The Fox and The Hunter

Jon woke up with the immediate desire to go back to sleep, avoiding the mess he’d made of reality. Right now, Viktorya Renfield was in his mother’s house, sleeping on the couch. He’d admitted to something between them, and Dick was coming.

Maybe if he stayed in bed he wouldn’t have to deal with any of it.

But then Viktorya would have to deal with all of it alone.

He got himself slightly presentable and made his way down to find his mother in the kitchen.

“Can you cut the onions?” she asked without turning to actually see him.

“Sure, how many and how?”

“Two, diced.”

“And why?” he added.

“Potatoes.”

He wasn’t going to get much further answer than that. His mother only explained about as much as she needed.

“How was our house guest last night?” she asked.

“She liked the diner,” Jon admitted, “It only seems fair to warn you, she’s been roped into Val and Camille’s schemes.”

“Are they seriously on that again?” she asked, finally turning around.

“‘Again’ indicates they ever stopped,” Jon corrected.

His mother rolled her eyes and returned to cutting the potatoes.

“Gareth and I will sort ourselves out in our own time.”

“I know, mom.”

“Time that we have.”

“I know, mom.”

“I’m still friends with the man, and they act like I’m a lonely miser for his absence.”

“You do complain about how often Val and I aren’t around.”

After another chop, Diana was back to watching him.

“You’re as bad as they are.”

Jon just smiled and offered her the chopped onion. She put it in a bowl and moved to the next ingredient.

“Back to our house guest. Do you still not know why she stole Angharad’s pendant?”

Jon shook his head. Gareth mentioned his mother so rarely, he’d forgotten her name, but of course his mother knew.

“She was hired by someone under the name Chamberlain, like I said before.”

His mother still objected to Dick being a valid suspect, but still asked about progress every time.

“Of course you did, yes.”

Thankfully she didn’t argue.

“She knows I’m older than I look.”

“And?” Diana insisted.

“And she wrote a book, featuring some of our family history.”

“So?”

“So she’s got plenty of the pieces to figure us out before then.”

“You’re talking like this is a problem.”

His mother turned on the stove, placing a pan on, hand hovering above to feel for the heat.

“Is it not one?” Jon asked.

“Not particularly,” his mother said, “I have no intention to advertise our kind to the world, but it’s no more of a secret than the rest of what we hide. If you wish to tell her, then tell her.”

“Just like that?” Jon asked.

“Just like that.”

“And Val?”

“Val cares less about secrets than I do. She’ll be fine.”

“She’s already published a book,” Jon warned, “Imagine what she’d do with more info about us.”

“Without sources, love?” his mother asked, “She won’t get very far with that. Besides, I was already known to heal from injuries when I was coerced. It’s even in the file that I don’t age.”

“You do age though,” Jon said, “Just weirdly.”

He immediately waited for a smack to the arm for making a comment about his mother’s age.

“Aye,” she said, “But they weren’t researching enough to care.”

Of course they weren’t.

The discussion was interrupted by a startled scream that sounded like Viktorya. Jon started running toward her when Mandie made him halt.

Who is the woman on the couch? she asked, her head cocked in that curious bird way again.

“Who’s the alarm committee?” Viktorya asked, following at a much slower pace, “Freaked me the hell out.”

Jon hadn’t seen Victoria change into her pajamas, and was surprised to see it wasn’t a night dress like when he’d visited, but just some comfortable pants and a tank top. Then he remembered she’d asked a question.

“Mandie,” he searched around him for the little girl in question, “Isn’t in view anymore. My mom’s taking care of her. She’s shy.”

“Not shy enough,” Viktorya huffed, “Breakfast smells good at least, assuming I get to have any.”

“No,” Diana said from the kitchen, “You have to starve while you’re here at my son’s behest—of course your can have some, once I’m finished. There’s juice in the fridge, and I had Val acquire some instant coffee since Gareth drinks the stuff.”

Viktorya made an impressed expression.

“You should be in hospitality. I’m Viktorya.” she offered a hand.

“Renfield, if I recall. I’m Diana Hunter, Jonathan’s mother.” she took Viktorya’s hand in hers and watched the woman’s expression.

“This may just be the sudden wake-up call affecting my vision, but are you sure you’re related?” Viktorya asked, pulling back from the handshake, “Because you two don’t look very similar.”

“Aye,” Diana said, “He takes after his father. Val got the height too, and the hair. I suppose it can be surprising.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Jon said, “She laughed at Val’s ex when he met her. She gets a kick out of the surprise factor.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Viktorya said, “My mom used to convince people she was raising her little sister when we went to the store together. It would work too, until you brought my father into the mix, and I clearly looked like a mix of both of them.”

“They must have had some weird ideas about your family,” Jon noted.

“Yeah,” Viktorya admitted, “But it was fun. It always felt nice to be in on the joke.”

“And does she still act like your sister?” Diana asked.

“No, she isn’t connected to me at all now. She left when I was a teenager.”

Jon grabbed the instant coffee from the tea cabinet.

“I can heat up the water for you,” he offered.

“Thanks,” Viktorya said.

“My condolences,” Diana said, “Though they didn’t intentionally leave me, I understand the experience of losing a parent in your formative years. I was fifteen when I lost both of mine.”

“That’s terrible,” Viktorya said, “What happened?”

“Burned at the stake,” Diana said, shrugging like it was a harmless anecdote, “Had to remove the snakes somehow.”

Viktorya’s eyes seemed to search around for information. Jon didn’t want to know her conclusions.

“You’ve been around a long time, haven’t you?” she asked.

“Aye, too long to have an exact count, not to mention the changes of calendars.”

“Different calendar?” Viktorya asked, “How different?”

Diana shrugged.

“I don’t recall the way the months passed, only that they did.”

“Okay…” Viktorya seemed utterly fascinated with Jon’s mother. He wanted to pull her away, but he liked this look of fascination. Maybe he just wanted it aimed elsewhere.

“Can we go somewhere, privately, later?” he asked.

The kettle whistled, and his mother pulled it off the heat, put it on a potholder and placed it on the kitchen island in front of Viktorya, along with a mug.

“Thanks,” Viktorya said, mixing her coffee together, “Um, sure, we can go somewhere. I’m literally just here to exist for a week, and to be in eye-line of you or someone you trust.”

“Great, after breakfast then.”

“After lunch,” Viktorya said, “I need to get dressed, and all of the other things.” she shook her hands around her head as if that explained it.

“Okay,” Jon agreed, “But that means you’ll be dealing with everyone arriving by then.”

Viktorya grimaced then looked at her coffee.

“Still after lunch. I’d rather Camille complain about me abandoning her then about me not being here when she arrives.”

She had a point.

“After lunch then.”

“About the age thing,” Eleanor said, suddenly standing.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned the family secret at all,” Jon lamented. They’d been careful about their leave not exactly matching, so they had only so much time together, and she’d barely escaped her parents. “We’re the same age,” he confirmed.

“Not that part,” Eleanor said, “I don’t really care if you’re lying about being a whole century older than me—”

“I’m not.”

“Or how you keep insisting on it.”

She fell back down into his lap. Despite her comments, Jon couldn’t keep himself from kissing her temple.

“I want to be buried here when I die,” Eleanor said.

“What?” Jon asked.

“Well I’m obviously dying first,” she remarked, “And we’re not in the safest career, so I want it said now; bury me here.”

“That’s not really how it works.”

She leaned back into him.

“I know, but I don’t want a soldiers grave, I want my grave, and I want it here, somewhere hidden so you don’t see a reminder of me all the time, but here.”

“I’m not sure my mother will like that idea.”

“I can be very persuasive.”

Jon entwined her hand in his, and kissed it.

“Please don’t talk about death, not here, not now.”

They could worry about it after everything was over.

“Are you saying you don’t like my morbidity?”

“I don’t want to think about losing you.”

Eleanor kissed his hand back.

“Is that why you went for someone younger?”

“Shut up!”

After perilously navigating the rest of his family, Jon managed to pull Viktorya into the surrounding woods, aiming for a clearing he should have known better.

“Should I be worried about being isolated from the only people that could maybe beat you up?” Viktorya asked.

“You have your swords, don’t you?” Jon asked.

“That’s not a no.”

“I won’t hurt you,” he assured.

“What makes you so sure?”

He paused then, turning to her.

“Because I don’t think you’re going to do something that I’ll have to hurt you about.”

Viktorya waited a moment to follow him after that.

“You don’t know me that well.”

“I don’t,” Jon admitted, “This is an assessment of intelligence rather than morals. We both know who would win in a fight.”

“What makes you so sure?” Viktorya asked, “As far as I’m aware, I won our last round.”

“Not if you include when you ran away.”

“That was a chase, not a fight. Besides, I have an idea of how you tick now, Jonny.” she flicked his hair as she walked past.

“You don’t know your way around here,” he pointed out.

“I’ll just see where you’re—”

She stopped mid-sentence, her smile and lean soon replaced with a look of concern.

“You’re taking me to a grave.”

He probably should have told her before they started walking.

“Is it a threat? Is it your dad? Why is there a grave on this property? Singular, just the one. A singular grave is far stranger than multiple.”

Jon dared to step closer. Viktorya didn’t pull away, but she put her hand in front of herself.

“It’s not a threat,” Jon explained, “It’s definitely not my father, and it’s here because she asked to be, got my mother’s permission and everything, not that the body’s anywhere nearby.”

“Where’s the body?” Viktorya asked, “What did you do to the body?”

“I—” He’d saved the body, the last thing he was able to do for her, “She’s buried in Arlington, or some other military cemetery. I haven’t been since the funeral.”

Viktorya’s arm went down.

“I’d ask who she is, but I think I’d rather see her name for myself.”

She let Jon lead her to the site. Jon had avoided it since he’d placed the marker, only returning after Mandie dredged up the name. Val had kept it clean in the interim.

“Eleanor,” Viktorya read, “No last name?”

“She didn’t like her last name, asked me to forget it existed.”

“No last name given,” Viktorya muttered, she idled her hand across the marker, feeling within it.

“There’s history in the name, and little else.”

“I don’t come here often,” Jon admitted.

“Don’t like regular reminders of a loved one’s absence, do you?” Viktorya asked, making it clear she thought his tone was too apologetic.

“It’s a little more than that.”

He sat on the grass, looking at the awkward stone Gareth had carved.

“What was she?” Viktorya asked, “To you?”

Jon shook his head. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t be telling anyone about this.

She knew too much not to tell her.

“My family, our kind, aren’t mages, or empowereds, we’re something else.”

“Like a different species?” Viktorya asked.

“No, we’re human,” Jon said, “Though we’ve been called gods in some cultures.”

“You’re a god, are you?” Viktorya asked.

Jon rolled his eyes.

“We really should remove that detail from the speech.”

“There’s a speech?” Viktorya asked, “Are you not giving me the whole speech?”

“You would have gotten it if you didn’t interrupt.”

“Well forget that, I’m interrupting.”

Jon couldn’t keep himself from a smile.

“You already know we live a long time, but you don’t know why.”

“Why then?” she asked.

Jon took a knife from his jacket and cut down his whole arm. Viktorya ran to grab it, those familiar sparks already pouring from her fingers, but Jon stood back up and held his arm out of range.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He adjusted his position every time she tried to reach the now completely healed arm.

Finally she went the straightforward route, lining her arm up with his, pushing against him to make them one line of movement, so all Jon could see of her surprise was the widening of her eyes when she realized his arm didn’t need any healing.

Then she seemed to notice how close they were, and jumped back.

“You heal fast,” Viktorya assessed, a declaration and a question in one tone, “I’ve seen that before, I’ve heard of it…”

Viktorya looked at him with a curiosity that made Jon take a step back.

“You knew about project Kurtzberg before you even read my book,” she said, “And you weren’t lying about being family with the Senator, especially since you have the same last name, Jonathan Walters, Jr.”

Jon cringed at the name.

“I prefer Hunter.”

“Oh, you mean the codename,” Viktorya began. Of course she’d piece it all together. “I knew I recognized your sister. Calico, I think her name was.”

“She’s Val.”

“Why tell me?” Viktorya asked.

“What?”

“Why. Tell. Me. Jonathan?”

What else was he supposed to do?

“Because I thought you should know.”

“Why?”

“Because it was going to come up, and you already figured out too much about us anyways.”

“Right,” Viktorya nodded, “Risk assessment. More difficult if I don’t know.”

“Exactly.”

The silence that followed made him regret everything for a moment.

“Who was Eleanor?” she asked again.

He shouldn’t have brought her here. The idea didn’t seem awkward when he’d come up with it weeks ago.

“My first love,” he admitted. He hadn’t even talked about her in years. He’d avoided the subject anytime there was a hint of it.

“Oh,” Viktorya said.

“We bonded when it was my job to keep her alive, until I couldn’t.”

“What—” Viktorya stopped, “There wasn’t anyone named Eleanor in the Kurtzberg files, not the ones I found anyways.”

“It’s not her given name,” Jon admitted.

Viktorya looked back at the stone, then at Jonathan, then her arm. Then she started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Jon asked.

She shook her head, regaining her composure.

“Why tell me about her?” she asked, “Why bring me here, specifically, for this discussion?”

Jon shook his head.

“I don’t even know anymore. I just thought you should know what you were getting into, with me, and the rest of my family, and Eleanor’s an important part of that, Because—”

“Because you couldn’t protect her,” Viktorya said, “And you loved her. And every time I’ve said some stupid flirty shit, you freeze, because you’ve lost someone.”

She stepped closer.

“I will say it as many times as I have to, Jon. I can handle myself.”

Jon stepped closer.

“It’s not like my life is dangerous enough to put you in those situations anymore.”

“So we’re agreed,” Viktorya said.

“Are we?” Jon asked.

She hugged him tightly.

“Take your time,” she told him, “You’re too good for me anyways.”

She stepped away before Jon could reciprocate the gesture, or do anything else. Then she left the clearing.

“I’ll—”

“I can get out on my own. You take your moment. I’m not going to run away.”

That was enough of a promise for him.

He sat against the tree, like when he and Eleanor would sit together.

Eleanor would say she got it wrong, and Viktorya was the one too good for Jon, or at least that was how Eleanor talked about herself.

“I am actually older than her this time, only about twenty years, but you’d call me a creep for that.”

“Twenty years?” a voice asked from behind the tree, “Who’s the middle-aged broad that’s caught your eye?”

Jon wanted to ignore Dick, but he also wanted him free from suspicion.

“Brought her this week, staying in the house with mom, Val, and I.”

Dick was dressed informally, or at least as informally as he could manage.

“I didn’t know they allowed plus ones to this shindig,” Dick leaned hard on the tree, “Do you know who could have looked great on my arm?”

Jon shook his head. He didn’t really care.

“You’re the plus one in this situation, Dick. Mom invited you.”

“Right, right,” Dick offered a hand that Jon reluctantly took. He didn’t need it, but it let Dick feel useful.

“At least I’m keeping her away from your employer, huh?” Dick asked.

Jon walked away, ignoring him, as was necessary. He’d come back later to contemplate his loss. Right now he preferred the previous company.

“I did pick up that book by the way,” Dick said, following him, “And you’re right, I didn’t recognize her at the party. She looks different without her glasses.”

He was going to recognize Viktorya. What was he going to do when he recognized Viktorya?

Well Jon was going to lie his ass off.

“What do you think?” Dick asked.

“About what?”

“About the Author-thief, is she different with glasses?”

With glasses, and her hair down so it fluffed into an awkward halo.

“Different, but not unrecognizable.”

“Well it helps that you know what’s going on under there.”

“Under where?”

Dick snickered.

“Don’t tell me you let her go without a search.”

“Yeah, I searched her. Why do I feel like you’re making it a thing that it isn’t?”

Jon had searched too many people to think there was any intimacy in the act. If there was any, that would be a bad thing.

“C’mon, cuz—”

“We’re not cousins.”

“We’re still family.”

“From the side I dislike.” There weren’t witnesses for him to be civil around, and for all Jon knew, Dick was planning something around that necklace of Gareth’s, or maybe around Viktorya. Maybe even with Viktorya.

“You don’t like your mom’s side either, unless you count her weird friends.”

“One of her weird friends put a donation behind your campaign. You went to his party months ago because you know he’s closer to your base than you are.”

“Why are you getting so mad at me?” Dick asked, “What did I ever do to you?”

“Fire!” Val yelled. Jon saw smoke.

Dick ran before he did. Jon quickly caught up.

The house was on fire. Jon’s legs locked as he heard Mandie’s screams in his mind.

“Mandie’s in there?”

Jon tried to push himself to run, but Dick outpaced him again running into the inferno.

“What are you guys waiting for!?” Viktorya yelled coming in from behind. “There’s a kid in there, can’t you…” Jon felt her come up to him, “Shit, that’s why.”

Viktorya followed Dick into the blaze.