Air to weave dred dixon.., p.1
Air to Weave (Dred Dixon Chronicles Book 4), page 1
Copyright © 2022 by N.A.Grotepas
All rights reserved.
Cover designed by Deranged Doctor Design
Version: 2.22.2022
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgments
Void to Break preview
Introduction
Note: Some events referenced in Void to Break (Dred Dixon Chronicles book 4) occur in the free prequel short story. Please download your copy here.
1
“Dred, you can’t keep it as a pet,” Hank said as I crouched and held out my hand. “So, best to not even tempt fate like that.”
My partner Henry Stone, aka Hank, was currently chewing on a blade of grass like he was some kind of country-boy and not a hardened ex-New York City resident at odds with the Utah countryside he found himself in at the moment.
“Shhh,” was all I said as I beckoned to the creature. “It’s just like a fox.”
“Really? That’s what you think about those?” He chuckled and paced in a circle as he watched me. “So cute of you, Dred. They’re wild. Dangerous. I have some experience with things like that. I don’t think you want to mess with it.”
“I’ve always wanted a pet fox. It was the most popular animal I put into my MASH charts.”
“Your what?”
“Didn’t you ever do that MASH game as a kid?”
“I have no idea what MASH is unless you’re talking about the TV show.” He took the blade of grass out of his mouth, inspected it, then threw it down like it was a cigarette butt. He dusted off his hands, ran both of them through his hair, and shook his head. “I’m sick of dirt, wild animals, plants, and wide open spaces. What I wouldn’t give to be back in the concrete jungle of Manhattan. Nature? Bah.”
I might have been wrong to call New York his ex. It sounded like he was still enamored with that silly city. My partner’s eyes were hidden behind his aviator sunglasses, as they were at least ninety-five percent of the time. So I couldn’t see if there was a mischievous look in them, or if he really was sick of nature.
The little fox continued to watch me cautiously from a sitting position about eight feet away.
“You’ll be sleeping in the tent tonight if you keep complaining, mister,” I joked. “That’ll learn ya to not love nature out loud, where I can hear you. The dirtier you get, the more you’ll have to love it.”
The fox was the standard russet with a frosted white tail-tip. His paws were black and his nose twitched as I crept closer in my hunched down position. From the corner of my eye, it seemed like he had three tails, but when I looked at him straight on, they merged back to one. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not.
Hank was implying that the fox was a supernatural creature and that he knew something special about them—I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn as much. Not that he was volunteering anything more than that. In fact, I’d learned that my partner had a large backstory that he’d not shared with me at all. He could have spent ten years of his life in Japan. Maybe he spoke Japanese. Maybe he’d been married before to a Japanese-American woman.
The possibilities were endless, really.
He sighed and stretched, stifling a yawn. “Dirty would be nice. Preferably with a hot fairy. A redheaded fairy and me, getting down and dirty. There’s something about redheads that I can’t resist. Know any redheaded fairies, Dred?” He strode away from me and all I could see was his back. More specifically, his bomber jacket. The man insisted on his standard uniform despite the temperatures. While the aviator sunglasses made sense in the summer evening light, the jacket was a fool’s move.
He was asking for it with the teasing, but I could play this game as I continued to try to convince the fox that I was safe. We were investigating rumors that foxfire had been seen lighting up the meadows at night in what witnesses described as being akin to the aurora borealis it was so bright.
It would be my first run-in with the supernatural kitsune of lore if so, and I had absolutely no idea how to handle the situation. But I couldn’t let Hank know that. I would wing it if I had to.
Though, honestly, he’d probably know I was winging it.
The sun beat down on my shoulders. Sweat gathered at the edge of my hairline and my legs itched where the arrowleaf balsam root brushed against them, reaching their shiny leaves to the heavens. Their yellow petals and velvet amber centers swayed in the breeze. The rounded hillside was blanketed in a coating of them that reached all the way to the treeline where a dense forest of pines began.
Technically we weren’t in Utah any longer—we were in the southeast corner of Idaho, but once you got into the mountains like we were, borders became spotty. The area was breathtaking and Hank knew it despite his complaining. He had to see that it was a kind of paradise, unless he was blind.
We’d driven all up and down the access road—which was dirt, whereupon he complained about the prevalence of dirt roads—for miles and miles the day before and that very morning. “Why can’t more things be paved out in nature?” he questioned. “That’s what’s troubling about all these places you take me, they’re undeveloped.”
“You’re right. All the wild places should be tamed. Everything would be better with a Starbucks on the corner.”
“Exactly my point, Dred. This ‘forest’ and ’wild places’ stuff is just slick marketing and ad campaigns. It’s gotta stop.”
Neither of us dared to be the first to laugh. The conversation continued like that for miles, deadpan. We still hadn’t broken a smile over it. In fact, I’d begun to wonder if in our game of chicken to not be the first to bust up laughing, we’d both started to believe our straight-faced jokes that nature sucked and the entire world should be covered in concrete and pavement, skyscrapers, and apartment blocks that went on for miles.
Maybe that would be good. Maybe dirt was the problem.
“You got anything in your Luis Merlin-ton bag that could tempt a fox to come sniff my hand?”
Hank turned and looked down at me, his hands on his hips, spreading his jacket open. Circles of sweat made his black shirt darker under his arms. If he’d not been sporting his aviators, I wondered what I’d see in his eyes as he regarded me.
“What?” I asked, finally, looking back at the fox. The three tails merged back into one as my peripheral vision faded and I looked at the creature straight on.
“Nothing,” Hank said, mirth in his voice.
“Maybe a glove? Would the fox want to smell a glove?”
“Yes, a glove. Smell the glove, Dred.”
“Spinal Tap. One of my favorites.”
“I’m beginning to think everything interesting and clever and even remotely related to pop culture is your favorite.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Sorry, nothing in my bag for a fox. Nope.”
“You didn’t even check. Maybe you could check? I don’t see how you can know. Unless when you open it up, a magical inventory chart pops up and you can just skim the contents then close it up, like in a video game.”
I’d developed a new name for Hank’s magical satchel, which was bigger on the inside. Like the Tardis—another name I’d need to somehow incorporate into my nomenclature for Hank’s enchanted bag. Like all things, he’d never fully explained where he’d gotten it or what its characteristics really were. So I’d made up a narrative of my own for it. And I’d developed the Luis Vuitton titling for it by mashing it together with Merlin’s name.
Clever. I know.
Hank shoved his satchel back onto his rear end, slipping his thumb under the strap that crossed his chest, and glared at me. Well, it felt like a glare. It was hard to tell with the sunglasses covering his bourbon gaze.
I smiled at him.
“There is an inventory panel, yup. And we’re living in the matrix, Dred.”
“So, what do you think, Hank? Now we know there are some foxes here after all.”
“Kitsune,” he interjected, ignoring my question.
“Want to set up a camp in a spot over there and watch the fox as night falls? We could make some popcorn and pretend it’s a movie.”
“Sounds like a plan. Except the popcorn.”
“No popcorn? Really?”
“Yeah, it’s gross. Gets in your teeth and neve
The fox took a step closer and made a whimpering sound like something put it on edge. Probably me. Instead of settling on its haunches again, it began to turn in circles, its tail floating behind it, becoming three and then one again.
“See that, Dred? Kitsune.”
“Yes. Also known as fox.”
“Call it what you want, princess, but when little foxy fox has three tails, it’s supernatural.”
The fox paused in its pacing and stared directly into my eyes. Pale tan irises regarded me intelligently and I got the distinct impression that it wanted to tell me something beyond the whimpering sound.
Its ears perked up suddenly and it glanced around, very alert. It made a soft mewling sound just before it hopped away, bounding over the plants that reached the top of my shins until it vanished, weaving through the ugly carpet of yellow and green flowers. The tips of its three tails were visible for a while, then they too vanished.
“Something spooked the tyke,” Hank said. “Poor little guy.”
I straightened, scanning the area, looking for something out of the ordinary. A disruption to the pattern, but saw nothing. Chills crept across my skin like dominoes falling. I suppressed a shiver.
“You’re right,” I said. “Something’s wrong.”
“Exactly. That’s why we’re here, cutie,” Hank said, coming to stand beside me. He clapped me on the shoulder and smiled at me. “Maybe we can roast some marshmallows tonight? Make some s’mores?”
“No chance. Popcorn, though, we can do that.”
“If we’re having a fire, we should do s’mores, Dred. That’s all I’m saying.” We began to walk back to the road where our van, Charlie’s Angel, was parked.
She was Large Marge’s replacement and was a beautiful 1980s throwback van. Black with orange, blue, and yellow racing stripes and a sunset theme painted on the back doors.
I’d never been so happy to have lost a vehicle—a job hazard—as that day Adelaide introduced Captain Fua and me to the new van.
I snorted. “Popcorn.”
“Come on, princess. Fair’s fair. You picked where we grabbed lunch. S’mores?”
I wasn’t sure why it was an either/or situation, but I relented. “Alright, then. S’mores.”
Because fair is fair, as much as I hated to admit it.
He did a fist pump. “Yes.”
He smiled, dancing and leaping over the noxious weeds that covered the hillside. I couldn’t help but allow myself a grin at his display of exuberance over such a small pleasure.
If only we’d gotten the chance to eat the s’mores. We were halfway to the van where we’d parked it on the side of the dirt road when a rumble shook the ground and caused us both to say uh-oh as we turned around.
“Shit,” I said. “Say goodbye to those s’mores, Hank. This doesn’t look right at all.”
2
Twilight crept over the valley. The smell of dried earth permeated the air as my senses came into sharp focus due to the danger bearing down on us at the far end of the meadow.
The sky above the western mountains turned pink. A silhouette against that looming shadow of the darkening mountain moved toward us.
Squinting, I realized it was a woman. Luminescent mist of concentrated magic swirled around her hands.
She threw the spell that she’d gathered toward Hank and me. I tossed a shield over us without thinking. I barely had time to congratulate myself on the move being second nature before she threw another, but it was there—a sense of self-satisfaction at having engaged in enough practice and fights that I had a battle sense and reacted on instinct.
The shield was unnecessary. Whatever spell she’d aimed at us turned out to be one that shook the earth. I threw my hands up to balance myself.
“Our favorite villain’s new minion, Dred. You think?”
“My thoughts, yes.”
“A female sorcerer,” Hank cursed.
“Here for the kitsune. What do you want to bet it’s an air kitsune?” I spread my fingers wide, dividing my attention between what was happening in front of me and the flows of energy coursing through everything around me.
“That’s what I’m thinking.”
“Great minds, Hank.”
“Since we’re on the topic, that would make four elements. If Joe gets this one, we’re done for.” Hank pulled his magical bag around from his back and thrust his hands into it. He withdrew his rune stylus, a carved and polished stone with enough heft that, in a pinch, he could chuck at the enemy and do real damage
“He won’t. We won’t let that happen. Over my dead body, right?” We both laughed as the imminent threat of death approached us.
The sorcerer was getting closer to us, fearlessly marching across the meadow. As she neared us, she began to spin spells at a rapid pace and hurl them at us like some kind of sorcerer ninja. Confident. Powerful. Ready to destroy whatever got in her way. Her arsenal was everything from lightning and brutal gusts of wind to earthquake spells and fireballs that left scorch marks in their path.
“Good riddance,” I muttered about the arrowleaf balsam root flowers going up in flames. There were too many of them anyway. The plants were seriously a nuisance.
“She’s a firecracker, Dred,” Hank said.
“We can take her,” I answered, hearing the admiration in his voice. “She’s clearly not here for anything good.”
“Our little kitsune friend seemed to know she was after him,” Hank said. “She’s probably been on the hunt for a while, looking for just the element she wants.”
“It’s got to be air, right? That’s the only one left. You know how to determine what kind the fox was?” I asked, since he seemed to know so much about kitsunes.
“No. Air probably, like you said, since she’s going after him so hard.”
“How does a person even catch a fox like that?”
“You almost caught it. Be nice, maybe? You were taming it. Getting unique to it, stuff like that.”
“Was I?”
“Come on, Dred! That’s a Little Prince reference. You know? The fox? When it says ‘I’ll be unique to you.’ I can’t believe you didn’t catch it.” In one hand my partner now held his black Glock, and he paused to open fire at the sorceress coming after us. His other hand was busy writing summoning runes in the air with his stylus.
“Never read it,” I answered. I threw the shield off of us, feeling the power of the earth below me begin to flow up into my feet, fueling the magic that gathered at my own fingertips. I’d watched our friend across the field, coming toward us like some kind of Peaches and Herb song. “Maybe we should start singing ‘Reunited,’” I said. “I bet she’d love that.” I was ready for her. Bring it on, bitch. You won’t get this fox if I have anything to say about it.
“It might throw her off. I say go for it, Dred. Besides, she’s kind of cute.”
That was when I noticed that the hair blowing in the backwind of her plethora of spells was red.
“Redheads are usually bitchier, you know that, right, Hank?”
“What? No. She’s probably sweet as hell. Probably makes her mom little cards for mother’s day that say ‘this card is good for ten free hugs,’” he said. The words were punctuated by his golden Glock appearing in his hand, glistening and flickering droplets of brassy golden light as he pulled it from whatever dimension it lived in. Hank holstered the real Glock and gripped both hands on the conjured gun.
“Hey! Fancy seeing you here, Esmerelda!” I yelled. I hoped she hated the name I picked for her. That was a calculated move. I wanted her to immediately tell me her name.
Hank grunted beside me, then fired two warning shots.
“Don’t miss on purpose,” I said, noticing that none of his fire hit her. “This time we just need to finish off Joe’s minions.”
