Unfamiliar Territory, page 6
Oh yes. She also knew I was more than human. That’s right; she was the first human with whom I broke Rules Number 1 and 2. Fleurette was an honorable woman, however, and promised to keep my secret safe. As much as I trusted her, though, she still believed I was a simple shapeshifter, instead of the only being who was somehow preventing an evil megalomaniac from returning to this dimension. In this regard, I had kept Rule Number 3 intact. It was better that way.
Fleurette rounded Humbert to stand in front of me. She was dressed in her usual fashion: a long, flowy patterned skirt paired with a white peasant blouse that enhanced her curvy figure.
“Welcome back!” she greeted, embracing me. She was a good five inches taller than me, and so it seemed that her whole essence engulfed me whenever we hugged. She smelled like fresh herbs, flowers, and churned earth, as always. Her thick chestnut brown hair, wild and curly, was braided down her back, but some of the unruly wisps had escaped and framed her face. There was never a chance of fully containing those locks of hers. Her skin was a healthy tan; I once thought it was from the sun until I learned about her mixed heritage.
I typically wasn’t the hugging type in my human form, but when it came to Fleurette I could never say no to one of her embraces. They were incredibly comforting.
She released me and I stepped back. “How was the job?” she asked with sudden seriousness, studying my countenance with the focus of a mother cat cleaning her kitten.
I shrugged. “Super easy. Right, Grimm?” I glanced around when I didn’t hear a customary chuff of agreement from my partner. I spotted him at the edge of the property, following his nose about for any new smells that might have accumulated since we were gone. I turned my attention back to Fleurette, angling my head at the wagon. “I’ve got the bounty in the safe. I didn’t have time to divvy it up yet.”
Fleurette waved the idea of money away. “Don’t worry about that just now; we can handle that later today.”
Time to figure out what was going on that was so important as to hurry us back home.
I gazed up at her face. “Fleurette, what was the rush?”
I didn’t mean to sound quite as snippy as I did, and I immediately regretted my tone when I saw her face fall a bit. She looked upward and sighed.
“I know I usually give you a bit more time between jobs,” she began, “but this one … well, I feel like you should get there first.” She straightened a little and smiled. “I have a feeling you two are hungry. Come on, let’s get some food in you first. I’ll explain over lunch.”
She walked ahead of me into the cottage but stopped short at the doorway. I craned over to the side to see what had caught her attention. A creeping fig had been planted on the left-hand side of the doorway years ago. It now took up a large portion of the front wall surrounding the purple door, clinging tightly to the outer façade. A creeper had started to trail outward toward the door. Fleurette had taken notice, which had triggered her impromptu stop. I watched as she extended her hand carefully and touched the tip of her finger to the vine’s edge. The vine trembled faintly at the slight pressure, and then began curling inward like a retracting worm, before hiding itself in the surrounding branches of the fig.
That was another important thing about Fleurette. She was not just my manager and my friend, but also, she was a minor witch, her specialty being plant magic. She had, in my opinion, the world’s greenest thumb. Her garden, in all its wildness, was the happiest garden on the face of the planet. Each plant in her domain had been meticulously cared for. I didn’t have the foggiest clue how her magic worked; as far as I knew she was born with this talent. The best way I could describe it was that she somehow communicated with the plants, and they responded by doing what she asked.
When she wasn’t acting as my manager, Fleurette made a living two other ways: she sold seeds and seedlings to the local folk at the Knobby Hill Saturday Market in the springtime, and she produced herbal tinctures and salves to heal various minor ailments, which she sold year-round. She lived rather simply, however, and a little money went a long way. Therefore, the traffic to her cottage was kept at a minimum, which suited her—and me when I was there—just fine.
Having asked the fig to tuck back its errant vine, Fleurette entered her abode. I followed her through the small and cozy sitting room filled with mismatched stuffed chairs, a loveseat, and small house plants hanging from the ceiling or in pots on every available surface. Just past the sitting room was the kitchen, which faced the back of the cottage. The kitchen had an airier feel to it than the previous room, probably because it wasn’t stuffed to the gills with furniture, although the windowsills were also chock full of greenery.
I breathed in the scent of chicken soup, one of my favorite meals. Sure enough, a large pot sat on the apple-green stovetop ahead of me, the contents simmering and releasing the aroma of chicken, onions, garlic, and veggies into the air. The smell was drool-inducing. Fleurette made her way to the oven, picked up a wooden ladle and stirred the soup. She smirked as she turned to look at me.
“You are just in time,” she said. “Nothing like a good homemade soup to lend some comfort!”
At this moment Grimm, who had caught up with his ‘news’ around the property, made an appearance. He walked to my side and sat at my heels, acting the obedient dog. Fleurette laughed. “Grimm, welcome back!”
Fleurette understood that my partner was more than an ordinary dog, and always treated him as an equal, which made her that much more special in my mind. I knew that Grimm also appreciated her. He never growled at her or gave her gimlet eyes but treated her as a respectful member of his pack.
“Did the smell of soup get to you too?” she asked him playfully. Grimm chuffed in response and Fleurette laughed again before getting bowls down from the cupboard to dish up lunch.
Bowls filled, we sat at the dining room table, off to the right of the kitchen. The room was a heavily windowed addition, which made it light, bright, and warm on sunny days such as this. Fleurette had already opened most of the windows to allow a cooling breeze through the room. It infused the scent of chicken soup with that of grass and flowers.
After our last few meals of jerky, the soup was ambrosia. Even Grimm got his own bowl, magically cooled off by Fleurette before he scarfed it down. I was so hungry I focused solely on my spoon, knowing that talk would have to wait, no matter how curious I was.
But eventually my belly was satisfied, and just at the right time too, considering I was scraping the last of the broth into my mouth. It was time for information.
I gave Fleurette a serious look. “What’s the job?”
Fleurette was still eating, by virtue of not having been starving. She glanced up at me as she added another spoonful to her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, gauging my rising impatience. Finally, she carefully placed her spoon in her bowl and let out a small sigh. She then leaned to one side to fish into her flowing skirt’s pocket, pulling out a piece of folded up paper. It was something I was familiar with.
“You know I normally don’t pull you for a job this quickly,” she began, still keeping the paper in her hand, “but I saw this on the board yesterday, and this one seemed important.”
“Important how?” I queried, reaching for the paper.
She paused another heartbeat before leaning over the table to pass me the sheet. “As in, I think you should be the first to get to him because I know you’ll treat him better.”
This was unusual. Fleurette may have donned the mantle of manager when I first decided to pursue this career, but mostly it was in title only. Typically, she left Grimm and me to our own devices when it came to choosing our jobs. In fact, the only time she intervened was when we were asked for by name for a specific bounty. Otherwise, she typically didn’t even peruse the available bounties on her own.
Did that mean she was lying to me when she said she just happened to stumble upon it on the message board? That didn’t seem like Fleurette’s style. Curiosity thoroughly piqued, I gave Fleurette one more look before unfolding the paper and scanning it quickly.
A very crude drawing of a face looked back at me: a nondescript squarish jaw, angry eyes and lips, and just a line to hint at a nose. All this was framed by ear-length hair that was filled in with black. This was nowhere near realistic enough to be a speculograph, a magically taken picture of someone. Nor was it an eyewitness approved artist’s rendering. That by itself spoke of mystery in this case. No one really knew what the perp truly looked like.
“‘Boy burglar, wanted for theft…” I read in confusion. “Boy burglar?”
“My thoughts exactly. I don’t know how old he is, but the dossier seems quite strict for petty crime. Cressida, you have a bit more of a gentle hand. Something isn’t adding up and I worry that another bounty hunter will take everything at face value.”
I reread the paper in my hands. “It says here that all the crimes were committed in Chargrove, but Knobby Hill Corrections is the one processing the criminal. That’s a bit odd.” I may not have had a solid grasp on this region’s geography, but I did know that Chargrove was not exactly close to Knobby Hill.
“I agree.”
I nodded absently, still thinking things through. This typically wasn’t the kind of bounty I usually went for; the reward was relatively small, and I liked to focus on the more supernatural criminals that others had a hard time acquiring. This just didn’t seem challenging, but at the same time Fleurette was right. Something wasn’t adding up on multiple accounts. It was time to make a decision: let this small fry go or reel in in?
“I accept,” I said.
“Excellent!” Fleurette exclaimed. She stood up briskly, collecting our messy dishes with enthusiasm. “We should head to town and visit the courthouse as soon as possible. The dossier was only posted yesterday evening, so I bet not many other hunters have reacted to it yet, but time is of the essence on this one.”
I internally groaned. I hadn’t really gotten a fulfilling amount of sleep since the last job. The thought of starting this new one immediately wasn’t exactly making me jump for joy.
“Should I leave for Chargrove this evening, then?” I asked reluctantly, raising my voice so that she could hear me in the kitchen.
Fleurette bustled back into the dining room and took her seat again. She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Everyone else will be taking the main road from Knobby Hill to travel to Chargrove. It’s a nice flat road that can be traveled at a faster pace, but it also takes you farther out in order to connect with other towns along the way. I happen to know of a shortcut.”
“A shortcut?” I cocked my head.
Fleurette smiled knowingly. “This road here just so happens to be a direct route to Chargrove.”
I frowned. “Your road? As in the one right outside that goes into the woods?”
She gestured toward the front of her cottage. “Yes, silly. Did you not know that? If you take a left out of my place, Rabbit Hole Road takes you to Knobby Hill, as you well know. But turning right takes you to Chargrove. It used to be the main way to get there before they built the newer, wider, but much longer road. This way, it’s about a twenty-five-mile drive. I did it once when I was younger. I do recall it’s a rough road in the middle, but it should still be drivable.”
I pondered this. “So, if I take this back road, I should beat any competition there, right? What are the chances that anybody else will know about this alternative route?”
Fleurette shrugged. “It was more widely used about fifty years ago, before the main road was constructed. Seeing as how I hardly ever get traffic past my house, I think it’s a safe bet that most people don’t know about it anymore. And I guarantee they don’t put it on maps anymore.”
“Great.” I nodded my head as if to cement the plan. “How soon can we go and arrange things at the courthouse? I should try to leave first thing in the morning if I want any sort of advantage.”
“I plan to drop off some more tonics at the Apothecary. I just need to gather some things together, once I clean the kitchen. Give me half an hour?” Fleurette hedged.
I glanced at Grimm, who was lying on his large haunches and licking his paws. “Perfect. that will give me time to tell Grimm all the details.” At the mention of his name, my intelligent partner lifted his head and gazed into my eyes with a serious demeanor, although I did see his tail wiggle in an almost-wag.
“Speaking of…” Fleurette added, almost hesitant. I swiveled my head to look at her. “Dad’s told me it’s time for Grimm’s checkup. Can you stop by there after our town errands today?”
Fleurette’s dad was a veterinarian, our own personal doctor as well as a trusted friend.
Grimm, while not fully understanding human language, knew more words than the average dog to piece together ‘Dad’ and ‘checkup.’ His ears drooped in a pathetic way as he glanced at the woman. I chuckled.
“No problem,” I answered.
Chapter 6
“Look, I know I’m a good boy but please tell me I don’t need a shot!” Grimm complained.
We were in the sitting room, lounging on the love seat. It was a good thing I was so small because he took up practically the whole thing. Fleurette was tidying up the kitchen after our big meal and told us to vamoose out of her way, so I wasted no time stripping off my human form and getting comfortable for a bit before we ventured into town.
I purred a little to placate the dog’s uneasiness. “You wrestle werewolves into submission, but a little needle poke scares you?”
Grimm blew out a breath through his black wet nose. “I was born to wrestle werewolves. Needles? Not so much.”
“Sorry, partner, I can’t tell you one way or another. It’s up to Lyle, not me, whether you are due or not. A tiny poke is better than a life-threatening disease, right?”
Grimm groaned in response, dropping his head and trying to hide his face with a paw. Then he shot back up, perking his ears a bit, adding, “But I can’t get fleas. What makes you all so sure I can contract regular dog diseases?”
It was true, fleas hated Grimm. I chalked it up to the small amount of magic running in his veins. Magic must be a natural flea deterrent. I wasn’t complaining either, because fleas hated me just as much.
Still. “Fleas are easy to see. Microbes are not. Just suck it up and it will be over. Better to be safe than sorry, right? Before we go, can I tell you about the new job?”
“Sure. What is it this time?”
“It’s a little out of our wheelhouse,” I began, and thought back to the dossier, which I had already memorized. I rattled it off to Grimm, “Wanted alive or incapacitated: boy burglar, name: unknown; age: under eighteen; magic: unknown; distinguishing features: dark hair of either black or brown color, thin build. Last seen in Chargrove. Crimes: theft of large amounts of food from locals, both stores and private; theft of clothing from Chargrove; assault of Henry Whitman of Chargrove. Reward: $800. Payable by Constable Fletcher of Knobby Hill Corrections.”
“Not much, and yet, they usually don’t bother with bounties for small stuff,” Grimm observed.
“That’s why I’m interested. We’re going to town today, and then we’ll leave first thing in the morning. That will give you enough time to recover from your checkup.”
Grimm groaned.
It was the tail end of summer in Vinland, and in our little patch of the Oracune Region, that meant delightfully warm days enhanced with intermittent cloud cover. We were reaching the end of the dry time, and the almost incessant rain would be starting within a month, two if we were lucky. Because we locals never took glorious days for granted, the three of us decided to walk to town instead of hitching Humbert back up.
I had spent so much of my time as a human with this last job, that I decided to do the bulk of the trek as a cat. The warm sun felt wonderful on my white fur, with my two dark spots on my head soaking up the rays even more. I felt a little sorry for Grimm, as he must have been quite hot in his shaggy black fur. He was accustomed to his permanent coat, however, and the only sign of discomfiture he displayed was a bit of light panting as we walked.
Fleurette didn’t mind that I chose my cat form. She simply enjoyed the animal company on the walk. Occasionally she would speak to us about something that crossed her mind. I could understand human speech in my true form, but I did have to concentrate more on the words than I otherwise would as a human. Grimm only caught the gist, so he often asked me to translate for him if something didn’t make sense.
Soon enough, we came close enough to town that it became prudent for me to be in my human guise. I ran off into the ditch, just in case, and came back out on two legs. We continued our casual stroll until we reached the edge of town, at which point Fleurette parted ways, promising to meet us back at the cottage after our visit to her father.
Knobby Hill wasn’t a large town by anyone’s measure, but it was substantial for what it was. It also boasted a state-of-the-art courthouse, which made it the unofficial head for criminal investigations in Tinuka County. Many of the neighboring towns came here to post their bounties, and to judge and prosecute many of the bigger trials, even if the crimes committed were far away.
The stately white courthouse featured an expansive lawn out front: lush, green, and meticulously maintained. On nice days like this, it was a beacon for those of the town that were searching for a little sun and relaxation.
The lawn also contained the town notice board. It was tucked to one side instead of in the middle, so as not to mar the view of the regal building behind it. The board was rather long, and double sided. One side was for general postings: lost pets, items for sale, and upcoming events in Knobby Hill. This was the side that faced the street and got the most attention.
I wanted to scope out the other side.
