FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

An hour and twenty-six minutes later, my flip phone started buzzing on the truck's dashboard. Cherry's eyes widened in both fear and anticipation, but he patiently sat back in the passenger seat, his tail curling atop his lap and the suitcase still resting on his shaking knees.

“Don't worry," I reassured him, trying to give him a soft smile, “I got this. And remember, don't say anything. Don't let him hear you."

Uncertainty crossed his face, as well as a flash of anger, followed by understanding.

“O-Okay…" he said.

Nodding once, I opened the phone to see a random onscreen number appear. It was a local number, meaning our dear Benefactor found out about the message left for him.

“Hello?" I answered. “I believe you might have the wrong number—"

“Don't be facetious, Mr. Faoláin!" replied a certain dingo not properly hiding his voice behind a software. “That was bold of you to pull on my own turf. Extremely foolish though. You just confirmed your location in this city."

“I could say the same for you, Mr. Benefactor," I said to the dingo on the other end, who grew silent. “You're no longer a nameless fur hiding behind a mask. We know your name, your occupation, your address, what the connection is between Becky Mullin and Charlie Rochford, and why you and Walker wanted them to disappear."

Cherry sank anxiously into his seat from the corner of my eye, holding onto the unopened suitcase as if it were a life jacket keeping him anchored in unknown waters. He couldn't be farther from the truth. While predictable behind Dark Web obscurity, I didn't know how Mitchell Corbin—smart, psychotic canine he happened to be behind closed doors—would actually react in uncharted territory. Would he take the bait, or question the true intentions enough to risk everything?

“Then why aren't you giving an anonymous tip to the Lakertown police?" he ultimately asked me. “There's nothing stopping you from ruining my life right now."

“Pretty much the same reason I'm not being surrounded by police, or Interpol, or all of our friends at the Row…for now," I stifled a confident smirk when Cherry offered an incredulous, comically overflown glare. At me and directly at the voice on the other end of the call. “Mitchell Corbin. After all the trouble you've been causing me and I've been causing you, I think we can at least agree on one thing: this has been going on for long enough. It's not in either of our best interests to attract too much attention."

“You're one to talk about bringing attention on yourselves," he retorted after careful thought on his end, “especially regarding that incident on the freeway, Mr. Faoláin."

He thought saying my real name again would unnerve me. It almost worked.

“So, you heard then?" I continued the topic. “Your new friend wouldn't cooperate when I tried tailing him. We uh…saw his handiwork. Local news is saying it was all accidental."

Although my eyes were directed at the truck's windshield, focusing on various pedestrians crossing the street opposite the drug store parking lot we'd stopped in, I could hear him. My sharp ears caught Cherry struggling not to snarl.

“DeadEx insisted he would fix our predicament," Corbin replied. “He was half-right. He did draw you and the slut out, but at the cost of his own life and a half-assed job."

“Because he didn't deal with both of them?" I asked.

Cherry almost said something. My concern worsened until I thought of a way to calm him. A paw wandered from the stick shift over to his, holding it tightly until the clenched fist relaxed somewhat. He gave a content sigh. His tail still angrily swayed, and I didn't need eyes to know its hairs stood right on end.

“I have a proposal for you," I offered. “Stop by the church at noon tomorrow—you know which one I'm referring to—and we can just talk. All four of us. You, me, Walker, and the boy."

“All four of us in the same room?" he asked in an almost mocking manner. “Is it my birthday?"

“You and I both know this game of hide-and-seek can't go on forever," I reminded the young dingo. “The LPD is going to notice all the chaos we're causing, and if they do catch up, I'll make sure you and Walker are handcuffed alongside me. Believe me, I'll make sure of that."

“Agree to disagree," the dingo finally spoke up. “But I'll accept this meeting between us only if Abraham is always there. Have him be in the same room. That tiger might be an old, pious fool, but I can trust his integrity more than yours."

One second passed. Two seconds passed. Three and then four seconds passed.

“You have yourself a deal. Don't be late."

Mitchell concluded the call abruptly, leaving a long beeping noise in my ear.

Cherry's frown hadn't disappeared, but his snarl did. “So, what now?" he finally asked.

“What now?" I echoed his words, unlocking the truck doors so we could go inside the nearest building. A smirk crept up my dark muzzle. “We're going to church."

Before that phone call, I had us check out of the motel not too long after leaving the 'message' for Mitchell, explaining quickly to the still-rattled Cherry that we needed to be on the move before making our way to St. Francis for sanctuary. Any underworld fur smart enough to know the rules wouldn't be dumb enough to perform attempted murder near the church. At least, not in its own parking lot. Sure, Father Levi's rules often specified that no violence could occur within his churches' walls, but it'd still be considered a war declaration. The border of a nation is still considered part of that nation, after all.

Very few mammals were parked outside of St. Francis Church, mainly due to it being a Saturday afternoon. The stone structure's large circular window stared down at our truck like an observant eye belonging to God, the stained-glass iris' beautiful colors shifting around the reflecting sunlight even when we entered the nave. Father Abraham was nowhere in sight, but I still motioned for Cherry to place a few hundred-dollar bills into the donation box.

A hunched nun of calico and possibly tabby descent walked out of a hallway, having spotted us. “Good afternoon, my son," she spoke up. “Father Abraham is expecting you. If you and the young man can follow me, please."

We wordlessly trailed behind her in a slow pace. Cherry awkwardly looked between me, her, and the various portraits and paintings lined up along the hallway. I remained focused on the mahogany door at the end and could almost spot the white tiger's looming silhouette through the foggy glass. The nun knocked twice, then opened the door to let us in.

“Hello, you two." He waved behind his modest desk, in his modest office chair. “Thank you, Georgina. You may leave us now."

“Yes, Father."

The nun closed the office door behind us, and I gave a reassuring nod to a nervous Cherry for him sit down in the chairs opposite of Abraham's desk. I sat down beside him. He seemed nervous being further into the heart of a beast who disapproved of our job occupations. That, or the ocelot didn't know how to process how minimalistic and modest the older feline's office happened to be. I couldn't tell.

Father Abraham grasped his palms and rested them on the desk. “How are you doing this afternoon, my sons?" He asked. “How did your search go?"

“I request a favor, Father Abraham," I stated, deciding to skip the pleasantries.

“A favor?" He perked an eyebrow at us. “How much of a favor is it you need?"

Without missing a single beat, I quickly explained the events of the previous several hours to the middle-aged white tiger. He sounded displeased about certain events, but never interrupted. Similar to Cherry, I couldn't tell what he was thinking behind that warm and rigid gaze. Sometimes, the tiger and by extension, his family, could be more than eager to 'mediate' differences by acting as arbitrator. Sometimes however, the Zacharias clan didn't like involving themselves too deeply with petty squabbles between organized criminals. Especially if it could mean bloodshed near their backyard if one party didn't like the results.

“I see…" Father Abraham's fingers tapped curiously against his old desktop. “When did you propose they arrive?"

“Noon tomorrow," Cherry mentioned. “Can you protect us from him? This place is a safe haven. Sanctuary and all that, right?"

I almost chided him for butting in, but then stopped. His questions were legitimate.

“Of course, we are, my son." Father Abraham smiled at us, particularly at the ocelot. “Mass ends at approximately eleven tomorrow, so it might be difficult. Next time, I would recommend declaring an arbitration like this on a day other than the Sabbath."

“Apologies, Father." I reached over to protectively hold Cherry's left paw, which immediately relaxed into my entwined fingers. “I felt waiting any longer would be dangerous."

The feline priest thought it over and clicked his tongue in amusement.

“Fair point," he smirked at me. Could a priest be allowed to smirk?

Already, I started planning options in my head. If he refused to arbitrate, could me and Cherry have enough time to flee Lakertown again? Strategically retreat again to the cabin up North and find another way to murder Corbin and Walker without being swarmed on all sides by different adversaries?

“Very well then," Father Abraham finally decided, “If it means less death, chaos and destruction out there on the streets…I shall listen to your grievances. However, I have certain conditions for you and Mr. Rochford here to meet." He stared at us warily and held back any reservations. “While this House of God is a sanctuary for lost souls, we do have rules."

Cherry and I paused for a moment, and he asked, “What rules exactly?"

***

The cramped bed shared between us left me with a sore neck the following morning.

As I raised my head and felt something pop at the back of my neck, I blinked the tiredness in my eyes away. One of the first things I noticed was a certain ocelot sleeping atop my bare chest. My tail wagged at how soft he felt, but then, I frowned at feeling my erection press at his stomach. A part of me wanted to just ignore the rule…

No, I told myself. Not here. Not now.

Contrary to the previous times we shared a bed together, Cherry and I both had our pants on, including the underwear. Our hosts had been adamant about not doing anything, after all. Yet, that didn't mean we couldn't be a little comfortable together.

My right thumb and fingers started to caress the back of his round ears. Each one felt like touching velvet. The nimble breeze from them tickled my fingers the further I went on teasing him, appreciating him. Soon, Cherry's purrs vibrated from his throat into his shirtless (and toned, thanks to his training in the previous month) abdomen and into my chiseled chest, and I felt my tail wiggle against his between our stilled legs.

On top of awakening something between my legs, my caressing caused the feline to finally stir. He sighed after eliciting a soft moan and licked my nape. It shivered, yet he did it again and again. Then, he paused to give out a mighty yawn. Well, for a cat his size.

“M-Morning, Markus…" He stretched his neck up to stare at me through the room's darkness. “Did you sleep well? What…What time is it?"

“Morning," I replied tiredly. “I slept fine. It's probably six or so."

“How can you tell?" Cherry glanced between me and the bare-boned walls of what had used to be a small walk-in closet belonging to the church. “U-Unless there's a secret window in here, or you, hehe…can telekinetically reach for your phone—"

“They offered to wake us up for breakfast," I drooled out my answer.

“They?" he asked confusedly.

“Those two nuns, Sophie and…ah, Georgina!" I nodded in remembrance. “The cheetah and calico. Yeah, they said they would wake us for morning meal." A slightly annoyed chuckle bubbled its way up my dry throat. “I can also feel you trying for my groin."

His fingers froze midway down my beltline. Claws from his lithe fingers lightly brushed through the fur on my abs, and memories of those fingers unfortunately caused me to get harder.

“C'mon, big guy," he tried to tease me into submission. “I mean, there's no cameras—"

“You don't know that," I replied swiftly. “I don't know that either, Cherry."

Undeterred at first, the ocelot went about shifting atop my larger form, causing me to feel his own erection strain past the briefs and denims shorts separating us from a good time.

“I mean it," I groaned and reluctantly ignored our…needs. “They don't want us insulting their God."

“If God wanted me punish me for something He gave us, I would've burst into flames the moment I stepped into this church a few days back," Cherry tried arguing while eliciting out a soft whine and a tempting purring noise. “I mean, I've done worse things inside a church…"

“Not this church, boy." I firmly told him. “Rules were clear we stayed abstinent while housed here. Even walls have ears, and I won't risk insulting Abraham just to relieve our urges."

He huffed, “…you're a prude."

I smirked through the blackness of the room, then found myself laughing. Cherry laughed as well. For the first time in a long while, I didn't mind our situation. He must have felt that way too, because the ocelot then touched his nose with mine. Seconds later, my erection sprang back to life…only for us to hear footsteps nearby.

A doorknob shook, and light burst in.

“What the—"

“Ack!"

Startled and embarrassed, I pushed Cherry off me at the same time he instinctively moved to stand up. I immediately followed suit, though far too late as the door opened. We stammered and fought the urge to blush at the sight of a familiar calico dressed in nun's garbs under the doorframe.

“Young men, I hope you slept pleasantly," she said, and held back any remarks about the way she found us. At least, neither of us were fully without clothing. “Father is gathering us in the cafeteria for breakfast, so I would suggest you join us before we give grace."

“Yes, ma'am," we replied in unison.

Sister Georgina walked out of view and stopped a few yards down. The door remained open as we changed our clothes back-to-back. Cherry's tail swished between his legs and tickled my ankles. It tempted me to turn back. It tempted me to see my male lover in all his undressed glory. However, the growls emitting from our hungry stomachs proved to be more effective in dampening our desires.

Before leaving the room, I made sure the two small devices were still in my jacket's coat pocket. They were, and I hoped my developing Plan B would not receive any roadblocks.

The quiet church unsettled me as we followed the sister through a corridor and to the dining hall. I didn't mind tranquil silence, nor the sounds of morning blue jays outside the pristine windows, but I still warily felt on edge due to the events of the previous couple of days. Cherry displayed the same hypervigilance, though not as much as his ears shuddered and twitched at each tiny noise.

Everyone in St. Francis' clergy welcomed us with open arms. Sister Georgina and a frail doe called Sister Lorie went so far as to save us each a seat before the hall was led into morning prayer. Whether or not they knew about our pasts or simply didn't show their disgust, I had no fucking clue. What I did know was that the oatmeal served tasted better than at first glance. What surprised me further though was afterward, when everyone started eating from their bowls and Cherry began speaking animatedly to the sisters at our table. Most of it consisted of the weather and a very friendly debate on Halloween versus Christianity.

Sadly, neither the friendly debate nor the ocelot's upbeat smile lasted long enough. It started when Father Abraham stepped into the dining hall, dressed in his priestly robes and wearing a somber expression. I immediately picked up on it, as did most of the other nuns, but Cherry got distracted partway through describing the fun of wearing costumes when our host stopped at our table.

“—ain't a sinful holiday as long you're having fun and…oh, good morning, Father!" Cherry smiled up at the tiger upon noticing his presence. His expression didn't change. “What's wrong, sir?"

“Good morning, my son," he answered him in a neutrally condolent tone. “May I have a word with you? Alone?"

The wagging tail behind Cherry ceased to a stilled wave. The smile on his feline face slowly dissipated as a million thoughts bounced visibly in his amber eyes. He glanced at me, my expression as uncertain as his, and he stood up to trail behind the retreating priest to a private corridor. I didn't need to overhear their conversation to know what was being told. Neither did any of the other nuns aware of our situation, and that of his dad. However, I did hear a series of loud sobs that made it over the murmuring at various tables.

My silent thanks went to Father Abraham for comforting him in a way I couldn't.

Uncomfortable minutes went by as I stared down at my half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. I continued doing so, imagining my metal spoon as a sharp machete and the pieces of oat or raisin as the throats belonging to those responsible. I imagined slicing into the Adam's apple of Mitchell Corbin. The thought of seeing him destroyed ate me up inside. I didn't even fully regard my ocelot's return to the table, or the hushed condolences given by the more gossiping nuns, until he leaned to me.

“Dad's dead," he said weakly. “Father Abe told me he passed away last night at the…at the hospital. They…The doctors think it was p-prolonged expo…exposure…"

I listened to him, then did the best thing I could do. My eyes met his bloodshot irises, and next, I let him hug me for as long as the nuns didn't object. Thankfully, they didn't.

The rest of breakfast flew past my memories. Time didn't give me a chance to talk to Cherry about his loss or the effect it had on him. I didn't remember the rush in-between putting our dishes away and trailing into the church's main hall, already almost packed with the devout and a couple of newcomers like us. As part of the deal for housing and hosting a quasi-arbitration later, Father Abraham requested our attendance to Sunday Mass. It was non-negotiable alongside the temporary abstinence. Otherwise, we could find safe haven inside of another church.

His words, not mine.

Father Abraham made his procession to the altar as everyone sat down. During this, the choir boys displayed their vocal talents. Sitting in a pew beside Cherry, trying my best to look like I was attentive and remaining observant of my surroundings (no sight of our Benefactors yet), I recalled blurry memories of attending Mass during my childhood in Northern Ireland. The few good memories that flickered in my mind involved Father and Mother attempting to have us be a normal family, a devout pack of wolves who truly followed the beliefs of the Vatican, before the drinking and drugs came into our hateful lives.

I remembered being a cub in primary school, enjoying the songs and listening to Mother's friendly banter with neighbors in attendance. She acted more animated, actively listening to what Jack O'Leary's mother was saying or how our family could participate in an upcoming church picnic. It all felt like sappy nostalgia. I could even obscurely remember one Mass where Father smiled, he genuinely smiled.

All of that was dead history.

“In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, peace be with you on this beautiful Sunday," he said amid everyone murmuring an 'Amen'. “Today, we have the famous tale of Joseph, son of Jacob and Rachel, in the Book of Genesis. It is an opportunity to reflect on the follies of bitterness towards revenge, and what forgiveness and restoration can provide for us in God's grace."

I all but recognized the tranquil fury fuming behind Cherry's blank eyes staring ahead. I felt the same fury long ago, as well as on the few faces I'd personally seen on my targets' loved ones. He wanted blood, but since DeadEx already lay six feet under the earth, it meant the ocelot's wrath would be directed at the next best thing: the employers of his father's killer.

For a good twenty minutes, I shifted between strategies of how to make our exit following the arbitrations and its aftermath, as well as how to make sure Cherry did not do anything impulsive. He knew better than to go against a direct order from me, but I knew how young and emotional the boy was. He would go directly for Mitchell's throat, given the chance.

He couldn't let him do it. Not in a House of God like St. Francis. It'd doom us both.

I settled on shifting the strategy. Originally, it involved just me sitting alone with the dingo and his grizzly accomplice as we discussed our terms and conditions. The more I considered having Cherry be apart from the arbitration, the more I considered Mitchell Corbin's thorough suspicions.

Mass eventually came to a trickling end, following a final prayer. During this, I covertly reached into my jacket's pocket, fingers instinctively pushing the right buttons until I felt my way to the correct folder on the device's tiny screen. I clicked the button and waited seconds.

Recalling countless times that I'd seamlessly performed the task, I waited.

“…everlasting joy, gladness without end, and perfect happiness to your saints. Grant this through Christ our Lord. Amen." Father Abraham said as the rest of the congregation repeated his final word. “Blessed, be with you, and have a wondrous day ahead, my children."

Everyone started leaving. The moment that Cherry stood up from the pew, shivering slightly due to the morning weather and the cathedral's lack of electric heating, I promptly grabbed his abandoned jacket on the floor and helped him into it. Little did the trusting ocelot realize the deception, not even noticing as I slipped the first, smaller device into the jacket's interior pocket. It barely weighed more than a single ounce, but to me, the importance of it rivaled a single pound of gold.

A foreign pang nagged the back of my mind when I patted the quiet ocelot's shoulder, and when he attempted to smile up at me. The emotions redeveloping lately for me were screaming at me to feel guilt for the deception. I quickly suppressed them, however. He would forgive me easily. If not for forming a plan behind his back, then giving Cherry the satisfaction that all of it would be worth it in the end.

Whatever happened in the next couple of hours, the Benefactor wouldn't kill any more innocent people.