“I keep them,” Sage said. “In the Skulk. In my forest domain. They just… hang out. Run around. Watch TV.”

  “Imposs…” Fin began.

  Sage unclipped her collar. Reality around her wobbled with flickers of eyes. Fennel choked and then dropped his bagel, then caught it before it hit the floor, hand blurring in the air.

  “Christ! H-how many souls are you keeping alive in there?” Marya asked, trembling and taking a step back from Sage.

  “Over nine thousand,” Sage stated.

  “You have a legion of the dead inside you? Sis, that’s like… digestion constipation on a metaphysical scale!” Fin stated.

  “It’s not constipation!” Sage pulled away from the dragon, indignation overcoming her sibling-shyness. “It’s a community! A collective! My CPU!”

  “It’s loud,” Marya breathed, rubbing her temples, blinking at the shimmering sea of fox eyes above Sage. “God, it’s so loud. Like a stadium full of screaming fans. How do you… how do you think? How do you function without your brain melting out of your ears?”

  Sage shrugged. “Got used to it. It’s white noise. Fox noise. Took many years, since I kept my very first fox intact.”

  “Well sheeet,” Fin said. “I’m… convinced. Mom’s gonna throw a fit if she finds out.”

  “You gonna tell her?” Sage asked.

  “Hell naw,” Fin said. “I ain't dealing with that fallout. You can tell her yourself whenevs you introduce your new ‘ships to her and stuff.”

  Marya nodded.

  My stomach growled again. Sage snapped her collar back on. Marya glanced at me. “Right then. You’re clearly hungry. What would you three like for dinner? We’ve got plenty of stuff in the back. Steaks, croissants, salads.”

  "A balanced diet of champions," Sage chirped. “We’ll 'def take steakses, saladses and breadses.”

  Marya blurred.

  One moment she stood by our table. The next, she was in the kitchen and four massive ribeyes hit the butcher block with a wet, heavy slap. A knife appeared in her hand. It moved with ninja speed, trimming fat.

  Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

  "Want them cooked, how?" She glanced at us, the knife point hovering over the red meat.

  "Cooked, yes," I said eloquently. "Please apply heat. Fire is good. I am not a cryptid, so, uhh... medium-rare.”

  "Medium-rare," Galateya requested politely.

  "Bloody as hell," Sage bobbed. "Just show it the fire and threaten it."

  "Make that two bloody as hell," Fennel added.

  “On it.” Marya grabbed a huge cast-iron skillet. She slammed it onto the gas range. Blue flames roared up, licking the black metal. Butter hit the pan, sizzling and foaming. The steaks followed.

  A violent hiss of searing meat filled the kitchen. Smoke billowed up, thick and flavored with iron, rendered fat, and rosemary.

  She tossed croissants onto a baking sheet and shoved them into the salamander oven. Greens flew into a bowl. Vinaigrette splashed down in a golden arc.

  "So," Fennel leaned back, chewing on his bagel remnant. "You collect girlfriends."

  “Yep.”

  “Where you working at to afford to feed them all? Specially Sagie?”

  "Wut? I afford to feed meself!" Sage stated.

  "Liar. You mooch off Mare's cookin'," her brother rebutted.

  Sage huffed in reply.

  "I... Got a degree in electrical engineering," I said. "Systems architecture. Now I... freelance."

  "Freelance," Fennel rolled the word around. "Right. Freelance harem protagonist. Does it pay well?"

  "The benefits are in high cardio," Sage answered for me.

  "It pays in survival," I added.

  Marya flipped the steaks. Grease spit into the air. She didn't flinch. She grabbed the hot croissants with her bare hand, seemingly immune to the heat, and dumped them into a basket.

  Plates slid across the table. Heavy ceramic discs spinning to a halt in front of us.

  The raw steaks landed with heavy thuds first. It oozed red juices into the white porcelain. A pile of arugula landed next to it, glistening with oil. Then the croissants and salads arrived.

  Sage and her brother dug into the steaks. Galateya and I began on the croissants and Cesar salads.

  Then our steaks came too. The food was pure life support.

  The meat was charred on the outside, cool and red in the middle. The iron tang of blood mixed with the rich, salty fat exploded on my tongue. I inhaled everything as quickly as I could manage.

  Galateya ate with more dignity, sending me cute, happy glances.

  "So," Marya leaned against the counter, watching us feed. She hadn't made a plate for herself. "You keep thousands of fox souls. Inside you."

  "Yup," Sage muffled around a mouthful of steak.

  "And this human," she pointed a spatula at me. "Is okay with it."

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Sage swallowed a massive chunk of meat without chewing. "He is an enabler. The best kind!"

  "Aight buds," Fennel stood up with a yawn. "I'm going to bed. If you eat him, clean the sheets. I just did laundry."

  "I am not eating him!"

  Fennel winked at me with a smile and vanished up the stairs.

  We finished in silence, the only sounds being the scrape of cutlery and the wet tearing of meat. I cleared my plate. Then I ate the second croissant. Then I considered licking the ceramic.

  "Done?" Marya asked.

  "Yes. Thank you. That was... excellent. You're a fantastic cook Marya."

  "Aight," she said, grabbing my plate. "Off you go then. Good night. Do not howl."

  "No promises on the howling," Sage winked. She grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the stairs. Galateya followed, looking slightly sleepy and satisfied.

  We climbed.

  Sage stopped at a door at the end of the tower stairwell. It was absolutely plastered with fox-themed stickers. Intel Inside. Warning: Biohazard. A faded poster of a fox sitting in a teacup. A crude drawing of a stick figure with fox ears eating a ghost. Fox-shaped runes were carved across the entire door and doorframe.

  "Behold," she announced, kicking the door open. "The alpha-post command center!"

  We walked in, looking around.

  It was a disaster. A beautiful, somewhat curated, disaster. A very wide loft room spanned the entire attic. The ceiling sloped sharply in random places, creating dark, triangular alcoves.

  Dozens of monitors dominated the space. Some were mounted on the walls. Some sat on milk crates. Some dangled from the rafters and wooden beams on chains. Cables snaked across the floor like black vipers, tangled in random knots that would make an IT professional weep. The walls were covered in colorful postcards, photographs and drawings featuring foxes, gold runes and hearts drawn atop.

  Piles of clothes formed distinct geological layers on the floor. A large beanbag chair sat in the corner. A plethora of sex toys were scattered about. A violin sat on a shelf. A strip club pole stood in the middle, supporting the one patch of flat ceiling.

  A mattress sat directly on the floor, surrounded by a fortress of pillows, fox plushies and sketchbooks. Dreamcatchers hung everywhere, covered in gemstones, twinkling in the dark connected by a thousand silver strands that filled the entire loft like twinkling spider webs.

  "It is... cozy," Galateya said, stepping carefully over a bundle of ethernet cables.

  "It is a fire trap," I corrected. "Featuring ten thousand trip hazards."

  “Naw. The ward runes prevent fires.” Sage beamed. She flopped onto the mattress. Dust motes danced in the air upon impact. "Shoes off. Pants banned. Napping be mandatory."

  I kicked off Dax's boots. My feet throbbed with relief. I peeled off the damp, torn shirt. I kicked the offending fabric into a corner already occupied by a mountain of dirty laundry that looked like a definite fire hazard waiting for a spark.

  My bare feet slapped against the shag carpet, navigating the treacherous snake-pit of ethernet cables.

  I shoved the bathroom door open. The bathroom was fairly basic, featuring a toilet, sink and a shower. I gripped the porcelain edges of the sink, staring into the cracked mirror.

  The reflection showed bloodshot eyes sunk deep into dark sockets. Forest detritus caked into my hairline. A large bruise blossomed purple and yellow along my jawline. More scratches and bruises populated my chest.

  I looked like I’d gone ten rounds with a cement mixer.

  I relieved myself.

  Then I scrubbed my hands with a bottle of orange pumice soap. I splashed water on my face, gasping as the cold liquid hit hot skin.

  Better. Marginally.

  I opened the door, intending to find a towel or a flat surface to die on.

  A wall of steam suddenly hit me.

  The attic had transformed inexplicably in the time I spent in the bathroom. Thick, humid fog obscured the monitors, turning the glowing screens into hazy lighthouses in a digital sea.

  Lit candles highlighted a massive heart-shaped jacuzzi tub in a corner framed with broken mirror shards shaped like dancing foxes. I hadn't noticed it before, probably because it was covered by a tarp. Now, the aforementioned tarp was pushed aside, sitting beside the tub above a pile of laundry.

  A wet hand shot out of the mist.

  Sage materialized from the steam. Naked and wet. Heartstoppingly beautiful, about eighty percent human and twenty percent fox, freckles shaped like falling raindrops. She pulled me into the jacuzzi with a mind-melting smile.

  “This seems even more of a safety hazard,” I stated. “Cables and a Jacuzzi tub, really?"

  “Is fine,” Sage stated. “The wards make sure nothing sparks or breaks. It’s a tight ship yo.”

  “Nice to have magic, I guess.” I commented.

  "T-Bun!" Sage yelled, the sound echoing off the sloped ceiling rafters. "Get your scaled ass in the stew! The soup needs rainbo' seasoning!"

  Galateya's naked form shifted through the mist. The Taniwha stepped up to the edge of the heart-shaped humongous tub. I had no idea how Sage even got it up here. The round stained glass windows and door definitely didn't allow for such. Either she disassembled a large part of the roof or more magic shenanigans were involved.

  Teya cautiously dipped one clawed toe into the bubbling water.

  "Sit. Join,” Sage encouraged. “Be the broth base."

  I slumped against the acrylic side of the tub. The jets pummeled my aching back muscles. Heat seeped into my bones, melting the residual chill of the rain. I closed my eyes, letting my head loll back against the rim.

  Galateya shyly stepped in.

  The water level rose, some of it escaping to spill precariously over the edge onto the tangle of high-voltage cables and extension cords. As marketed by Sage no sparks had occurred. Instead, fox-shaped runes nearby flickered and the water simply vanished from existence, not reaching the electric disaster cable and extension chord nests.

  Galateya sat opposite me, tail curling around her ankles underwater like a protective reef. Her scales flushed a deep, embarrassed crimson before settling into a contented, warm orange-gold.

  "Soap time!" Sage announced.

  A sponge slapped against my chest.

  Sage went to work with the energy of a car wash attendant on a deadline. She scrubbed my arms, my chest, my neck. The sponge was rough. Her claws scraped pleasantly against my skin through the foam. She washed away the mud, the forest debris, the sweat, the lingering scent of fear, sex and adrenaline.

  "Lift," she ordered.

  I lifted an arm. She scrubbed the pit.

  "Other one."

  I complied.

  "Turn."

  I turned. She attacked my back, digging into the knots along my spine with the sponge and her knuckles. It hurt. It felt amazing. Serenity pounded from the Skinwalker like a hammer of liquid love.

  "Your turn, T-bun," Sage tossed the sponge across the water.

  Galateya caught it with a wet smack. She hesitated, looking at me.

  "Wash him," Sage encouraged, sinking down until only her ears, nose and eyes remained above the bubbles. "Claim him with suds, bruh!"

  Galateya moved closer. Her legs brushed against mine beneath the churning water.

  Where Sage was impatient and rough, Galateya was reverent. She traced the muscles of my chest with the sponge, squeezing warm water over my shoulders. Her claws retracted, leaving only soft fingertips to massage the soap into my skin. She focused on the bruise along my jawline, cleaning it with tender, cautious strokes.

  "You are... very damaged," she whispered, tracing a scratch on my collarbone. “I… can’t help but feel responsible for some of these bruises.”

  “S’fine,” I mumbled, eyes half-open. The steam made everything hazy, dreamlike. Sage wiggled her big, fluffy fox ears above the water, leering at us.

  "I will be gentler next time," Teya promised.

  “Next time,” I agreed, yawning. “Also, next time… somebody else can get chased, smacked around and shot with paintballs… maybe Nexy and Shady.”

  “Yessss,” Teya smiled wide with dragon chompers. “I like the sound of that… Mmmm… Justice.”

  "Justice!" Sage whispered conspiratorially, gliding through the water towards us like a foxy shark with lewd intentions.