Wolf’s Fox by Juniper Hart

7

The water crept into every crevice of Ruthie’s body. She barely remembered what it felt like to take such a leisurely soak. The baths she had taken in Luthor’s lair had not been like this, relaxing, warm, hypnotic. Under the watchful eye of Miss Whitaker, she had been forced to wash every detail of her body as the razor-eyed dragon governess studied her, preaching about cleanliness being a virtue.

“You must remain untouched, pure in every possible way,”she could hear her intoning. The mere echo of Miss Whitaker’s voice in her head made Ruthie reach for the glass of wine and chug it back. The woman’s nasal tone vanished as more ease seeped into Ruthie’s body.

The jets pulsated against her skin, kneading at muscles Ruthie hadn’t realized were pained until that moment. She dangled in the semi-conscious state between wakefulness and sleep, but she willed herself not to fall into the slumber that wanted so desperately to take her.

It will be dawn soon. I can’t sleep, or I’ll wake up in my fox body. The thought made her weary and upset. She was losing precious time with Nicholas, but the bath was just so entrancing. A few more minutes and I’ll go find him.

He had seemed like he wanted time to do something himself, anyway. She didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was up to.

But soon, the water began to cool, and a certain alertness sank back into her fuzzy psyche. She and Nicholas had much to discuss before the sun rose, like where she would go. A part of her hoped he would ask her to stay, but she knew that wasn’t fair to him.

I can’t live in a human house while I’m a wild animal, Ruthie thought, pursing her lips together. Nicholas has a life of his own, one that doesn’t include a white fox intruding on his privacy.

Despite all his kindness and reassurances, she could tell that maintaining a wild animal in his urban life would not work out under any circumstance.

Sighing, she unplugged the tub and rose, water droplets dripping along the floor as she reached for the fluffy terrycloth towel on the rack. Her toes curled into the plush bathmat and reached for the remaining sip of wine.

It was a pity. Ruthie could get used to a life like this, strange as it was.

Maybe he really will find a solution to this, she thought hopefully, taking down the last of the red liquid. She wasn’t drunk, but there was an unmistakable haze infiltrating her mind as she padded out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

Her clothes had disappeared, but she didn’t mind the towel. She would have no use for clothing in a short time, and her body was commanding Nicholas’ attention before that happened. Never had she ever felt so emboldened, so forward, but she had also never met anyone like Nicholas. It was as if she was suddenly learning about a part of her that she had known existed but hadn’t known where to find until those moments.

And I have Nicholas to thank for that.

She sauntered toward the bedroom door, determined to find him, and make Nicholas see her as a woman. As she passed by the dresser, she paused.

Pamphlets sat atop the sleek wood, between the bottles of cologne and aftershave, innocuously. Ruthie paused and stared at them, her brain straining to read the words splayed in black against a blood red background.

Is…B-Ba…ne…ism for you?

For a long moment, Ruthie stared at the wording, unmoving, not breathing. She swallowed thickly, telling herself that her reading comprehension was not good, that it had been too many years since she had the experience, but she recognized the symbol. All color escaped her face.

No. It can’t be. I haven’t fallen into another trap…have I?

“Are you done already?” Nicholas appeared in the doorway to the bedroom, and she gasped at his unexpected arrival.

“How was it? Can I get you another glass of wine? I didn’t have a chance to find you something to wear yet, but I’ll do that now.”

She raised her head and stared at him, not hearing any of the words coming out of his mouth. She extended a finger and pointed at the pages on his dresser.

“What is that?” she asked, her voice a dry whisper. “Why do you have those?”

Nicholas frowned and peered where she looked. His brow furrowed.

“Oh,” he grunted. “Those are from my mother’s Ministry. I must have picked them up while I was there.” He grinned sheepishly. “Actually, I only went there looking for you,” he added. “That was a funny story.”

There was nothing funny about anything to Ruthie in that moment.

“Your family are followers of Baneism?”

Nicholas made another noise and exhaled loudly. He purposely avoided her eyes.

“Yes and no,” he replied evasively.

“What does that mean?” she whispered. “Are you, or aren’t you?”

He hesitated before answering. “My father was Bane Konrad,” he admitted. “He started the cult. My mother, and Bane’s other wives, kind of branched off and started doing their own things in different places. They call it a movement now, and so I suppose my family is kind of eternally tied to it. So, yes and no.”

Ruthie reeled back as if she’d been struck. She blinked, willing the entire scene to vanish from her eyes.

This is a bad dream, a nightmare. In a moment, I’ll wake in the cave and be back in my fox body.

But no matter how hard she pinched herself, she would not wake.

“Y-you’re the son of Bane Konrad?” she breathed, horrified.

Nicholas eyed her in confusion. “You know about Bane Konrad and Baneism?” he asked slowly as if he suddenly realized how strange that might be for a woman in her position. “How?”

“Are you really the son of Bane Konrad?” she demanded again, her voice hard and firm.

“Yes, but I don’t really have anything to do with them. Ruthie, are you okay?”

He stepped forward, but Ruthie backed off further, extending her arms as if to ward him off.

“Stay back!” she yelled, horror overtaking her. “You tricked me!”

“What? What are you talking about?” he demanded, but he stopped where he was. This time, it looked like he was the one who had been slapped. “I didn’t trick you. What is this about?”

“You know! You’re going to take me back to Luthor!” she wailed, her gut wrenching in dismay. She couldn’t believe she had fallen for his charms, his good looks, his words. She didn’t understand why he had gone through all the trouble of luring her there. Perhaps he was waiting on Luthor to come and get her.

“I really don’t understand what’s going on,” Nicholas said, inching toward her with outstretched hands.

“Don’t touch me!” she screamed, jumping up on the bed and maneuvering herself out of his reach. The dumbfounded look on his face only fueled her anger.

“Ruthie, come down here and talk to me. I don’t understand why you’re so upset!”

“You know…” Ruthie breathed, sliding off the far side of the bed. “You’re just like him.”

She turned to flee, but Nicholas reacted with lightning-fast reflexes, cutting her off at the doorway again.

“Are you kidding me right now? I brought you to my home. I fed you and treated you nicely. How dare you compare me to a guy who held you prisoner for years?”

Balking, Ruthie fell back, even though he didn’t try to touch her again.

“You’re holding me hostage right now, aren’t you?” she fired back. Nicholas’ mouth dropped open, and he paled so much that his skin looked white in the darkness.

“I am not holding you hostage,” he growled, but he made no move to let her pass. “But I deserve an explanation as to why you’re acting like this.”

Ruthie struggled to compose herself, her breaths escaping in short, uneven rasps.

“Just tell me, and I’ll let you go if that’s what you want,” he insisted. “Ruthie, I’m still the same guy I was an hour ago. I’ve just spent the past half hour looking into Luthor. You can come and check my search history if you want.”

She stared at him dubiously, not understanding what he was offering. All she could think of was escaping, one way or another.

“You’re a Baneist.” She said it flatly and without feeling. “Just like Luthor.”

Shock colored Nicholas’ face, confusing Ruthie further.

“Luthor was a Baneist?” he echoed. “Are you sure?”

Even as he asked the question, Ruthie could hear the weakness in his words.

“Of course I’m sure,” she spat back. “How else would I know what it is?”

Nicholas shook his head. “I don’t have anything to do with them,” he told her pleadingly.

“You’re the son of Bane!”

“That’s not my choice,” he growled. “I can’t choose my parents any more than you can pick yours.”

He stared at her imploringly, but Ruthie wasn’t listening. She saw an opening and intended to seize it before he could stop her.

“Ruthie, please. If I were really working for Luthor, would I leave pamphlets for you to see?” he demanded. “That would be pretty stupid.”

“Maybe you and Luthor just think I am,” she fired back. She didn’t allow him an opportunity to defend himself. The opening below his arm was wide, and she rushed through it, ignoring his pleas. He didn’t try to snatch her back, but Ruthie didn’t want to give him a second to recover from her abrupt escape.

“Come back!” he yelled after her. “Ruthie, just give me a minute to understand what’s going on!”

She didn’t slow her gait. In seconds, she had torn down the stairs, rushing toward the front door. She struggled to open it, realizing that it was locked. Desperately, she looked over her shoulder. Nicholas had started down the steps, his face shadowed, but he sat at the landing between the second and first floor, shaking his head. He didn’t run after her as she fumbled with the locks, her head darting around like a caged animal.

Why isn’t he coming after me? Is Luthor waiting outside?

Although more panic overcame her, that didn’t stop her from attacking the locks, her fingers sweating.

“Ruthie…”

She finally managed to get the door open, and she rushed out the same way she had come in. The house was no longer a warm, welcoming place but a trigger for her worst memories. At least there was no one outside as far as she could see.

Her legs pounded against the pavement, and it was only when the towel slipped away from her body that she realized she was naked in a suburban sprawl without any of her winter clothes.

She had no idea where she was or how to get back to the cave where she had spent so many of her full moon nights. It didn’t matter. Nicholas would know where to look for her now. She would have to find another place to hide out on those nights. She was also going to need some more outerwear.

Once again, Ruthie had to start from scratch, alone and running for her life.

She wondered if she would ever be safe again.

Her body began to morph as she sprinted into the night, her white fur overcoming her entire body. She was a fox again and undetectable—at least for another month. By then, she intended to be long gone. It was time to leave for good.