The Man Behind the Fox (Preview)

Chapter 1

“Medium soy latte!”

Cassidy Atkins placed the overfull porcelain coffee mug gingerly on the side counter and called out again, her eyes scanning the interior of the small shop, looking for the drink’s owner. A blonde woman in a heavy scarf looked up from her laptop, and with an exaggerated bouncing motion, stood and came to collect her coffee.

Cassidy gave her a wooden smile, then disappeared into the back room.

Morning shifts were always brutal. Sometimes she could convince herself that they were better because at least the time passed more quickly – but after eight hours on her feet, moving swiftly between the cash register, the blender, and the espresso machine, she always felt as if she might collapse before she made it home.

“You want me to make you a drink?” asked a voice behind her as she shrugged off her apron and replaced it on the hook.

Julian, her coworker, stood in the doorway with an eyebrow raised.

“Uh. That would be amazing. Thank you, Julian.”

He didn’t move.

“Oh, sorry. Just a decaf drip, please.”

“Comin’ right up.”

Cassidy pulled on her jacket and slung her old canvas messenger bag over one shoulder. When she emerged from the back room, Julian was already engaged with another customer, but she spotted her coffee sitting on the back counter.

“Thanks Jules. See you tomorrow.”

He gave her his usual nod and smile.

*****

It was nearing the end of February, just the right time for Cassidy to start getting her hopes up that the weather would soon turn for the better.

It’s still winter, Cass, she reminded herself as she pulled up the collar of her coat to shield herself from the wind.

The sun was on its way to setting, and the sky was tinted a brilliant pink as Cassidy zig-zagged away from the strip of small boutiques and restaurants where the cafe that she worked at was located. She was fortunate enough to live only a ten-minute walk away, and she’d gotten into the habit of taking the scenic route home on days when it was still light out.

A few more turns down quiet residential streets lined with single-family homes led her to a narrow path on the edge of a forest. A strip of parkland bordered the neighborhood, and though it wasn’t particularly large as state parks went, the trees were dense enough that they gave Cassidy the impression that something old and indescribable lurked within.

She’d never been afraid of the forest or its darkness. Logically, Cassidy knew that the worst of what lived there posed little threat to her or any of her neighbors. Residents were often advised to keep their dogs on leashes or in backyards – but even coyote sightings were rare. Cassidy had never personally spotted one of the creatures. Her roommate, Devan, who worked as a ranger for the local parks board, would be quick to remind Cassidy that the warnings were not to be taken lightly – but Cassidy knew that Devan had a tendency to exaggerate such things.

Cassidy was deep in thought about coyotes when she heard a strange, high-pitched whining sound. Her ears pricked, and she slowed her pace, stepping carefully to avoid crunching the gravel underfoot. The sound came again.

A child? Sound carrying from someone’s house?

The houses nearby all looked empty and quiet, though.

Maybe a cat?

She stopped and listened. The noise came a third time, louder and more insistent. It definitely wasn’t a cat.

It’s coming from the trees, Cassidy realized, and looked apprehensively to the forest near her. The pink light of the sky was fading into a deep shade of purple, casting black shadows in between the trees. Curiously, she took a step, her foot landing silently on mossy ground.

“Hello?” she called. The word struck her as foolish – whatever was making the noise, it didn’t sound like it could answer her in plain English.

But it did answer her, or at least, it seemed as if it did. It came again, and Cassidy heard it clearer now as she stepped further away from the path and into the trees. What little background noise there had been from distant traffic was thoroughly muffled by the foliage. A low, almost imperceptible growl crescendoed into a mewling, yowling cry.

An animal. It’s got to be in pain. Cassidy’s heart lurched. She had no idea what she’d find, or if she’d be able to do anything to help the poor creature. But she couldn’t make herself turn back toward the path. She took another step forward, pushing a stray branch away from her face with one arm.

Some movement caught her eye, and she trained her gaze on the forest floor. There, lying at the base of a spindly young tree, was a red fox.

Cassidy paused for a moment, waiting for some reaction to her presence. But there was none. After a moment, the small animal let out another cry, more pained and desperate than the last, though quieter. She knelt, feeling moisture from the dirt soak into her jeans at the knee.

“Hey… hey little guy,” she whispered uselessly, her eyes surveying the animal’s form while her hands hovered just above it, wanting to touch but knowing it was probably inadvisable to do so. She squinted in the dim light, trying to locate the source of the animal’s pain. As her eyes adjusted, she eventually noticed it – one of the legs wasn’t sitting quite right, and a patch of orange fur was matted and stained dark red with blood and dirt.

“You’ve hurt your leg.” She frowned and straightened momentarily. You should leave well enough alone, Cassidy. This is just nature taking its course. This fox is going to be food for something else, something bigger. Still, she felt an ache in her chest at the prospect of leaving the poor fox alone.

Moments passed. She stared at the fox, listening to its sounds growing ever quieter, watching its tiny chest rise and fall with every ragged breath.

She gritted her teeth. I’m not going to be able to leave this alone, am I?

“Oh, Devan’s going to kill me for this,” she said as she peeled off her jacket and began the slow, painstaking process of bundling up the animal and lifting it off the ground. She expected a loud protest to accompany the action, but all she got as she stood, grasping her jacket like a swaddled baby, was another soft, pained sigh. “Alright,” she said gently. “I … have no idea what I’m doing. But we’re going to get you fixed up.”

I hope.

Home was only two blocks away by this point, but Cassidy found herself looking over her shoulder every few seconds as she walked quickly down the sidewalk to her backyard gate. She shared the house with Devan and another roommate, Brooke, both of which were apparently home judging from the number of lights already on in the windows.

Great. Brooke’s going to kill me, too.

Cassidy unlatched the gate and twirled inside, shutting it with one foot and leaning back against it for a moment as she caught her breath. Her heart was still racing, but at least now she didn’t have to worry about someone else in the neighborhood finding out about this little indiscretion.

The backyard was small and unkempt this time of year – two forgotten lawn chairs sat collecting algae on a square of concrete that constituted a patio. A line of stepping stones formed a path through overgrown, mossy grass from the concrete surface to a small shed that was pushed up against the fence. Cassidy stared at the shed for a moment, glancing down at the bundle in her arms.

Perfect.

Still carrying the fox as if it were a baby, she turned the combination on the padlock, removed it, and gave the door a gentle shove with one foot.

There wasn’t much inside the shed – a rake, a broom, and a few other miscellaneous garden tools that had been left behind by a previous tenant. One wall was taken up by rickety wooden shelving that held an assortment of empty jars and old coffee cans. Two bins for plastic and paper recycling sat on the floor, each half filled with the appropriate materials.

Cassidy knelt and lowered the bundle of her jacket onto the concrete. Squinting in the darkness, she found the cord for the light overhead – a naked incandescent bulb placed squarely in the middle of the ceiling. A spider skittered back toward the shadows on an invisible strand of webbing as the bulb began to heat up.

She straightened and looked down at the bundle. It still moved, slightly, with the shallow but rhythmic breathing of the creature. There was another element to the motion, though. She realized that the fox had begun to shiver.

“I’ll … try to get you some food … and a better blanket,” she said, feeling slightly ridiculous at talking to an animal that she knew very well couldn’t understand her.

Balling her hands into fists, she turned and left the shed, leaving the light on overhead. “I’ll be right back.”

Inside, she found Devan sitting at the kitchen table, reading something on her phone while sipping a cup of tea. Cassidy thought about going straight to her roommate but decided that she could at least collect some bedding, and maybe find food, before dropping the bomb.

She hightailed it to her bedroom and went straight for the closet, thumbing through shirts and sweaters to get to the bag of cast-off clothes that was still hiding in the depths. Her hands found the handles of an old paper shopping bag that she’d stuffed with clothing dating back to early high school – she’d intended to get rid of it when she moved in with Devan and Brooke, but like several other boxes, it had been relegated to the back of the closet on the assumption that she’d deal with it later. Cassidy had been living here for two years now, and “later” still hadn’t arrived.

Cassidy tossed the bag onto her bed, an action which she quickly regretted as it sent a cloud of dust into the air. She coughed, then emptied out the bag’s contents.

After a bit of searching she settled on an old pair of ripped jeans to make a kind of makeshift mattress, and a wool sweater for bedding. That ought to make things more comfortable. She bundled up the articles under one arm and made her way toward the back door.

Her jacket hadn’t moved when she returned to the shed. She crouched and slowly, carefully, unwrapped the small creature.

God, I’m sorry … I hope I’m not hurting you.

Under the dim light of the single bulb, she examined the fox more closely. Everything she’d heard previously suggested that if the fox wasn’t trying to attack her, it must be seriously injured. Maybe it has an infection, she mused. The fur that was matted around the injured back leg prevented her from really seeing the wound, but the amount of blood and the weird angle that the leg stuck out at told Cassidy that it must be pretty bad.

She set about transferring the creature onto the pair of jeans. It didn’t like that much at all, and Cassidy found herself looking over her shoulder again, certain that at any moment Devan would hear the sounds and come looking for their source.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to the fox. “I’m only trying to help. I promise.”

When she was satisfied that the animal was warm and as comfortable as possible given the circumstances, she collected her jacket and went back into the house. After a trip to the laundry room to toss the garment in the washer, she made her way back upstairs and crept into the kitchen where Devan was still thoroughly engrossed in whatever she was reading.

“Devan?” Cassidy said, trying to keep the nervousness out of her voice.

“Hm? Oh, hey Cass. What’s up?”

Devan put down her phone and stared up at Cassidy. Her blue eyes felt unusually piercing, even half-hidden under the fringe of her short blonde hair.

“Um.” Cassidy fidgeted with her hands behind her back. Her own hair was almost long enough to reach the small of her back, and she felt the ends of it brush her thumbs as she wrung them together. “I have a problem that I need your help with.”

“A problem?” Devan narrowed her eyes and looked around. “Did you break something?”

“What? No! I’m not a child.”

“Okay, well, what’s the problem?”

“It’s, uh … it’s in the shed. Maybe it will be better if you come take a look.”

Devan narrowed her eyes even further. Cassidy watched as the woman tensed every muscle in her body to get up out of the chair as slowly as possible, not breaking eye contact with her the entire time.

“You’re freaking me out,” she informed Cassidy.

“Yeah, well …” Cassidy didn’t have an answer to that.

She led her roommate out into the yard and to the shed. All the while, she got the sense that Devan was fighting an impulse to ask more questions. When they reached the door, Cassidy put her hand on the knob and turned to her roommate. “Okay,” she said, “before you come in here, I just want you to know that I did this because I thought it was necessary, and I’m asking for your help because I think you know far more about this kind of … thing … than I do.”

Devan made a face. “Just let me in, Cass. What the hell is happening?”

Cassidy bit her lip and swung the door open to let Devan in.

For a moment, Devan looked confused. Then her eyes found the small creature lying on the floor, and she immediately dropped to her knees. “Oh! Oh … oh you poor little guy …” she turned and shot Cassidy a look. Cassidy put her hands up in surrender. “Cass … why didn’t you call somebody? There are professionals who can deal with this sort of thing, you know.”

“I know,” said Cassidy. Truthfully, she had no good explanation. She’d done it with the best of intentions, but even she had to admit that she acted rashly. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have, but … he seemed so helpless.”

“Are you so sure it’s a he?”

Cassidy shrugged. “I guess not.”

Devan looked at the fox. For a moment, Cassidy thought that she saw the same kind of helpless confusion that she’d felt flicker through her roommate’s eyes. Then Devan’s usual steely demeanor returned. “First things first,” Devan said, standing. “You did a decent job of making a bed. But it needs water, and probably food.”

“Yeah,” said Cassidy. What can I even feed a fox?

“Go to the kitchen and fill a squeeze bottle with water. Not too cold, okay? And as for food … that can probably wait, but I could have sworn that I saw an old can of cat food somewhere in one of those cupboards.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Cassidy. She’d seen it, too. A relic from the previous tenants – none of the three of them had bothered to throw it out, in case they’d decided to get a cat at some point.

She stood uselessly for a moment. Devan raised an eyebrow. “Well?” she asked.

“Uh. Right,” said Cassidy. She took one more glance at the fox before rushing back to the house.

Brooke was standing in the kitchen as she let the back door slam shut behind her.

“Cass. What’s goin’ on?”

“Uh …” Cassidy hesitated. She’s going to find out eventually. “Devan’s out in the shed. She’ll fill you in.”

Worry passed over Brooke’s face, and she went out the door without another word. Cassidy knelt to open the cupboard under the sink. It only took a few moments of rooting around before her fingers closed around the hard, cold form of the can of pet food. She pulled it out and examined it, wiping dust off the top with one finger.

Two months past the expiry date. She shrugged. We can open it and check. She stood and pulled the can opener out of the drawer.

Five minutes later, she was back at the shed, her arms laden with a bottle of tepid water, the can of food, a small dish, and the can opener.

Brooke was standing in the corner with her arms crossed while Devan knelt in front of the fox. The light from above turned Brooke’s tight curls into strange, webbed shadows across her face.

“I can’t believe you sometimes, Cass.”

“What? I was just trying to help it.”

“Maybe we ought to get a cat,” said Devan from the floor. “Maybe then you wouldn’t feel the need to nurture every wild animal you come across.”

“It needed help!” Cassidy protested.

“Oh, it turns out it is a he, by the way,” said Devan. She looked up, now. “His leg isn’t broken, but he’s got a pretty bad cut. Looks like a bite or something. We need to bandage it.”

“And just how are we supposed to do that?” asked Brooke.

Cassidy cast her eyes around the small room. On the shelf behind Brooke, a roll of tape caught her eye.

“Some medical gauze, and alcohol or antibiotic ointment. And some clean tape,” said Devan.

Cassidy reached for the tape. “I think there’s some gauze under the bathroom sink,” she said. “Would that work?”

“Sure,” said Devan.

So Cassidy found herself running back to the house yet again.

This is stupid, she thought a few moments later as she handed Devan the implements and knelt before the fox. Brooke followed suit, her curiosity obviously overtaking her irritation.

“You guys are in my light,” said Devan.

“Uh. Sorry.”

“Look, I can handle this, okay?” The blonde woman looked up at Cassidy. “I’ll get him cleaned up and bandaged. But after that this is your responsibility, okay? And as soon as this guy can walk again, he’s out.”

Cassidy swallowed roughly and nodded. She and Brooke backed out of the door and stood in the yard. Cassidy stared at the sliver of light cast by the crack in the door. Night had fallen swiftly, and the backyard was an expanse of black; concrete was indistinguishable from grass.

She could feel Brooke tensed up beside her, trying to find the right word to begin some sort of lecture. Cassidy, at 23, was only a year younger than Brooke and Devan, but sometimes she thought they saw this age gap as larger than it really was. From Cassidy’s perspective, Brooke and Devan saw every mistake she made as an opportunity to impart the knowledge of experience onto her – or at least to make sure that she’d learned her lesson.

“Go ahead,” she said, “say it.”

Brooke turned to her, and though her face was completely shadowed, Cassidy thought she could make out amusement in the woman’s dark features.

“I know you love animals, Cass, but this is ridiculous.”

Cassidy chewed her lip. “I figured that Devan might be able to help. If I lived alone, I probably wouldn’t have brought it home.” This was mostly true, though more because Cassidy knew that if she lived alone there’d be no way she’d have the space to keep a live animal.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Devan is a park ranger, not a veterinarian.”

“I know that! But … she deals with animals sometimes. It’s part of her job.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud yowl from inside the shed.

“Poor thing,” muttered Brooke.

Cassidy bit her tongue.

The yowling continued for several minutes. Cassidy was torn between concern that the neighbors might get wise, and empathetic anguish for the fox. For the umpteenth time that evening, she thought, I’m so sorry. She had no idea how the animal had gotten injured the way it had, but something deep inside her seemed to insist that it hadn’t deserved it.

At last, the noise quieted down. Devan emerged a moment later, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Alright, it’s done. Let me show you how to give him water.”

Cassidy glanced at Brooke, then followed Devan back into the shed. The fox was lying on the floor right where it had been, breathing quickly, half-covered by the sweater. Flecks of blood now marred the gray wool.

“The wound is clean,” said Devan. “I’m not a vet, but it didn’t look infected. I think he’ll be fine.”

Cassidy detected a slight note of fondness in Devan’s voice – was she coming around to the idea of helping the animal?

“So … water?”

“Yeah.” Devan grabbed the bottle and placed it in Cassidy’s hand. “You have to lift his head a bit like this. Make sure the water is dripping out slowly – try to get him to drink it slowly. If he’s dehydrated, he might try to drink too fast, and then he’ll make himself sick.”

Cassidy nodded, and stood still for a moment, holding the bottle.

“Well?”

“Uh. Right.” She knelt and gingerly put a hand behind the fox’s head. She lifted it toward the tip of the bottle. It made a small, weak sound of protest, but didn’t try to stop her. Experimentally, she squeezed a few droplets into its mouth. It lapped them up, eyes flickering open.

Cassidy balked, for a second, upon seeing the eyes.

The eyes … they look … strange. She couldn’t place it, but there was something more behind them, some spark that seemed out of place in the face of a wild animal. She blinked and it was gone.

“You’ll have to keep squeezing. See if you can get him to drink a couple teaspoons’ worth.”

Cassidy did as she was told. By the time she’d finished, the animal did look a little better than it had when she’d found it.

“Good job,” said Devan begrudgingly. “I think food can wait until morning. I’m getting chilled out here. See you back inside.” She turned and left, leaving the door slightly ajar. Cassidy listened until the other two women’s voices were gone, then turned to the fox.

Now that it was done, she felt better about her decision. She raised a hand, tempted to pet the creature, but decided against it, letting her palm hover for a moment, then fall.

He looks peaceful. A spark of affection rushed through her chest.

But Devan was right – it was indeed getting chilly. Cassidy thought about fetching another article of clothing for her rescue but figured that the animal would be fine with its fur coat.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” she said quietly, then stood and left, locking the door behind her.

*****

Cassidy slept fitfully that night. No matter how many times she told herself that the fox would be safe in the shed, she couldn’t stop herself from imagining all the awful scenarios that, however unlikely, seemed like strong possibilities in the darkness.

What if it gets too cold, and he freezes to death? What if something falls and crushes him? What if I didn’t give him enough water, or he’s starving?

She drifted off a couple of times out of sheer exhaustion, but still felt thoroughly exhausted when she woke up in the morning. She didn’t even bother to change out of her pajamas before slipping on her shoes and tiptoeing out the back door. It was nearing seven in the morning, and neither Brooke nor Devan had made a sound yet.

The chill, pre-dawn air bit at Cassidy through the thin cotton of her nightclothes. She rubbed her arms as she made the short journey across the yard. The metal padlock was like ice, and she could only imagine how cold the concrete floor had gotten during the night.

I hope those jeans were enough.

She listened for any sound as she opened the door, but the creaking of the old, rusted hinges meant she wouldn’t have heard the fox even if it were squealing.

But it – or he – was still there, on the floor, right where she’d left him.

Cassidy flicked on the light and knelt to take a closer look.

Still breathing.

The can of cat food was still right where she’d left it. She set about opening it, and as soon as she’d got the lid off, the fox seemed to perk up. She eyed it cautiously, wondering if the rest had restored it enough that it would try to escape. But it made no move.

She emptied the food into the dish and placed it near the fox’s nose. It stirred, opening its eyes and regarding her suspiciously.

“It’s for you,” said Cassidy. “You’ll feel better if you eat.”

Maybe. You’re crazy, Cass. Talking to this animal like it can understand you.

Still, looking into the fox’s eyes as it stared her down, Cassidy couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some sense of understanding, there. Rudimentary, maybe. But something.

A moment passed, then the fox seemed to decide that Cassidy didn’t pose any danger. It began to pick at the food, slowly at first, then gaining some momentum. Cassidy watched it for a while, then remembered that she still had to get ready for work. She hastily offered the creature some water, then stood.

“I have to go now,” she said. “I’m sorry. But I’ll be back later, and I’ll get you some more food.”

The animal blinked up at her, then curled into a tighter ball and shut its eyes.

Cassidy returned to the house and hastily made herself breakfast. The sun was rising brilliantly by the time she left, out the backyard, taking the same route along the edge of the forest. She briefly contemplated checking in on the fox again but decided that she’d only disturb it. It – he – had looked so peaceful.

She was distracted all day at work. Twice she made a customer the wrong drink and had to apologize profusely while working quickly to make the correct order. Julian eyed her suspiciously, and when she went on her break, followed her into the back room.

“You okay, Cass? You seem a little distracted.”

“Uh.” Cassidy stared at him like a deer in headlights. No, I’m not okay. There’s a helpless animal locked in my shed at home, and I can’t stop worrying about him. Saying any of that would only raise more questions, and knowing Julian he’d probably be concerned that she’d contracted rabies or something. “I’m fine,” she said. “I just … uh, I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Julian appraised her for another moment. His face softened. “Well, you’ve got four hours left of your shift. Are you going to be able to stick it out? Otherwise, I can try to call Angela and see if she’ll come in a bit earlier.”

For a split second, Cassidy was tempted by the prospect of taking off early. But the practical side of her knew that it wouldn’t do to miss paid hours, especially if she was going to have to buy cat food for the next couple of days.

“No, no that’s not necessary. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Well … just … ask for help if you need it, okay?”

Cassidy nodded.

Ordinarily, she’d take a coffee while sitting at one of the outside tables on her break, but today she decided that more caffeine was probably the last thing she needed. When her fifteen minutes were up, she took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind.

It seemed to work, for a little while. Maybe Julian’s lecture was the wake-up call she needed. She finished her shift without any more mistakes.

*****

The week dragged on in a similar fashion. Every evening after work, Cassidy would go straight to the shed, before she’d even deposited her bag in the house, to check on the fox. For his part, the animal seemed to be recovering well. It could stand, now, and walk around a bit. Devan had strictly forbidden Cassidy from letting the thing run free in the backyard, and as Cassidy watched it circle weakly on the floor of the shed, she knew that the day it could walk normally would be the day she’d have to let the fox go.

The fox had taken to the cat food, and had quite an appetite, but Cassidy was happy to spend her tips on the canned meals. It felt good to care for something, she supposed. To have something beyond herself to look out for.

Some sort of maternal instinct kicking in? She dared not follow that train of thought for too long.

*****

It was a Thursday evening when both Devan and Brooke texted Cassidy, near the end of her shift, to let her know that they’d be working late. It was odd, Cassidy thought, that they should both be called to work overtime on the same night, but not unheard of. Though Cassidy considered them both her friends, she couldn’t deny that some small whisper of relief passed through her at the notion of having the house to herself for the evening. She could cook her own food and not worry about having to share. She could turn her own music up as loud as she wanted or watch whatever she wanted on TV.

So, she was in a reasonably good mood as she left work that day. There hadn’t been any major incidents at the cafe – she’d pulled herself together after that first shift and hadn’t messed up anyone’s order since.

“Have a good weekend, Cass,” called Julian as she exited the cafe during a rare lull in business. She had Fridays and Saturdays off – all the better for taking advantage of an empty house.

“You too,” she said, crossing the threshold.

She walked quickly, enjoying the last hour or so of true daylight. It would be March next week, and spring not so long after. It was still too cold for the smell of grass clippings and pollen, but Cassidy thought she could detect a ghost of each on the breeze that sent a few strands of her hair whirling across her face.

The yard was quiet, almost serene as she opened the back gate and let herself in. She eyed the shed with anticipation. Would today be the day that the fox was up and clawing at the door, trying to get out? The thought weighed unexpectedly on her chest.

I’ll miss this little guy.

She unlocked the padlock and opened the door slowly, cautiously, her eyes scanning the floor of the shed.

The fox was nowhere to be found. Frowning, Cassidy took a step forward and flicked on the light.

Standing in the corner of the shed, his eyes wide, was a man.

Cassidy screamed and backed out the open doorway. She tried to slam the door shut, but it only hit the padlock that was hanging open from the latch and bounced open again. Cassidy scrambled, nearly falling backward as she misjudged the space where the concrete floor of the shed gave way to the grass.

She was halfway to the house when she stopped, staring. She hadn’t gotten a very good look at him. Did he have a weapon? Was he going to jump out of the shed and finish her off?

Think logically, Cass. She stood like a wound-up spring, ready to erupt into movement at the first sign of trouble.

But nothing came. He’s probably just a homeless guy. A transient. Maybe he doesn’t mean to hurt me.

As her heart rate slowed fractionally, she had to admit that she didn’t have the impression that he intended to attack her. Not immediately anyway.

“Come out of there!” she called. She tried to sound authoritative, but her voice rang meek in her own ears. “You can’t just … you can’t just break into other people’s sheds!”

What the hell are you saying, Cassidy? As if he doesn’t know that. As if this is a misunderstanding.

She waited, slowly taking her bag off her shoulder and balling up her fist around the limp strap, ready to swing it at his head. Seconds passed. Then, a voice rang from inside the shed.

“I’m sorry,” the man was saying. His speech was muffled slightly by the door. “I … I can explain.”

“You’d better!” yelled Cassidy.

“Okay, okay …” she watched as a few fingers grasped the edge of the door tentatively. “You’ve got to promise you’re not gonna shoot me or anything.” A shoulder appeared, clothed in a heavy shirt, olive drab like old army surplus.

Cassidy wanted to ask if he seriously thought she was capable of shooting him – or anyone – but bit her tongue.

Better that he thinks that I’m dangerous.

“I’m not going to do anything until I hear an explanation,” she said. Her voice was steadier but still warbled slightly over the last word.

A face appeared.

Cassidy stared at him, holding her gaze as evenly as she could. His hair was fiery orange and hung in loose, wavy locks halfway past his ears. That in and of itself was unusual enough to catch anyone’s eye out of pure interest.

The man’s expression was one of vague apology, with an edge of fear. Cassidy stood her ground and watched as he slowly walked out of the shed, holding his hands out on either side of his head. He stopped after a few steps, leaving a good six or eight feet between them.

“Okay. So …?” Cassidy asked, narrowing her eyes.

“So. Uh … Cassidy.”

Cassidy’s chest tightened in panic. “How do you know my name?”

He waved a hand slightly in a gesture that said, hold on a moment. His eyes, brilliant green, flickered upward like he was thinking. With a pang of irritation, Cassidy held her tongue.

“You’ve been keeping an injured fox in your shed for the past few days. Nursing him back to health – doing a bang-up job of it I might add.”

Cassidy’s blood ran cold. “Have you been stalking me? Camped out in the backyard at night? Hanging out in the shadows and watching me undress? You … you … pervert!”

“No, no, no! Nothing of the sort. I …” he huffed out a breath as if what he was about to say weighed heavily on his mind. “I am the fox.”

A heavy silence weighed on the air for a moment then snapped as Cassidy burst into laughter.

“You … you what?”

The man’s face fell. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

Cassidy laughed again. “Of course I don’t believe you. Come on, man, you have got to give me a better excuse than that. What, are you … on drugs?” Suddenly it didn’t seem so funny anymore. She felt her muscles tense involuntarily again. “Are you hallucinating, or something? How the hell did you get into my shed, anyway?”

“I … Cassidy I promise you. I was in the shed because you left me in there this morning and then locked the door.”

Cassidy was shaking her head. This was definitely not funny anymore. She backed up further, toward the house, her eyes roaming the yard, looking for an escape route, or a makeshift weapon of some kind. Her grip tightened around the strap on her bag, and she moved her shoulder to demonstrate that she was about to whop him with it. The man was stepping toward her, getting closer.

“Stay away from me!” she yelled, swinging the bag.

“I–I’m sorry.” He looked sad as he stopped in his tracks. “Let me prove it to you, Cassidy.”

She regarded him with deadly suspicion. “Prove what?”

Slowly, still keeping his hands raised above his head, he knelt. “I’m going to roll up my pant leg,” he explained. “The injury is still healing. You’ll see it.” Slowly, very slowly, he took the hem of his pant leg in his fingers and pulled it up over his calf. Sure enough, midway up his calf were the remnants of an awful gash, scabbed and crusted now but still an angry shade of pink around the edges.

Cassidy stepped forward, bending over to get a clearer look at it.

It’s in the same spot as it was on the fox … the size of it is roughly to scale …

“This doesn’t prove anything,” she said, remembering herself. “Just because you messed up your leg doing God knows what …” A chilly breeze caught her hair again, sending it flying across her face. Stepping back, she hooked it with a finger and tucked it back behind her ear so quickly and firmly that it hurt.

“No,” said the man. “Perhaps not. Here …” he glanced behind him as if checking to see if anyone was watching.

Then he looked straight at Cassidy. She felt as though she’d been given an electric shock. The deep green of his eyes was like the mossy ground where Cassidy had found the fox. She stared into them, hearing the blood pounding in her ears. He’d almost be cute if he wasn’t certifiable.

Before her eyes, he began to change. A kind of shimmering light overtook him, like a summer sunset reflecting off ocean waves, and Cassidy squinted against the terrible brightness. It was painful, but she didn’t dare take her eyes off him.

His form was shrinking before her eyes – but more than that, it was becoming something else. It was difficult to tell exactly how he was changing, with the persistent, undulating light, but there came a point at which Cassidy had the distinct sense that there was no longer a human standing before her.

The light began to dim. She blinked and adjusted her gaze.

On the ground before her, where the man had been standing not a moment before, was a small red fox.

Cassidy screamed again. The sound seemed uncontrollable, barreling out of her like a freight train, making her hands shake. When she was finished, she stood rooted to the ground, unsure of what she’d just seen.

I’m dreaming. She took her wrist between thumb and forefinger, pressed and dug her fingernails into the skin. She watched the skin go white and hissed at the pain. She pulled her nails away and examined the reddening crescents left behind.

The fox still stood in front of her.

Cassidy knelt, slowly. She realized that she was shivering. The wind that had seemed so playful when she’d left work now took on a sinister bite.

A patch of fur on the fox’s right hind leg was slightly matted. Cassidy moved slowly closer, twisting downward to examine the wound. This was her fox, all right – as much as any wild animal could be hers.

“I don’t understand,” she breathed.

Who are you talking to? She couldn’t say. But the sense that this animal understood her grew even stronger. She looked at its eyes – they were different, and yet she felt that same electric shock that she’d felt when she’d looked into the man’s eyes.

At once, the shimmering light began to grow again, and Cassidy instinctively stood back, shielding her eyes against the glow. The neighbors have got to be seeing this. But the windows in the house that shared a fence with hers were dark and empty. Before she really had a sense of what was going on, before her surprise truly gave way to any sort of investigative curiosity, the fox had disappeared again, replaced by the red-haired man that had so rudely disrupted her peaceful, solitary evening.

“By the way,” he said with a hint of a smile, “my name’s Tom.”

Chapter 2

The moment that Tom had heard Cassidy’s footsteps crunching through the underbrush, he’d known he was in trouble. As he lay panting on the forest floor, half delirious with pain, he’d hoped that maybe she was a hunter, come to take him out of his misery.

But even in his 29 years, he’d come to learn what a hunter’s footsteps sounded like – quiet but overconfident, authoritative in their ceaseless rhythm – and he’d known without looking that Cassidy was no hunter. He’d been unable to move, and as she wrapped him up in her coat he’d decided, against everything, that he liked her. Rare was the human who’d ruin a perfectly good coat for the sake of some wild animal who was probably beyond saving.

He’d wondered, then, if he was beyond saving. The pain burned through his leg and up his spine, exploding through him with every one of Cassidy’s well-meaning footsteps. For the first 48 hours he’d drifted in and out of consciousness, the relief of cool water fighting against the equal discomfort of being conscious. But then, slowly, he found that he was indeed healing.

This made things worse.

She’s going to find out had been a constant refrain in his mind for the better part of three days. She’s going to find out, and she’s not going to like it. And you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.

With who?

It was unheard of, for a human to know. Tom’s kind associated with each other. The best of humans wouldn’t understand, and the worst of them would try to capture or perform all sorts of unethical experiments, were they to find out. Tom hadn’t intended to assume human form while he was still in the vicinity of Cassidy’s house – but then he’d realized that humans were a lot better at breaking down doors than foxes. Unable to dig under the structure or squeeze through any crack in the door or wall, he’d resorted to attempting to kick out the door hinges.

But such a thing was a feat, even for a human. He’d lost track of time, absorbed in the fresh pain of exertion, and now here he was, standing before Cassidy, just hoping that she wouldn’t try to do anything rash.

“You’re … you’re a … a … uh …” Cassidy looked as though she might faint. Tom had the sudden impulse to rush forward and catch her before she fell, but the woman seemed to steady herself.

“I … my kind … we call ourselves shifters. Short for shapeshifter. Obviously.”

Cassidy stared at him. Even slightly slack-jawed, she’s pretty. She had long, thick, chestnut-colored hair that framed an apple-shaped face so polished and rosy that Tom was half jealous of the strands of hair that caressed it, blown astray by the breeze.

Don’t get distracted.

*****

Cassidy had no idea what to say. She could barely think, let alone come up with a response to this. The idea that this guy was some transient setting up camp in her shed, or worse, a robber casing the place, seemed absurd in light of what she’d just seen. Of course, that didn’t mean that he was safe, or trustworthy. For all she knew this was all some sort of illusion. Maybe he’d drugged her – was there something in the air?

Panic rose in the back of Cassidy’s throat, and she swallowed it heavily. “A shapeshifter,” she said slowly, more just to say something than for any conversational purpose.

“Yes,” said Tom. He looked like he might step closer, but he didn’t move.

Cassidy did it for him. If we’re going to have this conversation, I guess we may as well be quiet. She glanced again at the neighbor’s house, and again saw nothing to indicate life.

She opened her mouth, then shut it. Even as she stood there, watching him, her mind was hard at work trying to offer some reasonable explanation for the transformation that she’d just witnessed. A trick of the light? Am I exhausted? Am I seeing this, imagining things? Am I dreaming?

The more mundane the explanation, the more Cassidy felt as though she were losing her mind. It had seemed so real just a moment ago, but how could she simply accept such a thing?

“Show me again,” she said flatly.

“What?”

“Show me. Do the … thing. Transform into a fox again.”

Tom cast a nervous glance around the yard. “I really shouldn’t be … showing you this. It’s … well, it’s kind of an unwritten rule that we don’t reveal ourselves to humans.”

“Well maybe you should have thought about that before you did it.”

Tom sighed. “Fair enough,” he said. He shut his eyes and took in a few breaths. Cassidy watched as a sort of calmness took over his features.

Then it happened again. That shimmering light … Cassidy’s eyes watered as she fought the urge to blink. She wasn’t going to miss a single second.

It still happened too quickly. Even as she was struggling to grasp the logic of what was happening, her chance to observe slipped quickly through her fingers. On the ground in front of her, a fox stood looking up into her eyes as if asking her to describe what she’d seen. But of course, she couldn’t. She’d never seen anything like it. All the same, those threads of doubt that had wound themselves tightly around her chest seemed to loosen and break, not disappearing completely, but allowing some room for acceptance.

Cassidy drew in a deep breath. As she did so, the fox began to transform back into a man.

This time, Tom raised his eyebrows as if to repeat, now do you believe me? He ran a hand through his hair, and Cassidy was temporarily disarmed by the way it fell back across his cheek.

“I guess I don’t have much choice but to believe you.” Her words felt wooden, but there was only truth behind them.

“I’m sorry to put you in this position, Cassidy,” said Tom. “It’s probably best if I leave.”

“No,” said Cassidy. The quickness with which the word fell from her mouth surprised her. Something in the back of her head was screaming at her not to let him leave. If he leaves, you’ll never find out if all this really happened. You’ll be stuck with the knowledge that you might be going crazy.

Tom gave her a quizzical look but made no move. “Your leg,” she continued, “who … or … what happened?”

Tom’s eyes flickered away from her for a second. His answer was slow. “Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Cassidy frowned and crossed her arms. “I nursed you back to health. I think I deserve to know.”

“Deserve?” he asked. For a moment, Cassidy thought he might be angry with her. “You act like it’s some prize, to know how I hurt myself.”

“No. I just … I just want to know. If there’s something dangerous in those woods. My roommate, Devan … well. I guess you’ve met her. She works in there. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Tom gave Cassidy a hard look, then sighed. “It was a trap.”

“An animal trap?”

The slight pause before Tom’s “yes” told Cassidy that he still wasn’t telling her the entire story. But a trap seemed likely.

“You were lucky to escape, then,” she said.

A slow, mischievous smile crept across his face as he said, “Lucky that you found me.”

Cassidy stepped closer to him. The sunset was in full swing now, and the light was golden, smoothing out the man’s features and lending an extra sparkle to his eyes. He was, she decided, quite handsome, in an infuriating sort of way.

“I fed you cat food for three days,” she said. The words came out awkwardly.

“Well … my tastes change a bit when I’m in my animal form.”

Cassidy nodded. She allowed her gaze to run furtively across his form, taking in as much as she could about the shape of his body, the various contours and freckles, his posture, the small movements of his hands as he fidgeted, watching her. There was something vaguely fox-like about him. Whether it was his sharp features and bright eyes, or just the orange tone of his hair, Cassidy couldn’t say.

“I didn’t think hunting was allowed in these woods,” said Cassidy.

“It’s not,” said Tom.

Cassidy waited for him to offer more of an explanation. When he didn’t speak, she said, “Was it a hunter’s trap? Or maybe a scientist trying to capture a specimen for research?”

Tom glanced down at his leg. “I don’t think this was for science,” he said.

Clearly this is going nowhere. Cassidy changed the subject.

“Are there others like you?”

“You mean … other shifters?”

“Duh.”

“Um. Yeah.” Tom crossed his arms, then uncrossed them. He looked up over the fence. The sun had dipped below the roofs of the surrounding houses, and the backyard was lined with shadows now.

“Other foxes?” Cassidy pressed. The idea that perhaps she should just cut her losses and let Tom leave crossed her mind, but then, if he really wanted to leave, he could have done so at any time. The back gate was still unlocked. Heartened by this fact, she looked at him, waiting.

“Well, yes,” said Tom. “But … not here. Not that I know of. There … well, there have been shifters for a long, long time. We were around long before they started putting in all these housing developments.” He gave a wan smile. “There’s less room for us, now, so … we’re more concentrated. I myself live with three others. Anyway … it’s better to stay together. Safer.”

“Safer? Are you in danger?”

Tom shrugged. “You saw what that trap did to my leg. I nearly lost it.” He looked at her for a moment as if trying to decide whether he should say what he was about to say, then barreled ahead. “There’s something going on right now. Something bad. Someone … or something … has it out for us. That’s why we have to stick together, and why we can’t trust outsiders.”

Cassidy chewed her lip. Tom’s speech was still vaguely stilted like he wasn’t telling her the whole story. And even more odd, Cassidy found that she wanted to hear it.

“Well … you can trust me,” she said. It came out more like a question than she’d intended.

Tom smiled. His smile was brilliant; it seemed to cast fresh light over the entire backyard. “You did save me, it’s true. Although … you also fed me cat food …”

“Hey! You said that was fine!”

Tom laughed. “I’m kidding, Cassidy.” His face grew serious. “Really, though. I thank you. Sincerely … if you hadn’t come along and taken me in … I might not have survived.”

Cassidy almost smiled, then, like all of this was normal. She pressed her hands against her hips, suddenly unsure of what to do with them.

“I have to go, though,” said Tom quietly. Cassidy thought, oddly, that he sounded reluctant. “Promise me you won’t tell anybody about … about this. About me.”

Tom’s eyes searched Cassidy’s. “I promise,” she said at length. Not like anyone would believe me, anyway. Even as she said it, she felt a wave of strange melancholy wash over her. She’d expected to miss the fox, maybe a little, but this was something far more than that. Awkward silence stretched taut between them as Cassidy prodded at the feeling, trying to understand it. Eventually, she cleared her throat and said, “Will I see you again?”

There was a pause. Tom’s eyes seemed to fixate on some element hidden inside her, something that even Cassidy herself was not aware of. She felt exposed, but it lacked the discomfort that normally came with such a feeling.

“I’ll find you,” he said firmly. Then he turned and went out the back gate, giving Cassidy one final look before he disappeared.

Cassidy felt a momentary urge to run over to the gate and watch him go, but she ignored it. She stood in the middle of the backyard for a few minutes, listening to the distant sounds of cars passing on the main road a few blocks away. The sky was quickly turning to dusk, deepening from pale blue to a deep, darkening gradient of navy and purple. She imagined Tom transforming back into a fox and running through the shadowy blackness of the woods, and felt a sudden misplaced pang of anxiety as her imagination produced another trap for him to run into.

“Be careful,” she said to no one in particular.

She walked to the shed and found her old clothes on the floor where she’d left them. Where she’d left the fox, only this morning. She picked them up, along with the half-empty food dish and the bottle of water and brought them inside.

*****

Tom ran through the woods faster than he ever had before, keeping to the very edge of the forest, weaving in between the row of trees that separated the parkland from the sidewalk. He felt keyed up, not quite anxious, not quite happy, but filled with a restless energy that he didn’t know how to apply.

A part of him felt like he was running away – like there was something more he should have done for Cassidy. Had he thanked her well enough? Had he done enough to reassure her? The further he got from the woman’s backyard, the more he felt as though he were running away from something.

But what?

His home was not far from Cassidy’s, all things considered. The ability to travel in a straight line, through woods and over backyard fences, certainly helped. Still, it was full dark by the time he arrived, and the porchlight shone like a beacon as he came near.

Tom’s home was an older, slightly run-down, two-story building that sat like a sentinel on the very edge of the forest. It was the last house on a dead-end street, a fact which had been a significant selling point when he and the others had originally scraped together the funds to acquire it. The backyard was so overgrown with tall grass and weeds that were it not for the fence, it would have been difficult to tell where the property ended and the park began. The shifters liked it this way. The neighbors, not so much.

The small red fox wriggled his way under a gap in said fence, and pausing momentarily to ensure he hadn’t been followed, transformed back into a human before entering the house.

The sound of the door opening brought all three of his roommates to the entrance.

“Tom!”

“You’re alive!”

Several pairs of arms were flung around his neck and shoulders, and Tom closed his eyes, hoping that the relief of being back home might calm the restlessness that still coursed through every muscle. When the embrace ended, he leaned back against the door to shut it.

His roommates stood in a half circle around him. Petra, a short, muscular woman with black hair chopped back into a pixie cut, was as catlike as ever, leaning against one wall and staring at Tom with hazel eyes. Tall, sinewy Christopher – the Crow, they called him, for obvious reasons – faced Tom directly. On Tom’s right side, a heavyset blonde woman named Rachel reached out to touch him, concern maring her otherwise cherubic features.

“I smell blood,” said Petra, taking a step toward him. “You’re injured.”

“Was,” began Tom. He looked down at his leg to see a spot of blood had soaked into the fabric of his pants. In his haste to get home, he’d re-opened the wound. “Oh. Shoot.”

“I’ll get the bandages,” said Rachel.

“Where were you?” asked Chris. “What happened?”

“I’ll tell you,” said Tom. “But let me in, first, jeez.”

The circle parted, and he walked into the living room.

The interior of the house was reasonably well-maintained, if a little messy. Books were stacked haphazardly in every corner. One entire wall was devoted to shelves, stuffed to capacity with older, more fragile volumes. An eclectic assortment of furniture stood in a random pattern, adding to the sense that the whole room might come toppling down like a house of cards if one were to bump into something. Tom half threw himself into one of the recliner chairs upholstered with a rough, deep maroon fabric, and stretched out his legs on the section of visible wood floor before him.

He shut his eyes for a moment. The smell of home overtook him. It was a deep, dusty smell — the smell of old books, and dried flowers, and layers upon layers of cooking spices. Some of that restlessness went away as Tom breathed deeply, but he still couldn’t quite shake the memory of Cassidy’s face, her fear, then her confusion, then … something else.

“Here. Roll up your pant leg.”

He opened his eyes to see Rachel kneeling in front of him, holding a wad of white gauze and a roll of medical tape. He did as he was told.

“Yikes, Tom. This is ugly.” There was fear in her voice. The others gathered around, staring over Rachel’s shoulder at Tom’s “ugly” wound.

“Thanks,” he said.

“What happened?”

He sighed and rubbed his temple. “It was a trap. Old. Rusted. I was stupid. Ran right into it.”

“You were damn lucky,” said Petra. “Those things can break bones.”

“It was designed for something bigger than me. It scraped me up good, but it didn’t shut far enough to trap me. I managed to pull myself free.”

“Probably caused more damage, doing that.”

“What would you have done? Just laid there and waited to die?”

Chris interjected, “That still doesn’t explain where you were for almost a week,” he said.

“I … I was rescued.”

“Rescued? By who?”

Tom hissed as Rachel cinched the gauze right around his ankle. “A human,” he said.

The three shifters froze. Tom met each of their eyes, confronting them.

“A human?” Petra, as usual, was the first to speak.

“You heard me.”

“Did they find out?” Chris asked.

Tom sighed again. “Yes. I tried to get out but … she was keeping me locked in a shed. Not in a bad way. I couldn’t walk; I couldn’t have defended myself against a raccoon or what have you.”

“But … you could have transformed. Broken out.”

“That’s exactly what I was trying to do. She came home early. She caught me.”

“Should have just bolted,” said Petra, shaking her head as she watched Rachel finish her ministrations on Tom’s ankle.

Tom was silent for a few minutes. Chris had taken the seat opposite him, evidently eager to find out where the conversation would lead.

Rachel stood. “You should stay human, at least until that wound is full closed.”

Tom nodded. He could feel Petra’s glare on him and stubbornly refused to look at her. Rachel gave Tom a maternal sort of look. “He had no choice,” she said simply. “This girl … did she see you transform?”

“Uh huh,” said Tom. He avoided the specifics – better to let them assume it had been an accident than to reveal that he’d had to prove himself.

Chris clicked his tongue and shook his head. “She’ll tell all her friends.”

“She won’t!”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because …” Tom faltered. “Because she promised not to.”

Petra laughed derisively. “She promised? What, did you make her pinkie-swear?”

“Look, I just … I think we can trust her.”

“You think?” Petra stepped forward. “There’s been new developments since you were gone. There’s been word that someone else got … taken.”

“Taken?” Tom straightened in his chair. “Who?”

“One of the coyotes. Rafe. They found his body … for a couple hours we thought it might have been you.”

Tom shut his eyes.

Why is this happening? Why can’t I just have some peace and quiet?

“What did his body look like?”

“The usual,” supplied Rachel grimly. “All cut up. In animal form, naturally. You know if someone was leaving human bodies around, then the humans would have no choice but to get involved.”

“Maybe … I dunno, maybe a human could … help.” Tom barely knew what he was saying as he said it. All he knew was that the restless feeling inside him demanded that he get his point across, that Cassidy was not a threat. He couldn’t imagine her harming anyone or aanything, try as he might.

“You’re awfully hung up on this woman,” said Petra. Her tone had calmed, slightly, but Tom could see that the argument wasn’t over yet. “Are you sure all she did was rescue you?”

“What are you implying?”

Petra shrugged. “Maybe she’s not just a human. Maybe …” she shook her head.

Tom stared at Petra. Maybe Cassidy had been unusually kind, for a human, but Tom hadn’t spent his life in complete isolation. He knew they had the capacity for goodness. Whatever Petra was trying to say, it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be.

“I just think that … a human might be able to see the bigger picture. We all know there’s something going on in these woods. Somebody wants to hurt shifters, for some reason – and they’re already doing a pretty good job. A human … a human could investigate without putting themselves in danger. It’s humans who oversee the parkland, anyway. Shouldn’t they know what’s going on in their own woods?”

His statement was met with another volley of mixed grievances from his roommates. Humans weren’t to be trusted. Humans could never understand. Humans might be impartial, but that also meant that they might end up taking the side of whoever was hiding in the forest, attacking the shifters. It was enough to give Tom a headache, and eventually he said as much.

“I need to get some sleep,” he said, standing up and wincing as the action caused his bandage to rub against the wound. “We can hash this out tomorrow.”

Though he was exhausted, sleep was elusive that night. Tom lay in bed for what seemed like hours, staring at the ceiling and thinking of Cassidy. The silence and the darkness had an awful finality to them, as though the sky itself were urging him to give up on Cassidy and accept that he’d probably never see her again.

Tom’s last thought before he finally drifted off was of her; her brown eyes and dark hair and some imagined, lightly floral scent that, in his dreams, clung to his skin like mist.

---

“The Man Behind the Fox” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Working at a coffee shop and sharing a flat with her best friends, Cassidy Atkins leads a rather uneventful and ordinary life, but not for long. When she comes across an injured fox near the edge of the woods that run behind her house, she can’t help but bring the animal home. When she lets it rest in her garden shed while she nurses it back to health, though, she would never expect to face this unworldly truth…

Thomas Fawkes has been hiding his secret for decades; the man and the fox are one and the same; he is a shapeshifter. Long ago, shapeshifters were the familiars of witches, but they gained power and independence when the two were separated. Life for shapeshifters has been relatively peaceful – all until now. When he is discovered by Cassidy and his whole identity is compromised, will he choose to run or trust her?

Cassidy will soon be thrust into the dangerous world of magic, where everything is not as it seems. A mysterious force is threatening the whole kin of shapeshifters, and as Cassidy finds herself falling hard for Tom, she becomes entangled in a battle that may have more to do with her own ancestry than she could ever imagine.

“The Man Behind the Fox” is a paranormal romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

Get your copy from Amazon!