Bunnygirls 2

by Simon Archer

“Your bad attitude, little mister!” My finger shot up as I waved it around in circles opposite of my cheeky head swivel. “Don’t think you can just disrespect me because you think you’re so hot, cracking wise, talking trash. Where are your manners? Is that how your mother taught you to talk to others?”

  “Wolves don’t have mothers, Rabbit.” The thug looked off to the side as he flared his nostrils in a pondering glance into nothing, along with the other Wolf thugs beside him, alongside my own boys. “I think. I’m not actually sure. I haven’t noticed any bunny Wolves, so probably not.”

  “Can’t remember, eh?” I tried to spark a conversation for more information. “Does Paw-Paw not let the ones he considers lesser participate in the Blood Moon banquet? That must chafe your hides, now that we’re so close to the next one.”

  “Our city doesn’t actually have a Blood Moon banquet this time around.” One of the thugs commented. “Preymeister said it was because they were running low on slaves as it is, so we couldn’t afford to lose what little bunnies we had to get more. Made a lot of nobles upset when the baron made the announcement, so they left to go to other cities. Only a few stayed that liked their bunnies more as pets and slaves than food. Some of us just don’t care about remembering whatever we forgot. How important could it have been, anyway?”

  Odd. Very, very odd. Informative, but odd. Explained the bunnies in the streets, but raised way too many questions to satisfy, the big one being “why?” and maybe a few more. What was Preymeister’s game here? Was he just wanting to have the Blood Moon feast alone? He had the power to enforce a citywide monopoly on them, and the reputation to keep anyone from questioning it. Was there something I was missing? Did it have to do with those blessings of the Regent? He was right next to the generator. He could have had a setup just like the one in Thumperton, but better. He wouldn’t even need bunnies if he wasn’t worrying about memories. He had all the juice he needed with the most powerful generator, and he could have been juicing all of the time. A battle-festival could have just been just the occasion to prove that he was the strongest and most powerful over and over again, with no true master above him. That was such a simple desire. In that way, he was much more like a grunt than a noble Wolf. A little brasher than most, standing up to the Regent to claim the city for himself like that.

  Big Paw-Paw, on the other hand, couldn’t have been happy.

  “Your boss isn’t one of those few Rabbit-lovers, I’m guessing.”

  “No, he was super upset about it,” another thug chimed in, “but his whole operation was based here, so he couldn’t just up and leave. But he’s been mumbling to himself that he was going to be a part of the banquet if he had anything to say about it.”

  “Is that right?” I said, “Are you guys invited to this one?”

  “He didn’t say,” the first thug answered, “I’m sure that some of us who do good at our jobs will get to go. That’s just good business, right?”

  “Did he invite you to the last one?” I asked knowingly.

  “I don’t remember.” The second thug scratched his head. “Maybe? The nobles say it’s a sacred occasion that only they and those who serve faithfully get to be a part of. Some of us had to have gone. We’re all loyal Wolves.”

  “Does the boss ever talk about the last Blood Moon?” I sowed the seeds of doubt in them. “Reminisce about it? Think back to ‘the good ol’ days?’”

  “Yeah, especially now,” The first thug answered, “whenever he’s complaining about Preymeister to himself, he says that things in the city were better under Buckmaul. He was the last baron, I think. I don’t remember him. Apparently, there was a great banquet with him.”

  “So he does remember the last Blood Moon banquet, then,” I said as I led into some trust-undermining explanations. They shook their heads, as expected. “Do you guys know why the nobles have Blood Moon banquets? They use the stolen magic from the bunnies they eat to help them regain their lost memories. The Blood Moon helps that process along. Without any bunny magic, most Wolves I’ve worked with only remember back about a year. How far back can you guys remember?”

  “About a year.” The first one stuttered out.

  “Do you know how often the Blood Moon happens that makes the banquet possible?” I asked, already knowing their answer again. They shook their heads again. “Once in about two hundred years. Now, I haven’t lived that long, and I won’t partake in Blood Moon banquets. I think the whole practice is reprehensible. But I’ve talked about it with some Wolf nobles who have. They get a lot of bunnies, like Tinker here, using a lot of grunts like you guys, but only a few little nobles get the spoils of that labor. You’re the ones breaking your backs so that they can commit these heinous evils, and you’re not reaping a crumb more reward than the Rabbit who’s going to his nasty servant’s bed hungry tonight. They tell you to mistreat Rabbits and call it a reward all its own. They say it makes you superior. Do you honestly think they treat you better than the slaves when they don’t even give you your share of anything? Even Rabbits are treated better since they don’t have to go into fights with other packs so the nobles can get more things they won’t share. Why do they deserve more without contributing to any of it? Why would you work towards something you’re not getting any sort of return from? Maybe you don’t care about memories. They’re just one of the many examples showing that you are all getting absolutely stifled in your rightful earnings.”

  “I’m actually working on another solution to the memory problem.” Tinker pulled herself up so she could use her hands to talk around my neck. “I wouldn’t want the Wolves we’ve got learning how to read to forget all of that, right? We’d never have to worry about a Blood Moon ever again. It’s not finished yet, I’m still in the researching stage of development, but I’ll get it working for all of Lord Hank’s Wolves as sure as my name’s Tinker!”

  “The bunny has a name, too?” The second thug pointed to Tinker, still on my back as well all walked and talked. “Is she also a noble?”

  “Nope, I’m just a very loyal servant!” Tinker kissed me on the cheek. “Names are just a part of being in Lord Dragonoak’s household. Just here we have,” She climbed up to sit on my shoulders so she could point out my boys, “Snoopy, the white Wolf with spots. Foxhound is the reddish guy next to him. Then we have Labrador, the yellow-tan Wolf right behind them, and Bolt next to him, the dark grey one. Behind us are Pooch and Blue. We still don’t know why Blue has blue fur, but it helps us spot him in a crowd.”

  “Are they all nobles?” A third thug, who had started listening in, asked us, “And they all work for you?”

  “No, I’m actually the only ‘noble’ in the noble house,” I clarified, “That title is just a temporary formality, though. Nobody gets elevated treatment working for me, Rabbits and Wolves alike. They all get equal shares of food, warm beds, hard labor, and time to rest at the end of the day. The names just make things so much easier to call on people in a crowd. None of that ‘hey, you, over there, next to the other one’ nonsense. It’s something you can call your own.”

  “I don’t know.” The first thug just stared at me. “How are you supposed to remember--”

  “Why are you talking to the captives?” The familiar voice of Big Paw-Paw cut through the conversation as we made it to the checkpoint safehouse to meet him. “Have you numbskulls told him anything important?”

  “They were just interrogating me, Paw-Paw,” I defended them, “I was the one telling them important details about my household, based on their skillful questions.”

  “That is not how a Wolf interrogates a Rabbit.” Paw-Paw pulled up his gold-knobbed cane to point with it. “You don’t have any broken bones, and you’re not in any of their mouths.”

  “That kind of pain would send me into shock,” I corrected him, “How would they get any information out of me if I’m just screaming bloody murder? Seems like they had the right idea, and I was more than ready to give them what they wanted until you came.”

 
“May I remind you about how I consider talking back to me an act of disobedience?” The crime lord showed off his cufflink rune yet again. “Remember why you’re here, and keep to your place, or I might just start forgetting about some very weak and defenseless bunnies at the mercy of my men.”

  “Alright, I’ll be good.” I backed away. “You have all of the memories, the charms, the food, the respect, and the power, which you’d never share with anyone you didn’t respect as an equal. Those are spoils of hard work you just can’t give out, even to your men.” I gave the thugs I was chatting with a quick look.

  “They’ll all be mine to spoil anytime I decide to if you’re not careful.” Paw-Paw poured the stink eye on me. “Or do you want me to kill one now to prove my point?”

  “No, no, the point’s been made very clear.” I picked Tinker up off my shoulders to set her back on the ground. “Where do you want me?”

  “Follow them.” The broad-shouldered Wolf pointed with his cane to the ten thugs down the street. “They’ve been instructed to kill you and send word to me at the slightest provocation. Is that also clear?”

  “Of course.” I gave Tinker a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s going to be a very boring shift for them. We’ll all do what we’ve been told.”

  “You better.” Paw-Paw turned his attention to Tinker. “I’d hate to have to expand my incentive beyond just my captives to ones you care about a bit more personally.”

  “That would be unwise.” My voice deepened on reflex. “This is between you and me. There are few things keeping my heart all squishy and soft for you to manipulate, and there’s not enough world to burn to make me regret saving one of mine.”

  I hated it when I acted emotionally. Anger wasn’t my favorite thing to leave unchecked. Revenge was best served well-done and ruthlessly thorough, and a tantrum was always ultimately unsatisfying for me. Some lines shouldn’t have been crossed, no matter what I had originally planned. Hopper would have had to be quicker than my temper was short for me to keep my word on this dick-measuring contest and still come out on top. Hard to balance saving future members of my household and protecting the current ones. My girl was reliable, though. She’d have found a way to cover my ass and save the girls anyway.

  Besides, I could have still saved them here and now. As my stare fought his, I was thinking through how to incapacitate this guy without triggering that deadman’s charm. If he simply couldn’t touch the signal charm anymore, that’d have been the best of both worlds. I could have cut off his arm and kept him alive long enough for Tinker to work her charm mojo and keep both signals active. Then we’d just kill all the stragglers before they could send the message out to the cache themselves. Better yet, we could have followed them as they ran to the cache.

  That was all only relevant if Big Pee-Pee backed down from swinging his hostage negotiation around like a helicopter. We were going to see what kind of Wolf he was.

  “I’m the one who makes threats around here, Rabbit.” He put a finger right next to his cufflink, just another finger’s width away from it. “With this, I’ll do as I please with you, and it pleases me to deal with threats with extreme prejudice. Do you want me to take this threat seriously?”

  “Only if you were serious about yours.” My machete was already at his neck, with a host of spears at mine. If I made one slight move, he would have been passing out on the floor from blood loss, and the race to save him before his heart stopped would have begun. “Were you?”

  “This is very disobedient, vermin lord.” His finger edged closer to the rune, close to touching it, but not quite ever making it. When his finger got close enough, he slowed it down just slightly enough to give me more time to break before he damaged his bunny supply. He was a hostage-tease, and nothing more. “I think that might deserve at least three--”

  “I’ll burn every last one of them alive myself if it guarantees my people’s safety.” I stared him dead in the eye. “Along with your entire empire. Think about what you can afford right now. This is all wasted time, opportunity, and effort, all because you want to act tough in this one moment and threaten the exact wrong person. Think of all of the planning, all of the resources spent, all of the waiting, the endurance, just to get things to this one moment. At best, you miss the only decent opportunity to fight Preymeister before the BloodMoon. You gonna waste all of that because you wanted to win against a silly vermin lord? Is a Rabbit really worth the nuisance?”

  “I don’t have time for this.” He dropped his hand, the charm stayed on, and the bluff was called. “Go to your post. Keep Preymeister off me. I’d hate for this idea of yours to fail so miserably that someone gets hurt. This will be my favorite Baron’s Day festival ever, or else.”

  “Sure thing.” I made a heart with my hands to show Tinker, then ran over to my escorts to my post.

  Well, no accounting for his personal taste, but I could at least have promised that he’d remember this festival for the rest of his life.

  15

  “They never tell you about all of the waiting a sniper does in the movies, do they?” I joked, mostly to myself, but definitely loud enough that my restrictive attendants standing above could hear me.

  They had me on the corner of a building clear across the city from the square where the party was at. From my little scope window, I could see everything, but I’d have to have been blind to miss the giant castle in the back. A lavish brownstone structure to make any Scot or medieval enthusiast drool, and well past a hundred feet tall, pushing a hundred fifty at the highest tower in the middle. That still looked fairly small compared to the massive wall surrounding it. The towers, though, were at least two-thirds tower comprising the castle’s whole, poking up like crowned straws behind the wall. And it had a moat and drawbridge! Classic. I definitely wanted it, just to sit in its grand hall throne room once. Practically, I could rule from a stool, but that didn’t mean I didn’t at least want one minute in the fluffy embrace of royalty. Throw in a few ‘forsooth and anon’-type sayings, have a crown, and a gold-hilted sword. I loved that I got to spend so much time in the Great Burrows to indulge the boy I hadn’t quite let go of, yet. This whole place was beautiful around every corner.

  Looking around its battlements and guard towers, I saw at most seven armed guards patrolling around, spaced out like they weren’t allowed to see each other. At its front gate, there were zero guards, even inside to the main courtyard. That stone fortress was just a few warm bodies too many from a haunted ruin. There had to be more guards around. Three different spots in the guard patrol paths were wide enough to sneak an elephant in. I thought they must have been standing guard at the festival, or throughout the city.

  And I was half right. While there were guards there, only about ten total were on duty. Seventeen guards would not stand as a protected city, but seventeen guards plus another several dozen in partial armor, boogying down and dancing to Rabbits playing music, shored up those numbers for me. That was something that Thumperton needed: a few musicians and a town holiday. Mental note to get that fixed when I made it back there.

  Speaking of holidays, I was pretty impressed by the festivities. They had booths set up for vendors selling carnival-type foods and knickknacks, and tables set up for Wolves to eat. Looking down on it, it seemed like there were Rabbits eating at the table, too. Peeking out of the purses, nibbling on some of the veggies at the edges. They even gave some of them plates. And the bunnies were out and about just like the hares, though some were still on their leashes. What was going on? Was Rabbit abuse a ‘behind-closed-doors’ event around here?

  “What’s a movie?” One of my keepers, who I was calling Donatello, asked me.

  “Oh, um, it’s a kind of story that’s acted out,” I answered, still scanning around the festival to keep an eye on everyone, “I got a big collection of them as payment for a job. I’ve watched more of them than I care to admit.”

  “How does that work?” Leonardo, another thug I’d named in my head, asked me, “I
f you have to act it out, do you have your slaves do it for you? Does someone have to read it for them?”

  “They’re actually pre-recorded. The people who act it out are usually famous rich people. Kinda like nobles. A little too close to nobles sometimes, if you ask me.” I kept up the small talk as I looked around.

  Big Paw-Paw was doing his best not to look nervous, in as regal a fashion as possible. Other Wolves would come up and talk to him from time to time, obviously bringing up meaningless small talk as he just faked a smile and nodded away at them. He had thugs covering all of the exits out into the street, though they were making shallow attempts at making it discreet. With all of the streets leading straight there, more of Paw-Paw’s syndicate thugs were working their jobs than there were official city guards patrolling around at about five-to-one. That could have been really good or bad, depending on how this assassination played out.

  My boys were having a blast, dancing and partying away just like the rest of them, and making real asses of themselves, too. That put a little pride in my chest, to be honest. Of all these festivalgoers, my people brought the party along with them. And they were doing a damn fine job keeping all the city and castle guards drowning in alcohol. Again, that could have played amazingly or terribly for us at the end of this. Enemy reinforcements and emergency back-up were both eliminated, thanks to my people.

  “You have nobles perform for you? The movies, I mean” Michelangelo, yet another mentally named thug watching me, chimed into the conversation, “How much power do you have? How big is your pack?”

  “No, these guys do the acting for oodles of money,” I said, “And they don’t do it for me. They do the acting in front of a special device that can see it, then it makes a memory of what it saw, which some smart people cut up, mix up, and cook up into a little disc, or a little box if it was between the seventies and nineties. Someone buys that, and they get a part of the total money. When you’ve got billions of people going out to buy them, it can be a lot of money.”