Fic: Captive of the Red Vixen, Part Twenty-Eight

[jeriendhal]

Rolas found Melika in the room next to his own, in a hastily cordoned off section of the hospital. Two hours after the incident at her manor, his arm had been injected with healing accelerators and enough pain meds to keep him from biting his tongue off, and he was able to stand on his own two feet, despite warnings from the doctors not to. He had to however. This quiet evening period, between giving their statements to the Brushtail District’s Civil Protection officers and the morning news cycle, might be the only chance he had to speak to her alone for a very long time.

She was lying back in bed, eyes closed, pressing a cold pack against the bandage wrapped around her head. She looked up when he entered, face almost brightening into a smile before it turned into something closed off and ashamed. He sat down next to her, saying nothing, and waited.

“I’m a bloody liar,” she finally said after nearly a minute of uncomfortable silence. When he still said nothing, she added, “You should hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said. “I can’t say I understand you, but I don’t hate you.”

“I almost got your sister killed.”

“She wasn’t.”

“I nearly got you killed.”

“Unless that bastard Hotclaw is yet another alternate persona of yours, I find that difficult to believe.” The memory of Hotclaw’s hideous grass chaser stench crossed his mind and he had a sudden realization. “Now I understand why you kept dosing yourself with that horrid perfume. It was so no vulpine you ever encountered as the Red Vixen would have a chance of recognizing you back home.”

She nodded, winced, and pressed the cold pack a little tighter. “That was always my worst worry. The rest of it, some dye for my pelt, contacts to change my eye color, brushing out my facial fur to obscure my real features, that was simple.”

“Not to me. I would have sworn the Red Vixen was at least two centimeters taller than you.”

“That’s all a matter of attitude. Quiet, polite Lady Melika is much less imposing than the Scourge of the Spaceways.”

“That makes sense.” He shifted in his seat, compelled to ask his next question but not certain if he wanted to hear the answer. “Why did you do it?”

“Do which? Become the Red Vixen? Attack your countess’ ships? Try to seduce you?”

“All of them.”

She let out a long sigh. “Well, the start of it was my brother Marcus.”

“He was a pirate?”

“Ha. No sane pirate would ever hire him on. No, Marcus, to put it as gently as possible, was an idiot. After his marriage, he convinced my parents to allow him to start up our plantation on Avela Prime. Unfortunately he was not terribly suited for administration. It bored him, so to pass the time he started gambling. Then he started running up debts. Then he started embezzling.”

“Oh dear.” Rolas had dealt with the occasional unpleasant creditor, intervening on the behalf of one of their commoners who had gotten in over their heads. It tended to be an ugly business, especially if the creditor was a less than legitimate operator.

“He didn’t get a chance to do much damage, thanks to the early audit I initiated, fortunately. The fact that he was taking money from our family’s coffers to pay for his weakness was outrage enough. Then I found out he’d intended to sell the route of one of our produce freighters to pirates.”

“What did you do?”

“I was going to tell the Navy. I’m sure they could have spared a destroyer to take out one of those scum. But before that I wanted to confront Marcus. I was so angry at him for this attempt at betrayal, I wanted to show him once and for all that piracy was not worth it.” She smiled slightly. “I have a certain love for spreadsheets, it comes from being an accountant. So I started running the numbers. What I found out was… very interesting.”

“How so?”

“It turned out you could make a profit from piracy. I mean, of course, that you’ll always run the risk of being hunted down by the Navy or destroyed by a freighter’s escorts, but even factoring those points in, the profits if you struck the correct targets could be amazing.”

“But why run the risk at all?”

She shrugged, then winced and shifted the cold pack. “Because it looked like fun. Marcus was living the high life, and the only punishment he was going to receive for his misdeeds was a slap on the wrist and being removed from his position of authority, which I was going to have to take up myself. It started to eat me. Why should he be the one to have all the fun, while I was the obedient, responsible vixen cleaning up after his messes? So I tracked down the pirate that he had been collaborating with, bought out the captain’s share of the ship, and the Red Vixen, Scourge of the Spaceways was born.”

“As simple as that?”

“Well no. There was a very unpleasant period while the crew got adjusted to my tactics. Most weren’t a deliberately cruel lot. They were happiest when their victims surrendered, shut up, and let them steal the cargo. But they did have their fair share of sociopaths that had to be spa--, er, weeded out when I told them they had to use stunners from now on and that rapine and pillaging was Right Out.”

The strange thing was, he could imagine her doing it too. He chuckled a little, despite the throbbing pain of his arm.

“Oh, it was great fun. I had enough industry contacts to find out the shipping schedules for targets valuable enough to be worth taking, but not quite expensive enough to make hiring on mercenary outriders sensible for the ship’s owners. Lady Melika would go off to investigate some ‘business opportunities’, and while she was gone the Red Vixen would go-a-marauding. It worked quite well, up to a point.” She closed her eyes. “I’m so very sorry. As I said, great fun, until I started hurting you.”

“You did nothing to hurt me.”

“Didn’t I? I stole your family's fortunes. Doing that I spoiled your chance to escape from that vile vixen Highglider. I nearly got you arrested for piracy because I paraded you around like a consort. Then I compounded my stupidity by hunting Highglider's ships, trying to extract vengeance for all your family's troubles. Instead I very nearly got you and your sister assassinated."

"We don't have any proof that Hotclaw was acting on the Countess' behalf," Rolas pointed out.

"And you really believe that?"

"It doesn't matter, I think he's going to die shortly himself before he's able to testify at his trial."

"Oh, I certainly hope not. That would imply two assassins in this tale and I think that would be a bit much."

Rolas laughed. The feeling of mirth surprised him so much he nearly stopped in the middle of it. How long has it been since he'd been able to laugh, without the threat of the Countess or the pain of Salli's terrible, terrifying marriage bringing blackness to his heart? He brushed his paw gently against Melika's cheek, then leaned forward to kiss her once again...

There was a polite cough at the door. Rolas and Melika's heads both shot around, to find an elegant vixen in her late forties standing in the room's doorway. "Countess Brushtail," Melika said breathlessly. No doubt she was wondering the same thing Rolas was, just how long had the woman been standing there, listening in to this most private confession?

"Milady," Rolas said, rising to his feet and bowing deeply.

"Sit back down, Lord Rolas," the countess said. "Forgive me for interrupting a private conversation, but I just walked up when you mentioning that criminal, Hotclaw. I take you have some concerns about him?"

"I'm sorry, Countess, but his... likely employer... is probably not pleased that he botched the attack upon us."

"You needn't speak delicately about this subject around me, Lord Rolas," Countess Brushtail said. She smiled. It was the sort of smile that somehow managed to be both warm and frighteningly determined at the same time. "I have been aware for quite a while of the situation in my neighbor's domain, and the unfortunate vendetta that she has been pursuing against you. Until now, however, it has not been within my power to provide any real assistance to you. This attack has fundamentally altered the situation however. If Mr. Hotclaw can be persuaded to speak, and this attack be linked to her... well, if Evelina Highglider thinks she can initiate a criminal assault in my family's domain, and very nearly murder a noblevixen whose family is sworn to mine, well then she is very sadly mistaken. My Word as the Countess Brushtail, Lord Rolas, your family has my House's full support in this matter."

"Oh, milady." Rolas stood again and bowed deeply to her. "That would be a great comfort to us."

"It is the very least that I can do for you. Oh, and you may rest assured that your Hotclaw will remain very much alive, while he is in the custody of my Civil Protection officers." She smiled again, now with more indulgence than determination. "Now, I think it would be best to take my leave. It will be a busy day tomorrow and I'm sure you two will need some time to discuss many things before then. Privately." And with that she nodded and took her leave.

"I suppose there are one or two things we can go over before tomorrow," Rolas said thoughtfully.

"Yes, we can," Melika agreed. Gently, she took hold of the collar of his robe, which covered his hospital gown, and pulled him closer to her. "Later."

"Yes, milady," he said, as she kissed him again.

To Be Concluded