The Fox and The Hunter

Viktorya stayed in bed for a minute. It was her day off, and she wanted to relish it.

“Please don’t be a vision where someone tries to kill me again.”

She rubbed her eyes. They felt real, but that didn’t really mean much did it?

She stared at the window, wondering if Johnathan Hunter was watching her right now. He seemed to make a point of looking away when she was changing yesterday morning, but she wasn’t exhibitionist enough to take advantage of it while she prepped.

“So dad,” she rehearsed as she brushed her teeth, “Remember that job you made me quit once you heard about it? Well, I did a job again.” she spat.

“It’s not my fault someone threatened your wellbeing,” she justified as she tied her hair in a bun then took her nightgown off.

“So I’m being stalked and/or protected by the guy I stabbed.” she pulled a comfortable shirt on. “No he isn’t a mage, I don’t think.” she put on the first pair of pants she found.

“But you know what he is?” she pulled the bun out, shaking out her curls. “Remember all those drawings Uncle Viktor burned just before mom left?”

She stared at herself in the mirror. John would connect the dots if she mentioned she was visiting her father. She told him someone threatened a loved one. Why had she told him?

“Because he’s pretty and when you were a teenager you thought you were going to be Mrs. Wall of Destiny.”

It was unfair that teenage romanticism dictated middle-aged communication.

“How old was he when I was a teenager?”

He looked as old as she did, but she looked just a bit younger than she was. Not to mention he worked for Gareth Shepherd, a very old mage, and he definitely had powers, so he could be older than he looked.

“What if he ages faster?”

That was a low possibility.

There was a way for her to check.

She looked at her hands, focusing on the times she touched Johnathan Hunter.

She didn’t see much of his history, but she could tell there was more than there should be for someone who looked that young.

“Older, I can live with older.”

She didn’t need to live with anything.

She waited on a bench just outside his hotel. After a minute, she saw him run out the door.

“You slept in,” she said.

She was slightly disappointed he was fully dressed, considering the concern in his pace.

“That wasn’t your work, was it?” he asked.

As she tried to parse out what she could do to make him sleep in, she shook her head. He sat beside her on the bench.

“You aren’t dressed for work,” he noted.

“I am not. I’m visiting my dad today, which I’d prefer to do alone.”

“Evergreen?” he asked.

She knew he’d investigated her. He wouldn’t have found her if he hadn’t, but that fact he knew about her father crashed her brain for a moment.

“Sorry,” he said, “Didn’t realize it was a secret.”

“It’s not. I mean I don’t advertise it, but I haven’t put in the effort to really hide it.”

“Shepherd would probably—”

She silenced him with a glare.

“He’s not moving, especially not to Whitby.”

“Whitby?”

“The facility in England.” she waved through the explanation, “Used to be a mental asylum, my great uncle spent some time in there. Family’s sworn it off.”

“There’s more facilities than the ones here and England.”

She was right that he’d guessed what loved one had been threatened. She shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s not in good enough shape to move, and I’m visiting him alone. So if you’re going to tail me, just stay forty feet away from the building.”

“Okay. Do you want me to drive you there? I know it’s a ways away.”

She took another long stare.

“You have a car?”

“I rented one when I landed.”

She groaned. She missed when she could afford a car.

“Yeah, you can drive me there, but only because it’s cheaper than bus fare.”

Viktorya dozed in the car, not waking up until they were a few minutes from Evergreen.

“Oh, you’re up,” John said, eyes completely on the road.

“What tipped you off?” she readjusted herself in the seat so she could sit up.

“You move more in your sleep,” he answered.

“Creep,” Viktorya muttered.

“I just notice things.”

“You don’t have to bring up everything you notice.”

“Wouldn’t hiding it make me more of a creep?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes, looking out her window to avoid him as best she could.

The moment the car stopped she was out.

“I’ll be staying until visiting hours are up, so I hope you brought a coloring book.”

She walked up to the front desk, exchanging pleasantries. They showed her where her father was at the moment, playing solitaire with Blake, a luck mage around Viktorya’s age who’d been there for just under a year.

“You can put that on the foundation, you know?” she greeted, pointing out one of the errant twos.

“We’re waiting for an emergency,” her father said, not bothering to look up at her. His English accent, though mostly faded, stuck out among the group.

“If your daughter’s here,” Blake said, “You don’t have to wait for anything.”

“Thanks, Blake,” Viktorya said.

“Fine.”

Her father rolled his wheelchair back and looked her up and down with his glasses.

“You don’t usually wear this much makeup,” he said, “Got a date planned?”

“Anybody we know?” Blake asked.

“I just felt like being pretty.”

“I’m flattered,” Blake said, “But you’re not my type.”

Viktorya rolled her eyes, taking the extra seat at the table.

“You’re not going to win,” she said. Blake never won a card game, that’s why he played them. It absorbed the bad luck so he didn’t suffer a bad accident like the one that brought him to Evergreen in the first place.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ms. Oracle. Maybe I really want to win this time.”

“She’s not looking into the future,” her father said, “She just knows a pattern when she sees it. How are you doing, Ksen?”

Blake looked away.

“Kseniya is mom’s name, not mine.”

“Well how am I supposed to keep track? You two look so alike.”

“How so?” Viktorya asked. She’d seen photos of her mother, and knew how different they looked.

“You’ve got that same look in your eyes that says I’m the bad guy, but I’m not the bad guy, understand?”

“I don’t think—”

“What did I do for you to leave?”

Viktorya clenched her fists. This happened every visit.

“I didn’t leave, dad. I’m never far away. I’m your favorite daughter, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. I’m sorry. It’s just—”

“Yeah, it’s hard. I miss her too.”

“I’ll leave you two to your heart to heart,” Blake stood up, somehow managing to knock half the card on the floor, “After I put this away.”

The Renfields laughed, finally getting the drama out of their system.

“You have something on your mind, Viktorya,” her father said. As a mind mage, Maxwell Renfield wasn’t able to offer his daughter as much privacy as she probably needed. Their best compromise was that he’d at least prompt her before breaking into her mind.

“More than just something,” she admitted.

“What can you tell me?”

She watched around them. Aside from Blake nobody seemed to care, and he could afford to know her work history.

“I took a job, and it got complicated.”

“What job?” her father asked.

“A Court job,” she admitted into the crook of her arm, laying on the table.

“You stole something?”

“They threatened you.”

“So? I’m a cranky old man whose wife left him! What do I have to live for?”

Blake chuckled under the table. Viktorya gave him a soft kick.

“You have me,” she said.

“Am I worth it if I’m holding you back?”

Now was when the other shoe usually dropped. She braced herself as she continued.

“I can’t lose you.”

Her father blinked several times.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath.

“Can’t lose who?”

“A lot of people I’ve lost,” she answered, “Including you.”

“Kseniya.” her father took her hands.

“Viktorya.”

“Right, Viktorya, sorry! You just look so much like her.”

“How so?” she asked, accusation now absent from her tone.

“You have the same looks in your eyes, like right now you’re pitying me.”

“Sorry.”

“Still pity.”

Her father recovered, and they went to his room so he could be in a comfortable space.

“What did you steal?” he asked.

“Oh, this is the funny thing. I stole a pendant from Gareth Shepherd, and then it got sent back to me.”

“Shepherd?” her father asked.

“Yeah, I know it was a bad idea, but I—”

“Who’s Shepherd.”

Oh thank god he wasn’t going to chide her for it.

“He’s a wealthy old man, whose head of security is—”

Her father’s eyes widened.

“The wall, Viktorya! You’re still obsessed with that?”

“I’m not.” She kept it up to reduce the visions. She’d taken it down because he was within walking distance right now.

“Please keep your defenses up. Your mother—your uncle—it’s a bad omen, not some romantic fate.”

“He came here because I called him to take the pendant back. He—”

“Tear it down, Girlie.”

Viktorya cowered.

Maxwell Renfield didn’t get a commendation from the queen for nothing. People listened to him when he demanded it.

“I already did. There’s no point to it when he’s close enough to have driven me here.”

She tried to close her mouth, but her father’s expression hardened.

“He drove you here?”

She nodded, unable to lie.

He stormed out of the room. Viktorya tried to pull him back, but her hands were warded away.

On her third attempt he grabbed her hand, then placed a hand on her temple. She bent down from a splitting headache.

“Shit!”

One of the orderlies grabbed him, eyes turning violet as he fell into their arms.

“I’m sorry about that,” they said.

“I provoked him. It’s on me.” she still had the headache. “Do you have any aspirin?”

“We try to keep medication for the residents.”

“Of course.” she nodded. She had some at home.

He’d never been aggressive before. He mouthed off, and acted like she was her mother every now and then, but never forced her mind like that.

What if Aspirin wouldn’t fix it?

“Should I stay until he wakes up?” she asked.

“No, it would be best to let him cool down before your next visit.”

“Right.”

She watched as her father was put on a gurney and wheeled away. She backed into the exit, stumbling toward the car.

Johnathan was already out. He bridged the distance and lifted her chin to get a better look.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” she stared at the concern in his face, leaning in slightly.

He pulled away.

“Why did you leave early?”

“Dad got angry. I got a headache. Called it quits. Now I can work on a different project.”

He didn’t need to know any details of what happened.

“Who grabbed your head.”

“You were watching?” she pushed him further away, stalking to the car.

“Are you mad I don’t trust you?” he asked, “You already pointed out that you stabbed me, not to mention you’re a thief.”

“I need aspirin before I can deal with your stalker bullshit.”

She almost walked past the car, but she wasn’t going to deal with a bus while she had a headache.

The door was locked. She bumped her head against the top of the vehicle.

“It wasn’t about watching you,” Johnathan said once he caught up, entering the car and unlocking her door so she could get in.

“What was it about then?”

She couldn’t just tell him to shut up while driving.

“I was watching for anything suspicious among the staff or residents. The people who would have access to threaten your father.”

“And you caught what looked like a fight, but it was just my dumb ass trying to hide things from a mind mage.”

“I almost went in to stop it.”

“That would have made things worse.”

She rubbed her temples, trying to use a little bit of Elven healing, but it didn’t do anything.

“He isn’t normally like this,” she said as John started to drive away.

“Like what? Who?”

“My dad isn’t usually this angry, or aggressive. He’s great most of the time, a little forgetful, but great.”

“What set him off?” he asked.

“That is none of your business.”

“You started this conversation.”

“I did, and I’m going to end it now.”

She tried not to let the sound of the car irritate her head more as she searched the glove compartment for anything that could help.

“My dad wasn’t great,” John admitted, “Some days I wish I could go back and punch him in the teeth.”

She laughed, wincing at the movement of her face.

“Thanks for the perspective. That may be the first thing you told me about yourself. I learned your name from Shepherd.”

“I’m surprised he never insisted you call him Gareth.”

“I was too busy running from you.”

It wasn’t that long ago.

“But you did interview him,” he said.

“That was several years ago, and I was too nervous to listen to anything he said. I had to listen to my recording over a dozen times to catch everything.”

“Good thing you didn’t come in person then.”

Based on how fast he caught on to her last time, she didn’t think she would have gotten in the door. This did give her the worst opportunity though.

“Maybe if we met then, I would have asked you out.”

The car stopped. She was kept from knocking into the dashboard by Johnathan’s hand on her neck.

“What was that!” she tried to rub her neck, but his hand was still there.

He didn’t answer, just removed his hand and returned to driving like nothing happened.

“Are you already taken or something?”

He still didn’t answer.

“Normally I’d put more effort into leaving a guy speechless than asking him out in a past that didn’t happen.”

“It’s a bad idea,” he said.

“Oh, so he talks. Wait, why? Is it me or you?”

He went back to the silent treatment.

Her headache throbbed again.

“Yeah, fine, whatever. Forget I said anything. Just pretend any flirting is me being a manipulative—”

“It’s me,” he answered.

“What?”

“You’re right, let’s forget about it.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

The aspirin didn’t help, and the indoors made her feel worse, so now she was in the park, with her easel and several ignored sketches, as she painted Johnathan Hunter on the far bench.

He was relatively abstract, and the shade on his hair made it too yellow, but she needed the excuse to stare at him.

She very much did not forget her semi-confession and his brake pushing in response.

“What baggage do you have, Mr. Hunter?” she muttered, adjusting her glasses.

His gaze flicked toward her, almost squinting. Had he heard her?

It seemed he had as he was now walking toward her.

“What are you working on?” he asked.

She gestured for him to come look at the canvas. He leaned on the back of the bench to look over her shoulder.

“I thought you looked interesting sitting there.” She was focused on the observer and not the art at the moment.

“You were drawing two nights ago, is this a regular thing for you?” he asked.

“If I have to reveal another thing about myself, so do you. What the hell is this ability you have to see through walls?”

He looked up and away from her, then returned forward.

“It’s not sight, really. I call it my sense. My mother calls the ability total awareness.”

“Creative.”

“I liked it better than ESP, even if that’s accurate. I can know the rough outline of everything within a certain radius or focus on certain areas to get a better idea of them. It lets me search people, keep tabs on places, and be inconspicuous while I do it.”

“Huh.”

It seemed fairly simple, though clearly he’d practiced with it.

“How far is the radius, exactly?”

“It’s hard to measure, and I don’t think someone in your line of work needs to know.”

Viktorya put her hands up.

“I’m just a librarian.”

“You stabbed me and stole from my employer less than a month ago.”

“You could have just let me past, and apparently you would have gotten the item back.”

He leveled a glare.

“Visions of the future are aggressive,” Viktorya explained, changing the subject, “They need an outlet. I started drawing things out when I was a kid, then I started doing it for fun, and to get a better idea of what my prophecies were saying. Then I learned painting out the sketches helped clarify what they were showing me.”

“So these are all visions?” he started to flick through her stack of sketches. She stuck them back in her portfolio before he could see the one from two nights ago.

“Prophecies, and no, not all of them are. Some are just personal.”

“And you used none of them?”

“No.”

Her headache was finally abating.

“Any more questions?” she asked. She liked this game.

“Why did you make that comment in the car?”

“I thought you wanted to forget about it.”

“I’m just curious.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You’re an attractive man who’s not a complete asshole, and I like your company. It’s very simple.”

He turned just a little pink. She decided to ask him something less to do with their current situation.

“How did you end up as Gareth Shepherd’s head of security? You seem a little young to earn the trust of a man of his years.”

“I’m older than I look,” he admitted, “But I had a shortcut to his trust: He’s my godfather.”

“I see: Nepotism.”

“I didn’t start at my current position. Gareth got me in because I wanted out of the military, and it quickly became obvious I was the only bodyguard he didn’t try to get away from, so I got the role permanently. Since I was already in all the meetings, my boss recommended me for his position when he was retiring, and nobody questioned it. I’ve been head of security ever since.”

“He tried to get away from people he hired to protect him?”

Johnathan smiled.

“He doesn’t trust a lot of people. I just already knew a lot of his secrets.”

“I can see why you’d come here personally for something of only sentimental value for him.”

John nodded.

“How did you become a court member that the princess has met?” he asked.

She kind of felt bad about the easy questions she was given.

“She scouted me. We met while I was doing a very different job, and she thought I had potential, so she brought me to the king, and I learned.”

“Why did you stop?”

“My dad found out, and asked me if I preferred money or happiness because right then I wasn’t getting both. I was so angry, but he was right, so I applied at any libraries or museums within a bus ride of Evergreen. Eventually I got something, and now here I am.”

“Is that why you sold your house?”

She felt her expression turn from a light smile to disgust.

“Did you seriously go through my financial history?”

“The investigator I hired did, yes. She’s thorough.”

Their situation slammed into her yet again. They weren’t friends. He was doing his job, making sure she didn’t have some hidden secret to harm his boss.

She wasn’t going without a final answer though.

“That conversation in the car. How are you the problem?”

It was cruel to bring up the subject. He wasn’t trying to play with her feelings, that was all her.

He started to walk away. She grabbed his arm.

“If you’re not willing to answer, I’ll ask you something else.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Wow, I had no idea.” she said without intonation.

He shook his head.

“Shitty past experience? Something an ex said made you feel like an asshole? Workaholic?”

“Yeah.”

“All of the above?”

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

He was less convincing now than when he pretended to flirt with her.

“You can just say you’re not interested. I understand if you’re not comfortable rejecting advances, but I prefer that over some emotional two-step.”

He pulled his arm away. She held on, getting pulled over the bench. She jumped to finish the move comfortably.

“You are aggravatingly stubborn, you know that?” John said.

“Says the man I had to kiss to get away from.”

“Fine.”

He lifted her chin slightly.

“What?”

Something pushed against her lips. She was reciprocating before she even realized she was being kissed. She felt his teeth push against her lips, her glasses moved slightly off her eyes, and somehow she wanted this moment to stay.

John’s hand moved from her chin, but she grabbed him by the collar. His hands rested hesitantly on her waist.

She finally pushed him away for air.

“Chamberlain!” she gasped.

“What?” John asked.

“That’s the name that was used. The person who hired me.”

She instinctively checked her forehead.

“My headache’s gone.”

“Do you recognize that name?” John asked.

“Not really. Do you?”

She finally looked back at him to see his demeanor had darkened.

“You definitely recognize it.”

“Kurtzberg didn’t end in the forties,” he said, turning to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Stay safe, Viktorya.”

There was no way following him would make him stay. She was just stuck here.

“Shit.”