“CURTIS!” Prue screamed.
The lowing wail of a train engine overlapped her cry, obscuring it. The circus train was leaving, and the night was filled with the sounds of the engine’s rattle and whine. She tried again, though her voice was hoarse from exhaustion.
“Oh yes,” said Darla, approaching again. She favored her right leg now; dark blood seeped from the wound in her foot. “Please, bring your friend. He’s next on my list. That’d make my job quite a bit easier.” The rain was coming in thick sheets now, and Prue could feel the water pouring in streams from her brow. It dripped over her lips and into her mouth, which was slightly open as her breathing came in deep, heavy bursts. Darla’s fur was oil-black and looked to have the consistency of oil, the way it clung to her skin, the way the water poured over it and fell to the ground.
“CURTIIIIS!” Prue screamed again.
Darla, comically, chimed in. “CURTIS!” she yelled, cupping her long claws around her mouth. “Come join the party!” She then cocked her head, saying, “Strange, he doesn’t seem to be hearing.”
“You won’t get away with this. They’ll come for you.”
“And who’s this mysterious ‘they’?”
“Owl Rex. The bandits.”
“I have some information for you. Owl Rex flew the coop.” She chuckled at her own joke before continuing. “Totally MIA. As for your bandits, they were gone when we got to their little encampment.”
“Gone?”
“I’d love to take credit for that, but there were only three of us Kitsunes and, what, a hundred bandits? No, no. They’d all disappeared. Lots of smoke and fire. No bandits. Someone else did that tasty bit of culling. You flatter me if you think that we three took out that entire camp.” She laughed. “Shouldn’t have said anything. Oh well, you’ll be dead in a few seconds anyway.”
Something cold and sharp jabbed at Prue’s palm. Looking down, she saw it was a section of metal rebar, jutting up from the heap. She quickly slipped her fingers around it and pulled it free: It was a rusty three feet long and sat reassuringly heavy in her grasp. She swung it out in the direction of the approaching Kitsune, and the creature flinched.
“Put that away,” Darla said.
“Leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that. I have a job to do.”
Prue swung again. The bar whistled in the air before Darla’s outstretched claws. “I won’t let you. I won’t. I’ll stop you.” The words were flowing from Prue’s mouth in nervous fits. The pounding of her heart beat a kick drum in her ears.
The creature cracked a wide smile. Prue swung the bar again. Darla feinted right and pounced.
Prue leapt sideways, catching herself against the slope of the hill with her elbow. The hot weight of Darla’s body collapsed onto her, and it crushed her to the ground. She felt the end of the rebar bite through the fabric of her coat at her waist; a blister of pain tore through her. She yelled out; she could smell the sour bre
ath of the fox-woman above her.
Instinctively, she kicked and was surprised to feel her left boot find purchase on the creature’s underbelly. The thing yelped; her weight lifted momentarily and Prue, the rake of the slope to her advantage, rolled away. The piece of rebar still clung to her side. It wasn’t until she’d managed to get a few feet from Darla that she realized it had, in fact, pierced her skin. Blood was welling up in the space between her naked waist and the cotton of her shirt.
She began to run. Her ankle was stiff; she hadn’t realized how little she’d been using it on their walk through the underground. The pain was now flashing anew. She could hear Darla righting herself behind her, cursing the girl as she gave pursuit. The shack in the center of the trough was only a handful of yards distant. She could make it, she thought. If only she had a little more time…
Darla’s twin sets of claws seized her shoulders. The thick wool of her coat tore, and Prue screamed to feel the sharpness burrow into her collarbone. The full weight of the Kitsune’s body was now bearing down on her back. Prue tumbled forward. Both of them hit the ground and rolled the final yards to the bottom of the trough. They came to a stop in a wide tussock of grass, landing in such a way that Darla was able to straddle Prue’s chest, immobilizing her, as she lay pinned to the hard earth.
The Kitsune fought for breath, her chest heaving in rapid jerks. Her long arms, slick in black fur, lay at her side as her knees pressed painfully into Prue’s shoulder. She spat angrily at the ground and abruptly slashed Prue across the face with her claws.
Three bright red welts instantaneously appeared on Prue’s cheek. Tears streamed down from her eyes. “Please!” she shouted.
“Too late.” She lifted her arm to strike again.
Please.
The grass responded. Little yellow tendrils shot up Darla’s arm, ensnaring her. Suddenly, the Kitsune’s midsection was so crisscrossed with the fibers of grass that she resembled some bizarre model of the human nervous system. She let out a scream; the grass began to wick its way up to her neck. Prue, surprised at the turn of events, was able to push her way from underneath Darla. She began crawling again toward the shack, now only feet away. The claw marks at her face burned; the wound in her side was tacky with blood.
The sound of tearing earth caught her attention, and she twisted around to see Darla rip free of the grass’s clutches. She was doing it with some considerable effort, and her face was showing her very intense frustration. Prue looked down at the tufts of grass at her feet and thought:
Now.
At her command, the grass came alive and slithered about Darla’s ankles and tangled between her toes. The Kitsune stumbled forward, shouting a string of petulant curses.