Destiny's Child (Kitsune series Book 3) (41 page)

“I think so.  I don’t feel like death-warmed-over anymore.”  I switched my gaze to Cassie.  “My aura—?”

“Your
chakra
centers are clean and unblocked.  Your lifeforce is flowing properly again.  How did you do it?”

I shrugged.  “I just refused to settle for anything less.  Hey, it’s mean to throw a party while I’m stretched out unconscious.  What’s with all this?”  I pushed up. 

Cassie helped me to sit. 

Fenn took over, turning and propping me in front of him.  I leaned back into his warmth.  His arms braced me.  It occurred to me that a winter garden party should be colder than this.  None of the guests seemed the least bit cold.  Many of them had shed jackets.  “What’s with the warm weather?” I asked.

Cassie’s stare shot across the yard to where Virgil and Janet d’Arc held court with some federal marshals and a bunch of the PRT guys I worked with.  “You can thank them.  It’s a spell of some kind.”

“An inversion of entropy I think,” Fenn said.

I noticed Van Helsing was closer to the main house, operating the biggest grill I’d ever seen.  There were nearly twenty slayers mixing about, most of the guys gathered around Jill and Drew.  My girlfriends were flirting shamelessly, not yet aware I was awake.  There were a few more people from HPI where I lived.  Ms. Griffin, the director, was having an animated conversation with some kid I didn’t know.  His back was to me and his long, silver hair spilled halfway down his back.  He turned to meet my eyes and I saw he’d donned an eye patch for the occasion. 

Argent!  He’s still around?

I hadn’t been able to shake the stray fox.  I guess the attraction was the free food.  He couldn’t have had it easy in the Hysane slave pens.

He smiled and turned back to Ms. Griffin. 

Shifting my gaze, I saw Tukka and some of our fu dog hommies deep in a conversation with women in silken robes.  One of the gals looked very familiar.  I ran backwards through my memory and soon placed her: the priestess in that mysterious temple where I’d danced after my date with Wocky, may he rest in peace.

This was the woman who’d tried to frighten m
e away with a hand mirror.  It still hung around her neck.

As if feeling the impact of my eyes, she turned.  Seeing me sitting up, her face brightened with eagerness.  She said something to her companions and hurried closer, Tukka a few steps behind her. 

Van Helsing called out that burgers and hot dogs were ready.

Tukka veered away, no doubt wanting to know if real dog was being served.

“She’s the reason for the party,” Cassie said.  “She and her people claim to have come to rescue you.”

“I save myself these days,” I muttered.

The priestess circled Cassie and took up a standing position at my feet, staring down at me with disturbing intensity.  “The demon smell is off you now.”  She spoke English.  One of these days, I was going to figure out why English was so popular in other dimensions—but not today.  Today, we were having a party.

Under her interested stare, I felt compelled to answer.  “Uh, yeah.  Demon mark.  Got rid of it finally.”

The woman nodded, a small smile twisting her lips.  “Demon scum can be most annoying at times.  I’m sorry I mistook you for one.”

“It’s all right, but how did you track me down.  I didn’t even think you’d been able to see me.”

The woman crouched down with the fluid ease of someone used to serious physical training.  “I didn’t see you—directly.  Here, see for yourself.”  She removed her mirror and held it out so I could look into the reflective surface.  At first, I only saw my face.  Then the glass misted up and an image played like on a miniature TV.  I saw myself, in her temple, dancing like a crazy person without a care.

Looking over my shoulder, Fenn laughed, but quickly smothered it lest I take offense.

“Oh, let me see!” Cassie reached out and grabbed the mirror, turning the glass.  She laughed too, and kept right on with no regard for my feelings.  “Oh, child, do you have some interesting, uh, moves.”

“Don’t mock me!” I warned.  “I stomped all over the Hysane, ran of the witches of
ISIS, ate an immortal demon for lunch, and killed off a Japanese nature spirit.” 
With help from Michiko.
“I am fearsome, a force to be reckoned with.”

Cassie handed the mirror back to the priestess, while looking at me with a hint of a smile still in place.  “Yes, dear, but your fox’s grace certainly didn’t carry over to your human form.”

“Maybe I wasn’t really trying.”

“It’s all right,” the priestess said.  “No one needs to apologize for a joyful spirit, not in the Celestial House of Joy.”

“That’s what that place is?” I said.

Fran passed by, handing Fenn an orange soda.  He nodded his thanks and pulled the ring on top, taking a sip.

The priestess nodded.  “We celebrate life with frequent bouts of strenuous dance, and sex, when not tending our gardens or running the Woman’s Clinic.”

Fenn choked on his soda, spitting a little out.

Celestial House of Joy
, I thought that name sounded a little like a brothel. 

The priestess hung her mirror back over her neck.  Her smile widened.  “Should you ever need a place of refuge, or desire to follow a calling such as ours—”

My eyes grew huge.  “I’ll, uh, let you know.”

“Good.”  She stood and wandered away.

I noticed Maddy and her mom over by the koi pond.  They weren’t exactly buddy-buddy, but they were at least talking.  I felt good about that.

Tukka came up.  He had a smear of ketchup and mustard on his chin.

“Enjoying yourself,” I asked.

Tukka party animal.

I couldn’t resist teasing him to take the attention off me.  “I saw you guzzling the hot dogs.  Leave any for anyone else?”

Tukka dropped his head and stage-whispered a thought straight into my head,
It’s okay, Grace, they’re not real dogs.

“No,” Fenn said, “It’s not like the cooks are mothmen.”

My fu dog growled. 
Tukka hate mothmen with undying passion.  Tukka will never let them get Grace.

“Yeah, I guess all is right with the world again.” 
At least for now.

The party was a blast, lasting until midnight.  Drew and Jill escorted me home and changed me into sleepwear.  I’d had too much spiked punch at the party so they’d assumed responsibility for tucking me into bed.  The cat I’d rescued from a house fire was staying in the next room with Jill.  They’d grown close, adopting each other.  I pretended that it didn’t hurt to be abandoned—
Furry little ingrate!—a
nd waited for sleep to overtake me. 
Gotta remember; one last thing I need to do.  Jus’ hope Tukka and the pack remember to show up.

I yawned hugely and closed my eyes on the gloom in my room.  The wondrous softness of my bed felt like lying on a cloud.  I soon slid into the dark embrace of sleep.

*     *     *

My old friend Evil had lasted the longest of those we’d chased down
in this communal dream.  She’d dreamed up a machine pistol, emptying clip after clip into me and Tukka until the barrel was red-hot.  Exhausted, she’d tried hiding in an abandoned refrigerator.  Tukka and his fu dog followers had darn near stomped that sucker flat.  The five-pound dump rats had scattered at the racket, coming back to fed as we moved.

Missy still had her china doll look going for her.  At odds with her beauty was the terror shining in her cobalt eyes as she passed one of the many bonfires scattered about.  In the liquid shadows of this nightmare, her brassy gold hair had a green tinge. 
She bit her lips in panic, the cherry lip gloss long gone.  Missy had the air of a toy about to break.  Her boobs heaved as she ran through the endless night, over hills of debris.  Wearing a ceremonial robe of midnight blue with an eight-pointed, gold star on it, she was the last of the witches of ISIS to feel my shadow-fox wrath. 

I’d saved her for dessert.

She slid down a hill, broken lamps, appliances, and less identifiable objects skidded along with her.  Her robes were heavily stained by now, as filthy as her soul.

Tukka and the boys hung back as I went in.  I wore a fox shape made of shadow.  My antennae bobbed as I loped toward her, my wings all aflutter.  Orange foxfire curled around my ankles, lifting me into the air so I could run on the foul, shrieking wind.  A haze of light hung off my face.  My eyes glowed, a brilliant, scary yellow, as the monstrous red moon overhead smeared blood across my darkness. 

Missy backed into a lumpy sofa with ripped upholstery.

I slowed my advance, showing her my rather sharp teeth.

How do you like me now!

“What do you want from me?” she screamed.

“Your strict attention.  You will never again touch me or what is mine.  This dream can come back any time, tearing you down, pouring fear into your heart until it bursts.  Leave me alone, or else!”

Her right arm bleeding from a deep cut,
Missy nodded agreement so vehemently; it looked like her head was going to fall off.

I smiled.  My
work here was done. 

I
left her under a bleeding moon as the rats closed in.