So I grabbed a particularly skittish tendril after shifting back to human form at the end of our non-date. I ran my hand along the length of the pack bond until it split then split then split again. Each time, I kept myself attuned to the one darkened thread, not that I could physically see it. In fact, outside Thom’s presence, I wouldn’t have even known pack bonds existed if I hadn’t already wrapped this one around my wrist.

  I was starting to think the sneakiness I’d scented was all in my imagination...until I trotted up a street toward a house like Charlie’s—paint bright, no dangling trim, carefully mulched flower beds. A woman’s silhouette was visible through one curtained window while a human man, briefcase in hand, strode out the front.

  At the same moment, a shifter I knew in passing slipped in through the back.

  I crept closer, materializing my star ball into a sword as I waited for the shatter of breaking objects. A scream maybe.

  Instead, a woman’s throaty voice murmured, “Perfect timing.” Through the lacy curtain, the pair recreated Klimt’s Kiss.

  So, yes, that particular shifter was up to something illicit. But his subterfuge was consensual and far from a danger to the pack.

  Despite striking out on Tuesday, I continued pack-bond hunting for the rest of the week. I learned that Hank’s kid brother skipped school to run in the forest—although when I caught him with only his first shoe off, his face turned beet red and he suddenly decided education was a better bet. On Thursday, the shifter I tracked down was shoplifting—that one I tattled about to his alpha. And on Friday the best I could come up with was a very healthy werewolf calling in sick to work.

  The trouble with my plan, and likely the reason Thom hadn’t taken a similar approach, was that pack bonds only presented a tiny sliver of each shifter’s thoughts and actions. And Kaito’s death was fading from all of our realities quickly. Even the roiling in my stomach had begun to ease up.

  But a sworn oath wasn’t the only reason to do right by Kaito. He was Charlie’s pack mate. He had links to Gate City. Somewhere back in his history, he bore kitsune blood.

  Plus, there was always the possibility, no matter how minor, that his murderer could come after my sister and her children. So I took on the task willingly, dead ends notwithstanding.

  I was still trying to think up a new avenue of exploration when an opportunity to sleuth arose in the form of a Friday afternoon attack.

  Chapter 21

  “Invasion!” Hank sprinted into the bar with his cowboy hat nearly falling off his head and no concern for the wide-eyed humans who immediately started muttering questions.

  Dixie Lee was the one who saved our bacon. “The British Invasion? Yes, I do think it’s time for some Beatles.” She cranked up the volume on the sound system, shimmied her hips, and soon half the barflies were singing along to Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band.

  Focus diverted, the shifters present subtly melted away into the Moon Room’s human-free interior. From there, after very little discussion, we piled into vehicles and raced for the invasion point while Thom debriefed Hank.

  The latter had been on patrol east of the city when he stumbled across a fresh scent trail. He’d stalked closer, seen at least a dozen human-form shifters hiking into Gate City territory, and had figured retrieving backup was smarter than engaging in direct attack.

  “Agreed,” Thom said, deftly steering the minivan he’d commandeered in the indicated direction. “But, perhaps, next time you could tell me in private? Where humans aren’t listening?”

  In the front passenger seat, Hank’s cowboy hat sunk lower as his chin tilted downward. “Yes, Chief Faris. Although I don’t understand why you cater to meat.”

  Thom—who I suspected had never before heard that term for non-shifters—was silent for a moment too long. So I inserted myself into the conversation, pushing my words up between the seats in front of me. “We don’t use slurs like meat here.”

  Hank snorted very softly and this time when Thom came to a turn in the road, he wrenched the wheel more aggressively than was really necessary. “Kira speaks the truth,” he growled. “You may have come from an old-fashioned pack, but things are done differently here.”

  Hank’s scent instantly grew submissive. “Yes, Chief Faris. I won’t use the word again.”

  There was no time for further discussion, because we’d reached our destination. Doors slammed as shifters hopped out, some two-legged and some already in wolf form. The forest encroached on the city here, a park giving way to private woodlots then to national forest. It was an easy access point for invaders, although I would have thought they’d travel on lupine paws.

  The reason for their choice became clear as men stepped out of long tree shadows. They’d circled around so they came from the direction of the sun, but that wasn’t the biggest danger. The danger lay in the grace with which each shifter moved and the sword clenched in each man’s fist.

  Of course. Most traditional packs trained in swordsmanship.

  Unfortunately, ours didn’t. There were a few weapons in our vehicles, or so I assumed when mutterings and rustlings suggested Gate City shifters were retreating in search of blades. But I’d seen these guys fight. Most used the hack-and-hope technique.

  It wouldn’t be nearly enough.

  What would have shut things down immediately was my vial of alpha blood, the one that sat in the bottom of my backpack in Dixie Lee’s spare bedroom. I squinted into the lowering sun, trying to count invaders silhouetted against the blazing light. How could we turn the tables on these shifters so the battle didn’t come down to a contest of swordsmanship?

  While I was still grasping at mental straws, Thom strode forward. Hands empty, his voice held just the right amount of alpha command. “You look lost, neighbor. Perhaps you didn’t realize Gate City territory began three miles that way.”

  He jerked his chin in the proper direction, but the Reed alpha didn’t pay the gesture any attention. Instead, Chief Reed raised what appeared to be a monocle to his right eye, head swinging slowly from side to side.

  The gesture was clearly theater—I mean, who used monocles in the twenty-first century? Still, if our enemy was assessing us then I could take the time to do the same.

  He was a fit man on the upper end of middle age. A sword that appeared almost too ornamental to be functional dangled from what I knew from experience was a deceptively relaxed en-garde position. That plus his playacting suggested our enemy would toy with his prey, perhaps long enough for....

  Just as an idea struck, Chief Reed’s gaze landed on me. I knew, not because I could see his eyes with his whole body backlit, but because I could feel them. Gauging me. Weighing me.

  I shivered. This alpha might enjoy the limelight, but he wasn’t empty-brained or a lightweight. Not nearly.

  Then, with the faintest shift of his posture, the intensity of his focus returned to Thom. “You’re a new alpha,” Chief Reed murmured. “But surely even you understand tit for tat?”

  His words hung heavy in the chilling air as he lunged forward, his sword aimed at Thom’s unprotected chest.

  THOM, AS FAR AS I KNEW, had even less experience with swords than his underlings did. I’d certainly never known him to spar. Saw at a glance that he bore no weapon now.

  So I sprinted toward the narrowing space between the two pack leaders, my star-ball sword extending my reach not quite enough to make any difference. Still I tried, pushing every hint of vulpine speed into my stride even though I knew the effort wasn’t going to work.

  Thom’s name hung in my throat, but I didn’t voice it. Didn’t want to distract him from the imminent danger slicing toward his skin.

  I almost didn’t see the blade spiraling through the air above us all. A sword functional instead of ornamental. It glinted with sunlight, blinding me for one split second.

  It didn’t blind Thom. Without being warned, without turning, Thom lifted his hand and the hilt thudded perfectly into his grip.

  And it turned out I was wrong about something else also. Thom had skill. His blade sliced through the air as if it wasn’t made of steel but rather of magic. He countered the Reed alpha’s blow and thrust forward with an attack of his own.

  After that, there was no time for further posturing, verbal or otherwise. Enemy swordsmen surged forward out of the sun-drenched west and those of us with weapons countered. In terms of overall numbers, the two sides were evenly matched. But Gate City shifters in lupine form were soon beaten back to the safety of our vehicles. Teeth and claws were no match for long, sharp blades.

  That left our side outnumbered, but the Reed shifters didn’t band together to overcome the weaponed few remaining. Instead, the enemies I tried to engage shunted me sideways then forward, forcing me through the maelstrom of battle and closer to their alpha.

  An alpha who had subtly turned Thom over to two of his pack mates and waited, grinning, for me to approach. He had something in mind that required a kitsune. Or maybe he intended to use me against Thom.

  Well, that was fine. I was glad to deal with Chief Reed directly. After all, my aborted hunt within Thom’s pack had turned up no leads. The man before me was now my top suspect in Kaito’s murder. He and I had a lot to discuss.

  The Reed alpha would make his confession at the point of a weapon, I decided. But his underlings were likely to turn protective if I appeared too proficient. So I mimicked Ava and shrank in on myself. I allowed my blade to slip a few times, allowed swords to nearly—but not quite—cut through my guard as I was herded where they and I both wanted me to go.

  Then, at last, I stood in front of the Reed alpha. My heart rate was elevated just enough to get my blood pumping but not enough to slow my reflexes. My opponent’s breath, in contrast, wheezed in and out like a winded race horse.

  He was older than I’d thought, I decided, considering the nearly invisible wrinkles lining his forehead. Older and, I hoped, as cocky as most alpha werewolves tended to be around small-statured women.

  I lined myself up for the attack that would lay him out flat...then I tripped. Feet flew out from under me. My sword slapped the ground one second before knees and hands followed.

  Chief Reed’s elbow was around my throat before I could rebalance myself.

  Chapter 22

  Thom must have communicated a stark command via the pack bond. Because he didn’t speak, but every Gate City shifter instantly fell still and silent. The only sound was the wheeze of the Reed alpha’s breathing as he knelt behind me. That plus my own blood pounding in my ears.

  Then the tendril of pack bond that had bounced enthusiastically around my shoulders during Thom’s and my fur-form mornings slid through my fingers like a cat’s tail. Questing, begging for entrance. All I had to do was accept the connection, then the two of us could speak mind to mind, collaborate, get me out of this gnarly mess....

  I didn’t accept. Couldn’t. Still, perhaps the tendril could be used to prevent Thom from doing anything rash?

  To that end, as the Reed alpha pulled my back up against his chest, I wiggled my fingers. Stroked the pack bond, soothing it. Promising this wasn’t as bad as it looked.

  I could only hope I was right.

  I wasn’t given time to learn whether I’d gotten my point across. Instead, I was being spun around to face Chief Reed, who might be past his prime but was definitely no weakling. So quickly I couldn’t break free, he’d shifted his grip on my neck from an elbow to the opposite hand, fingers clenched tight enough to partially restrict my breathing. The sword he’d dropped when he initially pinned me was now back in his dominant hand. The tip eased forward like a stalking rattlesnake, turning me a trifle cross-eyed as it halted too close for comfort to my face.

  This I hadn’t counted on. I relaxed my muscles with an effort. “Perhaps we could talk about this,” I started.

  “The only thing we have to discuss,” Chief Reed growled, “is an eye for an eye.” Then the blade struck.

  I had only one millisecond to think that, perhaps, I’d misjudged the Reed alpha. A millisecond to realize that changing to fox form and back wouldn’t replace an eyeball gouged out. And if the sword tip continued into my brain...well, then I was toast.

  Searing pain followed. I yelped and Thom snarled something that wasn’t words yet was clearly a threat to exact gross bodily damage. Hot blood slid down my cheek.

  But I seized onto the pack tendril and shook it. No, I thought as hard as I could, even though I knew Thom wouldn’t hear me. The cut was painful but it wasn’t maiming. Chief Reed’s reference to eyes had been metaphorical. He’d merely sliced open my skin.

  And, somehow, Thom must have understood. Because there was no eruption of renewed battle. Just the distant gurgle of a stream and the faint shuffle of feet on leaves.

  I blinked hard and Chief Reed’s face came back into focus. His cheekbone, I now noted, boasted a relatively fresh scar. One I’d likely made last fall while harvesting blood to twist him and his pack around my little finger. One that mirrored the cut now seeping bodily fluids onto my own face.

  So I wasn’t surprised when the alpha jerked his head and a pack mate strode forward to take the sword out of his hand. We both watched as my blood was scraped down into a small glass jar. The viscous liquid lay in the bottom, bright red and, as far as I knew, completely useless.

  After all, I was a kitsune. Chief Reed was not.

  But he had taken from me what I’d taken from him. Had taken what he wanted and—swiping up dirt from beside us and scrubbing it into my wound while holding my head steady with that harsh hand at my neck—had ensured I’d bear a scar to match his own.

  Obsessed with appearances. Yes, I’d judged him correctly. I could only hope he would continue to act to type.

  I bided my time as Chief Reed settled back on his heels, not releasing me but waiting out the tears that blocked my vision in response to the wound abrasion. Only once I’d blinked my sight clear again did he intone: “Now we’re even.”

  I was the one who shook my head, well as much as I could with his fist still half-choking me. I was the one who swallowed hard then managed words. “Nowhere near.”

  My opponent raised a single eyebrow. “No? You tested our boundaries and we tested yours. You took my blood and I took yours.”

  “And Kaito?” Despite my intention to keep this conversation light, my heart started racing. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. The point of this farce. “Do you think he’d call this even?”

  Chief Reed’s brow wrinkled further. The hand around my throat loosened. “I have no idea who you’re referring to.”

  This close to the Reed alpha, I could smell the truth on his breath. Not that it meant anything. He likely had never bothered to learn the name of the man he’d murdered.

  And it was time for me to turn the tables. Because I hadn’t tripped accidentally. I’d fallen entirely on purpose, morphing my star ball from sword to skinny dagger when I landed on top of it. The hand that hadn’t been stroking the pack bond a moment earlier had secreted the weapon in the hidden spot between my bent leg’s thigh and calf.

  Now, I whipped my dagger out of its concealment. One sharp edge landed a millimeter above Chief Reed’s left eye before he knew what was happening. A murmur from behind us went still as I halved the already minute distance between blade and flesh.

  Only when our conversation was once again the only sound did I make my demand. “You will admit to the murder.” I let my dagger just barely skim across his blinking eyelashes before I added: “Now.”

  To his credit, Chief Reed didn’t release my throat and scramble backwards. He didn’t signal to his pack to begin fighting either. Instead, he laughed, the deep rumble similar to Thom’s in timbre but lacking familiar warmth at the bottom.

  This alpha would make a bad opponent. I shivered, knowing he already was our enemy, and that I was making him more of one with every second I held a blade above his eye.

  Just as second thoughts started spiraling to epic proportions, Chief Reed agreed. “I’ll gladly admit to murder. But which one in particular?”

  The oath I’d sworn twisted in my gut. Kaito had been killed by a man who didn’t even find the act memorable.

  And that was enough to make me forget how reckless I was being. Instead, I took my time, my words a tribute to Charlie’s fallen pack mate.

  “Do you remember the fox-scented male who visited your territory during three successive full moons? He died in a house fire a week ago. His name was Kaito. He was a good man with a loving family and he will be missed.”

  Chief Reed considered me for one long moment. Then he shook his head just the faintest fraction, even though my dagger skimmed his lashes each time he moved. “Your Kaito is not one of the notches on my war belt,” he promised. “You, little fox, are barking up the wrong tree.”

  Chapter 23

  The alpha’s words smelled like truth, which didn’t mean no one in his pack had killed Kaito. Still, there was a limit to how long I could keep a pack leader pinned without bringing further repercussions down upon Gate City. So I eased my dagger back inch by inch as Chief Reed released his grip on my throat at the same snail’s pace. Finally, skin prickling, I turned my back on danger and strode to Thom’s side.

  “Remember this,” Chief Reed called after me. “Tit for tat.”

  I turned to find that the sun had fallen below the horizon, lack of glare making it easy to see Gate City and Reed pack mates separating into two lines. The battle was apparently over. Sure enough, with a jerk of his chin, both Chief Reed and his underlings faded into the trees, not heading west toward Gate City this time but traveling east toward his own land.

  For his part, Thom’s white-knuckled fists suggested his patience had run thin. Keeping his attention on my face, he growled an order over my shoulder: “Bertrand, Hank, escort our uninvited guests to the border.”