Vixen Hunted (15 page)

"He is thick
skulled," Kit said.

"I said I would
take care of things, deary." The abbess handed Timothy a folded oiled
cloak.

"I…I'm sorry. I
thought for sure—"

"Different is not
demonic. Actions make angels and demons. I guess I didn't teach you as well as
I thought," Aunt Mae said.

"You taught him
too well," Kit said. "I cannot corrupt him."

Aunt Mae laughed.
"I wouldn't say that. I never thought he would find a girl. Be sure to
marry this one, Timothy. She will be good for you and you for her."

Even Kit looked
embarrassed.

"Best hurry. God
be with both of you. And you, little lamb." Aunt Mae scratched Cat's head.
"Don't worry. I will take care of the Inquisitor."

"Aunt Mae—"
Timothy said.

The abbess held up a
finger. "Mother Mae. I know the risks, but I can't have my son be caught
by those fools." She pulled Timothy into a one-armed hug. "Evelyn is
gone. Where, I don't know, but don't you worry. Get this girl home as you
promised."

The abbess released
Timothy and pulled Kit into a hug. "You chose a good man to help you. Just
be easy on him."

"I can't promise
that." Kit's voice quivered.

The nun laughed.
"No. I guess you can't." She squeezed and stepped back. "You two
have my blessing. Just marry first!" She smiled. "Now best be
off."

The nun waved once
before leaving. Timothy and Kit watched each other for a long moment.

"Best we move,
shepherd. Unless you plan on leering at me all night."

The oiled cloaks shed
the rain well. The trio trudged away from Timothy's home without anyone
noticing. They skirted around the grounds and headed east.

The room was empty. The
sisters assigned to watch the door were gone.

Tera shouted
wordlessly. Her feet thundered down the halls as she called for help. Where had
they gone? The stable. Where else to look? She ran outside and rain slapped her
face. The Inquisitor kneeled in the mud, a lantern resting at his feet. He wore
a strange smile and held a wisp of red hair, limp with the rain. He gazed upon
it with reverence.

"We are in luck,
sister. The hunt continues."

Chapter 9

"I thought you
liked baths?" Timothy shrugged his shoulders, his oiled cloak spraying the
rain. The deluge fell all through the night and the day. Timothy hoped that put
enough distance between them and the Inquisitor. He did not doubt Tahd would
come after them.

"I like baths,
shepherd. Not showers. My tail needs wringing again."

"Baa!" Cat
shook rain from her wool.

"Look there!"
Kit slapped Timothy's chest.

Mists swirled around a
small traveler's shelter. They needed rest.

"I hope your fox
luck is working."

"We got away
without any problems, didn't we? Come on." Kit opened the shelter's door.

Rain beat on the roof,
but the interior was dry. A small pile of split wood stood in the corner and a
square stone hearth sat in the middle of the packed dirt floor. A wooden rack
for drying clothes waited next to the door.

Cat speckled the dry
walls with rain. Timothy hung their cloaks and worked on the fire as Kit stripped
off her sodden clothes.

"Do you really
have to take them all off?" Timothy kept his eyes on his work. The rain
soaked even her shift. A glance told him that much. "What if someone else
comes?"

Kit's tail splattered
droplets across the walls. The lamb settled in close to the newborn fire and
worked on drying herself.

"You worry too
much. We are too far out in nowhere. Tahd doesn't know which way we went, and
you will sleep against the door." Kit wrung water from her tail. "My
beautiful tail! Look at it!"

The fire blazed well
enough. Timothy leaned against the door, trying not to look at the fox. The
small fire started its work on his own damp clothing.

"Your face is
flushed! You better not be getting sick on me." Kit laid a hand on his
forehead. Her shift clung. There was no doubt of her slim femininity.

"I'm fine."
Timothy pulled away.

Her grin revealed
fangs. "So that is how it is! Maybe I should let you look." She shook
more water from her tail. "Well, pity for you that my tail needs
attention."

Kit moved away and
plopped herself in the corner opposite Timothy. He shook his head, wiggled out
of his coat, and slung it on the rack. The rest of him would dry soon.

Kit brandished a brush.

"You stole that
brush, didn't you?"

"Giving me a brush
is the least they could do after calling me a demon."

"They were not too
far from the mark," Timothy said. He dodged a wet stocking. It smacked
against the door and slid a damp trail. Kit wore a crooked smirk.

"So, are you going
to tell me what you found? Or did I go through all that for nothing?"

"About what?"

"My home, mutton
head."

Should he tell her what
happened?

"Do you really
want to know?" Timothy rummaged around in his pack for a small pot and a
packet of Aunt Mae's stew mix.

"If I didn't want
to know, I wouldn't be asking. Stew?"

"Yep."
Timothy set the paper packet aside, cracked the door, and put the pot out into
the rain. "Aunt Mae liked to make these for travelers to take with
them." Timothy cast about for the right words. What words could rightly
tell someone everyone she knew was long dead?

Kit picked up the
packet with two fingers and sniffed it. "Dried stew. Again."

Cat bobbed her head
with curiosity.

"This is better, I
promise. We know the name.
Belafonte."

Kit frowned. "That
doesn't help me much."

"Kit, I…" He
looked into her eyes. "I need…" He sighed. He couldn't tell her. The
sodden paper mocked him from his pocket. How could he tell her everyone was
likely dead? "You don't remember anything—"

The other wet stocking
slapped his face.

"I said as much,
didn't I?"

Timothy wiped his face
with his sleeve. He pulled the pot from outside and hung it over the fire. He
had to tell her. He took a deep breath. "Kit, I—"

"So we are going
to eat that." Kit eyed the packet Timothy poured into the pot.

"Baa!"

"You can have some
too," Timothy told the lamb. "Kit, when I—"

"Do you know how
hard it is to get tangles out of a tail?" Her tail swished.

Timothy gave up. Words
failed him. He wished he could just blurt it out. "Your red hair is going
to be a problem." Stupid! Why couldn't he just say it? He feared her
reaction. Would she be angry? Would she cry? What would he do if she cried? He
sighed. There would be time later.

"Well, excuse me
for having beautiful fur. I am sure you like the old crones who are missing
teeth better."

"Sheesh. You get
grumpy when you are hungry."

Kit's stomach proved
Timothy's point.

"Red isn't exactly
a common color."

"I am not going to
shave my head for you!"

"You would look
weird with a bald head and those fluffy ears anyway. I mean we should consider
dyeing it. Temporarily, of course. At least until we are out of the range of
the Inquisition."

Her ears drooped and
Cat sniffed the boiling pot. Suddenly Kit's ears perked up. "Noblewomen
sometimes dye their hair red, right?"

"Yes…I
heard—"

She held up a finger.
"We can be nobles! That can be our story. We need a good story to tell
people."

"Do we? It isn't
their business."

"Forgotten the
trouble with your nuns already, hmm? A good story would have stopped
that."

"So would you not
taking bathes," Timothy said.

"Humph."

"I don't think we
exactly have the money or the clothes for that. I doubt I could pass as a
noble."

"But I could! You
can be my servant!"

"You are snotty
enough to be a noble. But I don't think it will work."

Kit's blouse flew at
him.

Timothy untangled
himself. "I was almost dry too."

"It can and will
work. At the least, I could pass as a wealthy merchant. People do not venture
into the affairs of nobles and the rich."

"Except other
nobles and rich people. And how are we going to pull that off with our little
bit of money?"

"We will just
avoid other nobles. Give me what money we have." She held out a hand.

"What! Why?"
The scent of stew made Timothy's stomach grumble.

"And you get slow
witted when you are hungry." Kit beckoned. "The stories about foxes
being lucky are true. At least, they seem to be most of the time for me."

"No!"

Kit pouted. "Well,
you best think on it. I don't need money to make money."

"Baa!"

"Yes. It's
ready." Timothy dug out the bowls and ladled the stew. Kit looked at it as
if it were a rotting head.

"It's good."
Timothy cooled a spoonful.

"Baa! Baa!"
Cat bleated at her bowl to try to cool it.

"You will see in
the next town. We will be able to live like nobles and ride east in a
carriage."

"I don't like the
sound of this."

Kit slurped her stew.
"It tastes like beef!"

"Aunt Mae knows
what she is doing."

"This way."

Tera opened the door to
the abbess's room, a pair of black-robed Jesuits flanking her. The middle-aged
woman sat at her desk with papers strewn over it. She sipped at her
ever-present teacup.

"Have you lost all
manners, sister? Hello, brothers. Care to join me for tea?"

"My name is Balwar
Tren," the younger Jesuit said. His brown hair made him look boyish.

"My name is
Guillermo Ruz," the older man inclined his bald head.

The abbess inclined her
head. "I would stand, but my bones dislike this time of year. What may I
do for you?"

"You summoned us
about a fox demon, Abbess?" Balwar asked.

Tera flinched at the
abbess's glare. "Actually, I didn't," the abbess said.

"I…I did. But we
had a fox demon! It gave me this!" Tera showed off the small half-healed
scar on her cheek.

The abbess sighed and
put down her teacup. "Deary, we talked about this before. You scared the
poor girl." She turned to the Jesuits. "I am sorry for this. She is
full of zeal, but it tends to make her think more of things than she should.
You see, we had a red-haired girl sheltering with us to escape the rain. You
know the stories about how fox demons have red hair."

"They are more than
stories, Abbess," Balwar said.

"Yes. Yes. Nobles
also are born with red hair and even dye it, if I recall correctly. It is
something of a style. But you are not here to discuss fashion. Our sister was
overcome with zeal and attacked the poor woman. She defended herself, as you
can see. Poor dear."

"I saw its ears
and tail! Tahd said I would." Tera slapped her hands against the fool
woman's desk. The abbess had lied to Inquisitors!

"You said
Tahd." The older Jesuit locked his dark eyes on Tera. "Do you speak
of Tahd Valador?"

"Y…yes. Brother
Tahd said he hunted this demon."

"Brother
Tahd"—the young Jesuit's voice dripped sarcasm—"is a heretic."

"H…he can't
be." Tera took an unconscious step back and bumped into the desk.

"He cares more
about his hunts than the work of the Church," Balwar said. "There
have been incidents when the man's…zeal for the hunt cost the lives of
innocents."

"N…no." Tera
felt her knees weaken. Tahd could not be a heretic. Tera trusted her eyes.
"I
know what I saw! It was a red-haired demon with a tail and ears."

"No one doubts
what you saw, deary. But sight often isn't reality." The abbess poured
herself more tea. "Are you sure you don't want any tea?"

Guillermo held up a
hand. "Where is this demon of yours? We need to speak with her."

"She left more
than a week ago." The abbess inhaled the tea's warmth. "She was on
her way home."

"And
Valador?" Balwar asked.

"I spoke with him.
He is a driven man, I guess you can say. Restless." The abbess held Tera's
eyes. Tera glared back. "I told him she went left, heading
northwest."

"You lie! How
could you! You saw the demon too!" Tera felt panic rising in her throat
and acid in her chest. Why did the abbess protect the demon!

"Deary, I only saw
a girl angry about our terrible hospitality."

Balwar held the
abbess's eyes for a moment. "She speaks truth."

"I am telling the
truth!" Tera shouted.

"Sister!" The
abbess rose to her feet. "That is enough. What has become of you? I am
sorry, brothers. This young one's zeal and desire to help build the Holy Body
gets the best of her."

"I…I am not…"
Tera felt herself deflate. "Get Sister Grace! She saw the same thing I
did! Or Abby and Nika. Rebecca!

"Deary, Sister
Grace has taken Sister Abby, Nika, and Rebecca to minister a village struck
with an illness. I don't suspect they will be back for several months. We will
talk about your behavior and proper penance."

Tera fell to her knees.
"I…I…"

"It doesn't
matter," Balwar said. Tera looked up at the dark Jesuit. "If we find
Valador, we will find the girl. Or rather, if we find the girl, we will find
Valador. In either case we will know the truth and bring a heretic to justice.
What direction did the girl travel?"

The abbess regarded the
men for a long moment. She drummed her fingers against her cheek.

"East."

"We will be going
east."

"The man rode
northwest," the abbess said.

"Valador will be
east. He has an almost supernatural ability to track his target. I just pray we
will find the girl before he does." The Jesuits turned to leave.