Vulpine Summer

Esme was quite content, listening to the world drift in from the large windows and feeling the breeze brush over her face. She felt relaxed for the first time in weeks. She was safe and with her uncle and, while she was separated from Fox for the time being, she intended to return to Lakeside, buy a home and find him again.

But Esme’s contentedness was disturbed when something rattled across the floor. She snapped open her eyes and sat up. A bowl was rolling across the floor, tossing fruit aside in its path.

Esme furrowed her brow and stood, hurrying to snatch up the rolling apples and oranges, until Absolon whistled in warning. He had attached himself to her head and rumbled angrily.

‘Absolon?’ Esme called out curiously and glanced about the room.

Nothing was out of the ordinary, apart from the rolling fruit.

‘Absolon, no one can get up here. We are high up and you have to have access to get through the doors both with standard and magical keys.’ Esme told him, but partly to reassure herself.

Surely she was safe all the way up here?

‘You can pass it if you have acceptance from the Council, however.’

Esme stiffened. She recognised that voice. It was one she had heard and trusted once. One that often brought her happiness. Now all she felt was dread and fear.

Esme stood up sharply, snatching at the lamp beside her and tossing the fruit aside. It bounced around, bruising itself badly, before it came to a stop by a pointed shoe.

Suellen Denver stood by the balcony door. She was dressed as flamboyantly as always; red dress, hair and make up perfectly done. Her long red nails shone brightly as she moved the cigarette to her mouth and inhaled.

‘How did you get up here?’ Esme demanded, waving the heavy-set lamp threateningly.

‘I told you, Esme. I was allowed up. The Council gave me all keys to enter the Granite Tower.’

‘But the Council doesn’t have the right to!’ She snapped, a mix of outrage and fear staining her tone. ‘This is my uncle’s home! He wouldn’t have let you inside it?’

Denver smiled softly. ‘No, he wouldn’t, he’s a stubborn old goat, but the Council did give me access. I’m not lying about that.’

‘How?’

Denver didn’t respond to the question and instead steered the subject away. ‘Now, Esme, you’ve caused me quite a few problems. I had hoped I could get this over with swiftly to not prolong your suffering, I do like you after all, but that was your own doing.’ She tutted. ‘Sodden! Come out now.’

Esme’s stomach dropped as Sodden suddenly became visible behind her, his blind eyes staring at nothing.

‘Sodden managed to follow you, despite you running circles around him and trying to shake him.’ Denver said with faint praise. ‘For a girl who is abysmal with magic and armed with only a thief, you did very well. It makes me wonder how you did it.’ Her eyes grew hard. ‘Summoning Spirits, having such a loyal Sprite. It makes me wonder. Do you have whistles on you?’

Instinctively, Esme’s hand snatched to her throat to the whistles dangling there. Her eyes burned with hate and rage.

‘You’re not getting them.’

Denver laughed lightly. ‘So you do! Sodden was right after all.’ She held out her hand, turning her soft palm upwards. ‘Now, hand them over. I want to look at them.’

Esme shrunk away as fear began to nibble at her heels. She wished Lithgow would come through that door to see the danger she was in, but he didn’t. She wished Fox was by her side, coming up with a plan and ready to protect her, but he wasn’t. She was on her own and the whistle of a god was going to wind up in Suellen Denver’s hands.

Esme thought fast. She tried to think of ways to escape but she didn’t have the upper hand of surprise this time and she was severally outnumbered. For her, there was no way out. She was trapped. But her whistles could still have a chance.

Esme snatched at Absolon, ripped her whistles off and shoved them into his stomach.

‘Get away Absolon!’ She demanded as Denver realised what was happening and storming forward.

Absolon only hesitated one second before he registered the desperation in her eyes. He whistled sadly then vanished, taking the whistles with him.

Denver snatched at Esme’s wrists and gave out a frustrated cry. She scowled down at her and Esme haughtily stared back, trying to control the fearful shaking she felt spreading through her like wildfire.

Abruptly, Denver smiled. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter. God or not on our side, we’ll have the Towers torn down.’

‘But why? Why are you destroying something you’ve followed your entire life?’

Denver didn’t responded and shoved her into the sofa. ‘Sodden.’

Sodden came over and his large, powerful hands grasped Esme’s shoulders, keeping her from standing. Still, she squirmed about, trying to wriggled free and run. She didn’t care where, just anywhere but here. But she couldn’t. All Esme could do was watch as Denver’s Grimoire fluttered open and settled in a single page.

Light began to seep out and a familiar tingle began to run up Esme’s spine. The tingle of magic, dangerous magic, being aimed at her. This wasn’t meant to be happening. She was meant to be safe with Lithgow and his Granite Tower. She was meant to be locking Denver up and revealing her murder of her aunt, shining truth within the lies.

But she was back at the beginning, only this time there was no getting out.

‘What are you going to do?’ Esme stammered as fearful tears began to spring up.

Denver just smiled as she finished summoning the spell. Light spilled towards her and struck her just like a warm caress. Esme froze and then squeezed her eyes shut, trying to resist the magic that began to possess her.

‘I won’t forget! I will not forget! You killed her! You killed my aunt!’ Esme screamed over and over, almost trying to convince herself she could resist what was going to happen.

Her body began to shift and pop unwillingly as she was forced into the shape of the fox, bringing up the sharp memory of her aunt, dying and gurgling bloody foam from her mouth, and the jump from the top of the Ivory Tower. But her focus and memory began to fade. Everything became large and scary and instinct began to drive her.

She wiggled and squirmed, her tiny fox body trying to writhe out of the grip of her attacker. It didn’t work. She snapped and yapped, attempting to nip at the grasping fingers, until a hand touched her forehead, burying into her fur. The fear and desire to find a hiding spot fled, replaced by serenity.

Something in her head shifted. Warmth and grasping hook began to rummage about, ripping and pushing. It hurt her, making her head ache, but her instincts were calm even as the pain got worse.

Esme didn’t know what happened next. She was sluggish and weary but she felt the magic seeping out of her like a flood. She vaguely heard Denver and Sodden talk and then she was alone, left collapsed on the sofa.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. She couldn’t think. Everything was a blur, her mind unable to grasp anything as the memories swirled about in her head. She only barely understood that the shadows were lengthening and the light turning more orange when someone entered the apartments.

She heard a voice, a kindly old woman, who gasped and rushed to her. Esme didn’t respond to her frantic question and couldn’t move when she tried to raise her head. Everything felt numb and her head still sloshed, unable to grasp anything at all.

But Esme had some clarity return to her when she recognised a face. The long greying beard, the neatly tied back hair; Lithgow. His mouth was moving and his expression pale with fear but she didn’t hear much. She buzzing around her ears.

When he touched her face, his hand glowing, clarity began to take her.

‘Esme!’ Lithgow shouted, shaking her lightly. ‘Esme, listen to me. Speak! What happened?’

Slowly she was beginning to remember things. Things that, in her gut, didn’t sit right but she recalled them with such clarity there was no way they couldn’t be true.

Shame and self-hate began to swell up fast. It swamped her whole as the memories took her, swarming about her eyes.

She remember how, all those weeks ago, she had summoned been overtaken with jealously. Oh how she had wanted to be just like her aunt; powerful, smart and beautiful. But Esme never measured up to her. No matter how much she tried, she could never wear clothes like Cassandra and her face could never be fixed with any kind of makeup. Her power would always pale in comparison to Cassandra’s thousands of spells and she would never even get close to becoming Grand Wizard. She had been swamped by jealous, such bitter and hateful jealousy, that she had summoned her best poison spell and murdered her aunt in a fit of madness.

Esme suddenly burst into tears that flooded from her eyes. She buried her face in shame and guilt, ripping at her hair and clawing at her eyes.

Lithgow arrested her wrists but she wouldn’t look at him. She couldn’t face him. How could she? She had lied to him about who killed his beloved. She had lied to him that she was innocent. She was a killer. A murder, manipulator and a liar.

‘Esme, what happened? What’s wrong?’ Lithgow begged her. ‘Talk to me, Esme. Tell me what’s wrong.’

‘I killed her!’ Esme shouted at him, barely able to speak as her voice cracked from sheer agony and her words swallowed by uncontrollable sobs. ‘I killed my aunt! I did it out of jealousy, Lithgow!’

‘No, you didn’t.’ Lithgow said firmly, gripping her face and forcing her to look at him.

‘I did. I remember it. I remember how jealous I was. I killed her.’ Esme rambled as tried to wriggle away.

Lithgow let her go, allowing her to collapse onto the sofa and curl into a ball, trying to make herself as small as possible to hide from the memories. They wouldn’t let her. They bore into her, showing her the expression of betrayal on her aunt and the twisted contortion of death; thick blood dripping from her eyes and mouth and black veins bulging out of her skin. Esme had done that to her; the woman who was like a second mother. The woman who had taught her everything and gave her everything.

She didn’t pay attention to what Lithgow was doing as he summoned a spell. Her tried to cast it on her but she never felt it. She vaguely heard him swear venomously.

‘Esme.’ He murmured as he pet her head gently. ‘Esme, I’ll fix this. I won’t let her get away with this.’

But Esme didn’t hear him. Only the screams of her aunt echoed in her ears and the memories blinded her, sending her tumbling down into an abyss.

Esme has done it. She had killed her aunt. Guilt and denial made her point the finger at Denver, fear of the noose made her run. But she had done it.

And there was no way Esme was going to let herself live with what she had done.