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Chapter 16 - A Case of the Many Doors Left Open

There was nothing at my house after all. I even went inside myself to poke around the interior of my humble abode. opening the door. And not a single thing was out of place. The trees failed to grow any extra limbs, and the scant feral animal life failed to grow on any trees. The only thing that stuck out was the acrid scent of burning flesh, faint on the breeze. Stoney, Hawthorn, and The Lady Juxtaposed all lingered near my car. I couldn’t glean any more information from the Record, and the psychic Foulgydan couldn’t get a read on any strange, powerful forces through any psychic magic.

The Lady Juxtaposed was quick to question me. “What did the Record say to you exactly, Apothecary Forseti?”

“I don’t remember exactly.” head towards your house. “Oh, wait, no, I just got it again. It said ‘head towards your house.’”

“And this is in regards to the Oigd’yiadttigdeit? And not something else of importance?”

I wracked my brain for a clearer answer, literally rubbing deep circles into the fur atop my head. it is about the Oigd’yiadttigdeit and it isn’t. “It literally just said ‘yes and no-’”

“Well, not literally,” corrected The Lady Juxtaposed, who had just read my mind to glean the full phrase.

“That’s, like- You’re getting into semantics and stuff, The Lady Juxtaposed, you know what I mean.”

A brief, quiet pause, and then; “I must apologize for my short temper. I find magic pertaining to the Record to be crude and ultimately useless, when things are told in so vague a manner.”

With full earnesty, I replied, “Yeah, no, your magic’s cooler.”

Stoney threw the butt of another pre-rolled cigarette into the snow and stepped on it, “So I take it neither of you two are picking up on anything?”

The Lady Juxtaposed stared quietly at the treeline for a long time. “I cannot sense the presence of a magical being in these immediate woods.”

“Eh, shit,” the rat started to climb into the backseat once more. Though as she started to sit, her phone’s notification went off. Stoney pulled out the device with a pointlessly grandiose gesture, waving it high above her head, before she relayed the message. “Oh, hey, Foulgydan The Lady Juxtaposed. Looks like the boys from Thunder Bay made it to Esu’s, turns out they were already in Michigan, going after the Oiggy. They were able to shave down on that nine hour drive. You should probably head back.”

“You’re not coming with?” I asked.

“Nah, I’m gonna regroup with Matchstick. Have him take me to my snowmobile, maybe get a little coffee into me. You guys go without me.” A part of me was nervous about leaving the rat to herself for a long span of time, though it wasn’t as though we prevented the Hauksborque coyote from driving through the forest alone, and he was fine.

“Thank you for the update,” spoke The Lady Juxtaposed, “Do message us when you rendezvous with Hauksborque Matchstick.”

“And if shit hits the fan,” I tacked on, “Marianne used a temporal key on the door in my house, just teleport to Louisiana.”

“Can do, buckaroo,” rhymed the rodent, “He’s just out by the kraken, though, so I don’t gotta wait for too long.” And with that, our party of four was now a party of three, and we started the drive back towards the Awngaimene bar.

The Witchmoot was still in full swing. Nearly a hundred-or-so beasts were at the bar now, even more than earlier. However, the scene was now graced with the heavenly smell of fresh-baked bread and fresh-made vegetable soup, diligently being ladled into paper bowls by the ursine ghost, Old Man Willoughby. As The Lady Juxtaposed, Hawthorn, and I slammed the doors to the bar open, it was easy to notice the cascade of panicked stares cast towards our direction, though when it was clear that everyone’s security remained intact, the relaxed drone of hundreds of overlapping conversations at a crowded bar picked up once more. Hawthorn made a beeline towards the restroom. The Lady Juxtaposed made a beeline towards the raised platform, in order to make an announcement. A hush fell over the animal crowd.

“We have spotted more signs of the Oigd’yiadttigdeit, but we have not seen the being himself. No animal has come to harm, as far as we are aware. We shall return to the wilderness shortly, but the Hauksborque of Thunder Bay have arrived, and I would like to address them. That is all.”

One of the Canadians, a male heron, approached The Lady Juxtaposed from the stage, clutching a local craft brew from a bottle in his claw. It looked like an IPA. He was dressed in a bright blue parka and black snow pants, both of which he hadn’t bothered with taking off yet. His accent verged on being an explicit Canadian stereotype. “Hey there, folks. My name is Dancer. My associate here’s Kepler.” He gestured his beer bottle towards the bar, where sat a brown-and-yellow-skinned salamander, bundled up even more tightly than his colleague. “The two of us were actually just in the middle of investigating signs of the Oiggy over near the Porcupine mountains, there. Real stroke of luck we were in the area. Kepler and I will be heading out once I finish this here brewski, but unfortunately, neither of us have any more information than The Lady Juxtaposed.”

“Hey, psss-” beckoned the salamander at the bar as the general hubbub of the crowd continued once more. I was only a few seats away. “Hey, fox, are you Forseti?”

Kepler, to contrast with the heron, was completely devoid of a rural Canadian accent, and spoke with an uncharacteristic gravelly voice that contrasted with his small, soft amphibian frame. “Yeah, I’m Forseti. What’s up?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. But I heard about you, I’m actually close friends with Briar Pulpwood, I heard you were writing a book for them?”

“Oh, yeah. Doing an autobiographical thingy about-” I waved my paws around maniacally- “All this.”

“I think that’s pretty neat. How many chapters have you got so far?”

“Somewhere around fifteen I think.”

“Right on.” The salamander Hauksborque took a swig of what looked to be plain ginger ale. I assumed that he was the designated driver. Dancer came over to sit next to his colleague, but seemed to expertly fight the urge to eavesdrop despite being well within hearing range. “So listen, man. Not to be morbid, but Briar asked me…” The amphibian chuckled nervously, “Eh, it’s gonna make me sound like an asshole. But the Oigd’yiadttigdeit’s no joke. Neither the Archlitch, I believe. Briar wanted me to ask… If you want me to pass along the unfinished manuscript so far, just in case, you know, something happens. I could do that for you.”

I felt myself cross my arms nervously without thinking about it. “Um- Yeah, I guess that’s a reasonable thing to ask.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know you man, I feel like a real prick making you think about your death like that-”

“Oh, no, no you’re totally OK. You’re asking on Briar’s behalf anyway, it’s not like this is- No, you’re totally good. I’d have to go to my house again, though, to pick it up. I guess I haven’t edited it too much-”

“Briar’s more than happy fixing up typos and things like that, don’t worry about handling that yourself.”

I stuck my paw out in order to shake the salamander’s claw. “I appreciate it. I’ll make sure to get you the manuscript.” Kepler slapped his own claw onto my paw and gave it one firm, hard shake.

“Oh! Another thing, you’re buds with, uh, Ciro the coyote, right? Way out East?”

My eyes lit up as though someone flicked a light switch. Ciro belonged to the little Apothecary circle that Zuma the Puma and I belonged to, and it’d been a while since I’d seen either the canine mammal, nor his lutrine compatriot. “You know Ciro and Mako?”

“Yeah- Well, you know, I mostly only know Ciro, though.” That made sense, Mako had moved to Scotland a while back. Both the ‘yote and the otter were fast friends with the publisher hare, however, and spoke about their own literary aspirations as well as the one-eyed wolf, and even posted a few short stories online. The stories were less of a autobiographical-horror-comedy-memoir and more for a not-safe-for-work, potentially-gear-heavy BDSM-stories market, though. And while I have nothing but respect for the craft, it’s not easy to make a whole novel out of that sort of thing.

Lavitia was eavesdropping, however. “Damn, Forseti’s got friends in every corner of the world.”

“Yeah,” I started snidely, “Every corner of the world from here to Canada to Germany to Scotland-”

The impala responded with an equal amount of sass, “You go on one European backpacking tour, and suddenly-”

“Haha! Checkmate, Lavitia. I was studying in Europe.”

Lavitia didn’t hesitate. “You go on one European study-abroad venture, and suddenly you-”

“Um, Hauksborque Kepler? I’d like to report the Awngaimene Lavitia Wellwhiskey. She’s making fun of me.”

Kepler laughed gently with the glass pressed to his lips, leaning heavily onto the bar, “Your complaint has been noted. I was gonna say, though- I bring up Ciro, because I heard a little rumor that he was planning on-”

Suddenly, the sound of a glass shattering echoed through the pub, and Lavitia quickly brought forth a flurry of curses, “Motherfucker- Shit, fuck.” She held her left paw with her right. A few trickles of blood soaked through. The remnants of a broken glass lay on the counter. The Witchmoot went quiet for a moment, then picked up its conversational deluge once more.

“Oh shit, you good, Lavitia?” I’d never seen her accidentally break a glass, and while it seemed like a totally reasonable thing that any animal was capable of, the impala presented such a savvy air of professionalism that it was completely jarring to see.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” She hurried to grab a rag, soak it in cheap vodka, and treat her wound with only a minimal amount of wincing. “I’m a bit distracted.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Lavitia hesitated for a minute, then let her breath go. “Sure, but I’d like it to be private, if you don’t mind, Hauksborque Kepler.”

The salamander brought his slimy arms up deflectively, “By all means- Dancer and I will most likely head off shortly anyway. But, Forseti, we’ll be here for a few days, if you wouldn’t mind bringing the manuscript.”

“Can do, Kepler. And if anything crazy happens to me, just look for Touchstone. He knows where the manuscript is.” A faint echo of dread chimed within me at the mention of my potential demise. All it took was the introduction of this one character to remove my plot armor. I didn’t dare consult the Record on that matter.

“I can remember that. Oh, and Lavitia- You got a place for amphibians to soak here?”

“Yeah, right next to the men’s bathroom, down the hall.”

The Mulgywai Fons just so happened to be passing by to hear that. “You should really get a heat lamp-”

“I’m working on it, turtle. I’m working on it.” Lavitia beckoned for me to follow her into the kitchen, and I hopped from my stool to do just that. “Mind the bar, if you would, Willoughby.” The bear ghost said nothing, but Lavitia didn’t wait for a response.

The kitchen was far from the type one might find in your standard restaurant. Instead of plain, white tile and sleek metal countertops, an old yellow tile floor clashed with wood-paneled counters and drawers. The ovens and refrigerator were sleek and industrial, but the rest of the room looked like a kitchen from a home in the seventies.

Lavitia sat on a clean countertop. A stew bubbled on the stove, the hearty aroma causing my mouth to water. Another batch of bread filled my nasal palate as well. “Alright, fox. I wanna level with you. I got new information regarding Marianne this morning, and you’re not gonna like it.”

I meekly leaned against a counter, not taking the time to properly sit. “Alright, hit me with it.”

There was no decadence to the bovine bartender’s tone. Her usual penchant for sarcasm was gone, and it looked as though this story sat like a heavy burden on her shoulders. “I just want you to hear it from me first; so I got called for an exorcism job, ‘round eight in the morning today. Down by Escanaba. A couple Awngaimene witnessed what looked like a zombie shambling through the woods, caught it before any Tystwoles did, thankfully.”

Though most Awngaimene tried to live near other magically-inclined beasts, some practiced magic more privately. Animals near Escanaba would report to the Marquette Mulgywai, though I doubted any were present for the Witchmoot, considering the wide distance.

“Except it wasn’t a normal ghost, or reanimated corpse for that matter; this person died a few days ago. And they were Awngaimene too, otherwise there’d be no way to get past the ghost dementia so quickly. But that’s not the kicker. This animal- the one that died, was a dove from Chicago. Got killed in Chicago, and showed up in Michigan.” Lavitia started to nervously rub her chin. “He was killed by the Archlitch, from what he told me before I convinced him to pass on. Except he wasn’t a dove to begin with. He was a raccoon. And he got strung along by the Archlitch; I don’t know what the bastard promised this raccoon, but he didn’t get it. He was killed, and had his soul transferred into this other body for whatever reason, and he was ordered to walk northward until he got to Michigan.” The impala let a moment of silence fill the room before continuing. “Forseti, he was ordered to come up here to Marquette. It was a fluke that he’d get stopped in Escanaba first. The Archlitch wanted to send a message to… well, someone. But it wanted someone to know that… well, Marianne’s set up a door to get to Chicago with the temporal key.”

I swallowed audibly. “I knew about that,” I admitted, “But she just set it up so that when she had a plan to kill the Archlitch, we’d be able to get to it right away.”

“No, Forseti. She lied.” Lavitia was visibly angry. “What do you know about the spell ‘Rend Magic Asunder?’”

I’d never heard of it before. “Judging from context clues, it sounds like the Magic of Silence to me.”

“No, the Magic of Silence can only prevent magic momentarily. Rend Magic Asunder destroys magic permanently, turns the immortal into mortals, robs even the strongest Foulgydan of their power forever.” It sounded like something Marianne would want more than anything else. I let Lavitia continue.

“This raccoon told me- This man died, only because the Archlitch wanted to snitch about Marianne coming to the undead fucker and begging him to teach her this spell. Marianne has been trying to cooperate with the Archlitch this whole time.”

I then started to rub at the fur beneath my chin, not entirely ready to accept this potential betrayal, but I didn’t lose my head yet. “OK, OK. So you think that Marianne’s been setting up this whole situation, keeping us in the dark on stuff-”

“Keeping you in the dark? What do you mean?”

“Well, she doesn’t share her plans or anything, but that’s normal for Marianne-”

“So the Sphynx- What, just said ‘I’ll kill the Archlitch eventually. I’m not telling y’all if I learn anything, though. Just trust me.’ Fox, she’s stalling you-”

“So- OK, the Archlitch is probably lying-”

“Fox, you and I both know that Marianne would stop at nothing for a chance to fuck with the Foulgydan.” The Sphynx’s contempt for the Awngaimene society was anything but a secret. “I’m not saying she’s gonna go out and kill every magic user, but you don’t think she’d let this Archlitch kill a couple of animals for the chance to burn the Awngaimene society-”

“Lavitia, stop-”

“Let me finish. Burn the Awngaimene society to the ground and start from scratch?”

“God- Lavitia, I know Marianne, OK? More than you do. You’ve only met, what, a couple of times-”

“We’ve met enough.”

“She wouldn’t just let, like, so many people die-”

Lavitia slammed her hind-hoof into the wooden sides of the counter. She even put a hole in it. “Forseti, this raccoon saw her, with his own eyes. When he was alive, getting tortured. I’m assuming the dove as well. She didn’t do jack shit to save him. He’s not even the only person the Archlitch killed. That peacock, Marsden? He better count his fucking blessings that he’s still alive, because the Archlitch has racked up a body count in Chicago, and his name was on the list for a moment there. Why would these animals lie? They’re dead, Forseti, what do they gain?”

I buried my muzzle in the fur of my crossed arms. I very much wanted out of this argument. But Lavitia’s point wasn’t poorly made. It wasn’t even petty, she was just relaying a message to me. A message written in an innocent raccoon’s blood. But deep down, I felt no urge to let my trust in the Frote Foulgydan wane. “You know what? Thank you for telling me this, Lavitia, but I want to ask her about this myself, OK? And ideally after this Oigd’yiadttigdeit situation-”

“You said earlier that Florence was with her?”

I turned to leave the room, but the impala’s comment caught me off guard. “Yeah, she should be there still-”

“You trust that the Sphynx wouldn’t just kill her, like that?” A snap.

Lavitia was wrong. I succeeded in dissuading the cat from that course of action in Chicago. Marianne told me herself that she regretted considering letting Florence die. “Well, I’ll go get Florence, and I guess I’ll knock out two birds with one stone.”

“God, Forseti- I’m trying to prevent you or Florence from getting killed, you don’t know- Whatever.” I was already out of the room. Lavitia didn’t bother to follow me.

No one in Esu’s had lurked near enough in the vicinity of the kitchen to have picked out specific pieces of the conversation, but Lavitia’s raised volume didn’t go unnoticed, and a surfeit of nervous, curious eyes met mine as soon as I stepped out into the bar. However, no one felt curious enough to ask me what had conversationally transpired; no one save for Claudia, who lingered nearby. Her umbrella rested under her arm, and her pet feral dog rested against the wall directly beside her.

“What was that about?”

“Oh, hey Claudia.” I wasn’t about to let awkwardness prompt me to develop a habit of secret-keeping. “Guh, long story short, Marianne exorcised someone who got killed by the Archlitch, who apparently told her that-”

“Marianne exorcized someone?”

I was so stressed, I got my names backwards. “Op, sorry. Lavitia exorcized someone. That someone had a message about Marriane, who apparently has been meeting with the Archlitch in order to learn a spell, but I don’t believe it.”

Claudia brought up a paw and clapped me on the shoulder in familiarity. “Instincts are king.”

“How have you been holding up?”

“Bored. Missing work.”

I then patted the skunk’s shoulders myself, “Yeah, I’m not entirely sure what to do now, either. I’m not too helpful hunting the Oigd’yiadttigdeit right now, the Record’s being weird.”

“Same.”

I had forgotten that the skunk was interested in that particular school of magic. “Oh yeah? What sorts of things are you picking up?”

“Something about fate.”

“Yeah, no, you get that a lot with Record stuff. You learn to ignore it.”

“Also, text the puma.”

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “Zuma?”

Claudia shrugged.

“Wait, you think Zuma is sus?”

Claudia shrugged again. “Just ‘Text the puma.’” It was clear that the burgeoning fortune teller wasn’t too adamant about convincing me to become paranoid about my actual husband on top of my close elderly friend. She’d only just started reading the Record a week ago. That phrase probably made as little sense to me as it did to her.

“It would be absolutely fucking wild if it turned out that the puma and the cat were up to some crazy, feline conspiracy right now-”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the doors to Esu’s fling open. In came the white-furred vixen, Florence, followed by the draconic Foulgydan Annandax. Florence was shivering, and I could tell that it wasn’t from the cold alone. She had just witnessed something horrifying. the dragon had killed. For a brief moment, I saw Claudia’s eyes widen in shock. She picked up on it as well.

“Oh hey, Florence!” I pivoted one-hundred-and-eighty degrees to face the fox, but stopped in my tracks before I rudely forgot about the skunk, “I’ll chat in a sec’, Florence looks messed up.”

“You do you, man.”

I wriggled my way past the crowded bar, squeezing behind chairs with only a few centimeters serving as a gap. Annandax had made his way towards the main stage before I could make my way to the vixen. She merely stood in the open doorway, shivering in spite of the cold air she was letting in. A mouse Awngaimene wordlessly shut it instead.

“Ladies and gentleman, and those in between,” announced the dragon, “I won’t take up too much of your time. I have not been successful in locating the Oigd’yiadttigdeit, but rest assured, I have also not yet stumbled across an instance of the being causing harm to our community.” His pronunciation of the word was awkward and stilted. “Tragically, I did stumble across one deceased Fangdyne Tystwole, but he has, so far, been the only casualty…”

Though the Foulgydan had managed to wrestle the Witchmoot into a state of attentive silence, I betrayed the quiet with the intention to whisper to Florence. I pulled the white-furred vulpine in for a hug, happy to see her safe, scared to see her so unnerved, and confused to see her here in the first place. “Florence, hey! What’s up? What’re you doing here?”

Florence was listening to Annandax, and as soon as he mentioned the dead Fangdyne Tystwole, she confided in me with a half-whisper. “Annandax shot him.”

The dragon stopped mid-sentence and turned his gaze towards the two of us. Draconic senses are quite keen. “I don’t suppose you think I didn’t hear that?”

In a dazed stupor, the vixen looked up towards the speaker. “Annandax, you shot that man.”

A muted murmur swept over the bar. A few animals cast concerned looks towards their neighbors. Annandax sighed, looking towards the ground as if he were disappointed, then continued, “The Fangdyne Tystwole isn’t wrong. The man in question was a hunter, it seemed, who happened to stumble across the Oigd’yiadttigdeit. But I assure you, fox, as well as the rest of the crowd, that he was well past the point of saving. Even if the Apothecaries here were able to reverse that curse-” He was correct in assuming that I lacked that ability- “We could not have carried him through the kilometers of forest, and even if we were directly near any vehicle, he would not have survived the drive here, if it were left to me to predict such things. Was my decision cruel? Yes. But a quick cruelty is always more tolerable than a drawn-out, ephemeral hope. I trust that you understand, Florence. Things in the world can often be cruel.”

Florence simply stared back, dumbfounded. Her breathing was shallow, almost as if she were hyperventilating while trying to hide it. A slowly kindled rage burned behind her sharp eyes, and I could even see her hackles threaten to raise in a verbal rebuke, but no such response came. “I need to be outside.”

“I apologize, but I hardly need your approval. Moving on, I shall most likely remain here as Foulgydan Copperarm takes over in my stead, I’ve been in the cold for too long…”

I followed Florence out into the snowy parking lot, hugging myself tightly as I realized that I left my coat inside. My spores could brave the cold for a little while. Instead of turning tail to retrieve it, though, I followed the fox as she stormed towards the treeline, staring into the nocturnal abyss as she often did. “Hey, Florence, what happened? What are you doing here?”

“He just- He killed that beaver. He was begging for his life, and- and-” I turned to face the vixen. I imagined that I’d see tears if it weren’t for the fact that snow already clung to the fur on her face, melting softly and adding beads of moisture impossible to discern from tears.

“Hey, Florence. I’m here.” I had no training in therapy, but offered the first thing I could think of; a therapeutic trick I think I saw employed in fiction somewhere. “Focus on five things you can see-”

Florence snapped with sudden anger. “Snow, trees, you, me, a parking lot. I just saw someone die, Forseti, shut the fuck up with your- With that.” But her anger melted like the snow on her face, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

I didn’t let the rage get to me. “No, it’s OK. It’s OK. Annandax shot someone who was cursed?”

“Yeah, he- he had a family, and asked for help, and just- I couldn’t stop him from shooting him-”

“You’re OK, that’s not your fault, that’s-”

“But I should know better!” She slammed a paw against the trunk of a tree. Snow fell on the both of us. “Fuck! Ahh!” The fox then proceeded to maniacally brush the snow off, then collapsed to her knees, emotionally encumbered. “I just- It seems to me that it should- Why couldn’t we have at least tried? He probably would have died, but we can’t- I trust that people are good and want to help, you shouldn’t just kill people. I- I-” The fox proceeded to hyperventilate as I went down to her level, unphased by the thick layer of snow that I sunk into, unsure as to whether or not physical touch would be welcome at that moment. I didn’t say anything, I simply offered a paw, which the fox squeezed tightly. “I- I mean I- I don’t know if I can trust people to be good anymore, now that I know my mother- My mother- With so many cubs- Forseti, Marianne somehow got a hold of my mother’s diary and-”

I felt a viscous, chilly spectral hand grip my heart. Marianne told her first. “Marianne told you?” I didn’t reveal my knowledge with so many words, but the resigned look on my muzzle was easy enough for the fox to read.

“Forseti, I know you know.”

I nodded solemnly.

“How long did you know?”

“Since Chicago.”

Florence pulled her paw away. I easily predicted that I’d see this betrayed look on her face, directed towards me. I was dreading seeing that look for a week now. And even now that the moment had come, the relief of released anticipation was entirely absent. “It’s just- Of course, you know that my mother was planning on killing me.”

“Yeah, Marianne told me after Touch and I fled from Marsden-”

“And, what? She told you to keep it a secret?” the Sphynx would arrive shortly.

I gulped hard. “No. I kept it a secret myself.”

I saw the claws on Florence’s paw extend fully, as tears and snot started to leak from her face once again. She only weakly asked, “Why?”

“I don’t know, Florence, it’s- I don’t know. I was waiting, for-”

“I thought that was the one thing- the one thing you’d at least- at least try and remember about me. I don’t want to be kept in the dark, ever. My whole life, I’ve been- Forseti-”

“I know, Florence-”

“You know? What do you mean by that? You know that I’d want to know, and you kept it a secret anyway? I put my trust in you, for this one thing, Forseti, this one thing- And with that, and the Fungal Entity- Please just leave me alone, just for right now.”

I had no clue why the vixen brought up the Fungal Entity, but I didn’t dwell on the thought for long. “Florence, the Oigd’yiadttigdeit-”

“Then I’ll go into the bar- I’ll lock myself in the bathroom or something, just don’t follow me.”

And with that, Florence practically ran towards Esu’s, desperate to have me out of her field of view. I didn’t follow. it is not that things like malice or evil are inherited. it is not assumed of the son or a murderous man, that he too shall kill. though nor should the possibility be discounted entirely. the fox will not pursue the immortality of the Archlitch, but was nevertheless forced to learn the lesson of the value of life. the night, in autumn, and pain lies dormant, and life is lived in secret. where it should be that nothing of consequence would transpire.

I only waited a minute. Florence said that she was going to run towards the bathroom, and I assumed I wouldn’t catch her ire if I went into the bar once more to fetch my coat and my phone. But for that one minute, I caught myself staring into the same inky darkness that the other fox so often stared into. What an idiotic thing to put off, all to shield myself from being a witness to this emotional fallout. I had made a close friend, and wanted desperately to keep her safe, but I couldn’t bear to do the only thing that Florence was adamant about asking me to do; to keep no secrets. I aimlessly kicked snow into the wilderness. This was nobody’s fault but my own. I was only glad that Marianne decided to break her habit of secret-keeping. Who knows how much longer I would have put off telling Florence about her mother? And then, Marianne arrived.

Hauksborque Matchstick pulled up in his rusted, moss green van, a vehicle manufactured before I was born. I noticed the immaculate wingspan of a gargoyle extended before I noticed any other passenger. And then, I started suffering from a heart attack.

My chest constricted as though I were choking with my entire body. An intense, burning tightness forced me to my knees, and I heard the Sphynx bellow as she tromped through the snow towards me. “You little bastard, what the fuck were you thinking?”

The constriction stopped as soon as I realized that it was the effect of a spell. Marianne possessed the ability to stop an animal’s heart; the Heartstopper. With a strained, almost choking voice, I replied, “What do- What are you-”

Marianne was now towering over me. “You have no fucking idea what you’ve done-”

I was completely at a loss. I started to hug my knees as I noticed Matchstick, Stoney, Touchstone, and Palais all climb out of the vehicle; the gargoyle taking extra care to hide behind the van in case a Tystwole could see from the road. “Please do me one favor, and explain to me what you think I did, because I don’t think I did it-”

The furless cat pinched her forehead. “Somebody fucking left the temporal key in the keyhole of the door to god-damned Chicago, and now, the Archlitch is here, in Michigan. And you’re the only other animal-”

I thought that Marianne had used her heart-stopping spell a second time. “What did you say?”

“Did you actually not hear me? Or are you being dramatic- You know what? Forget it, I don’t have time.” Marianne turned and trudged towards the entrance of Esu’s.

The coyote and rat were quick to intercept the cat, with Palais swooping in from behind, not so much to back up the Frote Foulgydan, but moreso to protect the two Hauksborque from the cat’s wrath. The avian rogue was the only one to offer a wing-paw and help me to my hindpaws. He was once again able to fully walk. “Someone snuck in from your house and unleashed the Archlitch. We have to find Florence now.” Marianne was verbally abusing the two other animals, “Someone in that fucking room broke into my home, let me in!”

I fixed my gaze grimly towards the bar. “She’s in the bathroom- Touchstone, you’re gonna have to talk to her.”

The bird nodded. “Do you know who did it, fox?”

“I have no clue.”

Touchstone and I made our way to the other animals. Stoney was looking up towards the cat with as menacing of a look as she could muster, while the canine Hauksborque was calmly attempting to soothe her nerves, “Ma’am, just let me talk to The Lady Juxtaposed first.”

The Sphynx noticed me, with daggers in the stead of eyes, “You better take that fox and get the fuck out of here right now, or I’ll personally kill you both.” The threat sounded sarcastic, but I couldn’t shake Lavitia’s accusations from my head.

But I was in no mood to argue. “Got it. Florence is in there, my car’s here. We’ll go immediately.”

I opened the door to see four of Marquette’s Foulgydan standing at the doorway. The other beasts of the Witchmoot took great care to be as far away from the entrance of the establishment as possible, save for one animal, of whom I could only see the shadow. The Lady Juxtaposed was the first to address the Frote Foulgydan, having just read her mind, and apparently finding something to worry about. “Get out of this city, now.”

Marianne growled, “Do you have any fucking clue what-”

“I do,” answered The Lady Juxtaposed. “We’ll conduct this matter ourselves. We’ll remove Forseti and Florence, and we’ll figure out who broke into your home. But you are not welcome in this city. It is only due to these extraordinary circumstances that I don’t kill you on sight.”

The Sphynx was not specifically banished from the city of Marquette, but her reputation was infamous enough to apparently warrant such a threat. But Marianne stood with as menacing of a pose as she could muster. Her back was perfectly straight, and her feline claws were fully extended. But the cat receded from her angry tone of voice, and replied as calmly as she could. She knew that The Lady Juxtaposed’s threats weren’t hollow. She knew that The Lady Juxtaposed could cease a beast’s brain activity quicker than any spell she had at her own disposal. She knew that The Lady Juxtaposed was one of the few animals in which the Sphynx stood no chance against. “If I wanted you all dead, I wouldn’t have bothered to warn you.” The cat stepped forward in the attempt to address the room, but The Lady Juxtaposed counter-stepped, blocking her entry. “But that being said; whoever broke into my home, you deserve to be hanged on the spot. You’ve doomed this entire place.” Marianne dramatically turned away from the awe-struck room, but debased her last line with a question that she couldn’t keep herself from spitting out. “Who the fuck cast the Magic of Silence on me?”

Mulgywai Miguel stepped from his concealment behind the left side of the doorway, looking poised and grim.

“Don’t get cocky, there are so many things I could do to you right now that you can’t stop. But I’ll go. Hauksborque Matchstick, I need a ride, if The Lady Juxtaposed wants me gone so quickly.”

The coyote had a strong will, and failed to succumb to anyone’s displays of intimidation. “I can take you to the airport, or the fox’s house.”

“The fox’s house. His key’s still affixed to the door.” Marianne turned to me one last time before following Matchstick to the van. “You better make god-damned sure you and that fox better fucking follow me to Louisiana if you want to live.”

“I can’t just drive off.”

“It’ll catch up, fox. You need me.” But The Lady Juxtaposed stepped in beside me as Marianne made her point. “Then I will go too.”

“I don’t care.” The Sphynx flung the door-on-rails open and climbed into the back seat of the van.

Touchstone and Florence then materialized out of the corner of my eye, the red-winged blackbird having snuck the fox out from the bathroom instead of working through the crowd. I met with Florence’s eyes, and found them filled with hurt. “How much did you hear?”

“I heard enough, let’s go.” Florence marched off towards my car, seemingly under the impression that we’d be taking it instead of going with Matchstick. Out of the corner of my eye, I heard The Lady Juxtaposed threatening the vulture Mulgywai; “Don’t think I didn’t notice you Silence me. Pray you don’t do it again.” I chose to ignore it. Others were conversing, but I began to only pay attention to the vixen. Touchstone followed behind her, but the fox emotionlessly commanded, “Don’t come with, you can’t help-”

“I want to make sure you and Forsy are safe-”

“No, Touch. It almost killed you last time. Don’t come with.”

I had reached the driver’s side door of my car, and nodded towards the bird in a brotherly manner, wordlessly agreeing to the vixen’s point. The thief looked pained, but returned with a nod of his own, tacking on one last; “Text me as soon as you get to Louisiana.”

Matchstick, Marianne, Palais, and The Lady Juxtaposed started to drive off, and I took my own car, following behind. We weren’t all going to fit inside of one vehicle alone. The argument that Florence and I had was completely pushed towards the back of my mind. I found myself scanning every corner of the surrounding forest for a trace of the arctic fox;s mother’s body, and found myself startled at every little strange shadow that found itself banished by the headlights of my car. The Archlitch was now in Marquette, once again close enough to possess either of our bodies. Once we had made a considerable amount of progress on the main road, Florence eventually questioned me, beleaguered by a dispassionate voice. “To be honest, I only caught the second half of the conversation. The Archlitch is in Marquette now?”

“Yeah, someone snuck into Marianne’s house and let it out. We don’t know who.”

“So you don’t know?” The question wasn’t lacking in snideness. I knew she was accusing me.

I felt myself losing my voice the more tired I became. “No, I don’t know.” but it was a fox.

“So- what? It could just ram into your car right now? Are we safe?”

“No, we’re not safe.” Why hadn’t Marianne just brought the temporal key to Esu’s? “Just keep your eyes out, if you see anything.”

“OK.”

“I’m really sorry about earlier.”

Florence’s reply was drained emotionally. “Forseti, my mother- or, that thing is out there. I’m not really thinking about anything else right now.”

“Heard.” Neither of us felt particularly compelled to keep the conversation going. The snow-covered asphalt eventually turned into dirt the further away we traveled from Marquette’s main roads. The imposing arboreal monoliths on both sides of the road continued hiding incomprehensible threats. The bulky van directly in front accelerated faster than the speed limit allowed. But against all odds, no telekinetic force proceeded in crippling my hatchback, and no biological nightmare happened to find itself caught in the lights of my car. Florence was texting Palais through Marianne’s phone, the passengers of that car also finding themselves similarly lucky enough to avoid imminent calamity.

But no such luck would last. The van in front of us had started to swerve, and almost crashed into the line of trees directly growing up against the thin dirt road. But the coyote Hauksborque was able to wrestle control of the vehicle, and correct its trajectory before getting into an accident. I slowly applied the brakes, and saw what I assumed the driver of the van saw; gnarled, thick pine trees covered in black feathers instead of needles, and with brown fur instead of bark. They even appeared to be breathing, as though they had just grown lungs.

Matchstick stopped the van, and I followed suit. it would be an unfortunate coincidence that the foxes would witness this next scene, or perhaps fortunate after all, that one was there to witness it. The coyote and the Foulgydan were the first to exit the vehicle, and I pulled the keys out from the ignition, with the intention of making a rendezvous. “You should come with, Florence.” I’d seen enough horror movies to know when not to leave someone in a car.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

The Lady Juxtaposed was focusing on one of the furry trees with a serene grace. “I can sense the Oigd’yiadttigdeit here.”

Matchstick looked up towards one of the alien pine trees, lighting a cigarette. “Yeah, me too.”

Marianne then exited the vehicle, “We keep going, ‘til we get the foxes to Louisiana. The Archlitch is far worse than the Oigd’yiadttigdeit, we’ll just need to be careful.”

The Lady Juxtaposed then focused intensely on the Sphynx, but seemed unable to pick up on any deception. “So be it. Drive safely, Hauksborque Matchstick.”

And just then, a feral moose broke through the treeline. Though that was a lie, for the moose was no mere feral creature, and had the hindpaws of a predatorial wolf, an exposed skull, and horns instead of antlers, arbitrarily sharpened. Its fur on its shoulders was covered in barnacles. If one were to come in direct contact with this faux-moose, they’d be sure to die quite quickly.

And just as suddenly as I noticed the creature appear, ready to pounce upon either Florence or I, it dropped dead. The creature crumpled up in a lifeless pile of cursed flesh on the side of the road as soon as I acknowledged that it existed in the first place. The Lady Juxtaposed walked casually over towards it, commanding Matchstick. “Burn the corpse.”

The coyote whistled, impressed. “Sure thing.” The Lady Juxtaposed had just saved our lives, killing the inflicted creature before I could even register what had transpired. She had cut off its brain activity within the span of a second.

“Thank you, The Lady Juxtaposed,” was all I could muster.

The coyote took one last, long drag of his cigarette, but forlornly found himself unable to enjoy the rest of it while well over half of it remained. He pulled out a little container of lighter fluid, doused the corpse of the feral moose in it, and threw his cigarette towards the creature. It went up in flames immediately. The coyote then started up the van once more, and Florence and I quickly climbed back into my own car. Each and every tree seemed as though they had the capacity to hide a similar monster. Every once in a while, my headlights would pick up a strange aberration; trees covered in eyes, trees covered in skin. But despite the increased amplitude of bizarre transformations, neither the Archlitch or the Oigd’yiadttigdeit showed up in person. they were at the house. The all-too-familiar sense of dread wormed itself into my psyche like a maggot burrowing into a soft, rotted apple. I tried to mask my inner panic as much as possible, but couldn’t remove the slight rattle from my voice as I asked, “Hey, text Marianne if you wouldn’t mind. I don’t think we should go to my house.” I didn’t come to a full stop, despite desperately wanting to make a U-Turn as quickly as possible, but I couldn’t just ditch the party ahead of me.

“I can do that,” returned Florence.

“Thank you.” It wouldn’t be long until we were once again at the Foxhole. where both becomes one. Matchstick’s automobile never once slowed in speed.

“Marianne said ‘no.’”

“Call her, if you can. I don’t like this.”

Florence dialed the cat. She picked up immediately. The vixen passed me her phone. I put it on speaker. Marianne spoke before I could state my case.

“Fox, I swear to God, trust me on this.”

“Marianne, I think the Record’s telling me that we need to leave.” it is merely stating what is.

“Well, The Lady Juxtaposed sensed two powerful entities in these woods, so listen to me when I say-”

“Marianne, I think they’re at my house. I think they’re- Or, the Archlitch I guess. It’s setting an ambush.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end. “You picked that up through the Record?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“How far until your house- Oh, Matchstick knows where you live.” The cat had started to speak to the other passengers of her vehicle. “Hey, pull over soon. We need to walk there. Did you get that, fox? Just follow Matchstick.”

“Are you sure?”

“Listen, Forseti, if we turn now, the Archlitch will pursue, and I’m entirely confident that it’ll catch up. We need to get to Louisiana.” Once again, the Frote Foulgydan remained adamant on this one plan. Something about us all being in Louisiana together was important to the Sphynx, and I wasn’t certain that the Archlitch was excluded from the guest list. Marianne continued speaking before I could follow up. “OK then, Matchstick. Pull over here.” On cue, the van slowed and parked in the middle of the dirt road, leaving hardly any room for other vehicles. I slowed down as well. Florence’s eyes were wide and her voice indicated a heavy sense of shock. “Forseti, I don’t like this.”

Marianne’s voice rang from the device. “I’m hanging up now.” I watched as the four passengers climbed out into the snowy wilderness. Florence remained seated.

I tried to offer solace to the other fox. “Hey, if Marianne was up to something, The Lady Juxtaposed would know-”

“The Lady Juxtaposed also wanted me dead at one point. Like the beaver Annandax killed.” Marianne was quick to walk trudge through snow drifts to get to my car.

“I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”

“Forseti, am I going to die?”

yes. “No.”

The rapping of claws on the glass window, and a muffled voice. “We have no time. Get out.”

The coyote led the way, pointing his flashlight towards the ground every so often. He wanted to make sure he could see the road without shining too much light and giving away our position. All were silent. The air was thick with a tension I felt myself choking on. Marianne and The Lady Juxtaposed stood right beside Matchstick. They were easily the scariest magic users in our little party. The bulky gargoyle took up the rear, insisting on protecting Florence and I, should anything sneak up from behind. The trees seemed to breathe as if they had lungs, but no other living creature found itself unfortunate enough to come across the Oigd’yiadttigdeit in this dismal, icy landscape. We kept a considerable distance away from any aberration we came across.

We walked quietly, dutifully, and patiently. And eventually, I could make out the outline of my home with my nocturnal eyes.

And then Florence said. “Oh my God, I see her.”

And sure enough, there, in front of the door to my house, stood the body of Mary Johannson, possessed by the Archlitch, waiting patiently.

Matchstick switched his flashlight off. Everyone ducked immediately. The Archlitch remained, waiting. For a while, no one said a thing. No one could even budge from their position, let alone concoct a plan.

And then, from behind the house, the Oigd’yiadttigdeit crept into view, striding like a daddy-long-legs.

The entity was a pale, five-limbed being, with two legs and three arms. All limbs were segmented and leathery, and ended in a sword-like appendage made of bone. It had no paws or hindpaws, but some segments of the being’s limbs curved upward at the joints, and its lean, thin torso seemed to look almost like plate armor. The straight, bladed segment of its limbs took up more than half of the appendages’ length. The entity’s head was shaped like a praying mantis’s head, a soft triangle with smoothed out points, but it had no visible eyes.

The Archlitch was quick to register this new, unpredictable threat. Perhaps the undying entity was able to deduce that a being such as the Oigd’yiadttigdeit was out prowling the night, or perhaps it was on guard for anything that may visit my house, but in the blink of an eye, the entity possessing the arctic fox brought its paw up and telekinetically thrust the pale monster against a large tree. Instantaneously, the arboreal mass began to melt and change into a fluid, flashing through various states of biological existence, and the Oigd’yiadttigdeit passed through the trees as though they were merely water. The five-limbed creature was still dazed, however, and staggered to its hind-limbs. The Archlitch approached slowly, and brought up its other paw to summon a second telekinetic force, holding the Oigd’yiadttigdeit as if it were in a vice. The pale figure writhed maniacally, and uttered a harrowing scream that sounded like pained whale song. can you kill me? Every single one of us, ephemerally safe in obscurity, were stunned by the horrifying display.

Then, the Archlitch began to casually approach the Oigd’yiadttigdeit as if it were some mere caged feral animal, defanged and declawed. It then pulled out a strange, ornamental brass bauble containing what looked like a crystal that glowed like a blacklight. Marianne recognized it immediately. The Sphynx’s voice then penetrated my ears, sounding as though it was only a few decibels short from a full shout. I had little doubt that the Archlitch and Oigd’yiadttigdeit could hear her. “Florence, Forseti, run!” For it then became clear what was about to transpire. The Archlitch meant to make a bargain with the Oigd’yiadttigdeit, in exchange for immortality. That bauble was the Archlitch’s Phylactery.

Instinct, or panic, overwhelmed me. I gripped tightly to the arctic fox’s paws and ran down the darkened, dirt road, heedless of anything that pursued. Noises like strong winds whirled behind me, but I was too much afflicted with adrenaline to accurately use my senses. I could only barely register that the other fox was running behind me the entire time. There was only one single goal that existed within my mind. I had to get to the car.

Seconds passed, and then years, and I was at the car. I possessed a blessing that Orpheus would have given anything for, and turned around to see that the vixen was, indeed, directly behind me, safe. Yet she, too, also succumbed to the streamlined sense of panic that overrode every single one of my thought processes. I flung the door to my car open, but then noticed another shape running towards us, only ten or so hindpaws away. I stood my ground, readying my spores to kill if I needed to. But then I noticed that the figure was partially a bird, and partially a rabbit; far too asymmetric to be anyone other than The Lady Juxtaposed. For the first time in my entire book, I saw the signs of fear and trauma plastered onto The Lady Juxtaposed’s permanently jarring face, the balaclava now missing.

The Lady Juxtaposed, having apparently jogged for the first time in a long time, desperately caught The Lady Juxtaposed’s breath as The Lady Juxtaposed approached. “Go… Go to Jouxlya.”

`“What do you mean-”

“Enough. I could read your mind this whole time, you blind fool, I was merely doing you a favor.” For concealing the information, that The Lady Juxtaposed knew that I had kept close contact with Jouxlya all this time, even after everything. “I know that she can kill the Oigd’yiadttigdeit. Go, now.”

“But what about-” I didn’t want to kill the strange, five-limbed entity, and The Lady Juxtaposed then gleaned the reason why.

“It does not matter. The Oigd’yiadttigdeit is dead either way. I cannot stop the Shadow. It has no mind.”

I had no time to argue. “OK, we’ll go.”

The Lady Juxtaposed said nothing, simply turning around and running back towards the fray that we’d callously left behind. Florence was already sitting in the passenger seat. I started the car, turned the vehicle around, and peeled off.

For one fleeting moment, in the rearview mirror, I saw the Shadow of a fox, running towards our car with incredible speed, but we were faster.