Vulpine Summer

Esme was in the spare room, gazing out at the fall sun with worry. It had been a long time since Fox left her to go scout; long enough that she had finished watching Cuckoo putting together his small wind-up clock and swept the downstairs. Now she was in the spare room, claiming tiredness, as the she felt the fox-curse stir with the setting sun.

She scrunched up her eyes as she watched the few people walking below and her gaze flickered over the winding roads and sloping rooftops. Heat-waves no longer warped the air above the tiles and cars and a cool wind was settling in as the windows of the houses and the lampposts burst into light one by one. But even as she observed every person, watched every nook and cranny, she still couldn't see Fox.

'Where is he Absolon?' Esme muttered to herself as the Sprite danced happily in the breeze outside.

She didn't want to admit she was concerned about him, not after how rude and un-likable he was, so she convinced herself it was simply worry that he had up and left her and fled the blackmail, not that she was troubled about his person at all.

She knew there were White Wizards out there. She'd seen one roam by the shop, forcing her to hide, but luckily he didn't come in. He passed without entering the clock shop. But what if Fox wasn't so lucky? He wasn't disguised and they were looking for men with red hair. Despite red hair being a common colour and he could probably slip through a crowed without raising any interest, it still concerned her.

As the worry started to churn in her stomach and making her a little sick, Esme slapped her face and rubbed her cheeks.

'Enough of that.' She said firmly.

Fretting wasn't going to help Fox right now. He would return, she was certain. Cuckoo was too. And Fox wouldn't leave her in the shop of a Fence of his guild. That would be stupid. So he was detained somehow and would return with that stupid smug expression before long. In the mean time, she could scrub up on her magic.

Esme turned and glanced at the tiny bed where their pack lay. She hadn't done any magic in a long time. Maybe a year. She gave up hope of ever being able to do anything decent with what little spells she had but, right now, her Grimoire was her only defence. She toyed with the whistle around her neck nervously before shuffling across the room.

She unclipped the bag and pulled out her Grimoire nervously. Holding it softly in her small hands, Esme stared at it. The bland cover was the same and, despite being dunked in water and shoved about, it was immaculate. It made her think of Cassandra's Grimoire. Was it safe? Were the spells being unwoven or were they being claimed by Suellen? The thought caused a stab of hot anger sear her chest. If Suellen touches Cassandra's dearest spells of gods and spirits after killing her so cruelly, it was just going to add salt to the betrayal. Suellen didn't deserve those spells. No one did.

Sucking in the stuffy room's air, Esme held one hand above the closed book. She had to practice. She had to become good enough at magic to survive the journey to Logan Lithgow. She had to bring her aunt justice.

Summoning what little power she had in her, she called to the first spell in her book; the light spell. Absolon drifted to the windowsill to watch and sang curiously as he felt what little power stir within her. The book at first didn't move but, slowly, it left the palm her her hand and began to float. It wrenched itself open and flicked through to the first page. She placed her fingers against the centre of the page and slowly the ward of intricate design, drawn by a twelve year old Esme painstakingly for six months, began to glow. It was a white light that slipped through every deep black line, lighting it up like a slow, lazy sunrise. When every stoke was alight, Esme called to the little dormant light Sprite within and pulled her fingers away. A light so thick it was almost water-like was pulled away with the motion. It stuck to Esme's fingers, dripping and stretching as she pulled it from the page until, finally, she had a glob of light in her hand no bigger than a golf-ball.

Esme stared at it. It was bright, almost as bright as a light-bulb. It brought a pure light to the room, chasing away the growing darkness of dusk. But Esme wasn't too happy with it. It was a big as she could remember and she felt remnants of the Sprite in the spell itself. She hadn't pulled it out entirely again, despite it being so feeble.

Esme shook the glowing ball away and tried again and again and still she could not manage it. The light Sprite just would not leave the ward fully. She could only pull out half at most.

'Why am I so bad?' She said as she frowned at the sad little ball of light.

'Because you have little willpower.' A voice came from the doorway.

Esme froze and didn't even look to see who it was. She knew. It was Cuckoo. She flushed in fear. She'd done something bad. Really bad. Fox was going to get very angry at her. He didn't want Cuckoo to know she was a Wizard and what he was helping her with.

She shut off the spell nervously as she turned around. Cuckoo stood at the door, smiling. There was no point hiding her Grimoire or lying. Esme knew it.

'My aunt told me that. Magic is made from the excess of the Ego.'

Cuckoo nodded. 'Most have only enough to create their soul; their morality, personality and identity. Some have an excess amount and that can be used to imprint their will onto Spirits and control them. But that is only for Wizardin' magic. Witches use the excess of Entity; the life force and immunity. They create bonds with Spirits, to combine their lives together. The Spirit then sees the Witch as an extension of themselves and will protect them but often means the Witch will also hurt alongside with Spirit and grow weaker and age when it dies. The Witch also does not have full control like the Wizards. The Spirit will do what it pleases and what it feels best, even if it is against the Witch's wishes.' Cuckoo grinned as Esme remained politely quiet. She knew all of this, that Wizards were about control while Witches were about freedom, even at the cost of lives. 'Magic is very fascinatin'. How long did you learn?'

'Since I moved to Lakeside when I was five. The Ivory Tower tried to teach me but clearly I do not have much Ego to spare. I only have four weak spells.'

'The Tower? You must have friends in high places to get accepted as a Wizard. You look to be a farmer's son at most so I thought you were an Occult.'

Esme blushed again. She was awful at this undercover thing. She had completely forgotten of the Tower's elitism. No one of lesser backgrounds were accepted into its ranks.

'My aunt was a Wizard. She took me in.' Esme stammered, trying to come up with something to cover the blunder. 'I was an urchin.'

'She didn't lavish you with much wealth?'

'She did but I just prefer these clothes.' Esme blurted out. She felt out of her depths. She needed fox here.

Cuckoo hummed and readjusted his glasses, making them glimmer in the dusklight. He wasn't swallowing a word she said. 'Well, if you say.'

'Where's Fox?' Esme asked quickly, trying to take the subject away from her constant screw up. So far she hadn't followed any of the rules Fox had put down.

'He's out scoutin'. Tryin' to find a good path to go down so you two don't get found.' He smiled at Esme's nervous expression. 'I'm not daft, little Wizard, nor am I blind. Fox is hidin' you and he wouldn't be so nervous if it was just from the police.' Esme shuffled and clutched her book to her chest as Absolon drifted to her, brushing her short blond hair with his wiggly arms. 'But I won't breathe a word. Fox has a keen sense of goodness within people. He wouldn't be helpin' you if he didn't think you were worth it.'

Esme felt a twist of guilt in her stomach. Fox wasn't helping her because he wanted to. He wanted his Eye back.

'Will he be back soon?'

'I imagine so. He's a good thief. He'll be back to us soon. Don't fret. No harm would've come to him.'

Esme blushed a little.

'I'm not worried about him, I'm worried he's abandoned me.' Esme thought hurriedly in her head, convincing herself she wasn't concerned about his well-being at all.

'Well I'll leave you for now. Have a good sleep.' Cuckoo said with a smile and shut the door quietly, leaving Esme blushing and fidgeting in the gathering darkness.

'I am not concerned.' She told herself again as she stepped towards the open window with Absolon clinging to her head lightly.

She glanced about the road. It was too dark to see but there was no movement. No one was there.

She sighed and waited. By the time the sun had sunk completely over the hillocks and rooftops, letting the moon and stars to take and the cool summer air was a light with birdsong and insects, Esme's body had been taken by the curse. She sat as a little vixen on windowsill with Absolon twirling about and singing merrily. Her eyes, now bright and golden, picked everything nearby. She could see clearly.

So when Fox came roaming up the road, she twitched in recognition and her heart skipped a beat. She lowered herself on the windowsill to get a good look at him. He wasn't lipping, there were no obvious wounds and she couldn't smell blood. He seemed well.

Esme sighed in relief and only managed to stop herself from marching downstairs and demanding where he had been all day when she remembered she couldn't open the bedroom door.

So Esme remained where she was, watching Fox turning the corner and listened to the door open below and Cuckoo's welcoming bellow, feeling a little too pleased Fox had come back to her.