Shepherd Hunted (14 page)

I will not let you do this. He needs to live his own life.

“No!” Evelyn wanted to shout, to rage, but she kept her voice silent. “Tonight, we will save him before it is too late. Tonight, I will keep my promise.”

Joseph will not want this.

Evelyn ignored the mad voice and pulled her knife.

* * *

The night froze, and nothing stirred. Even the stars looked frozen in the clear sky. Timothy let his legs and mind wander through the woods. He stuffed his hands into his coat. The gnarled trees spoke of solidity and peace. He hoped the trees heralded the future. He couldn’t guess what they would find at Belafonte. Maybe he could convince Kit to continue to travel east. There was much to see. Already, he was farther from home than he had ever thought he would go. It was funny how Kit’s home pulled Timothy away from his.

Leaves crunched.

Icy sharpness pressed against his throat. Timothy managed a wordless yell before a thin, strong hand closed around his mouth.

“Tonight your dad is waiting, my baby boy.” Evelyn’s voice warmed his ear.

Damp warmth slithered down his throat.

“I made him wait for so long! Too long! But we had to be clean to join him. I had to be ready. Joseph.”

Even just swallowing threatened to lay his throat open. Instinct drove his hands to grab Evelyn’s wrist. The knife didn’t move. Evelyn’s arm might as well have been the trunk of an oak. He thought he had gained back most of his strength!

His mother didn’t seem to notice his struggle. “No! What I do is good. We will be in heaven. You are wrong! Wrong! Clean. I am clean and you are a dirty voice in my mind. Insane!”

Timothy heaved with all his strength. The knife pulled away from his skin. A hair. A knuckle.

* * *

I will not let you harm him,
the mad voice shouted in Evelyn’s mind.

“Shut up!” Evelyn shouted. “You are always there telling me what to do. Not now. Tonight we will go see Joseph! He is waiting. I will keep my promise.” Timmy was so weak from all the sin burned out of him. If only that voice would get out of her way, she could send her son home.

Evelyn growled and demanded her arm to obey. It shook with the effort. It didn’t matter if she had to fight both her sinful son and the mad woman inside her head. A mother did what she had to do. For her child’s sake.

For my child’s sake.

* * *

Evelyn’s arm moved back and forth in his grip. The blade plunged close despite Timothy focusing everything on keeping the knife away. Suddenly, the knife pulled back.

His mother’s face twisted as she raged. “Stop getting in my way! Mad voice. Devil! Give me my arm back, promise breaker.”

A dim part of Timothy’s mind wondered just who she was speaking to. His arm shook from keeping the sharp edge from his skin. If he let go, he just might end up seeing if this Joseph—his father?—really was waiting for him. He managed to force her arm a little farther. Evelyn’s fingers clawed into his cheeks.

“Of course he wants to go! Joseph never saw my little Timmy. Timmy will want to be with his mother! He should be clean enough now. He was sick. Burned it out of him. Burned some of it out of me. I am not worthy of Joseph, yet he was kind to me. Kind to us! You don’t deserve it. You always hound me. Bite me. Question me. Hate me.”

Her hand slipped from Timothy’s mouth. He tried to yell, but his throat clenched with fear. His arms burned from keeping the knife away. He would never have guessed his mother’s thin arms held such strength. All those years of washing gave her muscles to rival a swordsman.

“I am excited too. I cannot go first. It would be selfish, my dear. But I will follow soon. Mother is never far from you my filthy, troublesome boy. Mama keeps her promises.” Evelyn stroked his hair.

The knife started to edge closer. Timothy could feel his arms giving out
. If only Kit had made me walk on my hands for the week!
A half sob, half laugh escaped.

Timothy saw a whirl of motion in the corner of his vision. A heartbeat later the woods around him tilted. The ground drove his breath from his lungs, and silver spots flickered in his vision. Stars flickered through the few stubborn leaves defying their fate.

He rolled to his side, gasping for air. A flurry of red and black rolled just a few feet away. Steel gleamed and disappeared. A white-ended tail flicked and disappeared.

“Demon! I will clean you! Joseph. Joseph!” Evelyn rolled on top. A fist smashed into Kit’s face. Once. Twice.

Kit grunted and heaved Evelyn back to the leaves. Her ears lay flat against her head.

Timothy pushed himself up. His arms shook under his weight. He had to stop them. He had to—

Evelyn rolled to the top. She held the knife up in two hands. Kit growled and clawed at Evelyn’s face. “Tonight. Tonight. Tonight.” Evelyn chanted. “Joseph!”

The knife fell. A heartbeat. An eternity.

Somehow, Kit caught Evelyn’s wrist and twisted the knife away. The tip of the blade pointed at Evelyn’s chest. Evelyn cursed, and her left hand grabbed her wrist. Kit’s tail lashed, and her free fist smashed into the side of Evelyn’s face. The two rolled. Metal caught the moonlight. Kit twisted around and on Evelyn’s back. She slammed the woman’s face into the ground. Timothy’s mother jerked. Kit smashed Evelyn’s face deep into the soil.

“Stop, Kit.” Timothy lurched to his feet. “Stop it!”

Kit crushed Evelyn’s head into the ground twice more before he reached her. He grabbed her shoulder. Leaves and twigs matted her hair and tail. She struggled against him for a moment before her eyes regained focus.

Kit gasped, rolled off Timothy’s mother, and turned her over.

Evelyn lay still.

Kit leapt at Timothy. “Oh, Timothy! Don’t look.” She wrapped her arms around him and turned him away. “I didn’t mean—”

Timothy pushed her away and gazed at his mother.

Her right hand gripped the hilt of the knife. The left hand grasped the knife hand’s wrist. The blood on her chest looked like a rose. She liked roses, didn’t she? Timothy didn’t know. Evelyn wasn’t his mother. Aunt Mae was more his mother than this woman. This woman was just some mad woman who cleaned too much. She was just some mad woman who cried out in the middle of the night about broken promises. Evelyn’s blank hazel gaze stared at him without accusation. Timothy didn’t remember the wrinkles around those eyes. Her lips curved into a smile. Timothy never saw a peaceful smile on his mother’s face.
Maybe she was seeing her Joseph.

Kit wrapped her arm around him. He stroked her hair as she stroked his back. He felt like he should feel something. Mostly, he felt numb. She was his mother, yet not. He should feel something, shouldn’t he?

“You really need to comb your hair,” he said.

Kit looked up and frowned. Her cheek was going to be purple in the morning. Sweat and tears cut through the dirt. “You are bleeding!” She ran her fingers over his neck.

“I am fine.” He looked at his mother. “I am fine.”

Kit’s ears twitched. “I hear Daeric and Yuzu. You are not fine, muttonhead.”

She pushed back and regarded him with hands on her hips.

“Really. I am fine,” he said. “She was my mother, but she wasn’t really. I didn’t know her very well. She was only the crazy lady who—”

Kit’s slap shattered Timothy’s vision. “She was your mother! Your mother, Timothy. I killed your mother.”

Timothy felt tears in his eyes. Kit really did have an arm on her. Her words rang in his ears:
I killed your mother.

“It wouldn’t do for them to find me like this.” Kit’s tail lashed. Tears choked her voice. “I will see you in the tent.” She turned and shot a concerned look over her shoulder before disappearing into the darkness.

Yuzu and Daeric crashed into the small clearing a moment later. Daeric held a long knife, and Yuzu held a stoat stick. They stopped when they saw Timothy.

Yuzu stumbled back with a hand over her mouth. Her eyes locked on the knife in Evelyn’s chest. “Who—”

“My mother,” Timothy choked on the words, “tried to kill me.”

Daeric looked at Timothy. Timothy thought it was the first time the man actually saw him. His brow drew down, and his hand tensed. “Almost did from the looks of you.”

“I need…” What did he need?

Yuzu stared at Timothy, and her brow knitted.
Why are her eyes wet?

“I don’t know where Sis is, but you—Daeric, take care of things.” Yuzu grabbed Timothy’s hand and pulled him toward the camp. Daeric said something, but Timothy didn’t know what it was.

Timothy followed in a numb haze. Kit really did have an arm on her. His eyes still watered.

“Seriously, Big Sis, where are you?” Yuzu asked.

Timothy followed on wooden legs. Their pair of tents dominated the tiny camp. Smoldering coals of the campfire offered a dim red glow. Kit sat outside one of the tents with her skirts fanned around her.

“There you are, Sister,” Yuzu said. “Where were you? Something happened. Timothy says—”

“I know what happened,” Kit said. “Mind giving us some time, Yuzu?”

Yuzu nodded and gave Timothy a frightened, concerned look. “I will help Daeric with…with…” She shook her head and backed away.

Really, I am fine.

“I’m sorry. So sorry. Come here.” Kit held her hands out. “I didn’t mean—”

“You had to. She would have…Evelyn would have…” Timothy’s throat squeezed the words.

“So you are not—” Kit’s outstretched arms quivered.

“I’m…” He collapsed to the ground, and his head fell into her lap. He tried to say he was all right, but no words came. Tears slid down his cheeks.

He wanted to tell her she had too strong an arm. That she did what she had to do. That he did not blame her. That Evelyn wasn’t really a mother.

No words came.

Her hands stroked his hair. She cooed soothing sounds. A dam he didn’t know existed broke. Years of memories flooded and surged.

Evelyn tending his scraped knee. Aunt Mae comforting him after Evelyn’s first mad rant. Soft hazel eyes and stern hands. Sharing honey rolls. Evelyn pushing him away. Aunt Mae stopping Evelyn from beating him. Memories of Honheim, still too fresh, added to the maelstrom. He felt fear. Fear he had hurt Kit. Regret that he didn’t feel more for those who had died. Regret for not being able to save Evelyn from her madness.

Kit’s hands and voice anchored him against the torrent. “I am here, my shepherd.”

Christopher Kincaid
spends his time wandering worlds of paper and ink. He sports a negative tan after too many hours in front of computer screens. In addition to having a weakness for good tea and books, he is often found indulging his love for antique video games.

Hunted Trilogy

Vixen Hunted

Shepherd Hunted 

Memory Hunted (Coming Soon)

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You can read more about Japanese folklore, culture, and American anime culture at Christopher's blog 
JapanPowered

For more information about Christopher's books check out his 
author page.