Vulpine Summer

Esme stirred. For the last few days, her body had awoken to the hard bed of her cell. It was thin with springs that poked through the fraying fabric, poking into her back uncomfortable. The blanket she used to stave off the cold of the stone surrounding her was scratchy and stank of must. So when she felt a soft, clean blanket surrounding her and the swell of a supple mattress swallowing her, she was confused.

She fought out of the remaining sleep, forcing her eyes open and stirring. The drab, grey concrete ceiling was gone, replaced by wood with a small light dangling from it.

Very suddenly, it hit her. This wasn’t her cell. She wasn’t imprisoned anymore.

Panicking as her memories stirred, pummelling into her mind’s eye the murder she had committed, her guilt growing like a ravenous beast, she sat up sharply. Her wild eyes shifted about the room, noting the boxes haphazardly piled in the corner and how little furniture there was, until she found Fox, slouched in his chair and watching her a fiery gaze.

Her heart fluttered and her emotions began to tumble over one another, vying to be felt all at once. Anger, guilts, confusion, panic, joy; she felt sick from it all. It had been so long since she’d seen him, so long she had long assumed he’d left to return home. She’d given up hope she’d ever feel his intense gaze again or lay eyes on the features she loved so much about him. But she felt she deserved it. She’d killed her aunt so coldly and cruelly; why did she deserve to see the man she loved? She didn’t. She never let Cassandra see Lithgow’s face one last time, why should she be allowed to see Fox? She tore her eyes away from Fox’s face and stared at her long, pale fingers. The guilt shifted into panic as she touched the blanket; reaffirming she wasn’t where she belonged. Then she recalled the moment Fox came to her, his features dark and determined and telling her he was going to get her out. She hadn’t wanted that, despite the joy at hearing it. And he’d somehow succeeded.

‘Fox?’ She manged to stammer out as her stomach twisted painfully. ‘Fox, where am I?’

‘Safe.’ He said. She squeezed her eyes shut at hearing his voice. It had been so long since she heard him, she had forgotten how his strong voice made her quiver slightly.

‘Fox, I need to go back. I told you, I deserve the death-sentence they have given me. I have to go back.’ She said, pulling the cover away to get out of bed, desperate to hand herself back over to the Tower.

Fox however was swift. In took a couple of strides across the room and his hands arrested her shoulders, holding her firmly in place as his gaze locked with hers. She felt her face warming up, turning pink at the intensity of his eyes. Fire and stubbornness flickered there with passion mingling. A strong desire to fight for her burned in him, it was obvious, and it made her heart hammer loudly in her chest. She tried to look away and her hands gasped at his chest, trying to push him away, but he was immovable and feeling his body, warm and firm, beneath her palms just turned her to jelly. He kept her still, not letting her move and holding her face when she tried to turn away, so she squeezed her eyes shut, the only think she could think of to make him go away.

‘Esme, you did nothin’ wrong.’

Hearing him murmur her name made her face turn warmer. Joy fluttered; joy she felt ashamed for feeling. Cassandra’s pale face with her veins popping out and blood streaming from her red eyes flashed. She shouldn’t be happy. She didn’t deserve it.

‘Fox, I deceived you. I am sorry, I should never have got you involved, but I did kill my aunt!’ Esme babbled desperately.

‘How?’

Her eyes opened slightly, daring to look at Fox’s dark features. His mood was dropping, she realised. Anger was beginning to creep up on him.

‘H-how?’ She stammered and the memories bundled to her eyes, reminding how she had done it. ‘I poisoned her.’

‘How?’ He repeated.

‘I used my plague spirit.’

Something snapped in Fox. She could see it. Dark anger gathered there. The guilt shifted into shame. That was the expression he should be looking at her with. Anger. Hate. She didn’t deserve his worry and affection

‘What plague spirit?’

Esme was surprised by the question. ‘Th-the plague spirit I bonded with. I was eleven.’

Suddenly Fox let her go and stormed across the room, rummaging about the bag next to the chair he had been sitting on. To her surprise, he pulled out a Grimoire. Her Grimoire.

‘How did you get that?’

‘Lithgow did.’ He shoved it into Esme’s submissive hands. ‘Open it.’

Confused, Esme did so, asking the book to unlock itself. The book unfurled, showing its mostly empty pages.

‘Show me this spell you used.’

Esme, with tears beginning to prick in her eyes, held her hand over the Grimoire and called to the spell. The pages didn’t shift.

‘Well?’

Esme stared, confused for a moment, until a memory bloated up in her head. ‘This is a fake Grimoire.’ She muttered miserably, her heart tightening and fingers warming against the familiar pages even as she said it. Lies, a voice whispered. ‘I pretended to be terrible at magic. My real one is hidden back in Lakeside.’

‘No, no that’s just crap, Esme. That there is your real Grimoire.’ Fox snapped, jabbing a finger on the empty page. ‘You’re terrible with magic. A crap Wizard. I’ve seen you fail using the three spells in this book, and apparently they’re bloody simple!’

‘I was pretending-‘

‘No. You. Weren’t.’ Fox snarled. ‘If you were such a great Wizard, what kind of idiot would you be to just leave behind your actual Grimoire! That thing could’ve saved your arse alone. My help won’t have been needed.’

Esme stared at her open Grimoire. She kept replaying the events of her life and her atrocious murder in her head but the logic was off. Why did she think it was a smart idea to hide her true Grimoire and arm herself with only three feeble spells?

‘I wanted to get caught.’ Esme blurted out as she stared wildly at the empty pages.

‘Then you would’ve handed yourself over, not come and blackmail a poor thief and make him ferry you all the way to the Granite Tower.’ Fox said darkly. ‘And what about them Spirits who’ve helped you out? River Oak and Willow, Lake Tranquil, the Everwood Spirit and that huge-arse God. They all said you didn’t do it.’

Esme’s confusion grew. He was right. All the Spirits she’d encountered all wanted to help her and reveal the truth. But the truth was, she was the killer. But the Spirits would’ve known that, surely? And they wouldn’t lie either. They couldn’t. Nothing made sense. Everything contradicted itself and the horrific memories of her deed began to rush forward.

You did it, they said. Look what you did. Feel what you did. Feel that jealousy that drove you. Remember the moment you murdered your aunt.

Her head began to ache.

‘I did it.’ Esme stammered as tears swelled, dropping onto the empty pages of her Grimoire.

‘You didn’t. You don’t have the guts to. You wouldn’t even let me hurt Sodden, that creepy witch hunter.’

The memories pressed harder, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut in a wild attempt to block it out. The pain in her head pummelled harder.

‘But I remember. I remember doing it, Fox. I did it.’

‘You didn’t. A false truth is in your head, not a real one.’

She froze and stared up at him. His face warped by the tears of panic filling her eyes. ‘A false truth?’

Fox hunkered down and knitted his hands together. He stared at his knuckles; scuffed and dry. ‘When you came to me, you babbled about how Denver was goin’ to change your truth. She was goin’ to turn you into a fox and muddle your head up, put in a new truth. One that would make you the killer.’ He looked up at her, his face firm and his eyes filled with a gentility she had never seen before. ‘I didn’t believe you. Didn’t get why you were so scared of it, just annoyed at you for flying into my life and takin’ my prize. I get it now though.’

‘Get what?’ Esme stammered.

‘Why you were scared. You don’t see it. Your heads too scrambled, but I do. Before, you were strong and determined to get your truth out, despite no one believin’ you. You were goin’ to reach Lithgow and reveal Suellen Denver as the conniving, murderous bitch she is. Now, you’re just beggin’ to be hung. Wantin’ to die for somethin’ you never did. Just because your truth’s been changed. Seein’ that change for myself; its terrifyin’.’ His eyes shifted. They flashed vibrantly, steeling with anger and determination. ‘But you ain’t you right now, Esme Dupont. And I ain’t lettin’ you go kill yourself. I ain’t lettin’ you be beaten. I know your truth, Esme, and that crap you’re blurtin’ out ain’t it.’

Something inside Esme warmed. Just hearing those words of honesty and belief, seeing that strength on his face, was a comfort. But it didn’t stop those pressing memories. It didn’t stop the truth that she had murdered her aunt. And that truth, false or not, was all she could think about. It swallowed her whole, not allowing her to think too much into the logistics and contradictions. And seeing Fox’s determination to save her was just pouring fuel on her despair, twisting the knife of guilt. She had manipulated him, lied and blackmailed him. He shouldn’t care what would happen to her.

With tears of fear, panic, confusion and shame, she reached out and took Fox’s hand, wrapping her fingers around his. She always loved how his hands felt; strong, bony and large. Safe.

‘Fox-‘ She began but fell silent when the door opened, forcing Fox to take a hurried leap back and forcing their hands apart.

Standing there, looking worn out and a little dishevelled with Absolon whistling on his shoulder, was Lithgow. Esme’s heart tightened. Another person she had lied to and hurt.

Lithgow however was smiling brightly at the sight of her awake. ‘Esme. My dear Esme.’ He rushed forward and enveloped her tightly, bringing her into a warm embrace. ‘I’m so sorry, Esme. I’ve failed you over and over.’

Esme felt her eyes and throat burn and tried to push him away. ‘No, uncle. Do not apologise. Not for what I’ve done.’

Lithgow allowed himself to be pushed away, only to fixate her with a worried gaze. ‘Esme, listen to me.’ He said firmly as he sat beside her. ‘Suellen Denver has put a false truth in your head. None of what you believe is real.’

Esme frowned and turned her gaze to Absolon as he drifted into her lap. She embraced him, making him purr and giving herself a strong sense of comfort. ‘Fox told me, Lithgow, but…but it is real. I know it is. Please, don’t tell me otherwise. It makes my head hurt.’

‘Because two truths are vying for control.’ Lithgow said comfortingly. ‘Esme, right now you are ill and cursed. I can fix it but I need you to do something for me.’

She glanced up at him, noting how sad he looked. It made her chest hurt. ‘What is it?’

‘I want you to not trust yourself.’ He said firmly. ‘I know this is exactly the opposite of what your aunt taught you; she always wanted you to live for you, but I need you to ignore everything your gut is telling you right now.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it is a curse. The curse is dictating how you feel right now.’

‘Then what am I to trust?’

‘Myself and Fox.’

Esme’s gaze flickered to Fox. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded, as he watched intently. Her gut screamed at her that they were just filling her head with lies, that her truth was real and she had to be executed, but a little voice began to murmur in her head. A voice that said she trusted Fox, more than anything in the world. She trusted him more than herself.

‘You just need to do this until I can get you before a Spirit. If I can get a Spirit to clearly state your truth isn’t real, I can fix this whole mess.’ Lithgow pressed and placed his large hand on her head. ‘Can you do this for me?’

Esme’s gaze remained fixed on Fox. She couldn’t move her eyes away from him. Despite the agonising memories trying to push themselves to the forefront of her attention, she found it easier to ignore it when she was looking at him, like she was safe from the nightmare. Anchored and shielded.

‘Esme?’ Lithgow urged, almost pleadingly.

She glanced up at her uncle, her doleful eyes sorrowful. ‘You truly believe I never hurt aunt Cassandra? Despite me remembering doing so?’

‘Yes, Esme. I truly believe.’

She sucked in the musty air of the room and swallowed thickly. ‘Then it would be a disservice to you to tell you otherwise. I’ll trust you and Fox for now, uncle. Confirming my truth will help everyone accept it.’

Lithgow smiled, his relief clear as day. ‘Then I will work swiftly now, Esme. I will protect you from Denver and this curse.’ He kissed her forehead firmly before he leapt to his feet and rushed out, closing the door behind himself firmly.

Esme flinched at the sharp sound of the door. Despite the faith Lithgow had in her, she felt hollow inside. The moment he’d realised her truth was real, he’d no longer love her as his own child. The thought broke her heart.

‘Dupont.’

Esme glanced up sharply, tightening her grip on Absolon. Fox had returned to using her surname. It oddly cut deeper than she thought it would. She liked hearing him speak her name.

‘Yes, Fox?’

‘I’m goin’ to get you food. You stay here.’

‘You don’t trust me to not run away?’

Fox snorted and pushed himself from the wall. ‘You wouldn’t if you saw how insane you are right now. Stay put. Bull’ll make you somethin’ you like.’

Esme was surprised to hear that Bull was here but didn’t question it.

‘I’m not insane, Fox.’ Esme mumbled.

Fox nodded tightly. ‘Right. You’re cursed and your head’s jumbled. It’s different.’

She wanted to correct him again and tell him her head wasn’t jumbled either but refrained. She promised Lithgow she’d trust him and Fox over herself at the moment. Despite her conviction, she’d hold up her promise.

‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ Fox promised. ‘Okay?’

Esme stared at him in fright, her mouth pressed so tightly together that her lips turned white. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted Fox beside her. If she was alone, the fear and shame swallow her up whole, creating a void of panic and self-hate with her aunt betrayed cries echoing violently in her head. It was the void that had taken her sanity when she was locked up in the Tower, devouring her whole and chipping away at her will to live. The void that made her scream and howl in pain, alone in her cell.

Instead of telling Fox this however, she stiffly nodded her head. Fox hesitated, his eyes flashing over her face with concern, then slipped out, promising again he’d be back quickly.

The void began to grow almost instantly the paint-chipped door was closed. She felt her throat closing up as a scream began to scratch savagely, trying to get out. The memories pressed; her aunt’s agonised features being all she could see. The bloody foam, bulging veins and choking pleas. Hate, shame and fear; all of it burned in her chest in an ugly black void.

The growing beast in her head was pushed back abruptly when Absolon snuffled in her lap, settling himself down to sleep. She glanced down at him, taking comfort in the little Sprite that had been with her for so long. The yawning despair was held back enough that she could think coherently and push away to desperate desire to scream and never stop.

‘I hope they find this Spirit soon.’ Esme murmured weakly to herself.

Whatever would happen in the end, whether it was a real or fake truth, she just wanted it over with and the ghost of her aunt gone from her head. And if her peace and Cassandra’s justice was ultimately found through her death, then so be it.