Aftermath: Silver Foxes, #8

By M.R. Anglin

After Kathra's rescue from the obsessive Prince Tolan, J.R. enjoys the peace of the Isle—a peace shattered when he receives a message from an old flame. Vix is being hunted by Rhonda, a notorious assassin whose bizarre, psychological methods have reduced Vix to a trembling mass of goo. J.R. travels to Vix's location with motives of his own but soon gets caught up in Rhonda's little diversion. Is J.R. and Vix up for her sport, or will it be game over for both of them?

 

Back on the Isle, Kathra receives a letter from Skitter. She's relieved to see he made it back to Kasate in one piece, but his home life is more complicated than she could have ever imagined.

 

In Drymairad, King Maximilian discovers Prince Tolan's attempted kidnapping of three Losierres girls, and it doesn't look like the young prince is finished yet. Coupled with internal antagonism from within his own government, he doesn't have time to think about much else. Though, he might be able to use all this drama to his advantage . . .

 

Meanwhile, Celeste learns she is pregnant—which is good news or bad news, depending on who you ask.

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.R. Anglin
• Release date: Oct 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386053064

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

S till raining? Xena groaned as she slumped on the daybed placed beneath the living room window. Won’t it ever stop?

J.R. looked at the vixen over the edge of the holo-player he had been reading. She was peering out at the rain falling in sheets against the window sill. The water obscured the usual grandeur of the Isle de Losierres. Normally, a person could see clear to the beach along with the Isle’s winding roads and abundant fruit and palm trees. But not today.

Xena’s silver fur glistened in the muted gray light. She had her dull, black hair caught up in a messy ponytail, as always, but had an apron on over her clothes—a simple gray T-shirt and blue jeans. The house smelled of cooking meat and baking pastries, a testament to her activities up until a few moments ago.

It’s about time it rained.  Her sister, Kathra, a white fox kit with blonde hair brushed back in a braid, looked up from her book—an old fashioned one printed on paper. We’re in a tropical climate. I was wondering when the rain would start.

J.R. smiled at the two foxes seated together on the daybed. His world revolved around the kits—or rather vixens. Both of them were getting too old for the kit designation. Though he was a brown wolf with pointed ears and a sharp tail, he had been their father since he found them abandoned in Jelu. Since then, they had been kidnapped and chased out of their home . . . or more specifically, Xena had. Her silver fur and its ability to manipulate electricity made her a prime target. At J.R.’s last count three people were searching for her—or, no . . . two. One of them, Marviot Cunor, had been executed for war crimes so there was one bad actor off of J.R.’s mind. But the other two, King Maximilian of Drymairad and Terrance Claybourne, the Collector, were loose ends J.R. had yet to clip. Which was why they were hiding on the Isle, a place where anonymity reigned and secrets came to die.

It used to rain all the time when we were kids, at least during summer afternoons. J.R. set his eyes to the rain. Chloe hated it.

I can see why, Daddy, Xena slumped onto her tail. It’s boring.

Boring! Kathra slammed her book shut. How can you be bored when you’re having a party? And look at you, you’re not even dressed! I’ve been dressed since I woke up.

I gotta cook. Xena rested her chin on her hands.

Kathra tapped her toes together. Mom can do it.

I wanted to. Xena leaned her forehead against the glass. Besides, Mira told me not to put on anything until she came to help me.

I get it, I guess. Kathra opened her book again.

I hope this rain doesn’t stop people from showing up.

Not a chance. Kathra squealed in excitement. Mira has everyone so excited, a hurricane could blow and people would still show up.

I hope so. Xena let a smile tug at her lips. I’ve never had a party before.

J.R. chuckled to himself as he refocused on the article he had been reading. For some reason, this piece on Vweezlan’s most popular sport, Field Hunting, caught his eye this morning. What seemed like a simple game with simple rules: find and catch all members of the opposing team—was surprisingly nuanced. In attempting to hide and ambush other teams, players could sometimes die of exposure, thirst, or be injured in battles to subdue their opponents. This was not only a battle against other players but a battle for survival.

Normally, matches would take place a week at a time within a relatively small play arena—a city or a section of the country with lots of buildings or trees or places to hide. But for an entire month of the year, sometimes longer depending on how long the match took, the entire country turned into a battlefield for teams wishing to take the ultimate crown in the year’s championship. Vweezlan was set in a perfect area of the map to ensure a variety of playing fields. Mountains with open mines, rainforests, cities, rock quarries, swamps—all areas of the country were open to all teams during the Field Hunting Championships. Often the teams were so evenly matched, the competition could drag on for months—with all their citizens glued to the television or radio to watch the results. But if one team outclassed the others, it could end in mere days.

The shortest battle in history ending in five days because one player incapacitated her teammates and went on to eliminate all the other teams by herself. She had been 21 years old at the time . . . and it had only been her third year in competition. She left the sport soon after, citing the game was too easy for her.

J.R. leaned back, stroking his chin. When he was a pup, he had a brief moment where he wanted to grow up to become a Field Hunting star. In a sport of mainly felines in a culture of mainly felines, how satisfying would it be to have a canine dominate the field? The people of Vweezlan would be so mad.

Hey, Daddy? Xena broke into his thoughts. Thanks for letting me have this party. Mira says I can meet a lot of people if I put myself out there more.

No problem, Kid. J.R. put away his holo-player. Glad to see you coming out of your shell. When I was a pup, I threw the wildest parties. Every summer, this house was the talk of the island.

But . . . Xena let one of her ears fall, a tell of when she was confused or thinking. I thought you grew up in Justin’s Ridge, Daddy.

I was born here, but I was a bit of a wild child—

I can’t imagine. A salmon colored vixen walked past carrying a load of laundry. Her blonde, curly hair bounced as she went causing their auburn tips to catch the light and shine. J.R. turned up his nose at her. This was Karalaina, Xena and Kathra’s birth mother, but that was as far as J.R. would let himself think of her. She sat on the chair cattycorner to the couch and started folding the clothes.

Ignoring her, J.R. turned to Xena. My parents sent me to Justin’s Ridge when I was ten. Thought Withers could whip me into shape. It worked . . . sort of. I came back to the Isle for summer vacation up until I was seventeen.

It must have been hard for you. Xena’s ears fell. She slipped off the daybed to approach him. I’m sorry, Daddy. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

Don’t be. J.R. pulled her arms from around him. I liked growing up in Justin’s Ridge. It was quiet there . . . and calming. He let his ears angle back a bit as he thought of his small, little town tucked in the middle of nowhere. Come to think of it, Justin’s Ridge was down-right boring. Wonder why I like it so much.

The doorbell rang.

There’s Mira. Xena bounced on her toes. She darted to the front door and swung it open. Oh, Hunter! Hi. I didn’t expect you so early.

I’m never late for a party, Z, came Hunter’s voice followed by the sound of a brief kiss, though J.R. couldn’t see them from where he sat. The food smells nice. Can I get samples?

Hunter, stop! Xena screeched. Don’t come in yet! You’re soaked! Stay here, and I’ll get you a towel. Glancing to the entryway, J.R. caught sight of Xena darting up the stairs.

After a few moments of silence, Hunter closed the door and squished into the kitchen.

He was a red fox with sandy, spiky hair turning pink at the ends—or at least his hair was usually spiky. Right now all the rain had plastered it and his fur to his skin, making him look like a drowned animal. Water dripped off of his clothes, his hair, and the bag he had over his shoulder until a puddle of water formed at his feet. He held a laptop wrapped in plastic in his free hand. I need a new ride.

Hunter, why didn’t you stay at the door? Karalaina shot to her feet. You’ve tracked mud and water all over the floor.

Got bored. Hunter shrugged.

Karalaina rolled her eyes. I’ll get a mop. She headed toward the utility closet down the hall next to the kitchen where they kept the cleaning supplies.

‘Sup, Kathra? Hunter nodded to Kathra. ‘Sup, J.R?

J.R. growled at him, baring one of his canines until Hunter held his hands up in submission. Then he grunted, and settled back in his chair. It wasn’t as if J.R. didn’t like the little punk. On the contrary. Not only was Hunter Xena’s Trainer, helping her to learn how and when to control the electricity running along her fur, but he also reminded J.R. of himself when he was young. Which was the problem. Of all the teenage boys, why did Xena have to choose a mini-J.R. to date?

Hunter!  Xena barked as she marched into the kitchen.

Hunter jumped as he turned to her. Geez! He pressed a hand on his heart. You startled me, Zizzie.

You better be glad I didn’t zap you instead. Xena shoved a fist onto her waist. In her other hand she carried a towel and a set of clothes. Look at this mess! I spent all morning cleaning. Why didn’t you stay at the door like I asked?

Hunter tossed her a shrug.

Same thing I asked him. Karalaina returned to with a mop.

Don’t you dare clean his mess, Mom! Xena stuffed the clothes into his hands. "Go change. When you come out, you can mop this floor."

Fine by me. Karalaina set the mop by the kitchen and headed back to the couch.

Go on, Hunter. Xena shooed him off. And hurry up. I don’t want all this crud to dry before you come out.

Yes, ma’am! Hunter gave her a smirk before sauntering to the downstairs half-bathroom.

Unbelievable! Xena snorted through her nose as she watching him walk off. I think he does these things to annoy me.

Most likely. J.R. tapped his nail on the arm rest. You’re equal parts intimidating and . . . well, cute when you’re mad, Kid. To him, it’s like playing in an electric storm.

Huh? Xena let one of her ears fall. I’ll never understand guys.

Neither will I, Kathra said, still reading her book.

Karalaina sat folding her clothes in silence. When a lull in the conversation fell, she peeked at J.R. then at Xena. Oh-kay . . . I guess I’m the one to bring up the obvious. Xenatha. She turned to Xena with one eyebrow raised. Why do you have a change of clothes for Hunter upstairs?

J.R.’s ears pricked. There was only one reason he could think of. And if that was Xena’s reason, Hunter was dead.

I didn’t. Xena took her place on the daybed. I found a bunch of boy’s clothes packed in boxes upstairs when we moved in. I figured he could use them.

Must be Omar’s old things. J.R. sniggered to himself as his anger drained away. This is going to be hilarious.

What. The crap. Is this? Hunter emerged from the bathroom with his ears flat against his skull. He was dressed in a skin-tight muscle shirt and a pair of shorts that barely reached his thighs.

J.R.’s laughter almost caused him to fall backwards in his chair. Karalaina covered her mouth to hide her snickers.

Nice legs! Kathra pointed and cackled at him.

Xena bit her bottom lip to stifle a snicker. I’ll dry your clothes.

Hunter eyed her. Yeah, thanks.

Meanwhile . . . Xena shoved the mop into his hands. You can take care of the floor.

Hunter snatched the mop from her and grumbled as he cleaned up. J.R. tried not to stare in amused horror at the way his brother’s old clothes accentuated Hunter’s backside. Instead, he picked up the holo-reader again.

Once Hunter had finished the floor, he put the mop away, plopped down beside J.R., removed his laptop from its plastic, and set it on the table before him.

What are you up to? J.R. peeked over the reader.

Thought I’d get some work done before the party prep starts in full gear, Hunter said, tapping on the keys.

Kathra swung her feet. Are you going to go off-island again?

You’re going off-island, and you didn’t tell me, Hunter? Xena emerged from the laundry room and sat next to him.

Nah. It’s computer work. Hunter cracked his neck as he typed. I get a ton of jobs that don’t pay enough for me to go do them. But the best part of being H Prowler is, bounty hunters would do anything to work with me.

H Prowler? Xena let one ear fall. I thought you stopped being him after the Jessica thing.

So did I. Hunter sighed as he typed. Closed down my site, left the name behind, and started over. I guess I have a signature way of doing things because those who know what to look for came flocking to me. Seems I can’t leave the name behind after all.

Oh, Hunter . . . Xena took his hand.

Hunter squeezed it. The good news is, all my work taking legitimate jobs and refusing the sketchy ones is starting to pay off. I’m getting less illicit offers overall, and my name has a reputation for accomplishing jobs others can’t . . . which is why inexperienced hunters clamor to work with me. Since most of my jobs are pretty easy, I just put the info together, subcontract to some guy, and charge them fifty-five percent of the bounty.

Fifty-five percent? J.R. whistled. What a rip off!

They’re paying for the privilege of working with me, and I can’t afford to take every job I get. Hunter shrugged, struggling to type with one hand yet refusing to let Xena’s go. Take this one: the award is $1000, but by the time I leave the island, get an apartment, get transportation, and track . . .  He trailed off, peering at the screen.

J.R. hung his arm over the back of the couch. Something wrong, you little con artist?

She’s paying a whole lot of money to get in contact with you. Hunter grinned at J.R.

J.R. raised an eyebrow. Who is?

Vix. Hunter’s smile widened.

Vix! Karalaina shot to her feet for the second time. What does she want with J.R.?

Vix? Xena scratched her cheek. Wasn’t she the one who came with you to rescue Kat and I when Max had us, Daddy?

J.R. pressed his lips together. She wasn’t there to rescue you, but yeah.

Right! Xena snorted through her nose. When she showed up to talk to you, you left us to go with her.

J.R. rolled his eyes.

Vix . . . Vix, hmm . . . Oh, right! Kathra snapped her fingers. I remember her. She was the one who wanted me to use alcohol on your wound when you got shot, Xena. Remember?  She rolled her eyes. How dumb.

I remember she was really pretty. Xena let her eyes drift to the ceiling. I mean, gorgeous.

If you like that sort of thing. Karalaina took her seat and continued to fold laundry.

J.R. side-eyed Karalaina. Have you even met her?

She was the one who gave me Hunter’s website. Karalaina shook out a pair of jeans. It’s how I was able to find Xena and Kathra again.

I’ll be sure to thank her. J.R. turned to Hunter. Why is she looking for me?

She wants me to deliver a message to you. Hang on. Hunter finally released Xena’s hand to tap his keyboard. I’m going to get paid first.

I hope she doesn’t need a place to stay because—

She is not staying in this house. Karalaina shook out a shirt with so much force, it snapped in the air.

A grin tugged at J.R.’s lips. Why do you care?

Do you want her here teaching Kathra and Xena her . . . special tricks?

J.R. hissed in a breath. Good point.

Xena flattened an ear. What kind of tricks?

For a big sister, Xena, you are so clueless. Kathra rolled her eyes. I’ll tell you later.

Got the money; here’s the message. Hunter cleared his throat. In a high and breathy voice he said, Dear J.R. I hope Prowler delivers this message soon. I have to speak with you. It’s a matter of life and death. Please find me. I need you. Vix. He batted his eyes at J.R.

J.R. whacked the back of his head.

Hey! Hunter rubbed his head.

You deserved it. Xena suddenly flushed red under her fur. Oh! Those special tricks. The lights brightened in response to her embarrassment.

Electricity, Hunter sang.

I know; I know. Xena took deep, calming breaths. The lights returned to normal. Sorry, I’ve been nervous about the party.

Vix, huh? J.R. studied the message on Hunter’s screen. Maybe I will go find her. His voice dropped to a growl. I’ve been meaning to have a chat with her about Terrance Claybourne and Flyby.

I’ve wondered why you didn’t retaliate after she tipped off Terrance to Xena. Hunter leaned back in his chair.

Haven’t had the time. Too many people and incidents came into our lives since then. Now since things have settled down . . . J.R. slammed a fist into his palm. Vix and the business end of my pistol have an appointment to keep.

Daddy, she’s contacting you for help. Xena let her ears fall. You can’t go there . . . and . . . and shoot her.

If she’s looking for my help after what she pulled, she’s already in too deep.

That’s an understatement. Hunter stretched his arm on the back of the couch behind Xena. If you don’t hurry, someone else will get her first.

Can’t let that happen. J.R. hefted himself to his feet.

When are you leaving? Hunter turned his head to watch him. Immediately?

The morning. J.R. grinned at him over his shoulder. "Don’t worry. I’ll be here to supervise this party and make