Chapter 21
TIPPY
I stare at the spot where just a moment ago Jax stood, decked out in a red velvet cape.
He looked incredible, almost regal, his head held high, dark hair swept back and his eyes shining as they held mine
And then there was a spark and poof! Just like that, he’s gone.
There’s nothing, not even a wisp of vapor. I almost wish he still vaped, so that little plume of peppermint could remind me he’d been here.
But of course I don’t want that. Not really. I know he’s so much safer now, without those damn things in his pocket.
Goddess willing, he’ll be back before sunset.
“That all went smoothly,” Aunt Felicia beams. There’s murmured agreement before Otis excuses himself to go check that the computer systems are primed to pick up signals from the bugging devices, while Brody and Silas remain in the vault to keep a careful watch on the books of runes.
I stand forlornly, with the carpet bag of needles and thread in my hand.
“There’s nothing more we can do now,” my aunt says, taking it gently from my grasp. “We have to trust in the runes. You’ve done a wonderful job, and you must be exhausted. Go and get some rest, darling.”
It’s tempting. My fingers are sore from sewing.
Each rune letter had to be placed separately, and sewn in the right order.
But it’s not just my fingers that are sore.
I’ve been pretty acrobatic these past few days in ways I’ve never experienced before.
And then our final night together, when Jax knotted me, was intense. Beautiful, but intense.
But resting doesn’t sit well with me either. I am too restless, too edgy. I will be until Jax returns. I’m not expected at Digger’s today, he’s given me an extra day off, and suddenly I have a strong urge to visit Vixenville on the south side of town. To see my mom and my little sisters.
I need to tell Mom I’m dating a wolf, that it’s serious and that means—eek—that the vixen-shifter community might have to put up with a male visiting from time to time.
And… who knows, in the not-too-distant future, a hybrid youngling with wolf blood running in their veins might be Mom’s first grandchild.
“I think I’ll go see Mom and my siblings,” I say.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Tippy-Anna.” Aunt Felicia hugs me. “Have a lovely morning. Give them my love. And don’t worry about your young man. He’ll be back in the blink of an eye.”
I like the way she calls him my young man.
And I sure hope her intuition is right about him being back in the blink of an eye.
I get on my scooter and ride through the quiet early morning streets. A handful of monsters are heading out for their early shifts, ambling to the elevators that will take them to the lower levels, which are dedicated to mining and industry, and the manufacturing of luxury goods.
And, more sinister, the munitions factory on level six. The bombs and missiles, the jeeps and armored cars, all being sent up and stockpiled in the Periphery.
For gods knows what evil purpose.
I shudder and put the thought from my head, focusing on the feel of the light breeze that blows through the tunnels as I ride.
When I arrive at the vixens’ lair on the other side of town, I leave my scooter outside and let myself in through the tall metal gate.
The posts are all yarn-bombed with different-colored wools.
Vixen shifters love to knit. And crochet.
They make jumpers for the miners, darn socks, repair torn outfits, and crochet beanies for monster babies, all with different-shaped holes for ears and horns.
They cook meals for aging monsters in the care homes and deliver them each day.
Vixen shifters are good women. Strong, and giving, and supportive of all species here.
Except fox shifters.
Nope. They don’t have much time for the fathers of their cubs.
I wonder if sometimes, it’s unfair, denying dads the right to watch their kids grow up. Even the boys are sent off to boarding school, and then, in early adulthood, to work, in the hope they’ll see the error of their ways. Become good fathers. Good husbands.
Few return, except during the annual rutting season. But they soon leave again. Maybe they just can’t live up to the high expectations of us females.
Maybe we’ve been too harsh. A tad misguided. Prejudiced, even.
Just like we’ve been toward wolves.
My stomach tightens as I walk along the pristine gravel path toward the main lair. Shit, how am I going to fess up to Mom?
No chickening out, Tippy Honeywell.
You are mated to a wolf and Mom and the whole lair are just going to have to suck that up.
I find Mom in the communal kitchen. A group of kids with bright faces, their hair all shades of red, from strawberry blonde to burgundy, are eating breakfast before school.
“Tippy-Anna!” Mom’s eyes pop. “What are you doing here so early?”
She hobbles toward me to give me a hug.
I frown. “Is your leg playing up?”
“Shocking arthritis in my knee, bone on bone apparently.” Mom grimaces. “They want to give me an injection of something, but I’m putting it off.”
“Oh Mom, I’m sorry to hear that.”
My four sisters, Lou, Meg, Millie, and Talia spot me, and they squeal and run over to greet me. They range from eight years old into their mid-teens, and their eyes are bright and full of curiosity. I am the only wixen of our generation, so my freedom is something they are fascinated by.
I’m soon smothered in a group hug. “Sorry I haven’t been to see you recently,” I murmur into their hair, which smells of apple shampoo and home. “I promise to come back more often.”
They nod and chat for a few minutes about what they’ve been up to. Then they skip away to get their school bags and head over to the schoolroom on the other side of Vixenville.
When everyone has left, Mom flops down on a stool. “Probably won’t be able to get up again, but never mind. How’ve you been, sweetheart? How’s your job at Digger’s going?”
“Good. Busy as always.”
“And your—” she looks pained, as if it hurts to say it, “—wixen training? Are you getting much out of it?” She looks at me over the top of her glasses, her eyes cloudy. “I do hope your aunt isn’t leading you too far off the vixen’s path.”
I bite my lip. Felicia is the black sheep of the family.
Wixens in each generation break the mold, move away from the lair and live freely in the Labyrinth, usually running apothecaries as Auntie does.
In the past, some have returned and had pups, but most do not.
Mom has not been happy with my initiation into wixen-hood.
She always knew it meant a different life for me.
All she wants is for me to come back to the lair, go through the necessary, if perfunctory, mating with a fox shifter and have cubs.
And learn to knit beanies.
I steel myself to tell her that my life is going to be very different than any vixen shifter’s has been—for centuries.
This is not going to an easy conversation.
But I can’t hide my destiny from her.
“Mom,” I say, sitting down next to her. “I-I need to tell you something.”
“Are you coming home to live?” Mum’s face brightens.
I shake my head, and take a deep breath. “Remember I told you about that human, Jax, who I became friends with?”
“The one you couldn’t stop worrying about? He smoked or something, right? He sounded like a bit of a no-hoper, to be honest. How is he doing?”
“He’s doing really well. He doesn’t smoke—I erm, cured him of that. And now he’s stopped vaping, too.”
“That’s good. I guess you’ve developed some potion-making skills with your aunt, then.”
“Yes.” I clasp my hands and pick at my claws. “There’s just one thing. While he was having a few personal problems, he got turned into a werewolf. “
“What! Oh, the poor boy. How?”
“It was a while back. Long story, but being turned actually saved him, put him back on the right path.”
Mom looks incredulous. “Becoming a werewolf helped him? Oh no, I don’t think that’s right…”
“It did, Mom, he’s an amazing guy now.”
“Tippy-Anna, I don’t want you associating with him now that he’s a werewolf.”
Oof, awkward.
“Ah, well, here’s the thing…” I drag in another breath, stare at the kitchen ceiling with its rows of drying herbs and strings of garlic, then I blurt out, “Well, here’s the thing.
I was enlisted to help him quit vaping by his pack leader, and erm, yeah, well, one thing led to another and now…
we’re together. As in, we’re… mate bonded. ”
Mom’s mouth gapes as she stares at me.
I wince at her reaction, but it’s too late now, I can’t unsay it. “It’s serious, Mom, we love each other.”
Mom shakes her head until her ears quiver. “I knew your aunt would lead you astray,” she wails. “She’s always been sympathetic to wolves, that one.”
“Auntie had nothing to do with it.” Hmm, that might be little white lie.
Mom’s on a roll now. “Her and that wolf, that Trojan pack fella, she reckoned he was a mage.” She snorts.
“She had such a thing for him. She used to run away, disappear to gods-knows-where on the back of his motorbike. Goddess knows what they got up to. Your nan disapproved. Tried to stop it. But when Felicia started up that wixen nonsense, just like her great aunt Sophie before her, we knew she was on the wrong path. Which is why, of course, she would never come home and mate with a fox and have cubs. Always wild, always dancing, singing, going to festivals.’ Mom sniffs.
“She should be the one with an arthritic knee, not me.”
“Maybe the dancing’s been good for her,” I murmur.
Mom looks at me, her brows pulled tight over worried eyes. “You’re serious, aren’t you? About this wolf—man?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“You’ve been soft on him for years—I guessed, you know. Did you realize back then that he was wolfen?”
“I didn’t. But it changes nothing. I loved him before, I love him now.”
“Dear, oh dear.” Mom wrings her hands. “I just don’t want your heart broken, my sweetling. Wolves… I mean, aren’t they worse parents than foxes?”
“That’s just not true, Mom. I’ve spent time down in Wolftown recently. They’re very family-minded, and the males are as active in raising their young as the females.”
“They are? You mean, they stick around?”
“Absolutely. It’s time to question your prejudices, Mom. Maybe it’s time vixen shifters got out and about a bit more, and saw what happens elsewhere.”
Mom sighs. “Sometimes I do wonder if we should…”
I grab the opportunity. “I need to tell you more about Jax, and what he’s doing for the Labyrinth right now. Can you please put your kind and loving vixen-shifter ears on and hear me out?”
“Okay. Okay, honey.” Mom sits back and crosses her hands. Her ears prick up. “See, I’m listening.”
I take a big breath. “As we speak, Jax is undertaking a very important mission, overseen by our sheriff.”
“Otis Cane? He’s such a lovely orc, and as good a sheriff as his father.” Mom has always respected the law.
“Well, I don’t want to scare you, but this mission is to save all of us from some seriously nasty plans the human authorities are hatching.”
“Plans that will hurt us?”
“If the humans put them into action, yes, Mom. All of us.”
Mom’s hand creeps to her mouth, her eyes wide. Vixen shifters are sheltered from the rest of the Labyrinth by their living arrangements, but she needs to know there is evil lurking outside of this small spot.
Trying not to alarm her too much, I tell her a sketchy version of what’s going on, and finish with Jax’s mission to spy on the human authorities.
“So you’re telling me he’s up in Sparkle right now?” Mom says. “Oh my, oh my. Tippy-Anna!”
“Yes, he’s very brave,” I say proudly.
“It does sound like it.” Mom looks at me, a frown still pleating her brows. “So what does this mean? That you won’t ever come home? That you’ll live with him in a wolf pack?” Mom’s lips quiver.
“Nothing’s decided yet. We’re very newly mated. But I was hoping Vixenville would be open to me bringing Jax here for a visit.”
Mom’s lips tighten. “I would have to discuss it with the committee.” Then her face softens. “We miss you, daughter of mine. And I’m not like your nan. I accept that times have changed. I guess we have to recognize that. Tell me, does he treat you well, this wolfman?”
“He treats me very well, Mom.”
Mom’s face relaxes. “I guess that’s a start. Now, I really have to clear up the breakfast things. Those younglings are such messy pups.”
“I’ll help you, and we can talk some more while we do it.”
“Thank you, my darling,” she says. She tries to stand up, then sits down with a wince. “Oh goddess, my knee’s locked up again.”
“Let me look at it,” I order, and when she dutifully obeys, I place my hands on her knee.
It’s hot and swollen. I cup the joint between my palms for long moments and words come to me, words I don’t understand, but I recite them as I hear them.
Suddenly there’s a vibration in my palms, heat flowing through my hands into the joint.
We both stare at my hands.
I close my eyes and focus on the words. “Gradat deg matata,” I repeat again.
“Goodness gracious,” Mom says. She flexes her knee. Extends her leg out in front of her, then stands up gingerly.
“There’s absolutely no pain,” she exclaims, bearing weight through the leg. “Tippy-Anna what did you just do?”
I smile. Shrug it off. “Just a new technique I learned recently.”
But I know it’s much, much more than that.
It’s my wixen magic getting stronger.
And it’s happened because I am mate bonded to a wolf.