CHAPTER 21
I found myself completely naked and tangled in sheets when I woke up, with the Big Ben pounding inside my head.
I squinted at the bright light from the window and made out a shape.
"Duane?"
He didn't come over to the bed when he spoke. He was looking outside the window. "Good morning."
I meant for it to come out as an incredulous laugh, but what I heard was a scratchy, sand-papered, strangled voice. "Why am I naked?"
He looked at me then, and the heat I saw in his gray eyes when they grazed my skin almost made me wish I hadn't pulled the sheets up so high. "Your fox took the charge of your consciousness. Chose to take on your human skin."
"Uh..."
I couldn't form coherent words, because what had happened suddenly came back to me in a rush. Mr. Harrington. Thomas. The injection. Red Fox. The men I killed in the bloodlust.
The other kind of lust I'd felt that made me take on my human form.
My breath hitched. "I killed those men."
"It's an instinct to draw blood when your predator is in control."
His voice was flat, almost deadpanned. I noticed that he hadn't touched me since I woke up, not even moving closer to offer me comfort. I felt like he was miles away from me, even though we were in the same room.
"They—they drugged me with something," I blurted. "It was supposed to speed up the process of the whole kitsune thing. They tried it on Nick, too."
"I know."
"How?"
He told me then what had happened when he fought Thomas. It was only legal to kill another werewolf if you challenge him in a duel, he said. Years ago he had challenged Thomas when he'd first taken an interest in me. It had come to a draw. Thomas and his Pack had tried to kill me. Someone had scared them off and saved me.
While Duane fought Thomas, they had sent people to save Nick and me from our captivity. They had found the cells ruined. I must have been immune not only to fire, but also to electrocution, he said. And there were bodies on the floor. Duane left out the details about that, but I remembered everything about those men I killed.
"Armand tried to coach you into charge, but your fox was so stubborn. He had to immobilize you by force."
"That was Armand?" I thought about the familiar voice. The pair of wings. The same pair I had seen when Thomas hurt my Red Fox spirit in the woods years ago.
Duane nodded. "He's an Enfield, which makes him a very powerful Keeper. His true form can be too overwhelming."
"The bright white light?"
"He actually had a fox head. Lion body. Eagle wings. Horse legs. His king is the strongest of the shifters kind. Enfields are rare. They also had a half-spirit form, like kitsune. But the true extent of their power is still a secret."
Wow. I cleared my throat. "I bet he has an ugly tail."
Duane didn't even laugh at my weak joke. He turned away from me. "He killed Thomas."
I blinked. Thomas is dead. The thought gave a jolt to my bones. It was strange, how relief could scare you almost as much as fear itself could. "Really?"
"Yes. Thomas is—was one of the riot leaders in the supernatural community. As the Keeper, Armand has the right to execute him."
I watched his jaw work. His hard set of shoulders. "You're not happy about that," I said, as it dawned on me.
He was silent. I thought he wouldn't answer me—it wasn't even as much a question as it was a statement.
Then he said, "I failed you. You took more than one bullets for me. I've failed protecting you. Three times now. I had to be the one to end him. But that, too, I failed."
I sat up straighter and moved to reach him, not caring about the sheets. "Duane—"
"Get some rest, Elena." He planted a kiss on my forehead then. "I love you."
I want you, I remembered he had said. I'll always want you.
"I—"
But he already slipped out of the room.
Three days later almost everything was back to normal.
Almost.
After knowing what Nick truly was, I became warier around him. Jamie had a huge fight with him, because all she knew was that Nick had disappeared on her without any news and suddenly showed up saying that he wouldn't be able to see the sun anymore.
Yes, he told her he was a vampire. I believed I heard her shout at him, "This is not an episode of Supernatural, Nicky! I don't see any Winchesters on hunt here!"
And he said, "You think I don't know that? You're the fan of that stupid show with some gay brothers and cheesy creatures with cool car, not me!" Or something around that. It must have been a shock to Jamie, who'd always thought that Nick watched Supernatural with her because he liked it, too, not because he put up with that for her.
"They're not gay! And they're not cheesy—vampire, you say? That's cheesier. What are you going to say now, that you're related to Dracula."
"Well, I am!" Which was true, ironically.
They went on another fight about twisting truths. Their voice went all the way to my room, and they were downstairs at the time. I really couldn't believe Nick would yell like that, nor could I believe Jamie would, too. Nick was usually the reserved, cold glare type.
But I guess any people—er, vampires? Supernatural creatures?—eventually would crack under pressure, too, after all we had been through. For once, Nick had actually made me feel better, letting me know that I wasn't the only one who hadn't wanted this to happen so soon.
He hadn't wanted to turn into a full vampire yet.
I hadn't wanted to be a kitsune and kill people.
But yet here we were.
Nick had eventually settled the matter by taking Jamie to Mr. Cadwell and forced him to admit the truth about Vigil, the supernatural community, and everything else except about me. It was by my request that they didn't reveal that part to her, because I wanted to be the one who broke the news to her.
It was a dark night. Never mind that it was midnight, but ever since my sense of sight had been heightened, I saw everything differently. The texture of everything. The miniscule droplets that formed the clouds.
"So," I prompted, fingering the think chain around my neck. Yesterday morning I'd found the Sessho-seki on my dresser. Duane must have left it, as a way to say his goodbye to me. "I'm not going to turn into a fox every full moon?"
"Not unless you want to join the wolves. It's all on your choice."
"So I can morph into a fox right now?"
"You can, but you won't. First, because you're fully-clothed—you don't want your ripped clothes tangled in your ears or your muzzle. Second, I bet you still can't summon up your fox form in control. Remember what happened when you were not in control."
Oh, I remembered all right. It was like the dreams at night wouldn't let me get away without remembering.
My fingers brushed the Sessho-seki involuntarily. "Duane left me this." I pulled it out of my shirt and showed it to him.
His fingers reached out, but only to hover over the object, not actually touching it.
"It's generally considered a myth," he said, "even in our world. Almost every medieval culture has at least a story about it. The object that is capable of trapping spirits or any preternatural creature at all, inside it. Some says that the witches and the shamans created it and induced it with magic—like a talisman. But some said it was just any sacred object to banish creatures that are not meant to exist in our realm. For example, a holy cross for vampires, special-made silver for the animal shifters like us, a pentagram for a demon, a certain clove for the fae. It could be very deadly, or on the contrary, healing."
"An object of weakness," I concluded, remembering the Sylvie's vial. "Like Edelweiss for the Unseelie."
"But they don't always work. People keep making mistakes. Crosses that weren't actually holy. Silver that wasn't made in the right way. The pentagram not drawn with the right marks. The clove not the right age and type." Armand's shoulders shook, as if he had just shuddered. "If it's made the right way, those objects could be treasures."
"You've experienced...this," I said.
"And so have you."
He was still staring at the Sessho-seki.
"This Sessho-seki is one?"
He let his hand fall. "It did heal your memory."
I looked at the object resting in my fingers. I wished then that I hadn't remembered anything. Not just the time while I was captured, but the whole supernatural thing.
"Elena."
I looked up at Armand's somber face. Way too somber, as if he knew altogether what I was thinking. "What?"
"There are...some unexplained things about your own self that you don't understand."
I remembered the strange lusty feeling I'd felt after the bloodlust receded and snorted. "Duh. If only you'd just tell me about the whole deal about being a kitsune." A wry smile twisted my lips. "Or maybe you can send me the guidebook How to Be A Kitsune for Dummies for Christmas."
"I can't." He shook his head before I countered his statement. "I mean I really can't, because I also don't know everything."
"Just like how no one knows everything about Enfields?"
He shot me a sharp look.
I shrugged. "Duane told me." Before he left without a word. I didn't know where he'd disappeared off to, and after asking Armand only once, I knew he didn't want to be found.
"But," Armand continued, "I know where you can learn that." He took a deep breath. "Your case is...unusual. But not the first in our community. I can help you get some help."
I barked out a short laugh. "Like, in a mental hospital?"
"No. More like a boarding school for dummies in our community."
He'd cracked a smile for the first time since we agreed to meet up here, but his words had kicked off all the humor left in me.
"Boarding school?" I screeched. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Why not? Every region has one. Vigil beginners have to graduate from there before they're considered into acceptance. Newly bitten lycans, vampires, humans with exceptional supernatural abilities—"
"A real school for supernatural dummies."
"Exactly. They don't accept all 'dummies', but I can pull up some strings for you."
We were both quiet as his words echoed in my mind. Boarding school. Learn what I am.
"How can I explain it to Jamie?" I shivered. "She doesn't even know what I am."
"The Cadwells can come up with something. Maybe they'll say you're going off to some cooking academy in France, or a prep school in England somewhere, or maybe off with a raft to India."
"It's not funny!" I clenched my fists. "You're asking me to consider sending off my own life!"
"I can give you time to think. But I warn you, there's no better time to decide than now. Going back to your normal life will only be harder for you when you choose to leave it."
"I—I need to think."
When I walked back to my house, I had never felt more alone.
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