Shadow Dancer (Kitsune series) Page 5

  “And my martial arts classes?”

  “I’ll set it up,” Hammer said. “You’ve earned that much, not that I expect you to last a week.”

  I gave him my best steely glare.

  He grinned. “Fine, prove me wrong.”

  I would. That was the kind of person I wanted to be.

  I trudged to the closest elevator and pushed the button. The doors opened and I smelled stale sweat, fear, ozone, and burnt insulation. I stepped on and had the car take me to the TV lounge. As I stepped off, a half dozen heads turned my way, tracking me as I headed down the hall for my suite. After what had happened to Ryan and Elita, I’d been raised to celebrity status. Again.

  I entered my suite, my room, and froze in surprise. The room was as I’d left it with one glaring exception—yellow police tape adorned Jill’s desk, fending off any approach I might make. Apparently, after the elevator incident, she wasn’t taking any chances with her expensive gaming system.

  I sighed, disappointed. I hadn’t blown anything up by accident since I was four. I flopped onto my bed, closing my eyes, waiting for sleep to come. A little nap might put me right again. It worked for Sleeping Beauty. I smelled something foul.

  What the hell!

  I rolled over and jerked my pillow away.

  Underneath. Lay a cloth bag the size of my palm, with a drawstring mouth. I carefully opened it, dumping the contents onto my bed. There were shards of broken mirror, salt—sea salt by the smell of it—and russet hair that might have been gathered from my hairbrush. Strangest of all, there were three black stones the size of my finger tips, carved into dog heads. The mutts had tall, pointy ears and sharp muzzles.

  There was nothing in the bag to account for the stench that had first caught my attention.

  A shiver of cold hit. Pain followed, sharp and sudden. I gasped and grabbed my jacket sleeve. There were slashes in the tough fabric. Through a rent, I felt blood.

  The stench thickened.

  Double blows fell across my back, spinning me away. I fell against my desk chair and slid to the ground, scanning the room for any hint of what was attacking me.

  Two scents, maybe three … there’s definitely more than one attacker.

  Something leaped onto Jill’s dresser and scattered her pictures and other personal items. Unseen claws cut part of the yellow police tape, while small feet jumping up and down left impressions on Jill’s bedspread.

  I scrambled up, twisted, and latched onto my chair. I swung it toward my tormentors. I had an idea what they were from the carved stones, and the fact they attacked from the shadow realm. But if I guessing wrong and something worse waited for me… I hesitated.

  Something clubbed the chair aside, amputating a leg. Splinters fell to the carpet. I screamed as an unseen paw smacked my face, jarring my head so my thoughts swam out of focus. I touched my stinging cheek. My fingers came away wet, blood.

  Anger chased away fear. I crossed over. The tingle passed, taking some of the gravity with it. The blood on my hand became a charcoal slick, seen through the orange haze of my aura.

  My room held three pseudo-demons, imps formed by a spell-caster’s murderous intent. The size of chimpanzees—with canine features—they snarled, baring fangs. Their eyes were yellow stars. Real demons would have been surrounded by black-flame. These lacked such auras, carrying themselves upright, balancing with the aid of short, whip like tails.

  The closest one leaped, leaving himself wide open. I leaned and turned a little, punting him into the ceiling. He lost cohesion and thinned into black mist. The creature hadn’t realized I’d crossed over, and could now inflict serious damage. The other imps stilled in shock, but recovered quickly, one vaulting high while the other went low for my legs.

  I let them reach me, pouring my strength into my aura. I became a pyre. While my flames burned cold in the human world, in the shadow realm, they were devastating. The imps howled in terror and pain as their substance bubbled and features sloughed, flowing like wax in a blast furnace. They turned into sludgy shadow, seeping into the floor, vanishing.

  My anger remained. I trembled with it as I padded to the wall that separated my room from the outer hall. I ghosted through, but froze in place, remembering that I didn’t know the way to Elita’s room. I had to find her. Someone had used witchcraft to sic those things on me, and I was betting on her. If I didn’t stop this, my next visitation might be something I couldn’t handle.

  I started off again, heading for the TV lounge. If I had to haunt this floor as an unseen presence until she turned up, I would.

  Drew and Jill approached, absorbed in a conversation I couldn’t hear. They glowed softly, their auras blue and yellow. As they reached me, I pressed against the wall, giving them clearance. I could walk through inanimate matter, but not people. A light graze would shove me aside with a painful static shock.

  However, having to watch out for auras was a small price to pay for the advantage of playing spook. I wondered why demons didn’t have this problem.

  I went to the crowded lounge and glanced about for my target. No sign of her. But I spied her minion Ryan, filling his arms with snacks from the vending machine. Painted in the gray tones of the shadow realm he made only a slight impression. My gaze actually passed him a couple times, before recognition set in.

  He trudged past me, heading down the girls’ hall. I followed. This was perfect!

  He’d lead me to straight Elita. I’d never seen him with anyone else.

  Drew and Jill had been in our suite but had returned to the hall, jumping and waving in front of a hall cam to summon security. Why… Oh crap, the trashed room … the stuff on my bed… I might even have bled a little here and there. They had to think me the victim of foul play. I fought the impulse to cross over and reassure my friends. My business with Elita couldn’t wait.

  Ryan stared at Jill and Drew, pausing, handing Jill an envelope. I delayed long enough to see my name written on it. Another mystery. He went on to the end of the hall. I dogged his steps to the last door. He knocked. The door opened and Elita relieved him of his sodas and snacks. Glancing over his shoulder, she frowned.

  For a second, I thought she could see me.

  She pushed him back to enter the hallway and stared down to where Jill and Drew were being surrounded by security.

  An evil smile lit up her face, and I knew for sure she’d sent her inner demons after me. Silently gloating, she waved Ryan away, and closed the door on him.

  I stepped through the wall, going after her, lips tight across bared teeth, a growl low in my throat.

  SEVEN

  Blackout curtains were drawn in Elita’s room. Black candles—set in a ring in crystal holders—enclosed a red pentagram painted on a black throw rug. An open book lay on the floor, pages facedown; Witchcraft Made Easy. The snacks were scattered everywhere. Elita clawed at her throat where a black mist writhed. The eddies that attacked her possessed three pairs of eyes and clawed hands intent on slowly strangling her. She tottered on tip toes, gagging, gasping, and desperate to return to the protection of the pentagram. She should have stayed there until she’d banished what she’d called.

  Too stupid to live, I guess.

  I didn’t object in principle to what was happening, but I wanted to be the one doing the choking. Or did I? Seeing it done, my taste for vengeance began to evaporate.

  Damn, I know I’m going to regret this.

  I sprang closer and ripped at the cloud. Wet and oily tatters slipped through my fingers the way a real demon never would have. The cloudy hands remained, but the rest of the mist clotted to form coils. A cobra shape bared fangs, silently hissing midair. I concentrated on my hands, letting my aura flare brighter. Thick tongues of flame wagged up from my fingers. At this display, the smoky snake recoiled. I fanned my hand, sending a curling sheet of fire after the creature.

  The serpent sloughed its form, becoming mist again, as did the hands. The miasma shot away, passing through the curtains and the windows
beyond.

  Red faced, Elita gasped, drawing a deep breath. She dropped to her knees, shuddering.

  I crossed over, appearing in front of her.

  She rasped, “My curse, you turned it back on me. What are you?”

  It wasn’t anything I’d done. She just sucked at being a witch. I glared at her. “I’m asking the questions here. Let’s start with who’s after me, and why, and what they want.”

  “I’m not telling you anything!”

  I grinned. “I was hoping I’d have to beat it out of you.”

  She glared back. “You wouldn’t dare.

  I picked up a burning candle. Without warning, I shoved her down and sank my knee into her gut. I grabbed her throat. Melted black wax dribbled onto her shirt. I drew a large “B” for bitch. I’d wanted a reason to do something like this ever since reading The Scarlet Letter in English class.

  Trying to scream past my steely fingers, she flailed against the arm I pinned her with.

  “You hit like a girl,” I said.

  She chambered her fist to her ribs and threw her next punch like a real martial artist. The blow came in fast, but I thought it should have been faster. I shifted. Her fist glanced off my head, but I felt little pain. I felt invincible, as though rage were fueling my strength beyond normal levels. I picked up a crystal candle holder and squeezed it experimentally. The thing exploded into chunks, dribbling from my hand. Whoa, I’m bad!

  “You should stop,” I said. “I’m not used to being this strong. I could break you—permanently.”

  She froze, whining in terror.

  Nothing works better than a good bluff.

  The last tear of black, molten wax fell and I puffed the flame out, tossing the candle away. I put my face inches from hers. “Listen up, you ridiculous little snot. I’ve had it with you. You are going to be a good little girl from now on, understand?”

  She just stared.

  “Nod if you want to live.”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Mercy only goes so far. Next time, you won’t survive my irritation.” I pulled my hand from her throat, leaning back. “Do you believe me?”

  “Yes,” she answered in a strained voice, “but you got bigger things to worry about than me.” She coughed. “The others can take you easily, so you better not hurt me.”

  I thought of the porcelain-faced woman who’d tried to kidnap me when I first arrived. Was she a witch with a whole coven behind her? That would be formidable, but I couldn’t let Elita see me rattled.

  I smiled enigmatically and fondly thought of Tukka and what I’d once seen him do to a stray demon. “I have powerful friends myself. Okay, spill. Who’s the psycho chick out to get me?”

  Elita shrugged, her glance skittering over to her desk where a lap top sat, displaying an internet site called DARK ARTS. “I’ve only talked to her a few times on the internet.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “It’s true!” anger lent strength to her voice.

  “Tell me how to find her.”

  “I can’t. I really can’t; she’d kill me. Besides, I don’t know.”

  “Then find out,” I said. “You don’t want me coming back.”

  “Hell no!”

  I laughed quietly, scooped up a nearby Ding Dong, and stood up. Chocolate snack in hand—just tribute for the victor—I left the suite without a backward glance. I strolled to my suite, noticing that Jill and Drew had left the hall. I stopped in the doorway of my room. Security men were poring over everything. Jill had her computer on, peering at the screen anxiously. The envelope Ryan gave her for to me, she held loosely in her hand, all but forgotten. With the damage to the yellow police tape, she probably feared harm to her computer as well.

  Drew stood by my bed, watching the security guys gathering the items that had come from the pouch. His back to me, Hammer held my chair in one hand, the broken leg in the other. Another security guy swabbed a stain on the carpet. He held the swab under a special light where it glowed. “Blood,” he announced grimly.

  “Someone should have told me we were having a party,” I said.

  All eyes swung my way. Drew sprang across the room, wrapping arms around me, almost knocking me down. “Grace, you’re alive! And you brought me a present.” Letting go, she snatched the Ding Dong from my hand.

  Who’d she think she was? Tukka? I smiled. “Sorry, for making you worry.”

  Hammer calmly set the chair and its amputated leg down. He bore down on me, Jill close behind. “Just what went on here, Miss Kenyon?”

  “Preternatural attack,” I said, “invisible nasties.”

  He gripped my chin, turning my face to the side to study the scratches there.

  “Those match the slash marks on the furniture. The medicine bag also confirms your story. I’m inclined to believe you.”

  Jill’s voice spiked with wrath, “She’s telling the truth. I can tell.”

  Hammer let me go. “Any serious wounds?”

  “Not really.” I fingered the rents in my jacket. “But I do need to go shopping.”

  “Not anytime soon. We’re in total lockdown. No one leaves this building without my direct approval.” He pointed at my coat. “Leave it on the bed, evidence. You and Jill go to Drew’s room. Stay there. Take with you whatever you need for tomorrow. I’m bringing in specialists to check out this room. Until I say different, don’t come back in here.”

  “A Preternatural Response Team?” Drew asked innocently.

  Hammer glared. “Of course not. The government doesn’t have a covert multi-agency alliance dealing with paranormal and occult phenomenon. That’s just an urban myth—if anybody asks.” His face stayed deadpan, but he winked, telling us there was such a team, a secret that would have become obvious as soon as they arrived.

  I left my torn coat as requested, and got a jean jacket from the closet. Gathering stuff I’d need for the next day or two, I stuffed a small suitcase. Jill pulled a bag from her closet and headed for her dresser.

  “So when does the urban myth get here?” Drew asked.

  Hammer frowned in thought. “If we’re lucky, there’s a unit in our region.”

  I pulled open my desk drawer and scooped up two handfuls of chocolate. They went in my bag with my alarm clock and the brush on my nightstand. Other grooming items were already in the bathroom and lavatory. I headed for the door.

  Drew got there first, leading the way to her room.

  Jill brought up the rear, muttering under her breath, “…Such a bother.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “It’s all my fault.”

  “I’m pissed, but not at you, Grace. You didn’t ask to be targeted.”

  “I know, but I still feel guilty.”

  There was only one bed. No one shared Drew’s room with her. Messy was an understatement. I dislodged an empty pizza box from her desk chair, pulling the seat well away from her computer. The only place order reigned was the desktop with its pink-colored monitor, keyboard, and speakers. The plastic hardware matched her dyed hair.

  Must be her favorite color.

  There were plastic containers for paperclips, thumbtacks, and a mug holding pens and pencils. A family photo in a silver frame occupied one corner of the desk, next to a digital alarm clock. Apparently, she had three older brothers.

  The walls were decorated with movie posters: Ghost, From Dawn to Dusk, the Howling, The Mothman Prophecies… The last one caught my eye. The poster looked like a cross between a moth and an ink blot, with human eyes in the middle, staring back at me. The text said “based on true events.” I nodded. That’s right; there were multiple sightings for over a decade of the thing in West Virginia before it moved on. Bigfoot with wings.

  I turned to Drew who’d cleared a space on the bed where she hadn’t quite finished folding her laundry. She sat. Jill chose to stand, fists on hips, looking around with disdain, and perhaps a little fear; there was no telling what might crawl out from under assorted piles of clutter.

  “You fl
y, I’ll buy,” Drew said.

  “Like the sodas aren’t free.” Jill handed over the letter she’d been carrying.

  “You, stay put and out of trouble.” She turned a pointing finger on Drew. “As for you, clean this place before I get back or I’m calling the health department. If I’m going to be here for any length of time, I need it clean.”

  I saluted crisply.

  A beat behind, Drew copied my gesture.

  Jill left, and I watched a miracle—Drew got to work. She cleared the floor by tossing clutter under the bed or in the closet, closing the sliding door to hide the mess. With a mighty grunt, she folded the empty pizza box in half and wedged it in a very small trash can. Going beyond the call of duty, she even straightened her nightstand, bringing to bear a kind of instinctive feng shui so nothing touched anything else, the spaces between all equal.

  She made no effort at folding and stacking the laundry, putting the task aside as Jill returned with an assortment of drinks.

  I’d waited to open the letter until Jill returned. Since whatever concerned me also impacted the girls, I decided not to keep secrets from them any longer. I tore off the envelope’s edge. Drew and Jill gave me their full attention as I pulled out a typed sheet of paper, unfolding it.

  “So, what does Ryan want with you?” Drew asked.

  I scanned the letter twice, making sure I understood it. “He wants to opt out of any further trouble with me, and he’s getting tired of Elita’s crap. He says he knows something I ought to hear, wants to meet me on the roof.”

  “Gotta be a trap,” Jill said. “Elita’s got him in a death grip. No way would he give her up.”

  Drew nodded emphatically. “She’s got something on him, always has.”

  “I’m supposed to come alone,” I said.

  Drew scowled. “Not in this lifetime! We’re going to be in the stairwell. First sign of something underhanded, we’re crashing the party.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can handle Ryan myself,” I said. “It’s not likely he’s going to whip out a machine gun and mow me down. Besides, I want you guys to keep an eye on what’s going on around here, especially if that response team rolls in.”