Heir of the Dog Black Dog - Hailey Edwards Page 0,9

Mom’s. So are like a hundred bespelled birds.”

“Hmph?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in later.”

A long-suffering sigh I took as a yes blasted my ear.

“See you in a few.” I ended the call and leaned against my car, thinking.

Mom reemerged wearing navy capris, a navy and white striped tank top and matching flip-flops. I waved bye as she slid behind the wheel of her burnt-orange mini Cooper and backed down the driveway past me.

While I waited on Mai to climb out of bed, get reacquainted with her pants and make the fifteen-minute run from our apartment to Mom’s house, I snapped a picture of the lawn and texted it to Shaw with the caption We need to talk. Then I plugged headphones into my cell and blared Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers’ “Don’t Come Around Here No More” to drown out all the racket.

Chapter Seven

About the time I began worrying Mai had fallen back asleep, sharp teeth sank into my ankle, and I yelped. A dainty red fox sat on her haunches beside me. Twitching her bottlebrush tail, she yipped twice while narrowing her large golden eyes on my headphones. Oops.

“Did you have to bite me?” I unplugged and tucked away my phone and earbuds. “Damn it, Mai, that hurt.”

She bared pointy teeth as if to say I’m here, now what?

“It’s not my fault you went running with what’s-his-name last night instead of climbing into bed at a decent hour,” said the roomie who had been out chasing a bonus check all night.

Her ears flattened against her skull.

“Fine. Here’s the deal. We get rid of the birds, and Mom pays us in huevos rancheros and fajitas.”

Counting on Mom to over-order, I figured I would split my take with Mai.

Mai huffed out a gusty sigh. Her sleek ears swiveled as the birds flapped their wings or hopped in place, reacting to the predator in their midst. I began doubting they could leave, wondering if they were magically adhered to the grass and if there was an undetectable spell invoked here, until a series of rapid-fire yips preceded a bolt of orange-red fur that pounced into the fray wearing an all-too-human grin.

Utter stillness reigned. Three, two...

Feathers exploded in an upward torrent of frantic corvids desperate to escape the kitsune’s jaws.

Mai snapped her jaws then, caught one by its tail feathers and flung it side to side before moving on to her next victim.

Five minutes later, the lawn was clear, and Mai flopped onto the grass panting.

“Good work.” I walked over and stroked her head. Her fur was warm silk under my fingers. “You should get changed before Mom gets back. She’s had enough excitement for one day.” After dealing with the birds, if she caught Mai mid-shift or just plain naked, she might flip. I went to the fence and let Mai into the backyard. “The patio doors should be unlocked. I’ve got spare clothes in the bottom of the bureau in my old room. Take whatever you want.”

With an imperious flick of her tail, Mai hefted herself onto her feet and trotted past me.

By the time Mom returned with breakfast, her yard would be back to normal, making it easier for her to pretend I was too. She never asked me for specifics on Mai, so I never confided in her that my best friend was a kitsune, an ancient breed of fox shifter, who shared my love of the nightlife and steaks with plenty of moo left in them.

Mom needed Mai to be an average young woman of Japanese descent. Not another fae like me.

So we all faked it.

Sometimes, even if it was a lie, it felt nice being normal.

After eating with Mom, I gave Mai a lift back to our apartment. With our bellies full of fajita, I proclaimed it siesta time. I got one foot through the door before Mai kicked off her borrowed flip-flops and faced me.

“Is there something not feathery you’d like to talk about?” She set her hands on her slim hips. “Before you even consider lying, you should know I smell his lure all over you.”

Busted. I shut the door and slumped against it, brought my keys up and used one to scratch off my flaking nail polish. “Shaw’s back.”

“And?”

I blew glittery flakes from my thumb onto the floor. “We bumped into each other this morning.”

The urge to caress the still-tingling spot where he had fed was an itch in my palm. I resisted because the last thing I wanted was anyone’s pity.

Just