Page 25 of Skulk of Foxes
‘You could be a bit happier about it.’
‘I’m happy it’s stopped,’ he said. ‘But the fact that it happened in the first place does not fill me with joy. It makes me worried about what’s going to happen next.’
Spotting the large crowd of people advancing out of the trees towards Morgan and the lake’s edge, I also had a bad feeling about what was going to happen next. None of them looked particularly happy and they all had a slightly unnatural green tinge to their skin. Bogles. Lots of them.
Despite the freezing temperature, I was tempted to stay where I was in the lake and let Morgan deal with them. Much as I hated to admit it, he was far better with people than I was. The only reason I started to wade out to join him was that the largest duck was still giving me nasty glares and starting to paddle towards me. Give me angry bogles over furious ducks any day. At least the bogles were unlikely to peck me to death.
Morgan had obviously heard the bogles’ approach. He turned to face them, his palms extended outwards in a gesture of peace. Before he could say anything, though, I flicked back my hair, extricated a sodden, stringy weed from where it had plastered itself against my cheek and cleared my throat.
‘Take us to your leader,’ I boomed.
A small male bogle stepped forward and raised an eyebrow at Morgan. ‘Is she for real?’
‘You’re little green men,’ I called out. ‘What else am I going to say?’
I couldn’t see the expression on Morgan’s face but I was certain he was chuckling. With such a hearty, clever wit as mine, it was nigh on impossible to keep a straight face. The bogles, alas, were managing it well enough. They were probably worried that more fireballs might descend from the heavens.
While I heaved myself out of the lake, Morgan inclined his head respectfully. ‘I am Morganus.’
The lead bogle still didn’t crack a smile. ‘You’re Fey.’
‘Yes.’
‘Why have you come here?’
‘We are looking for the family of Charrie.’
The bogle sniffed. ‘He is dead.’
Morgan remained calm and stoic. He was good at that. ‘We know. That’s why we want to talk to his wife.’ He gestured at me. ‘My companion, Madrona, was involved in his demise.’
As one, the bogles’ heads turned towards me. Their expressions didn’t alter but I suddenly felt the weight of responsibility for Charrie’s death, regardless of how it actually went down on the night or whether I remembered the details. Their friend, their brother, their son, was dead. And it was my fault.
The lead bogle, who still hadn’t deigned to give us his name, broke away from the group and strode towards me. Before he reached me, he stretched his hands behind his back and, in one swift, fluid movement, drew out a long sharp sword.
I hissed.
Morgan moved towards me, as if to barricade the bogle’s advance. ‘We’re not here to fight,’ he said, his tone laced with a dangerous warning of what could be about to ensue.
‘I’ve got this,’ I snarled. Bogles weren’t affected by the truce. If this arsebadger tried anything, I’d have him on the ground in a heartbeat. He’d rue the day he’d tried to cross me. His children would rue the day. His grandchildren would…
The bogle spun the sword deftly in his hands and presented the hilt to me before dropping to his knees. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘From the bottom of our hearts we thank you.’
I blinked. Er…
The confusion must have been apparent on both my face and Morgan’s. The bogle smiled slightly, an expression that was tinged with warmth rather than mockery. ‘It is not often that one of your kind respects our ways and acts accordingly,’ he said. ‘You aided Charrie and you aided his family. For that, we shall forever be in your debt.’
I was still flummoxed. ‘You know I might have killed him, right? I can’t remember because I have this amnesia thing going on, but there’s evidence that suggests I poisoned him. At the very least I dismembered his corpse.’ I frowned at the outstretched sword. Did the bogle want me to do the same to him? ‘That’s a pretty icky thing to do.’
‘We know what you did,’ he said. ‘And we know it was at Charrie’s request.’
I stepped back, forgetting that I was standing at the edge of the lake. Instead of meeting solid ground, my foot found nothing but air – and then water. My arms flailed helplessly as I pitched backwards. Morgan started towards me but the bogle got there first, lunging forward with his sword and snagging it deftly on the side seam of my baggy jeans before bringing me back up to my feet.
I stared at him. ‘That was a pretty slick move.’
‘Duh. I’m a bogle. Sword play is what we do.’ He flashed me a wink. ‘Not bad for a little green man, eh?’
Not bad at all. I flicked a glance at Morgan. His arms were tightly folded across his chest. He didn’t appear particularly impressed.
