Free Foxfire (An Other Novel) by Karen Kincy Page A

“Come here.”
    She lets me hug her, but her muscles stiffen beneath my touch. “I’m pissed.”
    “I can tell.”
    “Aren’t you?” She looks into my eyes. “At your kitsune mother? At everything?”
    “How can I be pissed when I have happy pandas in my stomach?”
    “Tavian,” she says, resting her head on my chest. “Be serious.”
    I sigh. “I’m not sure being pissed makes a difference. But I’m not going to just roll over and give up. Hell no.”
    “Good,” she says, her voice muffled.
    I squeeze her gently, trying to make us both feel better, when all I really feel like doing is running away. She leans back to look at me, then kisses me on the lips. I slide my fingers up her back and into her hair, freeing her curls from her ponytail.
    “I’m not leaving you,” I whisper.
    She holds me tighter in reply.
    As we stand together, our breathing slows to the same rhythm and I feel her heartbeat against my chest.
    “I’ve been worrying a lot,” she says. “About you.”
    I sit on the edge of my bed and draw Gwen down to sit next to me. Her cheeks look red and splotchy, and I know she’s trying not to cry. I kiss her, softly at first, then harder. The tension in her muscles melts, and she lies back on the bed. I slide my hands into the back pockets of her jeans, my blood burning hotter.
    “What are you attempting to do?” she murmurs, half-smiling.
    “I’m not attempting to do anything,” I say. “I’m already succeeding.”
    She scoffs, but she’s smiling. “You wish.”
    I wiggle my eyebrows, over-the-top suggestive, and start kissing up her arm like a deranged Casanova. She laughs.
    “That’s more like it,” I say.
    “Naughty fox boy,” she whispers, “you know we can’t do anything.”
    “Consider it a promise for the future,” I say, and I bend down to kiss her on the lips.

seven
    T hat afternoon, we head out to Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, which is surprisingly big for a garden in the middle of Tokyo, and surprisingly popular for the middle of winter. Scattered crowds stroll and chat beneath snow-dusted evergreens, while the late sun paints everything gold. An icy wind numbs my fingers and face.
    “Tavian,” Gwen says, “someone is following us.”
    I walk closer to her and our arms bump. We aren’t holding hands—that’s too mushy for public in Japan. “Is it the noppera-bō?” I whisper. “With all these people?”
    “No.” She glances back over her shoulder. “Take a look.”
    She stops at a park bench and tugs me to sit beside her. I pretend to be interested in pines farther down the path.
    The gray mastiff.
    It’s too massive for anything but an inugami. Passersby are shying away from the beast, maybe because it’s wearing a leather-studded collar but no leash—illegal, I saw the signs. Or maybe they’re shying away from the equally massive thug walking around with unconcealed tattoos on his arms. Reflective sunglasses hide his eyes, and his black hair hangs long and loose down his back. I don’t know who he is, but I’d rather not introduce myself.
    “The Kuro Inu,” I say out of the corner of my mouth.
    “Who?” Gwen says.
    “Oh, that’s the name of their little yakuza gang.”
    “Tavian? Gwen?” Michiko is waiting for us, farther along the path.
    I saunter over to my grandmother, slowly, so it doesn’t look like I’ve seen anything alarming.
    “It’s a pity the roses aren’t blooming at this time of year,” Michiko says, determined to be our tour guide. “But the French Formal Garden is still quite lovely. Now, onward to the traditional Japanese garden. In the spring, there are wonderful cherry blossoms. In the fall, the chrysanthemums bring crowds equal to their beauty.”
    Behind us, I can hear the gray mastiff panting heavily.
    “Gwen would love to see the Japanese garden,” I say. “And the teahouse there. Could we have some tea?”
    Gwen nods, her eyes brightening at the lie.
    Maybe if we go indoors, the inugami won’t follow