Tears and Shadow (kitsune series) Read online

  TEARS AND SHADOW

  © Copyright October 2012 by MORGAN BLAYDE

  ALSO BY

  MORGAN BLAYDE

  KITSUNE SERIES:

  SHADOW DANCER

  TEARS AND SHADOWS

  DEMON LORD SERIES:

  RED MOON DEMON

  2

  SHADOW DANCER/Blayde

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS:

  To those who helped along the way: Jane O’Riva, Sally Ann Barnes, Denny Grayson, Scott Smith, Caroline Williams, Dave Murray, Chris Crowe, Steve and Judy Prey, Penny Hill, Jim Czajkowski, Leo Little, Kathy L’Ecluse, Chris Smith, Jean Colgrove, John Keese, and Raquela Perez Mejia.

  149

  TEARS AND SHADOW /Morgan Blayde

  ONE

  AL LA MACCHIA: “out in the woods.”

  An Informal, rough-and-tumble duel,

  often by groups.

  I held my latest purchase—FENCING FOR DUMMIES—flipping the pages. A quick skim committed the yellow and black paperback to memory. The text would come when summoned, but digesting and understanding was going to take a while. Unfortunately, there were no short cuts to becoming a kick-ass girl-wonder. I dropped the book on the nightstand.

  My hand itched for the new katana in the closet, but first, I needed to work on the basics. That’s what I had Shaun for, even if he was avoiding me. Circumstances had reduced me to spying on him for the training I needed.

  Not cool, I know, but… I envisioned his storm-blue eyes, platinum-brown hair, six-pack abs, and cute butt … Ah, heaven!

  The alarm clock read 5:30 A.M. He’d be at the back of his house in his private dojo soon.

  Incandescent yellow eyes opened in the back shadows of my mind, my other self checking in. Time to go, Taliesina said.

  “Yeah, I know.” I rolled off the bed, keeping my voice low though my roommate’s soft snore told me she was out like a light that had been hammered into submission.

  I grabbed my black-and-purple plaid vest off the back of my desk chair where I’d left it hours earlier. Quilted and down-filled, the vest matched my black denim jeans, and my silver-black cross-trainer sneakers, which I’d been wearing in anticipation of going out soon. Since my recent contamination with mothman DNA, I found myself needing less and less sleep at night. Sometimes, it was all I could do not go stay out all night, drinking moonlight. I slid the vest on over a long-sleeved, camouflage thermal shirt that was pink and purple. I’d yet to find a jungle the shirt would blend into, but remained hopeful.

  The outfit was relatively new, an expensive gift from my mom. She’d felt guilty about busing me to the wilds of east Texas—far away from decent shopping. I missed my friends on the track team, and my school back in St. Louis. Mom and Dad were on a cruise ship, “taking time to salvage their marriage,” I’d been told.

  I felt a stab of pain: All my fault; if I were their real child—not a monster left in their dead daughter’s cradle—

  I drew a deep breath that brought an ache to my lungs—penance—and sighed dramatically before turning to the business at hand. Do I have everything? I patted my vest pocket, feeling something hard and flat inside. Jumbo rice-crisp chocolate bar? Check! Tukka will be happy. That’s a good thing. Two thousand pounds of grumpy fu dog can be quite the wet blanket.

  The reading lamp illuminated half my body, allowing the bedroom window to throw a partial image back at me. The rest was shadow—like half of my DNA. My real father was king of the bogeymen, the monster under the bed, and a creature not of this Earth. That also described me pretty well. I despaired at my sharp face … feral eyes … and russet, shoulder-length wavy hair—I looked like no one else in my family, a sixteen-year old fox among swans.

  I used to think my folks had found me running wild in the woods and had dragged me home to be raised in captivity. Having met Cassie—my biological mother—only three weeks ago, I wished things were that simple. Unfortunately, Luck was no kind of a lady at all. I addressed my reflection in the blue tinted, one way glass—No good can come from being half kitsune and half shadow. There ought a be a law…

  Taliesina’s yellow eyes flickered open in the shadows of my mind. My reflection twitched a corner of her mouth, almost a smile. There is a law against it. That’s why you weren’t raised among the kitsune. If they knew about us, they’d come hunting.

  Jill’s slow, quiet snoring paused as she rolled over, then kicked back in. I hadn’t known her long, but we’d bonded quickly through some pretty scary times, becoming family. Same as Drew in the suite’s other bedroom. But I didn’t like ghost walking in front of them. It was another reason for going out at this ungodly hour.

  Thinking of Drew reminded me… I went to my dresser and pulled out a red muffler she’d given me. I liked the way it fluttered bravely in my wake as I leaped about in the ghost realm, freed from the shackles of normal gravity.

  Back at the window, I placed my hands against the glass, peering out into darkness. No sign yet of morning in the sky, just pale clouds blocking the starry sky.

  Focusing, I gathered mental handfuls of space, twisting it apart like cotton candy. An electric tingle shivered my skin. My stomach tried to float inside me like a helium balloon as gravity became a wink and a promise. I crossed over to the ghost realm, like a crayon-scribbled stick man who suddenly stands up on paper, entering three dimensions. The bedroom still surrounded me, but it was silent, mute. Most material tones were shades of graphite, as spiritual energy became visible. My skin turned bright gold, sheathed in a hazy aura of cold orange flame. Outside her blanket, Jill’s aura limned her head and shoulders, a shimmering grape splotched with lime.

  Very organic.

  Solidity was a point of view here; only my aura kept me from sinking through the floor, through all the floors, deep into the foundation of the building. I pressed my hands against the window. The glass seemed to part for me like a clear pool of water. From the fifth floor, I went out the side of the building, into the night. The weaker gravity eased me toward the pavement down below as if I were sinking in a pool. Slow motion falling, I tracked the headlights of the silver Lexuses that patrolled the property. Security wouldn’t be pleased with me sneaking out, not that they could stop me. Normal humans couldn’t see me while I was crossed over.

  Horizontal, I tucked my knees, positioning my feet for a kick. The soles of my sneakers slapped the steel and glass building, bleeding aura to make a patch of it solid. The kick launched me out over the drive so my descent became a diagonal arc. I made a slow somersault, getting feet under me. My bent knees absorbed the impact of landing. Fortunately, inertia was as weak as gravity over here, or I’d have been a hurting puppy.

  Rebounding, my steps took a dozen feet at a time. This must be what astronauts feel like on the moon.

  I passed two—and three—story buildings that were industrial chic, ping-ponging from one to another until I broke into the open. Ahead of me stretched a big gray wall, enclosing the property. There were infrared beams underfoot and pressure sensors in the soil, monitored by security from the central tower. I was invisible to these measures as well. The only thing that had ever trapped me in this state had been a witch’s summoning circle—I was so glad ISIS had been dealt with and were no longer after me.

  All I had to worry about now was what my father was going to do, now that he knew I was alive. I shook off the thought because there was no way I could stop him from doing anything. I could only react to whatever was coming. And keep Tukka close. He was my staunchest ally and oldest friend, the one who usually looks after me in the ghost realm.

  I considered going through the perimeter wall, but at the last second, jumped it in a single bound like Super Girl on Smallville. That had b
een my favorite show. I was still pissed they’d cancelled it. Some things should never be allowed to end.

  After dropping into an open stretch, I leaped into the shadow-filled woods. My aura charging the air, I breathed the scent of pine and chimney smoke appeared from nowhere. The same process should have let me hear sounds from the human world that passed through my aura, but this had never been the case. Maybe my brain worked differently over here, giving priority to smell but not hearing—a kitsune thing. I’d have to ask Cassie about that.

  There was no path here so I wove between the boles of trees, ducking low hanging branches when necessary, avoiding patches of sticker-vines. There was a lightning-felled tree up ahead where Tukka would be waiting. Odd that I didn’t smell him yet.

  I reached our rendezvous point. He wasn’t there, but I heard the sound of something massive in the brush. No, there were multiple sounds. Tukka wasn’t alone, and judging from his growls, he wasn’t happy either. I wondered if he’d come up against a pack of demons. If so, getting anywhere close was stupid, but I couldn’t think of myself when Tukka was in trouble.

  I saw his blue teal, rhino-sized body crashing through blue-tinged saplings in a thinner stretch of forest. As soon as the saplings and branches fell from contact with him, they went back to a ghostly, gray state. Making part of the woodland solid hadn’t scraped off the people clinging to Tukka’s back and sides. Oddly, the strangers lacked auras, demon-black or otherwise.

  So what are they, and what do they want with Tukka?

  Never mind, answers would have to wait, I needed to…

  A man dropped into my path. He wore long hair framing a pasty white face. His glossy gray eyes were like polished hematite. He had no aura; part of the group giving Tukka trouble. The guy wore a matte black coverall. An obsidian pin on the left side of his chest registered as an alien sheriff’s badge, a ringed, four-pointed star.

  Smiling widely, he opened his arms to embrace me.

  “Sorry, not my type,” I said.

  Since he had no aura, I could touch him without getting violently shoved away. But touching wasn’t my plan. His arms closed, passing through me, as I kept my aura inside my skin, jumping straight through his body. I landed behind him and kept going, seeping just enough aura from my feet to keep me from sinking into the forest floor.

  I broke into a clearing where dead leaves tumbled over withered grass, silvered by frost and moonlight. Tukka was whirling, trying to get to those riding him. They were laughing, like this was all a child’s game.

  I screamed at them, “Stop it, right now!”

  One of the riders, a frail-looking kid my own age, stared at me in surprise. Startled out of his grip, he fell off and had to roll hastily out of the way of Tukka’s stomping feet. The remaining two riders jumped clear, obeying me at once. Tukka stopped, glaring from one enemy to another, trying to make up his mind who to chomp on first. Seeing me, he went with Plan B, rushing over and taking up a guarding position so I had to look over him to see the riders. They were all three gathered closely together, standing loosely with no hint of threat.

  They probably want me to drop my guard.

  Suddenly, I remembered the guy I’d passed. I turned to look behind me.

  He was in the air, vaulting over me. I spun and watched him land on Tukka’s broad back, using it to springboard over to his friends. As he joined them, they came to attention, acquiring a military air that was lessened by the belled cuffs of their shirtsleeves. Their wrists were wrapped in black leather, glittering darkly with what looked like throwing stars. Their faces turned grave. Playtime was over.

  Their fearless leader turned to face me. He bowed and dignity swooped down to engulf him, making him seem years older than I’d earlier thought.

  Tukka maintained a deep-throated growl. His thoughts poured through my brain, Stay back, Grace. Tukka deal with shadows.

  I patted his side, feeling his tension. “No one’s gotten hurt … yet … so why don’t we just hear what they have to say.”

  The lead shadow took a couple of steps, but stopped short as Tukka’s growl revved up. The stranger looked at Tukka, then at me. “The creature is yours? Forgive us for treating it roughly. We did not know.”

  Tukka made a disparaging humph sound to let the man know what he thought of the apology. Tukka not an it. Him person of great dignity, beauty, and virtue.

  I crooked an eyebrow at the leader of the shadow men. “Just who are you people anyway?”

  He smiled sheepishly. “I’m making a mess of this? Let me introduce myself. I am Onyx—Second-son to Lord Korvyn of Eirossa—and your future husband, by treaty with your father’s realm.”

  It was my turn to growl. “No, no, and hell no. My heart’s already spoken for, not to mention the rest of me.” If only Shaun would take advantage…

  Onyx’s face darkened in the moonlight, as though a vagrant shadow hung over him. His eyes hardened, acquiring a dangerous glitter. His tone went icy polite, “I’m sorry, but that’s just not acceptable.”

  Tukka’s thoughts poured into my head like hot maple syrup, Tukka keep them busy. Go to Shaun. He leaped at Onyx, taking him down to the frost-layered matted leaves. The other shadow men threw themselves into the battle.

  I’d seen Tukka take on multiple demons and win. He’d nearly brought down an ancient Egyptian hell-beast as well, and then there was that sea dragon... Tukka could take care of himself. Besides, with me gone, the battle had no reason to continue. And, if the shadow men followed, Tukka would be safe. I’d have saved him for once. I didn’t argue, but did as he told me, bounding into the air, clearing the free-for-all, landing on the other side of it.

  I jumped again and again, reaching the shaggy pine, ghosting through them so I wasn’t slowed down. The sound of combat faded, but I kept up to my best speed, glad that my training in cross country running had given me the thighs of an Amazon. I was going to need them if anyone was on my trail. Worry gnawed at me, but I didn’t look back. That’s the moment in every horror movie when the unlucky heroine discovers death bearing down on her like a runaway truck. If this was my time to dance with Death, I didn’t want to know.

  Death—or maybe a distant relative—came head on, passing in a dark blur, his cape fluttering. He carried a black-iron staff crowned with a six-pointed star within a scythe-shaped moon. The cape and staff had drawn most of my attention so I only had a vague impression of a pale face with coal-red, smoldering eyes. Others followed him, dark streaks in an arrow-head formation. Several nearly touched me, deepening the cold of the ghost realm for just a moment, which meant they were very cold indeed because I seldom felt such discomfort, wearing heavy clothes in winter to avoid being conspicuous.

  If these guys were reinforcements, Tukka might be in trouble.

  I’d braked in leaves, skidding to a stop as the formation passed. With a quick turn, I launched myself after them. I just had to know what was going on. By the time I returned to the clearing, Tukka had abandoned the fight, pulling a fade. Onyx’s people were on the ground, alive, but in various states of disrepair. One of them had an arm crooked in an unnatural direction, obsidian splinters of bone poking through skin. Instead of blood, there was a leakage of darkness, a fine mist that evaporated on the wind.

  Feeling nauseous, I directed my gaze elsewhere.

  The newcomers—sheathed in black uniforms with crimson piping—encircled the sprawled prince and his three guardsmen. The man with the iron staff approached them, entering the ring. Onyx’s face reflected the shock of recognition. One of the prince’s men lunged up off the ground, alarm energizing his face. The guardsman closed his hand on a materializing beam of black shadow that shaped itself into a sword.

  With a flicking wrist, Staff Guy shook his staff. Black flame fluttered from the crescent-and-star image that capped it. Expanding in a cone, shadow rings blasted down from the star, slamming into the swordsman like a concrete wall, jarring him violently, lifting him off his feet, and tossing him backwards. He fell o
n his back and skidded. With his concentration broken, his shadow sword dissipated.

  The man with the broken arm produced throwing stars, cocking his hand back to his side for an underhanded throw.

  Onyx waved the man into motionlessness, “Put that thing away. You want to get us killed?”

  Totally ignored by everyone, I hung back behind the circle of warriors, watching, putting the pieces together. From the way things had shaped up, I decided that the newcomers weren’t reinforcements, or even expected. Certainly not by me. The ghost realm was usually a lonely place with only the occasional ghost or marauding demon. I’d gotten used to thinking of it as my own private playground. I discovered I didn’t like sharing it with anyone but Tukka.

  Onyx climbed to his feet and executed a small bow. His mouth opened…

  The man with the staff used his free hand to chop the air, hard and fast, bringing a beat of silence. “See to your men, and do not be such a ruffian where…” his piercing red eyes flicked my way, then back to Onyx, “…her Highness is concerned. You do not want to offend me.”

  He gestured toward his men. The circle parted, allowing Onyx and his posse to leave. As he walked away, the man with a broken arm swung it out from him, and I watched the whole thing turn to an arm-shaped shadow hanging off his body. The shadow arm straightened, then the shadow hardened into flesh again—and the arm was whole, unbroken.

  My eyes were wide. I felt like clapping, but didn’t. This seemed like a good time to creep away. I slid a foot back, shifting my weight with it.

  I became the center of attention as the remaining shadows silently oriented on me, ranking themselves in two lines behind Staff Guy. To a man, they sank to one knee, placing fists over their hearts, bowing their heads in respect. Staff Guy bent at the waist with a lesser show of humility, calling to me, “Not even curious who we are, Princess?”