Foxheart

Chapter Sixty-Eight

Fox sat rigid, his eyes squeezed shut and ears rattling painfully from the gunshot. A screech was ringing around his head, making his senses crackle and throb, but he was alive. Somehow.

Blinking heavily, Fox turned his head, his swimming gaze flickering up to Sodden's face. To his surprise, he looked just as perplexed as Fox felt. He held the gun, still smoking slightly, but the bullet was hanging in the air, frozen in place.

Suddenly they weren't alone. Floating next to fox was the slippery cat, Spirit Bulwark. His face smiled, his eyes closing in glee.

Sodden frowned but there wasn't an ounce of anger in his tone. Nothing seemed to make the blind witch hunter mad. 'Lord Bulwark. I thought your job was to protect the Tower.'

'Yes. This one is meant to protect the Tower from intruders.' The cat's ears twitched. 'But this one also needs to protect it from falling.'

Sodden didn't try to stop Lord Bulwark as magic filled the room, making Fox's already aching head ache more. The world span, blurred, and then he found himself falling and collapsing on cold floor. He lay sprawled out, clutching at his head with bits of grit poking into his skin and the stink of thousands of herbs filling his nose.

'This one just got there in time.' Lord Bulwark cackled above him. 'One second longer and the red head's brain would be mush.'

Fox didn't have the focus to even attempt to feel an ounce of gratitude. Everything swam, churning his stomach and making his eyes throb. He wanted to throw up.

'Thank you, Lord Bulwark. Will you be able to return and survey?' A familiarly irritating voice said.

'Yes.' There was a gentle breeze as Bulwark vanished.

Abruptly, a large hand gripped Fox's shoulder tightly. 'Fox, are you alright?'

'No.' He groaned as he pushed himself onto his knees so he could get a better look at Lithgow. 'Nearly got shot, didn't I?'

Lithgow frowned. 'Where?'

'In the Tower. Sodden was going to just blow my head apart under that bitch's command.'

Lithgow's face darkened. 'Then I worry for the state of your companions.'

Fox shook his head as his focus returned. He thought of Denver's words, her adamant statement Esme was in love with him and only had the willpower to fight when he was nearby. His ears reddened a little and he ignored the odd fluttering in his chest. 'No, no they'll be fine for a bit, she'll trial 'em. She only did it to hurt Esme.'

Lithgow understood but his face was a mixed bag of feeling relief that no one else was being shot behind closed doors and anger that Esme was being put under more pain.

'Did you see Esme?'

'She's alive. She's fightin', Lithgow. She's tryin' to keep her head on straight.' Fox said as he sat cross-legged on the floor, gazing about the room, noting it seemed to be underground and some kind of laboratory. Herbs and plants grew from pots, dangled from ceiling and stored in jars and a vials, Bunsen burners, pots and glass tubes were clustered on a thick oak table. 'Where are we anyway?' His eyes snapped to Lithgow and glared. 'And where have you been while all this crap happened?'

'I've been trying to find an old friend.' He said he rose to the door opening. 'And I found her. This is her home.'

Shuffling into the room came an old woman. She had a leathery face with folds of flesh drooping from her cheeks, but she didn't look anything special. Just an average happy old woman. Not until Fox spied the whistles dangling from her round face.