Vixen Hunted (11 page)

"I haven't found
anything worthwhile yet." Timothy closed the book. It wasn't a lie. The
book could just be boasting. He doubted that, but it was possible. Besides,
there might be more information in another book.

Kit held him with her
green eyes.

"We are going to
have to see her, you know."

Timothy blinked.
"What? Who?"

Kit pushed away from
the table. "If all you are going to do is mope, it will be today."
She rounded the table and grabbed his arm.

"Go where? Let
go."

"You said you
didn't find anything worthwhile. The books are not going anywhere. It is time
for a break." Kit tugged Timothy and the chair teetered.

He shrugged her off.
"Fine. A short break. Just a minute." He folded the yellowed note and
tucked it into his shirt.

Kit snagged his shirt.
"Don't make me…" She tugged. Timothy flailed, trying to keep the
chair from upending.

"All right. All
right!"

Timothy allowed Kit to
drag him out of the library and the comforting, musty smell of childhood. A few
sisters bobbed their heads and smiled as they passed, many of them probably
remembering Timothy's antics as a child. Sister Grace often took the brunt of
his pranks. She looked more dignified now, age giving her a web of laugh lines.
He once liked to sketch Sister Rae. Her plumpness belied her rail-thin younger
days.

Sister Tera brushed
past Kit and Timothy and spoke to Sister Grace. "We have another guest. Do
we have another men's room ready?"

"Goodness,"
Sister Grace said. "Who would travel in this weather? Show me to him,
Sister Tera."

Kit pulled Timothy
around a corner, cutting off the voices.

"Just what are we
doing?" he asked.

"Visiting your
mother."

Timothy tried to plant
his heels, but Kit barreled him down the hall anyway. "Really, we don't
have to do this now." Timothy had to walk or fall and be dragged. He
walked, Kit's hand clamping his wrist. "Apple bread!" he said.
"Have you tried the apple bread? How about the wine? Sister Rae grows the
grapes herself."

"Today. You will
not keep your mother waiting," Kit said.

"Aunt Mae put you
up to this, didn't she?" Timothy asked. Kit ignored him. "She needs
to rest. Seeing me will be a shock. She…she is delicate. How do you know where
to go? She
did
put you up to this!"

"I used my fox
powers. What do you think? The abbess and I both know you need to see your mom.
Be grateful that you…"

A single polished door
stood at the end of the hall. Kit stopped and touched the too clean, too
polished wood surface. Timothy yanked his hand away and rubbed his wrist. The
girl was a lot stronger than she looked.

"It is like a
mirror!" Kit said.

Timothy shrugged.
Evelyn was…particular about cleaning. He had a hard time thinking of Evelyn as
his mother. Aunt Mae and the sisters were his real mothers. Evelyn sometimes
sat and played with him, but Timothy could not recall anytime she had left her
room.

Kit knocked. The
mirror-like door opened a crack to reveal a single hazel eye. Kit pushed
Timothy forward. "Someone is here to see you."

Timothy hesitated. Kit
growled, and her foot spiked into his shin.

"Hello…mom."

The eye blinked.
"Be sure to take off your shoes, Timmy." The eye disappeared as fast
as it had materialized.

Kit shoved Timothy
through the door.

The chamber gleamed.
The wan light coming from the rainy sky filtered through the spotless window
and bounced off every surface. Even the whitewashed walls held a polished glow.
A table with three plate sets dominated the room. The table, like everything in
the room, gleamed. The white tableware shamed snow. A blue vase of flowers
perched in the middle, not a single petal marring the table. The crisp bed in
the corner of the room looked like it was never slept in, the floral blankets
without a single crease. A bookcase, its surface gleaming like every other
surface, stood by a hearth that held a few pristine logs arranged just so.
Evelyn sorted the books by size and title. A large rug lay on the floor.

Time did not touch the
room.

Evelyn regarded Timothy
with blurry eyes, a few fine lines webbing the corners of her eyes. Her simple
gray clothes hung from her, the skin on her hands cracked from constant
cleaning.

Kit's breath tickled
Timothy's ear. "She is much younger than I expected!"

"You did not take
your dirty shoes off!" Evelyn frowned. "What am I to do with a dirty
son?" She produced a rag and scrubbed the corner of the table. "Just
stand right there. We can't have you making a mess. Who is that you brought
with you?"

"My name is
Kit."

"You are just as
filthy as my son. No. You are worse. All girls are dirty things. No matter how
much we clean, we are still dirty. Yes."

"Mom, I came over
to visit for a bit before I leave again," Timothy said.

"If you were going
to visit, you should have cleaned yourself."

"I made him come,"
Kit said. She shifted her feet under the gaze of Evelyn's steady hazel eyes.
"I thought he should talk with you before we go."

"Go. Where are you
going? Where is there to go? There is only one place to go. We all go
there." Evelyn folded the rag and laid it on the table.

"He promised to
take me home." Kit's ears pushed against her scarf.

"Promise? Promise!
He made a promise to you. To take you home." Evelyn quivered. "He
will break that promise. We all break our promises, broken words. There is only
one place to go. Death. Dust. Dirt."

"Evelyn,"
Timothy said.

"Promise. He died.
We all die. Only dirt to go." Timothy's mother thrust a boney finger.
"You." She turned the finger on Kit. "And you."

She jabbed the finger
at one of the empty dinner placements. "And you. Why did you? You
promised! Just words. You left me alone. Words. My son will also leave you,
child. He cannot but break his promises. Only promising to die is true. He
promised to always stay with me. Words, empty. Dust."

"Evelyn…Mom, I
didn't—"

"Sinful boy. We
are all dirt. Made from dirt, we return to dirt. Dirt is death. Dirt is a
broken promise! Lowered into dirt forever. Why did you promise!" Evelyn
shouted at the empty chair. "He left me. My boy left me. I am alone."

"I am here,
Mom."

"Who are you to
me? To break word like he did. Always. Only death is always. He left me! You
left me! You take him from me!" Evelyn clawed Kit's hair.

Kit's eyes saucered as
she pulled back from the woman. Evelyn's fingers caught the headscarf's knot.

The scarf fluttered to
the floor.

Evelyn stiffened, her
gaze on Kit's ears. The woman shrieked. Kit's ears clamped to her head.

"Demon!"

Evelyn scrambled toward
the crisp bed. She huddled in the corner between the wall and the bed, her hand
wiping at the air between them as if to clean what her eyes beheld.

Timothy bent to
retrieve the headscarf and handed it to Kit. "This is why I didn't want to
see her."

Kit grimaced and tied
her scarf. "Let's just go."

Timothy closed the
door. He wanted to slam it.

"I…I'm sorry I made
you go see her. I didn't know." Kit finished knotting the scarf.

Aunt Mae rounded the
turn at the far end of the hall. "I am afraid she has demons only she and
God can face together. I haven't heard her like that since the night we found
her outside. I had hoped a visit would help her state." Aunt Mae shook her
head. "I am truly sorry, Timothy. Had I known, I would have spared you.
She has spoken only of you these last several months."

"She was always
like that?" Kit asked.

"Evelyn was never
in her right mind, deary. Well, she has lucid moments. Some days she is even
somewhat normal. Ever since Sister Marge left for heaven, Evelyn has been like
this. They were close, as close as Evelyn can be with anyone." Aunt Mae
looked at the polished door. "God works in mysterious ways. We cannot see
His purpose sometimes. Those lucid days give me hope. I'm sorry, deary."

She wrapped Timothy and
Kit in a warm, motherly hug. "You did turn out to be a fine man. I never
thought I would have a son, but you are that to me, Timothy. You are a blessing
God decided to trust me with. You are a good man." She cast a look at the
door. "Who keeps his promises."

Timothy felt a single
hot tear slide down his cheek.

"Too good a man,
if you ask me." Kit punched his arm. "It wouldn't hurt if you were a
little less calm all the time."

Timothy wiped the tear.
Evelyn wailed behind the door.

"I will tend to
her." Aunt Mae laid a hand on Timothy and Kit's shoulders. "There are
hot cinnamon rolls in the kitchen. You both deserve a good nap after all that
too. Off with you now."

"Ooh. I've never
had cinnamon rolls. What are they? They sound good." Kit rubbed her hands
together.

As Aunt Mae entered the
chamber, Timothy glanced inside his mother's room. She still scrubbed at the
floor with her worn rag.

Not even time can touch
some things.

"Watch her
dress." The man's breath tickled Sister Tera's ear. Timothy and the
red-haired girl walked down the hall.

The scar on the man's
cheek pulled her gaze too much. Tera tore her eyes away and followed the man's
finger.

What was she thinking?
She was a nun. She felt the hard whitewashed stone beneath her fingers as she
leaned around the adjoining hall.

"I've never had
cinnamon rolls. What are they?" The redhead asked.

Timothy kept silent.

"No need to be
pouty, Timmy. You were not the one who had her hair pulled."

Tera glanced at the man
beside her. He nodded. She turned back to the hall.

The girl continued to
natter. Did her head scarf just move? "Hey. That smells nice. Is that the
cinnamon roll thingie?"

"Yes, it is a
sweet. One of my favorites actually," Timothy said.

Tera's breath caught.
The redhead's skirt flapped and revealed what looked to be a red tail tipped
with white.

"I like
sweets!" Yes, it was a tail!

"That doesn't
surprise me," Timothy said.

Tera turned, and the
man's small amulet caught the light. The sister knew what the symbol meant. A
cross flanked by a sword and a branch could only mean one thing: this man was a
member of the Holy Inquisition.

"It is as you
said," she whispered. "I saw a tail. It was red and had white on its
tip."

"She is the demon
I hunt. I need your help, sister. I do not want violence to come to this house
of God."

"I will do
whatever I can to help you, Inquisitor Tahd." Sister Tera swallowed her
excitement, her voice quivering with it. A young nun in a faraway abbey
actually doing something vital for the Church! She wondered if she was going to
wake up to find this a dream.

"What do you want
me to do?"

"Watch. We have to
let the prey think itself safe," the Inquisitor said.

"I won't let this
demon corrupt the abbey. Everyone needs to know!" Tera shifted to stalk
away.

Tahd's hand clamped her
shoulder. His smile lacked mirth. "A good sentiment, but letting everyone
know will chase off the demon. Do you want it to corrupt a village? Your
sisters are safe. There is no place better to stop a demon."

"I hadn't
thought…Oh, I'm sorry. You must be tired after such a long journey. Let me show
you to your room." Tera led the man away, struggling to walk with the
grace becoming of a nun. She wanted to jump and sing. To think, she found the
purpose she dreamed about in this out-of-the-way abbey.

Nothing ever happened
here, outside of farmers taking shelter after a storm last summer. Tera
supposed most abbeys were boring, but a nun could still do more than a wife. If
she didn't leave her home, she would likely live in a hut with a baby on her
hip by now. What could be more important than stopping a demon from threatening
people? The memory of that tail sent chills through her. Only demons had tails.
God granted prayers in odd ways. The rough man behind her had to be a gift from
heaven itself.