Destiny's Child (Kitsune series Book 3) (34 page)

What was that light?  Too much to swallow—ever.  Too much to possess.  But I felt so much!

I stopped and lifted my face.  “You can only have all that by accepting me, by living with me.  If you eat me, it’s gone forever.  Share my life, and I will fill you.”

The darkness shivered on the edge of possibilities.  A long silence passed.  Then my shadow self said,
Fill me again.  Wound me over and over.

The darkness thinned to gray murk as it coalesced, forming an obsidian core shaped like me.  She was a polished jet statue, glossy, with vague features and stiff, chiseled hair.  She opened her arms as I drew near. 

I walked into her embrace, wrapping my arms around—myself.  Eyes closing, we fused, sinking into one another, turning until two astral bodies were one in every way.

I opened my eyes.

THIRTY-FOUR

Beyond the ashes of a dream,

where night explodes to day
.

D
ragons worm thru beds of rock

with
beguiling games to  play.

                                                     —Ballad of the Shadow Fox

   
                                        Tukka

I floated on a miniature island of rock, down a molten-rock river of yellow and red.  Heat caged me.  I choked in harsh fumes that I hoped wouldn’t kill me, or corrode my lungs.  I was back in human form, both kitsune and shadow elements hidden.  Unfortunately I still had antennae on my forehead and baby moth wings on my back.  And I’d left my clothes on another world.

I c
oughed, wishing I had a damp cloth to filter the air I breathed.  The bludgeoning scents were so strong my nose was numb, useless.

I was in a vast tunnel.  The lava glow painted everything orangey-red.  The curved walls had windows, doorways, balconies, and cut-out rooms scooped from the rock.  But I saw no people, none of the Hysane. 

After a while, the island jarred, running aground on a sort of ramp.  I was glad I was already lying down so I didn’t topple over like a bowling pin.  Ahead, the rock offered a red curtain bracketed by marble columns.  I couldn’t see what the heck I was walking into, but pulled myself up and hurried off the island as it crumbled. 

Fine, fine, I’m coming.

The granite was surprisingly smooth, easy on my bare feet.  Now that I thought about it, the island’s surface had been the same way, nothing to scrape my tender flesh.  Such consideration from my hosts was highly suspicious.  There couldn’t be a good reason why they wanted me in ideal shape.

Oh, yeah, that’s right.  These people have gladiatorial games.
  Always a right time and place for bloodshed.

I pushed the middle-spit curtain aside and found a
triangular gap four feet deep.  Once I stepped inside it, the way back closed behind me.  I could hear a sea-sound, the murmur of an incredible number of voices.

My adoring public, all waiting to see me.  Naked.  I think not.

I grabbed one of the curtains before me and yanked hard, staying behind the other one.  I made a kind of toga out of the cloth, instantly feeling better, though I could have used some panties as well, and maybe a pair of sneakers.  I drew a deep breath and pushed on through.

Hard, glaring sunlight blinded me as I walked out on heated white sand that made me hop along faster.  Adjusting to the glare, I realized I was in a ten-deck coliseum that put to shame anything
Rome had ever built.  This was at least Super Bowl sized.  Maybe bigger.  The Hysane lizard folk filled the seats, dusky violet, and pumpkin-headed.  I trotted toward a section that contained private boxes.  These would be the bozos running the circus, the upper crust of local society.

One box was framed by red curtains and white marble pillars.  Inside, a platinum throne was occupied by a guy who was sumo wrestler big, only he had none of the underlying muscle of such athletes.  If he could actually get up and walk, I’d be hugely surprised. 
Pun intended.  He wore an outfit made up of delicate gold chains and a crown that sported a blue diamond like a third eye.  Fanned wings shot off from the sides of the crown.  He had a sort of weary boredom on his face, allowing a scantily-clad slave girl in ugly iron chains to plop small pieces of fruit into his gaping mouth.  He reminded me somehow of a big-mouth bass, only not as pretty.  Another slave girl went around the lesser chairs in the booth, pouring wine into people’s jeweled goblets.

On the mortal side of the veil, my baby moth wings weren’t strong enough to lift me.  I could only
hop from one foot to another, turning around, shielding my eyes, wishing for a pair of cool shades to complete my look.  The sand was discolored in places where blood or something had been raked over.  All the seating was elevated fifteen feet above the sand.  On my level, I was surrounded by smooth, gray wall.  The opening I’d come through was gone.  I expected that when a new opening formed, I’d meet my opponent, whoever or whatever it turned out to be.

A dark hole irised open.  A warrior in bronze armor stepped onto the sand.  He held a shield with a saw-tooth edge, and a short, straight sword that any Roman legionnaire might have used.  His helmet was less historical, a sort of bubble of metal that framed his face.  He snarled, heading for me at a fast trot.  I was still bouncing up and down on the hot sand, eyeing his leather sandals with envy.

Allow me, mistress
.  The thought in my head was liquid cool, a gentle murmur from my shadow self.  Black shadow coated my feet like socks, bringing blessed relief from the heat.  The darkness was feeding on the heat, pulling it into endless emptiness.

I checked in on the shadows at the back of my mind and found a charcoal version of Taliesina’s fox form.  She still had her golden eyes.  Instead of a whole moth, she just had moth wings jutting from her back.  All my other elements had fused into one image—the shadow fox of legend, I supposed, only pint-sized this time.

The trotting warrior was getting close, coming on like a runaway train.  Going into this world’s ghost realm offered an advantage, but the thought of tens of thousands of lingering ghosts—soured by dying in these games—dissuaded me.  One opponent was enough.  I let him get almost into sword range, and threw a handful of foxfire into his eyes.  My cold, aura flame wasn’t dangerous to most living beings in the mortal realm, but he didn’t know that. 

Startled, he batted at the fire, and skidded aside, taking up a slow, circular orbit around me.  His eyes were wary, slitted against the glare off the surrounding sand.  And he definitely wasn’t Hysane. 
He might have come from earth, except for the tusks that protruded from his lower jaw.  And now that he was so close, I noticed he had an extra finger on each hand.

I turned with him, but also made a point of spiraling away so he had to keep closing on me. 

Baring yellow teeth, he snarled, and lunged several steps.  On the last step, he sprang into the air, sword slashing.

I reversed direction and dived under him, rolling sideways, and coming up to my feet, my body lightly coated with hot sand.  I poured shadow into my palm, letting it lengthen into a shadow blade at the core of kitsune fire.  He’d felt my fire and knew it was cold, no danger at all.  I smiled. 
Keep thinking that
. 
Don’t wonder about the shadow inside the flame.

It was funny, just weeks ago, I’d have been in a dither about killing someone trying to kill me.

Motherella’s flat voice echoed in my mind’s inner shadows. 
Squeamishness is stupid. 

My shadow self said,
Kill him.

I didn’t need the advice.  My blade telescoped, punching through his unarmored throat.  He seized up, muscles locking.  Frost formed on his body.  Then cracks.  He shattered and fell in chunks and rolled on the sand, quickly losing inertia.  My sword compressed, becoming a dagger that I held at my side.

The crowd was silent, stunned.  Then it roared.  Arms waved in excitement.  Many of the Hysane leaped to their feet, tails flailing dangerously, causing more than a few brawls to erupt in the stands. 

Apparently, I
’m a hit.

A couple of slaves appeared in simple tunics, one of them toting a rake.  The smaller slave had scrawny limbs, a limp, and seemed to have missed quite a few meals.  The other was dull eyed, extra-wide, and had a gray beard with brown edges.  They shambled quickly across the sand.  Extra-wide grabbed my dead opponent by the ankles and dragged him off while Scrawny raked sand over the fresh blood to reduce the slipping-around factor.  I wondered why they bothered.  Wouldn’t it be highly entertaining if a fighter went down on his butt at a crucial moment because he hadn’t watched where he was going?  Of course, no one asked me.

Their work done, the slaves retreated into the surrounding wall to wait for the end of the next battle.  No one appeared to lead me off.  The earth didn’t rise up to sweep me out of the arena.  I took this to mean that I was going to reprise my act.  Well, I had other ideas.

I walked toward the box where the head Hysane lounged in barbaric comfort.  I got as close as I could and stood there, staring up at him until he noticed my stare.  He set down a jeweled cup on the massive arm of his throne and leaned forward, his man-boobs bouncing a little.  He blinked little piggy eyes at me.

I raised my dagger and poured both shadow and fire into it.  The knife became a sword.  Like a living thing, the blade leaped in a frenzied spurt of growth, covering the distance remaining between us.  The wall in front of the emperor jutted up to intercept my attack.  I willed my blade to become a round shaft and sent it spinning like a drill bit.  My weapon punched through the wall, covering several more feet.  I wished I could have seen the effect, but the wall was in the way.  After a moment, I pulled the sword back into a dagger again.

My action caused a wave of silence to flow across the stands.  In that silence, I shouted, “Hey, Gutless-Wonder, why don’t you come down here and prove you can do something except sit on your ass?”

A mound of earth welled up under me, rippling with a hard jerk that sent me flying back.  I clutched my toga as I tumbled, preserving my modesty as I fell to the hot sands.  Other bumps formed, tossing me like a storm-whipped sea.  I rode out the agitation, then picked myself up. 

I saw that the wall had dropped in the royal box.  Gutless was still on his throne.  There was a hole in the backrest behind his head.  He’d done some fast scrambling to still be alive.  There were also several new guards in the box standing near him.

The crowd went wild, showing little respect for their emperor’s abused dignity.  I thought it was time for them to get a taste of abuse as well.  As I walked to the center of the arena, I formed as second dagger in my left hand.  The orange flames around the shadow blades whipped as if windblown, but the air was still.  I lifted my arm out to my sides.  Both daggers became swords. 

I remembered the sword I’d seen in Van Helsing’s office, the weapon that had looked like a meat cleaver on steroids.  I used it as a pattern for my shadow-fire, bringing both swords together, merging them into a new weapon.  If the blade had been actual metal, I could not have handled it, but little strength was required for
the sword.  It floated on the air as if supporting itself.   

I felt the darkness in me winding in a tight coil of anticipation.

Greedy, aren’t you?
I asked.

Yes, Mistress
.

Hmmm
.  It was interesting to be addressed like a dominatrix, but perhaps it set a bad example.  I wasn’t intent on dominating my other aspects; I just wanted them to be a little less unruly. 
Or else.

Shifting my awareness from the shadow side of me, I let Motherella’s insect pragmatism dampen my qualms about mass murder.  I lifted my sword into the air in an act of defiance.  Taliesina highjacked my voice for a moment, and I found myself unleashing that stupid battle cry, “Metamoriffic!”

The coiled darkness in me sprung up through my body, a torrent of ice and a scream of nothingness that filled my blade—like lightning gathered by a lightning rod—before blasting heavenward.  If light could shine black, I was a lighthouse blasting into space.  I shoved more and more darkness out of me until the shadow-force expanded sideways from the blade, widening into a column that swallowed my whole body.  The draining surge continued long past the point where I thought I ought to run empty, and then it suddenly winked out.