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Brother Francis came out into the garden just in time to see a spruce, well-dressed nanny, complete with black boater hat, crouching down behind a medium-sized hydrangea bush, limbs pulled tightly around herself and head tucked down.
Francis cleared his throat. “Excu—”
“Ssshhhh!” Nanny Ashtoreth’s head popped up again, glaring at him through wide-lensed sunglasses. “Don’t make a sound!”
“What? Dear girl—”
Ashtoreth made wild hushing motions at him, until Francis closed his mouth and produced a contorted questioning expression instead.
“I’m hiding,” she hissed. “Warlock will be here any moment. Don’t give me away. He has to find me by himself.”
“I see.” Francis digested that, and the implications. He kept his voice low, out of courtesy for the finger still pressed against Ashtoreth’s lips. “You’re playing hide-and-seek with the Antichrist?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she demanded — less quietly than Francis himself, which seemed rather unfair.
“It looks like you’re playing hide-and-seek with the Antichrist.”
“Yes, well.” Ashtoreth lifted her chin, as primly and dignifiedly as any nanny could manage while squatting on the dirt behind a hydrangea. “I am.”
“You must be having fun.”
Ashtoreth shot him a dirty look, thus confirming that she was indeed having much more fun that she wanted to admit. “I am actually playing hide-and-hunt-down-with-no-quarter-for-the-victim. Training him to persecute his enemies with neither doubt nor pity, thank you very much.”
“I see,” said Brother Francis again, and frowned.
But before either of them could say anything else, a young, high-pitched shout rang out across the grounds: “Weady or not, here I come!”
With one last warning glower and lip tap, Nanny Ashtoreth hastily lowered her head again and pulled her arms in, so that only approximately a quarter of her corporation was visible through and around the edges of the bush as Warlock appeared around the corner of the house, hands cupping eyes scanning the garden and surrounding grounds, clearly intent on the hunt.
Brother Francis intercepted the small seeker with a cheerful smile. “Hello there, Young Warlock. And how are you today?”
“Vewy busy.” Warlock’s face was serious. “I’m looking for Nanny. She’s good at hiding. But I’m going to find her.”
With the strength of great will and forbearance, Francis did not look over his shoulder to where Nanny’s elbows and hat were sticking rather prominently out from behind the bush.
Instead, he smiled again and patted Warlock on the head.[1] “Why, what a lovely game that sounds like. I can see that it must teach you all about how we should always care for our friends and all of our fellow creatures.” Francis pretended not to notice the sounds of muffled, outraged sputtering emanating from the direction of the hydrangea. “After all, if anyone becomes lost or otherwise in danger, no matter how difficult it may be, one must always do whatever is necessary in order to help and find them and make sure that they are safe and well.”
Warlock blinked, eyes having briefly glazed over, then nodded doubtfully. “I guess so?” He brightened, looking inspired. “Can you help me look? ‘Cause Nanny’s your fwiend too!”
It was Francis’s turn to blink, caught off guard by the joint proposition and observation — the former entirely out of the realm of his experience, the latter a little too close to home for comfort. “Ah, but, er, I,” he tried. “Well, you see, I—”
He was fairly sure he heard the bush’s sputtering transform into a muted but distinct cackle. Ashtoreth was laughing at his predicament.
Well, then. If that was how it was going to be, very well. Francis would rise to the challenge.
He squared his shoulders. “I would be most delighted to join you, Young Warlock.” He offered a hand, and the Antichrist took it, small fingers disappearing in the hold of Francis’s large and well-manicured set. “Let’s go find your nanny.”
Side by side, the pair set off to search the far corner of the garden together — Brother Francis following Warlock’s lead and carefully not even glancing in the direction of the hydrangea bush. The least he could do, after all, was be a good sport and not give away Nanny Ashtoreth’s hiding place.