Vixen Hunted

by Christopher Kincaid

  "Sit down, Timothy."

  He closed the door and sat. He felt like squirming under her steady gaze. Maybe he had visited the room more often because of pranks than not.

  "Were you going to tell me?" she asked.

  "Tell you what, Aunt Mae?"

  "Mother Mae. That your companion is a fox." The abbess sipped her tea.

  Timothy felt like Kyle shoved him into that icy pond again. His thoughts scattered. What happened? Was Kit all right?

  "I…she…I mean…"

  Aunt Mae laughed. "I always knew your desire to help would land you in trouble." Her mirth faded. "Deary, you do know how much trouble you are in now, right?"

  Timothy could guess.

  "They consider her a demon. Even Sister Grace, but after the girl took a chunk out of Sister Grace's arm, I can't blame her."

  "Kit did what? Where is she? Is she okay? Sister Grace, I mean. Is Kit okay?"

  Aunt Mae sipped her tea. "Your desire to protect her is noble but misplaced. She is quite capable on her own. More than a certain boy I know." She paused. "You made a promise, didn't you?"

  Timothy could only nod.

  The abbess shook her head and sighed. "You always did want to prove your mother wrong."

  The teacup returned to its spot on the desk. "You know the Church's official stance on her kind."

  "They are demons to be…exterminated." Timothy winced at the word. He refused to picture what would happen to Kit if the Inquisition actually found her. The paper in his pocket pressed against his heart.

  "And now the sisters know her identity. I know her identity."

  Timothy swallowed.

  "Deary," Aunt Mae raised an eyebrow. "We have talked most nights since you arrived. She told me most of what happened already and admitted to how she roped you in to help. She is fond of you."

  Aunt Mae sighed. "I am sure you can see my problem."

  "Aunt Mae, she is not a demon!"

  "Mother Mae, deary. With what I have seen, I can understand how a boy like you could fall under her spell. But I am just a humble nun. Who am I to go against the teachings of the Church?"

  Timothy felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him.

  "However"—Aunt Mae's mouth quirked with a smile—"However, the Inquisition is not the Holy Mother Church."

  Timothy's eyebrows shot up.

  "Seriously, Timothy. Do you think I am hard hearted? I became a nun to help all of God's creation. God is a master painter. He loves variety." Aunt Mae tsked. "I would think you understood me better than anyone. The only demons that exist are those men made. God doesn't create demons. Saying the devil can puts him on the throne of God. I guess you forgot that lesson."

  "So what—"

  "I love you, deary, but I need to balance the welfare of you and my sisters. You know what the Inquisition would do if they discovered someone with a tail. Yes, I saw her tail." Aunt Mae rubbed a temple. "I will have to bear this sin…I only do this because you are like a son to me."

  "But you just said—" A knock sounded at the door.

  "Come in."

  Sister Tera stalked in. A newly stitched cut and purple bruise marred her cheek. "What is there to talk about?" she asked.

  "I wanted to apologize, sister. You are in the right. I just had to think things through. It is just the way I am," the abbess said.

  Sister Tera's mouth gaped. Timothy blinked against his hot eyes. Did Aunt Mae mean to turn Kit over to protect the abbey?

  "I knew you would do what is right!" Sister Tera said. "I am sorry I doubted you."

  "It is good to have doubts, even with me, sister."

  "We had an Inquisitor as a guest!" Sister Tera said. "He was the one who pointed out the demon to me! He hunts her. His name is Tahd Valador."

  "Why was I not told, sister?" Aunt Mae scythed Sister Tera with her gaze.

  "I…I didn't think…"

  "Can I go?" Timothy asked. Inquisitors. Kit being seen. So much for a peaceful, relaxing day.

  "You can, deary. Just don't do anything foolish. I will see that it works out. It is best for all of us if we are finished with this. Sister Tera, I will need to speak to Brother Valador."

  "Timothy," Aunt Mae's voice grew stern. He stopped with a hand on the door handle and looked back. "This is not your fault. I fully bear the sin of it and whatever the Inquisition does. You keep your promises. I keep mine."

  Did she just wink?

  Timothy closed the door behind him.

  He leaned against the heavy door. He had a promise to keep—Aunt Mae was right about that. Timothy knew what he had to do. He lifted himself off the door and made his way to Kit's room.

  "There you are." Hands pulled Timothy short, and Sister Rae offered a smile. "You look troubled, Timothy."

  "I need to go—"

  "Such gossip floats here," Sister Rae said. "If the young sisters only knew. You have a lovely lamb. She is an odd one. Cat is an appropriate name. Her wool is so soft too!"

  "Sister Rae—"

  The plump nun wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him aside. "The sisters are mistaken. Yes, I've heard the fancies Sister Tera has spread. The silly ones…no matter. I suspected when I first saw her red hair. Don't look surprised. The silly nuns watch your love's room."

  "She's not…I'm not—"

  Sister Rae laid a finger over his lips. She chuckled. "I may be a nun now, but I wasn't always. I know what I see. I am old enough to call it out too. No. I see you are not ready, brother." She laughed at his shock.

  "You had forgotten what we taught you, yes? I failed with these young sisters too. Sister Grace had too much influence. She is not a bad nun, but she does like to tell stories and doesn't switch out fancies. Though she has a strong arm, as your love knows now, should the story be told right. Done is done. Yes, well, I do ramble."

  Sister Rae pulled Timothy away and toward her own rooms. She shoved Timothy through the door. Plants of all types tangled the single window, and a small wardrobe sat at an angle away from the wall.

  "Remember how you used to peek at the girls? Yes, looks like you do." The nun waved a hand at the square hole cut into the base of the wall. The lighter color of the wall spoke of the wardrobe's usual placement. Timothy remembered those ventilation shafts.

  "Sister Grace wants to be the abbess. Oh, she is a good sister in her own way. She likes proof and facts. Look at me rambling again. Go see your love, brother. You are like a younger brother to me, you know. Don't fret. Mother will see everything works out. Go on now."

  "Thank you, Sister Rae." Could he use the ventilation shafts to get Kit out?

  "Just don't sin. Loudly, anyway." She laughed at his expression. "I know you haven't. All of us who raised you know better. Go on now. I need a nap. Mucking the stable is too much for my old back."

  Timothy shook his head. His doubts still nagged him. What did Aunt Mae intend? Would she give Kit up? He wiggled into the air shaft.

  Timothy cursed as he scraped his elbow against the unforgiving stone and focused on staying calm. The tunnel pressed on him. He remembered it being much larger. It was much darker too. He wiggled further. The shafts wound throughout the abbey, and luckily this shaft directly connected to Kit's room, if Timothy remembered right. He did not relish the idea of squeezing down one of the many branch tunnels. He remembered the panic of getting stuck in one of the branches.

  He inched toward a dull orange glow that reached into the darkness.

  Only to encounter a wooden wall.

  His heart thumped. He took as deep a breath as he could in the tight space, wiggling forward until his hand could reach the wooden blockade. He knocked as loud as he could and hoped he had the right room. Sister Rae enjoyed his pranks; it would be like her to set him up for one of her own.

  "Kit!"

  Silence.

  Stone walls pressed. Some shafts narrowed more than this. The thought did not help. He thumped the wood again. "Kit!"

  He heard a muffled voice. "Oh!
Is that my hero coming to save me? Whither doest I hear his knocking?"

  "Over here."

  "I hear my savior, but mine eyes cannot see! 'Tis mine own desire that speaketh from the wardrobe?"

  Timothy fought down his rising panic. "Just move the damned thing so I can breathe."

  Wood scraped against stone. "Oh, mine Fate! What shall I do when my hero is but a knave who seeketh only to seeth yon women disrobed? The wall has eyes that stareth at my fair, innocent breast!"

  Light needled Timothy's eyes. He wiggled toward it on his stomach. He squeezed out of the opening and thwacked his head on the wardrobe.

  "Mine hero has arrived!"

  "Mind moving it a little more so I can get out?"

  "Thou doest only wish to gaze upon mine fair skin! No! Thou shalt not bless thine eyes with my feminine secrets. What say you?"

  "Just let me out."

  The wardrobe scraped toward Timothy, trapping him in darkness again. "Mine hero lacks theatrics befitting his station," Kit said.

  What had gotten into her? Was now the time to fool around?

  He sighed. "Mine eyes have been blinded by thy radiance. I cannot gazeth upon the sun forevermore. I canst only blindly bask in the heat of the distant star."

  Kit laughed. "Not bad for a mutton head." The wardrobe skid away.

  Timothy scrambled out of the tunnel before Kit could have second thoughts.

  "You do make a gallant entrance. Anyone else would just use the door. Only a few nuns are standing guard," Kit said. "But this will make a good play! Your lines need some work, but it would make for a wonderful street show." Her ears perked.

  "Now is not the time for plays." He frowned at her ears.

  She fluffed one. "No point in covering them. It is nice not to strap them to my head. There is always time—"

  "There was an Inquisitor here."

  "You mean Tahd? Yes, I've already seen him."

  Timothy gaped.

  Kit chuckled. "Seriously, mutton head. Do you think I wouldn't know the man after he watched me all those weeks for that noble? I saw his good luck charm too, of course. Although why an Inquisitor would hang around a noble instead of proclaiming him a heretic and burning me at the stake does have me perplexed." She stroked her hair.

  "In any case"—Timothy cleared his throat—"we need to get you out of here."

  "Oh, my hero!" Kit faked a swoon. "Seriously, shepherd, do you really think these nuns could keep me here if I wanted to leave?"

  "Well, I…"

  She stepped toward him. "Have you learned nothing about me? I am no one's prey!"

  Timothy took a step back from her furious growl.

  She flicked his nose. "I've been waiting on you, book bug. Did you find the town?"

  Timothy rubbed his nose. "Kind of."

  She flicked his forehead. "Kind of?"

  "Will you stop it? Yes, I found out a little bit about the town. It's called Belafonte."

  Kit let out a girlish squeal and wrapped her arms around him. They tumbled to the floor. "You found it! It isn't just a story!" She nuzzled his chest. Then her head bounced up. "It is east, isn't it?"

  "Yes, but—"

  She slapped him hard on the chest. "Good. We are going then!" She jumped to her feet and pulled Timothy up. "It took you long enough. I was almost out of the bean leaves you talked about. The nuns kept refusing to bring them to me and insisted on trashing them every morning I left. They do keep the bed lice away." Only then did Timothy notice the bean leaves around the bed. "I will miss the daily baths though. They did wonders for my tail. Want to see? It is a reward for your book work."

  Timothy held up a hand. "Later. I don't think your gallant hero should indulge in the sight of his fair maiden in distress until after she is rescued."

  Kit let her skirts fall. "Well, pff. This maiden just may not reward her hero later. Best to grab happiness when it is offered!"

  "We need a plan," Timothy said.

  "We take our knapsacks, stuff them with cinnamon rolls, and walk out the door," Kit said. "It's a good plan."

  Timothy felt heartened. What jangled his nerves, Kit found amusing. Timothy realized the truth of her words. They could just walk out one night. The abbey lacked weapons, and the nuns went to sleep early in the evening. Leaving would be easy and solve Aunt Mae's dilemma.

  "It sounds like a good plan." Maybe that was what Aunt Mae intended all along? Could it be that simple?

  "It is one of mine. Now go stuff our packs! The hero must make a good exit even when he makes a poor entrance!"

  How could she make him feel better so easily?

  A grin slid across his face at the spark of an idea. She kept him off balance. Now was the time to flip the sheep. "There are many different ways a hero can make a memorable exit."

  He grabbed Kit, twirled down into his arms, and looked into her eyes as any storied hero would. Her ears twitched and her cheeks colored. He leaned in close to her lips. He could feel her warm breath.

  Then he flicked her forehead with his free hand.

  He stood her back up and bowed in a way that he hoped looked suave. "Until tonight, my dear." He went out the door, leaving her rubbing her forehead and twitching her ears.

  The two nuns flanking the door jumped. He bowed like he imagined a hero would and sauntered down the hall before either could say a word.

  Chapter 8

  The Inquisitor leaned against a tree, his gaze spearing the clear sky. Tera wondered what those eyes had seen in service to the Church. She shivered. The late summer promised a cold winter. Her cheek throbbed from the gouge the demon had left her. She hoped it left a scar. She had wrestled with a demon. What nun could say that? Well, Sister Grace, of course. And Nika, Abby, and Rebecca.

  But they didn't do all that much.

  Tera had to hurry. Sister Abby watched the demon, and Tera knew Sister Abby all too well. She was likely dozing somewhere to avoid the work. Why couldn't the abbey have locks? Tera had to take the watch over, and Sister Grace could watch during the night.

  "The abbess—" Tera said.

  "Do you know what the worst part about hunting is, sister?" The Inquisitor followed a hawk with his finger.

  She blinked. "What? Killing—"

  "I remember my hunt on the southern continent. I tracked a fabled white rhinoceros for more than a week. Do you know what a rhinoceros is?"

  "I…I don't know."

  "It is a great beast with iron hide and a single horn it uses to skewer men. The white is the rarest and meanest of all." The hawk circled over the forest.

  "I found a white after a month in those parched, God forsaken lands. He led me on a merry chase. The beast trampled to death one poor sop. Another broke his leg trying to get out of the way. Even a musket could barely penetrate its hide. But I finally cornered the brute. I was down to just a halberd, but the white was wounded and housed a devil. He came at me with that single great horn as large as my arm."

  "What happened?" Tera imagined black blood streaming from wounds. Demons really did take any form, but they all had black blood. Tera knew the fox did too. She was certain.

  The Inquisitor touched the scar on his cheek. It made Tera's wound look like a pitiful thing. "The hunt ended. The worst part about hunting is how it is over in just a single moment." The hawk dived into the trees.

  He smacked his thigh and Tera jumped. "Just like that. All those days and weeks of tracking and matching wits finished in a blink. All a hunter can do is savor each moment and prolong the hunt as much as he can without letting the prey escape."

  Images of a white beast charging at Tera flashed in her mind. Could she stand against such a thing? Her imagination split the scene. The horn skewered her. She cut the demon's head off in a single slash of a sword. A nun with a sword?

  "The abbess wants to speak with you," she said. She could be the first nun to wield a sword. Anything was possible for a young demon hunter.

  "But every hunt must end." The Inquisitor stood up. The Sea
l of the Inquisition caught the light. "We shall see if today ends this hunt. With luck, it will not."

  Tera took the lead. She enjoyed swellings of pride as she passed her sisters working in the gardens and the hall. Pride did not become a sister, but she puffed out her chest with it anyway. She had done something important for the Church. She helped the poor, but there were always more important things to do. What good did feeding the poor do when demons roamed to kill them? Tera, the female Inquisitor. It sounded good.

  Sister Nika ran down the hall. "Tera! Tera! I can't find Evelyn. She isn't in her room! I brought her meal, and she wasn't there!"

  "Evelyn?" the Inquisitor asked.

  Sister Nika squeaked when she noticed the man, but Tera didn't have the time. She knew Sister Abby had shirked her watch. "I will tell the abbess. I am on my way there now. Keep looking. I am sure she isn't too far. She is probably scrubbing the dirt in the garden, knowing her."

  "This quiet abbey isn't so quiet," the Inquisitor said.

  "Especially lately," Tera muttered. "Here is the abbess." She knocked on the worn wood. "I will have to be going."

  "Come in," a voice said from the other side of the door.

  The man laid a hand on the door's iron handle. "It is best to be wary when the prey is cornered."

  Tera didn't wait to see if the abbess needed anything. She jogged down the halls, not caring that such was unbecoming the dignity of a nun. She raced past Timothy. The sooner this business was done, the sooner the boy would be freed. She rounded the corner to the demon's cell.

  Sister Abby and Rebecca flanked the door. Tera was certain they would have been off somewhere.

  "Sister, the demon hasn't tried to escape. But—" Sister Abby said.

  "I need to speak with it," Tera said.

  Tera's slippers whisked across the stone, and she wrenched the door hard enough to make the old hinges squeal.

  "Honestly, sister. Do you not know how to knock?" The red devil stood by the window. Those evil, fluffy ears swiveled. Tera made the sign of a cross. Could fox ears write curses on the air?