Destiny's Child (Kitsune series Book 3) (11 page)

I didn’t want to think too much about where those stains had come from.

Vanessa intoned, “Oh, Daughter of Isis—”

Interrupting, Missy held up the back of her hand, commanding silence.  Her voice sounded as sweetly pleasant as ever, “Put her on the altar.  Her lifeforce should level me up quite a bit.”

TEN

“Open doors have a price.

Promises can’t pay the toll.

Charon waits for his coin,

To ferry every wand’ring soul.”

                                                         —Open Doors

                             
                                Elektra Blue

I let them pull me up from the wheelchair and staggered a little, feigning weakness, hanging heavily onto Vanessa.  “Sorry,” I muttered.

“Yeah, yeah,” she gritted out.

I spun a knee into her gut, wincing at a twinge in my side that warned me I was close to ripping stitches.  Necessity made me ignore the warning, swinging Vanessa around, throwing her into the feet of several more of the witch girls.  I ran to the closest smoking brazier, putting it between me and the rest of those coming after me.

“Get her under control,” Missy shouted.

I jumped up flat-footed and kicked the side of the brazier, a move I’d learned from Shaun.  I landed as the brazier crashed, spilling red coals across the floor.  Someone ran for a fire extinguisher.  I’d been banged in the head a number of times, attacked by an MRI that had drained my aura, and was still recovering from being shot and operated on.  My edge was gone, but I was a trained runner, a high school athlete.  I was used to pushing myself right to the limit. 

Attitude.  Just gotta get snarly and mad-fox mean.
  No way is anyone chaining me to an altar so they can carve me into tender vittles.

I cast a fast glance across the huge space, looking for a door other than the one I came in through.  Now that the statue of
Isis was out of the way, I saw a door, but I still had to get past Missy, the candy-striper from hell.  I ran, pushing for speed, willing my shaky endurance to hold out.

Missy threw off her robe, showing she’d changed into jeans and a turquoise sweater.  She didn’t seem to be armed with a handgun or machine pistol, but there was an obsidian knife in her right hand.  She stabbed the air in my direction and screeched, “Don’t let her get away!”

I shot past Missy, who didn’t seem interested in working up a sweat chasing me down. 

Too reliant on evil minions
.

I was two-thirds of the way to the door when it burst inward.  A fresh mass of ISIS bad
girls rushed in and charged me.  I wondered if Missy had had some kind of panic button she’d set off. 

Well, just gotta keep pushing until I break through.
I played the only trick I had that was still in working order. 
Taliesina, I need you.

The shadows in the back of my mind stirred as something moved.  Golden eyes snapped open, staring at me. 
Say please
.

I swerved from the incoming horde. 
No games
, I told her. 
If they cut out my heart, they cut out your heart, too.

You’ve got a point
.  In my head, she came close enough for her eyes to become great golden suns swallowing all of my thoughts.  Heat melted my bones as I ran and slipped free of the hospital gown.  My skin prickled, darkening with fur.  My face changed shape, acquiring a snout as my ears meandered to the top of my head.  I tripped off two feet as my leg bones reformed.  I smacked the floor, catching myself with hands that blurred into front paws as I watched.  Scrambling up, I pumped hind legs for greater speed, whipping several new-grown tails in my wake, absorbing a burst of new sensory input from the new limbs.  Fresh energy surged through me, which was good ‘cause I sure needed it. 

One oddity puzzled me
: you’d think massive physiological changes ought to hurt, but the transition actually felt good, washing away fatigue, swallowing the post-operative pain I’d been feeling.  The world seemed bigger, but I knew I’d gotten smaller, losing mass in a way physics said wasn’t possible.  But this wasn’t the time for introspection.

Time to get crazy!

I plunged straight back at the women I’d been running from, under the theory that I’d be safer close in since they wouldn’t risk shooting and taking each other out.  That would have been fun.  I didn’t think they’d try too hard to get hold of me.  Catching a snarky-but-cute teenager is less dangerous than a critter with jaws and claws and a willingness to use them.

They saw me coming as a fox and a large part of them skittered to a stop, realizing that they’d just become prey.  The rest slowed, pulling weapons.

I got this
, Taliesina said.

Sure
. 

She was the kitsune part of my double nature, with all the built-in instincts for using this body.  It was better to go along for the ride and not get in her way.  Relaxing, I watched myself zig, zag, leap, skid, and tumble through the midst of women, my claws slashing at tender flesh, my teeth nipping here and there so several squeals and shrieks went up behind me.  Now, women were shooing me off and kicking at me.  Someone’s gun accidentally discharged and I saw a woman go down hard with half her face gone due to exit wounds.  As a fox I was color blind, unable to see red.  Her blood appeared as black ink to me.

Suddenly, this wasn’t quite so much fun. 

I burst from the crowd, heading straight for the open door.  Accelerating, I leaped through with reckless abandon
.

S
traight into Evelyn and her taser.

Crackle!

I hit Evelyn in the chest, all paws cycling.  My hind feet ripped into her shirt.  Her arm came up to shield her face, and I chomped gleefully on her wrist.  The fun was back because I owed this bitch.  The weight of my body and her flailing sprawled us across pink-gray carpeting. Belatedly, I realized that my fox form hadn’t felt the buzz from her wand.  I’d simply soaked up the energy like a tasty snack. 

Go, Team Me!

Like a writhing worm, Evelyn curled in on herself and, unlike a worm, slammed her boot into my head, rocking it.  A cloud of pain devoured my thoughts.  Grimly, I held on, trying to bite even harder if possible.  I had never before considered myself a vengeful person, but Evelyn—or Evil, as Missy called her—was top name on my To-Hurt-Bad List.

  The boot came again.  And again.  By then, I was half out, but my teeth were digging deep, grating on bone.  My mushy brain clung to enough reason to recognize the combat knife she pulled from a boot sheath, coming at my throat.  I released her wrist and flipped away, leaving Evil to stab the rug where I’d just been.  She’d forgotten that Missy wanted to be the one to bathe in my blood, or Evil didn’t care anymore. 

Taliesina got my hind feet moving, sending me on a wild run for another exit. 
We run now
, I was told,
and live to kick ass another day.

Fine by me
.

We blew past an unattended receptionist desk and a little lobby, and there was daylight, an open door with fresh, cold November air blowing in.  Coming in from outside was one of the lesser witches of
ISIS.  She froze on the threshold, blinking at me in surprise. 

Evelyn called from behind me, “Don’t let that fox get out!”

Hah!  Too late
. 

I threw myself between the witch’s legs, going for broke, and almost broke my neck hitting a wall that wasn’t there, wasn’t visible anyway.  My snout dropped to the floor.  I pushed up on trembling legs, wobbly, eyes needing a second to clear, and saw obscure magical symbols engraved on the threshold.  I’d hit a barrier designed to guard the property.

I am so cursed
. 
Why does everyone and their brother-in-law’s cousin’s dog have these stupid things?

The gal standing over me pivoted and dropped her full weight on me, pinning my head to the floor with a leg across my neck.  There was nothing my teeth or claws could reach.  My three tails beat the floor in frustration.  I couldn’t move.  And the witch wasn’t done.  She jabbed a taser wand into me.  It went
crackle,
but my kitsune body drank the charge, draining the battery of life.

Take that
.  Petty, I know, but I was taking my victories in small doses wherever I could find them.

And to make things so much better, Evil stomped over with a gooseneck table lamp in one hand and beat me across the head with it until blackness threatened to close in. 
Why always the head?  Can’t someone pick another spot?  I’m not going to have a working brain cell left if this keeps up.

“Stop!”  It was Missy’s prissy voice, thick with annoyance.  “I can’t kill her if you finish her off.”

I laughed grimly to myself.
  Oh, good, I’m saved
.

Evil used the lamp cord and somebody’s belt to tie my paws.  Grabbing the scruff of my neck, she picked me off the carpet and all but
frog-marched me back to the big room with the statue and altar.  I wondered if Isis had gotten tired of waiting.  If they wanted to skip the whole cutting-out-my-heart thing, I’d have understood.

I was slammed onto the altar and held there by many helpful hands.  The girls’ mingled fragrances made a perfume hash that had me at the edge of sneezing. 

Chains rattled.  I heard Vanessa pop a bubble in her gum.  She said, “Chains aren’t going to work on a fox.”

Missy said, “Just hold her until I finish the chant and get the knife in.”

I’d had more time to recover from the MRI disaster, had drunk two tasers of electric juice, and had shape-shifted to fox to further strengthen my system.  There was a chance I could now
cross over
to the ghost realm long enough to save myself.

Missy shouted, “Bring the drugged incense over.  We don’t want her ghosting off on us.”

Crap!

Someone held it near my face, fanning blue smoke in my
eyes.  I tried to tug the veil. It slipped from my mental grip somehow.  My heart pounded in my chest.  I seemed to hear it very clearly, or was that my pulse in my ears?

Thunder filled the space and the hands holding me jumped in response, coming right back before I could take advantage of the momentary freedom—though with tied paws, I couldn’t have done much.  Maybe bitch-slap a few people with my tails.  The thunder thinned into a high pitched, female voice that could never have come from a human throat, “Stop!  This one is mine.  I have come to claim her myself.”

Huh?

A sour lemon light washed into my eyes, and suddenly everyone was backing away from the altar.  Missy craned her neck, looking up at the statue.  I squirmed to see better myself.  The light spilled from the eyes of the statue.  As if Isis had possessed it, the stone figure leaned over me, peering down with interest.  Her stiff lips flowed into a smile.

Now that’s just wrong
.  I’d been in many churches in my time, some of them with statues, and those had never so much as waved.  Of course, they’d never tried to kill me either.  Maybe I’d been lucky.

Missy skirted the altar, moving off with her suddenly terrified flock.  I guess the things people worship aren’t supposed to answer
, becoming all too real.

The statue froze, as if sensing rejection.  At ground level, a line of light made a rectangle in the stone folds of the robes, outlining a person-sized block of stone.  The line brightened.  The block vanished, becoming a door to another world.  Harsh yellow sunlight poured in from desert country.  A hot wind gusted in carrying the scent of sage, baked earth, and the stink of creosote bushes.  A female shadow filled the doorway.  The shadow walked through to our world, up to the altar.

It was Isis, human-sized, same hooded cloak, a full moon in one hand, a crescent moon in the other.  The stupid incense smoke had blown away, but was back in my face again, deadening my sense of smell.  The cloaked woman tossed the moons into the air.  They hung there a second, then faded to nothing.  I was scooped up by the woman, cradled against her chest.  She held me gently.  I stared into her hood, looking for details of her face.

Her smile widened.  Without a word, she turned with me and headed back to that doorway to elsewhere.  Since it didn’t look like I was getting a knife stuck in me any time soon, and anywhere else was better than here, I didn’t struggle.  We passed into the base of the statue, through it.  Heat slapped me like a wave off a blast furnace.  The sage and creosote smell was back. There seemed to be a lot of boulders around.  And not much else. 
Isis turned.  I expected to see the backside of the statue, but it was gone, along with the door to my world.

So, where the hell is this?

Taliesina gave me a foxy shrug, her golden eyes moving off into my inner shadows. 
Let me know when you get this figured out.

Hummmph, you’re a lotta help.

Isis knelt and put me on the hot ground, prying at my bindings.  Soon, I was free, and a trillion miles from home.  On all four feet, shaking out my tails, I looked up at Isis, wondering what was coming next.  She met my gaze steadily, a bit of yellow light making ghostly coins out of her eyes. 

“So, Grace, we meet again.”

I simply stared. 
Again?

“Ah, of course you wouldn’t remember me like this.”  As she spoke, her voice deepened, growing masculine.  The robes darkened, writhing over her like rogue shadows.  Height and bodily proportions altered as the rest became male as well.  He stood, a dark-haired man in a coal-black suit.  Familiar sulfur yellow eyes burned, fixed on me with eager attention.  A small, mischievous smile twisted his lips.  He played with a silver cross on a long chain, treating it with little respect.

Coyote.  Raven.  The Trickster.
  It was Fenn’s dad.
 
His preferred alias leaped from memory.  Father Vincentia, allegedly a special agent for the Vatican.  One thing was sure: saving me wasn’t a matter of altruism.  Eventually, he’d present a bill for his services. 

ELEVEN

“Branded with a clinging heat,

pain and need have one face.

Spit me up and chew me out,

but get me outta this place.”

                       
                                 —Bed of Coals

                           
                                 Elektra Blue

I had things I needed to say, needed to know, and Trickster was the dude to tell me.  One hitch, I was a fox, a naked fox under my fur.  I had no clothes to cover me if I turned back into a sixteen-year-old human girl.  There might be lots of shape-shifters, werewolves, and such that don’t mind parading around in the altogether—but I wasn’t one of them.  I could count the times I’d shifted to fox on one hand.  Besides, it looked like wherever we’d be going, it would be on foot over rough country.  As a fox, I had tough pads on my paws.  As a human, I had runners’ calluses that would be no match for sharp rock, cactus, scorpions—and who knew what—that might be lurking about.

“So,” Trickster asked, “how long are you going to stay that way?”

I shot him a dirty look. 
Pervert
. 

“What?” he said.

I lashed my tails in irritation.

His face lit up with understanding.  “Ah, you don’t have the skin-walker’s mentality, do you?  Trust me, kid, I’ve seen it before.  I won’t be shocked.”

I added a growl, letting it hang low in my throat. 

He sighed.  “Fine, I’ve got a camp just over that rise.”  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at a lump that wanted to be a hill when it grew up.  “I think I can turn up something that will fit you.”

I stopped growling. 

He took that as agreement, turning his back to lead the way.  Such an irritating guy, three-piece black suit and not a drop of sweat on his thin, angular face.  He whistled a jaunty tune that seemed familiar.  I ran it through the vast collection of songs stored in my memory for my morning runs, and soon identified the melody of
My Heart Will Go On
from the Titanic movie.  Ironic in that there probably wasn’t a body of water within a hundred miles.

I padded up the rise, pausing at the top to stare down at a couple of canvas-covered wagons that might have rolled out of the Old West.  Under
the shade of a bright blue silk canopy, a small fire danced within a circle of rocks.  A grill lay on top, supporting a pot of … I took a deep whiff …
very burnt coffee
.  The breeze fluttering up the bank also brought a delicious, mouth-watering scent. 
Peach cobbler, yum.
 
Okay, I’m prepared to forgive him for not sweating. 
Taliesina was back, golden eyes twinkling in the shadows of my mind.  She said
, Double yum. 
We hadn’t been getting along so well recently, but we were in perfect agreement now.

Trickster tromped down the backside of the rise with me hot on his heels.  In the shade of a lone mesquite tree, four sleek, well-fed horses whinnied a greeting to us.  Trickster told them, “See, told you I wouldn’t be long.”  He went on to the back of the farthest wagon, climbing inside.  Short as I was, I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I heard definite sounds of rummaging.  In a minute, he came back into view, a black cowboy hat on his head.  Looking down from the back of the wagon, he draped a yellow-white cotton sundress over what would be the tailgate on a more modern vehicle.  He propped up a rice-paper parasol with hand-painted cranes on it, and held up a pair of moccasin boots with fringed cuffs.  “Anything else you need, just look.  You’re likely to find anything in here, and I do mean anything.  I love my creature comforts.”

He climbed out, and jumped, landing beside me.  “I’ll be over at the fire, having a bite to eat.  Come join me when you’re decent.”  He strolled off, whistling that Titanic song again.

 
When I’m decent?  I’m always decent, just not always dressed.  But I can fix that now.