Wolf’s Fox by Juniper Hart

3

For the eighth day in a row, Nicholas returned home, exhausted and annoyed. He threw his wallet and keys onto the table next to the front door and grunted loudly. His eyes burned, but not as much as the frustration that grew inside him.

Today, however, he didn’t have time to dwell on the lost fox. He sensed he was not alone in the house he shared with no one.

“Hello?” he growled, ready to shift and attack anyone stupid enough to intrude. Almost instinctively, however, he knew who it was before she materialized.

“My word,” Catherine said, appearing in the hallway unexpectedly. “What happened?”

Nicholas’ scowl deepened to see his mother there, but his body relaxed, knowing that this was a threat that didn’t require a violent solution.

“How did you get in?” he demanded. “Didn’t I take your key from you?”

Catherine smiled patiently and strode forward to pat his cheek with an open hand. It felt more like a slap than a gesture of affection, and Nicholas drew back, annoyed that he had let her so close.

“I’m your mother, darling,” she purred. “I have every right to come and check up on my boy, key or no key.”

“One of your goons broke in for you, didn’t they?”

It was Catherine’s turn to frown.

“That’s not a very nice way to speak of your brothers,” she said coldly.

Nicholas snorted and shoved past her toward the kitchen.

“Those fanatics are not my brothers,” he corrected her for likely the thousandth time on the subject. “I don’t know how you tolerate them.”

“They are closer to you than your biological siblings,” Catherine countered, following after him, high heels clicking against the wood floors. “And they’ve done a lot for us and the Movement over the years—which is, again, more than I can say about your brothers and sister.”

Nicholas gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his chestnut mane, not wanting to delve into another argument with his mother over what she was doing with the aftermath of Baneism—the cult-like movement his father had started.

It was a bone of contention between them, and one that had no winners. In his current state, it was bound to put him in a worse place emotionally. The last thing he wanted to do was fight with Catherine, but her timing had always been improper.

“I can see you’re in a mood today,” Catherine continued. Nicholas pulled open the fridge and removed the Brita filter to pour himself a glass of water. “What has you so flustered?”

Nicholas chugged back half the glass back before raising his eyes to meet Catherine’s curious gaze.

“Nothing,” he lied. “I’m not flustered.”

The truth was, he had spent the last week returning to Fort Snelling State Park, hoping to catch a glimpse of the fox-turned-beauty he had encountered the night of the full moon. Not only had he searched the spot where he had seen her the night of the snowstorm, but he took new routes, shifting and running fully through to catch a whiff of her anywhere. But if she had returned, it was never at a time when Nicholas was there, and the result was proving daunting. The more time that passed, the more he began to think that maybe it hadn’t happened.

“Don’t lie to me, Nicholas,” Catherine said firmly. “I’m still your mother, no matter how many hundreds of years old you become.”

Nicholas grimaced.

“I’m only a hundred and twenty-two,” he reminded her irrelevantly. He knew that Catherine hadn’t forgotten how old he was any more than he had forsaken the understanding that he was eternally related to her.

“And I’ll be your mother when you’re three hundred and twenty-two,” she replied sweetly. “Come on, honey. Tell me what’s wrong. Maybe I can help.”

Nicholas eyed her warily. He loved his mother in all the ways a son should, but he wasn’t always sure he trusted her. There was a dark and sordid history associated with Catherine and all of his father’s wives. Nicholas found it difficult to forget, even if his siblings had long since let it go. He hardly considered his mother his confidant, but it wouldn’t hurt to pick her brain…would it?

He stared pensively at her, debating. Catherine grew annoyed with his prolonged silence.

“Fine. If you don’t want to talk to me, then maybe you can come by the Ministry and help me.”

“Ah.” Nicholas smirked, realizing that she had ulterior motives for appearing so suddenly.

I should have known better than to think she was here to see how I was doing.

“Ah, what?” Catherine barked back defensively, immediately sensing his skepticism. “I can’t ask you for help now?”

He swallowed a retort. Again, he understood the futility of arguing with her.

“What do you need, Mom?” he asked, stifling the sigh in his voice. “I have work to do.”

It was Catherine’s turn to make a reproving noise.

“If you’re going to make a big deal out of it, Nicholas…”

He sighed deeply.

“Mom…”

She beamed happily.

“We have a group coming in from Saint Paul tonight, and I need more seating.”

Nicholas cast her a scornful look.

“Where are you minions?” he demanded.

“They have other jobs, Nicholas.” She gave him a baleful look. “I’m only asking you to help me set up some chairs, not give a sermon.”

“That’s good, because I’m not standing up in front of those maniacs.”

“Yes, son, you’ve made that increasingly clear over the years. Your father would be so disappointed in all of you.” She gave him a reproachful look, and Nicholas smiled coldly.

“Well, I guess we’ll never know, will we?”

Catherine balked slightly and turned her head away. Like all shifters, she didn’t look a day over thirty, her aging ceased over a century earlier. Sometimes it was unnerving to Nicholas that he looked the same age as his own mother, but he knew that was just another one of those matters that only seemed to trouble him and no one else.

“Nevermind,” Catherine muttered, turning to leave. “I’ll do it myself.”

“I’m coming,” Nicholas grumbled. “Just let me get changed, and I’ll meet you at the car.”

Catherine whipped her head back around and gave her son a self-satisfied smile.

“Thank you, darling,” she cooed, but Nicholas could tell that she had known all along he would agree, even if he didn’t particularly care for her role in the Movement.

“Sure,” he grunted sarcastically. “What else do I have to do?”

* * *

Saul and Johnwere at the Ministry hall when Nicholas arrived, and he groaned loudly enough that his mother clearly heard his displeasure.

“What now, Nicholas?” she demanded impatiently.

“I thought you said that you didn’t have anyone to help you,” he muttered. He locked the Jeep and reluctantly trailed after his mother as she proudly led the way toward the interior of the building.

“I said I needed help,” she corrected him, sounding gleeful, as if she’d fooled him.

One day, I’m going to put her in her place, Nicholas promised himself, though he knew that wouldn’t be the day.

“Oh! Hey, Nick, hey!” Saul greeted him, a dopey, stupid grin on his face. “Are you here for the sermon?”

“It’s Nicholas,” he corrected the lanky shifter coldly. “And that would be a ‘hell no’.”

Saul’s smile faltered, and a pang of shame shifted through Nicholas. Before he could consider apologizing for his curtness, John stepped in.

“You fool!” he barked at Saul. “Everyone knows that Nicholas doesn’t like his name shortened. Have some respect for the son of Bane.”

“I’m sorry,” Saul mumbled, his face beet red. “I-I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” Nicholas sighed, wishing he hadn’t been such a jerk. His frustration had to do with his mother, much as the congregants annoyed him. “I’m just here to help set up. Where are the chairs and where are they going?”

“I’ll show you, Nicholas,” John offered, waving a hand for him to follow. Nicholas shot Saul a final glance over his shoulder, but the slow-minded bear was staring at the ground, muttering to himself.

“Don’t worry about Saul,” John offered, catching Nicholas’ stare. “He’s a little…off.”

Everyone in here is a little off, Nicholas almost replied, but he managed not to speak his mind. He just wanted to be in and gone before he attracted any more attention.

“You have a group from St. Paul in tonight?” he asked instead, shifting the conversation away.

“Yeah! It’s going to be epic,” John said enthusiastically, stopping at the back of the hall where a door to a storage closet rested open. Inside, piles of chairs sat, ready to be moved into the main room.

“The Movement’s growing then?”

Although it was a rhetorical question, John nodded again, smiling proudly.

“Your mom is a force of nature. She has plans to spread Baneism all over the country again.”

An inadvertent shudder passed down Nicholas’ spine, but he again swallowed his misgivings.

“That’s good.”

“You know, Nicholas, she talks about you a lot in the sermons. I think it would mean the world to her if you came, at least one Friday for worship.”

“Sorry. I’m way too busy with my company.” It was only half a lie. He was busy with his marketing business, but not so busy that he couldn’t get away. Still, it sounded better than, “I don’t want to”, and “screw Baneism”—both answers that were vying to spill out of his mouth.

It baffled Nicholas that after all the work the wives had done to remove themselves from Bane Konrad’s tyranny, his own mother would try to revive a movement named for him. But Nicholas had long ago stopped trying to figure out his mother and her actions. It was easier to simply separate himself than agonize over the actions of Catherine Konrad.

They entered a back storage room and John handed him a stack of chairs. Before he released them, John leaned in closely, as if to tell a secret.

“Between you and me, I heard a rumor that there might be a white fox coming in from St. Paul. A female.”

Nicholas felt all the blood drain out of his face. He gawked at John in disbelief as he sought signs of guile. All he saw was John’s almost palpable excitement.

“What?” he asked dumbly. John nodded and winked conspiratorially.

“I know, right?” he said. “How long has it been since you’ve seen one of those?”

Not as long as you think,Nicholas mused tersely but if John sensed his companion’s uneasiness, it didn’t stop him from rambling on.

“Imagine if you could mate with a white fox, Nicholas? Your child would be a god among us. I mean, maybe not as important as you, but you know what I mean.”

A cloud of confusion washed through him.

“What? Why?” Nicholas asked, feeling stupid. He knew very little about the history of white foxes. They were something of folklore, and if Nicholas had not seen the one in the woods, he would have walked away from the conversation with John already. They were the kinds of stories mothers told their little girls, like humans and their princesses in towers. However, the mention of one a week after seeing the beauty in the woods was too much to be a coincidence, wasn’t it? Nicholas knew he wouldn’t rest until he found out.

John’s smile faded slightly.

“Surely you know how rare they are, the female foxes,” he offered. Nicholas nodded, not mentioning that he had thought they were a myth. “If they breed with a shifter, their babies are born with incredible powers—or so the legend goes. I don’t know firsthand, but maybe I’ll live to find out yet.”

John’s grin widened again.

“I was just thinking that a son of Bane should be thinking about his bloodline very seriously.”

“You said she’ll be here tonight?” Nicholas asked, his heartbeat quickening. “You’re sure?”

“Now don’t go holding me to it,” John replied. “But that’s what I heard.”

Nicholas swallowed and turned away with the stack of chairs.

“So will you come tonight?” John called out after him. Nicholas didn’t respond because he didn’t hear the question. Blood was rushing in his ears.

* * *

Nicholas satin his Jeep for a long while, hands closing and opening around the steering wheel as he stared at the Ministry hall.

It had been many years since he had stepped inside during services, but the foul memory of the practices still weighed heavily on him.

I’m not going inside for the service. I’m going inside to see if she’s there.

But if she was, sitting among the parishioners, praying to his long-dead father, Nicholas wasn’t sure he wanted any part of that, either.

Of course, he wouldn’t know unless he went in.

In the end, he knew he had to see her again, even if she ended up being a Baneist fanatic. He hadn’t been able to forsake her since laying eyes upon her, and if he missed her now, he would never forgive himself.

Screw this. I’m going in.

He leapt from the vehicle and strode toward the front doors, his pulse roaring in his ears. He had no idea what he was going to say or do when he saw her there, but he hoped the words would come.

For all I know, the feeling will have passed when I see her again, he mused, pulling on the handle of the doors. He entered, ignoring the stares and whispers of the congregants when they recognized him. His eyes scanned the overflowing hall, also falling upon familiar faces from his past.

His mother sermonized at the pulpit, oblivious to her son’s arrival, and Nicholas was grateful for small favors. He was sure that if she saw him, Catherine would find some way to yank him onto the stage.

He stood at the back, his head looking over each and every head, carefully pausing to study every light-haired being in the crowd. Suddenly, two carbon blonde heads caught his attention, and Nicholas’ heart was in his throat. One was undoubtedly a man’s head, the close-cropped head of hair pouring into a pair of thick sideburns. The female beside him, however, fit the description of the one he sought. Before he could stop himself, Nicholas strode toward them, disregarding the fact that they were likely a couple. He was so close, he could practically touch her, and abruptly, he stopped before them.

The man looked up at him, confusion coloring his face, but Nicholas looked past him as the woman’s face lit up.

“Nicholas Konrad!” she choked, jumping up. “It’s really you!”

Dread and disappointment flooded Nicholas taking over the feral excitement that had encompassed him only seconds before. Abruptly, he spun around as whispers erupted around him.

“No,” he replied curtly, rushing toward the exit, realizing he’d made a huge mistake. He had no idea who that woman was, but it wasn’t the fox he sought.