back into motion. A flush of weakness made my muscles tremble. My breath labored, I became aware of pain in my throat from where Conrad had gripped me. Kneeling, I stared up at him.

  He stared at his empty hand, no doubt wondering where I’d vanished to. His red-coal gaze dropped to where I crouched.

  I didn’t see the kick. Damn vampire speed. It gave him a vicious edge.

  Next thing I knew, I was flying back the way I’d come, my face shoved to the side. I heard my neck break—a very ugly sound. I hit the carpet and rolled. When I stopped, I looked back at Conrad. He stood where I’d left him. A look of utter surprise was etched into his face.

  Because somehow I’m still alive?

  No. The point of a very sharp stake protruded from his chest. He couldn’t seem to move as—close behind him—Maddy drove in a second stake.

  Tearing himself free of shock, Conrad stagger in a turn to stare at her. Leg fully extended, Maddy gave him a crescent kick across the face. He fell to the carpet and slumped, flesh darkening. His skin and muscle decayed. His chest slumped. He left a powdery skeleton that protruded from his flattened clothes. The bones also sagged and crumbled. It was as if the vampire had lived centuries, avoiding time’s corruption, only to have it catch up to him at last.

  Maddy stared down at the remains. “Enjoy Hell, you son of a bitch.”

  Hell, yeah!

  And then Elektra was there, tackling Maddy from behind. Her mom had her in a death grip, hugging her from behind. “Maddy, oh, Maddy! I was so afraid for you. I saw him batter you down, but I couldn’t move, I couldn’t feel. My heart was frozen in ice—until he died.”

  Maddy shook her self free, turning to face her mom. “Don’t talk to me. I don’t know you.” She went over to the front pew, gathered Fran up in a fireman’s carry, and headed for the door at the back hallway.

  The fighting was over. The thralls stood still, as though time was still out of joint. Their faces showed emptiness with hollow eyes and slack features. They were marionettes with burned strings, no hand to guide them, no will to drive them. Like vacant houses, there was no life to them anymore though they still breathed.

  Faith was at my side. “What happened?” she asked.

  I felt the bones in my neck fuse back into place, the fractures healing themselves. The pain from my face was gone as well. Apparently there’s at least one benefit to being infused with mothman DNA.

  I gave Faith a summary. “Vamp’s dead. Elektra’s alive. We won.” I looked her over for injuries. Her clothes were a bit disheveled. There was blood on her and her sword, but she didn’t seem hurt. “How many did you get?”

  “Six dead, two who want to be, and one of them is now missing a pair of balls—typical score.”

  I nodded. “Let’s get out of here. I want to see how Maddy is holding up.”

  We walked past Elektra. She stood there, staring down at what was left of her one-time lover. Her face wasn’t as empty as the other thralls. I read hurt from her betrayal, acting as a kind of insulation to her loss. Knowing her own bad choices had brought her here, I couldn’t work up much sympathy for her.

  I got half a dozen steps and then sagged to my knees, my vision graying out around the edges. I caught the floor with my hands so I didn’t sprawl flat.

  “Grace!” Faith stooped beside me, her hands on my shoulders. “Are you hurt? I don’t smell any blood on you.”

  “Just tired. Stopping the world in its tracks … takes a lot out of you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Duhn’t worry ‘bout it.”

  Van Helsing appeared. He knelt in front of me and carefully raised my chin. He studied my face in the candlelight. “A bit of lingering concussion. Maybe we better get you to a hospital.”

  “Anyone tries to put me in an MRI and they’re dead meat, toast, terminated with prejudice, and prematurely recycled. You feeling me?”

  “Yeah, dawg,” Faith said. “We feelin’ you just fine.”

  In the distance, I heard the scream of police vehicles drawing near.

  “Time to fade, people,” Van Helsing called out. “Move it!”

  THIRTY

  “Embrace emptiness. It’s time to forget.

  Allow your embers to consume my regret.”

  —Embers

  Elektra Blue

  He appeared in the front door of the church, smelling of dry winds, the wildness of the hunt, and all things male. He pushed through the slayers, kicked a thrall out of his path with a boot to the face, and loomed over me where I kneeled. Fenn’s eyes glowed, golden fire in place of the usual amber. He reached past Von Helsing, offering me his arm, his strength, his heart. Promises that I couldn’t name flickered in his gaze.

  “C’mon, Grace, we need to get out of here.”

  “Yeah.” I latched onto his forearm. It was all I could do. My legs had lost the strength to shove me higher. He pulled me to my feet and into his arms as I sagged, threatening to fall. “Don’t know what’s … wrong with me.”

  “I do.” He scooped me up, watching my feathery antennae bounce as he cradled me in his arms. “To use highfalutin medical jargon, your ‘system’s out of whack.’” He turned and carried me down the aisle toward the door, my weight negligible against his shape-shifter’s strength. The sizzle of his aura washed o
ver me, as the menace in his face cleared everyone out of our path. I closed my eyes and rested my head against his shoulder as he droned on, “Your body is trying to integrate cross-species elements to be several things at once. Most shifters just have to go from one form to another and back again. I don’t think the moth part of you will dominate, but it definitely wants to be heard.”

  The police sirens were louder.

  He stopped.

  I opened my eyes and saw that we were next to a topless Jeep. The body was boxy, a mid-shade between blue and green. The interior was beige, with a padded cage over it that looked sort of spidery. Fenn slid me in over the door and settled me into the front passenger’s seat. Without thinking about it, I buckled in.

  He clambered up the vehicle, passed over me, and dropped down through the roll bars, into the driver’s seat. The Jeep roared to life, and he sent it plunging toward the street. We left the church and cruised away from the sound of sirens. Fenn took the first right turn to keep us out of view of the arriving cops. I had no doubt that the slayers would get away, even if they had to toss around a few smoke bombs or some flash-bangs.

  We plunged through patches of darkness, passing from one streetlight to another. Houses gave way to businesses, most of them closed. I felt the cold of the wind stream. That was unusual. After years of walking the ghost realm, I’d become impervious to such discomfort. I often didn’t really need a coat while others were shivering in theirs. I put a hand to my forehead and felt warmth.

  Fever, not good.

  We pulled up to a 24-Seven convenience store, parking near the door. “Sit tight,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  Sure. I closed my eyes. My thoughts spiraled into darkness. It seemed only a moment, but Fenn was back in the Jeep, arms loaded with assorted snackage. He shoved a fountain drink into my hands. I set it between my legs so I could take the chocolate bar he gave me next.