Wolf’s Fox by Juniper Hart

11

Nicholas felt like he was a walking zombie. He couldn’t focus on his work or anything else that he was doing day to day. Calls from clients went ignored, his days spent searching through the woods and hidden areas he knew of for signs of Ruthie, but he suspected that she had vanished. Each day that passed put more distance between them, a fact he could feel in his bones.

She’ll be shifting again soon, he realized as the third week came without any indication of where she might have gone. She should be easier to find then, shouldn’t she?

He had no answer to his own question. Nicholas had never encountered anything like this before. The idea that he had lost Ruthie forever was unbearable.

“You look terrible.”

He spun around in his office chair to find his mother lounging in the doorway of his home office.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“What are you doing here, Mom?” he growled, even though he was slightly relieved to see her. They hadn’t talked since the morning he had asked her for her help in finding Ruthie, but despite their tumultuous relationship, Catherine was still his mother.

“I would grow old and die if I had to wait for you to apologize for the way you talked to me,” Catherine replied dryly. “So, I decided to be the bigger person.”

Nicholas rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his messy dark hair. “I wish you’d stop sneaking in here.”

“I’m not going to rehash the same conversation with you again. It’s getting tiresome after all these years.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. Now you’ve said your piece, and I have work to do.”

“Do you?” Catherine smiled thinly and nodded toward his open tabs. “Does your work have something to do with Minnesota geography?”

Hastily, Nicholas turned to close the screens, flushing as he did. “What do you want, Mom?”

“Can you join me for lunch?”

The offer took Nicholas aback, but a refusal sprang to his lips all the same. Yet before he could deny her request, she added, “I have some information about your white fox.”

Nicholas’ head jerked up, and he peered at his mother dubiously.

“Really?” he drawled, not believing her. “What kind of information?”

“You’ll just have to come home with me and see. I had the chef make your favorite—pork chops with cranberry pecan salad.”

The mere thought of the dish that had once been his comfort food made Nicholas’ mouth water slightly. He eyed her warily.

“I’m shocked you remember that,” he grumbled reluctantly.

“I’m still your mother, Nicholas, even if you’d sometimes rather forget that.”

More than sometimes, he thought but wisely kept his sentiments to himself.

“Fine,” he relented, rising. What else was he going to do at home but drive himself crazy, trying to find another place to search for Ruthie. He didn’t entirely believe that his mother knew anything about her whereabouts, but he could use the mental break. He certainly wasn’t getting anywhere like this.

“Wonderful!” Catherine sounded genuinely pleased and waited for him to grab his wallet and keys off the table. “I’ll drive.”

Nicholas again stifled an argument. He could always shift and run home if things got too intense at Catherine’s mansion.

It was surprisingly warm outside, the chill of winter almost forgotten when they stepped into the afternoon sunshine. Nicholas realized how the morning had escaped him.

“What do you know about Ruthie?” he demanded when they climbed into Catherine’s Mercedes and started out of the survey. His mother cast him a sidelong look, filled with reproval.

“You couldn’t even wait until we got home?” she asked without veiling her annoyance. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Has anything really changed in that time?” Nicholas asked dryly, raising a dark eyebrow. Catherine snorted but didn’t respond. “All right, Mom. I’m sorry. How are things?” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his tone.

“Why do I get the feeling that you don’t really care?”

Nicholas eyed her dubiously. If I didn’t know any better, I’d actually think she was hurt.

“Of course I care,” he grumbled begrudgingly. “How’s the Ministry?”

“It would be better if you made an appearance once in a while,” she replied. Nicholas groaned loudly.

“Is that why you’re dragging me to your house?”

Catherine’s mouth thinned into a line.

“Dragging you?” she echoed. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m asking you to have lunch with me.”

“It would be nice if for once you didn’t try to coerce me into joining the Ministry when we saw each other,” Nicholas shot back.

“Hm.”

He didn’t like the sound of her single syllable, but he dared not ask her to elaborate. He suddenly had the feeling that there were major strings attached to this meeting.

I guess I’ll find out soon enough, he thought grimly.

For the rest of the ride, mother and son were silent. Nicholas turned and stared out at the trees that were still leafless from the long winter. Her home was located on the outskirts of the Twin Cities’ metropolitan area. It was Nicholas’ personal belief that she didn’t want her minions to realize how freely she spent their money. Being tucked away, they would have no reason to see her ridiculous expenses. There was no need for the sports car and three-story mansion, not when Catherine lived alone, save for the army of domestic help she employed.

The twin fountains appeared before the whitewashed Victorian. Nicholas had always found the mermaid statues spitting water from their open mouths incredibly gaudy. He reasoned that it wasn’t his house, but it didn’t stop him from wincing every time his eyes rested on them.

A servant that Nicholas didn’t recognize hurried forward as Catherine pulled up in front of the front porch.

“Leave it, Sam,” Catherine said dismissively, waving her hand. He immediately stopped in his tracks. Nicholas exited the car and glanced at the man who remained in place as though he, too, was one of the statues.

“He’s new,” Nicholas commented, following her into the grandiose entranceway. Above him, a wrought iron chandelier dangled from the dome-shaped ceiling towering above the third floor. His eyes trailed toward the balconies on the second and third stories before lowering back toward his mother.

“He’s from the Duluth chapter,” Catherine explained. Again, Nicholas realized just how much the Ministry was growing.

“Don’t the parishioners resent having to do your bidding?” he asked, unable to stop himself. Catherine visibly tensed.

“Some are grateful to be part of something bigger than themselves, Nicholas,” she said sharply. “They’re happy to serve the Messenger of Bane.”

“Is that your title now?” Nicholas laughed mirthlessly. “I can’t even keep up anymore.”

“Show some respect,” Catherine barked. “I raised you better than to mock the beliefs of others.”

Nicholas stared at her, wondering if she were serious. “There’s no one around, Mom. You can drop the act.”

Catherine glowered at him, but before she could answer, Saul appeared in the hallway.

Ah. That makes sense. There’s an audience.

“Brother Nicholas!” Saul called in his silly way. “How great to see you!”

“Saul,” Nicholas sighed, realizing that he had been duped. He shook his head. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Saul is just leaving,” Catherine interjected, casting the slow-witted bear a quick look. Saul opened his mouth, but whatever he read in Catherine’s expression seemed to silence him. Instead, he nodded quickly and shuffled away without another word.

“What was he doing here?” Nicholas asked the question before he could consider it.

“You almost sound jealous, son,” Catherine purred, sashaying past him toward the dining room. “You’re my only child, dear. Don’t worry.”

Nicholas snorted and flopped down in a chair in the dining room. True to his mother’s word, the table was set for company, and the smell of his favorite meal met his nose.

“I think Saul could use a caring mother figure,” Nicholas replied. “If I had one, I would happily share.”

“Very amusing, Nicholas. You’re making me regret that I invited you over,” Catherine told him tersely. Nicholas caught the underlying anger in her tone, but it did little to make him feel contrition. After all that his mother had put him through over the years, it was difficult not to make her suffer on occasion as well.

“All right, Mother,” he sighed. “Let’s just have a nice lunch—whatever your ulterior motives might be.”

Catherine stared at him a moment longer, unspeaking. Nicholas busied himself with his napkin and pretended not to notice. He didn’t really believe that she had information about Ruthie, but he was there now and subjected to her reindeer games, whatever they were.

Catherine picked up a table bell and dangled it, causing a light tinkle to emanate through the dining room. A moment later, yet another unfamiliar servant appeared, dressed in a chef’s coat and carrying two silver trays.

Nicholas winced slightly, realizing that the trays were made of real silver.

“Mom,” he groaned. “What is this?”

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, Nicholas. You must learn to embrace your weaknesses to make you stronger.”

She’s starting to believe her own rhetoric, he thought, grimacing. He pushed the tray away and glowered at the chef.

“Get this out of here and put it on a proper plate,” he snarled. The chef eyed Catherine, who sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Indulge him, Brother Arthur. He is too far removed from his powerful roots to overcome a slight discomfort.”

Arthur took the platter and ducked back into the kitchen. Nicholas considered leaving. Things were only bound to get worse from here.

“Before you make an excuse to slip out of here, why don’t you listen to what I have to say,” Catherine interjected. Nicholas pursed his lips together and peered at her.

“About Ruthie?”

“Of course. Isn’t that what I told you?”

“You tell me lots of things, Mom.”

“What if I told you I found her?”

Nicholas felt the blood drain out of his cheeks. He pressed his massive chest against the antique dining room table and stared at his mother, deadpan.

“Is this a joke?” he growled. “Because I’m really not in the mood to be trifled with.”

“Like that’s ever a mood of yours,” Catherine remarked.

“Where is she? Is she all right? How did you find her?”

Catherine held up a hand. “She’s fine, and how I found her is irrelevant.”

Nicholas’ eyes narrowed into slits.

“Are you sure she’s okay?” he demanded. “Where is she?”

“If I turn her over to you, what will you do with her?”

Nicholas scoffed, and Arthur returned from the kitchen, placing a fresh plate in front of him. Nicholas barely noticed.

“What the hell kind of question is that? What do you mean, what am I going to do with her?”

“It seems to me that she was trying to escape you,” Catherine said, settling back in her chair like she was a queen addressing the peasants. “Why would I turn her over to you?”

Nicholas swallowed his indignation.

“She has the wrong idea about me,” he growled. “She thinks I’m mixed up with your Ministry.”

Catherine raised her brow questioningly. “What does she know about the Ministry?”

“Enough to know that the dragon who held her hostage for years was a Baneist. She’s terrified of everything you do.”

“Hostage?”

Nicholas gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to give her any more information than necessary, but if she really did know where to find Ruthie, he wasn’t going to get away with half answers.

“She was promised to him—or kidnapped, I’m not sure. That’s the dragon I was asking you about, Luthor.”

“Right…” Catherine looked down at her lap and smoothed out her own napkin.

“She escaped over fifty years ago, but she worries that he’s still looking for her.”

“How did she manage to stay hidden for so long?”

A fission of alarm shot through Nicholas, although he couldn’t be sure why. The conversation was very nonchalant, casual, yet Catherine’s queries seemed pointed somehow.

“I really don’t know the details,” he replied slowly. “All I know is that she is probably in danger, and I want to help her.”

“So, you’ll what? Keep her protected?”

Nicholas scowled. “You don’t have to sound so mocking about it. Why not?” he snapped. Catherine blinked in surprise.

“I’m not questioning your ability to do it, Nicholas. I’m merely asking your intentions.”

“Why do you care, Mom?” he asked suspiciously. Her need to control was maddening.

“I told you—I went through the trouble to find her, but I’m not just going to drop a coveted white fox into the arms of just anyone.”

“Just anyone? I’m your son, remember?”

Catherine leaned across the table and grinned wickedly.

“My unmarried, unbound son,” she reminded him. “I would like grandchildren to carry along our bloodline, Nickie.”

His neck stiffened, and he gawked at her nakedly.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” he asked, even though he suspected he already knew.

“I’m just saying…” Catherine replied demurely. “Imagine what a child born from a white fox could do.”

Nicholas eyed her with disgust.

“Mother,” he growled. “Where is she?”

Catherine sat back again and made a steeple of her hands.

“I’ll tell you if you promise to mate with her,” she said bluntly. He opened his mouth to yell at her, to ask her if she was crazy, but before he could, he read the deadly serious expression in her face.

She’s not kidding. She won’t tell me where to find Ruthie unless I agree to this.

Lying was not in his character, but Nicholas saw little other option in this case. If he wanted to see Ruthie again, he had to give his mother the assurances she wanted, even if they made him sick to his stomach.

“Well?” Catherine pushed. “I don’t think I’m asking for much.”

I wonder if she was always this twisted or if this is Bane’s doing, Nicholas thought miserably.

“All right, Mom,” he breathed, unable to meet her eyes. “I’ll mate with her.”

“Are you sure, Nicholas? I expect you to adhere to your vows.”

“I said I would!” he roared, flushing with humiliation and fury. Catherine smiled thinly.

“Good. Then let’s go. She’s upstairs.”

With that, Catherine rose and sauntered out of the dining room, leaving Nicholas to rush after her.