Inherit (10 page)

Nevaeh and Zivalus are in the living room with a huge group of gyrating, stomping dancers. She’s all liquid grace, and he’s smooth, rhythmic push and pull. My throat catches. They even move perfectly together. They belong with each other.

Vee sees me, splits off from the group, and runs at me with a wide smile.

“I thought you weren’t coming after all!” she shouts over the horns blaring in the song. “I see you brought a DATE!”

Jonas keeps his smile bland, but I want to sink right through the vibrating floorboards.

“I’ll get us a drink,” Jonas says. “Would you like something, Nevaeh?”

“Sure! Thanks!” She clutches my forearms and squeals when he weaves through the dancers to the kitchen. “Wren! He’s so right for you! How has everything been?”

“Weird!” I yell. I don’t have the energy to explain everything at the volume required for general understanding, but I don’t need to. Vee’s greenish eyes fill with sympathy and sweet understanding.

“It’s a pretty random crowd tonight!” Her eyes dart around to the people grouped along the walls and slumped on the couches. When I follow where her eyes went, I realize I don’t know half the people here. A lot of them look older, bored, and kind of goth. They are a stark contrast to the jumping, happy group on the dance floor.

“Who are all these people?” I shout.

“I guess people Elijah knows?” Vee answers.

Jonas comes back with tall red plastic cups sloshing over with warm, flat beer. “Sorry. This was all there was to choose from.”

Vee thanks him, takes a long sip, then sputters some out when a new song comes on. She puts a fist in the air and lets out a whoop. “Come and dance! Dance, Wren!”

Jonas shakes his head at my questioning look. “Sorry. My spine is soldered to my hipbones! I’ve got no rhythm!”

I take my cup and want to maybe ask him again to dance, maybe tell him I’ll come back to him when the song is over, maybe ask where he’ll be when I’m done dancing. Instead I say nothing, take a bitter sip, follow Nevaeh, and get caught in the crush of dancers.

I catch glimpses of Jonas sitting on the arm of the couch, sipping his beer. When he catches my eye, he smiles, and raises his cup to me.

The music pulls me in and I get lost in the beats. The party crushes closer as more people arrive. Time flies by in a confusing blur, punctuated by the occasional genesis of a new group of people. I sip from the cup and the beer makes my head spin and my body tilt. I don’t know if I’m tipsy or overcome by the music. I’ve lost track of Jonas.

After a few heart-pumping songs, Nevaeh and Zivalus drift over to a couch and I follow reluctantly, the unwanted third wheel with no sure direction. No matter how eagerly they call me over, I know I make a crowd out of their cozy twosome, so I point to my cup and excuse myself on the grounds that I need more beer even though I clearly don’t.

The narrow galley kitchen is a whole other world, insulated from all but the most insistent beats of the music and over-bright in a wash of white-blue fluorescence buzzing from a circular light bulb on the low ceiling.

I see the back of Jonas’s jacket and feel a swell of happiness that deflates as quickly as it welled up.

He isn’t alone.

There are five other guys, all holding court around one girl.

She’s slim and tall with long, tanned legs, crossed neatly, and high-heeled boots that should have to be registered as weapons. Her hair is pink. Not pink like she used some cheap Kool-Aid packets and dyed her forehead in the process or polyester wig pink; it’s soft, shiny pink hair like I’ve never seen except on Barbie mermaids, and it hangs in long waves over her shoulders. She has perfect golden skin that would laugh if a zit came within a hundred feet, a perky nose, soft full lips that make even me think about kissing, and big, almond-shaped eyes.

Eyes that glow with a gold color I know too well.

When she catches sight of me, she clucks her tongue softly and looks at me with a pity I don’t understand but instantly hate. Why is this trampy pink-haired creep pitying me?

I’m no one to be pitied. Maybe I am short with fly-aways and a hobo-chic sense of style. But I’m a hard worker, a good student, a girl with friends, and a crush who’s a little more than a crush.

Or is he? Jonas doesn’t even notice I’m right behind him. There’s a weird drink-the-Kool-Aid feel to the room, like this girl has all these guys under some kind of spell. This whole scene is definitely double-runging up my weird ladder.

“You must be Wren,” the pink-haired girl sing-songs. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

My back goes up. Fine, she’s heard about me. Why do I know nothing about her? “I don’t think we’ve met.”

Her laugh rings around the room, a million wind-chimes in a spring breeze. “Let me introduce myself.” She hops off of the counter and stands with one hip jutted out, one eyebrow raised, and a smirk on her lips. “My name is Sakura Kochi. We are first cousins.”

I don’t have a cousin. My parents were both only children. There’s no way. I relay this information to Sakura Kochi and attempt not to stutter through the telling.

She flutters her fingers and giggles. Her adoring audience leans closer, but it’s almost like she and I are trapped in our own little bubble, semi-private in the crowd. “I am the daughter of your father’s younger sister. My grandmother was our grandfather’s mistress. That is why your father didn’t talk about my existence.” She keeps a sweet smile, but her words are knife-blade sharp.

“Why are you here?” Every nerve in my body feels singed. Something is really wrong.

Her smile makes me think of a nest of coiled snakes. “To get to know you better, Wren. When we discovered that Sofu sent Kaji to you, my mother decided to send me so I could learn more about you.”

“Sofu? Kaji?” It’s embarrassing that I don’t know more about my own family, but it isn’t really my fault. My father never stuck around long enough to tell me anything.

“Sofu. Our grandfather,” she says with a scowl. “And Kaji. The family’s most powerful kitsune.” I look at her blankly and she rolls her eyes. “The fox. Kaji.”

“We named her Loki,” I correct, and feel a pleasant tingle when Sakura’s perfect face goes blotchy and red.

“That isn’t her name.”

When Sakura is relaxed and in control, she looks cute, sweet, likable. But with her temper on edge, she looks like a pink-haired toddler about to lose it. For the first time since I walked into the kitchen, I feel like I might know how to get the upper hand with her.

“Well, Sofu did send her to
me
. So I named her.” I shrug. “Not that it matters to you anyway. I mean, she’s my pet.”

“
Pet
?” Sakura’s face is raspberry-Jello-shot red. Her eyes are beads of fury and some very unattractive spittle collects in the corners of her mouth. “Kaji is not a pet, you idiot! She possesses incredible power, probably more than—” She stops, glances at the boys staring at her with mouths hanging open. Not one except Jonas looks like he has a coherent thought in his head. I guess purple eyes and a sexy pout will do that to the developing male brain.

My cousin takes a deep breath, pops a smile back on her face, smoothes her pink hair, and forces a giggle that tricks everyone else into thinking all is right and good. “I know we just met, but you have to understand just a few teeny tiny things.”

I nod. “Okay. Because I really don’t know that much about Loki—”

“Kaji,” she snaps. “And of course you don’t know that much! You have no idea the years I’ve spent training to earn the right to have Kaji as my kitsune. I sat at Sofu’s side through so many long, boring lessons because I knew she would be my reward. But, for some reason, he sent her here.”

“I know you must be pissed about that.” Pissed doesn’t begin to describe the look that morphs her face into something resembling a freakish Halloween mask. “But I’m just as confused as you are. I have no idea why our grandpa sent Loki to me, and I’m just as curious about finding out the answers as you are.”

Her face changes again, her features smoothing like all the hostile, tight lines have melted down a little. Her voice is pure saccharine. “You are so wrong, sweetie. See, I’m not curious at all. And I’m not looking for any answers. What I want is what you have. Because it was never yours to begin with.” Her tone is all sugar and arsenic, and I feel the slow burn of its poison.

I’m not new to being rejected. I have a very long history dealing with it, actually. I’ve developed a fairly thick shell when it comes to not being the chosen one.

Or I thought I did. It’s one thing to be rejected by my parents and ignored by my family in Japan for almost two decades. It’s another entirely to have someone my own age, someone I would have thought I could trust, telling me that I’m the loser one more time.

My back goes up. My spine gets steely. “What I have was mailed across thousands of miles with my name is big black letters on the box, Sakura. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t some mix-up.” No matter what kind of trouble Loki’s given me so far, she’s mine to protect, and I will do that no matter what it takes.

“Just because our idiot grandfather gift wrapped Kaji for you doesn’t mean you deserve her.” She shrugs, her pastel hair tumbling over her shoulders. “Look, I don’t know how to say this, but I’ll try. You’re not the one. You’re not trained. You have no natural talents. You have no chance of appreciating this gift as it should be appreciated. So just step back and accept it. I’m the chosen one, Wren. Trust me, you don’t even want to think about what it would be like if you actually were. So much pressure. So much dedication. So much responsibility. You have no idea how hard it all is. And there’s no way you’d be up to the challenge of handling it.”

Rage boils and pops through me, and I lose it just a little. “If that’s what it takes to keep Loki, then maybe Sofu didn’t make a mistake at all. Maybe I am the one. Because I’m used to pressure you couldn’t imagine, couldn’t even dream of. You have no idea what my life is like on a day to day. Trust me, it’s nothing a spoiled brat like you would be able to handle. I have more responsibility and pressure on my shoulders than most adults have.” And way more than the two who were supposed to take care of me ever bothered to shoulder.

“You’re getting so upset.” She clucks her tongue at me and gives me a sugary, condescending smile. “Don’t take it so personally. You need to accept who you are and all your limitations. And that means you have to come to terms with the fact that your place is under me.”

“We’ll see about that.” My fists are balled up, my jaw is clenched, and I’m shaking so hard, I feel like I’m about to have a seizure.

My cousin stifles a dismissive giggle that makes me feel impotent and doubly furious.

“Wren, I’m so glad I met you.” She takes two steps forward and grabs me in a hug so bruising, I know what an anaconda victim must feel like. She leans her mouth close to my ear and hisses, “I can tell we’re going to be best
friends
.”

I feel faint from the lack of blood her hug-tourniquet is causing. She needs to brush up on her English, because I think she misspoke. The word she is looking for is most definitely
enemies.

Chapter 11

Sakura sashays out of the kitchen and five of the six guys who spent the last fifteen minutes drooling over every word out of her mouth follow her like drones. The only one who stays behind is Jonas.

“So that was random.” I toss my red cup into the garbage can under the sink.

Jonas blinks a few times like he’s just waking up. “Really random. You didn’t know Sakura was coming to America? No one called you or your grandma?”

“Nope. Unless Bestemor got the call and forgot to tell me. But she’s been so much better lately.”

The florescent light pops and crackles over our heads.

“She seems really, er, different.” Jonas rubs his hand on the back of his neck. “And she’s really pretty.” He notices my expression and rushes to say, “What I mean is I could tell you two were cousins right away. You look so similar.”

If Jonas complimenting Sakura wasn’t bad enough, the comparison is even worse. “I do
not
look like that pink-haired half-wit. She looks one of those bitchy-bored Bratz dolls.”

“I think her hair is interesting.” Jonas’s face is serious, but his eyes tease me.

“Interesting? Please. How about ‘desperate for attention’? And she didn’t seem nice. She seemed like she wanted something and was going to do what she needed to do to get it.”

“What do you think she wants?” He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“She seemed to take a lot of interest in Loki.” I want to lean my head on his shoulder and think this all out. I content myself with taking one step closer to him.

“I thought I heard her say that Loki was your family’s most powerful fox. Does that mean there’re more foxes?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know about any of this.” A cold shiver runs over my skin. “Do you mind ditching the party early, Jonas? I kind of want to get home and check on Bestemor.” And Loki, but I don’t tell him that.

“No problem.” He takes his hands out of his pockets and reaches for my arm, but seems to think better of it and sticks them back in.

I lead the way out of the kitchen and look for Nevaeh so I can say good-bye. It isn’t hard to spot her. Not with a pink-haired leech attached to her ass.

I rush into the middle of all the dancing bodies where Sakura and Nevaeh are sashaying together as a perfect, funky unit that’s bringing on an avalanche of cheers and whistles. Vee sees me and waves me over.

“Wren! I met your cousin! She’s awesome! Come dance with us, sweetie!”

Sakura’s smile is so slimy sweet I feel like I just got sprayed down with corn syrup.

“Can’t, Vee! I have to head home and check Bestemor! Call me later!”

Vee nods and blows me a kiss before she goes back to having an amazing time with my phony, interfering cousin. I can’t imagine feeling any angrier when Sakura blows a kiss my way. What a big, fat faker! What a diabolical loser!

Then I realize the kiss wasn’t for me. Jonas’s perfect, chiseled cheekbones are bright red.