Shepherd Hunted (4 page)

The mob stopped. People squeezed against him. He pulled from his feverish thoughts enough to notice how everyone clustered around the east gate. The same soldiers Timothy had seen earlier faced the crowd holding spears and halberds in formation.

A woman shouted. “You are going to kill us! We have to leave!”

“We have to leave. What about our families?”

“You are thinking the same thing.”

The lead soldier thumped his halberd. His bellow cut through the noise. “Go home and stop listening to rumors.”

Timothy noticed the strangeness around him. Panicked parents held children in their arms. People had their possessions strapped to small carts or on their backs. Not all the carts held furniture. He could make out bare feet peeking out from some of them.

What is going on?

“Sir.” A young man in a militia uniform stood at the front of the crowd. “I have a baby…I—”

“Go home,” the grizzled soldier said.

“It’s not too late.” The young man stepped forward. “It’s only been a day since it started. It is not a rumor. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. So fast. It must have started during the festival.”

“No one is to leave the town. That is Lord Heim’s order.”

“You can’t make us stay here!”

“What about the children?”

“Lord Heim left us to die.”

“It is the Black Death all over again!”

People shouted, thrusting fists and holding young children in the air. The soldiers shifted in their formation. The captain’s voice boomed over the noise. “One last warning. Go home. Anyone trying to leave will be punished by death.”

The crowd pushed forward. The soldiers shoved against the tide, and several people yelled in pain. The noise drove the mob into a frenzy. As one, they pressed tight against the soldiers, heedless of bared steel.

Timothy struggled against the surge of people that crashed into him. More people rushed from the streets to join the flood. More than a few were children.

An elbow smashed into Timothy’s midsection. He gasped and wormed his way toward the edge of the mob. The formation pressed against the gate, the ranks ragged. People ignored the steel and pushed against the gates until the last uniformed soldier disappeared into the swarm.

The heavy wood groaned.

Crack!

The iron bolts meant to keep attackers out, not in, gave up the struggle.

“Form up!” Somehow the order cut through the melee.

From his vantage point, Timothy could see the soldiers who had escorted the lord from the city. The red-uniformed men formed ranks one hundred yards away. The front line knelt and aimed muskets. Another line immediately behind them stood and shouldered theirs.

People spilled from the gate like milk from an overturned bucket.

Manmade thunder shattered flesh. Timothy closed his eyes against the sounds of death. Another volley ripped the air. He crouched and clamped his hands over his ears. They only muffled the sounds. He staggered back into the alley, turned, and ran. He darted through the streets, past still more people heading toward the gate. He stopped in an unfamiliar part of town, breathing hard. He wiped his sweating brow with the back of his hand. He paused and stared at the back of his hand. Round black spots stared back.

It couldn’t be.

Timothy had read about those black marks. He knew what they meant.

Death.

I have to get Kit out.

The stories said escape was the only way. Escape and keeping away from people. He forced his legs to move. He doubled back until he recognized a fountain and worked his way toward Melanie’s inn.

I can tell her from a distance. She will be fine. Trent will help her.

The soldiers couldn’t cover both gates. It didn’t matter. Kit could find some way to get out. Sweat dripped into Timothy’s eyes. Distant shouts bounced down the streets. Timothy thought he heard more musket fire. Imagination, he hoped.

He burst into the inn. The common room was empty. Not even Melanie stood behind the counter. The order of the inn looked strange compared to the teeming streets.

Upstairs all the doors were opened. The first room held a rumpled bed. Clothing still hung on the drying racks near the fireplace. Timothy swallowed and staggered down the hall. The last door on the right was closed. His hand gripped the doorknob, and he took a steadying breath.

Empty.

The beds were crisp, and the room looked like it hadn’t been occupied. Timothy sagged against the door. She was with Trent after all. Trent would have left. The soldiers would let the rich through. Money moved people more than compassion. Jealousy and relief churned his stomach. He closed his eyes. He had to believe she had gotten out, even if it meant she was with that man. It was better.

After several moments, relief won the fight. Timothy felt well enough to stand. Outside, shouts grew louder. Timothy took a floundering step. He worked toward the steps and half fell down them.

Outside the inn, a group of people raced past him. Several men carried staves. A few women held knives. They ran toward the east gate. Timothy hugged the wall to avoid them. The whitewashed stone was pleasantly cool against Timothy’s hand. He rested his cheek on it and closed his eyes. They burned beneath the cool of his eyelids. The sounds of panic grew dim.

“Oh, my poor boy. Look at what she has done to you!”

Timothy’s eyelids fluttered. He was on his knees with his cheek still pressed against the whitewash. His blurry gaze slowly focused on a pale face with flat, hazel eyes. Timothy felt a strong hand on his arm.

“Mother will take care of you. Come.”

“Evelyn?” Dryness rasped his voice.

“Come with me, dear. I have been looking all over for you, naughty, dirty boy.”

Timothy’s ears hummed with shouts, curses, and crying. Fog gripped his mind. “Kit?”

“Tch. Don’t think of that latrine whore. She isn’t here for you. Your mother is here. She broke her promise to you, I’m sure. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. But it is well. Your momma is here. Soon we can all be together again. Forever. Once sin is gone we can all keep our promises.”

“Needs to escape,” Timothy said.

“You just need cleaned. Yes, cleaned. Your momma will take care of you.” Evelyn dragged Timothy to his feet. “Come. Come.”

Timothy tried to resist, but his muscles refused to work. He hung limp in his mother’s grip. Everything he had done in the last few weeks had been too late. Too late to tell Kit about what happened to her town. Too late to realize what not telling her meant. It was all too late.

It was too late for him.

It was too late for anyone.

At least Kit was safe.

She had to be safe.

Where was the fool shepherd?

Kit wandered down another street. Three days she looked for Timothy. Three days she expected the idiot to wander back to their room with apologies. Maybe she had gone too far with her trick with Trent, but the shepherd deserved it for being wool-brained. He shouldn’t have hid the truth from her. She had suspected what he scrawled, but to actually see it confirmed—that was beside the point. He may have done it out of a misplaced sense of kindness, but that rankled even more…as if she was some doll that couldn’t handle reality! Trent was even worse. The man was lucky he didn’t lose a hand before he fled to whatever that manor was. Funny how Trent didn’t even bother to ask her to join him once the bodies starting piling on the street. Her nose twitched with the black scent of illness, and her ears pushed against her hood. Timothy couldn’t be sick, could he? Her heart pinched.
Where are you, Timmy?

Shouts splintered the silence as Kit rounded a corner. Sister Tera stood on the edge of a crowd surging toward the open gate. Kit chewed her lip. Perhaps the nun knew where Timothy had disappeared to. It was better than wandering around for another day.

Kit pulled her hood lower and crept along the edge of the street.

* * *

Thhkoom.

Sister Tera winced.

Screams split the air. Only five days ago, people had screamed with sinful joy in the same streets. Only five days ago, the worst she had had to step around was sicked-up mead.

She lifted the hem of her habit and stepped over a crimson pool.

Tera swallowed bile. She had long since lost a year’s worth of meals. Her cheeks were dry. She never realized a person only had so many tears.

If only the soul stopped crying.

People ran away from the shattered gate. Mothers lugged limp children. Men dragged wives with faces blackened by the illness.

Only five days ago Tera had wanted God to punish the town for its sinful festival.

A man collapsed, crying. He stroked a woman’s black hair. Her eyes stared at the mocking blue sky and open, oozing black ruptures covered her face. “Help us, Sister. Help us! Tell me, what did we do for God to do this to us?”

Tera didn’t want this. She only wanted people to see their errors.

Musketfire lanced into the unfortunates still milling by the gate. Soldiers firing on their own people! She left the man to his wife. People surged around her and away from the gate. Why didn’t they bother to escape by night? It didn’t matter. They couldn’t outrun God’s judgment. Tera knew God’s judgment could be swift, but she had never really understood what that meant.

She understood now.

People raced past, trying not to touch each other. Rumor said the illness moved by touch and by sicken breath. It made sense. Touch and shared breath were a sure part of debauchery.

But the punishment was too harsh.

“I didn’t mean for this, Holy Father,” Tera whispered. How many times had she said that?

She neared the gate. People moaned. She didn’t have any fears of being fired upon. The soldiers standing in the distance broke their ranks, and one soldier doubled over and retched onto the field. Tera guessed they were used to seeing her habit by now. Her heart thrummed. Part of her wanted to escape and leave the sinners to their fate, but she stayed because that was what a nun did. Sister Grace and Mother Mae had both taught Tera to care for those in need. It was the highest calling and the heaviest chain.

She knelt beside a bearded man. Red blossomed on his chest and red froth bubbled when he tried to speak. She laid her hand on the man’s chest, close to the gaping wound. His gaze pleaded.

She made a sign of the cross. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…”

“Amen.” The man’s stare locked onto what Tera hoped was heaven before she finished.

Several men in black clothing pulled a wagon toward the gate, their faces hard. These men also had nothing to fear from the soldiers across the field. Tera could not blame Lord Heim. Some people still thought God’s judgment could be avoided simply by keeping away from afflicted people.

Tera turned away. Why did God have to punish so harshly?

She stopped, and realization dawned on her.

God didn’t only punish the town for its debauchery. No. God punished because the town allowed a servant of hell to walk freely among them. They even welcomed it! Tera hadn’t forgotten how the fox demon had danced at that ball. Tera still didn’t understand why the town bishop had invited her and the Inquisitors, but it did end with Tahd’s capture. All the same, the fox was also invited and welcomed.

That had to be it. God would punish the town as long as the demon walked free. That also meant Tera was partially responsible for the illness. She had failed to capture the fox when she’d had the chance.

Her legs shook under her. The realization made her dizzy. Could she really be the one to blame? Not fully. The blame was the demon. It was the source of God’s displeasure. Only that explained the harshness of his hand.

She had to find the demon and end this.

Evelyn would help, if Tera could find her. The fool woman had disappeared shortly after people took sick. Timothy also didn’t appear as he had said he would.
Did Evelyn find him?

Tera turned toward the center of the town. Her footsteps echoed in the empty streets. She needed help. The fox was too strong and crafty for Tera to handle alone. She thumbed the scar on her cheek. She knew that too well. She needed to get the bishop to help.

The church loomed. Buildings stood far back from the tombstones that marked holy ground. A cemetery near the center of the town struck Tera as strange. Normally the dead rested on the outskirts of a village. Tangle grass grew wherever gaps opened in the paving stones. The crowded tombstones and stone vaults resembled the streets Tera had left behind. Beyond the maze of the past, the church’s door stood closed. Tera frowned.
Why were the doors closed? People needed access to God, especially now.
She crossed the distance, climbed the stone stairs, and rapped the heavy iron knocker.

“You won’t find the bishop here.”

Tera turned, and a bent woman with her gray hair tied in a severe bun held up a wizened hand.

“Is he out helping the people?” Tera asked.

The woman cackled. “Helping the people. A good joke, that.” She cocked her head. “So you don’t know? Well you are young.”

The woman pointed to a hill dominating the horizon. Atop the hill glittered manors. “God’s servant hides up there behind locked gates and armed militia with the rich. At least Lord Heim was honest and got out of town as soon as this started. Looks like God’s man abandoned us.”

“I know what we need to do to turn away God’s wrath.”

The old woman laughed. “You sound just like the new prophetess.”

Tera blinked.

“Not heard of her either? She is said to be able to heal this sickness.”

“And you believe this?”

The woman shook her head. “If I did, would I be here by this empty church?”

“There is a demon is this town. If we find it, I am certain God will show mercy.” Tera knew for certain that God would once the fox was in chains. No. Once the fox burned.

“S-Sister. Could you please pray for us?” A mother close to Tera’s age shuffled forward. The woman held a threadbare cloak closed. A few signs of her future blackened her face. A small girl clung to the woman’s skirts. The girl looked at Tera with luminous blue eyes, and her tangled blond hair hugged healthy cheeks.

“Maggie, don’t go bothering the nun,” the old woman said. “I think she just might be better than the prophetess. Can’t hurt to hope at this point, eh?” She laughed at her own joke.

Tera forced a smile and descended the church’s staircase. “It is not a bother.”

People of all ages appeared from the surrounding tombs. Several more watched from the streets beyond. Tera glanced at the old woman.

The woman shrugged. “They looked to me for help, so helped them I did. We gathered around the church. It never hurts to be close to the house of God at times like this.”

“You are too modest, Caroline,” a man said. “You kept all of us from losing our heads.”

Caroline snorted. “Fat lot of good it did many of us.”

Tera felt foolish. She could have been a grandchild to most of the people, and many had children in tow. Tera’s heart froze at the looks on their faces.

The man removed his cap. “Sister, would you pray with us?”

“Please, Sister.”

“Yes, please.”

Caroline smirked. “Seems a pretty face is more inspiring than an old woman.” She knelt with visible difficulty. “Best not keep us waiting, Sister.”

Tera’s eyes flooded.
These people need me. I will end this. I will find the demon and end God’s wrath.
She pulled out her rosary. Her hands shook. She couldn’t just leave them. More people gathered; soon the small square in front of the church filled. Many more stood among the tombs.
And many will soon be in them,
Tera thought. She swallowed. One by one they knelt. She knelt with them to keep her knees from shaking. The church loomed behind her.

“Hail Mary, full of grace…”

Children’s voices and voices edged by long life followed her lead.

Finished, Tera climbed to her feet. Wrinkled faces, smooth faces, young faces, and dying faces smiled up at her with relief. She hoped the Holy Mother would spare a few of those faces.

Caroline smiled. “You have a good, strong voice. I am sure the Holy Mother and God heard us through you.”

“You make a good nun, Sister.” A petitioner looked up. The fine hood shifted enough to reveal red hair. Her gaze stabbed Tera. “Tell me, where is my shepherd?”

Tera took an involuntary step backward and gasped. Tera could feel vileness in the air around the hooded creature.

Tera forced her voice to work. “Demon!”

Several people looked at the demon with confusion. The fox stood and glared. A small fang flashed in the mirthless smile.

“Don’t tell me you still think that of me, Sister. Need I repeat the sacred words again for proof? ‘Hail Mary, full of grace…’ or is this more sacred? ‘Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.’ Need I continue?”

Tera’s throat worked, but she couldn’t form words. It shouldn’t be possible for a demon to know or say such words.

“What is wrong, Sister? Who is this?” Maggie asked.

“Where is my shepherd? Where is Timothy?” The demon took a step closer.

“L…lies,” Tera said. “You couldn’t…I don’t know where Timothy is.” Tera took a breath and thrust her rosary at the creature. “Demon, you did this!”

All the petitioners’ eyes locked on the fox.

The demon’s mouth twisted.

“Sister?” an old man asked.

“She is a demon!” Tera said. “She is the cause of this sickness.”

“Idiot. I would do no such thing even if I could.” The vixen backed away.

“We will get the demon for you, Sister,” a man said.

Several people lunged at the demon. She danced and kicked at the grasping hands before racing away. The hood slipped from her head. White tufted ears that no human could own betrayed her true nature. Several people screamed.

One of the men lunged at the fox’s feet. True to her nature, the fox leaped free. She dashed down the cobblestones bordering the church grounds with people in pursuit. The creature lunged into an alley and out of Tera’s sight.

“S-Sister. Was that a demon?”

“Yes. And she is the reason why God punishes us. We must make her face divine justice.”

* * *

Kit tripped over refuse. She caught the brick wall and looked behind her. No one appeared. She gasped for air.
That didn’t go as I hoped. The fool nun still thinks me a demon.
Kit’s mouth twisted.
I was a fool to expect anything different, but I have to find him. If the nun didn’t have so many people around her, she would know how much of a demon I can be.

Kit replaced the hood, and her tail pressed against her skirt. If her tail was a tangled mess, Timothy wouldn’t hear the end of it! She trudged down the street, stepping around a pile of…something. Best not to look. She covered her nose.

“Where are you, Timmy?”

No one followed her. She stepped over a broken table. Smashed furniture littered the street. She considered all the places Timothy could have gone. She knew to her tail that he would still be in the city. She may have known him only a short time, but he was simple enough to understand. Although he did spring a surprise now and again. She pushed away the cloud of loneliness that whispered to her. Creaking and rasping of wood and metal touched her ears through her hood.

What if she didn’t find him?

“Not that I need him,” Kit said. “I did just fine on my own.”

But he was nice to have around. It was nice to know someone who didn’t see her as a trophy.
Someone who sees me for me.
She sighed. Her efforts to make him jealous really had gone too far.
As if I would want to be with a man that grabbed my tail like Trent did!

The thick, sweet, cloying scent of rotten onions smashed her nose. Kit clenched her jaw and swallowed. The creaking grew louder, and the scent grew stronger. Two men tugged a sagging two-wheeled cart. Filthy rags covered their noses and mouths, and their staring, tired eyes gazed ahead. Twisted bodies piled, limp. Men, women, and children stacked on each other like firewood.

Kit’s eyes watered, and she gagged.

The axle screeched. The men stopped at another refuse pile. They eased the cart to rest. The refuse turned out to be another body. One man took the feet, the other took the shoulders. They tossed the body onto the stack. In just a moment, the creaking resumed.

Kit turned to move away. A cold shiver ran through her.
What if Timothy was…?
She glanced at the cart.

He isn’t going to be there. He made a promise, after all.

But she had to be sure.

She forced herself nearer to the cart. The men ignored her. Their faces looked almost as dead as those in the cart. The rotten air threatened to overwhelm her. She breathed into the hem of her cloak. It didn’t help much at all. Flies buzzed despite the chill air. Kit glanced through the twisted, blackened faces.