Page 40 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
Tsumiko staggered as sensation slammed through her body like a silent thunderclap. Her heart leapt and her knees wobbled as reverberations shook the part of her that made her a reaver. “Wh-what …?” But she could barely hear her own voice past the ringing in her ears.
She whirled, searching for the source, but all she could see was salt-scrubbed stone and beached wood. Moving sluggishly, she followed Gingko, who stalked to the water’s edge.
Ripples marred the calm sea from a point off shore, fanning outward until they lapped at the sand, as if reaching for them.
“What was that?” Her voice felt high and tight. “Gingko?”
His ears flattened as another concussive blow jammed into them.
Gingko bared his teeth, taking short breaths, tasting the air like a wild animal. An unnerving growl started somewhere deep in his chest, and he hauled Tsumiko into his arms, making a break for the stairs.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Something’s attacking the wards.” Another collision battered against her very bones. Gingko lengthened his stride. “They’re coming across the water.”
TWENTY THREE
Across the Water
Tsumiko’s stomach plunged as Gingko hurtled upward, taking the stairs not two at a time, but five or seven. As reverse vertigo made breathing a problem, some distant part of her brain reeled through questions. Like where he found the strength to spring so high. And whether the steady rumble of his growl signaled aggression or anger. Or possibly fear, because his behavior had her more than a little scared.
At a shout from the top of the cliff, she craned her neck to see who’d come.
Michael. Of course. He was their ward, after all.
The man had taken to heart Tsumiko’s invitation to get comfortable, abandoning his Western-style suits. The rich lapis lazuli of his favorite tunic flashed briefly from under the knee-length coat that swung loose about his knees. He hadn’t taken the time to button it against the weather. Wielding a crystal-topped staff, Michael looked quite heroic, as if he’d stepped out of some strange fairy tale in which beasts became men and magic hid itself in the souls of the brave.
“Michael!” shouted Gingko. “Can you close that gap?”
“Not easily,” he replied with impressive calm. “Of the seven buoys we placed, two are missing. Our curiosity-seekers are exploiting the resulting weakness. Maybe they want a peek through the crack?”
“If they try, put out their eye.” Gingko set Tsumiko on her feet, but he didn’t let go. “How long have we got?”
Michael drove the end of his staff into the ground and narrowed his eyes. “Long enough.”
The man’s confidence was catching, and the fog of fear retreated enough for Tsumiko to be able to think. She asked, “How can something that attracts the Amaranthine also repel them?”
“Good question!” Taking the same tone he used during her lessons in reaver lore, he said, “The push and pull are akin to the flip sides of a magnet. Once reavers realized that their vulnerability could be realigned, they found the strength to defend themselves. Naturally, we go through a great deal of training to perfect our control.”
Tsumiko frowned. “Do you only defend? Or can you attack?”
“Ah.” Michael spared her a small smile. “My specialty is largely defensive, but yes. It’s possible for reavers to attack—even kill—an Amaranthine. But it shouldn’t come to that. We aren’t without strength.”
Right on cue, Sansa hurtled past, riding Minx. The battler lay low over her feline friend’s shoulder, a fierce expression on her face and a bared blade in her hand.
Tsumiko reached after the woman, as if to pull her back to safely. Wasn’t she risking the life of her unborn child? “What’s shedoing?” Tsumiko moaned as the pair plunged over the cliff edge.
Gingko spoke between clenched teeth. “Defending her home.”
“But what if there’s more than one enemy?” Tsumiko leaned forward as the big cat reappeared on the beach, galloping through the surf. “There could be an army out there!”
“Sansa’s not alone,” said Michael. “She has us.”
Tsumiko would have asked what sort of support she was supposed to provide, but a deep growl set all her hair on end. Like in a dream, when you know there’s a monster behind you, she couldn’t bring herself to turn around.
Gingko turned first … and swore. “Dad?”
Risking a peek, Tsumiko stared fixedly at enormous paws whose claws bit deep into the lawn. Her gaze tracked upward, taking in thick fur, a tapered muzzle, and a fang-baring snarl. She was too close to being stepped on to see much else.
