Bone Walker (16 page)

Oh, she was a three-tail, all right.

His consternation must have shown on his face, for Carson was suddenly close in at his side, taking him by the shoulder, studying him hard. “What is it?”

“The
nogitsune
. I can feel them.” Jake met his partner's eyes, and the starkness of his own words filled him with disquiet. “Especially their leader. Carson, I can't take her. I have only one tail. She has three.” Then he glanced at Melisanda. “I don't know where that puts her by Sidhe standards. When it comes to Sidhe mages, I only know Kendis.”

The Seelie frowned. “Miss Thompson and Warder MacSimidh were hard-pressed to contest her. I'm no mage… but perhaps she might have rivaled Lord Malandor, while he lived.” Her mouth curled, and she added reluctantly, “Or a'Natharion.”

“Can you track her?” Carson said.

“I can try.” Jake beckoned for the others to follow him. He didn't dare shift form, not in broad daylight on open city streets—and with the
kami
all at once grown silent he didn't dare let his partner out of his sight. “Come on.”

Like the
kami
, Kobe Terrace Park was strangely subdued.

Jake saw no one else as he made his way into the place, Carson and Melisanda keeping careful pace with him on either side. That lack strained his already taut nerves, for there should have been others making free use of the park even in October, even given the vagaries of Seattle weather in the autumn and winter. There should have been children playing while bundled into their windbreakers, families carving pumpkins for Halloween, or people of all ages walking their dogs. He could even smell that there'd been people in the park not an hour before; traces of their scents were all over the walkways and benches and picnic tables.

That those scents all spoke of recent flight disturbed him. But when he realized he could find no trace of
kitsune
scent no matter how far they walked into the place, Jake began to worry.

He was just about to advise the others to turn back when the ambush caught them.

A shimmer in the air—the dropping of concealing magic—was Jake's only warning before the
nogitsune
took them from both sides of one of the park trails. The young one-tailed tackled Carson, while the three-tailed female barreled into Melisanda with such brutal swiftness that not even Sidhe reflexes had time to compensate.

Before Jake had time to change and engage in battle, the three-tailed female growled to him, “I advise you to stay where you are, servant of Inari, if you wish your companions to stay in one piece.”

Even in her four-footed form she was speaking Japanese, and that left him at a profound disadvantage. If he wanted to maintain his own ability to talk, he would have to stay in human form. “We come in peace,” Jake said in the same language, as earnestly as he could, even as he shot a frantic glance at Carson. The male
nogitsune
had him pinned, and Carson was moving feebly beneath his front paws, unable to shove him off. “We have come to talk. Nothing more.”

The female had Melisanda backed up against the low stone wall along one side of the trail. She hadn't pinned the Sidhe the same way the other had pinned Carson, but her muzzle was scant inches from Melisanda's sword hand, and the warrior watched her, completely still. “This one,” the
nogitsune
snarled, “fought us with steel when the elfling and the Warder interrupted our hunt.”

“You were attacking the Heir of my—”

“Melisanda, please.” Her name didn't settle well on Jake's tongue, or maybe that was just his worry for Carson talking. He didn't bother to switch back to English, since the Seelie had spoken in Japanese as well. To the three-tail, he went on, “I promise you, honored one, that we will not fight you. Will you let me attend to my spouse?”

The one-tailed male pinning Carson didn't budge, save for a quick sidelong glance to the female—and she, in turn, swiveled her head around to stare balefully in Jake's direction. “I remember you,” she said. “You are Tanaka-san, of the Puget Sound
myobu
.”

“Yes,” Jake agreed. “May I know who I address, honored one?”

Without warning she whirled away from Melisanda, and in two quick, shimmering strides, she was a woman. Silver streaked her black hair, marking her as likely older than he or Carson, and most likely not as old as Millicent. He'd already heard the fury brimming in her voice. Now, though, he could see her displeasure clearly on her human features.

“I am Makiko Asakura of the
nogitsune
of Yokohama,” she said. “I remember your essence, scent and face from when our kind met in the halls of Faerie.
Her
people”—Her hand snapped backwards to Melisanda, before coming forward again to point to him—“and you, servant of Inari, are allied with the Warders who hold this city. You and your human mate spoke for the
myobu
in the Seelie halls.”

“That is true. How may I help you, Asakura-sama?” That he had to use the honorific grated, but Jake was careful to keep that out of his voice. Makiko Asakura's language was formal, even if her anger fell just short of rudeness—even on top of the bodily insult her companion had just dealt Carson. He had no option but to meet and match her speech, including showing his respect to one of greater power.

“You may speak for me to the Warders, and to the elfling mage who fought me. They must meet with me and hear my voice, for they do not know the danger before them.”

“Asakura-sama, you must forgive my skepticism, but the elfling shares a house with me and my spouse. Her welfare is important to us. We are not convinced that you do not mean her harm.”

“Then you will meet with me and take my words to her! And to the Warders!”

A hint of a growl edged into the woman's voice, and Jake swallowed hard, recognizing the shift in her tone for what it was: a warning. Nonetheless he stood a little taller. Carson had a hand clapped to his bleeding brow, but was watching him from under the stoic creature weighing down his chest—and Carson understood Japanese every bit as well as he did. Melisanda's face was far less readable than his partner's, yet Jake recognized a hunter's alertness in her bearing. In his fox shape, he'd have looked the same.

Before the two of them, he would not let himself be anything but strong.

“With respect, Asakura-sama,” he said quietly, “your power is greater than mine, but you do not command me. And until you let me tend my partner, I cannot believe you do not mean us harm. In fact, here and now, you attacked us first.”

Just behind the
nogitsune
woman, Melisanda rose soundlessly to her feet. Her hand was on her sword, though she didn't draw, not yet. And she froze nonetheless the instant the other
nogitsune
began to growl.

Makiko Asakura quirked her head back towards the warrior, anger sparking in her golden eyes. It was to Jake, however, that she spoke. “I am not heartless. You may attend to your mate if the Seelie takes word of me back to the Warders and tells them I wish to meet them.”

Carson closed his eyes where he lay, leaving Jake to stand alone beneath the implacable gazes of the
nogitsune
—but no, not entirely alone. Melisanda's eyes met his with considering interest, the closest thing he'd ever seen to actual concern on a full-blooded Seelie's face. “I would prefer not to abandon Tanaka-san and his spouse,” she said, in perfectly accented Japanese. “The Warders and the Heir of my House will be most distressed that Mr. Saunders has come to harm.”

“That'll make four of us,” Carson put in, in English. “Jake, make her go. The faster she goes, the faster we can get me off this damn ground.”

His voice was a breathy whisper, and at the sound of it, Jake flashed him another anxious stare.
He's bleeding.
For a moment that was all he could think. All his EMT training collided with his love and fright, and it was all he could do to keep from throwing himself to his partner's side, the two
nogitsune
be damned.

Then, to his surprise, Makiko Asakura abruptly said, “We meant only to intercept you, not to draw blood. Hiroshi, let the spouse of Tanaka-san up.”

At her order, the gray
nogitsune
male sprang backwards from Carson's chest, changing in mid-motion into a wiry young man so like the woman in face and frame that he could be nothing but her son. He wasn't as rigid of composure as his mother. The urgency of attack fled out of his features, leaving behind distinct chagrin, and Jake heard him offer Carson rueful apologies.

All his attention, though, remained with the woman. Anger had still roughened her last words, and her proud stance hadn't altered, although something of the harshness was gone from her face. That was, Jake suspected, all the sign he was going to get that he'd just successfully chastened her—and what his diplomacy hadn't accomplished, the sight of his bloodied partner had.

That small sign, though, was enough.

“Thank you, Asakura-sama,” he said, happy now to bow and to mean it. To the watchful Melisanda, he requested, slipping back into English, “Please do as she's requested and go back to Kendis' house. Tell her and Millicent and Christopher what's happened and that the
nogitsune
wish to speak with them.”

“Will you be all right?” The Seelie cast a meaningful glance between the
nogitsune
and then to Carson as he lifted his head, thought better of it, and sank back down again.

“I'll handle it. Please. Go as quickly as you can.”

Whatever disbelief she might have harbored Melisanda prudently chose to keep unvoiced. Instead she inclined her fair head to Jake and paused to face Makiko Asakura once more. “Do either of these two any further harm,” she said, “and it will be answered.”

She'd kept to English—and somehow, Jake wasn't surprised to hear the
nogitsune
woman respond in kind. “They are not Sidhe. I doubt that your House Kirlath will defend them.”

“No. But I will.” With that Melisanda strode away with long, lithe steps that carried her back the way they'd come.

Jake didn't watch her go or bother to notice how either of the
nogitsune
reacted to the warrior's challenge. His path to Carson was clear. That was all that mattered. “For the love of God, don't try to move,” he said as his partner tried to stir once more. “How bad is your head, and how else are you hurt?”

“Feels like a concussion,” the other man grunted. That matched what Jake could see of his eyes, one pupil dilated, the other not, at least until Carson closed them again. “And I think the boy might have gotten one of my ribs.”

“Broken?” Jake asked, running his hands over him. There should have been pleasure in that. At any other time, there would have been. In that moment there was only his need to keep clinical, no matter how his nerves jangled at the erratic flinch of Carson's chest at his contact. His pulse was steady, but oh, there was that reaction of pain. And he could never stand the idea of his man in pain.

“Bruised, probably. What the hell do you plan to do about it, stern looks? Didn't bring a first aid kit.”

Jake snorted, the only answer he could spare. Everything else he ignored, even the gazes of the
nogitsune
, until he found the place along Carson's ribs that had taken Hiroshi Asakura's impact. All his EMT training counseled actions he couldn't take, not when he couldn't leave Carson.

But there were other things he could do. He closed his eyes, and in the quiet of his heart, called upon Inari to help him ease his partner's pain.

And he hoped, even as he prayed, that it'd buy them time until Kendis, Christopher and Millicent could come.

Christopher caught up with me scant seconds later, and we had to make do with one swift, frantic hug and the reassurance of our interlinked magics.
We had no time for anything else. “I felt you fight it off,” he reported. “Where the hell is it?”

“Vanished! Can you tell where it went?”

I'd raised enough of a ruckus at this point that one or two curious looks did shoot or way, and that was one or two curious looks too many. Fortunately, it took hardly any work at all to pick up the
alokhiu
's trail. Her passing left a ragged line of energy bright enough to stand out to us both, even in the surrounding noise of dozens of passing shoppers. We broke into as fast a run as we dared to follow it, the urgency of finding our quarry only partially cancelled out for the need to avoid looking conspicuous.

Unfortunately, the trail led to a cluster of people in front of a yogurt shop, all of whom were gathered around a shape lying on the floor. As we hurried up to join them, I spotted a familiar pair of shoes on that prone figure—Jude's.

That was bad enough. Worse yet was the smaller figure I spotted watching the grownups around my friend's collapsed form. The child Christopher and I had last seen on the Burke-Gilman Trail, the child Melisanda had identified as a dragon, was at a casual glance calmly eating chocolate yogurt on a waffle cone. Then she turned her head and smiled directly at me, with the exact same smile I'd last seen the bone walker give me when she'd been wearing Jude's face.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I croaked, and just beside me, Christopher swore too. But before either of us could reach the kid, she disappeared before our eyes. And took her magical trail with her.

Christopher reacted a second before I did, his power digging in deep beneath the mall and then cascading out to flow over every single person in sight. Nobody could see it but me, but the effect of its passing was immediate: faces subtly eased and eyes brightened as the Warder magic washed over them in passing, seeking the creature we'd just lost.

Me, I pushed my way through the little gathered crowd to check on Jude.

“Hey, hey, oh God, let me through, I know her!”