Foxblood #1: A Brush with the Moon

  Chapter Twelve

  “WHAT IS IT?” I asked.

  “When were you planning on telling me you had a little secret of your own?” Sebastian said once he’d gained his composure.

  I started to dry my face.

  “Don’t,” he said, grabbing the towel. “I want to see.” He reached behind me, filled his palm with water, and patted it against my face. “Amazing. Of course, I’ve read about this in Eumann’s translations from the ancient tablets, but I never dreamt that I’d witness it in the flesh. It all makes sense now,” he said, peering at my face from every angle.

  He was treating me like an exhibit in a museum. I shivered with anger as well as the cold. “Would you mind telling me what the hell you’re talking about, and let me get dry, please?”

  “Sure. When you tell me how and when you were chosen.”

  “Sorry?”

  “You can’t deny it. Tokala’s left her mark written all over your face…so to speak.”

  I spun around to look in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink, and stared at my reflection from every angle. I couldn’t see anything unusual and turned to face Sebastian once more, puzzled.

  He was laughing.

  “You can’t see it yourself. Only the magical eyes of our world can. Even then, the image must be viewed through the refraction caused by water. So, be careful where you get wet.”

  “How do you know about Tokala?”

  “Father made us study the old ways as part of our education. Tokala is one of three immortal goddesses from old Elysium folklore. The goddesses rule for a thousand years before choosing a successor. They all have alternate animal forms, and Tokala’s is a pure white fox. Her seekers bestow the gift of longevity through their bites to the most deserving of souls, who are then expected to repay the kindness by fighting for the good of all.”

  That sounded familiar. But fight? I couldn’t fight. I used to be the school bully’s favourite plaything. I would have to be bestowed with a little more than just longevity if anyone wanted me to fight. But I was intrigued. “What do you see? Am I a hideous monster?”

  “Of course not. It’s like a hologram. From certain angles, the light bends and reveals another image. It transforms your face into that of a fox. It’s pretty cool, but it definitely complicates matters and explains why some people might want you dead. The Reiths will be aware that a new tenderfoot has been chosen, and they will want to eradicate the threat as soon as possible.”

  I stroked away tiny droplets of water from my arm, tracing the outline of the scar left by the bite, wishing it would erase. “Are you saying that Beth’s poisoning and my imprisonment here are because…because of the bite?”

  “This is your sanctuary, not your prison. My only thoughts are for your safety. But we need to know if anyone else could have discovered your secret. Try to remember all the times you’ve had a wet face since your arrival here, and who could have seen it.”

  “Well, apart from you, just Beth. I think.”

  “Okay. And what about the rain? That would have the same effect, even through glass.”

  “Glass?”

  “Yes. For instance, if someone saw you through a rain-splattered window.”

  “Oh. I see. Actually, do you mind?” I said, shoving him out of the bathroom. “I’d like to get dressed.”

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

  I quickly dried myself and thought about the weather. “I think it’s only rained once since I’ve been here. I remember waking up to it that first morning at uni,” I shouted through the door. “But it’d stopped before I left. So, no.”

  “Okay. Good.” Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief, then sucked his breath back in sharply. “The Halloween ball. Did you go near the vamps? I mean, within, say…six feet or so?”

  “Um, no. No, I don’t think so.”

  “Good. They have an excellent sense of smell, even better than ours. They would have smelt Tokala’s scent on you.”

  A minute later, I was dressed, and I returned to the bedroom. Sebastian had vanished. I opened the door to the landing, searching left and right. No sign.

  “Seb? Seb?” I called nervously.

  “I’m right here, babe.” His voice came from behind me.

  “Well, you weren’t,” I said, confronting him. “And it’s not the first time you’ve pulled a disappearing act on me. What’s going on?”

  He considered his answer. “It’s one of our abilities,” he said, shrugging. “It’s called tripping. It basically means we can jump through space from one moment to another.”

  “Wow. Like teleporting, you mean? That’s kinda cool. Scares the shit out of me, mind, but it’s still cool. How does it work?”

  “You just visualise where you want to be and hone your mind.”

  Seemed simple enough. “What else can you do?”

  “Oh, you know the drill: strength, speed, night vision, good sense of smell. The usual stuff.” He shrugged. “Anyway, Connor’s coming, and I do need to go.”

  “Hey, bro.” Connor suddenly materialized beside us.

  “That’s quite impressive. How did you know he was coming? Are you telepathic too?” I asked.

  Sebastian laughed. “No. Part of the package. We can sense when someone’s tripping in. Look, I really need to fly before Dad gets his fur in a knot.” And with that, he kissed me on the cheek and vanished into thin air.

  “If you can do that, why bother having cars?” I asked Connor.

  “The chicks, dude. Hot cars equal hot chicks.”

  “Right. And, seriously?”

  “Seriously? Gotta keep up appearances. Besides, driving’s fun.”

  “I see.”

  “Cool. Look, you okay here? I’m no good at small talk. Don’t want things getting awkward, know what I mean? My room’s down the landing. You can call if you need me. I’m guaranteed to hear,” he joked, flicking his ear.

  I knew what he meant. I was no good with idle chitchat either. One of the reasons that I was such good friends with Beth was that she could talk enough for the both of us.

  “Do you mind if I explore a little? Sebastian…Seb, said I could.”

  “Sure, no problem. Should be safe enough within these walls. Best not go outside, though,” he said as he opened the door.

  “Okay, thanks. See you later.” I watched him walk to his room.

  He turned, bowed his head to one side, gave a weird salute of two fingers off his nose, as if he was blowing me a kiss, beamed a smile which I was sure had melted plenty of girls’ hearts, and closed his door.

  I was of two minds about leaving my cosy room to wander around a draughty old mansion, but my curiosity won again, so I grabbed my jacket and set off down the landing.

  I’d already seen Sebastian’s room, and the next one was Connor’s, so I continued down the line to the last door and opened it.

  It was a sad room, a morbid reminder of a childhood lost. Evidently, it had been Tamar’s room as a little girl. Dolls and teddies, long neglected and unloved, were suffocating under a thick layer of dust. In the window alcove, a small table and chair set was laid out for afternoon tea, although clearly only spiders had dined recently. An old wooden doll’s house stood against the wall. Paint had flaked off the roof, a headless doll lolled out of an upstairs window, and a one-legged doll lay on top of the broken front door in the garden. It looked like a massacre had occurred. I felt as if I were intruding on a private scene and hurriedly closed the door.

  On the opposite side of the corridor, there were two more rooms, but when I tried the handles, I found them both locked.

  Downstairs, I was drawn to a room just off the hallway, where I discovered the library—a circular, two-story room with curved shelving on the ground floor, set out like one of those little plastic ball bearing toys. Almost every conceivable bit of wall space was crammed with bookshelves, overly stuffed with old leather-bound volumes except for one small section where an antique leather-topped desk stood, guarded by the portrait
of a man. A wooden ladder ran on runners around the circumference of the room, allowing access to the narrow gallery floor above, and rays of light streamed down through twinkling dust particles from the domed glass ceiling.

  I’ve always loved books. Escaping from reality into an engrossing story is second only to painting on my relaxation list, so I lazily strolled around the shelves, studying all the rare and unusual titles in an attempt to find a little light bedtime reading. The filing system wasn’t exactly Dewey decimal, but I soon got the gist of it.

  After a while, I came across a classics section, where I discovered a gorgeous first edition of Pride and Prejudice, a story that had been a favourite of mine since my Nanna gave me a copy for my eleventh birthday. I couldn’t resist taking it over to the desk for closer study.

  I had not sat long, imagining Mrs Bennet prattle on about the letting of Netherfield Park, when a gruff cough sounded from above me.

  “That’s my seat. Nobody sits in my seat,” said a man’s voice.

  Pushing the chair back on its castors, I strained my neck in an attempt to find the voice’s owner up in the gallery.

  “Connor? Is that you?” I called. “You can quit it with the pranks. You don’t know me well enough yet.”

  “Connor would know not to sit in my chair,” growled the angry voice, behind me now.

  It had the desired effect. I jumped up immediately and spun around to face my accuser.

  There was nobody there.

  I scanned down past the shelving and around the room, but I saw no one.

  “I know it’s you, Connor. You’re supposed to be looking after me, not scaring me half to death,” I shouted into the aisles.

  I waited. No answer. So I turned, intending to retrieve the book from the desk, but instead I froze…and screamed.