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Chapter 7: Bloodbath

The Council Chamber was a sort of auditorium on the top floor of City Hall. At the bottom

of the trapezoidal room, there was a long, curved maple desk with a dozen high-backed maple

chairs with maroon cushioned seats. The curve of the desk formed a forty-five degree arc with

the chairs on the inner edge. In front of this, black, plastic rolling chairs were arranged in rows

with one row at the bottom level and two rows each on three step-like tiers that ascended to the

entrances. Two sets of oak double doors were arranged on the left and right ends of the back

wall and led out onto the fourth floor walkway that overlooked the vaulted entrance hall. Rita

could imagine the current Council Chair, a red squirrel whose name Rita couldn't remember,

sitting in the middle seat with her gavel. Assuming she's still alive. Rita wondered how many of

the Council members were still alive. Being prey, the Chair might very well have been eaten, not

that Rita was really concerned one way or the other.

Only a few other cultists, mostly dogs though Rita recognized the wolverine Simon, were

present when she and Judith arrived. Rita ignored their prying gazes as she trotted down the

tiers and around behind the thick maple desk. Hopefully, the front side, which went to the floor,

would protect her during the shootout. She pretended to examine the carved backs of the

Council chairs while they waited; however, Rita kept a careful eye on Judith as well as the

doors.

Judith seemed nervous at first, but as more of the dogs and a few cats filed in, she

visibly grew in confidence, literally standing taller. She nodded confidently as each new cultist

entered and filed down to the bottom of the auditorium. After a few minutes, cultists stopped

entering. Judith waited a couple more minutes, her gaze shifting from the doors to the clock

above the desk and back.

Finally, she shrugged and spoke, "I guess Joshua and his sycophants decided not to

show. He must have realized the math wasn't on his side. I suppose we should take the vote

anyway as a matter of formality, but-"

One of the left side doors slammed open, and the puma strode in. Rita noticed he was

armed for a change, wearing a belt with a handgun and what appeared to be a machete looped

around his hips. Other big cats filed in close behind, and he stood to the left side of the door as

they lined up along the back wall.

"Sorry we were late," he purred smoothly. His eyes met Rita's a moment, and he grinned

knowingly before turning back to Judith.

Judith looked a bit shaken at the sudden influx of Joshua's followers, but she seemed to

assess their numbers and smirked back at him, "I guess you decided to lose like a big kitty after

all," she taunted. "Your cute little stunt doesn't change our numbers."

The puma shrugged nonchalantly, "We'll see."

Rita noticed his followers slowly reaching for their guns, and she knew a signal must be

coming.

The puma went on, "What's really important isn't numbers but loy-"

That's it! "LOOK OUT! THEY'RE GOING TO SHOOT!" Rita screamed.

She dove behind the desk as, predictably, both sides grabbed their guns, and then the

room exploded with gunfire. Rita huddled in a ball as the tumult continued. Cats screeched and

yowled. Dogs barked and howled, and gunshots continued to split through everything. Rita

heard wood burst apart as a bullet slammed into the front of the desk not far from her hiding

spot. The entire exchange lasted less than a minute though it seemed to draw out for several.

As the guns fell silent, a feline voice yowled in horror, "O-oh Zeus! What did, th-that's

everyone! W-what a-are we-"

"Let's get out of here!" a second cat yowled.

Rita heard a door slam open and then silence. If her ears hadn't still been ringing from

the gunshots, she might have heard the rapid patter of paws as the cats raced away. Rita slowly

poked her head up over the desk and winced as her stomach twisted: the bottom level of the

auditorium was littered with the bodies of Judith's followers while the puma's followers were

strewn across the top tier and the tier below, where they had apparently toppled after being

shot. On the bottom level, pools of blood covered the varnished hardwood floor in the narrow

spaces between the prone forms. Rita's stomach lurched as her eyes fell on a coyote just in

front of the desk, the right side of whose face had been blown away to reveal bloody skull and

pink brain matter. Where's Judith?! Trying to ignore the gruesome wounds of the other cultists,

Rita quickly searched for the gray wolf. She spotted her a bit to the right of the center and raced

around the desk. Bounding over limbs, her feet splatting in the pooling blood with each leap,

Rita hurried over to the prone wolf and crouched down to shake her shoulder.

"Judith! Judith, are you okay?!" Rita cried. She felt the wolf's neck: she still had a pulse!

"Judith!" she pleaded, shaking her again. "Say something!"

The wolf cracked open her eyes and winced with a growl of pain. Rita looked down to

where the wolf's left hand was pressed to her side, blood seeping around her fingers.

"Oh, Judith, I-I'm so sorry," Rita whined. "I didn't want this! Just, just stay here! I'll get

help! Y-you won't die! You can still come live with me."

"Sorry?" the wolf growled. She looked at Rita in confusion, but then terrible realization

dawned in her expression, "Y-you did this!" she gasped.

"Shh, just wait here," Rita tried to soothe. She stood and glanced toward the door. "I-I'll

get help. You'll be okay."

Rita heard a snarl and leapt back, only narrowly escaping as Judith lunged, grabbing for

her ankle with her right hand. Rita stumbled as she landed, tripping over the body of the jaguar

Rico, one of the few cats who'd come to support Judith. Rita scrambled to her feet. Judith was

sitting up, her left hand still over her wound but her right hand was reaching for a handgun she

or another of the cultists had dropped in the massacre. Rita snatched up Rico's Uzi from the

floor beside him, swung it toward Judith, and pulled the trigger. BABABABABABAP! The

bullets from the submachine gun tore across Judith's chest, and she collapsed. Dropping the

gun, Rita leapt back over the jaguar. She kicked Judith's handgun away and crouched next to

her. Taking Judith's head in her hands, Rita turned the wolf's head to face her.

"I'm so sorry, Judith. You made me. I didn't want to," Rita whimpered.

The wolf coughed, and blood spurted from her mouth. She glared at Rita hatefully

through narrow amber eyes and growled weakly, "You're fiends, your whole species. I," she

coughed again and spurted more blood. "Never should have trusted-"

"I tried!" Rita cried. "I-I did what I had to! I can still get help! You might be okay!"

The wolf made a sound halfway between a cough and a laugh. "'Okay.' Idiot." She

choked, spitting more blood. "Fuck you." She breathed a ragged gasp, and her eyes rolled back

in her head.

Rita quickly put her hand to Judith's neck: she felt a flutter of a pulse and then nothing.

Rita stared down at the wolf desperately, pleading for her to be alright, but her heart remained

still. Rita turned her head away. Looking down, she noticed the pool of blood her feet and tail

were lying in. Rita stood and turned away, not looking back at the dead wolf. She trudged away

from her, stepping on the jaguar as she went, and bent to retrieve the Uzi. There were at least

two cultists out there, but first she had to check for more survivors.

Rita was fortunate that she was able to handle the big cat's gun. The submachine gun

was a bit awkward in her arms, but it wasn't too long or heavy for her to manage. Presumably,

the jaguar had treated the Uzi as a handgun. Rita held the gun at the ready as she examined

the bodies of the cultists. She used her foot to check for a pulse while cautiously aiming the gun

to kill in case they made any sudden movements.

On the bottom level, Rita only found one dog who was still alive, a white and brown

pitbull, one of the few eugenics experiments of the group. The dog didn't move when Rita

touched her, so as not to waste bullets or alert the remaining cultists of the continued activity in

the chamber, Rita set down the Uzi and pulled the dagger from the pitbull's belt. The blade was

a short sword in Rita's hands. She stabbed it into the pitbull's neck with a double-handed thrust,

opening her jugular. The dog jerked as her blood pumped out onto the already blood-inundated

floor then fell still.

Rita didn't find any of the puma's followers alive. Last of all she stopped by the

enormous tan cat. She poked her foot against his neck to check his pulse, but she didn't really

need to: a ragged hole in the right side of his neck showed where a bullet had torn through his

carotid artery. His glazed yellow eyes stared at the slanted ceiling. Rita stared at the puma,

trying to feel hatred. He'd killed Boots! He was responsible for all of this! Instead, she felt only

mild regret. Rita glanced around the auditorium at all of the predators' bodies. What a waste. All

of these magnificent predators had been cut down for nothing, for madly believing they could

right some imagined wrong. They'd never had a chance of succeeding. But I had to be the one

to make sure they didn't. If it hadn't been her, it would have been someone else, the police,

Frederick and his army; someone would have ended this threat to the Vulpinevan order. I did

what had to be done.

Rita hefted the Uzi over her right shoulder and pushed through the door. She cautiously

stepped to the glass-sided edge of the walkway and peered down into the entry hall: the cultists'

makeshift camp was lifeless. Rita couldn't tell whether the cats who'd escaped had taken

anything with them, but they weren't here. Rita wondered if they'd ever be captured, but as long

as they were gone, that was all that mattered.

Rita took the elevator down to the ground floor. It felt strange after all she'd been through

to be walking out of this place. She never wanted to see it again; she'd return to her estate and

find the servants who'd survived. She'd rebuild her life as it had been and forget all about the

cultists. Rita skirted around the empty tents and cold grills to the massive, brass-handled glass

doors in front. She pushed through and started her way down the cement stairs in front of the

stately red granite hall.

"Stop right there! Drop the gun!" a cat yowled.

Rita halted five steps from the bottom and jerked her head to the left to see a ginger cat

and a raccoon, both in blue police uniform tops, quickly stalking toward her with their handguns

aimed her direction. The cat was average in size, roughly a head shorter than Rita and two-

thirds her weight while the raccoon was about Rita's height. He was, however, somewhat

heavier than Rita as he was a bit overweight with his fluffy, tannish gray belly bulging out under

his jacket. Rita kept the Uzi propped nonchalantly over her shoulder and turned to face the

officers fully.

"Officers! What a fortuitous encounter! I'm in need of a ride ba-"

"I said drop the gun!" the cat cut her off warningly.

Rita cocked her head to the side, "Really, Dear, you don't think I'm one of them, do you?

A fox involved with those troublemakers? Ridiculous! Don't you know who I am?"

The cat and raccoon stared at her for a moment, and then the cat gasped.

"I-it's you!" She didn't lower her weapon. It was a peculiar reaction, one Rita hadn't

expected.

The raccoon reacted more predictably: his brown eyes bulged, the whites contrasting

sharply with his surrounding black mask, and he quickly holstered his firearm and bowed, "Y-

Your Grace, we thought, we heard you'd been taken hostage, Your Grace."

"Indeed, I had been, but-"

"Where are Inspector Bennett and Inspector Brown?!" the ginger cat demanded.

Rita looked toward her in surprise, "You know them?"

"Where are they?!"

Rita shook her head wistfully, "I wish I knew, Dear. We were separated in the attack. I

hate to think they were killed, but I'm afraid I don't know."

The cat blinked in confusion, "Huh?"

"When the cultists took me hostage, Dear. They were my guests until then," Rita

explained patiently.

"Y-your guests?" the cat stammered.

"Guests, pets, however you want to call them, I had grown quite attached to those two. If

you happen to see them, please send them my way."

The cat slowly lowered her gun and glanced at the raccoon, who was looking at the cat

in confusion.

"She, the missing inspectors were with Her Grace? How, why didn't-"

"Not now, Lance," the cat cut him off. She turned back to Rita, "It seems you escaped.

How? We heard gunshots, a lot of them. Where are the terrorists?"

"Dead," Rita answered mildly. "Well, two got away, but I doubt they'll be any trouble on

their own."

"What did they look like? The ones who escaped, I mean," the cat inquired.

"They were cats of some sort."

The ginger cat rolled her kelly green eyes, "Can you be more specific?"

"I'm afraid not, I was keeping out of sight at the time. You'll find the rest in the council

chamber."

"The dead ones."

"Precisely."

"What happened? They turned on each other?"

"With a few prods from me," Rita stated matter-of-factly. "Let that be a lesson to you: if

you think you've caught a fox, it's more likely you who's been captured. They may have taken

me hostage, but that was their downfall!" Rita finished smugly for the benefit of her underlings.

The police were her employees after all.

"Y-you saved the city!" the raccoon gasped.

Rita smiled self-satisfiedly; she liked the sound of that.

"What about the other hostages?" the cat redirected.

"Oh, yes, I'd forgotten about them. I suppose some may still be alive. It's my

understanding the Mayor has been devoured though, quite a tragic loss."

"Where are they?" the cat pressed.

"I haven't a clue. In there somewhere, I suppose. I'm sure you'll manage to find them. If

one of you could fetch a ride for me, I wish to return to my estate."

"The roads are barricaded," the cat stated. "I'm sure they'll be open by tomorrow or the

next day. In the meantime, you can help us find the other hostages. I assume you at least have

an idea of where they aren't."

Rita sighed resignedly, "Very well. What should I call you by the way?"

"Officer Letova and Officer Smith," the cat answered, indicating herself and the raccoon

in turn.

"Please, Officer, there's no need for such formality, your given names."

"Katya and Lance."

"A pleasure to meet you," Rita greeted politely.

"And you, Your Grace!" the raccoon replied, bowing again. "A pleasure and an honor!"

"What do we call you?" the cat asked.

"Your Grace," Rita answered.

The cat frowned. Rita noted it but pretended not to, maintaining an amiable smile. This

one had some reason to distrust her. Rita couldn't remember having seen her before, but if

she'd known Jason and Ellie, perhaps someone had leaked their final destination to her. I need

to speak with the chief of police about this when I see her.

"I heard you had also been attacked," Rita replied mildly. "Did the chief survive?"

"Officer Schulz is fine," the cat answered.

Rita smiled warmly, "Glad to hear it. Send her my way the next time you see her if you

would."

The ginger cat nodded.

Rita swung around on the stairs, "Right! Let's go rescue those hostages!"

The officers followed her as they searched the large hall. At last, they found a locked

office on the third floor. Rita gestured toward the door.

"Stand back," the cat instructed. She pulled out her gun and shot the lock. She shoved

the door, and it swung in.

Inside, five haggard faces turned to stare at them fearfully: a long-furred brown tabby; a

long-furred black, light brown and white chihuahua; a stoat; a gray fox; and, surprisingly, a red

squirrel Rita recognized as the Council Chair. They were tied in pairs back-to-back and seated

on the floor, except for the red squirrel who was tied to the heavy office desk. Upon seeing the

officers, they cried out in joy and relief.

"I-is it over?" the brown tabby cried.

The ginger cat nodded, "They're dead."

"Thank Zeus! Oh, thank Zeus!" she wailed.

"Pits of Tartarus! I didn't think my ears would suffer more when we were freed than when

we were captured!" the chihuahua tied to her growled.

The officers set about untying the hostages. Rita helped by untying the red squirrel,

crouching to untie the tiny squirrel from the leg of the desk.

"I'm terribly sorry about your colleagues," Rita murmured. "I guess the Mayor didn't make

it."

"I-it was horrible!" the squirrel cried. "She was with us until only this morning! We were

tied together. Then that beast came in and untied her and just, just ate her! Just shoved her in

his mouth! I could hear her bones crunching! She didn't even have time to scream!"

Rita picked up the diminutive squirrel under her arms and hugged her tightly to her chest

so that she wouldn't see her trying not to laugh, "Dreadful! You poor dear! You're safe now."

"What happened?" the gray fox inquired. "You said they're dead. How?"

"Her Grace outwitted them!" the raccoon responded in amazement. "She turned them

against each other!"

"It wasn't difficult, really," Rita put in. She crouched to set the squirrel down.

The gray fox shook his head in wonderment, "You saved us," he breathed. "You're a

hero!"

"Three cheers for the Duchess!" the stoat chirped. "Hip Hip Hooray!"

The rest of the Council and the raccoon joined her, "Hip Hip Hooray! Hip Hip Hooray!"

Rita beamed at her subjects, "I merely did my duty to Vulpineva," she replied in a

humble tone, though she was feeling very pleased with herself indeed. "I wish you the best of

luck in putting Maplesburg back in order after this chaos."

"You should help us!" the gray fox chirped.

Rita turned to him curiously.

"Er, what I meant, Your Grace, was that we could use your leadership," he explained

nervously. "With, without the Mayor and only five of us-"

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Rita mollified. "Ms., uh," she looked down at the red squirrel

embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, Dear, I've quite forgotten your name," she murmured apologetically.

"Heather Fletcher," the squirrel answered.

"Ms. Fletcher will take charge," Rita finished.

"Your Grace," the squirrel responded. "I would appreciate your help. I think we all would

like Terrance said. I don't have the administrative experience to be acting Mayor, and the

Council still needs a Chair."

Rita contemplated their offer a few moments. Acting Mayor. Absurd! Why should I stoop

to such a position?! On the other hand, she was in charge already. She usually left things to the

elected officials, but if they couldn't handle them, if they were begging her to take charge, well,

then she really had no choice. If home is still standing, it can wait a little longer. "It seems my

duty to Vulpineva is not finished," she concluded. "Whilst you prepare for an election to replace

your fallen colleagues, I shall take charge! I will restore order to Maplesburg!"

"Thank you, Your Grace," the squirrel replied, sounding relieved.

Rita nodded. She was already taking to the notion; myriad ideas were stirring in her

mind. This was her chance to address the decadence of the city, to show the citizenry the

proper way to conduct themselves. The manor could wait; Maplesburg needed her attention.

* * *

Rita strolled through the entry hall with Heather and Lance. The other council members

had returned home to find their families, and Katya had departed to inform the other officers

about the end of the occupation. Lance was now carrying the Uzi, which Rita had offered him,

and Heather was holding a pen and notepad. The squirrel walked next to her, and Rita

sauntered along at a relaxed pace to allow her to keep up. If Rita's bushy tail hadn't gotten in

the way, the tiny squirrel might have easily dashed between her legs with only a slight duck for

her tufted ears. Heather scribbled furiously as Rita described the accommodations she would

require as the Interim Governor--as Rita had decided her position should be denoted--of

Maplesburg.

"All of this needs to be cleared away, of course," Rita stated, motioning to the cultists'

encampment. "As well as the bodies in the Council Chamber though I suppose the police may

handle that--make sure they do." She stopped and surveyed the marble columns and

staircases of the expansive, vaulted-ceilinged room. "I would like my throne to be in the middle

of the back there," she pointed toward the back wall of the entry hall. "Raised somehow, I

should think, perhaps on a pink marble platform with three or four steps in a sort of pyramid.

One of the chairs from the Council Chamber will do."

"A, a throne, Your Grace?" the red squirrel asked nervously.

"I need somewhere to sit whilst I hear the pleas of my subjects," Rita stated matter-of-

factly. "Rip up all of that awful carpet on the walkways and replace it with marble tiles to match

the floor down here while you're at it, and speaking of carpet, I should like a long red--no, too

cliché--a long indigo carpet leading from my throne to the doors."

"Are, are these priorities, Your Grace?" Heather asked hesitantly.

"They are of the utmost priority!" Rita responded decisively.

"Um, when should we have the changes in place?"

"As soon as possible. By tomorrow, preferably. I understand if the walkways take a few

days."

"I'll see what I can do, Your Grace."

Rita glanced back at Lance following a short distance behind with the Uzi held across his

chest: the raccoon looked ready to spring into action at the first sign of danger. Rita didn't

expect the escaped feline cultists to return, but Lance hadn't been so sure.

Rita turned back to Heather, "I'm also in need of attendants, servants and bodyguards of

my own. I can't keep you and Officer Smith when the city is already at a shortage of both council

members and police. Put out a request and let it be known that any who show promise may find

permanent employment at Belmont Manor when this is over."

"This is going to be temporary then, Your Grace?" the squirrel clarified, concerned.

"Yes, of course. I have no intention of remaining in Maplesburg. I wish to return to my

estate, but I've decided to help you here for the time being."

The squirrel breathed a sigh of relief, "Right, thank you again, Your Grace."

Rita described other necessities for her throne room: a Vulpinevan flag and the royal

seal above her throne, attendants to escort supplicants to her throne, and a court recorder to

take down her decrees.

"And of course, I shall need something decent to wear and a place to stay," Rita

concluded.

"I can take you shopping when the stores reopen," the squirrel offered. "As for a place to

stay, the Regina hotel is only a block away."

"I suppose it will have to suffice," Rita replied.

The squirrel led them to the hotel, which fortunately was open.

Rita turned to address the raccoon, "You may leave us, Lance. We should be fine from

here."

"Are you sure, Your Grace?" he asked worriedly.

"Perfectly. Those cultists are probably halfway to Prairie Meadows by now."

He held out the Uzi, "Do, uh, you want this back?"

Rita shook her head, "I never want to see it again. Have it properly disposed of. I don't

believe it's legal."

The raccoon gave a quick bow, "Yes, Your Grace."

Rita turned to the glass doors of the towering limestone hotel, which appeared older than

City Hall or, in fact, any of the surrounding buildings. The royal seal had been carved into the

stone above the doors, and while it normally depicted a crowned fox sitting on a throne with a

sword--point resting on the floor--in their right hand and holding a scale on the arm of the

throne in the other, the carving had been eroded almost beyond recognition. Rita didn't look

back to observe the raccoon's departure as she pulled the corroded copper handle.

Inside, the high-ceilinged entryway stretched out in front of Rita and the squirrel.

Polished tan and brown tiles led to a pair of shiny brass elevators at the far end. On the right,

was the long, varnished oak check-in counter and heavy oak doors leading into staff areas of

the hotel, and on the left, there was a larger-than-life bronze statue of King Frederick followed

by tables that appeared to be the seating for the hotel's restaurant. The entryway was lit by an

enormous crystal chandelier with hundreds of cut-glass shards that sparkled with the crisp light

of the candelabra bulbs. As Rita and Heather stepped through the doors, the striped skunk

behind the counter dashed out from his post and over to greet them. He was wearing a pale

pink button-up shirt with double-breasted pockets and a string tie.

"Inside! Miss, get inside! It's not safe for ladies such as yourselves out there!" he urged.

Rita let the door close but regarded the skunk annoyedly; while he was certainly larger

than the red squirrel, the cat-sized mustelid was at least a head shorter than her. "We're fine,"

she replied tartly. "Besides, the cultists have been dealt with, in no small part due to myself, I

might add. I'm here to book a room for my stay while I sort out this mess you've all fallen into."

The skunk slowed to a stop about halfway from the counter and blinked at them before

his visage lit up with recognition, "Y-Your Grace!" He dashed toward them again and dropped to

one knee in front of Rita, snatching her right hand and pressing the top to his lips. "It's an honor,

Your Grace," he breathed. "I always hoped you'd visit my humble establishment one day!"

Displeased with his presumptiveness, Rita withdrew her hand from the skunk's grasp, "I

see. I assume you have fitting accommodations somewhere then, yes?" she inquired, a bit too

haughtily to be considered polite.

"Yes, Your Grace! Fit for the King himself! I inspected the royal suite myself only this

morning! My name's Clyde by the way, Clyde Montgomery."

Rita nodded, "Very well, show us the way, Clyde."

He stood and peered behind them confusedly, "Your bags, Your Grace? Did you leave

them outside?"

"Shockingly, the cultists didn't allow me to pack before they kidnapped me," Rita replied

irritatedly. "Be so kind as to show us the way and bring a menu if you're serving. I'm looking

forward to a proper meal." She glanced down at Heather. "I assume you could use one too, yes,

Dear?"

The squirrel nodded, "I'm famished! They barely fed me after I refused to eat someone's

flesh!"

Rita bobbed her head in acknowledgement, "Right, after I check that the room is

acceptable, we'll want a table for two."

The skunk nodded eagerly, "Yes, Your Grace! I'll see to it personally that you're taken

care of during your stay!"

The skunk led them to the elevator and pressed the button for the twelfth floor. "The

royal suite is right at the top, Your Grace," he told her. "We don't rent it to anyone of less regal

personage than yourself."

"You must never rent it then," Rita stated boredly.

The skunk didn't seem bothered by her uninterested tone, "Indeed, we rarely do, Your

Grace. This is the first time since I took over from my father, but it's cleaned daily nevertheless,

and I inspect it personally."

The skunk led them down the hall and opened the room with a keycard he then handed

to Rita. Rita was prepared to be disappointed, so she was pleasantly surprised that the room

appeared quite adequate. The floor was a white marble tile, and the walls were painted pale

rose with dark brown baseboards and matching crown molding between the walls and white

ceiling. The queen-size canopied bed dressed with a red-violet comforter was on the middle of

the left wall, and tall windows on the far wall looked down onto the block where the red granite

facade of City Hall stood out among the more mundane office buildings. There was a dark

walnut closet on the near side of the bed and a long dark walnut dresser on the right wall. Both

matched the bed frame, and matching doors on either end of the right wall extended the already

large hotel room. Rita could see that the closer door led to a bathroom with both bathtub and

shower.

"The door at the other end leads to the servants' quarters," the skunk informed her. "Will

you have more attendants arriving, or will it just be the one?"

It took Rita a moment to realize he meant Heather.

"I'm not-" Heather began.

"This is the Chair of City Council, Ms. Fletcher," Rita corrected. "I don't have any

attendants with me at this time."

The skunk almost choked on the embarrassment of his mistake, "Gah! Erhem, m-my

apologies, Ma'am."

"Don't worry about it," Heather dismissed.

"What about the menu?" Rita reminded.

"There's a menu on the dresser," he replied. "Should I expect you downstairs

imminently?"

Rita glanced at Heather, who nodded. "Yes, we'll be down in a few minutes," Rita

answered.

"Excellent, let me know if you need anything at all!" the skunk bowed then turned and

hurried out of the room, his fluffy striped tail bouncing along the floor behind him.

Rita turned back to Heather, "I hope you don't mind my keeping you, Dear. Dinner will be

on me of course, but if you wish to return home to find your family instead, I shan't be offended."

"I'm single," Heather replied. "Besides, Officer Letova said that the prey had evacuated. I

might be the only prey in the whole city."

"Dear me, just you with all us predators," Rita jested. "Hopefully, you aren't too terrified."

Heather smiled, "Not since you saved us, Your Grace. I'll admit I was terrified before you

arrived; I would have been mad not to be. But all I feel now is relief, especially since you agreed

to stay and help us recover. I know we're going to put things back the way they should be and

even better than before, since now those maniacs aren't lurking wherever they came from."

Rita smiled warmly, "I agree. This is an opportunity to put Maplesburg on the right path.

This shouldn't have happened, and we'll make sure it doesn't happen ever again."

Heather held out her hand for Rita to shake--or rather held it up. Rita bent down and

lifted the squirrel, seating her on her left arm, then shook her hand with her right.

Heather seemed a little embarrassed at being picked up, but she smiled and chirped,

"I'm looking forward to working with you, Your Grace."

"And I with you. I think we're going to get along splendidly. Now let's examine the menu

and then head down to dinner."

Rita decided on chicken dumplings with sides of green beans and baked yam. She

wasn't eager to eat a meat-heavy meal after eating nothing but the past few days. The cultists

may have been correct that prey tasted a bit better than the lab meat, but they'd also seemed to

have an oddly restricted diet, as if in their zeal to consume prey, they neglected to complement

with anything else.

Rita was glad the ordeal was over; while she'd felt a deep sense of loss immediately

after Judith had died, that feeling had already faded to a dull ache, something she could easily

ignore. The wolf had been as deranged as the rest; she had merely taken a liking to Rita. Rita

had become attached to her as well, but she recognized their budding friendship had been

based on a lie. The wolf had thought Rita willing to help the cultists achieve their goals, at least

to some degree. She would have never been able to accept that deception had she survived, so

perhaps it was good that she hadn't. Of course the fact that the wolf had spent her last moments

cursing and trying to kill Rita helped to blunt the sharpness of her loss substantially. If Rita had

had an affection for the wolf, her instinct for self-preservation was much stronger.

She and Heather soon arrived in the dining area; an oaken table for two near the front

wall had been prepared with delicate white plates, sparkling silverware and glasses, and light

pink cloth napkins. Rita dropped into her seat, and Heather leapt up into hers. As she sat, only

the tufted tips of the red squirrel's ears showed above the table. Rita frowned.

"There must be a more suitable chair somewhere," Rita commented. She glanced

around the room and spotted the skunk scurrying out from the back. Rita pointed toward

Heather, "We could use a squirrel-size seat here!" she called.

The skunk halted and darted his head back and forth before he apparently found an

appropriate seat. He raced to grab it and awkwardly waddled over to their table, setting the seat

beside Heather's with a breath of relief. "Sorry, Ma'am."

"Don't worry about it," Heather dismissed. She hopped down so that he could exchange

the chairs then climbed up the side of the new chair, which placed the table appropriately at her

chest level.

"Have you had time to decide?" the skunk queried.

"I'll have the chicken dumplings with the baked yam and green beans," Rita stated.

"I'd like the roasted walnut and apricot medley and the house salad with blue cheese

dressing," Heather answered.

The skunk nodded, "Excellent choices! Anything to drink besides water?"

Rita glanced at Heather, "How about a nice bottle of wine? We should celebrate our

freedom, don't you think?"

"As long as you're paying," Heather jested.

Rita turned to the skunk, "Bring us a bottle of your nicest merlot."

He bowed slightly, "Yes, Your Grace!" He hurried away.

Rita turned back to the squirrel, "While we celebrate our freedom, we should also

remember your fallen colleagues," she stated solemnly.

Heather nodded slowly, "I, I almost can't believe they're gone," she murmured sadly.

"Deidre and I were good friends; she was down to Earth for a bird. And she tried to keep us

cheerful, even after they ate the other prey. She said we'd be rescued; I wish she could have

been right about herself too."

"I can't say I knew her well. We'd talked several times and met a few, but we never

talked about anything personal," Rita admitted. "But I understand how hard it is to lose

someone. I lost my manservant and guards when the cultists attacked the manor, and I don't

even know what happened to the others. I hope they're alright; they're more like family than

servants to me."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. We shouldn't have allowed something like that to happen. We

should have had people monitoring dangerous cults like this one," Heather apologized.

"It's no more your fault than mine," Rita declared. "I'm responsible for the safety of

Maplesburg and the whole region. I should have known these groups existed. I thought they

were old-wives' tales."

"So did I," Heather murmured. "I guess this is what it's like finding out your nightmares

are real." She straightened in her seat and looked at Rita resolutely. "And that's why we're going

to make sure it never happens again! We won't allow this to be a recurring nightmare!"

Rita nodded. She was beginning to like the red squirrel. She was resilient; she'd been

through Tartarus and seen her friends and colleagues killed, but it hadn't broken her. Like Rita,

she was prepared to do her duty to Vulpineva to rectify the damage of this atrocity.

The skunk returned shortly with the green bottle and pair of wine glasses. He uncorked

the bottle and poured them each a glass. Rita noticed he'd neglected to bring a smaller glass for

the squirrel, but she smiled politely and nodded when he asked if he should leave the bottle.

Once he was gone, Rita examined her wine, lifting the glass to peer through the ruby liquid and

then sniffing it before taking a satisfying gulp. Poor Heather was forced to stretch herself up and

tilt the tall glass with both hands cupping the bowl to take a sip.

"Should I ask for another glass?" Rita inquired.

"No, it's okay," Heather replied.

"He seems a bit incompetent," Rita remarked. "I hope the chef is less so."

"I've heard good things about the food," Heather assured her. "But if it's not to your

liking, I'll try to think of someplace else you might enjoy."

"Thank you, Dear." Rita took another sip of her wine to encourage the squirrel to drink

more as well. "Now, tell me a bit about yourself. It's good to be familiar with those you'll be

working closely with, I've found."

The squirrel took another gulp of her wine as Rita had hoped; it never hurt to loosen the

lips of someone she needed to control. Rita wanted to know what the squirrel really thought, not

what she thought the Duchess would want to hear.

"There's not much to tell. I'm just an ordinary Vulpinevan."

"You went to university somewhere, I assume," Rita prompted.

"Mm-hm, UNV." She took another sip of the wine. "This is really good."

"It is quite nice. Have as much as you want; there's plenty more," Rita encouraged

warmly. "So, University of Northern Vulpineva, a fine school, so I've been told. What did you

major in?"

"Political science and philosophy." She took another drink, and Rita took a small sip in

solidarity.

"Double-majored then. Maybe we should talk philosophy sometime."

Heather chuckled lightly, "Heheheh, if you want to, Your Grace. I might be a little rusty

though. I haven't had much time for it in the past, what, twenty years?" She took a gulp of wine.

"Ahh, it turns out it doesn't have much relevance when you're figuring out how to raise money to

pay for road work or whether the parks would benefit from more landscaping."

Rita realized those twenty years since undergrad made the squirrel some years older

than her, but she didn't comment on the fact. She didn't want the City Council member to think

she was inexperienced whether she had any experience running a city or not, which of course

Rita didn't. Instead, she took the bottle and topped off both of their glasses.

"And what did you do before you were first elected to the council?" Rita inquired.

"I was a civil rights attorney at one of the local firms, Mahler and Mendelssohn."

"Interesting," Rita responded with genuine interest. "What kinds of cases did you take?"

"Mostly workplace discrimination. The past few days are an extreme example, but a lot

of predators think they can take advantage of prey. They see them as weak and compliant, so

we saw a lot of cases of predators trying to make their prey employees work extra hours for no

pay or overlooking them for promotions for example."

"It's terrible that some people have such backwards attitudes," Rita replied with a slow

sympathetic shake of her head. "Is that what made you want to run for City Council?"

She nodded, "I felt like I'd be able to address those issues more directly in government. I

think we've made some progress over the past several years. I just hope this disaster doesn't

erase that."

Rita nodded to show her agreement though, truthfully, she didn't care one way or the

other. The cultists had thought predators were oppressed. Heather thought prey were

oppressed. Rita assumed Heather was the more reasonable, but the ruling vulpines were above

such strife. As long as order was maintained, that was what mattered. The cultists had been a

threat to order; ensuring fairness in the workplace wasn't.

Before long, the skunk brought their meals. Rita found hers satisfactory, and Heather

also seemed to enjoy hers. Rita continued to chat with Heather, taking her turn to discuss her

own history, or at least the parts the squirrel would find palatable. Rita painted a romantic

picture of life on her estate. Meanwhile, she encouraged Heather to continue to enjoy the

merlot, topping off her glass a second time. Even one glass would have been excessive for the

diminutive squirrel, and Rita could tell she was quite drunk by the end of the meal.

"You're welcome to visit any time," Rita concluded cheerfully.

Heather grinned, showing her large incisors. "Heehee, I, urp, might take you up on that,

Your Grace."

Heather reached for her glass and bumped it by accident, causing it to wobble

dangerously. Only Rita's quick reflexes saved it from toppling over. Rita helpfully tilted the glass

so that the squirrel could take another gulp.

Heather took a long gulp and sat back, "Urp, I think I should head home. See you

tomorrow, Your Grace."

Rita put on a concerned look, "Perhaps I should escort you. It's quite late, and you

certainly can't drive yourself."

"No, I'll be, urp, okay. Thanks for dinner." She tried to climb down from the chair only to

fall, landing on her rear, "Oof!"

Rita jumped up from her seat and scooped the red squirrel up off the floor, cradling her

in her left arm, "Are you okay, Dear?!" she yelped.

"Y-yeah, just, just a little tipsy. I'll be okay," Heather muttered embarrassedly.

She tried to sit up, but Rita pushed her back down with her free arm and placed it over

top of the squirrel who squirmed, kicking her legs out around Rita's top arm.

"I insist you stay with me!" Rita enjoined. "You're in no state to wander about, especially

as the only prey in the city! If those two cultists are still about, they'd snatch you up in an

instant!"

Heather continued to struggle, but Rita carried her to the elevator and up to the room.

She took her back into the servants' quarters, which had three beds and a small bathroom at

the far end. Only one bed had sheets. Rita pulled back the white sheet and tan blanket and

lowered the squirrel into bed. Heather quickly sat up, but Rita pushed her back down as she

pulled the blankets over her. She held the squirming squirrel down with one hand on her chest.

"Would you like me to tie you up?" Rita scolded. "You can get up to use the bathroom.

Otherwise, I don't expect to see you out of bed until morning!"

Heather stopped struggling and looked up at her embarrassedly, "I-I'm sorry, Your

Grace. I shouldn't have drunk so much," she murmured.

Rita petted her head with her free hand, "Never mind, Dear," she soothed. "I'll look after

you. Are you comfortable?"

Heather nodded.

Rita petted her head again. "Get some sleep. I'll be in the other room if you need me."

Rita trotted to the door, and glanced back to smile reassuringly before she pulled it shut,

closing the squirrel inside. If Rita wanted, she could tie the door so that Heather wouldn't be

able to pull it open. The idea tickled her, but she restrained herself. She still needed to work with

the squirrel, for now. Rita didn't think she'd kill the squirrel in any case, but if Ellie and Jason

had been killed, Heather might make a nice replacement pet.

Rita took a needed shower, checked to make sure Heather was still in bed, then climbed

into her own. The soft mattress felt wonderful after the nights on the hard floor, and she

snuggled down under the covers with a contented sigh. Tomorrow, she'd get to work fixing

Maplesburg; it was a big job. But someone has to do it! The citizens of Maplesburg were

fortunate to have such a magnanimous Duchess!