Phantom Foxy Novels & Stories

I turn to face her. “I’m here, Foxy. Let’s end this.” “Oh, we are going to have so much fun.” She says, clapping like a fucking deranged sea lion. When I see more men step out from the shadows. Then I see two I recognise. Solomon and Hound!

It's so unnecessary, but whatever, I'll oblige his ego this once. "Looks like we didn't chase you off fully." The wolf is all jokes, huh? He chuckles like it's one, but we all know he isn't joking at all. I shrug. "I'm like a cat. I got nine lives." "Aren't you a fox though?" Misty asks. Yes, Capt. Obvious, I'm indeed a fox. My sarcastic remark is on the tip of my tongue when Maverick pierces me with a warning look. I swallow down those words regrettably. I take a deep breath like Maverick did and then I release it.

A week after the embarrassing incident, Mark made yet another suggestion. “Just give it a shot, Samson,” he insisted after Samson said no for the hundredth time. “The guy is completely trustworthy. He won’t breathe a syllable to anybody about this.” His old friend couldn’t possibly be serious. “A shrink? You want me to go see a shrink?” Samson asked, looking at Mark like that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard come out of his friends mouth. And it probably was. “I’m a One hundred and Fourty three year old vampire, Mark. What could this guy possibly say to me that I haven’t heard before?” Samson asked.

The Fox’s voice echoed in my head, a psychic hiss. I knew the legends. In the old sectors, they called them Kitsune or Fox-Demons—creatures that stole lives to extend their own. This wasn't tech; this was ancient, dark 'Noir' magic. She’d already stolen two lives to get those tails. She needed my youth to reset her clock, but the life growing inside me made the 'transfer' impossible. The Fox lunged. She was twice my size, moving with a speed that blurred the air. I dove across the shattered glass, my reflexes sharp and jagged.

But his silence was sad, crushing whatever hope I had left. " Five..." Damon’s voice was laced with amusement. He was enjoying this, watching me break, watching Alex falter. Then, out of nowhere, a figure crashed into Damon, sending him across the floor. It was Phantom, the final member of the Prime Order. Damon hit the ground hard, clearly caught off guard. Phantom’s entrance was so sudden that even the shadows Damon controlled flickered for a moment, losing their form. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun without me,” Phantom said.

“I can perceive entities over there, but that’s all.” “We need to work on your sight.” “Name the day.” I glanced at Brett with a mild frown. Yeah, it didn’t take a psychic to see those two had some kind of chemistry going. “Is Kujo around?” I whispered. “Oh, my, there he is!” Amy covered her mouth, eyes like grapefruits. “Oh, Fran, I wish you could see him! He looks so good!” She turned to me and I was surprised to see the wet spark in her eyes. “He developed an animal shape. Picture a wolf the size of a grizzly, with long black fur. A warg, that. That’s how he looks. Fierce but pretty in his own fashion.” She looked ahead again, shaking her head slowly. “Oh, my girl. You should be so proud.

I stammer out, and Hendrix chuckles at my hesitation. Willow nods at me and turns the radio on. Foxy Lady. She hums along to it, swaying in her seat. I can tell every movement is deliberate, designed to tease me. “What’s your wolf’s name?” I blurt out. “Jamie,” she says, smiling up at me. “Jamie?” I snort. “Are you for real?” “Yeah,” her brows furrow the slightest bit. It’s adorable. “What is yours?” “Hendrix,” he speaks through me, and I don’t have to think too hard to know my eyes are rimmed with red right now.

“Shut up, pup. I need to finish what I’m saying before they get back from the store.” Bryant tried to say something, but Garrett, Will, and Bethany growled low in warning to him. He crossed his arms and pouted. “Thank you. What the Vasili didn’t realize when he ordered me to be taken was just how much of an enemy he was taking into his home. I know Ford and Rao.” The wolves gasped. “I am known to hunters and trackers as ‘The Phantom’. I hunt them. I’m gathering information, then I’m leaving and I’m taking all of you with me. With luck, we’ll take the bulk of his succubae, too. Any questions so far?” Madison asked.

“If I am targeted, and so will she.” “Don’t worry. I already dispatched my men to guard her.” Of course, he does. However, it occurred to me just now that despite somehow foreshadowing my phantom’s identity right at the beginning when Damon was introduced to me and knowing how he was the CEO of the leading electronic company. I know only very little of him.

I NEED to know who he is, and something tells me I won’t discover much if I approach him as Phantom Reaper. I don’t really even know who I actually am, to be honest. I never indulged in friendships or relationships with others. It’s just always been survival. The only person I had any kind of positive relationship was my mother. I don’t know my father but because of my hair color, I’m fairly certain my father was Christian Bartoa. I know he frequented the slave cells whenever he was bored, and the urge arises so it doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t intend to ever claim him nor carry his surname. The thought of actually SPEAKING to Damien makes me feel a weird sense of anxiety. I’m unsure if i