Foxheart

Chapter Thirty-Two

Esme shuffled down the busy road. She kept her head down and clutched the pack to her chest. Her heart was in her mouth, thumping madly with every step she took. Since she entered Alton nothing had happened but she had seen policemen and White Wizards. They crawled everywhere. Blockades had been raised at every entrance, checking cars and lorries that entered with lights, snarling dogs and spells. People were stopped to be patted down and asked questions. There was no sign of Sodden at least.

She didn't know how she had managed to slip by the first blockade. She simply sucked in the air and mixed herself within a cluster of people who had walked from the neighbouring village. Somehow the spells the White Wizard held hadn't pointed her out. She clutched the pouch around her neck, feeling the rock inside. Everwood was keeping her hidden as best as he could but she couldn't risk getting too close to the Wizards and, as she passed an animal control van filled with yapping foxes, she realised she couldn't hang about after dark. Her fox curse was known. This male façade was her best disguise right now.

Esme coughed heavily as she inhaled dry road dirt and rubbed her stinging eyes. She had made it to the main square, a place filled with shabby houses and decaying shops. She paused on the street corner, watching a group of policemen wondering about and shoving a flier in civilian's faces. Her heart thumped. She had to keep moving but where to? Warbler's Clinic was somewhere in Alton but she didn't have the luxury to stumble about until she found it. She'd either be caught by then or Fox would die from his fever. It didn't help that she didn't even know what its name was. Warbler was the man's thieving title, not his name, so it was unlikely to be plastered on a building somewhere.

Esme had to think quick though. She scrunched up her face and rubbed the back of her neck, pulling her hand away sticky with sweat. It was so hot out today.

Just as Esme decided to cross the road and head east in hopes she'd be going in the right direction, a voice spoke.

'Excuse me, sir.'

Esme froze and nervously glanced to her right. A fresh-faced policeman stood there, looking sweaty and uncomfortable in his uniform. Esme's heart jumped to her throat and she clutched her bag tighter, feeling the solid form of her Grimoire inside.

'Have you seen this woman?' He held up a flier with Esme's face plastered on it. Her chest twisted.

Slowly she shook her head and proceeded to cough heavily when she inhaled more road dust disturbed by a car that roared by. It raked through her chest, making her gasp for air until she finally stopped; pink faced, breathing heavily and teary eyed. The policeman frowned in concern.

'Are you well?'

Esme opened her mouth to speak but remembered her mute disguise. She pointed at her throat and shook her head, intending to say she couldn't speak but the policemen took as a confirmation she was indeed sick.

'You don't look it. Deathly pale, you are. Look, I know a cheap clinic you can go to. I'll show you.' The policeman smiled and placed a hand on her back to guide her up the road.

Esme was stunned for a second before she let herself be guided by the kindly policeman, coughing pitifully now and then. She felt bad for deceiving such a kind man, even if it hadn't been unintentional, but she was in luck. Even if the clinic wasn't the one she was looking for, it could have information to others in the area.

She didn't have to go far. Six roads later with the policeman rubbing her back when she coughed and asking if she needed to rest, she finally stood outside a very busy clinic. The named Songbird Clinic was hung above the glass door, with pealing green paint coming loose. Not only was there a great number of patients going in and out but there were four policemen outside, armed with dogs and White Wizards.