Page 12 of Curses & Kitsune

When I look up, the bathroom is… gone. I’m standing in a black void. Panic squeezes my chest. “T-Tamano? If this is you, cut it out, please!” I cringe. I shouldn’t say please to a jerk like her, but she is a goddess, and my mom taught me manners.

An anguished shout comes from behind me, making me jump. I spin around, and my jaws lock around a piece of sweet, juicy flesh. Blood fills my mouth, and I hunger for more. It’s so sweet.

Must have more. All of it. I will drink my prey dry!

“Jinta, stop!”

My heart plumets into my stomach. Raiden’s eyes are full of anguish, jaw tightly clenched as he fights back a scream. It’s… it’s his flesh. I’m hurting him. No. No! I have to stop this. Have to let go! My jaws are locked in place as I suck and suck down mouthfuls of his life’s essence. Power flows through me, singing in my veins. It’s like the giddy floaty feeling after one too many shots of sake but without the haze of drunkenness. It feels… good.

“You like it, don’t you?” Tamano’s cold voice ghosts over the hairs on my nape. “Just admit it. The power you wield feels good, doesn’t it?”

My eyes mist over with tears as Raiden sucks in a shaky breath, squinting down at me through eyes narrowed with pain.

Reaching out, Tamano slides her finger through the blood sliding down Raiden’s arm and licks it clean. “Delicious… and so potent, too. All kitsune must prey upon humans to grow our strength. Feed off their fear. Their misery. And yes, sometimes even their blood. But shifter blood makes us especially strong. You can be strong, too. You’ll never be weak again. Never be a burden. Next time you find weak and vulnerable prey, do not hesitate,” she whispers in my ear. “Become the predator you’re meant to be. He’ll leave you behind unless you can prove you’re worthy.”

“No!” I snarl and tear myself away from Raiden. The abyss shatters around me, and I’m standing in the bathroom, back against the wall. Cold sweat trickles down my body. I suck in a gulp of air and try to calm my racing heart. I could have seriously hurt Raiden. I’d lost all control. Why did he forgive me? He shouldn’t have. He should’ve locked me up somewhere I can’t hurt anyone.

My phone rings in the bedroom. On shaky knees, I make my way to the bedside table. It’s my boss. “Hello?”

“Onodera!” I jump at the urgency in his voice.

Oh, no. What now?

“Y-Yes, sir?”

“There was a shooting in Asakusa.”

Shootings are so rare in Tokyo. I can count on one hand the shootings that happened last year. Gun laws are so strict that the penalty for possessing a gun, let alone firing a bullet, isn’t worth the risk of getting caught. Raiden’s gang doesn’t own guns, not that they need them, for that very reason. This is huge news.

“Get your ass to the crime scene. Question witnesses. I want a story by this evening!”

“Yes, sir!”

After dressing, I grab my bag and tear from the apartment. A packed train ride later, and I’m jogging through the streets of Asakusa toward the crime scene. A crowd has gathered around the yellow tape, trying to see what’s going on, and police stand guard to ward away anyone who gets too close.

Pulling out my camera, press badge swinging from my neck, I approach the crowd. I excuse myself and squeeze past people to get a better look. The police have sectioned off a big black Mercedes, all the windows shattered, blood spattered on the pavement. My heart falls into my stomach. That car belongs to Raiden. I’d know it anywhere. My gorge rises, and my hands shake so badly I almost drop my camera.

All thoughts of a story fly from my head as I rush up to a police officer. “Excuse me! Was anyone injured?”

“Two passengers were killed,” he answers.

“And the owner of the vehicle?”

“We have no information yet.”

Fuck. Why wouldn’t Raiden tell me someone fired into his car? Unless… if it was hunters and they shot him with aconite, then maybe he’s too badly injured to get in touch with me? The thought turns my blood to ice. Memories of the last time he was shot with aconite bombard me. My stomach churns.

Squeezing through the crowd, I lean against a streetlamp and pull out my phone. Raiden doesn’t answer when I call. I try Ren, and she’s unresponsive as well.

“Raiden? Can you hear me?” I ask through our bond. A minute passes without a reply. I’ve got to see him and make sure he and Ren are okay. After collecting a few brief statements from witnesses, I learn, apparently, two masked bikers drove up to the car and fired into the windows. They think it was organized crime. Then I run from the crime scene and borrow a bike from a rack by the train station. In only minutes, I’ve biked to Raiden’s apartment.

“Did you see Raiden?” I ask the doorman.

His eyes double in size, no doubt at my breathless, harried appearance. “No, sorry.”

“He hasn’t come home at all?” I grip the counter hard, heart racing.

The doorman gives a solemn shake of his head.

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