The Heart of a Fox

by T. Isilwath

  “Only when Troi was driving,” she quipped.

  He snickered and shook his head.

  “What? He dragged me to Generations when it opened,” she complained.

  Norman laughed, then sobered. “I am glad that you relaxed when I came out. There is always a risk, but in your case I felt it was a minimal one.” She didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t be too revealing so she opted to shrug. “You should have learned from Norman that most Natives have a different view of the world.”

  “As do most indigenous peoples, but that itself can be dangerous.”

  “Do you have a name?” she asked suddenly.

  “That humans can pronounce? Yes. My name is Ta’ahl.”

  “Hello, Ta’ahl. I’d introduce myself, but I believe we’ve already met.” He smiled. “I believe we have. Norman is very fond of you.” She looked around worriedly. “Is it safe for you to talk here? We are on a military base. Unless…”

  “Unless they already know about me?” Ta’ahl finished for her. “Only those who share my secrets themselves are aware of my presence. There are a few here, but not too many. We usually recognize each other and act accordingly.

  There are rules and protocols to follow when we meet another non-human. As for safety, these trees have a low-level shielding spell on them that keeps our conversations private.”

  “That’s good to know,” she commented.

  He nodded. “Yes. Privacy and secrecy are essential for those like me. We guard our truths carefully.”

  “I can imagine that it would be vital to your survival.”

  “More than you realize, Ms. Tindall, which is why I have chosen to speak with you. You are Gifted, but untrained, and that is very dangerous. You need to find a teacher to help you control and understand your Gifts,” he warned.

  She shook her head and started to protest, but he stopped her.

  “You have seen something of the hidden world. I can tell. There is a look in your eyes that tells me you’ve had contact with non-humans. You will attract attention from those who fear you because you’ll recognize them. That alone is enough to get yourself killed.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is there someone you can turn to for help?”

  “Like who?”

  “A powerful Medicine Man or Woman could probably help you.” She gave it some thought. She was intending to speak to Akihiro anyway, and since he was the one responsible for her contact with the non-human world, she could take up the subject with him.

  “There might be someone I can talk to,” she said.

  He nodded. “If not, I know a Hopi Shaman who can help, but you would have to go to New Mexico.”

  “I think I’m ok, but I’ll keep it in mind. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. We should be getting back. It’s almost 1230 hours.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, moving to stand.

  Ta’ahl stood as well and gave her a little nod of his head.

  “I’ll stay out for a while to keep guard. Norman is somewhat Gifted, otherwise our partnership would not be possible, but he is not as attuned to subtle shifts in energy patterns as I,” he told her.

  “Okay.”

  She followed him back to the building and allowed him to lead her up to Colonel Pyle’s office. As they were exiting the elevator, she heard Ta’ahl breathe in sharply, and then he put out a hand to grasp her elbow.

  “What is it?” she questioned, sensing his distress.

  “Someone I was not expecting,” he replied carefully.

  “Who?” she asked, but he gave her a slight shake of his head to silence her.

  His eyes were focused on the corridor, and he’d stopped walking as if listening or waiting for someone, or something, to appear. He tensed and a moment later Signore Neramorte came walking around the blind corner. Ta’ahl tightened his grip on her elbow and pulled her closer.

  “Ahh, Ms. Tindall,” the black-haired Italian said smoothly, a sly smile on his lips. “Colonel Pyle told me that you were coming in today.” His eyes examined her dispassionately. “You are looking very well.” She tried to return his cold gaze, but there was something about him that made her shudder.

  “Yes, thank you. I’m doing pretty good.”

  “Excellent, Ms. Tindall. I am glad to hear that. Now if you will please excuse me, I must be going.”

  “Yes, please do,” Ta’ahl commented, an edge to his voice.

  If she hadn’t known he wasn’t Norman beforehand, she certainly did now.

  Private Begay was terrified of Mr. Black Death, and would not meet his eyes, but Ta’ahl showed no fear. In fact, he met Neramorte’s wry look with a challenging stare. They regarded each other in silence while she began to feel more and more uncomfortable as the tension between them rose.

  She looked at the tall foreigner and had a brief flash of memory. Creasing her brow, she tried to force herself to remember, and a moment later she felt something “click” and release as a flood of memories came rushing back. She remembered Neramorte sitting in the chair across from her bed at Fort Bragg in the middle of the night. He had taunted her, insulted her, and there had been a terrible sense of Fear that she’d had to overcome. He’d made her believe that Akihiro was dead, and then said that he would make her forget…

  The tension between the two men broke suddenly as Signore Neramorte looked her way and gave her a wry smile, flashing wolf teeth that were a little too long.

  “I am sure I will see you again soon, Ms. Tindall. Ciao.” He pushed past them and Ta’ahl watched him until he disappeared around another corner.

  “He isn’t human, is he?” she whispered.

  “You already know the answer to that question,” Ta’ahl replied, his eyes still focused on the corner where Neramorte had turned.

  “Norman is afraid of him.”

  “Yes, and he delights in frightening people. Me, I’m too old to be frightened by bullies who enjoy tormenting those weaker than them.”

  “He made me think that someone I loved was dead.”

  “Hmm,” was all Ta’ahl had to say in answer.

  “Did you make the medicine bundle to protect me from him?” Ta’ahl gave a mirthless laugh. “No. That was Norman, but I let him do it. I knew there was very little that could protect you from the likes of him. We’re just lucky that his days of rampage and destruction are over. Although I have no doubt that he longs for the glory days, or in his case, the gory days.” She gave her own humorless grunt and nodded. “He doesn’t strike me as the warm, fuzzy type.”

  “Ah. No. Definitely not.”

  “What is he?”

  “You’re not ready to know,” he replied soberly, taking her arm again and guiding her down the hall.

  “He said he would make me forget, and for a while I did, but just now when I was looking at him, I remembered everything,” she commented with surprise.

  “Hmmm. That’s interesting.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it means low-level set spells don’t work on you. That’s something your teacher will need to know,” he told her as they approached the office.

  “What’s that?”

  “A set spell is a spell that is set into something or someone. They usually are low energy, and the person doesn’t realize that he’s being affected by one. Set-spells for memory suppression are common and relatively easy to cast, but apparently you can break them.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asked nervously.

  “That depends on how you look at it. On the one hand, it means that you aren’t easy to manipulate. On the other hand, it also means that anyone who knows that will use heavier spells on you, and they can be much more unpleasant to deal with.”

  She snorted. “Great.”

  “It’s 1300 hours. Time for your meeting with the colonel,” he said as they arrived at the closed office door.

  “Will I see you again afterwards?”

  “We have detail at 1500 hours. Norman will have enough tim
e to escort you back to your quarters before we have to report for duty, but we will certainly see you tomorrow morning when we drive you back to your home.”

  “Okay. I look forward to it. Thank you.”

  He smiled. “Everything’s going to be fine, Ms. Tindall. Just smile and agree with him no matter what he says.”

  She snickered and winked. “Oh, I don’t have to be Gifted to know how to do that,” she replied and opened the office door.

  As it turned out, the meeting with Colonel Pyle was benign. He’d gotten the preliminary reports back from her primary doctor and the doctors at Cherokee Indian Hospital. He had some questions about her visit to Duke’s Eye Center, and there was some additional paperwork that needed to be completed and signed in order to ensure that her medical bills were paid. Once that was done, he invited her to dinner with him and his wife, and that was that. The next time she would see him was two weeks after Christmas.

  Private Begay was waiting for her when she came out of the office at 2:30pm, and he escorted her to the same quarters she had occupied the last time she had been there. Her little overnight bag was already in the room, and she had plenty of time to change for dinner and call Elisi to tell her that she had arrived safely. She tried Michael again, but again did not get an answer on either line, and she was grateful, again, but this time because she realized the stupidity of discussing anything sensitive with Michael while on military ground. That was just asking for trouble.

  Dinner was also benign. A soldier she didn’t recognize knocked on her door at 5:45pm and escorted her down to the officer’s mess where Colonel Pyle and his wife were waiting. Ann Pyle was a pleasant woman who was obviously very concerned with her husband’s career. She was perfectly coiffed and outfitted, and she handled herself with impeccable manners and grace. Conversation was easy and comfortable because they didn’t discuss anything more controversial than the Farmer’s Almanac’s predictions for a bad winter. Thankfully, Signor Neramorte was absent, and she had a nice meal with the Colonel and his wife before returning to her room.

  Since she doubted that an unchaperoned stroll around the grounds would be well received, she opted to stay in her room and watch television. It wasn’t her favorite pastime, but there was an old comedy on that she had always liked, and she enjoyed watching it. Another movie came on after the comedy was over, but she didn’t pay much attention to it.

  The time alone was giving her an opportunity to do some serious thinking.

  Now that she was away from people and places that reminded her of Michael and Akihiro, she was able to see things more objectively, but something Akihiro had said was still bothering her.

  He had sworn that he had not lied to her, but she knew that he would avoid lying by simply not telling the whole truth, and she had no doubt that that was what he had been doing for the past eleven years in order to keep from revealing his secrets. If that was true, then she had no reason to be angry with him because she was guilty of the same lies of omission.

  Back in Feudal Japan, she had avoided telling the young Akihiro the true nature of her situation because she had been trying to spare him the pain of knowing she was going to die. In the current era, she had kept the truth about Akihiro from Michael because she didn’t want to break his heart. To be angry with Akihiro when she had lied in the same way, seemed hypocritical on her part, and she began to feel guilty for being so judgmental.

  Then there was the issue of Akihiro’s true age. When they had met Mr. Black Death in the hall, Ta’ahl had said that he was too old to be frightened by bullies, and that made her wonder how old he actually was. Norman might be 22-years old, but Ta’ahl had given her the impression that he was much older.

  She realized that Akihiro might be as old, if not older, than Ta’ahl, and if she did her math right that meant her fox was over 500 years old. She wondered how he had survived five centuries, and how he had managed to avoid the hunters he had been so worried about in Feudal Japan. She remembered that he’d said he had gone on the Trail of Tears, and that he had helped the dis-placed Cherokees build their homes in Oklahoma.

  She was awed by the magnitude of what he had done, and she wished that she hadn’t been so quick to leave on the night he had revealed himself to her. In hindsight, she ought to have stayed, if only to give him the opportunity to explain himself. She owed him that much at least, but instead she had thrown her engagement ring at him and stormed out.

  When the second movie was over it was late, and the channel put on an old B monster movie. Seeing the old budget film brought a sad smile to her lips.

  Michael loved the old monster flicks, and they used to stay up late in summer to watch midnight marathons of such classics as “The Blob” and “It Came From the Deep.” He hadn’t liked them when they had first met, but he’d developed a fondness for them about six years ago.

  ‘Shortly after he’d gotten back from his yearly retreat,’ she recalled thoughtfully.

  Once again she wondered where he went every year, and what he did during that time. She hoped to find out one day. She checked her blood sugar when the movie was over, and got undressed for bed. Private Begay would be knocking on her door at 0700 hours, and she set the alarm clock for 6am to give her plenty of time to get ready. After breakfast, he’d take her home, and she would try to get in touch with Michael for the third time.

  She hoped this time he’d answer.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  She woke in the middle of the night, all her senses on alert. The room was dark and silent without even the hum of electricity.

  ‘Hmm, this seems oddly familiar,’ she thought, reorienting herself.

  It was December 7th. Friday. She was at Fort Bragg. She’d been called there to meet with Colonel Pyle. She’d gone to bed after watching “Attack of the Crab Monsters.” A glance at the clock read 3:22am. She was wide awake and there was something in the room with her. She sat up and could just make out the outline of a figure sitting in the chair.

  ‘Oh yeah. Very familiar.’

  This time when the Fear hit, she was ready for it, and she only suffered a brief second of utter panic before setting her jaw and getting angry. The low chuckle from the man sitting in the chair only made her angrier.

  “What do you want Neramorte?”

  “Nothing in particular,” came the Italian-accented voice. “I was merely bored and looking for amusement.”

  “I’m so glad I could provide you with an evening’s entertainment.” He laughed and the bedside lamp came on without either of them touching it. The sudden flood of light blinded her for moment.

  “You do amuse me,” he admitted, then he stood and approached her. His eyes were feral and his smile was cold. “But the little sketh said too much, didn’t he? It’s odd that something so small can have such a large mouth.”

  “Sketh?” she repeated, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

  “The worm in your Indian friend,” he explained.

  ‘He’s talking about Ta’ahl…’

  “Precisely,” he confirmed, then flashed his fangs. “But I suppose I should thank him. He did me a favor by talking to you. Did he tell you what I am?”

  “He said I wasn’t ready to know.”

  Neramorte laughed a deep, full laugh that bounced off the walls of the small room, and she swore she saw tears well up in his dark eyes.

  “Ah, so the worm does have a sense of self-preservation, or maybe it is that he loves his human host too much.” He focused on her again. “But he is right. You are not ready to experience my greatness.”

  “Oh this is familiar. Didn’t you say something like that to me before? Ego much?” she snapped.

  “So you have broken the memory spell I cast upon you. I suspected as much.”

  He was very close to her now, and she could feel an almost unnatural heat coming from his body. It made her move back a bit on the mattress in order to put more distance between them. She recalled what Ta’ahl had said about the dangers of being able
to throw off set-spells, and she wondered what he was going to do.

  “Absolutely nothing,” he said simply, and she got angry with herself for not being able to block him from reading her thoughts.

  “Oh you will… eventually.”

  “So there is a way to keep you out of my mind,” she stated eagerly.

  “Of course. Temporarily, you understand. If I wanted to expend the energy, I could easily break any barrier you put up.”

  “Why not recast your spell then? Didn’t you want me to forget?” she challenged.

  He shrugged. “It suited my purposes at the time. You cut your hair.” It was a statement and his expression was suspiciously bland.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she retorted.

  “Do not presume that I am ignorant to the meaning when one of your kind cuts her hair. I know full well that it is a sign of mourning,” his eyes fell to her right hand, her ring-less right hand, “Are you mourning someone, Ms Tindall?” He was looking at her expectantly, and she suddenly realized that he had noticed the missing diamond. She made a jump in logic and a new picture became clear.

  “You know I’ve met with Akihiro,” she accused.

  “Of course. I can read your mind,” he replied, but she saw his eyes flicker.

  “No. You knew beforehand because I wasn’t thinking of him until just now. You knew about him. You made me think he was dead on purpose.” Her anger flared and made her bolder than she might have been otherwise.

  She hoped she wouldn’t come to regret it.

  “I did no such thing.”

  “You said our memories are all that we have,” she countered.

  “That is true.”

  “But you knew I took it to mean that Akihiro hadn’t made it. You did nothing to tell me that I was wrong.”

  He had to have known what it had done to her. Even if she didn’t remember that the thought had been planted by him, it still had broken her heart.