Skywatching

Argent might be obligated by international law to submit to the rigors of human travel, but he now had free rein within Japan. So once he re-entered the country and passed through customs, Argent was able to take to the sky.

After several high-profile sightings were caught on film, Caleb and Josheb Dare had done a special episode of Dare Together to reveal that avians weren’t the only flight-capable clans. They’d carefully spun things to imply that Amaranthine needed to be in truest form to fly, but … responses were largely favorable.

According to Sinder, skywatching was becoming a favorite pastime in rural Japan. Similar to birdwatching or plane-spotting, there were even school clubs dedicated to catching glimpses of Amaranthine in flight.

Charmed by this news, Harmonious made certain that the Starmark clan was well-represented. His staff publicized upcoming romps, which drove picnickers and photographers into the parks and fields along their flight path.

Other clans were taking to the sky as well. Most surprising, perhaps, was how quickly the custom had won hearts in America. Werewolves were barely a blip on anyone’s radar anymore. Instead, dragons were trending. Lord Beckonthrall and his sons had become media darlings by touring national parks and natural wonders via dragon barge.

Fox sightings were harder to come by, but Argent wasn’t stingy. He varied his route to and from Keishi, diverting when he happened across skywatchers, often circling back when those groups included youngsters. He hated to disappoint the hopes of children.

Night had long-since fallen, so Argent wasn’t expecting an audience. Still, he didn’t take the most direct path home. For a fox, zigzags and double-backs were a way of life. He touched lightly upon a winter-white field, frisked around a lighthouse, and skimmed past sleepy fishing villages as his course turned northward.

And then … blood.

He slowed and lifted his muzzle.

Argent wasn’t immune to fox magic, but illusions lost their power if you knew how they were accomplished. He’d learned a few things from other clans who excelled at the illusory arts. Some of those tricks he’d stolen, for that was how certain clans passed down their knowledge. Some had been freely given—trust for trust, discretion for discretion. Which is how Argent came to realize that Senna and Nona Hightip were shockingly unimaginative. As if there was some inherent superiority to the unsullied foxiness of their patterns.

Borrowing from tanuki tricks and monkey mischief, Argent slipped from view and moved with painstaking stealth toward a lonesome spit of land that he always passed on his homeward treks.

He knew it was a trap. Of course it was a trap, and not a particularly subtle one. But Senna and Nona knew him well enough to make it an effective one. Argent couldn’t very well leave when the fluting cries of a dragon-child carried on the wind.

They’d tried this same thing before. Had Mercy’s mother been a trial run?

Only this child wasn’t an infant. Maker have mercy, there were words mixed in with the cries. Argent had missed them at first because of the language. Sobbing pleas in French lanced through his heart.

Although their maternal inheritances varied widely, all of Kyrie’s half-siblings were bound to Argent by an inviolable vow. That meant the vixens had taken and toyed with his child. His.

He stayed utterly still until his anger cooled to steel.

For months, there had been signs that the Hightip sisters were mapping his travels, marking his homebound trail. That’s how they’d learned of this obscure seaside tract. He passed it without fail. Not because it held any great beauty or personal significance. It wasn’t even a landmark on the true route home. But it was his habit. One they’d finally pinpointed.

Their trap had always been his.

Waves rolled, obscuring scents with damp and brine. He stalked along the shore in the shadow of a silver fox, a doppelganger for a decoy.

Nona wasn’t fooled. This time.

She sauntered forward, the full sleeves of her tunic fluttering. “I know your weakness,” she announced by way of greeting. “I know all of your weaknesses.”

“Hardly a secret. I take in many children.”

She cocked a hip, propping her hand on it. “Compensating for something?”

He sidestepped, avoiding Senna’s attempt to ambush him from behind. Gaze still fixed on Nona, he coolly inquired, “Did you have a complaint for your spokesperson? Or perhaps a confession? I will hear you out.”

“He’s withered by the Waning,” taunted Senna. “Unable to rise in a mating flight.”

“Perhaps his interest has already cooled for the woman in his den,” Nona said sweetly.

“I hear it’s the manservant he keeps closest. Some do develop a taste for squandering.”

“More likely he’s bound to that woman’s will.” Nona took a step forward. “Is she cowed in some corner, leaving you free to … roam?”

Their postures slipped into salacious territory.

Did they actually think he could be seduced?

He calmly inquired, “Are you cuckolding your patron?”

Senna flushed, and her gaze promised death. Interesting.

Nona’s chin went up, eyes glittering. “We could free you.”

“Why would you have the means to unfetter my soul?”

With a jab of her finger, Senna triumphantly exclaimed, “I told you he wasn’t free! He’s a kept lord!”

Nona’s lip curled. “Well kept. His flourish certainly points to regular feasting. Why are you not among the Broken, Argent?”

“Maybe the rest of the Five supp with him. It’s what draws them to his den over and again.”

Argent attempted to redirect them in a more pertinent direction. “Are you claiming to be responsible for my captivity?”

Senna shrugged. “You were too unreasonable. You deserved what you got.”

“Did I, now?”

“You wanted to hear our complaints, didn’t you, Spokesperson? You spurned us.”

Argent asked, “Which of you was I meant to take?”

They exchanged a look.

“Both of you? That’s not our way. Ah, but you have had other influences.” He tried for the gossipy tone Jacques employed with great effect. “Which of you was the dragon bedding in his boredom? Or should I be asking which dragon? I understand the elder twin was quite the philanderer. Or was it their sire? Did you veil yourselves in illusions, letting him think he was visited by willing winds?”

“I think he’s jealous,” Senna smugly whispered.

“I think he should mind his own business.” Nona’s eyes flicked to a point just past Argent’s shoulder. “I want him dead.”

Then came the ambush. Argent’s defensive array gleamed into sharp focus when it stopped the swipe of claws that sizzled faintly against his sigilcraft. With an unhurried pivot, he faced his third attacker.

“Hold still.” Anger and sway and confidence.

Argent strolled in a circle around the Rogue, mostly to prove he wasn’t taking orders. Honestly, he was underwhelmed. Oh, the colors were correct—purple hair, red eyes. But without the vibrant scales and speckling that so many of his progeny had inherited, the Rogue didn’t make much of an impression. Bland. Insipid. But a dragon was a dragon, and Argent wasn’t fool enough to ignore the two vixens in striking distance.

“My father is dead. Are you the one who killed him?”

“Alas, no.” Argent wasn’t volunteering anything further. “Shisoku, I presume?”

The dragon scowled at Nona. “You promised revenge.”

She said, “Even if the final blow wasn’t his, the scheme was.”

Senna added, “Don’t forget the children. He’s been snatching them up.”

The Rogue’s gaze turned shrewd. “You are the reason for survivors? How many of my offspring have you stolen?”

“How many of them have you abandoned?”

“I never bothered to count. Too many failed attempts.” His smile was tight, humorless. “I liked trying, though.”

Argent felt several tails slip free, fanning around him in a warning display.

“Nona and Senna were finding them for me, but the lab was flattened. The guards all said you took them. Where is Stately House?”

Looking to Nona, Argent inquired, “Are you having trouble finding the place? How frustrating for you. Especially since you visited once before.”

She seethed in silence.

Shisoku tried again. “Lead us there. I want those children.”

“Why?” asked Argent, curious what they thought they could do.

“It is my turn to be Father, and I will be better at it. I am founding a clan.” He breezily announced, “They are mine. If they do not come when I call, I will kill them.”

“I am afraid their true father would never allow such a thing.” More tails flashed into the open, causing Senna to give a little gasp and shimmy.

Shisoku frowned. “What do you mean true father? There is only me. They bred true. They have my eyes, do they not? They have my hair and my horns, my strength and my speed?” He flexed his claws. “Some even have my sting.”

Nona said, “Argent is referring to himself. He adopts them.”

“Children are his weakness.” Senna’s gaze flicked briefly in the direction from which the whimpers of a child still came at intervals.

And with that one glance, Argent’s swiftly rearranged his priorities. There was nothing to be gained from questioning these three. So he deployed another series of sigils and left them quizzing an illusion.

He didn’t make it far before Nona barked, “He’s running!”

Argent sent a silver fox racing out to sea and paused long enough to mark the features of the dragon that leapt into the sky after it, dark and dangerous and reeking of poison.

“Waste of time,” muttered Nona. “He’ll have gone for the child.”

Before the vixens could act on that entirely accurate assumption, Argent darted away, intent on plucking the bait from tonight’s trap.

They’d stranded a child near the end of the spit, and if the litter of pebbles on the sand was any indication, Shisoku had been tormenting the child by pitching things at him. It made so little sense, claiming to want his children enough to reclaim them, all while abusing the one in his grasp.

Argent swept up a boy who couldn’t have been more than three years old, offering words of comfort in French, using the very same baby talk that Jackie crooned over their youngsters. “Hush, child. You are safe from the monsters. Breathe, little one. No one will hurt you. You are safe.”

Wide eyes lifted to his—red, further reddened by tears.

“I heard you, and I came for you. Can you trust me?” He caressed matted hair, his thumb bumping over tiny horns. “We must fly fast. Hold on.”

The little boy didn’t struggle, even when Argent took the time to banish every tracer and tether the vixens had plastered to pale skin. He tutted over one sigil whose only purpose was to inflict pain if he made any sound. Which meant that this boy’s cries for help had cost him.

“I apologize for taking so long to find you. All will be well.”

Swinging in a long, low arc, Argent chose a course. Before long, a sigil on his thigh warmed slightly, alerting him to the fact that the call for support he’d triggered earlier had done its good work.

“Help is on the way,” he murmured. “Have you ever met a wolf? Ours are wild and strong and loyal and good.”

Just then, a dragon’s roar came rolling from far out over the water. No doubt Argent’s illusion had faded, frustrating its pursuer. Not entirely unexpected, but the noise startled the boy, and Argent winced at the sudden push of claws through cloth.

“Easy, now. He is noisy, but he cannot find us.” Pressing a kiss to the child’s forehead, Argent added, “Your Uncle Jackie will be noisy, too, once sees the state of my suit. He is very particular about clothes. You shall have better ones. He will insist.”

Argent flew as fast as he dared, aiming in the direction from which the Elderboughs would be coming. There was nothing in this part of the countryside but orchards and paddies and pastures. Was that a storm cloud piled up in the distance? He listed sideways and blinked hard. The stars had begun to double and blur.

“Sting, hmm? Perhaps I will give you to Sibley. Your brother was very brave, just as you have been … very brave. Mmm.” Argent tightened his hold on his small passenger. “This might be bad. I hope they hurry.”

A small eternity later, when a howl split the night, Argent wobbled toward it.

“All right, child. Nothing to fear now.”

But Argent’s sinking flight turned to falling. He registered a streak of light fur, bright as lightning, and then he was swept up and carried aloft.

“Argent! What’s wrong?”

“Pim,” he managed as more wolves surrounded them. “He did not mean to poison me.”