《Vale… Is Not a Vampire?》


 1.00 — Not Going South

    It was only the slightest tremble at my feet that warned me I had managed to attract the attention of another one of the adults. It was coming, to protect its brood, tunneling through the earth until it was right below its prey.


    I stomped the ground, sending my own strategically placed tremors into the earth to lead it to where I wanted it. I prepared my dagger. Then, I angled my body just right, presenting an exposed neck that I knew the mimixcoa would not be able to resist.


    The ground underneath me burst open. A gaping maw, a horror of jagged teeth trailed by a writhing worm of dung-colored flesh, lunged for me.


    When the worm came only inches from my neck, I plunged my dagger straight into one side of the head, and out the other. Its tubular body twitched a last few desperate spasms. Those were just reflexes, the creature already dead the moment I pierced through the nerve-centers it had for a brain.


    I held the slain monster up to inspect it, gave it a quick taste to make sure it was really dead, and flicked it onto the pile. It was another big one, this time the size of my arm. Thank the gods I got to this infestation when I did, or clearing this field would have taken three months instead of the three weeks I was spending on it now.


    I resumed my shoveling. Spade. Flip the earth. Stab and pick out one¡­ two¡­ three¡­ four slimy finger-sized white larvae. Next spade. It looked like mindless work, but there was a pattern to getting rid of mimixcoa. Another slight shifting of the ground beneath my feet heralded the arrival of the next adult.


    I went through the same steps: stomp the ground, ready myself, wait for the lunge, stab when it was mid-leap and couldn''t maneuver. The toothy thing skewered on my dagger got a scowl that contained three weeks of my pent-up frustration. Then I tossed it on the pile together with all its siblings.


    Somewhere underneath that giant mound of dead things was a wheelbarrow. Only the handles stuck out now. The stack of corpses I was amassing had grown to swallow the thing whole. And this was just from one night.


    It was endless, and I had to get all of them. Especially the adults, those hid deeper underground, needed to be lured out. If I only took care of the larvae, if I missed just one of the adults the infestation would simply come back twice as bad next spring.


    Aaaaah¡­ why are there so many?


    Three weeks of this! Three weeks of nothing but rooting around in the dirt!


    I sighed. One more day, maybe two, and then I would finally be done with this extermination and could go on my way to the next job. East would be the most sensible direction to set out in. There was always work for a monster hunter like me on the plains in summer, always a new horror to get rid of. Going south would be fun as well but¡­ no. I was not heading south. Nothing could change my mind on that. Not even my own treacherous longing.


    A low whistle pulled me away from my musings. ¡°Wowie lass, the number of those buggers ya dig up just grows larger every night, doesn¡¯t it!¡± The owner of this farm, my client for this job, gave me another variant of his usual excited morning greeting.


    I squinted against the pale strip of sunrise-orange glow at the horizon to make out the vague form cutting towards me through the fields. ¡°Morning!¡± I waved at him in fake cheer.


    ¡°Still slaving away at night, I see.¡± the good-natured male stomped over and attempted to engage me in the same brand of annoying small talk he went for every morning.


    ¡°Easier that way.¡± I wiped my gloves on my trousers to get rid of the worst of the worm-slime, and tugged at my braid, trying to get my hair into a semblance of order after a whole night of gruesome slaughter. ¡°Cooler than working in the midday sun as well.¡±


    Terrible as I was at small talk, I had probably said that line close to a dozen times myself. At least when talking with this man my inability to carry a conversation wasn¡¯t as noticeable as usual. He was nearly as bad at it as I was.


    ¡°And then to know that both times Old Cork had these buggers on his land, the hunter that showed up took care of them during the day. I so have to tell him his lads did it wrong. You¡¯re way more efficient at this than they ever were.¡± He circled the day¡¯s pile of carcasses in obvious admiration, and from a very safe distance.


    Please, don¡¯t tell him that. You¡¯ll get those hunters killed.


    ¡°Breakfast¡¯s waiting for ya, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I am nearly done here. I will go grab it in a minute.¡±


    ¡°Still can¡¯t convince ya to eat with us, can I lassie?¡±


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    I wanted to groan. This again. Instead of showing my annoyance, I laughed away his offer. ¡°Middle of summer? Busiest season for you. I can not impose and have you taking time out of your day to entertain me for three whole weeks now can I?¡±


    ¡°Yeah well, I still can¡¯t believe you¡¯re doing all this girl.¡± He gave me his usual bubbly laugh. It did little to hide the discomfort he felt at my continued refusal to partake in his hospitality. ¡°Especially with how little we¡¯re paying ya.¡±


    ¡°Free meals. Roof over my head. Cushy job to enjoy the summer instead of needing to face giant beasts that could fit all of me in their jaws.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I would say what you are doing is more than sufficient. Maybe I should pay you for all you are offering me. Especially considering you probably lost half a harvest to these things.¡±


    I was lying. I''d do anything to face something that would give me a real challenge, a proper hunt. But of course I couldn¡¯t show that. I had to lie, like always. As much as giant beasts were fun, if a lowly child hunter like me took on too many creatures that gave even Inquisitors pause then people would start asking questions.


    The farmer shrugged off my refusal with a little more awkwardness in his gestures than usual, then stood there for a moment, perhaps looking for words. I had deviated slightly from my usual reply, and now we were both off-script. Eventually, he simply gave up on continuing the conversation. Instead, with cautious steps he inched closer to the wheelbarrow, one hand slowly reaching for a handle.


    He hesitated, fidgeting with his overalls and studying the pile of dead creatures some more. ¡°Hooo boy, those are some nasty ones. You¡¯re sure they¡¯re dead?¡±


    I shrugged and leaned on my spade. ¡°Very dead.¡±


    One of his hands reached out again, fingers twitching and heart beating to the pace of his rising anxiety. With a quick poke he prodded at one of the larger adult worms to make sure, then he whipped his hand back. Three weeks of this and he still wasn¡¯t quite used to it. He was exaggerating in his caution. They were monsters, certainly, but it was not like mimixcoa were ever that dangerous.


    Except for the adults, with their ravenous ring of inch-long teeth on their tube-mouths. Adults the size of an arm, that could easily take your head off if you weren¡¯t careful. If I mistimed my stab when one of those adults lunged out of the ground, they could burrow their way straight through my neck. In fact, if the one the farmer had just prodded hadn¡¯t been properly dead it would have chewed the man¡¯s hand straight off.


    Only not dangerous to me.


    For everyone else¡­ this job is really skewing my sensibilities.


    The male took in a big gulp of air and rubbed his hands together. ¡°I¡¯m off with this then,¡± he stated to himself, his voice vibrating with feigned confidence as he gathered his courage.


    I hummed in assent.


    ¡°Same treatment as usual?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I nodded and suppressed a grin at his pointless stalling.


    Aaaah¡­ three weeks and still so scared. Sooo cute.


    ¡°Still can¡¯t believe ya can use them as fertilizer like this,¡± he blathered on to work past his fear of the things. ¡°I mean, that¡¯s just gold. See how many of them there are. It¡¯s never-ending and so much easier than manure. I¡¯d almost start wishing for an infestation every year.¡±


    Please don¡¯t. Oh gods, please don¡¯t.


    Three weeks of this has been enough for a lifetime.


    Finally, he grabbed on to the handles, heaved the overloaded wheelbarrow into motion, and carted the load of disgusting worms away.


    As soon as he was gone I got back to work. The sun was rising. It was already affecting my sight to a horrendous degree. I wanted to get as much of this done before I was blind and useless. Spade. Flip. One¡­ two¡­ three quick stabs to the larvae and I could pick ¡ª


    Ah! Hey hey hey, no! Not the finger! Not the finger!


    I grit my teeth and squeezed the horrid thing gnawing at my glove. Just the right amount of pressure on just the right spot at the back of their heads and¡­ there. The toothy jaw lost its bite and I pried the larvae from my glove. Another stab, this time in the right spot and it was properly dead.


    If they ever bite you, always get them loose before killing them. They¡¯ll never let go otherwise. Yes, they have a back of the head but no discernable back. No, I do not know why. The only thing I do is kill these things for a living.


    And I had done enough of that for the night. That mistake, stabbing the larvae in the wrong spot and letting it bite me, meant I was too damn blind to continue this. Traumatizing the client because I accidentally got half an arm chewed off was not the right way to perform this job.


    I collected my bowl of breakfast mush and retired to the little resting spot I had been given in their barn. Once I was safe in the shade I waited for a quiet moment where I was certain no one was observing me, and then discreetly fed my meal to their pig.


    <hr>


    Three days later, while I was busy packing my horse, the farmer whose barn I had spent three weeks living in came to see me off.


    ¡°So, where ya heading after this, Lassie?¡± He took a step forward, reaching for my horse.


    Without even a moment''s hesitation my trusty traveling companion, the traitorous steed, leaned in towards her new favorite human to receive her daily scritches.


    I gave Fern a tug on the reins to call her to order. ¡°South.¡±


    No! East!


    I wanted to stuff my own fist in my mouth. I was not going south. Why had I said that?


    ¡°Ah, Birnstead and Rivenston then,¡± the farmer nodded. ¡°Heard they had it bad in winter. Floodings and stuff. Don¡¯t know if there¡¯ll be much work for ya there, Lassie.¡±


    Oh yes, it was bad there. Bad and terrible and oh sooo wonderful and I am not going south.


    ¡°Really? Wow?¡± I feigned surprise, as his mention of the flooding was the perfect way to correct my statement. ¡°Might head east then.¡±


    I got on my horse. The road went south. That was fine. It would split later. I was not going south. When the dark of the woods swallowed me, I took off a glove so I could scratch a phantom itch. It was right there, on my arm. Now that I was this close to Birnstead, it just kept on bugging me, the itchy spot a reminder of where the little wildflower girl had prodded me.


    She had been so curious, and worried, and completely unafraid despite being aware of the claws I always, always hid behind gloves. The same claws I was now using to pick at the memory of her simplest touch.


    I am not going south.

 1.01 — The Farm That Lost Its Cat

    I shouldn¡¯t be going back there. I was doing so anyway for the worried little eyes that had asked me if I was dead. The little wildflower girl had caught me resting, half-naked, exposed in their barn. By all rights, she should have been terrified of me. Instead, she had only shown concern.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, it¡¯s okay, I thought you were dead.¡±


    That was the first thing the girl had said to me. There was no running away in terror, no screaming, no pitchforks and torches and burning at the stake. Just childlike innocence and honesty. When Onar¡¯s daughter had found me, she hadn¡¯t been afraid of the monster sleeping in their barn, she¡¯d been worried the monster might be dead.


    She had been eleven, barely half my age. I struggled to hold a conversation with people my age, so I had no idea where to even start with this kid. It turned out I didn¡¯t need to. Her honesty and innocence made it work. She led and I followed. We only spoke for a bit. Just a little, maybe half an hour at most. It was only after I had left that I realized how liberating it had been. A single moment of respite, of not hiding behind a web of lies.


    That was the reason I had come back here, to Birnstead. Out of this forest, right beyond that bend, there¡¯d be a little farm. A farm that maybe hadn¡¯t yet gotten a new cat. At that farm lived the first person I¡¯d been comfortable enough around to not pretend.


    While recalling these fond memories I rebraided my recalcitrant black locks. Three days of wilderness travel had turned my already hard to tame hair into a tangled mess. My lifestyle as a wandering monster hunter didn¡¯t exactly help me at looking presentable, but I still tried. With my incessant pale skin I looked enough like a wraith as it was. I really didn¡¯t need a bad hair day to make it worse.


    The quiet rustle of leaves and the earthy aroma of moss faded into the gentle swaying of grasses in heavy ozone-laden air. I squinted into the sun as the darkness of the forest made way for harsh sunlight and oppressive summer heat bearing down on me.


    That squinting was a lie, a habit I had developed over time. People did it when faced with sudden bright light, so I did too. Yet while everyone else¡¯s eyesight adapts, for me the path ahead would turn from slightly blurry to a mere haze of colors and shapes no matter what I did.


    It was a miracle I managed to find my way with eyesight this bad. A miracle named Fern. Just a nudge in a general direction was usually enough for her to choose the right path. I caressed her neck. Good horse.


    I shoved my pointlessly meandering thoughts to the back of my mind before they could get away from me and stopped where I assumed the fence was. My annoying tendency to worry and overthink gets especially bad on hot, sunny days like this. Wandering musings wielded as a distraction from the pain and the debilitating weakness. It wasn¡¯t just my eyes; all of me wasn¡¯t good with sunlight.


    Worry nagged at me as I surveyed the yellow-green smudge of fields in front of me. I might have taken a wrong turn somewhere. I might be staring dumbly at a completely different farm. Or maybe what I was looking out over wasn¡¯t even a field at all. It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t recognize anything. It was merely that the vague brown blob a little further to the left was hopefully the barn and not a giant rock. My eyesight was simply that bad.


    Not really knowing what I was looking at wasn¡¯t the only thing I worried about. It wasn¡¯t even my greatest concern right now. The wildflower girl knew a little of what I was. It was dumb for me to return here, to a place where so many of my secrets had been exposed, even if only to a child.


    At least passing by here isn¡¯t intentional.


    I¡¯ve only taken a couple of odd turns.


    Yeh, odd turns.


    Just a little accident.


    Completely un-in-tended.


    I shook my head and breathed out hard. I supposed you could call it a sigh, a very frustrated sigh. I hadn¡¯t magically gotten any better at fooling myself, would probably never get better at it. I was far too accustomed to my own lies for that. My entire life had been a lie after all. Since before I was born, really. You could almost say I lied as easily as I breathed.


    Almost.


    I didn¡¯t breathe. Every breath you saw me take was a lie. That¡¯s how good I was at lying to other people. I hated it. It¡¯s why I had been on the road for... nearly a year now. It was so much easier to hide from your own lies if you remained on the move.


    It had been six months ago, that one mistake, that one time that I hadn¡¯t lied. I had let my guard down around her, even when I should have known better. I had been running ever since. The truth meant death. As by some miracle it hadn¡¯t found me yet. Returning here wasn¡¯t just dumb, or a little reckless, it was stupid dangerous.


    I scrunched up my nose and tasted the air, hoping to catch even the vaguest hint of her. I didn¡¯t. The hot air caressed my back, the wind coming from the wrong direction to catch much of anything in front of me. Not a trace of her. Not by sight, smell, or sound.


    Dumb. Pointless. Suicidal.


    I shifted my weight and Fern got the message, continuing on along the path.


    Was really fun though, that morning, in their hayloft.


    Real scary, but sooo fun.


    It would have been so nice had she still recognized me. Doubtful though, with how traumatizing the events from that night must have been. If she remembered anything it would be the raging river and the mud, swallowing buildings whole. It might even be better if she didn¡¯t remember me, safer for me. It would mean a smaller chance of me ending up dead.


    Even riding off I was still thinking about her. So yes, leaving here was for the better. If just one instant of honesty did this to me... I wasn¡¯t sure my heart would survive a second time. Who knew, maybe I¡¯d find something less aimless to busy myself with somewhere on the way to home.


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    ¡­home?


    Aaah¡­ am I getting homesick?


    I shook my head in an attempt to get rid of the unwanted bout of nostalgia. I wanted to huff, I wanted to pout, needed to get it out. Just a little bit of childish indulgence. But not here, not this close to civilization, not where someone could see me act out.


    Oooh¡­ how hopeless I am.


    Just¡ª


    ¡°Oy! Vale!¡± A harsh shout came from behind me, clipped tones, and a tinge of anger.


    Ah? That voice!


    It can¡¯t be?


    Captivated by hope, and with a tiny sliver of fear that it would prove false, I turned around in the saddle. By the fence, right where I had stopped earlier, stood a vaguely person-shaped blur, a kid-sized morsel, smelling ever so subtly of wildflowers caught in a sudden spring gust.


    ¡°What the heck do you think you¡¯re doing, passing by without even stopping to say hi?¡± The wildflower girl leaped over the fence and stomped towards me.


    ¡°Shae?¡± I held in the reins, forcing Fern to a stop.


    It¡®s her.


    It¡¯s really her!


    But she¡¯s so bossy. I don¡¯t recall her being that bossy.


    The girl''s pace quickened, first bounding, then dashing towards me. With a big ¡°Ooof!¡± she slammed into Fern¡¯s side. Arms wide, she attempted to hug both my leg and all of Fern¡¯s massive ass at the same time.


    ¡°Oh gods, it¡¯s really you!¡± she sobbed, rubbing her cheek on my leg. ¡°I thought I¡¯d never see you again. You just left all cool like and all and I thought I didn¡¯t care but I did and... and...¡±


    Like this, looking up at me with barely held back tears, she sounded a whole lot more like the little girl I knew. I patted her head. My mouth was open, but words refused to come out. I wanted to tell her all the same things. How I¡¯d come back because I¡¯d wanted to see her. Somehow I couldn¡¯t. Those six months had created a distance.


    Aaaah, why is this so weird?


    Just say something already!


    ¡°Allow me to dismount first, yes?¡± I told her.


    Ugh, that was terrible!


    ¡°I can not hug you back from up here, you know,¡± I amended my previous statement.


    Even worse.


    We had fun before, why is this so awkward now?


    I¡¯d spent so long keeping up this mask that it was hard to let go, even when I wanted to. This girl that I had no trouble opening up to before, it was so hard now. Suppressing my embarrassment, I slid down from Fern¡¯s back.


    I stumbled, underestimating how much the sun weakened me and slowed my reactions, but hid it by letting the fall carry me into a hug. I might never have done it if I hadn¡¯t tripped. I never hugged. Yet now it was an easy way out, both a means of hiding my unsteadiness and a way to fix the uncomfortable distance between us. I pulled her close and pushed myself up to the tips of my toes to match her height. She wrapped her arms around my back and leaned her head on my shoulder in response.


    So big! She¡¯s really grown.


    Soon she¡¯ll be taller than me¡­


    Don¡¯t want her to be taller than me!


    Just the right height for¡ª


    All too soon I was reminded that I was breaking one of my own rules. I never hugged. It was too dangerous. With her youthful neck this tantalizingly close I could feel the pulsing of her blood. Her sweet scent teased my nose. My teeth ached.


    I shoved her away from me as fast as I had hugged her.


    To offset my sudden breaking of the hug I worked my face into a genuine and gentle smile, safe in the knowledge that no matter how awkward I felt, unintended emotions would never show on my face. Unexpected embarrassment would never flush my cheeks red, sudden fear or startled surprise never widened my eyes, pain never made me wince. My face was a mask, and all it ever showed was what I wanted it to.


    All of me was a lie, and so Shae remained oblivious to my awkwardness. Bouncing with excitement she dragged me along with her. ¡°Come on. Come on! We¡¯ve got a little gate over here. You can follow the path to the barn from there.¡±


    Shae guided me along, babbling about her day to fill in for my silence. I shambled after her, my free hand on Fern¡¯s flank, partially to lead my horse, partially for extra support. Today¡¯s sun really was merciless, and it was messing with my coordination more than I cared to admit. Thankfully, their barn wasn¡¯t far.


    ¡°You go on ahead, stable Fern and all. I¡¯ll be right there. Just got to wrap up and... stuff.¡± In front of the door, the little farmgirl gave me a playful shove, then dashed off through the fields.


    Aaaah¡­ she even remembers the name of my horse. How sweet!


    Did I even tell her that? I don¡¯t recall telling her.


    I led Fern inside, glad to be out of the sun. Plenty of light streamed in through the open door, but at least there was shade. That allowed me to recover a little. My footing became steadier, my body no longer reacted with a barely perceptible delay and my eyes became once more capable of seeing more than vague outlines.


    I traced a gloved hand along a beam, fingers following the grain of the wood, as I took in the atmosphere. Small as this thing was, the air still held the same mix of old wood, manure, and dried hay as when I¡¯d rested here half a year ago. It wasn¡¯t much of a barn at all really. There was a bit of storage, the hayloft where I had rested, a small pigpen, but not even a proper box for a horse. That made sense. This was only a tiny village after all. Maybe over time, this would grow into something larger.


    Aaaah¡­


    Shae had seemed so happy. Happy enough for there to be a slight pause right before she had said stuff. The way she had accentuated that last word made it clear that she would rather be doing absolutely anything other than... stuff.  It felt nice, knowing my visit was a welcome distraction, even if I was kind of imposing on them. Dropping in like this in the middle of a hot summer day probably wasn¡¯t very considerate.


    Really just her and her dad on this farm, isn¡¯t it?


    They must sooo have a ton of work¡­ and here I am bothering them.


    I took my time in the barn, recovering from the sun, stabling and brushing Fern. I had already shown up uninvited. Hanging around in front of their door while they hastily finished up the farm work for the day would only make things even more awkward.  I supposed I could always offer to help out. I¡¯d rather not though. The sun and I absolutely did not agree. The shade of the barn was just fine.


    ¡°Vale? You in here?¡± the energetic little girl shouted from the open door.


    ¡°Yes, yes, coming. Let me just finish brushing off Fern,¡± I answered.


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯m heading inside. Got to get dinner ready. Just drop in when you¡¯re done,¡± Shae explained. Then she was gone again as fast as she¡¯d popped in. Seconds later her head popped into the doorway once more. ¡°You¡¯re staying for dinner, yeah?¡±


    Back already?


    Where does she get the energy to bounce around like this?


    Wait?


    Staying for dinner!?


    ¡°No, no. It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m good.¡± I tried to brush her off. Internally I grimaced. In my effort to avoid imposing any more than I already had, I¡¯d achieved the exact opposite. Brushing off my horse clearly telegraphed intent to stay the night here. I didn¡¯t even want that.


    Aaaah¡­ but a normal night would be sweet.


    I wasn¡¯t good enough at lying to myself to keep claiming I was only passing through. But even then, I really didn¡¯t want to stay for dinner. That would only get all kinds of even more awkward.


    ¡°You sure? We haven¡¯t gotten a new cat yet,¡± Shae sang. She tilted her head to accentuate the words and gave me a lopsided grin.


    Oh no! The cat¡­


    I kept my face neutral. For this once I had to work to keep my expression passive, instead of having to force it to display emotion. She was just so¡­ incredibly¡­ chipper about this. It was just...


    Ugh! How can you be so chipper about that?


    I ate your damn cat!

 1.02 — Of Little Girls and Slayers of Demons

    ¡°You are not upset about that?¡± I managed after trying on half a dozen equally inappropriate expressions, finally settling on a frown.


    The question itself wasn¡¯t important. I simply needed more time to work through all the possible implications of Shae knowing about me eating the cat. Most of them were deeply troubling. All of them were things I should have considered before returning.


    ¡°I kind of was¡­¡± Shae hesitated, finger pushing against the bottom of her lips. For a moment I feared she had noticed my inner turmoil. That fear proved unfounded when she continued answering my question as if nothing was amiss. ¡°But when my dad found out he got super upset and all angry and stuff. It was kind of hard to remain mad at you when he was being¡­ so dramatic¡­ about it.¡±


    My worry deepened the further Shae got with her rambling explanation. Of course, she could only know about the cat if her dad knew. And he knew because I had been an idiot. I really should have been more careful with the body.


    It had been a while since I¡¯d last eaten, and well over an hour spent fishing people out of a raging river hadn¡¯t improved my hunger. Then taking care of the lemongrass-and-cotton woman¡¯s hypothermia. After that feat, I¡¯d been more than ravenous. It had been well past midnight by the time I had crashed here in their barn. I¡¯d snatched the cat simply because it was the first edible thing that wasn¡¯t a person. Then I¡¯d stripped out of my muddy, waterlogged clothes, and drifted off. In the early morning, Shae had stirred me from my torpor. I only remembered I had forgotten to dispose of the cat after I was long gone.


    ¡°It was kind of funny actually, after a while,¡± Shae continued her rambling explanation. ¡°Then he got really angry at me for laughing about it too.¡± Shae pouted at that.


    ¡°Ah. Right,¡± I gave another noncommittal response, while I was slowly coming to a very simple conclusion.


    Need to leave.


    Right now!


    If Shae¡¯s dad knew, then he had probably found the cat¡¯s body, maybe even connected the dots from there. He might not have. There were a lot of things about me and my actions that night that defied the logical conclusions. But with how things were going in Ostea, logic was no longer an excuse I could wield.


    I did not want to leave, not after such an unexpectedly warm welcome from Shae. But I had survived so far by treating all potential issues as life-threatening. My wants had nothing to do with it.


    If only I had buried that cat, then maybe...


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    I shook my head and steeled myself. I shouldn¡¯t make excuses. They couldn¡¯t change the past. I¡¯d get Fern saddled and leave again. No one but Shae had seen me so far. I still had time to get out. Yet as soon as I resolved myself to this course of action Shae¡¯s pout turned into a frown and she crossed her arms.


    ¡°You¡¯re leaving!¡± There was a hint of anger in the young girl¡¯s voice, and a lot of disappointment. ¡°Again!¡±


    ¡®m sorry!


    ¡°No, Shae... look... I...¡± I  stammered as I failed to find the right words. I always left before getting to know people, so I had no idea how I was supposed to extricate myself from this. There were probably phrases and platitudes people used to excuse themselves, ways a conversation like this was supposed to go. Yet I did not know them.


    ¡°Why do you do this!¡± Shae stamped the ground and balled her tiny fists.


    She looked so fierce and angry and vulnerable, standing there in the doorway. I had to do something before her shouting attracted attention. Or before she started crying. I did not know which of the two would be worse. Acting motherly was the only thing I could think of.


    I don¡¯t know how to do that¡­


    With no other ideas coming to mind I approached her and put my hands on her shoulders. With us being approximately the same height the gesture felt uncomfortable.


    Aaaah¡­ I don¡¯t want another person I need to look up at.


    I soldiered through my cringe-inducing self-consciousness. My¡­ developmental issues would have to wait. Shae needed words of encouragement¡­ or comfort. Not more of these awkward pauses while I struggled with my thoughts.


    I looked her in the eyes. Or tried to. Being this close to the exit of the barn and the sunlight streaming in already worsened my eyesight to the point where I could barely make out the features of her face. Holding her gaze I opened my mouth. I did not get a chance to speak. Suddenly Shae was gripping my wrists, pulling me forward. Unprepared, hissing in surprise, I stumbled, out of the barn, into the sunlight.


    ¡°You¡¯re not leaving!¡± the girl grinned as she dragged me along, giving me no time to recover.


    Lightheaded and disoriented from the sudden sun exposure I was forced to follow just to keep my footing. I didn¡¯t even know where to place blame for this, with my own stupidity, or with this manipulative little shit dragging me along.


    How?


    What did I do to deserve this?


    No, this was all on me. I had been blinded by her kindness, honesty, and maturity. But in the end, she was still just a kid. All of the pouting and the foot-stomping and the almost tears from earlier were probably just an act to get me to lower my guard. She would not get me like this. I was a monster hunter. I wrangled demons that could tear down houses for a living. Setting my feet I yanked my arms free and¡ª


    I nearly fell as Shae grabbed me somewhere else and pulled even harder.


    I only took on the big scary demons at night because I was weak and pathetic in the sun. With this heat, keeping up the struggle wasn¡¯t going to get me anywhere. I gave in before the whole thing could become unsightly. I¡¯d excuse myself properly and leave in a civilized manner as soon as she stopped throwing a tantrum. I¡¯d just step inside for a second, recover from the sun... again... explain why I needed to go, and leave.


    My plan did not survive being shoved through the front door. Shae had barely shut it before she hugged me from behind and broke down sobbing on my shoulder. I was left awkwardly patting her head and uttering reassuring shushing noises until she calmed down.

 1.03 — Promises of a Crazy River-jumper

    I took the time Shae¡¯s emotional outbreak gave me to assess her home. I hadn¡¯t actually been inside last time, so I was a little curious, especially when I noticed the hint of strawberries in between the homely, earthen fragrance. My nose traced the fruity whisper to a room to the right, where the aroma was joined by that of various spices, something smokey, and freshly slaughtered chicken.


    The living area itself breathed a cozy mix of Shae¡¯s breezy wildflowers and Onar¡¯s crisp and nervous not-quite-yeast, with a large hearth, a hardwood table, and some chairs. There was another room through a door to the left, and a smaller second floor was accessible with a ladder.


    Most importantly, there was no sight of Onar. That meant I might still get out of here without needing to confront her dad.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Shae mumbled as she finally let go of me.


    I had no idea what I needed to be thanked for so I countered with a question instead. ¡°Where is your dad?¡±


    ¡°Oh Vale it¡¯s been so... hard, harder than when mom died,¡± she nearly broke down crying again.


    I grit my teeth, turned towards her, and hugged her once more, breaking my no initiating hugs rule for the second time in one day. I¡¯d manage my urges somehow; she really looked like she could use a shoulder to lean on. Gently stroking her back, and pointedly not looking at her neck, I tried to think of something else, anything to distract me from the tantalizing closeness of those delicious arteries.


    What happened to her father?


    Is he dead?


    Right. That thought definitely counted as something else. Yet despite its morbidity, it was an effective distraction. Trusting that I could now open my mouth without chomping down on her neck I mumbled ¡°It¡¯s okay¡± at her until her sobbing subsided.


    Choking back a couple of sobs the girl loosened the grip she had on my back. Then, with frequent pauses, she began to explain. ¡°Ever since the river there¡¯s been so much work... rebuilding... everything. Daddy¡¯s been helping out most days¡­ so I¡¯ve been doing all of the farm and stuff and... and...¡±


    As this little girl poured out all her emotions on my shoulder I didn¡¯t know what to think. No wonder she had seemed so much more mature at first. She¡¯s had to grow up, basically overnight.  Meanwhile, I had done what I always did. I had saved a bunch of people from a raging river as it tore apart houses all around me. And in the early morning, before the people of this little village could even begin to comprehend the scope of what had happened to them, I had left.


    Left them with all of the mess.


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    I hadn¡¯t even thought of these things until now. I never did. These were people. They had lives. And that meant more than not treating them as food, more than treating them as income, or assets I could use. No matter how much I traveled, it was a thing I just kept on forgetting.


    I had mostly tuned out Shae¡¯s barely-coherent rambling as I thought back to all the other villages I¡¯d stopped at, all the other lives I had never even considered when I heard her mutter something that brought me back to reality.


    ¡°Wait¡­¡± gripping her shoulders a little tighter I got her to break off her muttering. ¡°What attack?¡±


    There were several seconds of only her ragged breathing and the beating of her heart. I pushed her back a little so I could look her in the eyes once more. I deliberately studied her face to get her to focus on me. Her trembling wide lips, the set of her jaw as she tried to restrain her sobbing, the way her coppery hair was braided and knotted at the top of her head, all of it only made her look more vulnerable.


    ¡°Un¡­¡± she sobbed. ¡°Uncle Tare¡­ he was dragged away by some monster¡­ and¡­ and¡­ now they need to guard everything until we can get a hunter and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Where? What kind of monster? When was this?¡± I interrupted the girl with my own string of questions.


    Shae froze up. These questions of mine came too fast, too abrupt. She couldn¡¯t keep up with this sudden shift in gears. I could see it in her eyes, see her struggling to come to grips with my line of questioning. My dad had trained me well. Perhaps too well. I was a monster hunter, I knew all the right things to ask in order to get to the heart of the matter in the least amount of time. Only, now wasn¡¯t the time for speed, but for compassion.


    Gently squeezing her shoulders I gave her my best, most reassuring smile. Mouth closed. No fangs. Never fangs. Except for that one time six months ago. She was fine with them then, but I wasn¡¯t so sure now, not when a monster attack had clearly happened not so long ago.


    Really can¡¯t have her thinking of me as a monster right now.


    ¡°By the river. Three days ago.¡± Shae nodded, finally catching up with the determination in my eyes. ¡°I dunno what it looked like¡­ maybe dad does. It... it came from the water they said, just grabbed onto his leg and...¡±


    Now I knew what question I had missed. The one question I should have asked first. That any sensible person would have asked first. The question that would show compassion more than any facial expression ever could.


    ¡°Uncle Tare, is he...¡±


    I choked on my own words. Spoken aloud what I had intended to ask sounded a lot less sensible. How was I even supposed to finish that sentence?


    Dead?


    Alright?


    No possible ending seemed right. Were these even the kinds of questions one was supposed to ask? It pained me to be confronted like this with how little experience in interacting with people I really had.


    ¡°They pulled him out of the water,¡± Shae rescued me from needing to finish my question. ¡°He... his leg...¡± she petered out. Then her face lit up. ¡°You... you healed Miss Meg, right? Could you... you can right?¡±


    Now here was a question I could answer without hesitation. This didn¡¯t involve wondering about whether or not returning here was a good idea, didn¡¯t require fretting about the suspicions Shae¡¯s dad held about me. I wasn¡¯t magically free of those worries, but I¡¯d deal with them later, because above all I was a hunter, and this was the right thing to do.


    I hugged Shae close again. ¡°I can, and I will,¡± I reassured her while stroking her back, ¡°and I can do more than that too. I am not just a crazy lady that jumps into rivers, Shae. I am a hunter, and I will take care of this monster for you.¡±

 1.04 — Not Sure About Those Vegetables

    ¡°You will? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!¡± Shae jumped me in glee the second I told her I was going to both heal her uncle and take care of the monster that had attacked him. I endured a couple of seconds of this before firmly putting her back on her own two feet.


    ¡°No more hugging.¡± I gave her what I thought passed for a mildly stern expression. I was done with hugging, and I hoped I could keep being done with it for more than five minutes now.


    The disheveled girl shifted her weight from foot to foot, almost as if she wasn¡¯t sure what to do with herself now that she wasn¡¯t hugging someone. It was exhausting, and oh so different from the wide-eyed curious little thing I¡¯d met six months ago.


    ¡°Are you going right now or...¡± she eventually offered, eyes trained on my face.


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted, looking at her feet, ¡°I¡¯ll go and take a look tonight.¡±


    Her description of the monster was beyond vague. I had some ideas, but not enough to go on. I¡¯d first need to do some careful scouting to figure out what I was facing. Even something as basic as that I wasn¡¯t going to do in the light of day. Anything capable of wounding a grown man in the way Shae had described was dangerous, and I remained pitifully weak in the sun.


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± her shoulders slumped.


    Oh indeed. I¡¯ll really need to stay for dinner now. Shae¡¯s dad¡­


    Sooo not looking forward to this.


    It appeared I was stringing along these bad decisions at a record pace. There had been a clean way to avoid encountering Shae¡¯s dad, and I had missed it. I should have told her I was going to check right now. No one needed to know I would only really do it in the middle of the night. I could even have gone to check up on uncle Tare first.


    What if Shae¡¯s dad shared his suspicions with the other villagers?


    He totally would have. No sane person kept those kinds of things to themselves. Checking up on uncle Tare would mean encountering those other villagers. Already one half of my promise was turning into a horrifyingly dangerous situation for me.


    Aaah¡­ how did I get myself into this mess?


    And how am I going to get myself out of it?


    I supposed that theoretically, I could still run away... but after the kind of promise I¡¯d just made¡­


    I really can¡¯t¡­


    Not just yet at least.


    ¡°You going to help me with dinner then?¡± Shae asked from the door to the kitchen.


    ¡°Um... sure?¡± I answered while I struggled to get my thoughts aligned with the sudden change in subject. Only after my answer did I realize what I had agreed to. I did not know how to cook and most certainly wouldn¡¯t be joining them for dinner. I followed her into the kitchen anyway.


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    ¡°Could you just¡­¡± Shae started directing me, halting mid-sentence to look me over with a questioning frown. ¡°Um¡­ are you going to keep wearing all of that?¡±


    Right. I was still in my full riding outfit. Cloak, gambeson, boots, gloves, the works. It was honestly a bit excessive in this kind of weather. No one ever questioned it after I told them I was a monster hunter and this was for protection. They didn¡¯t need to know I was protecting myself from exposure to the sun more than anything else.


    I studied my outfit, trying to figure out how much I should take off. There was probably some kind of etiquette surrounding this, which I would know if I ever entered other people¡¯s houses. Lacking said common sense I merely draped my cloak over the first chair I found and returned to the kitchen. What was acceptable in taverns would just have to be acceptable here as well.


    ¡°Just do the vegetables while I take care of the chicken,¡± Shae gestured while handing me some kind of knife.


    I eyed the pile of vegetables, then the knife, then the vegetables again. I thought they were beets. Maybe. Hopefully.


    Do the vegetables?


    Do what to the vegetables?


    She handed me a knife so I probably need to cut or peel them or something?


    Then maybe... cook them?


    I don¡¯t know how to cook!


    Thankfully it did not take long for Shae to notice just how lost I was. She took back the knife and demonstrated what I should do. ¡°Good, and now it¡¯s your turn.¡± She motioned me over.


    I reached for the knife she was still holding. Instead of handing it over she held it further out of my reach and fixed me with a stern gaze. ¡°Take off those gloves. Those can¡¯t be convenient.¡±


    I eyed her with suspicion. Here was yet another new side of her I didn¡¯t know of. Stern, with deliberate intent. Somewhere along the way she¡¯d even wiped her eyes and fixed the unkempt mess that her hair had become. It wouldn¡¯t work on me though.


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± I stated. I was not taking off my gloves. I never took them off around people. Not even when no one was around if I could help it. You never knew, maybe someone would pop up out of seemingly nowhere. Yet when I reached for the knife again it was Shae who held my shoulders. At times like these, I hated being this short.


    ¡°Vale.¡± Shae started kneading my shoulders. ¡°I can see you like to hide, I really can. But I¡¯ve seen you half-naked. There¡¯s nothing you need to hide from me.¡±


    It was frustrating. From the gentle kneading of my shoulders to the compassion in her voice, she was better at this than I was. I was supposed to be the adult, yet she was making my earlier attempts at consoling her look like the amateur work they were.


    She¡¯s eleven. Eleven!


    Where has she learned this?


    How many talks like this did her dad have with her?


    The worst part was that I knew what she was attempting. It was that strange distance that loomed over our relationship now. She was trying to clear it, trying to make me feel at ease, make me feel comfortable about being myself around her. It might even have worked earlier. But now that I knew about the monster attack¡­ I stared at my gloves.


    She so wants me to stop hiding this.


    Really don¡¯t want to remind her that I¡¯m one of the monsters though.


    Aaaand what if her dad comes home?


    No, I couldn¡¯t grant her this. I wasn¡¯t taking the gloves off. Instead, I gave her a shoddy, toothless smile. It was a little bit lopsided, a deliberate mix between apologetic and embarrassed, and hopefully enough to hide my real reasons. In response Shae slowly let go of my shoulders, her hands sliding down my¡ª


    I jerked back when I tasted the triumph in the air.


    Crafty little piece of¡ª


    Not getting me like this!


    What happened to you?


    When did you get this manipulative?


    ¡°Good, now the other one,¡± Shae smirked while waving one of my gloves in front of my face.


    She got me anyway. Fooled by a kid twice in one day. I stared at my ungloved left hand. Suppressing a hiss I flexed my sharp claw-tipped fingers. She was lucky I liked her.

 1.05 — When Innocent Questions Can Slaughter a Beet

    I was looking down because I did not want to subject Shae to the look in my eyes. Keeping my face passive might have been more natural for me than emoting, but the same could not be said about my gaze. Even emotionless, passive, unbreathing, my father could tell what I was thinking simply from the look in my eyes. I did not want to risk the small chance that Shae could do the same.


    Deserves it!


    Treating me like a little kid¡­


    Knows I¡¯m one of the monsters.


    Shouldn¡¯t be this reckless.


    Yes, I decided that I did want to risk it. She was allowed to know that this pissed me off. She needed to be made aware that I would not tolerate this. I wanted her to learn that you did not mess with a monster, no matter how nice they might seem. So I glowered at the hand she held out towards me, patiently waiting for the other glove. Snarling I threw it at her. She snatched it out of the air before it could hit her face.


    ¡°Yeah, totally cute.¡± Shae tsked, tucked my gloves in the back of her trousers, and then held the knife out for me again. When I reached for it she cupped my hands in hers, intertwined our fingers, and brought her face close. ¡°Still not scared of you.¡±


    It was a mask, this offhand remark of her. I had seen through it. She could not lie to the master-liar. There had been a momentary widening in her eyes when I had snarled, accompanied by an acceleration of her heartbeat. Fear, present in everything from her posture down to her scent. Even the words she spoke and the way she reached for my hands were just a way to mask her fright. I wanted to kick myself. It didn¡¯t matter how good it felt. Scaring the one person in this town that wasn¡¯t afraid of me wasn¡¯t a smart move.


    Shae gave my hands a last little shake, then let go and pointed at the worktop. ¡°Now get to work.¡±


    She really doesn¡¯t get it, does she?


    She¡¯s so lucky she didn¡¯t cut herself on my claws.


    I glared up at her one last time, then got up on the tips of my toes to reach for the first vegetable. They were beets. Shae had confirmed it for me. They felt a bit squishy for beets though. Maybe that was just me. I barely knew what a beet looked like.


    With an awkward hold on the knife, I made my first incision. It truly was pathetic. I knew three different ways to skin an animal but had to be told how to cut vegetables. While both involved a knife, somehow none of the skills translated. Vegetables didn¡¯t have legs or spines.


    Sooo¡­ they won¡¯t really care if these are cut a little weird, right?


    No. No, they wouldn¡¯t. By the end of the second beet, I¡¯d sort of gotten the hang of things. A little. Only a little. By the time I was halfway through the third beet the scratching and clucking of chickens coming in through the window was beginning to annoy me. I took that as a hopeful sign. I was getting good enough at this to have attention to spare on annoyance.


    Actually, on both my annoyance and on the dissonant mix of emotions mingled in between Shae¡¯s wildflower taste. It made me think back to Shae¡¯s actions, how she¡¯d provoked me. While her being scared of me was an issue, it wasn¡¯t the heart of the matter.


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    It¡¯s¡­


    I¡¯m not human¡­


    People that¡­


    I do not like where this train of thought is going


    ¡°So...¡± Shae hesitated, interrupting my dark thoughts.  ¡°When you healed Meg, did you use magic?¡±


    ¡°Yeh.¡± I nodded, eager for a change of subject.


    ¡°Daddy claims monsters can¡¯t use healing magic,¡± she speculated, still eagerly working away at the chicken.


    ¡°Um¡­¡± I stared at her back, unsure of how to respond to that, but with a great deal of caution. Maybe this line of questioning meant she was at least somewhat aware of how dangerous I could be. After the gloves, I doubted it though. Which meant she was going somewhere else with this. The dark juxtapositions now present in her scent made me suspect she might not be certain herself where she wanted to take this.


    ¡°Will you use magic to heal Uncle Tare as well?¡± Shae inquired hastily, as if sensing my hesitation.


    ¡°Maybe. I will need to assess his injuries first,¡± I latched on to the safer topic.


    ¡°Can I watch?¡± the girl pleaded, turned towards me now.


    Eh? What?


    ¡°No!¡± I shut her down with a hasty shout. Maybe it was a little too abrupt and loud, but I really did not need people watching while I was healing people. I didn¡¯t even know the extent of the man¡¯s injuries. She was only eleven and wasn¡¯t supposed to get this excited over watching horribly mutilated monster attack victims.


    ¡°Why not?¡± she begged.


    ¡°It is not something you should be watching.¡± I sighed.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a kid,¡± she insisted. ¡°I can help,¡± she twirled a finger on the tabletop, glanced down, then looked at me through lidded eyes. I wondered if she was finally going to get to the topic she¡¯d been dancing around for so long. Eventually, she exhaled in a highly exaggerated fashion. ¡°Daddy called you a vampire...¡±


    She sort of left that dangle in the air and I sucked in a harsh breath, afraid that if I didn¡¯t breathe as loud as I was doing now that I¡¯d forget to keep pretending to breathe entirely. My claws cut deep into the beet I was holding, all the way to the wood below.


    I should have run!


    Why didn¡¯t I run?


    I have to run!


    ¡°... I mean, you¡¯re not right? Vampires are evil and you healed people so you can¡¯t be a vampire,¡± Shae blurted out in a single breath, perhaps sensing the sudden tension in the air.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a vampire,¡± I answered just as fast, almost talking over her. Far too fast for a natural answer.


    Why? Just one day. One moment of carelessness. A second of letting down my guard. A single act of kindheartedness. Just once that I didn¡¯t walk away.


    This is why I avoid people, why I keep up this whole charade.


    It was no longer a possibility now, but a fact. Her father knew. I had to leave, right now. I should never have returned here. If they had called for a hunter or alerted the Inquisition then I was dead. It didn¡¯t matter what I¡¯d just promised.


    Uncle Tare can go die in a ditch for all I care.


    They all can!


    Palming the mutilated beet I turned to leave. Shae was pressed up against the counter, as far away from me as she could, eyes wide.


    What did I just do?


    What did I say?


    What kind of crazed look must I have on my face that makes her react like this?


    Is it because she just considered I might really be a vampire?


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡± I rushed past her. I didn¡¯t care anymore. Grabbing my cloak I headed for the door. Shae still had my gloves. That didn¡¯t bother me, I always carried spares.


    ¡°Vale! Wait! I¡¯m sorry...¡± Shae pleaded behind me.


    I turned towards the girl standing in the kitchen. ¡°I wasn¡¯t here, right. No one came by here. Someone else. I don¡¯t care. Just not me,¡± I begged her. I so hoped she¡¯d listen. Either way, I¡¯d have to ride through the night. Several nights, at the least. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I shouldn¡¯t have come here.¡±


    I really was sorry. If the Inquisition came for me it wouldn¡¯t just be my life that was at risk. I ... cared for someone. I cared for her and I had to run.


    I rushed out the door. Sunlight assaulted me, and I struggled to retain my footing through the sudden shift from the protected indoor environment to the harsh outdoors.


    ¡°Shae! Did you take care of the pig, as I asked you?¡± A voice from somewhere off to the left. Less than fifty paces. Around the corner. Crisp. Nervous. Not-quite-yeast. Her dad. My heart sank. I was dead.

 1.06 — Small Pleasures of Life

    I was completely unprepared, still reeling from my sudden exit into the sun, when Onar called after his daughter. Of course he had to return home right at this time. Of course I had to have this kind of bad luck. I didn¡¯t even bother running after that. Instead, I readied for a confrontation.


    Standing up straight I wiped all unwanted emotion from my face, balled my hands into fists, and partially stuffed them in my sleeves to hide my claws. Then I released the iron grip I usually kept on my senses ever so slightly. Blinded by the sun I¡¯d need every edge I could get, and the extra awareness my nose provided was a very potent one.


    I tasted the heavy, ozone-laden air to follow Onar¡¯s approach with my nose. His not-quite-yeast scent was enveloped in content obliviousness and the tiredness of a day¡¯s hard work. When the man rounded the corner I looked up at him and waited for his reaction.


    At first, there was only confusion apparent in his posture, but after a couple more seconds he recognized me and froze up. Sun-blind as I was, I could only guess at his expression. I didn¡¯t need that guess to judge his reaction. I was certain his bushy eyebrowed, fat-cheeked face was contorted in a startled grimace. After all, the fragrance of his blood hinted ever so vaguely of surprise. The rapid acceleration of his heartbeat indicated shock.


    In response to his surprised reaction, I plastered a faint smile on my face and altered my posture accordingly. That smile was for where we¡¯d left off six months ago. That¡¯s how I started this game, by playing the simple traveling hunter, checking up on friends made during a winter flooding. Slowly, as Onar¡¯s shocked silence stretched on, I let a little bit of worry seep into my expression.


    ¡°You!¡± Onar barked, breaking from his stupor. The unspoken accusation was all too present in the tone of his voice.


    I pretended to flinch at his aggression, let my smile waver a bit, and turned my slightly worried frown into a wary one. The wariness was there for the anger in his voice and the so far unspoken vampire accusation. I wasn¡¯t even going to try denying that. Shae had told me herself. Any attempt at lying about it would be seen through in an instant. No chance of Shae backing me up. The girl would never lie to her own dad for me.


    ¡°Hey?¡± I murmured, letting a slightly deferential, questioning tone accentuate my worry. ¡°I was merely passing through, thought I might as well drop by, see how everyone was doing.¡±


    ¡°You!¡± The gruff farmer repeated, still rooted to the spot.


    His incredulity and fear hung heavy in the air. That was good. He had not expected me here. I had caught him off balance, was probably further unbalancing him by remaining so casual about everything. That was an advantage I could press.


    ¡°Dad! Wai¡ª¡± Shae burst out of the front door.


    ¡°What did you do to my daughter!¡± Onar bellowed over Shae¡¯s shout. He rushed towards her, wrapping himself around her body protectively. It was nice of him to do so. At this distance, only a couple paces from me, I could actually sort of vaguely see where he was looking at. Being able to read him a little better only served to improve my bluffing.


    Shae began protesting, trying to squirm out of her father''s suffocatingly protective grasp. From Onar¡¯s behavior, it was increasingly likely that he believed his own vampire accusation. That I could use as well.


    ¡°We were preparing dinner?¡± I replied with the most banal, yet unexpected answer I could. I even made it a question, thus daring him to challenge my statement.


    Shae appeared caught off guard by my answer. She stopped pushing her dad away and stared at me. Her dad kept checking her over, gaze constantly switching between Shae and me. It actually gave me an idea. I had to get this conversation moved to either the side of the house or the barn. Maybe even their living quarters would do. While I could go by people''s tone of voice, heartbeat, and scent for a little while, I couldn¡¯t see enough in this sun to discern expressions. Very soon now that would become a disadvantage.


    ¡°I need you to go inside Shae.¡± Onar broke the silence and tried to push his daughter towards the door, placing himself between me and her.


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    ¡°Dad! No! Vale! It¡¯s okay!¡± Shae no longer appeared to know who she needed to address first.


    ¡°Now Shae!¡± Onar reached for something near the door as he snarled at his daughter. The thing he picked up was long, like a staff, or a rake, maybe even a pitchfork or a broom. He pointed one end of it towards me in a threatening manner.


    I restrained myself from holding my hands out in a placating gesture. That wouldn¡¯t have the intended effect without gloves. Instead, I took a cautious step backward.


    ¡°Please leave. Just leave us alone?¡± the farmer pleaded.


    That was unexpected. I had planned for him to be aggressive, angry, threatening. I was prepared to deflect accusations. Yet he was pleading. It would be way harder to deny an accusation that was never voiced. So I turned to the girl hesitating at the door. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Shae. I wish I could stay, but¡­¡±


    Shifting the conversation to her was a controlled risk. It was something you would do if you were lying. Only I was doing it in direct response to Onar¡¯s actions. He wanted me gone, while Shae was trying to calm him down. Me trailing of that sentence was equally deliberate. Finishing it would mean portraying myself as the victim, another amateur mistake.  Now they would fill in the blanks in their own mind.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare talk to her you monster!¡± Not-quite-yeast Onar gestured wildly with whatever he was holding.


    He was clearly terrified, he tasted terrified. The pleading from earlier was probably his fear speaking. With a bit of luck, his aggressive posturing was merely out of protectiveness for his daughter. I could work with that as well. Changing my plan once more I let the Not-quite-yeast¡¯s aggression wash over me. I inched back to the side of the house step by careful step. Meanwhile, I measured on a new expression, slightly wide-eyed but with a determined slant to my mouth.


    Right before I rounded the corner I gave a quick placating gesture with my hands. It was fast and short, then I went back to hiding my fists in my sleeves. The man wouldn¡¯t be able to notice my claws like this. The human eye isn¡¯t very good at spotting details in quick movement, especially at this distance.


    One more pitiful ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡± and I left them. Starting towards the barn I kept my ears trained on the sounds behind me. Even though I was now out of their sight I was still going slow, dragging out my retreat to give the both of them time to relax.


    After a solid eight seconds I heard their door open. Using that as my cue I swore under my breath, just loud enough for them to hear it. When I poked my head around the corner again I was faced with a very tense Not-quite-yeast, holding the door open for his daughter.


    ¡°Um¡­ Shae¡­ my gloves?¡± I offered with an innocent smile.


    Shae had tucked them in the back of her trousers. She was the least scared of me, and as it was her that had tricked me into taking them off, I was counting on her being the first to adapt to this unexpected question.


    ¡°Shae! No!¡± The Not-quite-yeast reached for his daughter as she ducked underneath his arms. A vague blob came flying at me. Her aim wasn¡¯t perfect. My gloves landed in the dirt a couple of feet in front of me. I crouched down and snatched them off the ground. Just a fraction of a second again and my claws were hidden behind the leather.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I smiled, got up, hid an almost-stumble behind a quick wave. Then I was gone again. My Not-quite-yeast toy now had one more unexpectedly disarming interaction with me to contend with, and I was no longer leaving behind a pair of gloves with suspicious claw marks on the inside.


    A couple of seconds later I popped round the corner once more. ¡°If I run into another hunter I will tell them about the attack, send them your way.¡± I might have been pushing things with that statement, but I couldn¡¯t help myself.


    Aaaah¡­ so fun.


    A little too fun. Time to leave.


    I rushed over to the barn. Still uncoordinated from the sun¡¯s oppressive heat, the rushing I did wasn¡¯t much more than a stumbling fast-walk. The heavy heat only seemed to grow as the afternoon wore on, and even the wind had died down.


    I was glad for the momentary reprieve the barn¡¯s shade gave me. It meant being able to saddle Fern without having to fight for control over my body. Loss of control, that¡¯s exactly what the sun did to me, why it made me so weak and uncoordinated. The Tonaltus based rays of the sun unraveled my very own Metzus energy I needed to animate this body. It had made all of the fine muscle control that had been required for that elaborate ruse with Not-quite-yeast Onar incredibly straining.


    Keeping my senses focused on more potential threats sneaking up on me meant it wasn¡¯t the fastest saddle I¡¯d ever done, but it was still plenty fast. Thankfully Fern was used to a quick saddle and scram. This was probably the first time we were running from people instead of monsters though.


    I rode Fern out, spurring her on to jump the gate, then turned her towards the center of town and Crockover wood. I edged her into a gallop until we were well past the village, then slowed down to a gentle walk. My goal was distance, I wouldn¡¯t achieve that by riding my horse to death. Only then did I let go of the iron grip I had held on my emotions so far.


    Dark clouds covered the sky by the time I had gotten some of the distance I wanted. Birnstead and civilization firmly behind me I fished the raw beet I had been cutting out of my pants pocket. It was fibery, grainy, a little slimy, and tasted like snot mixed with dirt. There wasn¡¯t a lot of human food that was appetizing to me. The beet was close to inedible. It would probably leave me nauseous and constipated for most of the night. But with it eaten, the claw marks I¡¯d left on it were gone as well.

 1.07 — A Longing for Quiet and Company

    An hour after dusk, and thoroughly soaked by the downpour I¡¯d gotten caught up in, I turned off the road, heading east into Crockover wood and towards the Maru river. There were three reasons for this: they would expect me to follow the road, the trees would keep me a little drier, and Fern had already ridden a lot today so needed the rest. There was a fourth reason as well. It was the most important reason, but I wasn¡¯t ready to admit I was lying to myself just yet.


    The trees in Crockover wood were all tall and wide, with a high and dense crown. That meant little undergrowth to slow Fern down. I loved places like this. Quiet and majestic, I could wander between trees like these for days.


    I rode as silent as I could, enjoying the patter of the rain and the earthen smells of the forest around me. Completely alone, I found myself taking off my right glove. Sliding my thumb into the other glove I kneaded the palm of my hand.  The soothing sensation as my thumb drew little circles on my skin calmed me even more than the peaceful atmosphere of the forest. Touch. I missed it.


    Aaah¡­ how long has it been since the last time I actually touched someone, skin to skin?


    Metzus to skin?


    Six months, that¡¯s how long ago it was, and with the same person as well. Returning here, I hadn¡¯t even known half of what I was missing. Shae had held my hands for only a couple of seconds. It had been too short and too long at the same time. ¡°Still not scared of you,¡± she had told me, and instead of cherishing the moment I had glared at her. Now I wanted more, and doing it like this wasn¡¯t the same, no matter how much I pretended otherwise.


    Thinking back on it, she had done the exact same thing she did six months ago. She had made me feel human. More human, at least. No matter how much massaging my own palm soothed me, I could not ignore how dry and cold the skin underneath my thumb was, or how my claw scraped over my own flesh with every little circle I drew.


    Even the unnatural paleness of my own hand stood out in this darkness, so I shoved it out of sight, feeling under my gambeson for the beating of my heart. Even that was a lie. I needed a heartbeat even less than I needed to breathe. I worked the muscle anyway, its steady rhythm carrying the hope that I was more than the unnatural vessel I showed the world.


    My finger touched the cord of my necklace. I followed it down to the amulet resting further down on my chest. I gripped it, the silent hum of its runes warming my cold skin. It was still there, still working. I didn¡¯t need to feel it to know it was doing its thing. I¡¯d be dead if I ever stepped into the sun without it. Occasionally, I fingered it anyway. It was my most precious possession. Irreplaceable.


    All too soon we reached the Maru. A little away from the water I picketed Fern. Never stubborn or ill-tempered, it was nice having a horse like her, a horse that endlessly endured all the abuse I threw at it. She could rest now. I would not.


    These early hours of the night were liberating. Without the sun bearing down on me I could see. I could walk without fear of tripping over something I hadn¡¯t spotted. I could run. I could go places without needing a horse to avoid getting lost. I could live without the constant searing rays of the sun wearing me down.


    Most nights, while Fern slept, I wandered. Not all of it, just until a little past midnight. Tonight was not one of those nights. Taking along my blade I went on by foot. Following the river, I headed back upstream, towards the village.


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    The banks of the river were a mess. Giant tracts of mud and driftwood lined the sides. Broken trees and washed away undergrowth were all around me. The devastating power of that flood from six months ago was even more apparent than I had anticipated.


    Once I got a little closer to the village I began looking for pawprints, tracks, broken branches, anything that could point me in the right direction. Anything that wasn¡¯t yet washed away by the summer storm still pouring down out of the skies. I didn¡¯t know exactly what I was looking for, but I trusted that I would recognize it when I saw it.


    While Shae hadn¡¯t known what kind of creature had attacked uncle Tare, I had at least a couple of ideas. That was why I was searching the river bank. I wasn¡¯t going to actually do this extermination job. That would be foolish. No, I was just looking for some extra information so that when I sent another hunter this way they¡¯d at least have something to go on.


    I took my time and tracked the way my father had taught me, relying only on what I saw and learned.  It would be easy to use my nose as a crutch, so I rarely did. If tracking was easy, then I would become complacent. I couldn''t afford that kind of laid-back approach.


    At the edge of town, I brushed my soaked-through hair behind my ears, crouched behind a bush, and observed for a while. The only thing that moved was the curtain of rain pouring down from the heavens. The only sound a howling wind that sprayed water all over me, even here, hidden in the underbrush.


    No one was out at this time of night, there never was in places like this. According to Shae they¡¯d had to guard everything since the attack. Clearly, everything did not need guarding at night, or during a thunderstorm.


    Hah! Idiots!


    Creeping from shadow to shadow I resumed my hunt for tracks. The erosion caused by the river wasn¡¯t quite as bad here as further down, but the damage was still clearly visible. Some clean-up work had obviously happened. The remnants of washed away buildings had been cleared out, and the pier had been rebuilt. A new mill was still under construction, as well as new housing slightly further away from the river.


    A  large stack of felled trees lay on the bank near the pier. Those trees were the reason Birnstead was here. It was a town built around logging. The river was used to drive the felled trees to the much larger sawmills downstream in Rivenston.


    I found the first semblance of tracks under the pier, faded, half washed away by the water. I measured them, then ran a finger through the mud and brought it to my nose. Ahuizotl. An ambush predator, sort of halfway between a wolf and an otter. They generally don¡¯t come this far south, so the winter flood must have brought them here.


    They lived in small family units and weren¡¯t all that dangerous. Until late summer, that is. That¡¯s when the babies hatched and more food was needed. After second harvest that small family unit would have grown to a dozen ravenous beasts.


    I scowled as I cataloged every last trace I could find of the creatures. It was the latter half of summer, dangerously close to that second harvest. I¡¯d need to see if I could find a den, prayed there wouldn¡¯t be one. Three days to Rivenston meant it would be a week before another hunter could get here, assuming that there even was another hunter present in Rivenston, and that I could convince them to come here. Those were a lot of ifs.


    The more plausible scenario was that I¡¯d need to submit an extermination request and wait for another wandering hunter to stumble into Rivenston and take interest. That made two to three weeks a more realistic timetable. Without night guards the people here didn¡¯t have those two to three weeks.


    So foolish of them, chasing off the one hunter that could have helped them.


    How could they be this dumb?


    It was only a matter of time before the people working near the river would be attacked a second time. When that happened it would no longer be just the one overly-curious ahuizotl taking a small nibble. It would be a slaughter. I needed to figure out how bad it was, get another hunter out here as fast as I could. I swept my gaze over the riverbank, surveying all the places that showed signs of work, logging, rebuilding¡­


    Oh¡­ oh¡­


    Rebuilding¡­


    Onar¡¯s helping with that.


    If he gets attacked...


    Shae¡­


    I really needed to find that den.

 1.08 — Dumb, Caring, Self-destructive Things

    Fretting over the town¡¯s predicament I ran my fingers through the water. The river was every bit as wet as it had been this winter, and still had a good three feet of depth. I¡¯d have to cross it. There hadn¡¯t been anywhere near enough traces of the ahuizotl on this side of the river so I would need to continue my search on the other bank.


    The temperature of the water didn¡¯t really bother me all that much. I didn¡¯t get cold, or sick. Wet gear was still an issue though. I should have brought Fern, then I could have gotten across on her back. Now I¡¯d be running around in sogging wet¡­ everything¡­ for days. Well, wetter. I was already thoroughly soaked from the rain. Even my cloak had its limits.


    Sticking my tongue out to catch a stray droplet dangling from my nose I resolved myself. Dallying wouldn¡¯t magically make me less wet so there was no point in postponing. Grumbling in annoyance I waded across the river.


    Not even a minute later the rain stopped, as if to spite me. Drenched all the way up to my armpits I looked up to the sky. The clouds were dispersing fast, revealing the first slivers of moonlight. Ahuizotl are crepuscular, active during twilight and on moonlit nights. With the rain gone they¡¯d come out. That would give me an opportunity, as long as I could locate their den before they left it. My eyes followed the current. Downriver first.


    Half an hour later I scowled up at the sky once more. I''d found the den a little further upstream, beyond a small bend, dangerously close to the village. Three sets of fresh tracks led out. I was too late. They were out hunting. The den itself was too large for just three animals as well, so there was definitely a nest in there.


    I could wait here, destroy the nest now, and nab the three that were out when they came back from their hunt. It would be risky though. As soon as I got one the other two might run. The only guaranteed way to get all three of them was to come back tomorrow evening, shortly before sundown, catch them when they came out of their den.


    Yes, apparently I was doing this now. I didn¡¯t bother debating the merits and demerits of my chosen course of action on my way back to my makeshift camp. I was a foolish idiot and a terrible liar. Continuously reminding myself of these things wasn¡¯t going to change anything.


    Instead of lambasting my own stupidity, I worked out a plan. Fighting at least three ahuizotl, potentially before sundown, was going to require some serious preparation. There wasn¡¯t anything overly complex involved. I had done plenty of similar exterminations before. Time would be a limiting factor, however. It was going to be a long and painful night. Rest would have to wait until sunrise.


    As my plan was simple, I was back to fretting long before I got back, despite my best intentions.


    Aaaah¡­ I¡¯m really doing this, aren¡¯t I?


    What¡¯s gotten into me?


    Where¡¯d these self-destructive tendencies even come from?


    Is it stupidity?


    Have I started caring for these people?


    Maybe stupidity and sentimentality were the same thing. At best my actions would buy me a little bit of gratitude. Gratitude that would all too quickly pass. No matter how much kindness I showed, the longer I lingered, the more I interacted, the more they would realize that I was different, dangerous. Their wariness would turn to fear, fear to hatred. And from there, hunters, the Inquisition, and death.


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    I could still change my mind, walk away, let someone else take care of their problems. Yet when I returned to my makeshift campsite I did not do the sensible thing. I did the dumb, caring, self-destructive thing. I unpacked my crossbow and set out for a hunt. I wasn¡¯t doing this on an empty stomach. No, that beet from earlier did not count as food.


    <hr>


    I swallowed, despite the tangy taste. The fox¡¯s blood wasn¡¯t bad, yet edible and filling was not the same thing as delicious. A diet of blood and meat got old fast, especially when you saw people around you enjoy fruits, vegetables, cheeses, and candied spices. I wanted those as well. One day I hoped to taste all the foods people raved about, without this body telling me that the things I was shoving into my stomach were not helpful.


    My father had spent years trying to get me to give up on the notion of eating human food. Even now, hours later, the beet sitting like a brick in my stomach was proving his point. I could fix that, go through the effort required to actually digest the thing, but that wouldn¡¯t actually do anything. Food like that simply could not sustain me.


    So I ignored the beet clogging up my stomach for now, sat down against a tree trunk, unsheathed my sword, and touched a finger to the runes etched along its blade. Focusing inwards I prepared to recharge them.


    My dad had been an Inquisitor before he¡¯d become a hunter. What magic he¡¯d learned from the Inquisition, he had taught me. Or tried to teach me at least. All of their magic was Atlus and Tonaltus based, life and day. Channeling these incompatible energies through my Metzus based vessel was not a pleasant experience. At best I¡¯d dissolve myself from the inside out, at worst, let¡¯s just say it got explosive fast.


    I tended to avoid magic for those reasons, focusing instead on rune crafting. The runes I crafted still needed the same Atlus and Tonaltus to function, but unlike with magic, I could channel the energies slowly. A trickle was far less likely to tear me apart than a flood. The resulting runes could be imbued with the same effects most of the time. They were far more versatile actually. In return, they needed time and preparation.


    I supposed I could be called lucky, I at least had a little Atlus and Tonaltus in my core. Without them, all of my father¡¯s teachings would have been pointless.


    The little I could gather in my core wasn¡¯t a lot, enough to work with, but not much more than that. Over time I¡¯d learned to work around these natural deficiencies. I was nothing if not efficient in my casting. In fact, I might be able to teach most Academy-trained mages a thing or two about efficiency.


    With my body''s eyes closed, I focused on my true self, visualized my core, reached into its soupy tangle of energies, and waded through the snaking tendrils of my Metzus until I found a Tonaltus cluster. I coaxed out a single thread from the cluster. Then, setting my jaw I yanked the thread out and directed the energies to the runes of my blade.


    The horrid squelching sound that always accompanied my Tonaltus manipulation was hopefully just my imagination, but the spongy feeling that slithered in my bowels and the oozy moistness squishing over my bones was there nonetheless.


    For most of the night, I spent my time in agonizing torture, recharging the runes on my blade, carving runes on 18 flat stones, and then charging those runes as well. After only a handful of minutes, the slow agony of the Tonaltus energy coursing through my body became little more than a dull ache. Yet the unnerving feeling of my skin separating from my blood-soaked bones every time I moved even a little remained with me for the remainder of the night.


    That was why I needed the blood from that fox. The accelerated healing that feeding provided me could counteract the damage my rune crafting inflicted on my body. Without my regenerative abilities¡­ Sometimes I wondered¡­


    What if my vessel ever doesn¡¯t heal?


    Only long after the first rays of the sun had crested the horizon could I curl up between the roots of a particularly large tree and rest. Dense forests like these really were amazing. The sun didn¡¯t penetrate. Nestled between these trees I was safe from its rays.

 1.09 — Obviously Missed Shovels

    I first heard people while I was still picking my way through the mess of brambles and tree stumps. A cluster of loud voices signaled that I was getting close to town. Their boisterous attitude indicated they thought themselves safer than was wise.


    Tasting the air, scrunching up my nose, I searched for potential threats. There were four men in this loud group. There were another two males and two females a bit further out, and three females further still. I spent a moment trying to match the vague blurs of my surroundings and the scents in the air with my memories from last night in an attempt to place these people at locations.


    The four men were coated in the pungent odor of heavy exertion on a hot summer day, and the deep, slightly charred aroma of wood shavings. That placed the three women somewhere near the center of Birnstead, and the other four somewhere in the stretch of forest at the other side of town.


    Aaaah¡­ do I really have to do this?


    One of the four near the sawmill was Not-quite-yeast, Shae¡¯s dad. I did not look forward to facing him again. Unfortunately, with where everything was, approaching the other two groups would be near impossible without attracting the attention of the rest of town. As I did not want this turning into a public spectacle, that left me with either skipping this step altogether, or facing Onar anyway.


    I seriously considered it, not warning them. In the end, my sense of responsibility won out. The ahuizotl nest was too close to the village. If anyone heard me engage those things and came looking¡­ the monster extermination would be hard enough without needing to protect overly curious bystanders. Also, I needed a shovel.


    Really should be informing whoever¡¯s in charge of this town as well.


    Yeh, not going to do that. Hairy enough as is.


    Alert for danger I led Fern out of the trees and towards the sawmill group. The first to spot me was the one whose blood hummed with the delightfully smoldering fragrance of hot embers. His alertness told me he was probably the one that was tasked with keeping a lookout. That he¡¯d noticed me so soon meant he was at least semi-competent.


    When the Hot-ember-blood guard turned towards me I held in Fern¡¯s reins and granted the other three the time to notice me as well. The wind slapped a strand of my hair in front of my eyes. Last night''s storm had turned my braid into a mess, and I hadn¡¯t gotten around to fixing it yet. Approaching a semblance of dryness had taken priority, not that I¡¯d been particularly successful at that either.


    When I pulled my hair away from my eyes, more to keep up the illusion that I wasn¡¯t blind than anything else, the shifting mist of cedarwood man spotted me as well. ¡°Hey, look at this!¡± he exclaimed.


    ¡°Huh, it¡¯s just a kid?¡± Hot-ember-blood scoffed in response.


    ¡®m not a kid!


    I ignored the insult and continued observing. The Hot-ember-blood scented man, perhaps convinced I did not pose a threat, relaxed his posture and hefted something onto his shoulder. It was probably a bow or something, though I really couldn¡¯t tell. Compensating for my eyesight with my other senses had its limits.


    The sun also made me terrible at describing people. Don¡¯t ever ask me to give accurate and easy-to-digest descriptions. I¡¯m not good at it. I couldn¡¯t even tell if someone sported a beard half the time; the tall one only worked up to three people and the third one from the left required people to not move around. So instead I cataloged by smell, and hoped I never accidentally named anyone by their scent in public.


    Hunger made it worse. And I was hungry. That one fox from last night wasn¡¯t anywhere near enough to compensate for what the rune crafting had done to my body. I had at least some basic visual markers to go on, yet I was still failing to use them.


    Not-quite-y¡ª ¡­Shae¡¯s dad was the next to notice me. ¡°You!¡± he hissed, not quite pointing at me, but close to it, and stretching out the word as long as he could. My trepidation towards him looked to be well-founded. The man was way less cautious now that he didn¡¯t have a daughter to worry about.


    ¡°Yeah, ain¡¯t that the kid that helped us during the flood?¡± The one with a whiff of near-translucent moldy leather stood up straight, ignored Not-quite-yeast Onar¡¯s outburst, and addressed the broad-shouldered, Cedarwood-scented one. ¡°Miss what''s her name again?¡±


    Really!


    Not a kid!


    I wanted to glare at Hot-ember-blood and Moldy-leather. I was not a child. I was merely... less developed than most people my age. Onar already had my focus though and I couldn¡¯t glare at three people at once. Besides, these two calling me a kid actually seemed to be the friendliest of the bunch.


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    ¡°Ah, yup, you¡¯re right, it is her.¡± Cedarwood gestured towards the much shorter Moldy-leather, perhaps hoping that the man could jog his memory. ¡°Vae-something right?¡±


    I think he tilted his head at me¡­ maybe?


    Stupid sun.


    Stupid eyes.


    ¡°Vale.¡± I accepted Cedarwood¡¯s question with a nod, gave them the same name I¡¯d given half a year ago. ¡°Vale Bryce.¡±


    Meanwhile, the fuming Onar took a step forward, forcing the other three to acknowledge his fury.


    ¡°So, this is the girl you think is a vampire then?¡± Moldy-leather asked him. ¡°She don¡¯t look so dangerous to me.¡±


    Not a vampire!


    Even knowing the vampire accusation would come, I fought to suppress a wince. It stung. More than when Shae had asked. Way more than I had expected. I was nothing like those things that had fucked up an entire continent. They were the reason I had to spend my life hidden behind lies, fearing death by Inquisition. I wasn¡¯t anything like those things. I wasn¡¯t that monstrous.


    Wasn¡¯t!


    Wasn¡¯t?


    ¡°She is a vampire, Krav!¡± Onar seethed at Moldy-leather. ¡°You saw the cat just as well as I did.  She was also leaving. Clearly, that was another lie.¡± then he turned to me and spat out his next words. ¡°What¡¯s your game, demon? Come to woo someone else now that you couldn¡¯t get my daughter?¡±


    Yeh, waaay angrier now.


    I let the man¡¯s fury wash over me. As long as he kept up his irrational screeching my calmness would make him look like the unhinged monster. Especially since the other three weren¡¯t outwardly hostile towards me. It even appeared as if Onar was only now telling the others about my visit yesterday afternoon. That was something I could use, maybe break the usual social dynamic of this group a little, isolate Onar from the circle of peers he thought he had.


    ¡°I am leaving!¡± I snapped back, directing my response only towards the furious man. While doing this I nudged Fern ever so slightly closer towards the group, subtly edging myself in between Onar and the other three. Seated on her I had the height advantage, and I was going to use it.


    Turning in the saddle I addressed the three men to my right in a  much more controlled tone. ¡°But I did not save some of you half a year ago to see you slaughtered now just because you do not trust me.¡± I took a couple of moments to pretend-steady my breathing, then continued at barely more than a whisper. ¡°You have got a nest. Eight to twelve hungry ahuizotl kits somewhere in the next one to two weeks.  If I leave and have to send for another hunter ¡­¡±


    I let my sentence trail off, sighed loudly, and glanced slightly down and to the side of the group. They could fill in the conclusion themselves. And they would. Other hunters wouldn¡¯t get here in time. Right here in front of them was one that could help them; she was extending her hand, offering to help of her own volition, despite the unwarranted hostility from Onar.


    I looked up through my eyelashes, glancing from face to face. It was another one of my fake gestures. I couldn¡¯t read their faces in this sun. I didn¡¯t need to. Their posture, smell, and pulse told me enough. Cedarwood sucked in a breath and snapped around to look at the river at my mention of ahuizotl, so that was at least one person that had an inkling of what they were dealing with. My fervor appeared to be enough to silence Onar as well.


    Haaa¡­ offer other, more immediate threats, present self as solution.


    Sooo easy.


    After a couple more seconds to let everything sink in I pointed vaguely upriver. ¡°The nest is beyond that bend.¡± I paused for effect, granted them the time they needed to realize how close by that was. ¡°I will need a shovel to dig it out, and I need you all to stay away while I am taking care of things.¡±


    Cedarwood was the first to react, running off for a shovel. I hoped he hurried. The other two groups had noticed the commotion and were coming this way. People were coming out of houses as well. This was turning into a crowd, and with Onar¡¯s antagonizing it might quickly turn into a mob. I could work three people, but not a dozen.


    To my surprise, Cedarwood did not have to walk more than ten paces. There was a shovel right there apparently. I pretended as if I¡¯d seen it all along and that this was obviously the shovel I intended to requisition. The man surprised me once more when he held out the shovel for me. He came close enough that I did not have to reach for it, and this despite the urgent cautioning from Moldy-leather for him to keep his distance.


    That Moldy-leather was regaining enough caution to speak up about it meant I needed to hurry this along. The arrival of more people was causing them to reevaluate, think things through. Onar¡¯s quiet seething wasn¡¯t helping either. Angry ranting was easy to dismiss, calculated coldness not so much.


    Soon these people would realize that there could be both an ahuizotl and a vampire threat at the same time. From there it was a only small leap towards me making up the ahuizotl, or me working with those things against the town.


    I nodded to Cedarwood in appreciation, then tilted my head towards Onar. ¡°Out of consideration for your desire to not see me again, I will leave the shovel there when I am done. Simply come fetch it in the morning and none of us need to see each other again.¡±


    I thanked the group with another quick nod, then I steered Fern in a wide arc around them all, towards the water. My swift exit might have been overly cautious, but Moldy-leather¡¯s insistence that Cedarwood keeps his distance proved to me that the vampire accusation had taken root, despite me walking around in the sun.


    Stupid Ostea.


    I was definitely getting out of here as soon as this job was done.


    ¡°Stay away when I am busy. I mean it,¡± I cautioned them one final time before crossing the water. ¡°I should be able to keep them away from the village, but not much more than that.¡±


    ¡°Hey, you sure you¡¯ll be okay on your own?¡± Hot-ember-blood shouted after me. It surprised me. I hadn¡¯t actually expected any one of them to show that kind of concern, especially not that one. Now both he and Cedarwood had shown willingness to set aside their fear. That was way more than I could have hoped for.


    Still two too many that fear me.


    ¡°I will be fine,¡± I shouted back, smiling and waving despite my continued worries. ¡°I jumped into a raging river before. How much harder can this be.¡±

 1.10 — This Sucks so Much

    One by one I placed the eighteen stones I had prepared yesterday evening. Their exact positioning wasn¡¯t super important; a vaguely circular shape with stones at equidistant intervals was sufficient. It would have been a nightmare if they did need more precise placement. With my eyesight, even the gray stones closest to me were only barely distinguishable on the dull, sandy riverbank.


    Once activated the runestones would create a Tonaltus field in the space they encircled. With the little energy I had infused them with it would only be enough to weaken, not to debilitate or kill.


    These runes were one of the reasons I didn¡¯t want the villagers to witness this. It wasn¡¯t just about their safety. Tonaltus fields were an Inquisition trick. My father would be executed if they ever learned he had spread their secrets.


    Inquisitor runes like these ones were also the reason I wanted to stay clear of the Inquisition at all cost. Against hybrid Metzus-Atlus creatures like an ahuizotl they were effective.  For someone like me who had an exclusively Metzus vessel, I wouldn¡¯t live long if I stepped inside that field.


    I had encircled the entire lair with the stones, leaving only the entrance tunnel outside the field. Doing it like this would drive the ahuizotl out. Then, at the entrance, while they were still recovering, I would be waiting for them.


    Such was the theory anyway. They¡¯d recover fast. Real fast. I glanced up at the slowly setting sun. We were on the west bank, but the lair was too far from the treeline. The shade from the trees didn¡¯t reach the entrance yet. I¡¯d be fighting these things in the sunlight, just as weakened as they were, maybe even more so.


    Wait for the shade?


    The idea was tempting. If I waited a little longer, let the sun drop a little lower, behind the trees, then I could fight them in the shade. But that would be cutting it close. If they woke up before then I¡¯d be in an even worse position. Still just as weak, yet without the element of surprise. So no, I really couldn¡¯t wait this out any longer.


    Of course, an actual Inquisitor would have tackled this situation entirely differently. They¡¯d put down a much more potent field, over a much wider area. They¡¯d fight the ahuizotl inside the field itself, so they remained weakened. Neither of those things would ever be an option for me.


    Aaah¡­ this sucks so much!


    Testing the limits of control over my body in the sun, I jumped up and down a couple of times. I¡¯d need to do a lot more than simple hops in a second. Focus was essential, freedom from distractions. I exhaled one final time, then stilled my breathing and my heart.


    Just like last night, I reached deep inside me. When the familiar squelch that sounds like my insides turning to mush came, the world tilted. Blinking away the pain I fought to stay on my feet.


    The Tonaltus slipped from my grasp. Grimacing I dove after the fraying strands of energy before they could dissipate. My knees hit the dirt, then my hands as I struggled to remain conscious. Something shifted in my gut that felt like it really shouldn¡¯t be doing that. I held out, reclaimed control.


    Really so much worse than I remembered.


    Sun and casting, shit combo.


    Never doing this again. Please don¡¯t forget that this time.


    I really should have been prepared for that. I knew doing this was going to be terrible out in the sun, but even then I had underestimated just how bad it was. Too much rune crafting in too short a timespan. My unnatural healing was slowly catching up though. Momentary excruciating pain was a price I gladly paid for the advantage it would give me.


    Fighting through the worst of it I crawled towards the first runestone. Touching it with two fingers I activated its runes. The tiny extra drain of the activation sent fresh pangs of agony deep into my core. Not letting go of the energy, I moved on to the next stone, and the next. After the fourth, I managed to scramble to my feet. Finally, I had activated every rune except for the last one right next to the entrance of the lair.


    Crouching at the ready at the entrance, blade drawn, I activated the last stone and the runes on my blade in quick succession. Then I cut the connection to the Tonaltus inside me. In every fight, activating my blade¡¯s runes always came last. They were¡­ complicated. They were sort of like a Tonaltus field, but on top of the containment layer, there were extras for sharpness, deliberate destructiveness, and some other minor effects.


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    The range of the projected field only extended an inch or two beyond the blade.  That was enough to be dangerous to me. If I kept the blade far enough away from me it would be about a minute before I no longer had the hand that was holding its hilt. If the blade accidentally touched my body¡­ I¡¯d be a smear on the ground.


    So now the clock was ticking. I grit my teeth while my right hand, the hand gripping the hilt, burned from the inside out. Agonizing seconds ticked by. A moistness that most definitely wasn¡¯t sweat pooled into my glove.


    I adjusted my grip on the hilt to account for the new slipperiness. Even those tiny finger movements sent pain lacerating up my arm. I worked through the pain, knowing it wouldn¡¯t take long before my hand would be so far gone I was no longer able to feel it. Then the mound in front of me quaked. The first ahuizotl erupted from the hole in the ground. As it did I dashed past the opening, sword held out.


    The enchanted blade sunk into the side of its skull as its jaw opened to grab on to my arm. Instead of the jaw snapping shut, the blade cut through skull and bone and tendon like it was little more than loose sand. The lower half of its skull fell down to the ground and the mutilated monster followed soon after.


    Meanwhile, I crashed hard on my shoulder and rolled awkwardly. My jump had been aimed to deliver a killing blow, not to make a pretty landing. Already I struggled to keep a grip on the hilt through my fall and subsequent roll. It had taken too long for them to come out. Not much longer now and all I¡¯d have left in that glove would be a roiling mush over slowly macerating bone.


    While I was still getting back to my feet the second one was out unscathed. It lunged and I could only roll out of the way. I repeated the same roll for the second lunge. The third time, when it was prepared for me to roll, I dove at it instead.


    Shoving my left elbow under its throat I created an opening. My sword sunk deep in its flank. Then I was on the ground with the creature on top of me. From the way it kept snapping at me, I knew the angle had been bad. I hadn¡¯t hit anything vital. And I could no longer get the blade out and try again. By the slush oozing out of my glove and down my right arm I could tell there wasn¡¯t much more than bone left in that glove.


    I didn¡¯t get even a second of respite. The third one had entered the fray, coming at me from behind, going for my exposed neck that the one on top of me couldn¡¯t yet reach. I released pressure on the second one¡¯s throat while I brought my left shoulder up. The minute movement was enough for the one behind me to chew sand.


    It also gave the one on top of me enough freedom to tear into the offered shoulder. The low rumble in the back of the creature¡¯s throat rang right next to my ear as its fangs sank straight through my padded armor and into my flesh.


    I screeched in pain, soundless without air in my lungs. I forced my wounded shoulder into further motion before the fangs digging into my flesh would cost me my arm. Something splintered in my shoulder under the pressure of the monster¡¯s jaws, but with my shoulder slightly further forward my left hand could now reach the hilt of my blade.


    I yanked the sword free at an angle, widening the hole in the beast''s torso as I did so. The creature on top of me slackened, no longer able to support its own weight. Before it could crush me underneath it I threw the blade behind me.


    I had practiced throwing, but never like this. I was pinned under a dead ahuizotl, and my shoulder refused to move the way I wanted it to. It was a bad throw, barely grazing the side of the third demon. Yet bad as it was it allowed me just enough time to partially crawl out from underneath the crushing weight on top of me.


    I had my arms free when the third one came for me once more. So when it rushed at my neck I pushed past the pain, pulled it closer with what little muscle control I had left in my arms, and reciprocated. Its jaws closed around my neck at the same time as my fangs pierced its jugular. While it bit down I drank.


    I hoped its biting strength wasn¡¯t strong enough to overcome the speed I healed at from drinking. That way I¡¯d be able to bleed it dry before it could kill me. I could feel it chewing at my neck, a slight release of pressure, a minute reposition, then even deeper and more painful torture.


    Would be so much easier if they weren¡¯t hybrids and I could just tear them apart by pushing my Metzus into them.


    Eventually, something snapped at the back of my head. I wanted to scream out in pain, but doing so would doom me. So fighting through the agony I kept drinking until slowly the crushing pressure around my neck lessened. Keeping hold of its neck with my fangs I followed the dying creature to the ground.


    The thing was about two-thirds empty by the time I regained some feeling in my body. The first new sensation I experienced was more pain. But it was a distant pain, muted, dulled by the rush of fresh blood.


    No longer dying was liberating. I suddenly had the luxury of gagging. Monster blood wasn¡¯t much better than human food. The only thing it had going for it was that it was still blood. And so I cradled the corpse in my arms and kept drinking until I had emptied it out.


    Really, the things I do when there¡¯s so much real food within spitting distance.


    ¡­


    Real food?


    Within spitting distance?


    I dropped the carcass, kicked myself out from underneath the other creature. Wiping off my mouth on my sleeve I turned towards the new scent. Right next to where I had left Fern stood a delicious, Cedarwood-scented meal.

 1.11 — High on Dying

    I tilted my head, trying to work my way through the implications. The Cedarwood-blood had seen me. Somewhere in the distance of my mind it registered that I should be feeling panic right about now, but the massive blood high I was experiencing kept me calm and rational.


    Lying was probably out. There was no talking yourself out of drinking an ahuizotl to death. I sniffed the air and took a couple of steps towards the male to test this. He reeked of terror, heartbeat running fast and erratic, and despite me closing in he remained rooted to the spot. Yes, he had absolutely seen too much.


    Running wasn¡¯t an appealing option either. Too many of the townsfolk suspected and this one now knew. I¡¯d never pull it off, only a matter of time before the Inquisition got to me. I kept walking, not straight towards him but in the direction of Fern standing not too far off from him. The longer he stayed frozen in fear and the closer I got the more options I¡¯d have. It also brought me into the lengthening shade projected by the evening sun, where I would be able to see a little better.


    He was alone, so I could kill him and say the ahuizotl did it. I contemplated that option for a second as I took off my right glove. Squishy bits of flesh-like stuff clung to my regrowing hand. Similar fleshy goo covered the inside of the glove. Another set ruined. This was why I carried spares.


    I fingered the wounds on my neck and shoulder. There too the flesh was knitting back together. The regeneration didn¡¯t actually hurt that much, but the pain of the injury would linger for a little while still. Thankfully the blood-high dulled that pain just as much. Not too much blood near the gash either, benefits of no heartbeat.


    Killing him would be an utterly reckless mistake, worse than the other two options by a long shot. It would be my word the ahuizotl did it against Onar¡¯s that I did it. As far as mistakes went this one smelled absolutely delicious though.


    I had nearly reached Fern. The Cedarwood-meal, having recovered some of its witts took a couple of halting steps back, holding out a hand as if that would somehow keep me at bay. That he hadn¡¯t run away now that I had approached him was a start, I suppose. Or maybe he simply wasn¡¯t capable of running after what he¡¯d just witnessed. Regardless, it provided an opportunity to avoid turning this into a bloodbath.


    ¡°I told you to stay away,¡± I stated after taking a breath. While I waited for his response I took out a bag to collect the runestones and a cloth to clean my blade.


    He gasped, then fell to his knees and puked. With the setting sun and the shade, I could actually see him puking now instead of just hearing and smelling it. I should be disgusted, but there had been too many disgusting things in the past couple of minutes, and the blood-high was still strong.


    I should also not need to inhale in order to speak. I did just now because I wasn¡¯t breathing. My heart wasn¡¯t beating either. Getting those two going again after the fight should have been the first thing on my mind. It hadn¡¯t been. The blood-high made me not care. I needed to care. This wouldn¡¯t work if I didn¡¯t care. I forced my heart and lungs into motion, used the steady rhythm of my breathing to push past the dullness enveloping my mind. Only then did I trust myself to speak again.


    ¡°That was way closer than I would have liked. You are incredibly lucky they did not go for you when they had the chance.¡± I shook my head at the still retching man and returned to the ahuizotl nest to collect the runestones.


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    I needed to give him some space. Why had I even thought that walking up to him would give me more options. That was such a stupid move, such a stupid predator move. And I really couldn¡¯t keep blaming my shitty behavior on some blood-high.


    I massaged my temple, tried to knead the aggressive manipulation and terrorization out of my head. Even my attempt at compassion had been a way to influence his mental state. I had lied. Again. The ahuizotl wouldn¡¯t have gone for him. Cedarwood was far enough away and not a threat to them. Otherwise I wouldn¡¯t have left Fern there. But he probably didn¡¯t know that. So I had taken advantage of it, made him fear the ahuizotl more in the hope that it would make him fear me less. As for the very unlikely case that the ahuizotl would have ignored me and gone for my horse, in a chase Fern would have outrun them.


    A trickle of something goopy and sticky drooped down my temple. I tried wiping it off. It was red and fleshy and all I managed was smearing it further over my face. Great. I had just walked up to him absolutely covered in ahuizotl gore.


    Aaaah¡­ damn!


    Must look like a demon straight out of hell.


    How do I even fix this?


    Dropping the bag and the cloth I headed for the river and washed the worst of the mess from my hands and face. I even made a halfhearted attempt at getting the coagulated blood out of my hair, which went surprisingly well for how little time I allowed myself.


    I would have preferred to take a little longer, but had to get out of the water because Cedarwood was inching back, about to run. I needed to talk to him before he rushed back. Maybe, just maybe, I¡¯d be able to avoid him barreling into town screaming ¡®vampire!¡¯ at the top of his lungs.


    Even while trying to get away he hadn¡¯t turned his back to me, he was still that terrified. He stumbled over something when he saw me exit the water and tumbled through the undergrowth. He didn¡¯t bother getting back up. Instead, he crawled further away from me.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for snapping at you. Really shouldn¡¯t have,¡± I raised my voice ever so slightly, so he would be able to hear me, yet carefully kept my usual formality out of my tone. Even though I hated it, sounding just a bit more like a little girl might just help. Then I sat down next to my blade in an attempt to appear even less threatening and began cleaning it. ¡°I¡¯m ¡­ I guess nearly dying makes me a little testy.¡±


    It was probably the shittiest apology I¡¯d ever made. I didn¡¯t have a lot of experience being nice to people, and it was hard to be non-threatening when I needed to raise my voice so he could hear me. Regardless, he stopped scrambling away from me.


    ¡°You really should head back. Sun¡¯s down. You¡¯re going to catch a cold like that.¡± I urged him, now that I had his attention. He was soaking wet. He must have crossed the river on foot to get here. I used that excuse to encourage him to go back. He was already doing so anyway, but this way there was a crucial difference, him being allowed to leave, instead of him fleeing from me.


    There was probably more I should have said. Maybe I should even have tried asking him not to report me to the Inquisition. But I honestly did not know where to start. I had somehow, miraculously not made things even worse.


    What if my next words screw it up again?


    I fretted endlessly. I had talked myself out of so many hairy situations, but now, the one time that I really needed to, I didn¡¯t seem to manage. To my surprise, when I went to stash the stones and my blade he was still there, lingering at the edge of the clearing.


    I groaned as I grabbed the shovel and a fresh pair of gloves. He was still here, despite what he¡¯d seen, despite his fear, despite me telling him he was free to go. I resisted the temptation to head towards the nearest tree and bash my head against it. I didn¡¯t care that it was a positive that he hadn¡¯t fled. It meant he needed something, yet all I wanted was an hour or two of peace and quiet before I¡¯d have to set off on a mad dash across half the country to save my hide.


    I shoved the spade into the mound of the nest, leaned on the handle, and looked at the man still lingering at the far end of the clearing. ¡°Why are you here?¡± I asked him with a deep sigh.

 1.12 — We All Call Him That

    ¡°We would have faced a dozen of these things¡­¡± Cedarwood whispered. It wasn¡¯t an answer to my question. It did not tell me why he was here, why he had followed me. It was whispered so quietly that I wasn¡¯t even sure if he was making a statement or asking a question.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I sighed again and shook my head. ¡°And I weakened these three beforehand,¡± I answered as if he¡¯d asked a question anyway. I hoped he had intended it as a question. Despite my wish to be left alone, questions were part of a conversation. Enough conversation and I might have one more person in this town that didn¡¯t want me dead despite knowing what I was.


    Then I noticed the orange glow behind him, past the bend in the river. It was well and truly past sundown now. There was light in the village when there hadn¡¯t been any yesterday. That changed things. I didn¡¯t like this one bit. It meant my little walking-around-in-the-sun act hadn¡¯t been effective at all. Ostea really had shattered far too many assumptions people held about vampires.


    Not good.


    Really not good.


    Soooo screwed now.


    ¡°You really should head back.¡± I tilted my head in the direction of the village. ¡°Half of them think I killed you by now, the other half probably assume I have turned you. None of them will get a second of sleep as long as you are here with me.¡±


    He glanced where I had gestured, a tiny thrill of fresh terror coursing through him. My words were harsh, but they probably weren¡¯t far off from the truth. A suspected vampire crosses a river, a man rushes after it for some reason, and nearly an hour later he still had not returned.


    I started digging. Despite his fears, he stubbornly remained where he was.


    ¡°Please go back?¡± I begged him. ¡°This situation is bad enough for me as it is.¡± I didn¡¯t want to cut off the conversation like this, just when it had started. But every moment we spent talking would only make things worse for me. Maybe it would also be worse for him if they suspected him of being a thrall.


    Please, please, please, just go back.


    Just go back and tell them you¡¯re okay.


    ¡°So¡­ um¡­ you said you were going to leave as soon as you were done?¡± he wondered, instead of heeding my request.


    I wanted to stamp my feet and scream in frustration, but that would be childish and cost me my hard-won trust. Of course, now that he really had to leave, now that I was begging him to, that was when he got the courage to do what he really came here for. Glancing up at him, I tilted my head to the side, trying to catch his eyes. Instead of meeting my gaze, he looked down and slightly to the side as his breath hitched in his throat.


    Not quite that courageous just yet.


    The worst part was, I could already tell where this was going, and I did not like it. He wanted another favor, wanted me to risk my life even more than I already had. For some absurd reason, he¡¯d deemed coming after me alone for that an acceptable risk.


    Why?


    Makes no sense?


    ¡°Hmm.¡± I hid my doubts behind an impassive mask and gave a non-committal hum.


    ¡°One of those things, it got one of us, a couple of days back.¡± His voice remained barely more than a whisper, but as he spoke his gaze at least inched closer to my face.


    ¡°Shae¡¯s uncle?¡± I asked him, having already expected this to be his request. I gestured for him to come closer. Keeping up the conversation over this kind of distance was becoming absurd. The only reason I could make out his mumbling and whispering was my superior hearing.


    ¡°Uh?¡± His confused eyes met mine, but he did not step forward.


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    Wait¡­ am I wrong?


    ¡°Uncle Tare, Shae¡¯s uncle, right?¡± I kept prodding him.


    ¡°Ah ¡­¡± He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. ¡°No¡­ he¡¯s not¡­ I mean¡­ we all call him Uncle Tare.¡±


    What?


    For real!


    ¡°No. Not helping him.¡± I cut him off with a solid refusal. I was not doing this. If this Uncle Tare wasn¡¯t even related to Shae, then I had no reason to help. Onar wanted me dead. I was not walking back into that town literally hours after telling them I wouldn¡¯t.


    ¡°No¡­¡± he repeated my answer. ¡°why?¡±


    You know why!


    I glared at him. It was the same why that made him stand nearly forty feet away from me to have a conversation, the same why that made him look at his feet when he talked to me. I shook my head. He could figure this one out himself.


    ¡°Please¡­ you saved my wife,¡± he begged me. ¡°You saved her¡­ back then. You healed her. You remember, right? My Meg?¡±


    Ah.


    That explained his courage to cross the river then, and his fear and hesitation now. He¡¯d thought I was a saint, yet what he found was a demon in disguise.


    ¡°I know you can help, please. So please ¡­ you¡¯ve already helped us so much ¡­ will you help us once more? We can pay!¡±


    Does he really still think of me as a saint?


    ¡°No.¡± I gave another flat refusal. I had done everything for their little settlement, and all I¡¯d gotten in return so far was hatred and fear. And pay? Money was worthless to me when I was dead.


    I refused him several more times after that. I really hoped that he¡¯d finally leave. He did not.


    ¡°You can not seriously think you can convince me merely by lingering here, do you?¡± I did not look up at him, convinced that if I ignored him long enough and kept digging he would have to leave.


    ¡°I can try.¡± Instead of giving up he actually came closer. ¡°He¡¯s going to die without proper care. I don¡¯t think you¡¯re the kind of person that would let people die.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I stopped digging, sighed, and looked him over once more. ¡°If you have to insist on hanging around, then at least start collecting wood and build me a pyre. We will need to burn these things.¡±


    The muddy stretch between the river and the forest was large enough that we didn¡¯t risk setting the trees alight. It was going to save me a lot of work if I could burn the ahuizotl instead of needing to cut them to pieces. Normally I¡¯d even contemplate burying them in their own nest. But this bank would probably flood come winter and the village was downriver.


    In his defense, he did actually build a pyre as I asked him to. So by the time I had dismantled the nest and smashed all the eggs, it was just a matter of dragging the carcasses onto the wood.  That task fell entirely to me. He still refused to come that close to me, or the ahuizotl corpses.


    Once all of that was taken care of I waded into the river to wash off the worst of the mud and gore still caking my body. And while I¡¯d been doing all of this I hadn¡¯t for a second been able to stop thinking about his insistence that he¡¯d be able to convince me.


    That was the problem with me. I was too much of a saint. Six months ago I¡¯d jumped into a raging river to save these people without asking questions. I¡¯d even treated this Meg¡¯s hypothermia without being asked. Just now I¡¯d killed these ahuizotl, even after explicitly being chased off by Onar only a day prior. This fool was completely right. He wouldn¡¯t just be able to convince me, he pretty much already had.


    Freshened up, and with all the important work done, I joined Cedarwood at the pyre. I took a couple of moments to study him. The silence that hung between us was only being accentuated by the gentle roar of the flames and the occasional hiss of burning flesh.


    He sat down across from me, all the way on the other side of the fire. Still too scared to come closer, but at least composed enough to sit down now, I presumed. He was indeed as broad-shouldered as I had suspected, with the kind of toned upper body and tanned skin one could only get from a lifetime of hard work. His hawkish face and close-cropped gray hair did not match the rest of him.


    He soon became uncomfortable under my scrutiny. Awkwardly glancing around he mumbled a quiet ¡°Ah¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I prompted him.


    ¡°Gery,¡± he muttered after a short hesitation.


    I got up and strolled over to him even as he scuttled back from my approach. I held out my hand for him to shake. He half-raised his hand, then hesitated.


    ¡°This is your why not,¡± I responded to his hesitation, took my hand back, and fixed him with a pointed stare.


    He did not meet my glare, instead choosing to glance down to the uncomfortable three feet of space between us.


    ¡°But it could become a yes,¡± I held my hand out again.


    He stared incredulously from my gloved hand to my face. ¡°You¡¯ll¡­ you¡¯ll do it?¡±


    I nodded. ¡°I will take a look. No promises beyond that. Just a look.¡±


    After a slight hesitation, he grasped my hand and shook it. ¡°Oh thank you. Thank you! Thank you!¡±


    After I had extricated myself from his grip I draped my cloak on the ground next to him and laid myself on top of it. It¡¯d be at least another hour or two before the fire would be out. I wasn¡¯t going to spend all of that time standing.

 1.13 — When Best-laid Plans Miss Horses

    <div>


    ¡°So¡­ that thing¡­ did you really¡­¡± Gery¡¯s question sort of trailed off as he slowed his pace.


    The man had barely spoken for all the time we had spent around the fire. Pretty much all I¡¯d managed to get out of him was that he was a carpenter. Now that we were heading back he began asking questions. Yet his own line of questioning was making him uncomfortable. I could tell by the way he slowed his steps with every new question, the way he lagged behind, subconsciously increasing the distance between us.


    ¡°Do you really want to know?¡± I glanced over my shoulder and quirked an eyebrow. My whole face felt weird, too honest. I was so accustomed to mock-glaring and frowning at people that showing him a genuine facial expression unnerved me. He had given me the benefit of the doubt though, so I experienced a strange need to reciprocate.


    He shook his head, glanced around for a second, before turning towards the trees and staring off in the distance. As I suspected, he didn¡¯t really want an answer, and I was glad I did not need to provide one. There was still no talking my way out of drinking an ahuizotl to death.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a vampire,¡± I whispered to his back. I wasn¡¯t sure if he heard me. I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted him to hear. I didn¡¯t even know where I was trying to go with that statement.


    ¡°So, when you came to fetch me, was that a joint decision or¡­¡± I followed up, trying to distract the both of us from that embarrassing statement. I already had a pretty good handle on what the answer would be, but I wanted to hear it from him anyway.


    The carpenter looked at the ground, then at me, opened his mouth, closed it again. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ I¡­ We¡­¡± He glanced down. ¡°Onar¡¯s¡­¡± Then he once more stared off into the distance.


    Doesn¡¯t want to talk about it.


    Figured as much.


    ¡°You should get on,¡± I gestured towards Fern when we eventually continued on towards town.


    He glanced from me to Fern and back with a confused frown on his face.


    ¡°You will remain dry,¡± I clarified. ¡°There is no need to worry, she is a gentle horse. You know how to ride, right?¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ you¡¯ll get wet?¡± he wondered.


    ¡°Yes. And you will not,¡± I reiterated.


    He kept up his questioning look, as if he thought that he could change my mind by merely looking at me all confused and innocent.


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    Aaaah¡­ but he did succeed at that before.


    ¡°It is only water, I will manage.¡± I sighed. Then I motioned towards Fern once more, urging him to get on. ¡°Do not worry so much, I am not some frail lady that needs protecting. I can handle water.¡±


    I didn¡¯t like misleading one of the few people that trusted me this way, but I was reluctant to share more unless he really started refusing. It was close to midnight and there was still light in the village. I needed him on Fern so that the first thing people saw when they spotted us was that Gery was safe.


    I just hoped he wouldn¡¯t come to that realization himself. I feared he might though. There was no way he could miss the glow coming from the village after I had pointed it out earlier. I probably shouldn¡¯t have made him aware of that. And I definitely shouldn¡¯t have made him aware of the potential implications.


    When we approached it became apparent that the glow came from torches lined up all along the east bank. Up on Fern, Gery tensed. I was glad I¡¯d gotten him up there when I did. Not giving him time to dwell on this sight I led Fern forward. I wanted to be halfway across the river before the carpenter even had a chance to spot the two bowmen hidden in the darkest corners.


    Disappointingly, one of the bowmen was Hot-ember-blood. I had expected better of the man, though I really shouldn¡¯t have. Monsters get no loyalty, not from anyone. The other bowman¡¯s scent I did not recognize. A mixed group containing Moldy-leather, Not-quite-yeast Onar, a woman with blood that sung like tempered steel, and some unknowns hid nearby.


    The torches meant they¡¯d probably spot us the second we stepped away from the treeline and approached the river. Regardless It was one of the most amateur ambushes I had ever seen. They had foolishly assumed that I would return the same way I had left. I couldn¡¯t even begin to imagine the panic it would have caused had we crossed upriver at the ahuizotl nest.


    Aaaah¡­ they really are such idiots.


    Regardless of how incompetent they were, this was still absolutely suicidal of me. I was deliberately walking into a village out for my blood. There was no way they could kill me, not in the middle of the night right after I had fed, but that didn¡¯t matter. This many idiots on edge meant terrible decisions all around.


    I let Fern take the lead when we entered the water. By the time we reached the middle, I nudged her along and stayed where I was, hands held high in the air to demonstrate that I was unarmed. Gery was almost fully across by the time he realized that I had stayed behind. By then he was out of time to react. The two bowmen came rushing in from the cover of darkness and trained their weapons on me. Three others carrying improvised weapons, one of them Onar, surrounded Fern and began shouting at Gery.


    A banquet of scents erupted from the din. Within seconds the whole thing turned into a wild spectacle full of angry shouts and posturing with weapons. At least there were a handful of saner individuals mixed in, trying to calm things down. I just stood there awkwardly, hoping that those calmer minds would win out, that no one was going to do something overly brash to Gery simply for associating with me.


    Or to Fern¡­


    I held back a ferocious string of curses. I had the perfect escape plan. I could dash back to the west bank, fleeing under the cover of night before even a single one of their arrows could get near me. Except¡­ Fern and everything else I owned was right there with them on the east bank.


    Should never have let Gery on my horse!

 1.14 — Chasing off a Snake

    I waded out of the river, one slow and unthreatening step at a time. My scowl remained fixed on¡­ Limn. That was Hot-ember-blood¡¯s name. Lots of angry people shouting at each other was good for learning names. Especially if those people kept you standing in the water for close to ten minutes.


    Limn had been one of the main reasons they¡¯d left me in the water for so long. To think that I¡¯d thought highly of him earlier this evening. That tall, long-haired snake would be an even greater danger to me than Onar. At least with Onar I had Shae as leverage.


    Limn was one of the four people left on the riverbank, supposedly for protection. The other three were Gery, a petite thing that embodied the delicate caress of lemongrass and cotton, and an obviously annoyed blonde-haired assault of zesty pepper. If it weren¡¯t for the efforts of a handful of people, including the Lemongrass-and-cotton woman, I doubt the whole thing would have de-escalated as nicely as it did.


    Their diffusion tactics had mostly involved guilt-tripping everyone about risking Uncle Tare¡¯s life, and leaving a harmless little kid standing in the river. I was not a kid, but I let it slide just this once. If being perceived as cute and cuddly got me out of the water then I¡¯d be cute and cuddly till the sun came up.


    Once out of the water I pointedly ignored Limn and graced the three people that were sympathetic to me with a quick thank you. An awkward moment went by where no one appeared to know what to do with the potentially dangerous predator in their midst. Then Gery motioned everyone forward and proceeded to introductions.


    ¡°Vale, um¡­ my wife, Meg,¡± the carpenter gestured towards the diminutive, lemongrass freckled redhead he¡¯d wrapped his arm around. Then he turned towards the blonde Pepper-blood. ¡°And this is¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sarding hell Gery, she¡¯s injured!¡± The Pepper-blood woman shoved Gery aside and rushed towards me. ¡°You could have at least told me!¡±


    Right, my clothes still weren¡¯t entirely free of ahuizotl blood. I shrugged to indicate I wasn¡¯t overly bothered by it. The gore would either wash out, or it would stain. Either way, there¡¯d be fresh stains and tears soon enough. That¡¯s just what happened when you faced off against vicious beasts on a near-weekly basis.


    I also considered it somewhat late for them to only notice these things now. Then again, I had been standing in the middle of the river, while they stood near the torches. That close to a light source their awareness of what was in the dark was probably as bad as my eyesight was in the sun. Yet another reason why this had been a pathetic attempt at an ambush. People should really learn to leave the monster hunting to the professionals.


    ¡°By the¡­ they tore a whole chunk out of her shoulder!¡± My shrug had made the Pepper-blood notice the giant, gaping hole in my gambeson. She jumped me in a panic and started digging her fingers into the hole in search of the wound. Meanwhile, she launched into a tirade directed at who knows who. ¡°And you left her in the water! She could have¡ª¡±


    Abruptly her rant broke off. Fingers still on my fully healed, pristine shoulder she looked me up and down, a nervous frown settling on her eyebrows. The tiniest hint of panic crept into her scent as her eyes widened and her heart rate accelerated.


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    Ah. Noticed I¡¯m uninjured¡­


    Don¡¯t think she¡¯s going to buy just any excuse. Far too clever for that, this one.


    ¡°She¡¯s fine, Reya. They only took a chunk out of her clothes.¡± Gery attempted to save the woman¡¯s sanity. ¡°It¡¯s all their blood.¡±


    Wait?


    He¡¯s lying for me?


    Gery¡¯s words were an obvious lie. There was no way something ripping that large of a hole in a gambeson wouldn¡¯t lead to grievous injury.  ¡°Yep, totally fine,¡± I jumped in to support him anyway, smiling at the startled Pepper-blood.


    The woman¡¯s hands snapped away from my shoulders and she darted back. I looked past her, up at Gery in confusion.


    He actually lied for me?


    ¡°Right um¡­ Reya here is our overly-outspoken worrywart,¡± Gery saved me from awkwardness once more. ¡°She¡¯s been taking care of Uncle Tare.¡± He gave the worried woman a pat on the back, then handed me a towel.


    Overly outspoken. I could believe that. The Reya woman had only stepped in right in the middle of all the commotion. She¡¯d promptly snapped at a bunch of people, and had gotten told off by an older, Chicken-broth flavored woman. She had thrown her hands in the air, stormed off in anger, and retreated to the same building she had come out of.


    ¡°Right. Uncle Tare.¡± I accepted the towel, and while attempting to get myself dry I shot a glance at the still lingering Limn. ¡°Could we get on with that? This guy¡¯s giving me the creeps.¡±


    I needed a convenient distraction from the shoulder-wound problem, and this distrustful fool would serve just fine. With that simple offhand comment, I tried to paint him as a bigger creep than me. I even wedged in a subtle reminder that none of us wanted to be up this late at night, in the hope that it would get things moving a bit faster. I intended to be gone again, long before dawn came.


    The outcome far exceeded my expectations. Limn scowled at me, reached for his bow, and in doing so missed Meg flying at him. She batted the weapon out of his hands, then continued to harry him all the way back to what I assumed was some kind of inn. He protested, loudly, but was no match for the chubby, red-haired fury two heads shorter than him.


    Yeh, no regrets about saving her from hypothermia last winter.


    The distraction with Limn granted me the opportunity to sneak a good look at this Reya woman, handily masked by me wringing out my clothes. Even with Limn being chased off, her eyes kept darting between Gery and me. And every time she glanced my way she flexed her fingers and her scent gained a dark, sour, almost predatory aftertaste.


    So didn¡¯t fool her with that distraction.


    Really shouldn¡¯t have lied to her.


    I thought I recognized her though. Her zesty scent, the rough tone of her voice, the brash mannerism, all of it reminded me of that night six months ago. She¡¯d been part of the rescue party back then, along with the Chicken-broth woman and some other people. In fact, a significant number of the other people helping out that night had been on my side just now. If only I remembered a little more of that night than half-drowned, mud-caked faces.


    When Meg returned I shook the last bits of water out of my boots and stepped out of the puddle that had formed beneath my feet. I wasn¡¯t anywhere near dry, but at least I wouldn¡¯t be leaking all over the ground anymore. Handing the towel back to Gery I tried to lighten the mood. ¡±Right. Uncle Tare then? Or do you all want to wait the week or so it will take me to get completely dry?¡±


    Just put me in a field and I¡¯ll be enough to water the crops for the rest of the season.


    Frowning at my misplaced joke, Reya led us towards a small dwelling adjacent to an equally small smithy. It was the same building she¡¯d come out of earlier. Her hurried pace told me she wanted to get this over with as much as I did.


    Before we entered, the overpowering reek of rotting, infected flesh and onions that streamed out from the building made me take another look at Meg, Gery, and Reya.


    Really? Do they not smell this?


    Man¡¯s as good as dead.

 1.15 — Split-second Decisions

    Reya led us inside as if this death-stench was an everyday occurrence. I followed after her and was assailed by a hurricane of pickled dried leaves, wrapped around an older, flaxen-haired woman begging me to save her husband.


    While Reya set to calming the panicked thing I cast a look back at Gery and Meg. The visibly paling Meg gulped and set her jaw before stepping inside as well. I gave her my best worried frown, raised a questioning eyebrow at her, and tilted my head. It always paid to show concern for those that took my side.


    The redhead gave me a faint smile and a nod. I nodded back and turned my attention to where the putrid odor was coming from, the only other room in this little home. Focusing my ears I could hear faint, uneven, labored breathing. And an erratic heartbeat. I sniffed, digging beyond the rancid scent of decaying meat. The dying man smelled greasy and warty, a completely unappealing taste.


    I clenched my jaw at that last thought, realizing that I was judging the man as if he were a meal instead of a patient. It didn¡¯t change the severity of his condition though. I shot a quick glance at Reya and who I assumed to be Uncle Tare¡¯s wife.


    They really want me to save this man?


    So don¡¯t think I can help them with this.


    My dad had taken me through close to everything from the Inquisitions basic field medicine guide. At times like these, I wished I had paid more attention. My unique condition meant I rarely had a need for most of the knowledge. What information had stuck, combined with a healthy dose of extrapolation and improvisation got me far, but I doubted it would be enough for this. Even without having gotten a look at the man I knew it would take some serious healing magic to get him through this. More than I was capable of.


    Reya was just about done assuring the wife that I was indeed here to look after her husband, so I pushed past them and into the bedroom. The man on the bed looked to be in just as pitiable a shape as he smelled. He was beyond pale, yet with a tinge of yellow coloring his complexion. Sweat dripped from his brow and clustered in his unkempt beard.


    Pulling away the blankets covering him I surveyed his wounds. His left leg was badly mangled, and several other cuts, scrapes, and bites riddled the rest of his arms and legs. All of the major wounds were bandaged, preventing me from seeing much more. A quick sniff underneath one of those bandages told me some half-decent attempt had been made at treating the wounds.


    Reya barged in before I could do anything more. She gave me a vicious glare, just as I had expected she would. The blonde fury did not trust me alone with this man. I licked my lips in front of her just to spite her.


    She really thinks I¡¯m going to eat this man?


    Nothing appetizing left in him.


    The wife came in right after Reya, soon followed by Meg. The redhead cast an uncomfortable glance around the room, then dragged the wife back out. ¡°Come on, Suri. Let¡¯s get the two of them some more light.¡±


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    I hadn¡¯t asked for any light. The room was dark though. I didn¡¯t need it, but they probably did. Much more important was that Meg had taken the man¡¯s wife away. Having a serious conversation about a patient with distraught family members hovering about was not fun.


    Not wanting to waste this opportunity I addressed Reya. ¡°You tended to him?¡±


    She nodded and gave me a sad half-hum of assent. ¡°We don¡¯t really have anyone capable of treating wounds like this.¡± She sighed. ¡°I did the best I could.¡±


    ¡°Probably better than I could have done without magic,¡± I assured her.


    On the bed, the man¡¯s eyelids fluttered, probably stirred awake by our presence. Reya knelt next to him and tried to get him coherent. While she did so I began a more serious cataloging of his wounds. ¡°Left leg gored down to the bone. Inflammation here, here, and here. Rot eating his foot,¡± I summed up my diagnosis for Reya, then led with a question. ¡°What did you try? Besides moss and onions?¡±


    Without warning her heart rate spiked.


    Fear?


    Why? What¡¯s wrong with the onions?


    ¡°We¡­ pooled some money¡­ sent Nebby to the city for a doctor,¡± she admitted haltingly, pausing between words as if deep in thought. Her eyes darted across the room.


    Searching for a way out?


    Hoping I won¡¯t kill her for this?


    It wasn¡¯t the onions that were the problem. Asking about them had merely made her think about all the steps they had taken. All of the logical steps everyone took after a monster attack. Some of which were very bad for me. Something this woman had just realized. Struggling to keep the surprise out of my voice I pressed for more answers. ¡°Only a doctor? Or also a hunter?¡±


    Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!


    Why did I even ask that?


    Reya¡¯s gaze snapped back to me, studying my face. So they had sent for a hunter as well. Why did I not consider they would send for both a doctor and a hunter before now. Of course, they would.


    When did I get this stupid?


    Normally meeting other hunters wasn¡¯t an issue, simply because no one knew what I was. Here the situation was entirely different. Onar, Limn, maybe even this Reya woman, someone would accuse me. As soon as the V-word was uttered in front of a hunter my life would be forfeit. It would be on me to prove I wasn¡¯t. I couldn¡¯t. The simplest of Tonaltus test would unmask me.


    ¡°Right. This is beyond my capabilities. You should wait for the doctor.¡± I fixed Reya with a stare and got up. The time I had to get myself away from the hunters and the Inquisition had just been cut short by a dramatic amount.


    ¡°Vale¡­ please wait?¡± Meg had returned, had heard my refusal, and was blocking the door and giving me pleading looks. ¡°It¡¯ll be days till the doctor gets here. What if he doesn¡¯t have that long.¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to shove her aside. I didn¡¯t even think I could, not without revealing how freakishly strong I was at night. Ridiculously short as she was, Meg was still more than a head taller than me. There was Uncle Tare¡¯s wife as well, standing at their door, candles in hand, looking utterly broken at my refusal to help.


    The problem was, Meg was right. Anyone could see that he wouldn¡¯t last for more than another day or so. He might not even live to see the morning. Not that I particularly cared what happened to the man. I had only promised to look, nothing more.


    They have to understand.


    I only promised to take a look.


    Yet what got me was the pained look Meg gave me. It reminded me of Shae stamping her foot, balling her little fists, and shouting ¡°You¡¯re leaving again!¡±. Onar¡¯s kid had been right. I had a habit of running away from anything even remotely tough. Ashamed of myself I looked away from her and to the ground.


    ¡°I am going to need clean water, heated,¡± I looked up, not at Meg but at Reya, and began rattling off a list. ¡°Fresh linen, bandages, honey, soap, something to cauterize a wound¡­¡±


    I had made a split-second decision. I was certain I was going to regret it.

 1.16 — Cheap Tricks of a Hypocrite

    I should have been surprised at the words coming out of my mouth. I really wasn¡¯t. I¡¯d been doing nothing but idiotic things since I¡¯d returned here. One more instance of suicidal lunacy wasn¡¯t going to make a difference.


    It took a while for my words to sink in, then everyone shot off to get me the things I¡¯d requested. Only Uncle Tare¡¯s wife remained, clutching her chest in bewilderment. ¡°Cau¡­ cauterize?¡± she squeaked.


    Of course she¡¯d caught that. I raked my hands through my hair. There was no nice way to put this, and if there was then I lacked the social graces to come up with it. ¡°I will do what I can, but I am not a doctor.¡± I gave her a pleading look. Please understand. ¡°I might need to amputate.¡±


    ¡°Amputate?¡± she repeated my words, looking about ready to collapse.


    Why did everyone leave me with her?


    I¡¯m not good for this!


    ¡°Look¡­ I¡­ damn!¡± I paced the room, sank down in the only chair in the living quarters. My legs dangled uselessly above the ground and now I was looking up at her even more. It might have been better had I let her sit for this, I belatedly realized.


    ¡°This might kill him no matter what I do.¡±


    There. I said it.


    ¡°I ¡­ understand.¡± She turned her back to me and leaned meekly against the table.


    No, you don¡¯t!


    All I did was give you lot yet another reason to hate me the second this goes south.


    I wisely did not voice that thought out loud. There were probably a million other things someone smarter than me should, and could, do and say to make all this less painful for her.


    I was immensely grateful when Meg and Reya returned with the requested items. I let the town healer take care of setting everything up and fled outside. I needed to fetch some things from my own saddlebags, and catch a good breath of fresh air.


    ¡°Right. Now everyone out. Only Meg stays to help me,¡± I said when I walked back in. I had no idea if Meg would be of any use. Reya would be the logical choice. But I did not just need someone with medicinal skills. I needed someone I could trust. Gery¡¯s wife was the only woman here that I felt I could come close to relying on.


    They hesitated, began to protest.


    ¡°You asked me to do this,¡± I added before any of them could actually voice their complaints. ¡°Now you either trust me, or I walk.¡±


    I was being a tremendous hypocrite. I did not trust these people for one bit, yet I asked them to trust me with this man¡¯s life. Nevertheless, I needed to send people out for my own safety. Having more people present would not change how far they trusted me right now. But it would make my work harder if I needed to convince three people to keep trusting me instead of one.


    Some more needless stalling on their part later, and then Meg and I were finally alone.


    ¡°What do you need me to do?¡± Meg asked after I had settled myself in a chair next to the bed. She was standing in a corner, uncomfortably shuffling about. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m not very good with blood.¡±


    ¡°Define not very good.¡± I sized her up. She had acted a bit queasy earlier. I feared ¡®not very good'' would be an understatement.


    ¡°I¡­ um¡­ faint?¡± she offered in a meek little voice that did not fit her jovial face at all.


    I groaned and closed my eyes in defeat. I should have seen the signs the moment she walked into this home. This wasn¡¯t going to work. I didn¡¯t need expertise, just an extra pair of hands. If she fainted all I¡¯d get was an extra headache.


    ¡°Right,¡± I relented, after tiredly rubbing my eyes. ¡°Just get Reya. I suppose we shall do this with the three of us after all.¡±


    When Reya returned I only got more protests from her. ¡°You only need one person. Meg should go,¡± she insisted.


    ¡°No. Meg stays,¡± I refused to concede. ¡°That is not negotiable.¡±


    She glared at me, then at Meg.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Reya,¡± the redhead apologized in my stead.


    Reya glared some more, then gave a very reluctant nod. ¡°Fine. I¡¯ll just brew him something for the pain.¡± She gestured towards Uncle Tare. ¡°Be right back.¡±


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    Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we were ready to begin. Gery had taken the wife to his place because Uncle Tare¡¯s little house did not have a door between the living quarters and the bedroom. Sufficient light had been prepared for Meg and Reya to see by. Now the both of them were waiting for my instructions.


    ¡°Meg, Reya, I am only going to need you to do two things,¡± I began.


    The look that statement brought to their faces made me sigh. It told me they were already expecting a catch.


    ¡°Yes, you are right.¡± I nodded to confirm their suspicions. ¡°It is not going to be as easy as that sounds. The first thing I will require from you both is trust. Unconditionally.¡±


    I fixed the both of them with an individual stare. ¡°Can you do that? Meg? Reya?¡± I kept on repeating their names every other sentence. It was a cheap trick, but it would make me more relatable in their eyes, more trustworthy.


    Meg nodded. Small nods, fast and way too jerky. That meant she didn¡¯t trust me. Reya I couldn¡¯t read at all. She¡¯d been friendly at first, right up until Gery had lied for me. Now she was reserved, fearful. She¡¯d given me plenty of signs earlier that betrayed she did not trust me, but now that I needed to read her she¡¯d schooled her expression into one of passive compliance.


    I continued on the assumption neither of them trusted me enough for this, slowly began working my way towards the points they¡¯d have issues with. ¡°I am not a surgeon. I am not a doctor. So I will need to rely on some healing magic for this.¡± I nodded at Meg. ¡°Just like I did with you.¡±


    I waited for them to acknowledge that. Meg nodded in return. Reya frowned.


    Probably wondering how a monster can do healing magic.


    ¡°It is going to be a bit more involved than with you, Meg, and his condition is rather delicate. Infection is a serious risk¡­ and um¡­¡± I motioned towards my outfit caked in dried blood. It was not the most sanitary way to start on someone with these kinds of grievous injuries. ¡°So the first thing we are going to do is wash our hands and arms, yes?¡±


    Meg nodded again, slightly more self-assured now that we were going to do something so banal and I was talking them through all the steps. Even Reya seemed somewhat appeased by my slow and reasonable pace.


    ¡°Right, then bring me some of that linen.¡± I smiled at them.


    The second their attention was diverted I turned my back on them and did something I had never deliberately done in public. I took off my gloves, rolled up my sleeves, and plunged my hands in a bucket, all in quick deliberate motions so they wouldn¡¯t see my claws until I took my hands out again.


    With their attention back on me, I calmly soaped my hands and arms. It did not take them long to notice my claws, and then they both stared at me in utter terror. My composed calmness was an enormous lie. I was exposed, naked. This could end in so many horrible ways.


    Once I was done I reached for one of those towels. I stopped halfway, waiting for them to hand one over to me. They didn¡¯t. Far too terrified. They shouldn¡¯t have been this shocked about this. There had been talk about claws while they¡¯d left me in the water. Far too much talk to be a coincidence. Shae had blabbed. I was not pleased about that, but that issue would have to wait.


    ¡°Do you trust me, Meg?¡± I prompted gently, wearing my best concerned frown. Internally I was freaking out and begging her to respond. If I could get Meg to trust me then I could hopefully get to Reya as well. This was entirely the reason I had initially wanted to do this with only Meg. It was so much harder doing it with two people.


    Meg stared at my claws utterly doe-eyed for a little longer, then she appeared to steady herself. After taking a big lungful of air she crouched down next to me. She did not just hand me a towel, she gripped my hand as well. ¡°Please, please, save him.¡± She begged me. Then she washed her own hands.


    I was confused. That was the second time now someone had reached out and grabbed my monstrous, clawed hands in just as many days. It wasn¡¯t just Shae that was weird. Everyone here was weird. I had to put a stop to this before everyone turned this into a ¡®touch the claws to prove ourselves¡¯ game. If only I knew how.


    At least I had been right. With Meg convinced it did not take long for Reya to follow. While they both dried their hands, I turned to Uncle Tare. He was still out cold. Reya had tried to wake him but hadn¡¯t gotten much more than confused mumbling. We had decided to leave him be for now. Once we started he would either wake up from the pain, or he wouldn¡¯t.


    It would have been better to have him on a table instead of a bed. That should have been obvious to me from the start. I briefly considered moving him, but the tiny table in the living quarters would not hold him. Dragging either him or a bigger table across the village in the dead of night did not appeal to me either, so we¡¯d have to make do.


    ¡°Now, let us take a look, shall we.¡± I started undoing bandages. Reya was quick to help. Meg appeared to pale a little as she saw us work and retreated to a corner of the room.


    I began feeling along the edges of the first exposed injury, careful to not let my claws break the skin. Reya was staring at my claws with enough intensity to get her own hands tangled in the bandage she was unwrapping so I caught her attention with a clearing of my throat.


    ¡°The second thing,¡± I said, trying to keep her eyes trained on my face by talking to her.


    ¡°Oh¡­ um¡­ right?¡± she questioned.


    ¡°I will be going from wound to wound, starting with some of the lesser ones to get a feel for his injuries before moving on to his leg. I will treat the worst of it with some healing magic, then it is up to you,¡± I lectured. ¡°Once I am done, wash out the wound, plaster a generous dose of honey, and apply fresh bandages.¡±


    I made Reya repeat what I¡¯d just told her. Then I made Meg do the same. Reya was not pleased with me treating her like an idiot. I did not care. I needed her to be able to do this blindfolded.


    ¡°There is a minor hitch with this whole procedure though. I am fairly competent at healing magic, but it is not healthy for me¡­¡± I hesitated.


    Again I could not think of a nice way to explain this to them. Healing magic was Tonaltus based, just like the rune crafting I¡¯d done earlier. Unlike with rune crafting, there would be no safe and slow way to go about it for me. This would hurt. A lot. A hell of a lot.


    ¡°Using healing magic kills me.¡±

 1.17 — Giddy With Excitement

    ¡°Wait? What? You¡­ no¡­ Vale. No!¡± Meg instantly forgot her queasiness and stormed up to me. ¡°We are not trading your life for his.¡±


    ¡°Meg. Meg! MEG!¡± I had to raise my voice a couple of times to get her to calm down.


    Right, theatrical overstatements don¡¯t go over well.


    Will so look like I¡¯m killing myself though.


    ¡°Let me finish!¡± I shushed her. ¡°And do not give me those looks. I am not going to kill myself.¡±


    I fixed both of them with stares until I judged them sufficiently calm to continue with my explanation.


    ¡°I will need to push myself to save this man. It is going to look bad, I am not going to lie about that. You will let me work, no matter how bad it looks,¡± I explained, then I focused on the town healer and gestured towards my shoulder. ¡°Reya, remember how Gery told you this was just some damage to my clothes. He lied. I heal. Fast.¡±


    I really hoped this gamble paid off. It would have been so much easier if I had asked Gery to assist me. But no, I chose Meg for some stupid reason. Now I had to convince both of them that the horrible things I was going to do to my body were perfectly fine.


    Reya looked at me open-mouthed, trying to find a way to fit this new information into her worldview. ¡°So¡­ you healed yourself?¡±


    This was not a good response. I almost wanted to carve myself up with a knife just to prove my point, but Meg had just sat down at my revelation and was now looking rather sickly. I doubted painting the room with my blood would go over well with her.


    ¡°Fine. If that is how you want to think about it.¡± I sighed at Reya. It would have to do. ¡°No matter how sick or unwell I look, do not interrupt or distract me. Magic is¡­ tricky. If I lose focus while I am working¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know. I¡¯ve worked with an Academy doctor before,¡± Reya interrupted me. ¡°Are you trying to get Meg to faint or are we going to do this?¡±


    I glanced at Meg. She did look rather ashen. No matter how much I wanted her here, asking her might have been a mistake. ¡°I am sorry, Meg, I may have underestimated how hard this is on you. Would you like to leave? I am sure we can do this with the two of us.¡±


    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine,¡± Meg said after swallowing several times. ¡°You wanted me here, right, for trust.¡± She gave me a thin smile. It looked entirely unconvincing.


    ¡°That¡¯s it? She¡¯s here because you don¡¯t trust me?¡± Reya lashed out at me.


    Her outburst wasn¡¯t entirely unexpected. The village healer had shifted from being wary of me to being displeased with me ever since I¡¯d insisted Meg stay. It surprised me more that it took her this long to really make a point of it.


    ¡°Yes.¡± I nodded meekly, assuming that making her feel validated was the quickest way I¡¯d get this shut down. With some luck displaying some vulnerability would isolate her a little from Meg as well.


    ¡°That¡¯s cheap, Girl. Real cheap,¡± Reya admonished me. ¡°Trust goes both ways you know.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Reya. We did kind of threaten her earlier.¡± Meg shook her head. ¡°I¡¯d have trouble trusting us as well.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ fine!¡± Reya spat in a way that made it clear that this was anything but fine. ¡°Let¡¯s leave this until after we¡¯ve saved this man¡¯s life.¡±


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    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I muttered, persisting in my display of submissiveness.


    ¡°Shut it. You and I will have a chat about this later.¡± Reya gestured towards Uncle Tare. ¡°Now, the patient.¡±


    ¡°Right. Sorry. Two more things,¡± I said. Reya opened her mouth to shoot more venom my way. I spoke over her before she could interrupt. ¡°One. If I pass out, redress his wounds and hope for the best. Two. Saving his leg is beyond my capabilities. We are amputating. I told his wife that was a maybe. That was a lie.¡±


    <hr>


    The revelation that I needed to amputate had gone over surprisingly well. Maybe they¡¯d had too many shocks in one night to experience any more. Maybe they¡¯d been expecting it all along.


    Or maybe I had casually forgotten to mention that there was a fifty-fifty chance of Uncle Tare not surviving the procedure, or that he might die within weeks after even a successful amputation.  Granted, with judicious application of healing magic his chances of survival went up dramatically. Still, amputation was not a simple thing, and I wasn¡¯t exactly experienced at it.


    Finally, all of the explaining and preparing was done and we were ready to start. Despite the grim situation, I was momentarily giddy with excitement. Neither Meg nor Reya were mages. They would have no way to tell. Metzus magic was illegal. Forbidden. Taboo. Yet here was a situation where I could safely use it. Mostly safely.


    As no one taught it I had to figure most of it out with trial and error. Little of what I knew was useable, but there was one application that was appropriate here. It would dramatically cut down on the amount of Tonaltus and Atlus I would need to channel.


    The risk was minimal, so I suppressed a maniacal grin, and with barely any need to focus at all separated a large strand of Metzus energies from my being. Splitting the strand into individual threads I weaved my spell array and directed the weave into the first wound.


    Pushing Metzus energies into a human body, an Atlus vessel, is bad. It¡¯s the exact same thing as pulling Tonaltus through my Metzus vessel. Just like my body can only tolerate the tiniest, hair-thinnest threads of Tonaltus, the human body can only handle the finest filament of Metzus.


    I was using this to test where the infection had taken root. By directing my weave in and around the wound, and feeling where I encountered resistance, I would know where to focus my healing. In spots where my magic damaged flesh the wound was clean and I pulled back. There where I encountered no opposition required further attention. In those places, I split my weave ever finer, until I could discern the approximate outline of the contamination.


    I was further wounding the man by doing this. But I was convinced I could manage this. The tiny amount of extra healing he would require was offset by the massive savings from scouting the wound with Metz¡ª


    Damn!


    A vein of black spread out from the wound, snaking up the man¡¯s arm. I hadn¡¯t been careful enough. I pulled back my weave and reached inside me. This was bad. This was really bad. No time to be careful. No time to layer this.


    ¡°Sard! What is¡ª¡± Reya squeaked.


    ¡°Shut up!¡± I shut her down with a shout. I could not afford distractions.


    I grasped on to the first strands of Atlus and Tonaltus I could find and began weaving threads together. No one ever weaves in their core. There¡¯s not enough flexibility if you pre-weave, you can¡¯t correct as you go. I¡¯ve never had a choice. You needed to pull whole strands to weave outside of your core and if I did that they¡¯d still be scraping me off the walls next week.


    The weave I managed was crude, a hastily cobbled-together mess. Pretty didn¡¯t matter. It was fast. I pulled the mesh out of my core and into the wound at a pace that was only barely slow enough to keep the lattice intact. I deliberately bit my lip to distract myself from the horrible wrongness deep in my bowels.


    ¡°Done.¡± I sagged back in the chair, directing Reya to bandage the wound.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Reya asked me with obvious concern. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding.¡±


    I was anything but okay. Healing one small wound and I was exhausted. I swept at the trickle of blood dripping from my lip down my chin. As long as that was all she saw wrong with me then it was fine. As long as I did not get up she would not notice the goopy mess that was streaming down my inner thigh. From the horrible burning sensation deep in my belly, I could only assume that the ropy liquid was what remained of my intestines.


    ¡°I¡¯ll manage,¡± I told her, feigned a smile, and gestured towards the next wound.


    It would take a couple of minutes for what I just did to myself to heal. For this next injury, I¡¯d need to source the Tonaltus from a different part of my core, maybe someplace a little higher up. Lungs were equally optional for me as a digestive system. I was certain Reya could manage for a little while without me talking to her.

 1.18 — Ears… Are Not Optional?

    Weird?


    Something¡­ wrong?


    Funny?


    No.


    Was¡­ wrong¡­


    Verbs.


    Verbs, verbs, verbs!


    Still weird¡­


    Sticky?


    Something¡­


    leaking¡­


    Out of my ear¡­


    <hr>


    Shaking?


    Something was shaking me. It was the Pepper-blood. No, the Reya. Food has names, I reminded myself.


    Pepper-blood taste like pepper?


    Hungry.


    I was hungry and the Pepper-blood meal was trying to steal my food.


    ¡°Vale! Give me the leg, Vale.¡±


    It looked terrified and upset and was leaking almost as much as I had been leaking. Someone once told me that frightened food tasted better. I did not know if this applied to leaking food as well.


    ¡°Listen to me. You can. NOT. Eat. The leg.¡±


    ¡°Not?¡± I stammered.


    The words made sense, only I did not know why.


    Work is done?


    Why no food?


    Something was missing, and I was missing something.


    Food made everything better, right?


    Why was the Pepper-blood denying me my food?


    Not letting me eat was a very stupid thing to do right now. Hunger was clawing at my mind, making it hard to think, and the Pepper-blood was making it worse.


    No, the Reya. Food has names.


    Mind going in circles.


    My¡­ mind?


    Something leaking out of my ear¡­


    Leaking¡­


    out of¡­


    my ear¡­


    Mind!


    ¡­


    Oh!


    I let go of the amputated leg and reached for my ear. There was something sticky caked on my cheek and tangled in my hair that I did not want to think about. Was struggling to think about. Was struggling to think about anything.


    Struggling? What struggling?


    Do this before?


    I tried to piece together my memory, tasted the air in an attempt to get any kind of bearing.


    The food-thief Pepper-blood. At the wall. Delightful, spicy fear.


    The greasy, warty, Oil-blood. In bed. Disgusting agony of sickness, richly slathered in honey.


    The Lemongrass-and-cotton-blood. On the ground. Sweet, sleeping delight of a dessert banquet.


    Wildflower-girl and Not-quite-yeast and ahuizotl?


    No. That before. After now.


    Only after was a swamp with¡­


    Stuff leaking out of¡­


    My mouth?


    I sucked in a strand of drool that was leaking out and chewed my inner lip.


    ¡°Uuuuh¡­¡± I tried to formulate a question. ¡°Wha happen?¡±


    Verbs.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.Verbs, verbs, verbs!


    Coherency was lacking.


    At least my tongue isn¡¯t¡­


    Optional?


    The Pepper-blood¡­ the Reya was backed up against the wall giving me a funny look that I only noticed when I stopped focusing on the sweet-metronome beat of her heart pounding through the vein in her neck.


    Funny, but not two of her?


    Hungry!


    The frightened meal glowered at me through tear-stained eyes as my gaze roved from her face back to her neck.


    Eat. Food. Starving.


    There were a million aches and pains all throughout my body that would not heal because I was starving and I thought my brain was one of them. I needed food. But not Pepper-blood Reya. I forced my gaze away from her neck once more and pushed myself out of the chair.


    For some strange reason my¡­ hand¡­


    Skin¡­ not stick glued to chair?


    My legs collapsed.


    Weird. Not supposed to happen.


    Legs and arms should stretch funny.


    I tried to get myself to be something else than a vague, collapsed¡­ droopy¡­ heap on the ground.


    Droopy?


    I was not droopy, just weak and starved, and having trouble keeping my memories from interfering with the present. I needed. I needed¡­


    Food?


    Coherency?


    I needed to take things one step at a time. Flopping on the ground I tried to wriggle my arms into a configuration that would support my weight. Once I¡¯d managed that I began working my jaw and tongue. Both would be needed for words.


    ¡°Uhhh¡­ Reya¡­¡± I panted, finally having gotten my arms underneath me and my tongue into a semblance of non-optionality. ¡°Ahhh¡­ I¡­¡± I had to pause, remind myself there were verbs, find the right verbs, get them in the right places, figure out all the other parts that made up a sentence. ¡°¡­I think I may have magicked out my brain.¡±


    ¡°You think!¡± Came the absolutely scathing reply.


    It took a while to turn the words in that reply into concepts. Then a little while longer to recognize the concept as¡­ Sarcasm? Cynism? Something like it. Identifying the intent behind a tone of voice was good. It meant I was getting my mind back together.


    Worse was that it meant my guess was correct. I did not even want to know what had happened while I was mentally indisposed. By the amount of drooping, sticking, leaking, and stretching lodged in my mind I had a sinking feeling it involved significantly more bodily horrors than I had wanted to subject either Reya or Meg to. I may have also swallowed my tongue somewhere along the way. That I could talk either meant it had regrown or that I was imagining things.


    ¡°What did I do?¡± I wondered aloud, more to myself than to her.


    ¡°You healed the man,¡± she responded.


    ¡°Um¡­¡± I knitted my brow and looked from her to Uncle Tare and back in confusion. He was¡­ fine? Bandaged, amputated, much less about to die than earlier, almost edible even.


    Have I done all that while¡­ ?


    I gave Reya a questioning look.


    ¡°We will not talk about the other things. Ever!¡± She declared.


    That bad then.


    ¡°Meg?¡± I searched for the russet-haired woman. She looked delicious even asleep on the ground.


    ¡°She¡¯s fine. You are lucky she was out cold before¡­¡± she gagged. ¡°Before y¡ª¡± she retched and dropped the leg.


    Food!


    Starving¡­ not good¡­ try not to eat people.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I muttered, chewing my lip bloody and suckling on my own blood. ¡°Wasn¡¯t supposed to be this bad.¡±


    Wait¡­ out cold?


    I took another look at Meg, Reya¡¯s words jogging my fragmented memory just enough to piece some things together. Meg had not taken to the gruesome healing procedure well. After my¡­ second? ¡­third? ¡­casting of healing magic, Reya had given her something to soothe the stomach. It hadn¡¯t helped. Meg had fainted shortly afterward anyway.


    My fault she¡¯s like this.


    Should have let her leave.


    Should have forced her to leave.


    While my mind worked on that I somehow managed to maneuver my feet in a position that would hopefully allow me to stand. I had been trying just that, to little success. The very strings of my own Metzus, needed to manipulate my puppet body slipped right out of my grasp every time I reached with them. I needed more, thicker, and sturdier strands, but there was so little of me left that I feared losing control somewhere else.


    ¡°Do you need help getting up?¡± Reya offered me in a tone that made it clear that stepping in to help was the absolute last thing she wanted to do right now.


    ¡°Yes, but don¡¯t come any nearer,¡± I warned, after swallowing the blood that had pooled into my mouth, and momentarily diverting Metzus from my legs back to my face so I¡¯d be able to answer coherently.


    I was quick to agree with Reya¡¯s reluctance to come near me. Drinking my own blood meant I was not in a state to tolerate anyone close to me right now. It was nothing but a stopgap measure, a temporary placebo to get my mind off of drinking people dry. I doubted it would hold up if someone were to present their neck to me right now.


    Reya heeded my warning and kept her distance. I renewed my focus on standing up. With some perseverance, I managed. Even then the room swayed and I needed to steady myself with a hand on the chair. In a way, that was good. It meant I had reclaimed enough control over my body to manage legs and arms at the same time.


    ¡°I um¡­ think I need to lie down for a bit,¡± I tried, feeling adventurous enough to try legs, arms, and mouth at the same time.


    ¡°A fine plan,¡± Reya agreed with me, then nodded towards Uncle Tare. ¡°But maybe you can do that somewhere else. He needs his rest.¡±


    I offered her a jerky nod, then stumbled out of the bedroom one unsteady step at a time. This made Reya backpedal into the living quarters and around the table. Only when I was firmly out of the way did she return to the bedroom to wake up Meg. I suckled some more on my lip while she did that. Only when Reya mentioned to Meg that it was morning and time to get up did I notice the soft orange glow filtering in through the windows.


    How?


    Just how much of a hole in my memory do I have?

 1.19 — A Hum of Hunger and Blood

    I frowned at the completely empty stretch of land in front of Uncle Tare¡¯s house. I had parked Fern right there, outside the door. And now she wasn¡¯t here anymore. Fern did not just wander off like that. Clearly, someone had stolen her.


    ¡°Where is my horse?¡± I asked the two women that exited after me.


    I received only confused responses from Meg and Reya. Apparently, neither of them was involved in the theft of my horse. This was worrying. I was neither coherent enough to ferret out the culprit, nor fit enough to walk off without my horse.


    I was actually in such a horrible shape that even in the shade the morning sun was melting my hands a lovely shade of sunburn, my healing no longer even capable of keeping up with that.


    Or my amulet running out of charge?


    I fingered the thing, feeling out the energy embedded in the runes. There wasn¡¯t much left, but still enough for another day or so. Then it really was my natural healing ability that had run dry.


    And I¡¯m forgetting my gloves.


    Wow¡­ took a long time for me to realize that.


    Really, really out of it.


    A stumbling detour to fetch my gloves later, the two women waiting for me had turned into three. The new meal was the Chicken-broth-blood, tasting of worry and far too little sleep. I squinted, trying to recognize more than her scent, but the early morning sunlight was already affecting my eyesight enough that all I could discern was that she was older than the other two and had dark-blonde shoulder-length hair.


    ¡°You must be tired, Child, working like that all throughout the night,¡± Chicken-broth pointed out. ¡°We¡¯ve got a room for you at our bunkhouse if you¡¯d like to rest up. All your stuff is already there.¡±


    So that was how they were doing this. There was a distinct difference between offering someone a room, and forcing it on them by stealing their horse and stashing all their gear in said room. I was far too weary to offer anything more than token resistance though, so all I managed was a very tired ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°It was Shae¡¯s idea actually,¡± she admitted. ¡°She arranged all of this just a moment ago.¡±


    ¡°Of course it¡¯s Shae.¡± I sighed.


    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s a handful alright. Onar¡¯s going to have another fit when he finds out,¡±  she echoed my sigh, ¡°as if we haven¡¯t got our hands full enough already.¡±


    I cracked a smile despite how much effort it took to emote right now. It was nice to know that Onar was being subjected to Shae¡¯s delinquency just as much as I was. An added bonus was that smiling reopened the cut on my lip.


    Mmmh¡­ Blood.


    My recollection of the trip to the inn was vague at best. Anything that did not involve hunger was vague, that is. I briefly considered biting Chicken-broth¡¯s arm, but did not feel like a mouthful of cloth. She was sadly of average height, which made her neck too high up for me to reach. I tried jumping, was not up to it, and nearly tripped us both.


    The room they gave me was spartan and far too big. With two massive beds, it could easily house a whole family. Yet its biggest disadvantage was the large south-east facing window. The morning sun streaming in through it painted a nice yellow rectangle on the beds.


    And then there was the other thing. Actually accepting to rest here was the stupidest thing I had ever done. And I had done a lot of stupid things over the past couple of days. With how badly I had over-exerted on the healing I was defenseless, and all the people here that hated me knew exactly where I was. They wouldn¡¯t even need hunters or the Inquisition to get at me anymore. Anyone that wanted to get rid of the monster could just walk in here and take care of me. I was so weak right now I wouldn¡¯t be able to stop them.


    I should have cared about those concerns. They should have worried me deeply. They didn¡¯t. Not feeling up to much of anything anymore I simply rescued a blanket from the clutches of the sun and rolled myself into it in the darkest corner of the room. Then I let my thoughts drift away from me.


    <hr>


    Hunger!


    Hunger, hunger, food, hunger, food, food, food, hunger, hunger, food, hunger, food!


    Food!


    There was food in the common room below and it called to me, breaking through to my hibernating mind. My nose tracked the prey as it milled about on the ground floor. They were strong meals. Their blood sang a wondrous song of familiar and unfamiliar fragrances, all so delightfully filling.


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    I did not know exactly how much time had passed, but with the urge to feed this overwhelming my rest was over. If I didn¡¯t get moving now, the hunger wouldn¡¯t just be overpowering. It would be all there was left of me.


    I forced my cravings down.


    Down.


    Down!


    Out of thought. Out of mind.


    There was no turning it off, never a turning it off, but I could tune it out, ignore it, pretend it wasn¡¯t there. I had five normal senses, and a perfectly normal, rational mind. They were people, not food. I was still¡­


    Hungry!


    Starving!


    I cracked open an eye. Light filtered into the room. The sun was up, mid-afternoon if I had to judge by the quality of the light. It was a shitty guess, my sense of time felt way off. At least I was fairly certain it was still the same day. If it were a new one then my hunger¡­ I would no longer be thinking this rationally.


    Suppressing a shiver I crawled out of my blanket-nest. Tried to crawl out. It was slow and clumsy work. My puppet-limbs did not cooperate. Every time I had almost unentangled a limb a new stretch of fabric blocked any further maneuvering. It was ridiculous, I was making no progress. All I needed to do was free my arms and roll out of the blankets, yet my arms refused to cooperate, the Metzus I needed to animate my body a struggle to wield. I might as well have been bound in chains.


    Too weak. I need to¡­


    Feed?


    Breathe?


    Breathing was a good start. I was usually good at keeping at least that going while I rested, but apparently not now. I forced air into my lungs, forced them to work. Then I focused on my heart. Very little of my body protested to the blood I was circulating through my veins. This was surprising because¡­


    I nearly killed myself last night?


    Body sort of healed then¡­


    Still starving¡­


    Starving was bad. Hunger was¡­ everything right now. I had to fix that. There was food downstairs. I just had to get there.


    No!


    No, no, no!


    They are not food.


    I shook my head, tried to disperse the grasp hunger had on my thoughts. There was another way, a better way to deal with this hunger. It was going to be painful; I had far too little experience with it. Squeezing my eyes shut I resolved myself. I¡¯d need to do it anyway.


    I focused on the steady rhythm of my breathing, timed it to the beating of my heart. Then I let the motions involved in my breathing and my heartbeat slip away from conscious thought, gently slip away until they became a near-subconscious instinct. Once I had that going I loosened the reins on my senses.


    Hunger. Hunger. Hunger!


    Force it down.


    Not their blood but mine.


    I tracked my own blood as it pumped through my veins, followed it to organs that lay dormant, let my awareness seep into them along with my blood. Intestines, stomach, gall, liver, I felt them all as much as I could feel my own heartbeat.


    I had so little experience with this. There was so much that could go wrong. I took a couple of moments to let the feeling settle, made sure I got it right. Then I did to those organs what I had already done to my heart.


    As soon as I was done I strained my ears to listen to the blood circulating through my veins. Chewing my lip, I waited, worry stirring within me at every unexpected sound and twitch of a muscle. Only when minutes later still nothing had ruptured or exploded did I know that I had not screwed it up.


    Gathering my courage I repeated the same process with several other systems, most of which I did not know of what they were supposed to do, only that they helped. A whole host of novel pains assaulted me. I worked through those as best as I could. As I forced more and more of my puppet body out of dormancy a new kind of hunger joined the first.


    The plain, human hunger of an empty stomach.


    It was a strange and weak desire, this craving for normal food, but it weakened the hunger for blood in turn. In many ways, the longing for human food I gained by animating so much of my body was a lie. It didn¡¯t change what I needed to survive. All that simulating my digestive system did was make me capable of digesting things I ate. It did not mean that the digestion would grant me meaningful sustenance.


    With the worst of the grueling work of animating my organs over with I breathed a sigh of relief. I was finally able to relax a little. Only a little. Lungs and heartbeat I could manage without much conscious thought. The same didn¡¯t go for everything else. Dividing my focus between every little part of my vessel strained my mind, badly.


    It had not taken me all that long to learn that I could perform this trick. But mastering it to the point where I could do what I had just done had proven another matter entirely.


    My vessel was inherently magical, powered by the very Metzus it is composed of. Too little blood, too little Metzus, and I could not keep myself going. That was where my hungering came from. It was also why I couldn¡¯t get myself out of the blankets earlier. Too little blood. Too much hunger. Too weak.


    Anatomically I was also very similar to a human. That was where the trick came in.  It allowed me to eat, to shit, to age, and grow. Most important of all, it allowed for a different way to sustain me, one with less hunger. Maybe I could someday even sustain my body the same way a normal person did. Hopefully. Eventually. There was a lot I still needed to figure out. For now, I could only manage a very meager facsimile. It sustained badly, but sustain it did.


    As far as I had been able to figure out I was still missing certain vital, inherent body-chemistries. The lack of those meant I was slowly poisoning myself from the inside out. Yet I had gotten close enough that it cost less Metzus for my natural healing to counteract the poison than it did to sustain my vessel the traditional way.


    This was how I coped with debilitating hunger. By brute-forcing the most elaborate lie of humanity. It would never be a replacement. It only kept me going just that little bit longer. I still hungered. I still needed to drink blood to survive, if a little less of it. But with so much effort spent on running my body the way normal people did, I did not need quite as much Metzus to animate myself. Less drain on Metzus, less hunger. It was as simple as that. I now hoped this trick would last me long enough to get out of this town before I did things I would later regret.


    Finally feeling well enough to move, I extricated myself from the blankets, one barely cooperative limb at a time. Cramps and aches were everywhere, a side effect of what I had just done. It would get better.


    Now if only I had a similar trick to get myself out of the clutches of this town.

 1.20 — Subtle Echoes of Not Hungry

    All of my stuff had been dumped in a pile in a corner of the room. That meant someone, probable Shae or the Chicken-broth woman, had carried it all here after stabling Fern. Feeling suspicious, I moved over to inspect it. Crossbow, blade, saddlebags, rucksack, at first glance everything was still there, even the bag of runestones.


    I groaned. If anyone had looked inside that bag and had recognized the runestones then I was so screwed.  Worrying about things beyond my control wouldn¡¯t help though. All I could do now was plan for the worst and hope for the best. At least no one had killed me while I rested.


    Sooo¡­ that¡¯s a positive, right?


    I unsheathed my blade and tried to inspect myself in the cloudy reflection. My cheeks were still their annoying fluffy and cute self. Thankfully they were currently being overshadowed by the haunted look in my eyes and the disheveled tangle that was my hair. That wasn¡¯t even taking into account the reeking mess that my clothes were now.


    How have I gotten myself into such a horrendous state?


    Something leaking out of my ear¡­


    Right. That explained an awful lot. I scrutinized my face some more.


    Does this look like the face of a sane individual?


    Am I really still sane after what I did to myself last night?


    I tried to examine my thought patterns, tried to discern if there was a difference.


    Would I even be able to tell if I lost a part of my sanity?


    I had my skull bashed in once. I didn¡¯t feel any different after that, so hopefully this was the same. I decided I couldn¡¯t tell if something changed, and moved on to fixing my hair. That was about the only part of me I could fix right now.


    Aaaah¡­ I look like a deranged toddler.


    Deranged. And toddler. It was unlikely that I could fix both of those things with a quick taming of my locks. Getting the sticky snarls of my hair fully presentable again would be a challenge, even with a bath, a brush, and plenty of time. Time I did not have because I was hungry! Holding several tangles in front of my eyes I tried to figure out which direction I wanted to go in. At first glance, deranged felt slightly more preferable over toddler.


    Have I really got my priorities straight?


    Meh.


    I gave up almost as soon as I had started. It was unfixable. My face and hair really didn¡¯t matter with the state my clothes were in. So instead of that, I attempted to rearrange all of my gear into a configuration that would allow me to carry it all down in one go. This took me far longer than it should. Weakened as I was I could not rely on brute strength to compensate for a lack of proper packing.


    Stupid sun weakness.


    Stupid hunger!


    Stupid friggin village.


    Stupid! Idiotic! Suicidal me!


    Grumbling about the unfairness of it all I clumsily worked my way down the stairs. My complaining only succeeded in reminding me that extracting myself from the clutches of this village was likely to become way more of an uphill battle than I felt up to right now.


    I arrived in the common room to the stares of four people. One of them was Hot-ember¡ª  I mean Limn. Their conversation halted as soon as they spotted me. Limn turned to look at me. We sized each other up.


    I really did not feel like a confrontation right now, no matter how appetizing of a snack he looked like. He was the second tastiest thing in this village by far, only barely overshadowed by the Slow-hum-of-tempered-steel woman sitting next to him at the table.


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    I wrenched my eyes away from their exposed necks before I would lose control and scanned the room for an exit. Any exit that would not lead me near their table would do. I began chewing the inside of my lip to distract myself from the food in front of me.


    Then the faint stirring of an opening door came from behind me, followed by the scent of chicken broth. It was unmistakably the old lady that had led me to this bunkhouse earlier. I could feel her standing there, in that open doorway, with an undertone of caution and uncertainty in her aroma. Clearly even the relatively friendly people here, people like her, had no idea what to think of me.


    I tried to not let it show that I was aware of her presence. Being able to tell where someone was, what they were thinking by scent alone tended to freak people out. No matter how much I clamped down on my senses, little things like these kept on slipping through the cracks. It required constant vigilance on my part, with a single mistake likely to betray that I wasn¡¯t entirely human.


    When Limn got up from his chair and looked my way I changed my mind. If the Chicken-broth woman had come from a door behind me, and this was her bunkhouse, then that probably was her living quarters or a kitchen back there. Places like that usually had another door leading out. That was the Limn-free exit I was looking for, and so I turned to face her.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± she startled at my sudden turn, but hid it behind fake cheer. ¡°You¡¯re up, Dear? Did you sleep well?¡±


    No. Hungry!


    I kept my thoughts to myself, merely frowned at her, and chewed my lip a little harder. No one ever displayed that much happiness without ulterior motives. I really did not have the patience right now to ferret them out or dance around them. Far too much of my conscious thoughts were being spent on thinking about hunger, not trying to think about hunger, and keeping unfamiliar organs going so I needed to think less about hunger.


    And the only route to my new exit would bring me right past her. Uncomfortably close to her. And her neck. It would maybe even force me to interact with her. Somehow I¡¯d need to manage all that without giving in to the hunger gnawing at me. I snuck a look past her at the room beyond the door, wondering if I could just ignore her and dart out that way without engaging in conversation.


    She either did not notice, or did not care about my lack of response so far. Instead, she glanced over my head at the approaching Limn. For a moment that small gesture grated on me more than the hunger, more than Limn thinking he could just walk up to me. The way she was casually looking over me, it was the kind of thing people did to kids.


    Not a kid!


    Said I was going to tolerate it till the sun¡¯s up. Well, sun¡¯s up. Tolerance gone!


    I opened my mouth to call her out on it, but was forced to revise my opinion of her several times in rapid succession. First, her cheery yet somewhat bored demeanor transformed into a furious scowl directed at the approaching Limn. Then she forcibly grabbed me by the shoulder and pushed me through the door I was eyeing, away from Limn¡¯s reach.


    Maybe I do like her?


    She ruined my momentary appreciation by following it up with a merrily tittered, ¡°Come, Child, you must be hungry after all you did last night. I saved some leftovers from lunch for you.¡±


    Aaaagh!


    Her casually calling me a child made me want to drink her blood. Then her mentioning food made me want to drink her blood in an entirely different way. Anger and hunger fought for dominance. Hunger won out. Expectantly, I glanced up at her neck. When instead of offering her neck she ushered me in the direction of a table and moved towards a pot simmering over a fire I stared at the ground in embarrassment.


    What am I thinking?


    Rarely been this hungry before¡­


    All of the attention I needed to spend on keeping unfamiliar organs running was requiring far too much of my focus. It was making me slip on my human fa?ade in embarrassing, unexpected, and downright dangerous ways.


    In frustration, I renewed the chewing on my inner lip in earnest. I would do anything at all to distract myself from my hunger. It made even the sensation of my fang brushing the outside of my lower lip pure bliss.


    Too much fang! Too much fang! Too much fang!


    I hastily let go of my lip. It curled back over my fangs, hiding them from view. Shooting a quick glance around the room, I prayed no one had noticed my newest slip-up.


    And I had more to worry about than just Chicken-broth. She and I weren¡¯t the only two people in this room. There was another man in here, with a hint of careful confession of a lovelorn firebird hiding in his blood. I hadn¡¯t even noticed him, so focused that I was on not thinking about food. He had been sorting out linen. Had been. Now he was staring at me.


    Aaaah¡­ what if he noticed the fangs?


    He so noticed!


    ¡°Here you go, Dear.¡± The elderly woman placed a bowl on the table in front of me, apparently completely unaware of my inner turmoil. The contents of the bowl looked like chicken broth. It smelled like chicken broth. I was convinced it was going to taste nothing like chicken broth to me.


    Nowhere near as much as she would.


    I really couldn¡¯t stay here. I was a danger to everyone around me. Just like I had expected, there was another door in the back of the room that looked like it might lead outside.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I mumbled. ¡°Not hungry.¡±


    Then I rushed out the door. Blinding light assaulted my eyes.


    Right. Sun.

 1.21 — A Momentary Pang of Pity

    I swayed on my feet, assailed by the sudden sun-imposed weakness. A single extra step and I nearly sunk to my knees. Near starvation, and overloaded with gear, I had trouble simply staying on my feet.


    Using one hand to lean against the door I had just closed behind me I took stock. The sole positive I could find in my situation was that I had managed to flee the building. Only now I was stuck here in the middle of town with only the faintest idea of where here was. I was still every bit as blind in the sun as I had always been. And the vague blobs I could see were not going to be much help navigating.


    While I could rely on my nose to figure out which vague shadows were people, I really didn¡¯t want to right now. No, I had to fall back to what I remembered from the town. So I tried to recall what I had seen of it over the past two nights. Luckily this place was tiny. With only seven dwellings in the center and a number of smaller farms littered around that, it was barely even a settlement. Navigating it shouldn¡¯t be all too hard, as long as I didn¡¯t get it wrong.


    Anyone about to come after me?


    The door behind me hadn¡¯t opened yet, so hopefully not. Gambling that my horse would be stabled in an outbuilding near or connected to the bunkhouse I began tracing the wall of the place I had just exited. I tried to do it as inconspicuous as possible. The fewer people who suspected that I was basically blind the better. Meanwhile, I hoped that I would not stumble on something that I could not see and no one hostile to me secretly had a bow trained on me.


    Two right turns later I discovered that the stable was indeed adjacent. Fern was stabled there. It even had a roof so I could see what I was doing while I saddled and loaded my horse. I thanked the gods for small mercies while I got everything ready to leave.


    I took a little more time with it than I had when fleeing Onar¡¯s farm two days ago. Unlike then, I had all my gear to account for this time. Setting a speed record would not help if I ended up forgetting half of my stuff. Yes, I had the niggling feeling that I was forgetting something, only I couldn¡¯t place what it was.


    I was almost ready to take Fern out when I heard someone rush towards the barn. The footfalls were followed by a misty Cedarwood fragrance. Grunting in annoyance I turned to the door, just in time to see Gery slide to a stop.


    ¡°Haa¡­ Vale¡­¡± he panted. ¡°You¡¯re still here.¡±


    He had his hands on his knees and was gasping for breath. Wherever he had come from, he had clearly needed to hurry to intercept me before I left.


    Right.


    Of course they¡¯d sent someone I already know to chase after me.


    Neither the Chicken-broth woman nor the Firebird man from the bunkhouse had run after me. I did not know them, didn¡¯t even know their names, so I had no reason to listen to them. It was so much more effective to send someone after me that I actually knew. This town really, really had issues with letting me leave.


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    Yes, It wasn¡¯t difficult to figure out what this was, yet another attempt to keep me here a little longer. If it were anyone else but Gery holding me up I would begin to suspect this was all just a massive, misguided attempt to delay me long enough until the Inquisition could get here. Gery was way too nice and simple for that though.


    Someone else could be manipulating him into keeping me here?


    I suppressed that thought before I could begin seeing this entire town as a giant Inquisition conspiracy.


    Someone trying to get me to eat someone?


    I suppressed that thought as well. I did not need extra reminders of my hunger. Not to mention the disturbing implications the thought entailed.


    ¡°I am in fact, leaving,¡± I told the carpenter in clipped tones. I was so, so tired of all the stalling. I wanted to leave and to be left alone.


    How hard is that for these people to understand?


    ¡°Yeah, Shae told me you¡¯d try to slip away,¡± he replied, having somewhat regained his breath.


    Just¡­ how?


    I should have guessed that Shae was involved in this latest attempt somehow. First stealing Fern and rooming me in the bunkhouse. Now this. The amount of meddling she did was staggering.


    Does she secretly run this town?


    From what little I had seen of her attitude I was beginning to assume she at least did a stellar job of running everyone in this place ragged. I felt a momentary pang of pity for Onar, dismissed it just as fast as it had come up.


    I led Fern out the barn and pretend-blinked against the sharp sunlight. Keeping up the pretense in front of Gery might not be all that useful as he had seen me at my worst. Really, I did it mostly to distract myself from staring at his neck.


    I stepped past the carpenter, inconspicuously leaning on Fern for support as I walked into the sun. Hopefully, by continuing to leave he¡¯d be forced to voice his unspoken question. If he hesitated as much as he did last night, I would be gone.


    A part of me wanted to go much further than this subtle manipulation, a part of me wanted to lie and manipulate till the sun came up. I was simply that done with it all. Yet even though I sort of wanted to, I didn¡¯t. I¡¯d only done it with Onar so far. Putting the same kind of pressure on someone like Gery felt wrong, no matter how fast I wanted to get away from here.


    Finally realizing I was about to walk out on him, the carpenter tailed after me. ¡°We¡¯d like to compensate you.¡±


    Again with the compensation?


    Don¡¯t want your compensation.


    Just leave me alone!


    ¡°Sure. Compensate away,¡± I droned, quirked an eyebrow, and kept walking.


    With his long legs, he casually strolled past me and pointed in a completely different direction than where I was going, dangling his deliciously snackable bare arm right in front of my face in the process. ¡°I¡¯ve got some coin at my place and I¡¯m sure Meg can fix you some clean clothes.¡±


    Did my sarcasm really just pass him by like that? I had told him only yesterday that I didn¡¯t need or want his compensation. The prospect of clean clothes, or even simply money for clean clothes was tempting though. I still looked every bit like a deranged toddler.


    Could so use those clean clothes.


    But this hunger¡­


    I smacked my tongue, chewed my lip.


    Managed so far.


    I¡®ll manage five more minutes.


    Reluctantly I gave in and followed him to his place. I paid very close attention to my surroundings as I did so. Following someone by day meant going by scent more than by sight. Right now that meant¡­


    Tasty!


    I needed my distractions. If that meant studying the slight discolorations in the blurry outline of the ground I walked, then I would do so, no matter how ridiculous it looked. Over the course of a single evening, Meg and Gery had gotten fairly close to the top of my not-snacks list, and I preferred to keep it that way.

 1.22 — Hissing Bad Girl!

    My first impression of Gery and Meg¡¯s place was that it smelled of new, the kind of new that only a freshly rebuilt home could have. That sort of made sense. Several dwellings had been washed away in the flood, and I had fished Meg out of the river. What I had not expected was to find Meg holding a tiny little nibble. A two-year-old-boy sort of nibble. I had certainly not fished that out of the water half a year ago.


    Adopted?


    Already rescued before I arrived?


    Maybe Gery had gotten the kid out before his wife?


    I had no time to dwell on it. ¡°Ari, come take care of your little brother!¡± Meg hollered in the general direction of a door in the back of the room as she dumped a spoon in a bowl on the table. ¡°We¡¯ve got guests.¡±


    A little snack of a girl, with a radiant gremlin aura of mushrooms and garlic, poked her head through the doorway. The thing was a measly seven or eight years old with a mane of strawberry blonde curls. She sized me up in that slightly bashful way that young kids do before walking up to her mom and taking her brother in an awkward, almost upside-down hold.


    ¡°Is she the demon lady?¡± the little girl asked, looking up at her mom while wrangling the wailing and writhing tangle of limbs that was her brother.


    ¡°Ari!¡± Meg scolded.


    ¡°Looks more like a demon girl than a demon lady to me,¡± the little gremlin continued unapologetically, pouting in my direction for good measure.


    I¡­ what? Just? How?


    I hate kids.


    Gery interrupted the uncomfortable, rather one-sided, embarrassing, child-like innocence-filled insults the little gremlin was throwing my way by handing me a small handful of silver coins he scooped off the table. While I accepted those, Meg ushered the two kids out of the room, apologizing profusely.


    ¡°Sorry about that. She¡¯s¡­ well¡­ you¡¯re kind of the talk of the town, Child,¡± Meg apologized when she returned.


    Child?


    ¡°It is fine, Meg, she is just a kid,¡± I accepted the apology.


    Meg had carried in a large stick, held in the crook of her arm, and a small bundle of clothes. Crouching down in front of me she offered me those clothes. ¡°Anyway, you should try this on. I think it might be sort of your size¡­ with a little bit of adjustment.¡±


    I blinked at those words, trying to comprehend them. It was so hard to focus with her kneeling in front of me, presenting her neck. My teeth ached in longing. I opened my mouth, licked my lips, yanked the bundle of cloth out of her arms, and backpedaled towards the door, hissing.


    Don¡¯t¡­ just offer your neck to me like that!


    Meg herself startled back from my unexpected aggression. Seeing her reel back I snapped my mouth shut and held up a hand in apology.


    Did I just hiss at her?


    I was way out of it if I was hissing at people.


    Hissing bad girl!


    Yet another reason that I needed to get out of here as fast as I could. I needed to turn this disaster around. I needed to come up with a valid reason for hissing at her that wasn¡¯t hunger.


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    What could I use? What could I use?


    Frantically I searched for an out. Yet with the hunger and everything that came with it even my lies didn¡¯t come as naturally.


    Wait¡­ girl¡­ child?


    She¡¯d called me child. They¡¯d all been treating me as a kid. I had let it slide yesterday, but now, we were putting a stop to it. Right now.


    ¡°Meg. I am not a child. I am 24, so I would appreciate it if everyone could stop addressing me like a little kid,¡± I stated bluntly.


    I got blank stares from both Meg and Gery.


    Did I really just say 24?


    Should have taken something a little more believable, like 14.


    Or 16.


    I can pass as 16.


    Maybe?


    If I really try, I totally can. Really. Just not today, disheveled as I look.


    But I can. I so can.


    ¡°My body¡­ ages differently?¡± I tried to offer in a desperate attempt to save the situation. Meg opened her mouth, hesitated on her reply. Gery was about to interject. Meg shushed him.


    ¡°Right. Certainly Dear,¡± she eventually consented to my explanation with a strained smile. Gery nodded curtly as if to confirm his wife¡¯s words.


    Right. Good.


    Not good.


    They did not believe me. I suppressed an urge to stamp my foot and put them in their place. Acting out like that would only make me look even more childish. Salvaging this conversation looked close to hopeless as it was. No need for me to make it worse.


    I got what I came for, money and clothes. It was time to steer this wreck of a conversation in a different direction, namely me leaving. ¡°Thanks,¡± I mumbled, lightly waving the bundle of clothes in my arms up and down to indicate what I was giving thanks for, then I turned to the door and gave them a resolute, ¡°I¡¯m leaving.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± Meg called after me.


    Oh, come on!


    I glanced back at her. She was holding that weird stick out to me. I had my hand on the door. I could pull it open and leave, ignore this latest attempt at stalling me. But I had already halted my exit to look at her.


    ¡°I was thinking I could maybe tailor those to fit,¡± Meg continued, gesturing her stick at the bundle in my arms. ¡°Or make you something new, maybe fix that hole in your shoulder?¡±


    It¡¯s a measuring stick.


    She carried that in with her, planned this all along.


    I stared at her incredulously, then turned that stare into a fierce glare. ¡°No! All of those take days, and I am leaving right now.¡±


    ¡°Why? Leave now?¡± Meg questioned. ¡°The room in the bunkhouse is taken care of for the next couple of days at least.¡±


    What?


    Did everyone in this village somehow arrange for me to stay here longer behind my back?


    I was almost beginning to think that I really had rested for a day and a night. There was no way these people could be this industrious in just a couple of hours. To my relief, Gery was looking at his wife just as stupefied as I felt right now. He scratched the back of his neck and grinned at me sheepishly. Whatever this mad plan was, it appeared that he might not have been involved with it.


    ¡°Meg¡­ I¡­¡± I started carefully. Then I sighed and stopped keeping the exasperation out of my voice. ¡°Do you know what happens to people that get accused of being a vampire?¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t be that bad¡­¡± she sputtered.


    I scowled even harder. Any second now I¡¯d get a "but we¡¯re not like that". Did I really need to remind her of last night, about leaving me standing in a river for well over fifteen minutes while they figured out if they were going to kill me or not.


    Is this some kind of demented way to make amends?


    ¡°We¡¯re not all like that?¡± she continued, her words tapering off into a whispered question at the end.  The questioning tone was a start at least. It hopefully meant she was aware by now that she couldn¡¯t speak for the entire town.


    I didn¡¯t deign to give her a reply, merely kept up my grim-faced mask.


    ¡°Fine. Go!¡± Meg finally relented. ¡°But at least have the decency to stop by Uncle Tare. His wife wants to thank you.¡±


    Decency. Really?


    That¡¯s the new angle?


    ¡°I will.¡± I nodded curtly. I would be dropping by, not because of decency, but because I realized I had left my medical supplies there. Without the mention of Uncle Tare I probably would have forgotten them.


    ¡°Maybe at least change into those clothes before you go out?¡± Sensing a new opening Meg gestured at the clothes in my arms. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not really presentable right now.¡±


    Fuming, I glared, dumped the outfit she¡¯d handed me on the nearest non-ground surface I could find.


    Fine. You win!


    I capitulate. Make me your bloody dress-up doll.


    Being nice to these people had been the biggest mistake of my life. I began untying the buckles on my gambeson.


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ um¡­ be in the other room,¡± Gery stammered, pointing to the open doorway.


    I glared some more at Gery¡¯s hasty retreat.


    Aaahaha¡­ he¡¯s as prude as he is innocent.

 1.23 — Only When Eating Babies

    Despite agreeing to change clothes, my hands lingered on my belt as I worked up the courage to go through with it. If I hesitated any longer my trepidation would become impossible to hide. Even that didn¡¯t succeed in motivating me. My fear was too great. Nothing was worse than undressing in front of Meg. I had been so¡­ casual about it just moments ago. But now that I actually had to follow through¡­


    It¡¯ll be fine. Meg really hasn¡¯t treated me special so far.


    Even that didn¡¯t manage to reassure me. Despite sometimes addressing me with child, Meg had spoken to me as an equal. As an adult. Yes, even after foolishly blurting out my real age. I wasn¡¯t at all certain if that was going to hold when she saw me naked and realized how much like a kid I really looked.


    And those fears were only about the immediate risk, about dealing with Meg¡¯s reaction when I undressed. The real horror would come when I went out in the clothes she¡¯d prepared for me. There was a lot of padding in my current outfit, and what she¡¯d offered me was plain linen. There would be no hiding my childlike body in those clothes.


    Can I really go out and face people in something like that?


    It did not help that Meg kept on hovering with that stupid stick of hers. No amount of denying her could put her off the notion that she was going to tailor my clothes to fit. In any other situation, her behavior would have looked motherly, but right now her constant closeness was merely an endless reminder of my hunger.


    Every time she twisted and turned around me, my eyes shot to an exposed neck, arm, ¡­ any place with a pulsing artery. It was a constant provocation. She was taunting me. She was. My teeth ached so bad. If I chewed my lip any harder I¡¯d break the skin. The only thing keeping my hunger in check was the utter terror for how I was about to strip in front of her.


    In the end, I just got it over with as quick as I could. There was a small startle from Meg as I took off my gloves. Even if she¡¯d already seen my claws before, their sudden reappearance was still a surprise to her. She got a slightly larger shock when I stepped out of my still waterlogged boots and revealed equally horrifying talons on my feet.


    Finally, there was utter stupefaction when she saw me fully naked.


    ¡°Not. A. Word!¡± I cautioned her.


    A horrible blush colored my cheeks, despite my best attempts to suppress it. Too tired, too strained, too hungry, too terrified to maintain proper control of my face. My embarrassed blushing almost made me shut down my heart to be rid of it.


    Almost.


    If I did, instead of the ever so slight rosy paleness blood circulation gave my skin, I¡¯d be left with only paleness. I already looked deathly pale, bordering on anemic as it was. I wasn¡¯t about to make it even worse. Especially now that I was naked, nothing covering that blank, pale skin. It clashed horribly with my untamable, hip-length black tresses and bushy eyebrows,


    I tried to use my hands to cover the worst of how I looked, but that only served as a reminder that I had nothing worth covering, and only made me flush even pinker. At the same time, there was far too much that needed hiding. I was one gigantic, tiny, gangly, bean sprout of a little girl, all bone and sinew, little muscle, and no fat.


    And then there was the wrongness. I looked perfectly human, and yet uncannily not. Limbs just that tiny bit out of proportion, muscles attached ever so slightly different, mouth a little too wide, jaw a bit too far forward, and a gaze a little too intense, it gave everyone who looked at me naked an unnerving feeling of wrongness, of inhumanity, without them ever being able to pinpoint where the problem laid.


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    And even though I couldn¡¯t see it, I just knew that my horrifying body would only serve to accentuate my sickeningly cute and puffy cheeks. When I¡¯d left my dad a year ago he¡¯d told me I had the physique of a ten-year-old. Now, maybe ten and a half. Eleven was going to be a stretch. I wanted to look eleven. But I had seen Shae, I had a perfect reference for eleven, I was a long way away from eleven.


    ¡®m 24.


    ¡®m not a kid. ¡®m all grown up and 24, no matter how I look.


    Getting myself to look even passably adult was a lot of work. No matter how hard I tried, there was always someone for whom all my hard work was not enough. I had to fight for everything, every scrap of dignity, every ounce of respect.


    Yes, I¡¯m old enough to be here.


    Yes, I¡¯m old enough to drink that.


    Yes, I¡¯m old enough to hold that blade.


    Old enough to work. Old enough to fight. Old enough to kick your ass.


    I was old enough for everything. I was never old enough. I could see it in their eyes, their judgemental looks everywhere I went. I was so damn tired of fighting this damned fight and yet I could not ever stop doing so for even one single second.


    No, I do not need my parents, you ass!


    I had never dressed so fast in my life. The small shirt Meg had given me came all the way to my knees. The legs of the trousers pooled around my feet. And every second I could see Meg.


    Staring.


    Judging.


    I saw her glancing back to the doorway her family had disappeared to. It was where they kept their clothes, I was sure of it. I could imagine all of what she was thinking, how she was mentally going through all she had for her maybe eight year old daughter, and if there was anything she could use for me.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it,¡± I admonished her before she could voice anything of the sort.


    I commandeered some rope and pieces of cloth from her, and some very clever folding and tucking tricks later I no longer looked like a toddler trying on mommy¡¯s clothes. I looked passable. Remotely passable. I wiped the smug grin of satisfaction off my face before it could fully form.


    Finally, I picked up the new pair of shoes Meg had selected for me. They were, to put it nicely, utter shit. This town did not even have a cobbler, so that was to be expected, I guess. At least they were dry. That was much more than could be said about my old pair. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d ever be able to get those dry again.


    Meg gave me a really funny look when I first transferred the leather strips, and then the wedges, from my old shoes to the new ones. She had the decency not to ask, so I didn¡¯t answer. The former was to make shoes last just that tiny bit longer in the face of the nearly two inches worth of claws on my toes. The latter¡­


    Every inch of height counts, even if I have to cheat for it!


    In the end, I think that Meg was at least a little bit impressed at my ability to turn ill-fitting clothes and a ten-year-old frame into something that looked decidedly more¡­ maybe not adult, but at least presentable. That¡¯s what I chose to interpret her small nod of approval for anyway.


    My hair was definitely a problem now that I had on clean clothes, so I decided to take another stab at it. I asked Meg for a mirror. What I got was¡­ terrible¡­ but leagues better than my sword. Raking my claws through the tangled, sticky mess that my hair had become, meant pulling out the occasional strand of hair.


    I supposed I could have been more careful, but I wanted to get this over with. Hair regrows and the pain of pulling it out was nothing compared to the hunger. Me pulling hair out by the handful distressed Meg greatly though. When she saw that, she could no longer restrain herself. She needed to help out.  I had to forcibly bat her away several times. I absolutely did not want her figuring out that the sticky, goopy, ropy stuff tangled in my hair were parts of my brains that had leaked out.


    After a third forceful refusal of her help, Meg offered me water and soap to help clean out my hair. It was a much more agreeable offer than her helping directly. I still declined, hastily braided my hair into shape. I really was leaving now. Not a second more of this stalling.


    When I was ready Gery and the two kids came to see me off. The little mushroom-gremlin girl gave me a parting ¡°Do you eat babies?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but only¡ª¡± I quipped, hastily snapping my mouth shut the second I realized what was coming out of it.


    I did not just try to joke about eating children.


    Didn¡¯t.


    Aaaah¡­ this town is getting to me. I need to leave.


    Mmmm¡­ eating¡­ food.


    Hunger!


    I groaned and walked out the door without looking back. I had nearly managed a couple of minutes without thinking of drinking someone dry, and the little shit had ruined it. I wanted to bury my head in my shoulders. I wanted to walk and keep on walking. Unfortunately, Fern was barely five paces out from the door and I needed to dump my old clothes on her back.

 1.24 — Pretend Magicked

    Still fuming I speed marched my way to the smithy. It wasn¡¯t speedy. Or much of a march. I lacked the coordination for a brisk and angry pace in this sun, especially with how drained I was. I was hungry. And tired. And hungry. And thoroughly, utterly fed up with this town¡¯s bullshit. I needed out. I needed food. I needed both yesterday.


    Instead of getting what I wanted I had to go and visit Uncle Tare. Because his wife wanted to thank me. Because this bloody place would not let me leave. Because even half-starved I was too much of a nice person to just walk away. But most of all because I had forgotten some of my medical supplies at his place.


    When I got there the door of the house looked vaguely different. There was also no smithy adjacent to the building.


    Right.


    I cast an accusatory glare at the sun, then eyed the vague blob that was the building on the right. It felt equally as much the wrong building as this one, too far from the water. I was still convinced it was on this side of the street. That meant my destination had to be the dwelling on the left.


    I tasted the air to confirm my suspicion. The stink of sickness came from the left. I set out once more. Still being mostly blind in this sunlight, I could not tell how many people had seen my mishap. In case someone had, I mentally willed them to move along and ignore what they just saw.


    Nothing to see here. Vale is not blind.


    Gery and Meg see this?


    Please, please, please, let them have closed their door already¡­


    At least the quality of the light was slowly changing, indicating we were getting much closer to sunset. Night couldn¡¯t come soon enough. Days were miserable enough when I was well fed.


    Still worrying and overthinking in the sun.


    At least some things never change.


    The house on the left turned out to be the correct one. I knocked. A gust of dried leaves preceded the appearance of Uncle Tare¡¯s wife at the door. She held a bowl containing some kind of food sludge in hand. My hunger stirred once more.


    Food. Everywhere.


    They doing this on purpose?


    I eyed the vague location of her neck. Face. Chewed my lips in a desperate attempt at distraction. The Pickles-woman burst out in a stream of gibberish that was probably understandable as words if only I could get her to slow down.  The blubbery happiness in her tone, and her wild gesturing from me to the inside of her home, made it comprehensible anyway.


    In between the overly excited avalanche of words I also caught at least three instances of Child. I ignored them. Complaining would only make this take even longer.


    ¡°Yes, I came to check up on your husband,¡± I blurted out the first chance I got.


    And my gear. Only my gear.


    She rushed inside, deposited her bowl on their little table, rushed back out, and almost forcibly pulled me inside by my hands. I extricated myself from her grip much sooner than was probably socially acceptable, but my hands were mine, and I was sick of everyone claiming them for themselves.


    So should start claiming people¡¯s necks, see what that does?


    I viciously chewed my lip. That thought was the hunger talking and I was absolutely at the end of my tether. I needed more than nervous chewing to take my mind off food. In an attempt at distracting myself, I tried to recall the woman¡¯s name. I was certain I had heard it somewhere, but now all I could come up with was that her blood probably tasted like pickled dried leaves.


    Right. Distraction failed.


    I chewed even harder, was ushered into the bedroom under more muttered banalities, and was forcefully deposited next to the bed. The man in it was, maybe not exactly conscious, but at least awake. He looked leagues better than how I had found him last night, so much healthier, more appetizing.


    I scrunched up my face, trying to keep my thoughts on track, trying to reclaim at least a fragment of my attention. I needed that sliver of focus to check up on the man, so that I could pretend to compare his current state with how I¡¯d left him in the morning. Yes, pretend to compare. Doing more than pretending was pointless as I had been far too out of it this morning to trust my recollections of back then.


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    And more than anything, I needed to focus on locating my medical supplies. My eyes roved over every little nook and cranny. Eventually, I spotted the bag on the ground, near a corner of the bed. I collected it and then the wife looked at me expectantly.


    My gaze drifted from her neck to her hands. She had fetched the bowl and was attempting to feed the slop to her husband, one spoonful at a time. I swallowed. It was the hunger, nothing more than the hunger. It made me focus on every single food-related thing in my surroundings. There was no giant food conspiracy. It was only the hunger.


    ¡°He¡¯s better right?¡± the wife asked me. ¡°He¡¯s fine now?¡±


    There was such expectation in her eyes, as if there was only one answer that could be given to her questions. I wanted to hurl insults at her, tell her that this was not how it worked, that humans were fragile and that he could die at any minute.


    ¡°He is fine,¡± I told her while casting a glance at the exit. He could develop a secondary infection, there could have been something we missed while treating him, or there might have been something we did wrong that would only manifest later tonight or tomorrow. He could look fine now and be dead the next instant, but I told her he was fine without even looking.


    She blinked at me in confusion.


    Glossing over this too fast?


    Making it too apparent that I want out?


    ¡°Let me do a quick check,¡± I relented. Reya probably fussed all over her patients yet I had barely spared the man a glance.


    I moved over to the other side of the bed and crouched down, put a hand on the man¡¯s chest in a show of theatrics, and closed my eyes to focus my senses. His breathing was steady, heartbeat strong and stable, the oily feel of his blood was less murky, warmer, so much more edible.


    Down. Down. Down.


    Not food.


    I bit a hole in my lip and drank greedily. Warm, sweet nectar slid down my throat. It was only a placebo, Metzus blood no replacement for Atlus. I knew that. Regardless, it was preventing me from sinking my fangs into something I would later regret.


    I opened my eyes and tried to keep the hunger from showing on my face. ¡°Fine. He is fine,¡± I breathed, eyeing his neck.


    Feel free to think I magicked that or something.


    So much hunger. Need to leave.


    Can¡¯t keep this up much longer.


    ¡°He is perfectly fine.¡± I patted the man¡¯s arm and got up. ¡°I will let Reya check up on the bandages. That is more her thing.¡±


    Uncle Tare tried to focus his eyes on me, moved his lips as if to say something. I didn¡¯t wait for it, wrenched my eyes away from his artery.


    Need to leave. Leave. Leave!


    The wife let me out under more muttered banalities, a ¡°Could you please come and check again in the morning?¡± and a lot of ¡°Oh thank you so very much!¡±


    Yes, yes, yes, I lied. I¡¯d check up on him as much as you¡¯d like. I¡¯d tell you every lie you wanted to hear. Just let me leave this accursed town behind for good. Then I was finally out the door. I was free to leave.


    The sun wasn¡¯t entirely gone yet, slowly searing me alive as it always did. The Pickled-dried-leaves had not yet closed the door behind me either. Instead, she was looking to the left, from where a spicy, zesty, lightly peppered meal was coming our way.


    ¡°You okay if I borrow Vale for a bit, Suri?¡± the approaching Pepper-blood not quite asked the wife. ¡°I¡¯ll come and take a look right after.¡±


    Right. Of course. Of course they¡¯re not done with me.


    Reya tasted like a strange mix of worry, and pity, and anger, and all-out meddlesome interruption. With great reluctance, I forced my rising temper down. It wasn¡¯t their fault. They weren¡¯t deliberately doing this to spite me. They were worried. That was it. Worried. With this new outfit all they saw was a lonely, weak, and vulnerable little girl in need of protection.


    Everything I¡¯d done for them before was irrelevant because now the immediate threat was gone and so all they saw was a little, eleven year old girl, pretending to be an adult. It didn¡¯t matter that I was 24. It no longer mattered what I did or how hard I tried. Somehow they¡¯d even forgotten they¡¯d accused me of being a vampire just yesterday night. I was always and forever the cute little girl.


    ¡°No, you may not borrow me,¡± I hissed at Reya as I lurched past her on the way to my horse. I didn¡¯t care if the wife heard. I didn¡¯t care if anyone heard. I was leaving.


    ¡°Haha, small misunderstanding. Be right back,¡± Reya grinned at Suri in an overly chipper tone. I had my back turned to her, yet with her fake cheer, I could easily picture her smiling and waving at the wife.


    Nothing good could come from a bubbly Reya. Desperate to get away, I hurried. I was already on my horse by the time she joined up with me. Ignoring her, I directed Fern towards the treeline. It was near dusk so she wouldn¡¯t follow me in there, I hoped. I pushed my horse to a short gallop so I¡¯d get to the trees faster, and so that she wouldn¡¯t be able to keep up.


    Reya speed-walked after me, right into the forest anyway. ¡°I thought we were going to have a chat before you left, Vale?¡± she shouted at my back.


    I never agreed to that.


    She kept following me, would not give up. I was, however, gaining distance from her. I would be out of sight and earshot soon, and then she wouldn¡¯t be able to follow any longer.


    And then she¡¯d be alone in a dark forest, at dusk, last seen with the vampire.


    Same as with Gery last night.


    No matter how much I tried to tell myself that was her problem, not mine, it did not stick. The chance of something happening to her out here was ridiculously small. But if something did happen, then I¡¯d be blamed for it. People knowing about me brought so many problems I hadn¡¯t even expected. It was driving me almost as mad as the hunger.


    ¡°Are you running away, Vale?¡± I could still hear the teasing in her now far-off voice.


    She know the kind of game she¡¯s playing?


    Her tone now, and even her tone yesterday when she told me were going to have a talk, hinted to me that maybe she did know. It suggested that her following me into a dark forest at dusk, all alone, might be a deliberate, premeditated act. If that were true, then maybe this woman was more dangerous to me than Limn or Onar.


    I couldn¡¯t allow for that kind of unknown, so I held in the reins, allowed her to catch up.

 1.25 — Small Town Predators

    Reya adjusted the dagger on her belt and dusted off her clothes before sitting down on the ground. Most people would do it after, but well, fine. I regarded her antics from atop Fern and hoped she would just get to the point.


    ¡°Come, sit.¡± She patted the ground next to her. ¡°It¡¯s not comfortable talking to you like this.¡±


    ¡°I am hungry and you are keeping me from my hunt. I think I shall stay up here. Much safer for you,¡± I told her with a wry smirk. Those weren¡¯t the real reasons I wasn¡¯t coming down from my horse. She really was trying for something. I could play that game better than anyone. Height advantage. Position of authority.


    ¡°What? You¡¯d attack me? Drink my blood?¡± She laughed. ¡°Girl, I admit I was scared before, but I¡¯ve had all day to think about this. You magicked your brain right out last night and even then barely did a thing. Give yourself some more credit.¡±


    Really, if that¡¯s how you think this works, then enjoy your misconceptions.


    ¡°Right. Just, get to the point already.¡± I rolled my eyes at her, made her think she amused me. With some luck, it would make her lower her guard even more.


    ¡°Okay, okay¡­ I still don¡¯t know where to start with this¡­ how to broach this to you¡­¡± she meandered from apology to apology, uncertainty apparent in both her posture and her scent. ¡°It¡¯s been a long night and I haven¡¯t had a lot of sleep¡­¡±


    I was not going to indulge her stalling. ¡°The point, Reya.¡± I pressed her with a gentle smile, applying enough pressure to keep control of the conversation, but with sufficient sympathy to make her think I cared.


    ¡°Ugh!¡± She sighed, delayed some more by glancing around as the air around her grew heavier with worry. Eventually, she pushed it out. ¡°Gery never lies, Vale.¡±


    Ah, that then.


    This was¡­ surprisingly a far easier subject than I had anticipated. I was ready for her to beg me to stay just like Meg. I had even expected her to maybe lash out at me for the brain thing, or the way I¡¯d used Meg, or maybe even something worse I didn¡¯t even remember. But Gery¡¯s little lie, the thing that had initially made Reya wary of me, I had nothing to do with that.


    ¡°You think I made him lie to you?¡± I blurted out in perfectly acted fright, leaning on my childish appearance for added effect. ¡°You think I thralled him?¡±


    Of course I didn¡¯t believe she thought that. Following a vampire you suspected of enthralling someone into a dark forest¡­ Reya wasn¡¯t the kind of person to do that. Never mind that enthralling someone didn¡¯t even work like that. It was a perfect opportunity for me to paint myself as a victim of her prejudices though. I was not going to pass it up.


    ¡°Haha, no,¡± she tittered with a disarming smile, trying to calm down the scared little vampire girl. Just like I expected, my actions resulted in an attempt from the town healer to make me feel at ease,  even while she herself still reeked of fear, uncertainty, and anger. She had walked right into that. This was almost too easy. Even Onar had been more of a challenge than this woman.


    ¡°I¡¯m not responsible for other people¡¯s lies, Reya,¡± I explained, deflecting even more blame. I shook my head for good measure, pretending to be put out at Gery¡¯s shameless lying.


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡± She sighed as the fear and uncertainty in her flavor turned to cold determination. Then her mellow expression turned into a sudden angry sneer. ¡°But you did back up his lies without even batting an eye!¡±


    Wait? What?


    ¡°I¡­ I was scared okay?¡± I startled, quickly twisting my own shock and surprise into an appropriate cowed-and-scared vampire girl response.


    This had been way off the mark for expected responses from her. That happened sometimes. People were hard to predict. I adapted, playing different angles until I found one that worked. Only I still didn¡¯t know her game, didn¡¯t know what she was getting at. And that sudden sneer of her was unnerving, almost as if she was baiting me.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she spoke gently, sighed once more, and shook her head. ¡°We were all scared back then.¡±


    I only barely refrained from narrowing my eyes at her. Her scent no longer matched her words. Not at all. She really was trying to manipulate me, and she was not acting out of misguided kindheartedness like the other villagers had done earlier. This was deliberate, premeditated, designed to steer me towards certain actions and reactions. I did not like this woman. It had been wrong to stop for her.


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    She really think she can play me like this?


    ¡°It¡¯s all about trust, isn¡¯t it, Vale,¡± she mused. ¡°You didn¡¯t trust us and some of us didn¡¯t trust you.¡±


    Stop repeating my name. That way to instill trust doesn¡¯t work against people that know you¡¯re doing it.


    ¡°But trust is a funny thing, you know?¡± she continued. ¡°I trust you enough to sit here with you, alone in the forest. With a suspected vampire. Why? Because you¡¯re just that nice? No. It¡¯s because you want to be liked and trusted, enough to drive you to almost kill yourself in an attempt to get that trust.¡±


    Getting this sudden unexpected validation was nice. It was heartwarming, which was probably her entire intention. That¡¯s why it didn¡¯t work on me. Somewhere along the way, this entire conversation had gotten twisted. I was no longer playing her. She was attempting to play me. It was a novel kind of experience, so I decided to indulge her a little longer, to see where this would lead.


    ¡°That¡¯s why a lot of people want you to stay Vale. Because they can see how utterly broken you are, because you¡¯ve done so much for us, saving Uncle Tare, killing those monsters, not to mention all you did for us last winter. People want to do something in return, even if you might be a monster.¡±


    Was that why everyone had been so nice to me? Because I was broken? Had I truly shown so much of myself to these people? Had I messed things up that badly?


    This was her point then. The problem was, her machinations were getting to me. It was time to put this conversation back on track, before she could unbalance me.


    ¡°You can stop now. I know what you¡¯re trying to do, and it¡¯s not working,¡± I scoffed. ¡°And purely for the record, those ahuizotl I killed technically aren¡¯t monsters. They¡¯re actually hybrids, partially Atlus based.¡± I threw in that last bit to catch her off-guard. It was irrelevant information, completely of track from where she was going. ¡°You can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Random topic changes? Really? This is exactly why I don¡¯t want you to stay, Vale,¡± she interrupted me with a grin. ¡°I don¡¯t trust you, not as a person anyway.¡±


    Really? You¡¯re complaining about topic changes by changing the topic?


    ¡°You are indeed broken, Vale. Just as easily as you hurt yourself, you lie and you manipulate other people, hurting them in turn. If you want to hurt yourself, that¡¯s your business and you do it on your own time. But toying with other people in this town, just to get your way, that I will not tolerate,¡± Reya lectured.


    ¡°Haaha!¡± I laughed a fake laugh, mouth open, and fangs on display for her to see. ¡°The only one here being manipulative is you, Reya.¡± I was past not liking this bitch now. She wanted to get me riled up. Fine. She¡¯d see me riled up.


    ¡°It¡¯s not so fun, is it, Vale? Being lied to, being manipulated so casually?¡± Reya broke in once more. ¡°This is a small town, Vale, a very small town. It doesn¡¯t take long for people to figure out you¡¯re being dishonest in a community as closely knit as this.¡±


    She just will not let up, will she?


    ¡°Get to your point, Reya,¡± I sneered at her, and began counting of all the conflicting viewpoints she¡¯d expressed on my fingers. ¡°You want me to stay, you don¡¯t want me to stay, you¡¯re accusing me of being manipulative while being manipulative yourself. Your lecturing is all over the place, going nowhere, and pissing me off in the process!¡± I snarled the last bit at her, quivering in rage.


    ¡°Finally caught you off balance, didn¡¯t I?¡± She grinned at me, letting my anger wash over her as if it was nothing. That only pissed me off even more. ¡°You messed with Meg! She¡¯s the nicest sarding person in this entire town. You saved her life last winter. She¡¯d do anything for you in return. And what do you ask of her Vale? Please sit here and watch while I shit my intestines out of my ass?¡±


    I¡­ what?


    She saw that?


    I hid that!


    She couldn¡¯t have known!


    ¡°She didn¡¯t faint, Vale. She refused to leave so I had to drug her just so your self-mutilation wouldn¡¯t scar her for life. That¡¯s the only reason she can still look at you right now. Because I shielded her from what you were doing.¡±


    Not going to work. I had told her she could leave. Her staying was her choice and her choice alone.


    ¡°Right. Nice try. We¡¯re done,¡±  I smiled amiably, then gave her a little wink as I nudged Fern into motion. ¡°Don¡¯t follow me. I¡¯m not responsible for what happens if you do.¡±


    ¡°Ah, running away then, that¡¯s your solution to everything isn¡¯t it,¡± she crowed at my back. ¡°But you don¡¯t want to leave, do you. Not now that you¡¯ve found people that might accept you as you are. A tiny little part of you wants to try it, wants to stay.¡±


    I ignored her ranting. Her words were like water, flowing of me without a care. They could not reach me, could not hurt me. They were not like water smashing into a dike, ready to burst. They were not.


    Not!


    ¡°We¡¯d let you, you know. But you¡¯d be kicked out just as fast, Vale. Not because you¡¯re a dangerous monster, but because you¡¯re a lying, manipulative bitch.¡±


    I continued riding. Out of sight now, almost out of earshot. Reya¡¯s last shouted words were becoming barely more than a distant whisper in between the dense trees.


    ¡°Consider this a favor, Vale. You¡¯ve got a simple choice, really. Come back and clean up your act, or get lost. Think on it. Let me know your answer when you¡¯re ready. But trust me, if you come back and lie one more time, then I¡¯m reporting your ass to the Inquisition myself.¡±


    I strained my ears even as I kept pushing Fern forward. No more words followed. Blissful silence. Alone at last, away from that accursed town.


    Bye Reya. The real bitch here was you, by the way.

 1.26 — Without Tears of Frustration

    Fuming, I picked up the bolt that was lodged in the dirt.  This had been my third miss now. My third gods-be-damned miss. I was hungry, I was tired, I was fed up with everything, and the food just would¡­ Not¡­ Do¡­ As it were told!


    Seriously! Just don¡¯t dodge! How hard can that be?


    Or when you do then at least dodge in the direction of the bolt, you stupid foxes!


    Or maybe learn to aim, Vale?


    ¡°Raaaagh!¡± I screamed and slammed my head into the nearest tree trunk. Now I was even beginning to hear my own thoughts in Reya¡¯s grating, condescending voice.


    Yes, Vale.


    You¡¯re pathetic,Vale!


    Trust, Vale!


    That stupid bitch, she had gotten to me. She really had.


    And now my fuming and screaming is chasing off the wildlife.


    I stomped the ground in frustration, barely checked myself from throwing the crossbow to the ground. Fern observed my incompetent rage with utter passivity.


    Why don¡¯t you do it, hunt a fox, if you¡¯re so much better than me, I glared at my horse.


    She shook her head and whinnied as if to say, I eat grass and hay, you Silly Bean.


    Great, now even my horse is calling me a runt.


    Temper, Vale!


    ¡°Get out of my head!¡± I shouted into the night. Somewhere in the distance a lone creature I had not yet managed to scare away scurried off.


    I can¡¯t, Vale.


    I¡¯m only doing you a favor, Vale.


    I leaned back against the tree I had been abusing and let my weary body sink to the ground. The second my ass hit the dirt I recalled the image of Reya patting down her rear before she sat down. How pathetic. Even sitting down I could no longer do without Reya¡¯s taunts haunting my thought.


    I huffed, laid down the crossbow, and wrung the frustration out of my hair. I had to get my act together, catch myself something I could drink dry, and get some serious distance between me and Birnstead. Maybe I even needed to spare some attention for Fern, because I did not know if anyone in Birnstead had taken care of her in any way besides stable her for the night.


    Has she even been fed?


    And I needed to do all of that, preferably before sunrise, before I did something drastic, like returning to Birnstead simply to sink my fangs into Reya¡¯s neck.


    Give yourself some more credit, Vale.


    It wasn¡¯t my fault. It had been the hunger. I had been so distracted by the hunger that she had been able to play me. The hunger always made me lose focus, made me slip up in small and insignificant ways.


    Except I was lying to myself. The first part of my exchange with her, when I had thought I was in control, had been so exhilarating that I hadn¡¯t thought about the hunger at all. I hadn¡¯t thought about hunger, or food, or eating a single time. Not even all the way at the start, when I had told her it was safer for her if I remained on Fern.


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    She had manipulated me, made me lie, right from the start. And then to think that I¡¯d come here to get away from the lies. This was her fault, all her fault. I should never have saved Uncle Tare, should never have gone back for the ahuizotl, should never have returned here in the first place.


    And so in a way it was also a little bit my fault. I had been so stupid, letting myself get baited by that longing. There were no happy places for me. Not ever. I had let down my guard, and now I was paying the price.


    The worst part of it all was that I still did not know what she had been trying to achieve.


    Reya convincing me that I could stay with them?


    The very notion was absurd. Meg and Gery, maybe they would have accepted me. Shae, I did not know, she wasn¡¯t anything like the little girl I remembered. The wife, she had been so relieved and thankful, also a maybe. I had promised her I would check up on Uncle Tare in the morning. It was yet another lie they had forced out of me.


    Everyone else in that village, I would not trust them as far as I could spit, let alone with my life.


    Reya telling me to get lost and stay lost?


    Completely redundant. Onar and Limn had made it abundantly clear that I was not welcome. The only thing Reya had added to that was a warning that she¡¯d report me to the Inquisition. But wasn¡¯t that always a given? Spot monster, report monster. Especially a vampire. Doubly so for a vampire. I wasn¡¯t even anything like a vampire!


    Reya asking me to stop lying and deceiving people?


    Ridiculous. She thought I did this for fun? I lied to survive. I lied for the simple right to live just like everyone else. I lied for every breath that I took. I lied with every breath that I took. Didn¡¯t she see that I was trying to get away from that?


    I hadn¡¯t ever lied in Birnstead. Except that once, at the end. Sorry Suri. But that was it, only that once, and it hadn¡¯t been intentional. Only ever that one lie. And maybe joining in on Gery¡¯s lie, but that wasn¡¯t my own lie. Telling that woman from the bunkhouse that I wasn¡¯t hungry wasn¡¯t a real lie. I couldn¡¯t have come out and told her that I needed blood instead of chicken broth. That would have been so much worse than a simple white lie.


    That was all.


    Those were the only lies.


    I took a heaving, shuddering breath. I wanted tears but they did not come.


    Those weren¡¯t all the lies.


    Oh gods, I¡¯d lied so much to all of them.


    I hugged my knees, lowered my head, and whimpered. I had lied to the people I cared about. I truly was a monster. The claws on my feet scraping against the inside of my shoes only served to remind me of that.  I reveled in the miserable feeling that reminding myself of those claws gave me, began toying with the claws on my hands in the same way I was toying with those on my toes.


    Eventually, the hooting of an owl pulled me out of my misery. I could not keep sitting here indefinitely. There was a lot I still needed to do if I wanted to be gone by dawn. Every second I tarried would only make the night shorter.


    A glance at my horse revealed that Fern was already asleep, having long given up on me. So I left her be and went to tend to my hunger. Calmer now, I managed to catch myself not just a fox, but a badger. Even that larger prey didn¡¯t provide much sustenance after how close to my limits I had been, but it would at least tide me over for a little while.


    Freedom of hunger brought me clarity. All those things Reya had told me, none of them mattered because I was leaving. What did I care if people from a village I would never return to thought ill of me? What did I care if there were three people instead of two that would report me to the Inquisition? After Ostea all they needed was one single credible report to investigate. The extra two were irrelevant.


    Why did I even care about being accepted by random strangers? If I wanted acceptance all I needed to do was head home, seek out my dad and Uncle Hadrian. Yes, that was exactly what I would do. A couple of weeks traversing the wilds to shake off pursuers, and then I¡¯d head straight home.


    Content with my resolve I settled down for a short break. I would let Fern rest for now, provide a normal daytime rhythm for my horse, and set out at dawn. But first, before I allowed myself a moment of peace, I pulled out my amulet and begun pouring Atlus into it. The runes had already been close to spent when I had stepped out of Uncle Tare¡¯s place last morning. Without recharging them now, going out into the sun once more might be my last mistake.

 1.27 — The Reya in Your Head

    I got up from my nest of roots and branches much later than I had planned, and with a lingering dream-like impression of Shae hugging me. I shoved the pesky memory aside and set to packing. Somehow, halfway through doing so, I ended up hugging Fern. Because¡­


    Hugs?


    Shae hugging both my leg and all of Fern¡¯s massive ass at the same time¡­


    Hugs!


    And so for once, I did not care that this hug-by-proxy was the closest I could ever get to the real thing. I simply hugged Fern and sobbed tearlessly into her flank.


    I could return home, as I had thought of doing what now seemed like ages ago. I would be accepted there, yet it would not be the same as it had been with Shae. My home was not a hugging home, with my dad always presenting himself as the stoic hunter, and my mom¡­ well¡­ yes.


    Those two hugs by Shae¡­ they had been the first I¡¯d had in a very long time. Until then I hadn¡¯t even known. Now it was an absence, a hole I would never be able to fill by returning home. It wasn¡¯t even that my place lacked love. My dad loved me, would probably die for me a million times over. It was just that, despite how much my dad ranted on about feelings, the warmth and the openness I had felt from Shae wasn¡¯t there. We clashed. Somehow we always clashed. And if he could, he would lock me up inside in a desperate bid to keep me safe¡­


    Only Uncle Hadrian had ever come close to hugging me quite like Shae had, and he only visited maybe once a year. No one had ever fussed over me quite so motherly as Meg. I wanted that, the warmth, the sense of belonging. It wasn¡¯t mine to take, but I wanted it anyway.


    Not that I ever see myself capable of reciprocating in kind.


    Not that they would ever accept me back.


    Right. This again. Somehow I had reasoned myself right back to the same stupid notion I was so desperately trying to get away from. Why did I keep doing this? Why was leaving so hard? There was no future for me here, no path where returning to Birnstead did not end with my death.


    But what if there is?


    Reya had said that they would accept me. It was such an obvious lie. Onar did not accept me. Limn hadn¡¯t either. Neither would Reya. All it took was one person reporting me, and there were three of those here.


    Yet Shae had hugged me, Meg had fussed, the wife had begged and thanked in equal measure, even the woman from the bunkhouse had offered me food as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Why? Some of them knew what I was, and the others must have at least suspected.


    So why have they done all that for me?


    Why does it chafe so much that I lied to some of them when it was oh so apparent that their fellow villagers, their own friends, wanted me dead?


    I had to stop doing this. They had feared me, threatened me, as anyone would. I had lied, as anyone cornered would. There was nothing I could do about any of those things. It was how the world worked for things like me. In the end, it remained as simple as it had always been. I had to leave.


    I got on Fern, and I rode.


    Yet¡­ one lie that I can still fix¡­


    <hr>


    Clinging to Fern I walked out from between the trees with an outwardly confidence that I absolutely did not feel. The anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach that had started the second I had resolved to this course of action got even worse now that I had left the forest¡¯s protective darkness.


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    Exposure to the summer rays left me weak and miserable as always. On top of that I now also felt exposed. At least my daylight blindness was a mercy this time. Not being able to see hopefully meant I would not be fretting so much about the shocked reactions that my sudden reappearance caused.


    I had chosen this spot in between Gery¡¯s place and the bunkhouse to exit the forest. A lot of the villagers appeared to work at the logging sites during the day, which meant fewer eyes focused on me over here. Or so I hoped. Being nearly blind meant guessing where people were more than anything. My nose and ears could have told me so much more if I¡¯d let them, but¡­


    Give yourself some more credit, Vale.


    Right. It seemed that every little piece of doubt or self-admonishment now popped in my head with an unhealthy dose of Reya-ness. I needed to get rid of that. Fast. Mind-Reya had a point though. I tended to run away from myself a little too much. I had eaten, it should be fine. I psyched myself up by bouncing on my toes a couple of times.


    I could do this slow or fast. If I let my senses seep out at a trickle then I could easily rein them in again. On the other hand¡­ my resolve could falter if I went too slow. Before I could change my mind I let go of the iron grip I usually kept on my senses. The delicate aroma of the various meals lingering around town tickled my nose. It was like taking a deep breath of fresh air and suddenly being reminded you stood in the middle of the food market.


    For a moment the sinking feeling in my guts intensified. This sudden craving told me this had been a bad idea. I was supposed to be thinking of these people as human beings, not as delicacies on a food market. This wasn¡¯t even the first time I had tried this. I had known this would be the outcome, and for some reason I¡¯d gone through with it anyway.


    Did I really think things were going to be different this time?


    Cravings are fine, Vale. Just don¡¯t act on them, Vale.


    Right. Not at all convincing. But¡­ true? I had enough self-control to not indulge in these desires. In a way, this wasn¡¯t anywhere near as bad as yesterday¡¯s hunger. I could manage. I could. This body was mine. I was in control of the body, was using the body to help me, instead of letting it guide my actions.


    Even with that resolve, my new awareness of the people in town, some of which I did not know, brought fresh worries. What if one of these unknown scents was the doctor or the hunter they had sent for? What if someone took offense at my sudden reappearance? Exposing myself like this limited the control I had over the outcome of my actions. It placed me at other people¡¯s mercy. It was such an unnerving feeling that it almost made me turn back right there.


    I strangled my unfounded worries, or at least tried to. No matter how much logic I applied, my ingrained self-preservation instincts took offense at even the tiniest chance I would be exposed to risk. Trying to not worry only made it worse. Yet most of my worries were absurd. Especially considering that comparatively, I hadn¡¯t worried anywhere near enough when I came back here originally.


    Why do I have to be so hung up on the risk now?


    Is it because I have more to lose now?


    Only this. I¡¯ll do only this. Just fix this one lie and then I¡¯ll be gone.


    No. Not more lies. I was doing it again. Even when merely trying to get my doubts under control I was lying.


    Does lying really come this easy for me?


    Aaaah¡­ Just fix this one lie, then see where things lead.


    None of my unsettlingly circling thoughts were helping me, so I channeled them by stumbling forward a little faster. At least the center of town was empty right now, just the loggers near the river to the left of me, and some people working in fields to the right. If no one looked outside their window as I crossed the street most people wouldn¡¯t even know I was here. Then the faster I could get this over with, the faster¡­


    I can leave?


    The dismay sloshing around in my stomach made me wonder if I had unintendedly forced my digestive system into action again. I had not. Last night I had lost focus on keeping my organs going somewhere along the way. All I was simulating now were my heart and my lungs.


    Technically those were yet another lie, yet they were a lie I wasn¡¯t willing to give up. Not ever. For that, yesterday with Meg was too much of a stark reminder of¡­ shortness. Bodies grow with age. Mine would only age if it wasn¡¯t¡­ dead.


    My hurried steps had brought me up to Uncle Tare¡¯s place. My hand hovered over the door, hesitating. I attempted to reassure myself one final time. It didn¡¯t matter what other people thought or did, only that I knew I was doing the right thing. It didn¡¯t matter if the hunter or the doctor they had sent for was already here. If they were I¡¯d bullshit my way through, as I had always done.


    I rapped the door, hoped that the wife would answer, and would still let me in.

 1.28 — On Keeping Your Face in Check

    As I stood in front of the door, the cold caress of a northern wind brought welcome relief from several days of searing heat. Despite that, waiting for the wife to open the door was agonizing, especially now that with my senses open I was so intimately aware of everything happening in this village.


    Two squirrels chased each other across the street, chittering at each other. An oriole flitted overhead. A creak sounded, the back door of the house to the right of me opened, then a man exited through it, thankfully far enough away from me that he wouldn¡¯t be able to spot me.


    All of it was far too idyllic, from the carefree animals, over the gentle murmur of conversation accentuating the sawing and chopping happening near the river, to the occasional spot of childish laughter far to the right from me.


    The texture, the aroma, everything in this town had such an air of normalcy now, as if the ahuizotl and the vampire and the nearly dead man in the house in front of me weren¡¯t things that had happened barely two days ago. It was all so peaceful that when the wife opened the door it startled me. No one noticed. I was in control, hiding all emotion and reaction behind a perfectly acted layer of polite passivity. Pickled-dried-leaves, the wife, sort of¡­ looked at me? A million new what-ifs I hadn¡¯t thought of until now haunted my thoughts.


    What if she realized how indifferent I had been yesterday?


    What if Reya told her?


    What if Uncle Tare is already dead?


    What if Reya is in there right now?


    Subconsciously I knew the answer to all of these irrational thoughts, yet I couldn¡¯t help wondering anyway. Two familiar heartbeats sang to me from inside the house, one inside the bed, the other standing right here in front of me. Uncle Tare wasn¡¯t dead. Reya wasn¡¯t in there. The Pickled-dried-leaves radiated surprise though, as if my presence here was the last thing she expected.


    Suri. Not pickled-dried-leaves.


    People have names. Use them, Vale.


    ¡°You requested I do another check-up in the morning?¡± I offered when Suri did not speak up, more to still my spiraling thoughts than anything. ¡°It is um¡­¡± I hesitated. I was going to say morning, but it was actually way past morning by now. ¡°I am¡­ not a morning person?¡±


    Yes, I was still every bit as bad at conversation as I had always been. Awkward. Embarrassing. And I still couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I might be walking straight into a trap. Regardless, I was doing this. No backing down. I would prove that I was a decent human being.


    Um¡­ decent monster?


    At first, there was no reaction. Then Suri gave me a quiet ¡°¡­oh?¡±.


    She really had not expected me. There was surprise and curiosity, a small frustrated huff of exhaled air, but no fear or judgment. Reya hadn¡¯t told her anything then. Her not instantly dragging me inside was different though. Perhaps a clear indication that her husband was fine and did not need me checking up on him.


    ¡°I¡­ um¡­ Reya already checked up on him, did  she not?¡± I bit my lip and looked down at Suri¡¯s feet.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± she mumbled, hesitated for another second, then followed it up with her usual avalanche of words. ¡°No, No no. It¡¯s just¡­ you looked like you were having an argument yesterday and then you both stormed off and only Reya came back and I thought that, well, you know, and¡­ and¡­ I¡¯m poking my nose in and it¡¯s totally not my business but I¡¯m just so grateful you know, without the both¡ª¡±


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    Suri broke off mid-sentence, did something with her face I couldn¡¯t see because of the sun, then looked down.


    ¡°I¡¯m rambling again,¡± the embarrassed wife admonished herself, then continued. ¡°No, Reya¡¯s checked the bandages yesterday, and popped in real quick this morning. It¡­ it wouldn¡¯t hurt for you to check again, would it?¡±


    Yes, Reya checking up on him every morning and evening told me that I wasn¡¯t really needed. Yet Suri¡¯s sudden shift in tone at the end, from demure to hopeful, kept me from finding a way to leave. It told me that she still worried, despite the frequent checks by Reya.


    I reassured the worried woman with a gentle smile. ¡°Never hurts to be too careful.¡±


    With the strained banalities out of the way, I was once again led into the couple¡¯s bedroom. Uncle Tare was asleep, and obviously in pain. I tasted the air and glanced around the room, wondering if Reya was giving him something to keep the pain under control, something that left him drowsy like this.


    Kneeling down next to the bed I tried to figure out how I was going to go about this. My actual medical knowledge probably paled in comparison to Reya¡¯s. I was fairly certain I was ahead of her in terms of emergency field medicine. Beyond that though, I compensated by using my senses as a crutch and brute-forcing things with magic.


    I knew how to amputate, I knew how to keep people alive, I knew far too many creative ways to kill people. Knowing how to properly monitor someone, check if their condition improved or worsened, day to day, hour to hour, all I could do with that was wing it by using my nose. Or brute force it with magic.


    Something leaking out of my ear.


    I was not looking forward to the magic route, so I started by focusing my senses on the man. With how little attention I had paid yesterday evening I wasn¡¯t certain if he was doing better or worse. I feared I had to lean towards worse though. It was more a general feeling that told me this, than any particular symptom.


    Maybe it was just my own worries leaking through into my early diagnosis. To be certain I only had one option. Magic. Wincing involuntarily I turned my senses inwards, towards my core. It was startlingly empty, a stark reminder of just how overboard I¡¯d gone on magic. It would be enough for some basic casting, a quick sensory weave, maybe even some minor healing, but not much more.


    A sensory weave would be far less taxing on me than the healing magic I¡¯d performed two nights ago. I probably wouldn¡¯t start leaking all over the place, but it would still hurt to the point where I wouldn¡¯t be able to keep the pain from showing on my face.


    I glanced up at Suri intent on warning her. She looked at me wide-eyed and was already wringing her hands. Even just thinking about casting magic I hadn¡¯t been able to keep my expression neutral.


    What¡¯s with me and this town that I can¡¯t keep my face under control?


    I wiped the worried grimace from my face and hastened to reassure her. ¡°He¡¯s fine. He¡¯s fine.¡±


    Lying again.


    ¡°There is something I need to look into though, so I am going to cast some magic to check,¡± I hastily amended. ¡°Reya may have told you this is a bit painful for me, so um¡­ don¡¯t worry if I start making these weird faces, okay? I will be fine.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s really fine, right?¡± Suri prompted me, leaning over the bed and grabbing hold of her husband¡¯s hand.


    I bit back another ¡°he¡¯s fine¡± before it could slip out. ¡°Merely making sure I am not missing anything.¡±


    The smile I gave her was acted, not lied. Not waiting for another reaction from Suri I placed my gloved hands on his chest, reached inside, weaved, layered, pulled the weave out, and spread it over the injured man¡¯s body. My casting could probably have been more efficient with direct skin contact, but far too many people in this town had seen my claws as it was. I was keeping my gloves on.


    I used the time I spent recovering from the burning pain of the Tonaltus use to go over what I¡¯d learned about the blacksmith¡¯s condition. There was something wrong with Uncle Tare all right, somewhere near the stump. I wasn¡¯t certain yet what it was, but it would probably need treatment.


    If only I could remember exactly what I¡¯d done after the amputation.


    I studied the man¡¯s legs, then glanced up at Suri, careful to keep the apprehension I felt from showing on my face. This was not something I felt up to handling alone. I would need to talk to Reya again, much sooner than I had intended to.

 1.29 — Distracted Terrorizing

    Casually informing an overly worried Suri that I was going to need Reya hadn¡¯t been very smart of me. It had simply slipped out, with me being more worried about needing to talk to that woman again than anything else. As a result, I ended up needing to reassure the amputated man¡¯s wife as well.


    All of my reassurances that Uncle Tare would be fine sounded flat, even to my own ears. I knew the statistics my father had taught me far too well. Even with magic, even when you made no mistakes, amputations were risky. It made me wonder if I had done the right thing, amputating the blacksmith¡¯s lower leg.


    I tried my best to calm down Suri anyway. When I finally got her to stop jumping to conclusions I had her provide me directions to Reya¡¯s place. Suri led me outside and pointed out the village healer¡¯s farm. It was visible even from the road in front of the blacksmith¡¯s place. Well, for her it was. I could barely make out her hand pointing me the way.


    I pretended to understand which building she was pointing at. Second farm on the right after exiting the town center, how difficult could it be. If I focused hard enough I could even pick up the vague scent of the town healer working in a field, along with two other people I did not know.


    I left Fern with Suri and set out. It felt stupid, idiotic, leaving my horse behind. I wouldn¡¯t be able to flee without her. After all, I couldn¡¯t leave a well-trained courser and all my gear behind. In a way, that was exactly why I did leave her there.


    Can¡¯t chicken out on this if it¡¯ll cost me my horse.


    To distract myself from my own worries I wondered about this tiny cluster of houses surrounding the bunkhouse, the town center, if this place was big enough to even have a town center. I never counted how many people lived here. But it could not have been much more than a couple dozen. A handful of houses and equally as many farms was all there was.


    While I plodded towards Reya¡¯s farm, uneven, occasionally bouncing steps sounded behind me. The footfalls, alternating between hesitation and speed, highlighted the uncertainty of the approaching man far more than the cautious edge to his crisp, winter-workout fragrance.


    I hastened my step ever so slightly, in an attempt to not let him get closer. I recognized this man¡¯s scent. He had been sitting at the same table as Limn in the bunkhouse. Worse, he was coming from the river, where he had been working along with Limn and the Tempered-steel woman. Really, nothing good could come from talking to him.


    ¡°Hey?¡± he called out the second he saw me accelerate.


    ¡°Um¡­ hey?¡± I responded, giving him the pretense of a wary look over my shoulder.


    ¡°Wait¡­ please?¡±  the man begged me.


    I suppressed a groan. Running away would not work. I was too unsteady on my feet during the day for that. It was better to just get this over with as fast as I could. I slowed my pace and snapped at him. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Can we talk?¡± he asked.


    Talk. Right. Another one of those things then. I stopped, turned around, crossed my arms, and glared up at him. I never missed Fern as much as when I needed to glare up at people. I should never have left my horse with Suri.


    When he did not immediately speak up I motioned with my hand for him to get on with it.


    ¡°Um¡­ right¡­ um¡­¡± the man stammered.


    This was not the belligerent attitude I was expecting. If anything this man was almost apologetic. I examined his scent. Scared, unsure, reluctant, meek almost. I wasn¡¯t entirely certain as I could not read his face, but at first glance he felt harmless enough.


    In fact, he was so lost this talk wouldn¡¯t get anywhere if I did not force what he wanted to say out of him. It was about time I moved his halting attempt at conversation along. Wiping the frown from my face and changing my posture to appear less threatening I motioned once more for him to continue. I even gave him a gentle, if toothless smile for extra encouragement.


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    ¡°I¡¯d um¡­ like to thank you¡­ for taking care of Uncle Tare?¡± he offered after some hesitation.


    ¡°Right. You are welcome.¡± I sighed. I seriously doubted he was as thankful as he claimed to be. I feared he had an ulterior motive as well. No one ran after people just to thank them.


    ¡°He¡¯s seriously a great guy, welcomed us when we got here, made us feel right at home. We thought we were going to lose him, you know. It was horrible, seeing him get worse day by day with nothing we could do for him but pray,¡± the man continued. ¡°So, thank you, for saving his life.¡±


    He was rambling.


    Does everyone in this town ramble?


    ¡°And I¡¯d like to say sorry as well, for how we treated you,¡± he apologized. ¡°You¡¯ve been nothing but helpful, and we¡¯ve treated you with suspicion and hostility.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I tilted my head. ¡°And I am supposed to simply believe you are no longer suspicious of me now?¡±


    ¡°yes?¡± He startled.


    Really?


    Does he not see himself startle back?


    Does he not hear the questioning tone in his own voice?


    This man was confusing not being openly hostile to me with trust. All he did was maybe trust me not to kill him. Feeling generous I kept my dislike out of my face and allowed him to continue.


    ¡°Limn would like to apologize as well.¡±


    Limn? Apologize? Hilarious!


    ¡°Limn?¡± I barely held back a choked laugh. ¡°Point a bow at me Limn? Don¡¯t let it out of the water Limn? How can you people trust that thing Limn?¡± Resentment was maybe seeping into my voice. Just a little bit though. Only a little.


    ¡°We were scared, okay!¡± He defended his friend. ¡°Gery didn¡¯t come back. Onar¡¯s stories, Onar showed us things. You know how things are like over in Ostea!¡±


    He was throwing ever wilder reasons my way to defend their actions. But more than anything, it pissed me off, being lumped in with Ostea once more. I did not care that it was a logical reaction. I did not care that the first thing on anyone¡¯s mind when hearing of vampires was always the absolute mess the continent of Ostea had become.


    No one knew what the situation was really like in Ostea. The Inquisition kept such a tight lid on things that most of what leaked out was nothing but exaggerated rumors. I could guess though. My parents had been to Ostea, before I was born, and I knew, some of those exaggerations were nowhere near as exaggerated as people thought.


    He¡¯d stopped throwing excuses at me. I did not know if it was because he had run out, or because I had started glowering at him in barely suppressed rage. He was terrified, so probably at least a little bit of the latter. I was beyond tired of this. First Onar had lumped me in with Ostea. Now this guy. Even when pretending to apologize these people couldn¡¯t stop insulting me.


    ¡°You are scared of me,¡± I told him as much, my tone only a hair removed from a snarl, and gave an exasperated hiss. ¡°Even now you are still scared of me.¡±


    He opened and closed his mouth, pitiable sounds coming out that absolutely weren¡¯t words.


    ¡°What do you people even want from me,¡± I ranted, fangs bared. ¡°I save your lives, over and over and over again. How much do you need, how much do I need to give before you see more than just¡­ THIS!¡±


    At that last word I threw my glove to the ground and waved my claws in front of his face. I regretted that action almost as soon as I had done it. Even blind I could see how much his face paled. This town, these people, they were just so horrendously good at getting under my skin.


    He stood rooted to the ground, staring at me after that outburst. ¡°Sorry,¡± I mumbled, dropping to the ground to search for the glove I had tossed aside, all the while trying to hide my claws close to my body. For all their excess length, the clothes Meg had given me did not have enough sleeve to hide these monstrous things on my fingers.


    He still stood there when I got back up. ¡°Sorry,¡± I repeated. ¡°You have every right to be afraid of me. You should be afraid of things like me. It¡¯s just¡­ fuck my life!¡± I gripped my forehead in frustration and gave him a pleading look. ¡°Tell Limn I¡¯ll listen to his apology if he seeks me out. I¡¯ll probably be around somewhere until the doctor gets here.¡±


    ¡°Right. Right,¡± the terrified man nodded and stumbled back several paces before turning around and sprinting away.


    I shouldn¡¯t have snapped at him. I shouldn¡¯t have waved my claws in his face. The man had been trying to make amends and instead I had only made him fear me more. Why had I done that? I had returned with such good intention and it hadn¡¯t even taken me an hour to screw it all up again.


    And now I had even lost track of which of these farms was Reya¡¯s. He had distracted me and now I couldn¡¯t recall if this was the first or the second farm. Instead of venting my frustration, I should have taken the time to ask him for directions, that would have been the sensible course of action.


    Not that it really mattered anymore. I glanced to the left of me, where in the distance a dark layer of haughty, bemused resentment caressed a zesty core of peppers.


    Aaaah¡­ she¡¯s been standing there all along, hasn¡¯t she?


    The blurry, human-sized shape that smelled of pepper detached itself from a larger blurry shape. ¡°Are you done terrorizing Cadge, Vale?¡±  Reya asked me.


    Oh gods, how much of that did she see?

 1.30 — Growing an Extra Finger

    ¡°If this is you trying to get me to trust you, then you¡¯re off to an abysmal start,¡± Reya quipped while walking over to me. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on a fence or something. Even then I still had to look up at her.


    ¡°Right. Listen. I¡­¡± My explanation broke off before it had even started. I had wanted to prepare for this, choose my words carefully. Instead that Winter-workout idiot had happened and now I was completely caught off guard.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Reya latched on to my insecurity. The teasing tone in her voice told me that she was absolutely giddy with excitement, that she was watching, observing, ready to catch me in a lie.


    She was too far away still to clearly see her face, so instead I glanced towards where I came from, in the direction of the town center. Her scrutinizing gaze burned a hole in the back of my skull. I was not ready for this conversation and needed a way to stall.


    ¡°Could we not do this now,¡± I offered, not bothering to look her way as I spoke. ¡°I just came from Uncle Tare. There is something I am worried about and I would like you there when I take a closer look at it.¡±


    ¡°You came from Uncle Tare?¡± She laughed. ¡°What happened to leaving?¡±


    ¡°I am¡ª¡± I bit back the word leaving before it could slip out. Blasted woman almost got me to lie. After taking a couple of moments to get the venom out of my voice I continued. ¡°I promised to check up on him?¡± The tone I managed was worse than the angry one I had almost used. It was meek, guilty, as if I was admitting to a horrible sin.


    I snuck a glance at her, expecting a biting retort, a scathing remark. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with him?¡± she asked instead. ¡°I already checked up on him this morning.¡±


    ¡°We performed an amputation, Reya.¡± I sighed, looking up at the sky. ¡°Things go wrong. Maybe I am just being overly cautious but¡­¡±


    I do not want to lose the man after what I went through to get him to this point.


    ¡°You going to do that magic thing again?¡± she queried me.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I spoke with a resoluteness that I did not feel.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you should.¡± I could feel her glare intensify even with my back turned to her. Even though her statement angered me I kept my face neutral. I wanted to magic my brains out every bit as little as she wanted to witness it.


    Turning back towards her I shook my head. ¡°I will be fine. This will not be anywhere near as involved as last time.¡±


    She stared at me. I waited, expecting more venom. Instead, she gave me a widely exaggerated nod. ¡°Tell me what you need. We¡¯ll talk on the way.¡±


    Reya gathered what I asked of her, then led the way back to Uncle Tare¡¯s place. Falling in behind her, I eyed her suspiciously. I had expected her to be angry, to push for another confrontation, but not this. Now it even looked like she was waiting for me to speak up. I did not.


    ¡°You made up your mind then.¡± Reya eventually filled the silence.


    ¡°I do not know,¡± I admitted after a little hesitation.


    ¡°You told Cadge you¡¯d be around,¡± she offered. ¡°That means you intend to stay, right?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said.  ¡°Maybe.¡± I corrected myself immediately.


    ¡°Sounds more like you¡¯re not willing to admit it, if anything.¡±


    She trying to catch me in another lie?


    Too bad for her, it wasn¡¯t going to work.


    I had not planned on this. I was supposed to check up on Uncle Tare and leave again immediately after, but I could not. I had allowed myself a tiny opening by not committing myself to leave right after, and now I knew why. ¡°I do not want him to die, Reya,¡± I admitted. I really did not want this man to die.  ¡°But if you want me gone, I am gone,¡± I amended.


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to be a better person, I guess,¡± Reya conceded. ¡°I suppose that counts for something. Or¡­ maybe you¡¯re not, and this is just another act?¡±


    Right. Here it was then, the real Reya, the bitchy one trying to manipulate and bait me. Inwardly I fumed, but I plastered my best hurt-and-wronged impression on my face for her to look at. It turned out not to be needed. She did not look my way.


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    Reya knocked on Suri¡¯s door, then held her hand out in front of me, all still without looking at me. ¡°How many fingers am I holding up?¡±


    I gawked at her, sputtering in protest. ¡°I¡­ what? How is that relevant?¡±


    ¡°How many fingers, Vale?¡± she insisted, waving her hand for emphasis.


    ¡°I¡­ um¡­¡± I muttered, stalling for time. I leaned forward, peering at her hand. It was a blob, a blur, a vague stain backdropped by the door. I hoped it was the door. She could have knocked on the wall instead of the door and I would not be able to tell. She could even have magically grown a sixth finger.


    Suri saved me by answering the door. In front of her, Reya dropped the subject as if it had never been broached. We were let in and got to work in professional silence, me directing Reya with only the minimum of instructions.


    It was my first time seeing the stump with the bandages off. My first time consciously seeing it, at least. I had done this. Somehow I had done this and not retained any of it. It was a shoddy job, the kind that could only have worked with a judicious application of magic. Naturally, without a continuous influx of magic to sustain it, it had gotten inflamed.


    Reya asked Suri to leave the room, for which I was immensely grateful. I was only treating a minor infection, only a single wound. It was something I should be able to manage without¡­ leaking. Yet my previous attempt at proving myself had made it clear that I did not know my limits anywhere near as well as I thought I did.


    My limited magical reserves, nowhere near recovered from my previous feat, at least meant that I was forced to focus much more on finesse than I usually did. I wove, layered the weave not once, but twice. I briefly wavered on a third layer, but held off on it. Thrice would be showing off, and I really did not think I would be able to manage that right now.


    When I looked up Reya gave me a worried frown. I tried to smile at her, but it came out as more of a grimace. Refusing to let the fear hold me back I pulled the weave out of my core. Blinking against the pain I applied the magic to the infection, slowly working it in to ease the worst of it.


    When the energy from the first layer of the weave waned, I unraveled that layer, revealing the still sturdy layer underneath. It was a trick I managed to repeat a second time because of my double layering. Even then it wasn¡¯t enough to ease the entire inflamed area. But it would probably be sufficient for the body¡¯s natural healing to take over from here. And if it wasn¡¯t, I could always take another look this evening.


    ¡°See, no mess,¡± I panted when I was done. I tried to say it with a jeer, a grin, but I was too exhausted to manage it.


    ¡°You look like shit.¡± Reya scrutinized my ashen face.


    ¡°Feel like shit,¡± I admitted, after taking a couple of seconds to scrutinize her face right back. ¡°But at least all of the shittiness isn¡¯t leaking out now.¡±


    We waited, staring at each other, examining the other¡¯s face while I recovered my breath. Reya managed to somehow bandage things up again without breaking eye contact.


    ¡°Hm,¡± Reya scoffed eventually. ¡°And now you do look me in the eyes. It¡¯s the sun, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I am not¡ª¡± I protested out of habit.


    ¡°Don¡¯t answer,¡± Reya interrupted me. ¡°It¡¯s okay to keep some things to yourself. Just be ready to field questions. This is a small town. People are nosy, so you won¡¯t be able to keep hiding everything.¡±


    ¡°I am¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shush!¡± she silenced me again. ¡°Don¡¯t ruin your honesty streak. You fake it well, but you do too much staring people in the eyes indoors, and too much staring off into the distance outside.¡±


    I eyed her warily. Then, to not stare at her so intensely I looked off to the side. Realizing that looked suspicious I tried to look somewhere else, but every single place in this room I stared at only seemed worse.


    Aaaah¡­ why did she make me conscious of where I¡¯m looking?


    At my wandering gaze, Reya broke into a mad grin. She barely managed to stifle a laugh, then called Suri into the room.


    Reya elaborated on some kind of herbal medicine-related stuff to Suri while I loitered at the door, debating on whether I should just leave and let them handle this on their own or wait for Reya.


    After pondering on that for far too long I had no other option but to wait. Leaving after hesitating for several minutes would only make things weirder. Eventually Reya was done, and she guided me outside with a hand on my shoulder. I resisted the urge to shake it off. It was the first time she wasn¡¯t being standoffish to me since our argument and I did not want to ruin it.


    That did not mean I trusted her rapid change in demeanor. ¡°Why are you suddenly nice to me?¡± I hissed at her as soon as Suri had closed the door behind us. Reya took her hand from my shoulder and gave me a look. I so wanted to know what kind of look, but out here I once again only had her posture to work with.


    ¡°You should try honest vulnerability more often,¡± she proposed, leaning down slightly. ¡°It¡¯s way better at winning people over than waving your claws in their face.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I nodded, entirely unconvinced.


    ¡°You coming?¡± She gestured for me to follow and walked on ahead.


    ¡°Um¡­ where?¡± I questioned, staying where I was.


    ¡°The bunkhouse. You¡¯re staying, right?¡± She stopped and turned to look my way.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± I hesitated. If I said yes now then that would mean giving in. I did not think I could run away from this place a second time without consequences. If I followed her then it meant staying here, at least for a day or two, and accepting everything that came with it, no matter what those things were.


    I still wasn¡¯t sure I was ready for that. And I wasn¡¯t convinced I could let Reya lead me on that path like this. Not after everything she had said to me last night.  Her blunt admittance that she did not trust me still lingered in my mind, even now. She might just be doing this to be nice, simply because everyone else was nice to me. She might be asking me to stay, even when she really just wanted me gone.


    ¡°I am sorry,¡± I whimpered, looking up at her with a great effort of will. ¡°I am sorry for using Meg to get you to trust me.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Reya hummed, combing her hair behind her shoulder. ¡°That means you¡¯re staying then?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t. You should apologize to Meg instead of me,¡± Reya chided me. It wasn¡¯t an acknowledgment that she had accepted my desire to stay. It wasn¡¯t an outright refusal either.

 1.31 – Secrets And More Secrets

    <div>


    Reya led me through a door into some building. I only realized once I was already inside that it was the very same door I had used to exit the bunkhouse the day before. The familiar blend of fresh ingredients and simmering food with a hint of chicken broth lingered in the air. The Chicken-broth woman wasn¡¯t present however. Instead, the Lovelorn-firebird man stood in front of the fire, cooking something. When we entered he gave me a short, assessing look, then turned his gaze towards Reya.


    ¡°She¡¯s decided to stay until the Academy doctor gets here,¡±  Reya explained in my stead.


    ¡°You changed your mind about her then?¡± the old man asked Reya with a grave frown. He did not seem pleased with my presence.


    ¡°No,¡± Reya stated, accentuating the negative with a short shake of her head. ¡°But she probably won¡¯t kill anyone. She scared Cadge half to death a little while ago though.¡±


    Eh?


    Probably won¡¯t kill anyone?


    Thanks Reya. Nice to know you¡¯re still every bit the bitch I thought you were. For a second there you were growing on me.


    ¡°That¡¯s not exactly comforting news,¡± the man surmised. He scratched the stubble on his chin. ¡°Suppose it was too much to hope for that she would just leave.¡±


    Sooo feeling welcome right now.


    ¡°Problems rarely disappear by neglecting them,¡± Reya commented, patting down her ass before plopping it down on a chair.


    Right. So I was a problem now. Despite the low opinion these two people obviously had of me I decided to remain a silent bystander to their exchange. I was used to this kind of treatment, so it didn¡¯t bother me much. Besides, getting this kind of insight about my position in this village was educational if nothing else.


    I put on a distracted air and let my eyes drift around the room. As far as I could tell not much had changed since yesterday. It still looked and felt every bit as much as living quarters merged with an oversized kitchen. The Chicken-broth woman was the only notable absence.


    ¡°Unfortunately true,¡± the man agreed with Reya¡¯s statement that I was a problem, then shuffled a little to the side to inspect the contents of an oven. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll need to do another round of talking people out of doing stupid things then.¡±


    Right. Of course. Owner of this bunkhouse. That probably meant he was the closest anyone got to being in charge at a place like this. I should have expected that. Of course Reya didn¡¯t just bring me here to get me a room. I was here to be assessed, judged. But talking people out of doing stupid things¡­


    He¡¯s doing a shit job of that.


    Left me there in the water for well over half an hour.


    Might be better to just leave.


    Once he was done with the oven he came over. Standing in front of me he seized me up. By looking down. He was tall and broad-shouldered, without actually being intimidating, yet he studied me with an intensity that betrayed a lifetime of dealing with difficult people.


    ¡°And you girl, what kind of trouble are we getting into with you?¡± he asked me.


    Not a kid!


    I did not protest at the insult. This man was trying to protect his town. He might even answer directly to the local Lord. That made his question potentially very dangerous for me, especially since I did not know how much other people had told him. If he had been told everything and I withheld information, then I was in trouble. On the other hand, if I divulged something he did not expect, it might be even worse for me.


    I glanced past him, giving Reya a pleading look. She shrugged and kept her face carefully neutral. I was on my own then, forced to guess about how much she had shared about me. I bet she was enjoying this. No, a bet wasn¡¯t even needed. The bemused taste wafting around her told me she was enjoying this. The man frowned at our exchange. Clearly I could not keep stalling, so I decided to skirt the issue instead.


    ¡°You are the only ones that know,¡± I admitted. ¡°As far as the rest of the world is concerned I am just another hunter on the dole.¡± I did not specify who I meant with that ¡®you¡¯, or what it was exactly they were supposed to know. With a bit of luck, their minds would fill in those blanks for me.


    I didn¡¯t even bother explaining the possible consequences of associating with potential vampires. Everyone already knew those anyway. The Inquisition would act swift, decisive, and hopefully just. In the rare case that they committed atrocities, no one would dare name it for the abuse of power it was. But the real risk for these townspeople came from overzealous nuts. One of those could burn the whole village down in a misguided attempt to cleanse the evil.


    The man rolled his shoulders at my response and glanced sidelong at Reya. ¡°You¡¯re right. Foolish and manipulative more than outright dangerous.¡± He addressed me again only after returning to his pot. ¡°Old room is still available. You can have it until the doctor gets here.¡±


    I struggled not to gawk, while trying to decide which part of his answer I found more shocking, that he allowed me to stay, or that he had offered me that outrageous room. It was sunny, south facing with a large window. I wasn¡¯t going to rest in a place with that much sunlight streaming in. And it had two whole beds, that room. It was for four people at the least, maybe even eight. He couldn¡¯t give me that kind of luxury.


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    I tasted the air in search of a hint of deception. Not finding any ill intent I then pursed my lips, weighing my options, trying to find a way out of this offer. ¡°How much?¡± I asked, recalling how much I had on me. ¡°Do you not have anything smaller available?¡±


    Smaller as in cheaper, less luxurious. Even with what Gery had given me I could not afford the kind of luxury the Firebird had offered for long. I prayed for something communal at least. His offer was absurd, I was only a mere hunter, not a priest or a merchant or a knight. People like me did not get a whole room to themselves.


    ¡±I¡¯m not bunking you with the loggers girlie,¡± the man pointed out. ¡°It¡¯s free till the doctor gets here.¡±


    ¡°Free?¡± I blurted out. Free was even worse. I could not take that kind of room out of charity a second time. Only giving it to me until the doctor got here also meant he only had the two rooms, the one he was offering me, and the one Limn and his group were staying in. It was a room for eight. Taking it, without payment, was like robbing this man of half of his income.


    Of course, this was only in case he was being honest with me. They could just as well be using this absurd and incomprehensible display of generosity to make me lower my guard. In fact, that was quickly becoming the only plausible reason for the offer. They might simply not need the room for me after the doctor arrived because they¡¯d already reported me and an Inquisition team was coming along with the doctor. It was not because I couldn¡¯t taste any deceit in the air that there wasn¡¯t any. After all, I was a problem for them. Their own words.


    ¡°I am a hunter, you don¡¯t need to give me that kind of room,¡± I protested, trying to mitigate the risk I would be exposed to. ¡°I can sleep anywhere, honestly. I sleep in barns, hospices, middle of the road even, monasteries when I am offered, ¡­ Please do not give me two whole beds for free. It would feel like too much of an abuse of your¨C¡±


    I did not get to finish my sentence. The man dropped his ladle and very slowly turned towards me. Glancing over at Reya I saw her glaring at me while massaging her temples. Fury and shock radiated from her in equal measure. I didn¡¯t get it. Clearly I had said something wrong.


    Is my refusal really that shocking?


    Did I misjudge everything this badly?


    I can¡¯t have. They¡¯d called me a problem just moments ago.


    So, I had saved Uncle Tare, and taken care of the ahuizotl, but that doesn¡¯t deserve enough gratitude to make my refusal this shocking, does it?


    ¡°You sleep¡­ in monasteries¡­¡± the man recited my words.


    Oh¡­ Right.


    That.


    Demon sleeping in monasteries. That would do it. Somehow I¡¯d fallen back to my hunter persona, said all the things that were intended for people that only knew me as a poor, lonely hunter. But to these villagers I was a vampire, a demon. Demons weren¡¯t supposed to enter hallowed ground.


    ¡°Um¡­ yes?¡± I admitted. There wasn¡¯t really any polite way I could backpedal from this. Besides, Reya had seen me heal Uncle Tare. How much of a stretch could it be to go from that to this. ¡°I admit, they are not exactly comfortable, those natural Tonaltus fields.¡± I suppressed a shudder. Horrible, painful, barely any rest at all nights, those. ¡°Refusing monastery shelter is all kinds of suspicious though.¡±


    The both of them stared at me, completely speechless.


    ¡°They are really not that powerful, you know, natural Tonaltus fields,¡± I defended myself. ¡°How else do you think Ostea got this bad.¡±


    The man took a chair and sat himself down on it. He then cupped his head in his hands and moaned quietly. Slowly, it dawned on me that this might have been one of those things the Inquisition was trying to keep a lid on.


    Reya walked over to the broken man and began kneading his shoulders. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you get used to her surprises shockingly fast. Well¡­ that, or they break you.¡±


    ¡°I can see why you don¡¯t trust her.¡± The man grunted, shaking his head in denial.


    ¡°Hm-hmm,¡± Reya hummed, a satisfied smirk creeping into her expression.


    ¡°There are things about her you haven¡¯t told me, aren¡¯t there?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask, old man. I promised her not to tell anyone and for the sake of my own sleep I¡¯d rather keep that promise,¡± Reya confessed, then she glared at me. ¡°Remember what I told you not even 10 minutes ago? Vulnerable instead of terrifying? Work on it, Vale!¡±


    ¡°I did not know, yes!¡± I defended myself. ¡°I am just a hunter to people. I have always been just a hunter to people. There is nothing special about a hunter sleeping in a mo-nastery.¡±


    Reya shook her head and sighed. ¡°Just go, stow your stuff in the room or something. You know where it is by now.¡± She motioned towards the door, then let go of the man¡¯s shoulders. ¡°On second thought, let me go with you.¡±


    Doesn¡¯t even trust me to unload my horse anymore.


    Somehow I¡¯ve messed things up even more than before.


    ¡°I know how to unpack my horse, Reya,¡± I snapped at her.


    ¡°Without scaring, intimidating, or traumatizing people?¡± She scoffed.


    I did not deign her with a reply, only glared. It was the Traumatized-firebird that interceded on my behalf. ¡°Let her unload her own horse Reya.¡±


    With one last glare, I closed the door behind me. Much as I resented it, it would probably have been better to have Reya with me. Then at least she could serve to fend off other annoying people. Not that I considered Reya any kind of pleasant company. I was mostly just starting to get a handle on her brand of unpleasantness, and I¡¯d actually take it over dealing with more new people that suddenly thought they knew me.


    Sadly, the Firebird-man could probably use her more right now than I could. His insistence that I could unload my own horse hadn¡¯t been to help me. The subtext was more than clear enough. Reya was to stay behind, so they could talk without me.


    In the end, I needn¡¯t have worried over more unexpected villager encounters. I didn¡¯t run into anyone, not when stabling Fern in the rickety overhang they had for a barn, and not when carrying my stuff inside. Yet once back indoors I was greeted by yet another of Reya¡¯s trademark glares when I interrupted a conversation she was having with the man.


    ¡°Vale, these are Rafe and Eryn¡¯s living quarters. Please respect that,¡± she berated me. ¡°The public areas are through the other door.¡±


    Right. Of course. Don¡¯t randomly trudge through people¡¯s houses when heading to your room. Instead, I had to go through that common room where I had seen Limn and his friends. I so hoped no one was there right now.


    Shuffling back out I wondered what the man, Rafe apparently, and Reya were talking about that was so secretive they had to kick me out the moment I walked in. All I had managed to catch was ¡®without his permission¡¯. Most likely it was about me. I wanted to know what they were hiding. I was not going to risk things in a foolish attempt to find out though.


    A quick sniff before I entered the common area told me I was once more in luck. There was no one there, and after two short trips I was settled in. I sat myself down on the ground, in the least sunny corner of the room, unsure of what to do now.


    It was uncanny. I had always had something to busy myself with, someplace to be, or simply something to run away from. Now, I had nothing. I had a room, I had time, and I did not know what to do with it. I unpacked my stuff, because that was what people did. Then I packed it all again, because I wanted to be able to leave at a moment¡¯s notice.


    I would clean my old clothes, I eventually decided. They reeked. I should have taken care of them yesterday, but had not gotten around to it then. Yes, I would clean my clothes, and apologize to Meg. Maybe I could even do the apology first, get the painful bit over with.

 1.32 – The Washerwoman of Birnstead

    I hugged Meg. I hadn¡¯t intended to, but she was just so nice and forgiving. Someone who was this genuinely nice, even when she knew what I was, what I had done, it was so rare, so incredibly rare that I hadn¡¯t known I had missed people like Meg in my life until she was there.


    So I hugged her, and then she hugged me back, and for a moment everything in my life was right. It was only the tiniest of moments, the smallest sliver of happiness, and then the little gremlin girl came rushing out of the other room.


    ¡°Are you crying?¡± she crowed. ¡°You totally are! You¡¯re an even bigger crybaby than Trip.¡±


    I glowered at the little demon of a girl, safe in the knowledge that Meg who was hugging me couldn¡¯t see me do so. The little thing startled back, wide-eyed.


    ¡°Ari!¡± Meg scolded her.


    Right. Ari. That was her name. Ari was on the verge of crying. Had I done that by scowling? I quickly twisted my face into a quirky grimace and stuck my tongue out at her. ¡°No I¡¯m not, see, no tears,¡± I teased her.


    It wasn¡¯t a lie. I wasn¡¯t crying, not really. I had the emotion, just not the tears. I had never really bothered to figure out how to get my body to produce tears.


    ¡°Ah¡­ you¡¯re mean!¡± the girl pouted.


    ¡°Ari!¡± Meg chided once more.


    ¡°No, no, it is my fault. I was being mean,¡± I apologized, squeezed Meg a little tighter, then let go and opened my arms towards the girl. ¡°Sorry Ari. Hug?¡±


    The girl pouted some more, eyed me warily for a second, then it was a three-way-hug. My first ever three-way-hug.


    Aaaah, this is so nice. Is this what a family feels like?


    I¡¯m hugging people and not even thinking about how delicious they are.


    Dammit!


    Reluctantly I extricated myself from their warm embrace. As much as it pained me to do so, this really wasn¡¯t safe.


    Give yourself some more credit, Vale.


    Maybe I should, but I wasn¡¯t going to experiment with a little girl¡¯s neck inches removed from my fangs. ¡°I should be going,¡± I told Meg while trying to arrange my by now rumpled loaner clothes into some semblance of order. My eyes searched the room, hoping to say goodbye to the little gremlin as well, but she had already flitted away. ¡°I would like to get my old outfit washed before it gets dark.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re staying for a couple of nights, the offer to tailor you something that really fits still stands,¡± Meg proposed after seeing me struggle with my garments.


    ¡°Thanks, but I will manage,¡± I deflected the offer. Then I hesitated. She¡¯d gifted me these clothes, and I hadn¡¯t offered anything in return. I couldn¡¯t let that stand. ¡°No. Fine. Tailor away,¡± I relented. ¡°But I am paying for the tailoring. And the clothes themselves.¡±


    ¡°Vale, no! You don¡¯t need to pay for that.¡± Meg sighed.


    ¡°I do Meg,¡± I implored her. ¡°You guys already paid me for the extermination. Me being allowed to stay a little longer is a tremendous risk for all of you. That alone is a debt I will never be able to repay. Please do not make me feel even worse about it by showering me with handouts.¡±


    ¡°Oh, fine,¡± Meg conceded, already glancing in the direction of the room where she kept her measuring stick. ¡°You want me to measure you up now or later?¡±


    ¡°How about I go soak everything in the river and come back once I have hung it to dry?¡± I offered. ¡°No one is going to run of with my clothes out here if I leave them hanging on a bush I suppose.¡±


    I didn¡¯t really think I¡¯d get those old clothes of mine clean with a simple river wash. But a great wash, no, I wasn¡¯t a washerwoman. I would never be fond of a great wash. I could probably wait several more months for one, bloodstains be damned.


    <hr>


    Still not wanting to face the men at work near the pier I fled with my laundry into the forest. A little downriver, far enough from the town to be out of sight and out of earshot, I set to work. Leaving the washed clothes to dry on some bushes and branches I hunched down on the river bank, enjoying the gentle lapping water streaming through my fingers.


    I surprised myself with it, the peace and quiet were apparently enough for me to be willing to sit here, in the sun. There was a slight northern breeze, and an occasional cloud drifting across the sky. The temperature as well, was less sweltering than the days prior. The sun still nearly seared the flesh of my bones, but I sat there anyway.


    Aaaah¡­ voluntarily relaxing in the sun. This town really is getting to me.


    After a little while, I got self-conscious enough to retreat to the forest, seeking out a more comfortable place to rest in the shade. There, I laid my head down on a mossy rock and stared up at the canopy.


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    For a moment I let my thoughts wander, imagining myself free of worries and responsibilities. I wished I could stay here like this, just me and the forest. No people. I probably could do it, abandon civilization. There was nothing I needed that civilization provided. Nothing at all. Except maybe company. People to talk to.


    People to talk to¡­


    The thought tugged at me, pulling at an anxious bundle of worry I had pushed to a distant corner of my mind. Now that I had become aware it was there, it became impossible to ignore.


    Talking.


    Not talking.


    Back at the bunkhouse, when Reya had introduced me to this Rafe, I had chosen to observe. In the moment it had seemed like a better idea not to talk. That Rafe person had been wary of me, bordering on hostile. It had felt safer to hold off on speaking until I had a better handle on the situation because of it. If I remained silent and observed, then there were no words of mine to twist, nothing I could mess up by saying the wrong thing.


    I had intended to speak up eventually, to confront his distrust of me. In the end, I never had. The whole encounter had only evoked more questions, yet instead of asking them, I had barely done more than answer him. Now, the more I worked that encounter over in my mind, the more I wondered¡­


    What if remaining silent had been worse than speaking up.


    Yes, maybe that was the case, illogical though it sounded. It was a genuinely terrifying thought to have. With Reya looming over my shoulder, ready to berate me at the first hint of dishonesty, I had been hesitant. How would I ever get people to provide answers to the things that worried me without them realizing that these things worried me? What if the things they thought about me after I asked were worse than what they thought before? How could I even know in advance?


    I had been so convinced I knew how to get people to do what I wanted. But that was before¡­ before I needed to face an entire village that knew far too much about me. Before Reya, and her uncanny ability to unnerve me.


    I sighed.


    Not speaking up and asking questions might not even have been the only mistake I made. When I¡¯d barged in on that private conversation, right before Reya had turned her angry glare towards me, it had been directed at Rafe. They had been in disagreement about something. About me. I had been stupid not to listen in. Somehow Reya noticed everything about me. I had been afraid that if I eavesdropped she¡¯d notice as well, and so I¡¯d simply ran back out. Stupid. Foolish. I could not afford to be ignorant.


    Hah. At least I wasn¡¯t the only one that Reya liked to get snappy at.


    Was she¡­ defending me?


    I shook my head at the absurdity of that. Clearly, I was overthinking again, an obvious sign that it was time for me to stop loitering. I had promised Meg she could measure me, so I couldn¡¯t keep lounging here until dark. Yet, going back would mean stripping again, exposing myself. Maybe that was why I was postponing it. Yes, it was only that. Absolutely no other disturbing thoughts were keeping me right now.


    Still just as bad at lying to myself.


    Reluctantly I got up and returned to Gery and Meg¡¯s place, once again taking care not to encounter anyone on the way. There, Meg promptly got to work. Halfway through the measuring session, which involved far too much of Meg crouching to match my height, the little gremlin morsel popped back in.


    ¡°Mo~om, Dune doesn¡¯t want to play!¡± the girl pleaded.


    ¡°Good, then you can take care of your little brother,¡± Meg declared without missing a beat. ¡°He needs changing.¡±


    Meg was right. The little nibble persistently clinging to her leg reeked.


    ¡°Do I have to?¡± the mushroom-gremlin nagged, scrunching up her face and looking around for a distraction that could get her out of the chore. To my despair, she latched on to my nakedness. ¡°Oh, oh, oh! You got claws? That is sooooo neat!¡± She almost literally buried her face in my hands.


    ¡°Hey, Hey! Careful. Sharp!¡± I cautioned, hoisting my arms high up in the air, out of her reach. As long as she wouldn¡¯t stand on the tip of her toes, that is.


    Why is this slip of a girl almost as tall as I am?


    ¡°Are you hiding something else?¡± The gremlin darted around me, even squeezing in between me and Meg to get a close look from every possible angle. ¡°Tail? Wings? Horns?¡±


    Her shameless antics elicited another indignant ¡°Ari!¡± from Meg, yet the gremlin could not be deterred. She continued ignoring her mom, at least until Meg picked her up and forcible deposited her next to her baby brother. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry Vale, she¡¯s usually more well behaved,¡± the seamstress excused her unruly daughter¡¯s behavior.


    ¡°¡¯s fine, Meg,¡± I reassured her. ¡°She is just curious, that is all.¡± I shook my head and spread my arms again, allowing Meg to finish her measuring. ¡°At least it¡¯s a better reaction than every single adult out there,¡± I added under my breath, too faint for anyone to hear.


    ¡°Sorry?¡± Meg asked me, having caught some of it anyway.


    ¡°Nothing. It¡¯s nothing.¡± I shook my head once more.


    I hid myself in my borrowed clothes as soon as Meg was done. While Meg went to put away her ell-wand the gremlin dashed out again. Placing the freshly changed nibble down in front of me she reached for my gloves. ¡°Aaaw¡­ you hid them. Can I see again?¡± She begged.


    ¡°No,¡± I stated plainly. I had promised myself I wouldn¡¯t encourage people¡¯s weird claw obsessions any longer, and as far as I was concerned, that also extended to little girls. On seeing her sad little frown I relented a tiny bit though. ¡°I could show you my fangs?¡± I offered instead.


    ¡°Really?¡± she squealed, jumping up and down in excitement.


    I smiled faintly, pulling back my bottom lip enough to let a single fang slip past it, and waited for her reaction. Maybe it wasn¡¯t a good idea to encourage people on the fangs either, but she was cute, yes. Annoying, but cute. In the end, all I got from her was a disappointed little huff.


    Really? What did she expect?


    Any bigger and they wouldn¡¯t fit in my mouth.


    I stuck my nose up in the air and huffed right back at her.


    ¡°Do you mind watching them for a bit while I take care of dinner?¡± Meg asked me when she returned from the other room. ¡°They appear to like you.¡±


    I glanced down. Even the nibble was clinging to my leg now. I wanted to say no. I should have said no. I wasn¡¯t a babysitter. I had no clue how to deal with kids. But leaving now would mean dealing with people, and I wasn¡¯t so sure anymore that I was better with people than I was with kids.


    With a huff and a shake of my head, I sat down on the ground next to the two kids. They ran off only a couple of seconds later. I tried to engage them in conversation. Somehow I ended up the princess that needed to save the dragon from the evil demon. I hoped. Who was supposed to be who seemed nearly as fluid to me as who was supposed to do what.


    After what felt like an eternity I was saved by the nibble getting up from the ground, tottering over to the door, and babbling ¡°Dada. Dada. Dada!¡±

 1.33 – No Drink to Be Had

    Reluctantly, I began the arduous process of extricating myself from the kids¡¯ clutches. My reluctance did not come from a growing appreciation for the brats. They were maddening, infuriating, completely incomprehensible creatures. They were needy, clingy, selfish, annoying, and were constantly arguing with each other. I failed to understand how anyone would ever want to voluntarily conceive even one of these things. Let alone two of them.


    No, it was Gery¡¯s arrival that had served to remind me of the growing feeling of dread that had been plaguing me for most of the afternoon. I could not keep ignoring it, could not keep postponing. The longer I waited, the worse things were going to get.


    The time for hiding behind the fa?ade of a lonely little hunter girl was over. I could not keep pretending, not after waving my claws in Winter-workout¡¯s face. Not after my disastrous talk with Rafe. I had confirmed some of these people¡¯s suspicions. That news would travel. It was only a matter of time now before all kinds of new facts would be invented on top of it.


    The longer I hid away like this, the less control I would have over the truths people chose to believe. I did not want to engage in more awkward conversations. I did not want to confront people and force answers and assurances out of them. I did not want any confrontation at all. All I really wanted were happy moments like these with Meg¡¯s family. Yet I had set this course myself, and now I would have to deal with the consequences.


    First, after excusing myself to Meg and Gery, I paid another visit to Uncle Tare. The old man was not just awake this time, but was even sitting up in his bed. He was still in obvious pain, and under the influence of some kind of medicine, but was nevertheless lively enough to talk.


    He had questions for me, far too many questions. About his own health. About where I was staying. If they were feeding me properly. That it was a cruel world where little angels like me were forced to wander from town to town, doing jobs that even grown men dared not undertake. Yes, he even phrased that last one as a question, as if I would have answers to the philosophical musings dredged up by his drugged mind.


    Soon I got the impression that the rumors about me, that I was a vicious, bloodthirsty monster, had not yet reached him. The blacksmith genuinely believed I was human. I could not bring myself to dissuade him of this misconception. Luckily he was still a little addled, unable to keep a train of thought or focus on a single subject for long. It helped me in dodging and dancing around the most obviously damning of questions.


    Once outside again I took several long, slow, deep breaths. I did not need to breathe, but the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of my chest calmed me down anyway.


    Aaaah¡­ he called me his sweet little guardian angel.


    I was not an angel, and I was not sweet, and I was most assuredly not little. But most of all, he would never call me those things again, not after he learned what I really was. I let the evening sun wash over me, welcoming the pain as I calmed myself down, welcoming the weakness and the struggle to keep my body animated.


    To help steady my emotions I fed and brushed Fern, then fetched my by now mostly dry laundry. Finally unable to postpone any longer, I entered the bunkhouse, laundry in hand. The slow murmur of conversation dropped off as people struggled not to look my way. I did not let the anxiety I felt show on my face, gave the six people sitting around a table a curt but friendly nod as I passed by, and continued up the stairs.


    I resisted the urge to hole up in my room. It was tempting though. I had hoped for there to be at least one person in the common room I could sort of trust. I had assumed there would be even. Getting people to trust me would be so much harder without Meg, or Gery, or ¨C I was mad for even thinking it ¨C even Reya.


    The group of people that sat at the table downstairs was especially bad for me. It included the four that had sat there yesterday: Limn, Winter-workout Cadge, the Tempered-steel woman, and a fourth man. The other two were Moldy-leather and an unknown woman. Limn, I actively distrusted. Cadge and Moldy-leather were likely to be afraid of me. The Tempered-steel woman had been part of the ones keeping me in the river for half an hour. That only left the two unknowns, and I had trouble believing in them since they associated with Limn.


    Most likely I was being highly unfair and judgemental to some of these people. Then again, I hadn¡¯t lived this long by giving people I distrusted the benefit of the doubt.


    Working my way down the stairs I settled on a new, slightly more cautious plan. I would get myself something to drink, would sit down at an empty table, and settle in for an evening of observing. I would only insert myself in a conversation if I had no other choice.


    Like so many of my other plans, this one fell through mere seconds after I had made it. This was a bunkhouse, not an inn or tavern. There was no counter, no innkeeper, no tavern master, and thus no drink to be had. Sitting at a table with nothing at hand was going to be awkward.


    Right. I guess I was looking for a conversation starter?


    I eyed the group sitting around that one table. Their conversation had once more mostly dried up. Only the two women were desperately trying to keep it going. Everyone else was trying not to focus on me, and failing at it.


    I cleared my throat to grab their attention. Obviously, there was no need to grab it. I already had it, but at least this way I would be spared all of them pretending they had not noticed me when I asked my question.


    ¡°Any one of you know where I can get some¨C ¡­ale?¡± I asked, correcting myself at the last second. I had almost said ¡®something to drink¡¯. With so many people here convinced I was a vampire, the way I phrased certain innocuous things was unexpectedly becoming far more dangerous than I had anticipated.


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    ¡°Just knock on the door,¡± the one man I did not know, the one whose aroma shimmered like a frozen lake contemplating the whims of the sun, answered with surprisingly little hesitation. ¡°Rafe or Eryn will help you out with whatever you need.¡±


    I thanked the man and knocked on the door to procure my drink. It was the Chicken-broth woman that answered. Eryn apparently. I accepted my drink from her, after having to refuse an offer of food at least three times.


    Nursing my mug I wandered towards the nearest of the two empty tables, wondering where her husband had run off to. He hadn¡¯t been in their living quarters just now. I could not figure out how their tenancy of this place worked at all. Yesterday, Erin had appeared in charge. This afternoon, it had turned out that Rafe ran things, and Eryn had been missing. And now Eryn was serving drinks and Rafe was nowhere to be found. It was puzzling.


    Knowing so little annoyed me. To survive all this I needed to know how the power structure in this town worked, yet the more I learned about it the more it felt like I was only just scratching the surface. I needed to get more insight, fast. Pulling back a chair I hesitated.


    Far too often I avoided interacting with people. I made excuses for why I did it. Endless excuses. In the end, all those justifications always came down to the same thing. I did not think like them, so engaging with them was tiring. It was what made sitting down at this empty table and observing so tempting. On the other hand¡­


    Can¡¯t make it much worse.


    Yes, it would be a shame to let the opportunity go to waste. I had already done that this afternoon with Rafe. I could not afford to make that same mistake a second time. ¡°Mind if I join?¡± I asked the group of six, pulling the chair over and straddling it without waiting for a reply.


    Straddling the chair might not have made the most conventional of sitting poses, and it wasn¡¯t very ladylike, but coming over as conventional and proper was low on my priority list. Being unhindered by the chair''s backrest allowed for a swift exit in case things got less than pleasant.


    For now, that swift exit didn¡¯t seem necessary. The reactions I received were a blending of shock, befuddlement, and general wariness. It was a far more dramatic response than what would usually be warranted for a stranger showing up at your table, but at least nothing overly rash or violent happened.


    The most extreme reaction I received from the unknown woman seated directly to my left, with a taste of rainbows over a jagged stone sky. She swore, jumped back in obvious terror, and nearly fell out of her chair. It was very much an understandable response to my intrusion. While the others had at least sort of seen me coming, I had basically snuck up from straight behind her.


    ¡°Apologies, bit forceful there,¡± I excused myself to her with an apologetic wince. I wasn¡¯t really sorry. My sudden and forced entry had been entirely intentional. I had needed it to gauge their reactions, to see who would be most frightened, and who had the highest chance of turning aggressive. Their behavior would also serve as a good starting point for my mental map of their social dynamic. I focused my initial assessment on the unknowns of the group.


    The reaction of the Tempered-steel woman seated across from me was as sharp as I had expected it. The others glancing her way confirmed to me that she had some hold on this group. Despite all that, she was the last to show sympathy to the frightened Stone-sky woman next to me. That meant the two women of this group probably weren¡¯t as close-knit as I had initially assumed.


    Moldy-leather, seated to the right of me, was exactly as shocked and scared as I had expected him to be. He also became excessively fussy with Stone-sky, even more so when she recovered from her shock faster than he did. It did not take long for his fussing to set her on edge, making her forget her fear of me. These two clearly had some kind of relationship.


    Compared to all the frightened reactions, the Contemplating-lake man who¡¯d told me where I could get a drink seemed overly relaxed. His heavy brow and large ears gave him a slightly spacey look, and the way his faraway gaze only barely broke when I had sat down almost reinforced my impression of him as a dope. Almost. He was too relaxed, nearly to the point that he appeared to exist outside the power structure of this group.


    ¡°Thanks again.¡± I raised my mug at the Contemplating-dope and took a quick sip. I used the gesture to study him further over the rim of my mug. His fragrance betrayed that he was not as relaxed as he projected himself. Still, it was a remarkable feat of control. If my instincts were right then this man would be the key to this group.


    ¡°Yeah, no worries. Join up, I don¡¯t mind,¡± the dope answered my earlier question with a smile that didn¡¯t quite reach his eyes.


    It was an invitation to stay. Perhaps not a sincere one, but an invitation nonetheless. Now, I waited to see if anyone would go against it, and if so, who. Maybe the Tempered-steel woman would. She had been awfully quiet so far, as had the long-haired snake Limn.


    When no one protested to the offer to join, I scooted my chair a little closer to the table to judge reactions to that. It was an awkward maneuver and I instantly regretted it. My feet wouldn¡¯t reach the floor so I had to get off first.


    Not short.


    Not!


    Moldy-leather startled and hissed at Jagged-stone-sky to keep her distance from me.


    She hissed right back at him in exasperation. Tired of his frightened fussing, she only moved over the bare minimum politeness would allow.


    Moldy-leather really was scared of me, I decided. On the other hand, I found I needed to reevaluate my impression of the woman. Initially, she had been the most shocked of all of them, but by now she was one of the least wary people at this table.


    Meanwhile, Cadge decided that having only Moldy-leather between him and me was not sufficient separation. He started scooting over to his right until he was practically sitting on the lap of the Contemplating-lake dope. Ironically, his evasion positioned him in a way that made it that much easier for me to keep an eye on him.


    When Cadge encroached a little too much into the dope¡¯s personal space, he received an annoyed elbow and a headshake. The small head gesture was the biggest display of facial expression I¡¯d seen from the dope so far.


    Cadge¡¯s fear was another sobering contrast. Compared to how carefree he¡¯d interacted with me earlier in the day, it was disheartening.


    Reya was right. Really shouldn¡¯t have waved my claws in his face like that.


    ¡°I am sorry for earlier,¡± I admitted to Cadge. ¡°It was a retardedly unproductive way to not get you to be scared of me.¡±


    As much as the constant stream of advice Reya had lobbed my way had annoyed me, now that I had had the time to think about it, I was forced to admit that she had a point about the way I had snapped at Cadge. Lashing out at people just because I could not tolerate them being terrified of me was not smart, especially when their fear of me was so sensible. I was just as terrified of them calling the Inquisition on me, so I should maybe put in some effort to empathize with their side.


    Cadge sort of nodded at me without really looking my way. In fact, he was trying very hard to simultaneously not look my way, and not lose sight of me. That slight nod, I was certain, was more an automatic response to being addressed, than an actual acknowledgment that he had heard and understood my words.


    In the absence of a more pronounced reaction from the man, an uncomfortable silence settled over the table. The Tempered-steel-blood woman used that opportunity to seize control of the conversation. ¡°Should we?¡± she asked. ¡°Not be scared of you, that is?¡±

 1.34 – Nothing to See Here

    I eyed the Tempered-steel woman. Instead of reacting to my intrusion on their conversation in a similar way as the others, she had cut straight to the chase, asking me if they should fear me. Curiosity and determination outlined her Tempered-steel taste when she posed me that question.


    Yes, the group dynamics were unfolding much as I had suspected. The Contemplating-dope¡¯s calm demeanor ensured group cohesion and provided a gentle, steering hand that most of these people probably weren¡¯t even aware of.


    Meanwhile, it was this Tempered-steel woman that provided the public face. Her words and actions were what people would rally behind if things got heated. And right now, the burning focus she portrayed, the set of her broad jaw, the slant of her eyebrows over her narrowed eyes, it told me she would not appreciate if I tried to deflect this question.


    ¡°Speaking as a hunter, I would consider you batshit crazy if you did not show an appropriate measure of fear for¡­ things like me,¡± I admitted with a slight tilt of my head. ¡°Speaking as a person, I would appreciate you giving me a chance anyway.¡±


    ¡°A surprisingly more sensible answer than I expected.¡± The Tempered-steel woman leaned back in her chair as she considered my answer.


    ¡°You should probably thank Reya for that. Without her council I would spend all evening sitting in that corner over there, glowering at you people.¡± I gave a quick nod of my head towards the table where I had taken my chair from.


    ¡°Sensible? Strangest thing to call sensible I¡¯ve ever heard,¡± Moldy-leather interjected, his wrinkled frown accentuating the distrust present in his scent.


    ¡°Krav, don¡¯t you dare start now!¡± The Jagged-stone-sky woman sitting to the left of me planted her hands on the table, sat up straight, and glared past me at the man sitting to the right of me.


    ¡°He¡¯s right though. Don¡¯t trust me but trust me? That¡¯s a bit too easy,¡± the Contemplating-lake countered with his usual, gentle passivity. ¡°No offense girl, but life doesn¡¯t work like that.¡±


    ¡°Fine, so you do not trust me. What do you want me to do about it?¡± I offered, pulling up my shoulders. ¡°Sit over there so you can feel a little less scared?¡± I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder, at one of the empty tables.


    ¡°No. You¡¯re going to stay right here, no matter how scared some of these chickens here get,¡± The dope replied. ¡°I want to get this over with, before we go to bed knowing you¡¯ll be across the hall.¡±


    When the Tempered-steel woman rolled her eyes at him he merely shrugged it off.


    ¡°Right.¡± I shrugged in turn and took another sip.


    ¡°Tyro, by the way.¡± The dope introduced himself to me by raising his mug and downing it in one go. ¡°You already know Cadge, the brash chick is Ambi, and the smoldering hunk sitting next to her,¡± he gestured towards Limn, ¡°is going to start by apologizing to you.¡±


    He had introduced everyone except for Moldy-leather and the Stone-sky woman. That confirmed another suspicion of me. The group of four was together. Moldy-leather and the woman were the extras.


    I turned to Limn, and to my surprise he did apologize. It was not the most spectacular of apology. All it amounted to was ¡®Onar showed us things¡¯ and ¡®we were swept up in his rhetoric¡¯. It was far too suspect. I would need to dig deeper into his excuses.


    But not right this instant. I did not even point out the weaknesses in his argumentation. The atmosphere was still far too tense to ask probing questions now. There would be a time for those, later on in the evening, when they were getting ready for bed, when they had all lowered their guard and were too tired to put up much resistance. I would simply have to wait until then. Pushing for answers right now, that was far too risky.


    Once again, I was forced to admit that Reya¡¯s advice was justified. This entire situation was tense enough without me further antagonizing people. Vulnerable instead of threatening and all that. Or to put it in more strategic terms, I was playing the long game. This was just like a hunt. They were prey, scared, threatened, flighty after having sensed the circling predator. If I struck now, I would get meager pickings. However, if I waited just a little longer, their vigil would waver.


    So I did not protest at the weak apology. The sooner this whole thing could move on to a normal dinnertime conversation the better. And it did. We talked. It was awkward. Neither of us trusted the other side enough to be entirely open. Even completely harmless subjects turned out to be utter disasters, like when they noticed I wasn¡¯t eating. All of my usual platitudes did not work. I sidestepped where I could anyway. They mostly pretended not to notice I was doing it.


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    At least embarrassing hunter tales still worked to ease the tension, even if that meant telling these people how I had wasted three weeks fumbling about with a mimixcoa worm infestation. It was relatable, I suppose. Everyone knows at least one person that had to deal with mimixcoa. The pests were absolutely everywhere. Besides, the tale was a nice way to paint myself as vulnerable.


    Over the course of their meal, I learned that this group of four were season workers, staying at the bunkhouse. It was a small group. Usually, there were more of them. The flood had decided otherwise. Too much needed to be rebuilt for the town to support as many seasonal loggers as it usually did.


    The two other people, Moldy-leather Krav and his wife Jagged-stone-sky Rue were inhabitants of this town. They had lost their house in the flood. Unlike Gery and Meg, their place had not yet been rebuilt. It was actually the last home to be rebuilt.  They were only simple loggers, so the lost farms, and the people with young kids like Gery and Meg, had gotten priority.


    While Krav and Rue waited on the reconstruction work to finish, they had been staying with the Dregs, not that I knew who they were supposed to be. They ate at the bunkhouse to be less of a burden on the Dregs, or something like that.


    I even picked up that the person the town had sent to Rivenston in search of a doctor and a hunter, was in fact their daughter.


    Less than an hour of conversation, and I was learning more about this town than in all the days prior. My strategy was working. Sort of Reya¡¯s strategy, in a way. I tried not to think about that too much. It stung that the village healer¡¯s words had so much of an impact on me. It stung even more that it stung at all.


    The sun was creeping ever lower, and so Krav and Rue left shortly after they finished their dinner. In places like these, people often went to bed when the sun went under. That made for excellent timing. With those two gone, The four remaining people were all season loggers, outsiders to this town. I counted on them being more likely to part with the town¡¯s secrets than its real inhabitants. With Krav and Rue gone, and with everyone¡¯s guard sufficiently lowered, I could finally dig a little deeper into the general aura of distrust and mystery that still lingered.


    Yet mere minutes after Krav and Rue had left, while the already stilted conversation was still recovering from the sudden departure of two people, we got an unexpected visitor. Even silhouetted by the orange glow of the evening sun, the wildflower girl that appeared in the doorway was instantly recognizable to me.


    ¡°Shae?¡± I tilted my head at the young girl bounding my way.


    ¡°Shit!¡± Ambi swore behind me.


    I had no time for further reflections. Shae jumped, flew at me in a bounding leap, and wrapped her arms around me. Her youthful enthusiasm flung me straight off of my seat. I hooked a foot behind Cadge¡¯s chair and gripped the tabletop. Gripped a little hard. My claws cut through my gloves and bit deep into the wood, but at least I managed to keep the both of us from crashing to the ground.


    Shock and fear flared in the air. Shouts and gasps filled the common room as people startled back from Shae¡¯s leap. I hoped it was just that. It was better than the alternative, my sudden assault on the table.


    No one noticed me gouging large rents in the table, right?


    I failed to convince myself with this latest attempt at self-deception. I did not even need to look at people¡¯s faces to know they had noticed. Their scent, the accelerating heartbeats, the way they had all jumped back from the table told me more than enough.


    ¡°Shae?¡± I nudged the girl on top of me with an elbow and fixed her with a stare. I focused hard on keeping that stare trained on Shae¡¯s face. It was better than looking at the loggers, better than being confronted with how they had just been reminded that yes, I really was a dangerous predator.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Shae grinned at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes.


    ¡°Get off,¡± I scolded her. ¡°Or I¡¯m letting go and then we both fall.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got you to cushion me,¡± she laughed.


    Fine. Have it your way.


    I gave her an angry scowl, but I wasn¡¯t really mad at her. These antics of her were probably doing more to smooth over the sudden revelation of murderously deadly claws than anything I could manage. I let go. We both crashed to the ground. There was nothing even remotely elegant or funny about it. Cadge extended a hand to help us up, then hastily retracted it and looked the other way.


    Definitely saw the claws.


    I crawled up by myself and glanced at the table from the corner of my eye. It was ruined, marred by deep and unsettling rents. There was no way anyone could ever again make that table look like something other than the result of a giant man-eating monster tearing through it. My glove was equally unsalvagable. I quickly hid my hand in the band of my trousers and gave everyone what I hoped was a sheepish, disarming, and above all toothless grin.


    Everything¡¯s fine. Nothing to see here. Nothing happened.


    Please don¡¯t look at the table?


    Shae noticed my quick glance and subsequent hiding of my hand. Her eyes darted from the table to me, and back to the table. She winced and her heartbeat accelerated in fear. Or was that excitement?


    ¡°Oops¡­¡± she mouthed apologetically at the startled people surrounding us.


    Definitely excitement.


    I hid my incredulity. She was accustomed to my claws, I supposed, but even then this half-bashful, half-excited tone of mischief was out of place. Her actions had terrified all the people here. Had made me accidentally terrorize all the people here. It was convenient that she was so casual about it, putting everyone at ease through her childlike innocence and indifference, but still¡­

 1.35 – Barely a Drop

    Having observed the damage to the table, the bundle of mischief named Shae returned her attention to me, and bounced in excitement. ¡°Eeeeeh! I knew you¡¯d pull through. I knew you¡¯d do it, even after you ran away.¡± The source of my worries vibrated in front of me some more, before throwing herself around my neck once again. ¡°You¡¯re the best Vale!¡±


    I pried her off me, this time leaving both of my hands on her shoulders to keep her from more youthful rashness. This once more brought the focus of five pairs of eyes to my claws. I didn¡¯t care though. Her bubbliness was infectious enough for me to give her a bright smile, fangs and all.


    Hold on. Five?


    I evaluated the new and very agitated scent that had appeared behind me. The fifth person was the Chicken-broth woman, the bunkhouse owner¡¯s wife.


    Eryn walked up to us and addressed Shae while clutching at her apron. ¡°Does your dad know you¡¯re here, Shae?¡±


    It was a valid question. A very valid question. Onar did not like me, and Shae liked to get in trouble by associating with me. It should not have taken a genius to figure out where this was going. Glancing around the room I reevaluated everyone¡¯s reactions. Their fear hadn¡¯t flared at the reveal of my claws, but at the appearance of Shae.


    What if it¡¯s not my claws they¡¯re scared of but Onar¡¯s reaction?


    ¡°I¡¯m checking up on the pig,¡± Shae noted with a twist of her hips and a mischievous smile, completely oblivious to the atmosphere.


    That¡¯s a no. Onar does not know she came to see me.


    The tension rose as several pairs of eyes glanced at the still-open door. I let go of Shae''s shoulders and took a step back, glaring at the girl. She was going to get me in trouble. A lot of trouble. ¡°Shae¡­¡± I reproached her.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s time for you to head back home young woman,¡± Eryn cautioned Shae with a frail edge of anger in her voice.


    ¡°Don¡¯t wanna,¡± the young girl pouted, ducked under Eryn¡¯s arms, and despite my backpedaling clung to my waist once more. ¡°Vale¡¯s going to teach me magic.¡±


    Wait! What?


    Where did this come from? I never promised anything like that.


    ¡°Shae, please¡­¡± I tried to pry her off again, but I had to be careful not to nick her with my exposed claws, and keep an eye on the door at the same time. I needed new gloves. I really needed new gloves. But these were already my spare set. I had no more replacements.


    If Onar comes in now while I have my claws on his-¨C


    ¡°Shae!¡± the man stormed inside, as if summoned by my thoughts. Brandishing a pitchfork he glanced from Shae, to me, to Shae, to my claws on her arm. His face turned white, then red, then purple.


    ¡°It¡¯s not--¨C¡± I stammered.


    ¡°You monster! Get away from my daughter!¡±


    I was granted no more time to explain. Onar charged, Shae shrieked. Noise drowned out all reason as people stumbled over chairs, screaming, and shouting.


    I reacted on instinct, pushing Shae one way while I weaved aside in the other direction.


    Don¡¯t let her get hurt.


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    I gave my senses free rein, let the emotions, fears, desires of everyone in the room flare to life in my mind, then used my new awareness to pivot on my back foot, seeking the one space in the room that gave me the greatest chance of avoiding casualties. Bracing to deflect a strike I brought my hands up.


    Onar lunged towards Shae and me, but instead of dragging his daughter to safety he shot straight past her, aiming for my chest.


    Cutting off my heartbeat, my breathing, every last useless muscle in my body I stepped into the attack, guided the pitchfork to the side with my left arm even while one of the tines bit into it. Then I reached further, using Onar¡¯s momentum to aid the tine all the way through my arm as I grabbed for the handle.


    Rafe barreled in from the street, but that was all the way on the other side of the room so I paid him no heed.


    With the furious Onar caught off guard by my maneuver, I stepped back, pulling the pitchfork with me.


    Thrown off-balance, Onar loosened his grip.


    Ruthlessly, I yanked the pitchfork out of the stumbling farmer¡¯s hands, backing up towards the stairs as I did so. Then, with a soundless snarl, I wrenched the weapon out of my body.


    Disarmed, Onar regained his caution and edged away. Then Rafe was on him, dragging both Onar and Shae to safety.


    Got to get out!


    Need them to stay back first!


    I snapped the handle of the pitchfork in a show of strength and threw both pieces to the side. Then I used the slowly descending silence to stare from face to face, evaluating risks and threats. My gaze settled on Ambi, and she dropped the knife she had picked up. In this new quiet the clatter as it fell to the ground startled the prey.


    A fresh spike of fear wafted towards me, tempting me. Shock and horror permeated the air, clung to every surface, marinated the frantic drumbeat of their hearts. Somewhere slightly to the right of me, the pale-faced Chicken-broth-blood whimpered, stumbled over unsteady feet, clung desperately to the wall. No one came to aid the weakest of this herd.


    Fear.


    So much fear.


    Of me¡­


    They were all terrified of me, horrified by the unbleeding, unbreathing, emotionless monster in their mids. I had gone all out, had held nothing back in an attempt to keep Shae safe, and that had been a mistake. I had not fought like a person. I had not fought like I usually did with an audience. These people suspected what I was and so I had ruthlessly used my unnatural advantages, allowed my body to get hurt to end this fast.


    Without a heartbeat, barely a drop of my blood had been spilled. Unbreathing, not a sound had escaped my lungs when I suffered the grievous wound in my arm. And then I had snatched that pitchfork out of Onar¡¯s grasp and snapped it in two, with an arm that was so badly maimed it should have been useless.


    The outcome was exactly like with Gery and the ahuizotl, only this time I could see people¡¯s faces, could see and experience their reactions down to the tiniest detail, as they saw me for what I really was. Desperate, I pulled in a heaving lungful of air, forced a look of panicked shock onto my face, and sent my blood pumping again. Only the tiniest trickle of blood snaked out of the already healing wound on my arm.


    It was another mistake. The all-enveloping terror in the room only intensified as I  pulled my usual pretend humanity out of seemingly nowhere in a mere instant. The mask no longer worked to hide the monster now that everyone knew just how much of a lie it was.


    Rafe and Tyro were the only two not paralyzed by fear. They hustled a shocked Onar, and a traumatized Shae and Eryn out of the room while my mind reeled with the consequences of my own actions. Edging backward my hands and feet sought the wall, the first step of the stairs.


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll be retiring to my room,¡± I stammered the second I found the way up. Then I turned around and barreled up the steps, wishing desperately that I knew how to cry.


    The large window I had cursed earlier was now a blessing. Staying was absolutely out. The doors to the bedrooms had no locks so it was only a matter of minutes before someone would barge in. Exiting through the front door after that mess wasn¡¯t an option either.


    I lobbed the most important pieces of gear out the window first, thanking my earlier forethought not to unpack. Far too soon I heard someone come up the stairs. I sniffed the air. Tempered-steel. Hefting a bag full of more fragile gear over my shoulder I hoisted myself out the window. Only the tiniest orange glow still tinted the horizon, sparing me from the debilitating weakness I would have had to endure had I been forced to do this half an hour earlier.


    A knock sounded on the door. Tempered-steel Ambi called my name. I cast one last glance at the stuff I was leaving behind, my crossbow by far the most expensive and hardest to replace. When the woman barged in I let myself drop, not even waiting to see if she had spotted me out of the window. Raking my bags off the ground I dashed into the forest

 1.36 – My Life…

    It was another mostly restless night. I waited for everything in town to quiet down. In the early hours of the morning I returned for Fern, only to discover that quiet did not mean that everyone was asleep. Unable to reclaim either my horse or the remainder of my gear without being spotted I was forced to leave empty-handed.


    When I finally allowed myself to relax, it was not hidden in a dark hole like I usually did. I laid myself down out in the open, where the first rays of the sun were guaranteed to keep me focused, and in the one place no one would ever expect to find me, on the roof of Onar¡¯s barn. Its top section was nearly flat, a clever way to create a larger interior space without building higher. Because of that it created the perfect hiding spot.


    Even as late as it was I could not calm down. Shae¡¯s haunted, traumatized expression chased me every time I closed my eyes. She had been so happy, bubbly, clingy even, and in the blink of an eye all of that had changed.


    Onar¡¯s fault!


    I had been doing something¡­ no¡­ achieving something I had never managed before. I had found a small community of people that maybe not trusted, but at least tolerated me. All of that had been lost now, and I doubted I could find something like it ever again. I doubted I would even be able to get out of this alive.


    I had let hope into my heart, I had allowed myself to believe for a short moment that things could be different for me. They could not. I was a monster, same as all the other monsters. All too soon now I would be hounded, hunted, cut down unceremoniously.


    Just like I do to the other monsters every single day.


    How many demons had I killed, how many monsters had I hunted that deserved a chance every bit as much as I did. I could not know, because I never paused to consider it. In the end I was just as bad, every bit as judgemental as Onar. Monsters and demons were evil, a plague that needed to be eradicated. That was simply how the world worked.


    I could not, should not fault Onar for the same prejudices I held, but I still did. It was his fault, his damn fault. It was because of him that I was in this mess, because of him that Shae had looked at me like that.


    The first rays of the sun found me beyond grumpy, and with new resolve. I would not let this stand. From my hiding spot up on the roof I observed, or let my nose and ears do the observing for me. After all, I did not need to see what people were doing, just know where they were.


    I waited patiently, letting some half-opportunities pass. Regardless of my sour mood, I dared not screw this up because I was impatient. Eventually, an opening presented itself. Onar was heading for the barn. Shae was all the way on the other side of their land, the barn¡¯s entrance out of sight for her.


    After last night the man was skittish. I could tell from the uncertain, nervous way he moved. Every so often he would stop, wait, then move on. Whenever he hesitated, I could tell it was because of me, because of how I had disappeared so suddenly in the middle of the night. I could almost taste the possibility eating away at him. What if I was still around¡­


    He repeated the same worried motions when he approached the barn door, slowing down, faltering, probably wondering if I might be hiding inside, or sneaking up on him from behind. Yet like all prey, Onar never looked up, never expected the threat to come from above.


    Right before he stepped inside the barn, I jumped down from the roof, landing right in front of him.


    He froze up, the taste of his sudden terror nearly drowning out everything else. Maybe he realized then. Maybe he became aware that even weakened by this sunny weather, I could have landed right on top of him and killed him before he even realized I was there.


    The man¡¯s shocked reaction was exactly what I had hoped for. Panic always ruined observation skills. Just to make sure, I enforced his panic with a murderous stare. That way, with a little luck he would be terrified enough that he wouldn¡¯t even notice the uncoordinated way I picked myself up from the ground.


    After several seconds of white-faced shock, of being captivated by my gaze, Onar scrambled back, swearing incoherently.


    A part of me was glad for his continued fear. Watching the man that had ruined everything for me cowering in shock was cathartic. Another part of me was excited. Terrified prey was the best of all.


    Wrenching my gaze away from his face, I ruthlessly shelved both sentiments. Neither would help me here, and I had already let my fury dominate my actions far too much. It was hard to keep the anger down, but I had to. The man was useless to me this terrified. I needed to do this calm and composed. All I had bottled up over the night wanted out so bad though.


    I took a deep, calming breath. ¡°You and I have things to discuss,¡± I declared, coloring my voice with a small, controlled tinge of wrath.


    I still needed that hint of anger, just a trickle of it, enough to add an extra edge of authenticity. Normal people couldn¡¯t flip from angry to impassive as fast as I could. The man was already convinced enough that I was a monster. I did not want to reinforce that notion more than I had to. It would only terrify him more, and that was the opposite of what I needed.


    Sampling the ever-changing flavor of his every emotion, I responded in kind. A shift of a muscle, a tilt of my head, a minute change in my posture, all of it were carefully calculated reactions to his mood. None of my manipulations were subtle, but I didn¡¯t need them to be. The only thing I needed here, was to push him past this fear.


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    I succeeded. A hint of the same fury he had displayed last night surfaced. The man brandished the first thing he could get his hands on in front of him. ¡°Get back!¡± he screamed, waving what was barely more than a twig.


    Aaah¡­ so cute.


    I shoved that annoying part of me down as well. Depreciating the prey, labeling it as adorable, pathetic, pointless, it was not helpful either. It did not matter how much I hated this man, how all of this was his fault. I was the rational one here, and one way or another, I would make this foolish prey see that.


    His anger, while better than fear, was not ideal either, so I pushed him past that emotion as well. ¡°Or what?¡± I wondered aloud, with a teasing grin on my lips.


    The small provocation was all Onar needed. Even with his useless little stick, he charged. I sidestepped and pulled the thing out of his hands as he barreled past. I reeled from even that little bit of exertion, but did not let it show. I could not show any kind of weakness now, no matter how much effort it took me to move like this, exposed to the sun.


    He stood there gasping, gaping at me and then his empty hands. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.


    Even more pitiful.


    This was the moment he would realize that he was the prey. That he was at my mercy. I waited, hoping for the first sign that he would stop acting, and start thinking.


    Frantically he searched his surroundings. Nowhere to run. No weapons in sight. No one was in shouting distance but his daughter.


    I kept waiting. Either he would become aware that he was still alive because, despite everything he assumed about me, I was not here to kill him. Or he would run away screaming, dragging his daughter into what he thought was an assault by a bloodthirsty monster.


    He going to risk her life again?


    I feared he might do so. He had been fiercely protective of Shae so far, right up until yesterday evening. Then his reckless actions had endangered her life. He should have broken off his charge the second I let go of her, should have prioritized getting her to safety over attacking me. Instead he had barreled past her, his own weapon mere inches from her face. His fear and hate of me had made him risk his own daughter¡¯s life. I needed to know if he would make that same mistake again.


    I had tried to run every possible way this could go through my mind. This was the point where I always got stuck. I could not predict how he would react past this point. From here on out, I was improvising.


    ¡°Fine. Stop playing games already and do it!¡± he spat eventually.


    Do what?


    He still think I¡¯m here to kill him?


    And this was the problem, this was what made it impossible for me to determine how he would react. Blinded by hate as he was, Onar was probably still assuming that I was here to kill him. Even now, when rationally, logically, I would gain no advantage from killing him, he still thought I would. It was a painful reminder, that no matter how hard I tried, I still could not understand human emotions.


    ¡°Do what? You¡¯re the one that tried to kill me!¡± I spat back.


    Not good. Not good. Got to calm down.


    I was pissed as all hell too, failing to keep my anger in check, and that was not a good way to go about this. I tried to push down my anger, see it from his side, but I was just so seething mad at this man.


    Onar fell to his knees, grabbed on to the legs of my trousers, and begged. ¡°Please, please, don¡¯t kill me, I¡¯ve got a daughter, oh gods, please don¡¯t harm her.¡±


    What?


    He¡¯s¡­ back to being terrified?


    This was the complete opposite of what I had been expecting. I was supposed to talk him down, desperately stop him from trying to kill me, prevent him from running away screaming. Instead, I was faced with a blubbering mess.


    Bewildered, and not knowing what else to try I got down on my knees in an attempt to make myself appear as small and non-threatening as possible. Grabbing his shoulders I forced him to look at me. ¡°Why are you so scared of me?¡± I begged.


    He glanced at me, at the fangs in my mouth, then down at my hands holding his shoulders. My left hand, claws poking through the ruined glove, holding him down. He shook me off and scrabbled back, whimpering in terror.


    Studying him, from this close, as he scrambled away from me, was enlightening. Blinking in surprise, I realized why he was so scared. It was such a perfectly rational fear, but even now I was still denying what I knew about myself. I myself was too terrified to admit these conflicting truths out loud.


    Thinks I¡¯m one of the monsters.


    But I¡¯m not a vampire!


    This was where things were breaking down between us. Confronting his fear meant confronting my own messes, my own denial. Sorting myself out while trying to fix someone else¡¯s irrational fear just wasn¡¯t working.


    How can I ever get this man to trust me, if I can¡¯t even admit such a simple truth to myself?


    I could not think of anything. Everything I might try would only be filtered through that same flawed perspective, that of his irrational fear. No matter what I did, he would always see it as a monster manipulating a whole town into liking it simply to further its own demented goals. There was no way I could ever break through that.


    No way.


    Except maybe one.


    He had not risked his daughter again. It might work. It was stupid. Suicidal. Idiotic. I had made so many of these retarded mistakes here, that one more of them would not matter. In the end, it was only one more stupid act in a long line of utterly boneheaded decisions.


    He feared me because, more than anything, he was powerless around me. The only way to fix that was to grant him that power, grant him power over the big, scary monster.


    Secret¡¯s out already in this town.


    Just a matter of time now before the Inquisition gets to me.


    Might as well happen this way.


    My life, in his hands.


    In hindsight, it did not compare to the stupid decisions I had made before. I just acted, without thinking.


    ¡°It¡¯s unnatural, me out here in the sun, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked him as I sat down. I fished underneath my shirt, pulling out the amulet by its cord. ¡°Truth is, I can¡¯t. I¡¯d die without this.¡± I looked at the amulet for a second, imagining the web of tiny runes etched into it that I could not see in the light of day, before pulling it over my head.


    My next words were a struggle. With the amulet removed from my skin the power of the sun tearing at my Metzus, eating at me as I tried to keep my body animated was overwhelming. Simply getting my tongue and mouth to move in the right ways required so much. I had only consumed the one fox two nights ago. I would run out soon.


    ¡°Give it back¡­ I live¡­ keep it¡­ die.¡± I stammered, then tossed the thing towards him with the last of my strength.


    My arm sank back down. The world tilted as I tried to remain sitting. My shoulder hit the dirt, then my head followed.


    I tried to twist my neck¡­ look his way¡­ Muscles¡­ wouldn¡¯t.


    Ugh.


    Stupid!


    Flesh sizzled¡­ drooped¡­ melted.


    I¡­ Metzus¡­ withered.


    Mistake.


    Decomposing.


    Ha¡¯ to¡­ keep think¡­ not let¡­


    The meat¡­ made sound¡­ words¡­ language¡­


    Wasn¡­ as ba¡­ las¡¯ti¡­


    wha¡­ dffr¡­

 1.37 – Can’t Save Me From This

    <div>


    Crawling up to a sitting position I surveyed the blood and carnage around me, wondering how it, or I, had gotten here. The last thing I remembered was¡­


    My life, his hands.


    After that, my mind was a whirlwind of sounds, scents, and experiences without meaning.


    Gone feral?


    I shuddered, letting my body fall back down to the ground. I lay like that for a couple of seconds, before flipping myself over to look up at the blurry outline of the canopy above and the sunlight filtering through.


    That was the most stupid, suicidal thing I had ever done.


    I clutched at my chest, feeling for the amulet.  It was still there, over instead of under my shirt, but it was still there.


    Shoving it back towards safety I tried to figure out how I had gotten from that¡­ to this. I had tossed Onar my amulet, had lost control of my body. He had been speaking, or maybe screaming, right before I had passed out.


    I tried, but I could not stitch those last moments back together. Too much of it was an incoherent mess, most of it was simply blank in my mind. One small detail stood out though. It was little more than a vague collection of sounds, but when I pieced those back together¡­


    ¡­ monster ¡­ kill Shae ¡­


    This part disturbed me greatly. Yet no matter how much I thought back on it, I could not recall any more.


    Aaah no.


    Please don¡¯t let me have killed Shae.


    All I really knew was that I had somehow gotten my amulet back. Either given back by Onar or¡­


    No!


    I dismissed the thought as soon as it had come up. I did not see myself capable of that. Then again¡­ I turned my head to the side, to my little collection of entrails and bones. I had not seen myself capable of this kind of wanton slaughter of forest wildlife either.


    I tasted my saliva to be sure, in search of any lingering hints that could tell me more about what I had snacked on. There was nothing unusual there, only the tiniest aftertaste of blood, some rabbit, maybe a bit of badger. But maybe people tasted the same as badger. I had no idea.


    Think about it later.


    I forced what little worry I felt down, embraced this strange, unnatural calmness enveloping me. I needed information first, needed to figure out what kind of trouble I was in. The panicking I could do later, when I was safe.


    Maybe I¡¯m in shock?


    Can I even? Experience shock?


    Pretend shock?


    I shelved that thought, forced myself back up to a sitting position, and patted down my clothes. The outfit I had gotten from Meg was dirty and stained, though not in as bad a state as I had expected. That hopefully meant that the carnage I had inflicted had been relatively subdued, maybe even mostly limited to this little clearing.


    The lack of gooey flesh stains probably meant I hadn¡¯t rotted too badly either before I had gotten the amulet back. I couldn¡¯t be certain though, whatever damage my body had suffered from the sun exposure had long since healed.


    My gloves were another matter entirely. I had already been down one glove after Shae¡¯s tackle-dive. Now the other one had it even worse. Without weapons, I had clearly resorted to other means of acquiring food.


    No weapons.


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    Right. I would need to collect those, and everything else I had left behind. At least my blade and my horse. I would not survive long without either of those. I had made a small cache in the forest for my blade and most of my other stuff before confronting Onar. I knew where that was. Now if only I knew where I was. I would need to climb in a tree for that, get a look around from a higher vantage point. Later. After dark. When I could actually see.


    Ha, I don¡¯t even know what day it is.


    Since all of the intelligent action involved things I did not want to think about, I wandered aimlessly through the forest. I stopped shortly after I had started because strolling aimlessly when I had no idea where I was, was reckless. I revised my wandering to backtracking my steps. But with no idea what kind of horrors I might be backtracking towards I stopped doing that as well.


    I clawed at a tree in an attempt to work off the desperation that was slowly seeping in through my unnatural calmness. It was like breaking a dam.


    I messed up.


    I really messed it up.


    I messed it up so, so bad!


    Whimpering I slunk down to the ground. Sitting with my back against a tree I braided and rebraided my hair until I was calm once more. Once I had my rising panic under control I picked up a stick and began whittling at it to pass the time.


    All too soon I realized I was doing so with my claws. Unnerved I took a couple of shuddering breaths, before tossing the stick as far as I could. With how light it was it landed only a pitiful distance away. Not wanting to be reminded of its presence and too drained to get up I shuffled over to the other side of the tree and began rebraiding my hair once more.


    Despite how much I tried not to, reflecting on my actions happened eventually. With so little to occupy myself with, and everything about my current situation to remind me, it was inevitable.


    Reflection did not bring me the clarity I had hoped for.


    I really, really messed it up.


    All messed up now.


    Aaaaaagh!


    No matter how much I tried, my thoughts were too much of a jumble. Raw emotion, debilitating guilt, pushed aside every attempt at rationality and reasoning. I could fix that so easily, turn that feeling part of me off. I did not dare, afraid of the consequences if I did. I got to my feet, and after ensuring I was truly alone out here, I screamed. Screamed and screamed and screamed, probably louder than I ever had. My voice did not get raw, my vocal cords did not wear out. They healed faster than I could damage them, and I screamed.


    It was cathartic.


    It scared away all wildlife for miles around. I could tell with such clarity and ease because I had never bothered to clamp down on my senses again. Not since¡­


    The bunkhouse?


    Onar¡¯s barn?


    Does it even matter?


    I found out I didn¡¯t care anymore. It was harrowing and strangely soothing at the same time. I could tell where the food was. I could tell where all the food was with such ease. Here was this part of me that was not human, this piece of me that I had shoved away deep, deep, deep. I was fine with it.


    Feeling slightly better after my outburst I returned to the clearing where I had ¡®woken up¡¯ and cleaned up the mess I had made there. Then I set out in search of water. With my nose leading the way I soon found what I assumed was the Maru, the river that ran past Birnstead. It was a point of reference, but I still had no idea where I was, didn¡¯t even know if I was upstream or downstream.


    I drank some water, freshened up, washed the worst of the grime out of my borrowed clothes.


    Washing.


    Been doing a lot of this lately.


    Should have become a washerwoman instead of a hunter.


    I surprised myself with my own joke.


    Here you go sir, all clean again. Don¡¯t mind the rips and tears, just a little incident with¡­ rats. Yes, rats. Not claws, just rats.


    I wanted to weep, still could not.


    I rested while my clothes dried, naked except for my underclothes. It was stupid dangerous. It did not matter. Without my gloves, there was no point in covering up. Maybe not even with them. I couldn¡¯t hide anymore, not with how I had exposed myself.


    I¡¯ll never be able to hide again.


    Not as Vale Bryce.


    I wondered if I would need a new name. I wondered if they were already hunting me. I wondered how long I had left until they found me. I wondered how long I had left to live.


    Weeks?


    Days?


    Hours?


    So much was out of my hands now. So many mistakes, so many stupid, idiotic choices. Stupid. So stupid, stupid, stupid. All I had done by returning to Birnstead was throw my life away. Yet still, even with all of these stupid mistakes, there were so many good memories I never wanted to give up.


    ¡°My sweet, sweet little guardian angel¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you eat babies?¡±


    ¡°Vale¡¯s going to teach me magic.¡±


    ¡°Good, and now the other one.¡±


    Aaaah¡­. Fuck!


    Fuck. Fuck. Damn. Fuck!


    I buried my face in the dirt because I could no longer stand to keep looking up at the sky. I did my best impression of tearful sobbing, because even tearless, going through the motions was better than doing nothing. And all throughout I could not stop thinking about how the dope had been gay for Limn.


    Aaaah¡­ it¡¯s all just soooo messed up.


    Why did it get this way? Why! Why! Why!


    ¡®m sorry dad. Really, really, truly¡­ sorry.


    Your little ¡®Tina¡¯s fucked it up. Don¡¯t think you can save me from this.


    So sorry.


    Help?

 1.38 – Force of Nature

    <div>


    I was sneaking into town because I needed my horse. At least that was how I was currently deluding myself. There was no good reason to be doing this in the middle of the day, that was how fast my reasoning broke down.


    Really just trying to get this over with as fast as I can.


    Another excuse. I had been observing for nearly an hour now, tracking all the foo¨C ¡­people by scent. There wasn¡¯t the slightest indication of what I had done several days ago. No one was overly worried, scared, or even talking about it. It was almost as if nothing had happened.


    It happened.


    Just don¡¯t know what I did.


    I still had not been able to figure out what had happened after I had tossed Onar my amulet. I had studiously avoided going anywhere near Onar¡¯s farm because I was terrified of what I might find there. That had even meant taking the long way around to get to the bunkhouse.


    Not going to keep wondering.


    Get horse. Get out.


    I dashed over from the treeline to the back of the bunkhouse the second I had a clear path. There were only two people out right now, Pepper-blood Reya and an unknown Jasmine-blood, male, healthy but definitely on the older side, probably didn¡¯t spend a lot of time outdoors.


    I nearly surprised myself with how much I could tell about people just by scent when I didn¡¯t smother my senses. I had always known, but just ignored the knowledge because confronting this part of me was painful. Yet now that I needed it to get my horse out, it almost made being blind in the sun tolerable.


    Almost.


    It filled me with a strange sense of disconnect, my heightened perception shifting my priorities in unnervingly liquid ways. Constantly needing to remind myself that I wasn¡¯t tracking an all-you-can-eat buffet, trying to single out the weakest prey, was tiring me out.


    Observing. Not tracking.


    Get horse. Not prey.


    Hugging the wall, I eked closer to the little overhang that served as a stable. There was a second horse in there now for some reason, probably belonging to the Jasmin-blooded newcomer. I assumed he might be the Academy doctor, simply because his scent was too cultured to be that of a hunter or an Inquisitor. Also, he and Pepper¨C ¡­Reya had just come from Uncle Tare¡¯s place.


    My leg hit something I wasn¡¯t expecting to be there. It clanged to the ground. I held back a string of curses and waited, hoping that no one had heard. In front, Reya asked the Jasmin-blood to go inside while she took care of something. Then the Pepper-blood scent trail edged around the building, heading my way.


    Aaaah¡­ come on!


    Just has to be Reya too.


    I only made a half-hearted attempt to hide under the overhang that served as a stable. I could have done so much better. Maybe I wanted to be caught, wanted to be put on the spot for all that I had done. The shade provided me just enough vision to see Reya round the corner and stomp my way with murderous calm.


    ¡°Reya¡­ wait¡­ I¡­¡± I inched as far back as I could while the furious woman advanced. I tried to back myself further into a corner, but with that second horse here now, things were a little more cramped.


    ¡°Shut it!¡± she barked as she reached for me.


    I tried to push her away, squirm out of her grasp, but with both of my gloves ruined, the claws on my hands exposed, I had few options that did not risk scratching her.


    Really can¡¯t hurt anyone else.


    Before I knew it she had an arm under my elbow and I was lifted straight off the ground and carried away like a bag of grain. I kicked and screamed but it was no use. Reya¡¯s hold was fiercer than I ever expected. Every time I had nearly squirmed out she simply adjusted her grip. Then she even placed a hand over my mouth to stop my screaming.


    ¡°Shut up!¡±


    I froze, with two of her fingers stuck between my lips, brushing against my fangs. I could chomp down, suck her dry before she would be able to react. My tongue darted out, tasting her skin, stoking a primal need deep within me.


    Shock at Reya¡¯s actions edged itself past the craving. I clamped my teeth together. Her hand on my mouth was the most unexpectedly effective way to shut me up I had ever experienced. That she did something like this startled me more than anything. She knew what I was, had to know what I was capable of, and yet she had still placed her hand over my mouth like it was nothing.


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    Why does she do this?


    Why isn¡¯t she the least bit scared?


    Who is this woman?


    Not just some town healer, that¡¯s for sure.


    Still preoccupied with Reya¡¯s far too near fingers, I was being carried through town. Upside down. It was disorienting. I could not see, so keeping the mental map of my surroundings straight during the day was already hard enough as it was. Now, with the ground facing the wrong way I soon lost track of where she was taking me entirely. I felt helpless. I hated being helpless. Desperate I tried to slither away once more.


    ¡°Gods above, you¡¯re a mess.¡± Reya shut down my latest attempt at getting out of her grip with enviable ease.


    She was dragging me past some kind of fence, through what I hoped was a small vegetable garden. I did not recognize any of it. She had taken me to a part of town I knew nothing about. Less than 10 houses and so blind I could still get lost in it. Even if I managed to squeeze out of her arms now, I doubted I would be able to get away, simply on account of not knowing which way to go.


    Reya pulled open a door and dragged me through. While my eyes adjusted, a little Mushroom-garlic-scented gremlin-snack looked up at me all confused. Then I was carried into the next room.


    Wait? Gremlin? Ari?


    Before I could figure that out I was dumped on the ground in front of another pair of feet. Not expecting to be dropped like this I rolled badly, suppressing a hiss of pain.


    Not hissing again, not in front of Meg.


    I twisted myself into an awkward backwards sitting position and looked up at a Lemongrass¨C ¡­ Meg that seemed every bit as confused as I was. She was holding the little nibble on one arm while struggling with a sheet of cloth in the other.


    ¡°Get her decent. And don¡¯t let her out, because then the doctor will want to see her,¡±  Reya addressed the Lemongrass-and-cotton-scented Meg. Then she shivered, rubbing her hands together. ¡°Gods above she¡¯s cold.¡±


    ¡®s why I don¡¯t just touch people.


    And room temperature¡¯s not that cold!


    No. No. My natural body temperature was not important right now. I needed to figure out what was going on. ¡°Wha-¨C¡± I tried.


    ¡°Ari! Go get your dad!¡± Meg cut me off by calling out to her daughter, then put her other kid down right next to me. ¡°Vale?¡± Then she straightened again and addressed Reya while she put away the cloth. ¡°What is going on?¡±


    ¡°Caught her trying to sneak out her horse. Just keep her here for now and get her sorted out. I¡¯ve got to get back to the doctor before someone accidentally tells him we¡¯re harboring a vampire.¡± Reya explained.


    Wait? Harboring?


    Does that still mean¡­


    I chewed my lower lip as I struggled to keep up with what was transpiring. The Jasmin-blood I had smelled accompanying Reya had been the doctor then. But harboring me¡­ Reya had told me she would rat me out if I made even a single misstep. I had clearly made several. Yet she was trying to keep me hidden from the doctor, even after what I had done¡­


    Still no idea what I¡¯ve done to Onar, but it can¡¯t have been anything good.


    What is going on?


    I tried to insert myself into whatever was transpiring. ¡°I can¨C¡±


    Reya lifted me off the ground by the collar of my shirt, single-handed, as if that was the most normal thing in the world, and slammed me against the wall. ¡°Explain?¡± She sneered. ¡°I doubt it.¡± She brought her face within inches of my own. ¡°I wonder girl, you heal fast but you do feel pain, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I nodded, too shocked to do anything else but comply with this woman. I had thought I was beginning to know Reya. I knew nothing at all.


    Why¡¯s she so strong?


    ¡°I put my neck on the line for you girl. And what do you do? Not. Even. A day!¡± Reya snarled. ¡°Don¡¯t push me. Or I might just find a knife and see how long I can keep carving you up.¡±


    Don¡¯t know what I did!


    I winced. It felt new, this show of weakness to a stronger predator. But it was honest, and even after all that had happened I still could not bring myself to lie to Reya again.


    Reya dropped me and turned back to Meg. ¡°This idiocy¡¯s gone on long enough. Tell her Meg, I¡¯ll send Rafe or Eryn over the second I can do so without the doctor growing suspicious.¡±


    Tell me what?


    No, asking about that wasn¡¯t important right now. Reya had just told Meg to tell me, so I would find out in a second. What mattered was that Reya was clearly desperate to keep me away from the doctor. I had to know why, before the Pepper-blooded avalanche stormed out.


    Had I done something in the healing that would make a doctor suspicious?


    ¡°What¡¯s the doctor want from me?¡± I choked out, picking myself up from the ground once more.


    ¡°Tell her? But¡­¡± Meg faltered, completely ignoring me.


    ¡°Divine¡¯s arse, I don¡¯t give a shit Meg. Tell her. I¡¯m done covering for Onar¡¯s ass.¡± Reya cut her off, already heading for the front door. Then, surprisingly, she addressed my question. ¡°Doctor wants to know where the hell we¡¯ve managed to snag a hunter that¡¯s this proficient at healing. Course we couldn¡¯t tell him you already left with your horse right sarding there.¡±


    Wait? Competent?


    I¡¯m not competent. I barely even remember what I did.


    Unless¡­


    ¡°I could explain?¡± I ventured.


    ¡°You? Talk to the doctor? Hah!¡± Reya scoffed, shook her head. Holding her temple she sighed deeply, before eyeing me with intent. ¡°Though I suppose¡­¡± She jabbed a finger my way. ¡°No vampire bullshit!¡±


    ¡®m not a vampire!


    ¡°No demon bullshit,¡± I agreed with her.


    Really, I¡¯ve hidden myself for years. I know what I¡¯m doing.


    It¡¯s you people that keep shouting vampire and demon at me all the time.


    ¡°Ugh. Fine!¡± Reya relented. ¡°Get her decent. Make sure she covers¡­¡± She gestured towards my claw-tipped hands before spitting out the last of her sentence. ¡°That!¡±


    Then Reya stormed out, leaving me alone with a shocked Meg and the um¡­ nibble¡­ um¡­ Trip?


    I had no idea what to do with myself after that. No clue what was going on. I really hoped Meg did know, though glancing up at her face it did not look like it.


    Guess at least Reya¡¯s this forceful to everyone?

 1.39 – Puppet on a String

    <div>


    Reya storming out did not make things better. I was alone now, alone with a distraught Meg that seemed just as incapable of handling this situation as I was. I crawled up against the wall, hugged my knees, and looked down at my feet. A shiver of discomfort rolled down my back.


    Meg fidgetted and paced, with the little nibble attempting to crawl after her but failing to keep up. Meg opened her mouth, then shook her head in a flurry of russet lemongrass panic.


    This was terrible. She was just a seamstress in a little village, far too innocent and pure to be dealing with me. It was clear I would have to take the initiative in this. Meg would not get anywhere if I did not lead. But I just did not know where to begin. I was alone with her, someone I trusted. This should have made it easier. It did not.


    Betrayed the trust she¡¯s placed in me.


    I¡¯m a monster.


    The little nibble, unable to reach his mother, let out a hesitant wail. This tiny little thing, so young and innocent to the horrors of the world, he sensed the unease in the room, and I saw him wrestle with it.  Failing to reach his mother, he tottered over to me, clung on to my arm, and tried to reach for my hands.


    It only made me hug my knees tighter still, claws cutting into my trousers. I could not let him grab on to my fingers. Without my gloves to protect against the sharpness of my claws he might cut himself.


    ¡°¡¯m sorry Meg, I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯ve done something horrible.¡± I bawled, and the nibble clinging to me bawled with me. I could not even stand to look up at the woman. I wanted to, but if I did she would see, she would notice my lack of tears.


    This little corner I was hiding in, it was not small enough. I wanted away, invisible, gone¡­


    Don¡¯t look at me!


    Don¡¯t look at me, I¡¯m a monster!


    Meg crouched down next to me, wrapped one arm around her kid and the other around my shoulder. She pulled me close until my face was buried in her bosom. ¡°Shhhh, it¡¯s okay child, it¡¯s okay,¡± she whispered as she stroked my hair. ¡°It¡¯s not all your fault.¡±


    I¡¯m not a kid, ¡®m a monster!


    Her lemongrass-cotton scent filled my nostrils. It was soothing, so soothing, almost as good as the gentle caress of her fingers through my hair. I screwed my eyes shut and shook my head, trying to break free from her comforting hold. I did not deserve this from her, did not deserve this kindness. Not after what I had done.


    ¡°Oh gods.¡± I heaved in Meg¡¯s arms, rubbed my nose against her sleeve. ¡°Did I kill someone? Please tell me I didn¡¯t kill someone?¡±


    Meg squeezed down on my shoulder as her heart skipped a beat. Then she loosened up her hold as her breathing sped up.


    Shock?


    Surprise?


    She held me tight again and her auburn curls tickled my ears. ¡°No child, no! You gave us a fright, that¡¯s all.¡±


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    I didn¡¯t kill anyone?


    I tried to push back and squeeze one of my arms in between hers. Her scent was such a jumbled mess that I had to get a look at her face. I needed to know what she meant.


    She seemed to get what I was trying to do. Loosening her grip she cupped my cheeks in her hands and tilted my head up at her. ¡°Suicide¡¯s not the answer child. Please don¡¯t do that when there¡¯s people that care for you.¡±


    I blinked.


    ¡­


    Suicide?


    I hadn¡¯t tried to kill myself¡­


    I had only¡­


    I¡­


    I¡­ could have died¡­


    I¡­


    ¡­


    Meg pulled me close again and rocked me gently side to side. ¡°Shush, shush child, it¡¯s okay.¡±


    Her chest was warm, the steady beating of her heart and the slow rise and fall of her chest a comforting presence. I focused on it, and slowly the dissonance between her rhythm and mine faded away, my heart beating in tune to hers. Caught up in that tender two-tone beat I allowed my thoughts to fade away.


    That was how Gery found us, my body nestled in Meg¡¯s comforting embrace. I only registered his arrival by the shifting in Meg¡¯s posture.


    I blinked, slowly becoming aware of a distant wetness near my elbow, where a little nibble was chewing and drooling on my sleeve. I shifted to look at him, extricated an arm to twirl my fingers through his little curls.


    Then, with a heavy grunt, my body was lifted off the ground, Meg carrying it over to the table and placing it down in a chair.


    It was awfully alone, that chair, with no one near me to cling to. Yet Meg busied herself in the kitchen and soon after I had a mug of milk to hold on to. That at least made things a little better. Only a little. Thoughts and reason returned and then I was drowning, my body an ocean away, nothing within reach no matter how far I extended my senses. Only the mug. Only the mug and the murmur of Meg and Gery¡¯s conversation.


    I pulled on the Metzus, half a world away a finger moved that was not me, then a hand, an arm, bringing a mug to lips thas were not mine. Milk flowed down a throat that I only felt from a distance. This puppet on a string of Metzus, it drank but it was not me.


    Never ever me.


    Just a corpse, a corpse that tried to kill itself.


    After a couple of sips I began to focus on Meg and Gery.


    ¡°¡­ ave told her when she asked. I¡¯d seen her do¡­ do¡­¡± Gery shook his head, strangely upset. ¡°I¡¯d seen it, I knew it¡¯d cause trouble and still¡­¡±


    Meg, having noticed that I was paying attention, turned towards my pathetic little shell. ¡°You doing okay child?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted. Somewhere in the distance, sitting around a table a puppet moved its tongue and lips, made words, and gave a little shake of its head, dancing to the strings of my Metzus. ¡°But I¡¯ll manage. Can¡¯t keep Reya waiting.¡±


    I looked up. I was not okay. I was never going to be okay again. Maybe I had never been okay to begin with. Always just a broken thing, pretending not to be. But I could pretend a little longer, until I was away from this place. It was not because I was broken that I should break the people around me.


    Still do break them.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to do that child. If you need some more time¡­¡± Meg reached out for the puppet¡¯s¨C


    No. My hand. It would have to be my hand. I had no hands but these. They would have to do. My puppet hands, my puppet body, my puppet face, all them perfect for pretending to be fine. And maybe, if I closed myself off just right, if I pretended not to feel the strings of my Metzus controlling the puppet, I could even imagine for a moment that this was really, really me.


    ¡°No¡­ no Meg. I¡¯ll be fine.¡± I pulled my hand back, out of her reach. I sequestered most of these troublesome thoughts and emotions to a distant corner of my self, where they would not bother me so much. With it, a tiny fraction of the calm focus of my true self washed over me. I steered things back to what Reya had really dumped me here for. ¡°Reya said you had something to share with me¡­ It is related to what I did, is it not?¡±


    Meg and Gery both looked at each other. Meg shot a quick glance my way, then nodded at her husband. Her husband nodded back and rubbed Meg¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°We do,¡± Gery admitted. ¡°Probably should have told you a long time ago.¡±

 1.40 – Secrets Best Kept Hidden

    <div>


    While I mulled over Gery¡¯s words, Meg was worrying over my outfit. I had never felt entirely comfortable with someone else fussing about with my clothes. It had been awkward for me when Meg had originally gifted me these clothes days ago, and I had struggled to keep her off me. I  only allowed her fussing this once because it was faster that way. We had already kept Reya and the Academy doctor waiting far too long.


    Meg and I were trying to achieve an amount of ¡®freshened up¡¯ that reflected not just the time spent getting ready, but also the time wasted on me being a horribly broken mess. Thankfully, that I had washed these clothes yesterday helped. The few cuts and tears caused by my claws and an unfortunate encounter with a pitchfork could easily be explained away by weeks spent in the wilderness. The doctor did not need to know that this outfit had been new only a couple of days ago.


    While I thought things over I straightened out my hair, the familiar motions calming me further. Leaving that dead cat for Onar to find really had been the dumbest thing I had ever done. Onar was apparently one of the more recent permanent inhabitants of this village, having arrived here eight years ago with his wife and daughter. He had been an utterly defeated, dispirited person back then, running away from it all, seeking a place as far away from civilization as he could.


    He¡¯d had a brother and a sister, both of them young and ambitious Inquisitors. Like so many other far too foolish Inquisitors, they had both died in Ostea, slaughtered by vampires. It had left scars that had taken a long time to heal. Then, two years ago he had lost his wife to sickness. Today his daughter was the only family he had left. And half a year ago that child of his had gotten ensnared in the net of a vampire, straight from his Ostean nightmares.


    Me.


    Stupid, stupid me, ripping open an old wound.


    Ostea. That little alone had been enough for me to surmise where his fear of me had come from. If someone else saw me walk around during the day, they might, if I was lucky, conclude I was not a vampire. But to Onar, who probably knew some of the things the Inquisition wanted kept quiet, who knew some things other people only considered to be rumors, it meant so much more.


    He must have suspected how I did it. I had merely thought he was surprised or shocked because what he thought was a vampire had conquered the sun. That might not be the case at all. He might have known all along that the vampire threat was no longer curbed by the light of the sun. And so every second I walked under the sun was just another reminder of the horrors inflicted on his siblings.


    Shae¡¯s behavior throughout had only made things worse as well.


    She must have known her dad would take it badly, right?


    Must have.


    Why did she keep this from me?


    Why does she antagonize her dad like this?


    No one else in this town had told me either. They had all kept this information from me. If only I had known he¡¯d had such bad experiences with vampires, then I would have never returned here.


    I could not even begin to imagine what my little stunt with my amulet must have done to the man. The monster from his worst nightmares, walking straight up to him and doing that. With that action, I must have confirmed every single secret his siblings had related to him in smuggled letters.


    I was honestly surprised he had not killed me there. That part still did not make any sense. There were far too many things I was still missing. Gery had only given me the abbreviated version. I was convinced I would get a more complete explanation soon, probably from Rafe or Reya.


    I really should have been told. Yet despite everyone withholding this from me, I found I could not blame people. While they had hidden this vital information from me, they had clearly also done the opposite. In fact, they were probably still doing it, keeping Onar away from the doctor, just so the world would not find out this town had harbored a vampire.


    Gery¡¯s explanation made one thing very, very clear to me. There was no future for me in this town. I had held out a sliver of hope, but with Onar here there never would be. I would have to leave as soon as I had talked to the doctor and sorted out whatever beef Reya still had with me.


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    Hah! Leave!


    If I spent as much effort on leaving as I did on thinking about it I¡¯d be in another continent by now.


    I would take it one step at a time. First, I would see that doctor. Then I would extricate myself from the clutches of this town. No matter how much I liked some of the people here, this situation was untenable. Me staying here longer than needed was seriously unhealthy, both for Onar and for Shae.


    Not to mention for me.


    Onar will report me to the Inquisition first chance he gets, no matter what anyone tells him.


    Gery returned with one of his spare sets of gloves. I stopped fretting, said my goodbyes to Meg and Gery, and set out for the bunkhouse. The sun was oppressive as always. It bearing down on me was yet another reminder of what I had done. This very same sun had seared the strings of Metzus that animated my puppet body when I¡¯d¨C


    When I¡¯d¡­


    I still couldn¡¯t do this. I could not face the Academy doctor like this. I needed to be composed for that, had to pretend that everything was fine. Just shoving some of my emotions to the side like I was doing right now would not be enough. I needed them gone entirely.


    With a bit more effort than usual, I did something I had not done in a very long time. I bundled up every last scrap of my emotions, packed them up in a little corner of my mind, and sealed it all off. Briefly, I feared how I would feel about this later. Then, I no longer did.


    Feelings never mattered anyway. The emotional anguish of the other me was pitiable. It was so weak, constantly forgetting that I was the predator here. I was the hunter, and I would do what I did best. Talking to the Academy doctor was nothing more than a special kind of hunt. Only the prey was a little more unusual. The prey was me getting out of this alive. The prey was the man remaining blissfully unaware of what was really going on. I fixed my sun-blind gaze on where I knew the door to the bunkhouse was and stalked forward.


    Stepping inside I cast a glance around the common room, assessed the situation I would face. Only one table was occupied, Pepper-blood Reya and the Jasmine-blood man were sitting at it.  He looked distinctly different than what I had assumed from his scent. The older man was nearly bald, with a sharp beard, goatee, bushy eyebrows, deep-set eyes, and wide ears. Only his outfit betrayed this man as more than just a common thug.


    That, and the smile that broke on his face the moment he noticed me. Just a single twist of his lips changed his entire countenance from gruff and distant to congenial. I pretended to be done in by his friendly smile as I approached their table.


    So far nothing betrayed that this man suspected anything about me. There wasn¡¯t much in terms of fear, wariness, or shock in his scent either. That was good. That meant he had no suspicions, or that he was even better at fooling me than Reya. Keeping the Pepper-blooded annoyance in mind, I resolved to not take any chances, no matter how much of a friendly front this man displayed.


    The Academy doctor kept looking at me as I approached, his smile breaking ever so slightly while his gaze lingered. I infused the barest hint of a nervous fidget in my posture as I pulled back a chair. He was tall. Even standing I was shorter than him sitting down. So when I took a seat across from him, it only made me all the more aware of how my feet dangled uselessly.


    Hidden behind my nervous act, I took a quick sidelong glance at the next table over, the one I had mutilated. It looked like someone had taken an axe to the side I had clawed open. Perhaps an attempt to hide my damage behind greater damage. At least it gave some credence to Reya¡¯s words that she was trying to hide me from this man.


    The doctor kept shooting weird glances my way. Under his penetrating gaze I must have looked so small. Further modeling my appearance based on his impression of me, I leaned even more into my child-hunter act. My toes failed to find the floor, no matter how hard I searched for it. I folded my arms and leaned forward on the table. I unfolded them again and straightened up because leaning forward only made me look smaller. Hopefully, my innocent look would make him drop his guard entirely.


    Reya¡¯s eyes momentarily found mine, probably having noticed my unusual awkwardness. It wasn¡¯t much of a glare, but her message was clear nonetheless. Do not play games. Do not antagonize. I toned down my act a little, and adopted a more relaxed and friendly facial expression.


    ¡°Hi, I¡¯m Vale,¡± I initiated, my voice laced with just the right amount of hesitation a child is supposed to present to an Academy-trained professional. ¡°The um¡­ hunter that took care of  Uncle Tare.¡±


    This was going to be fun. It was time to find out what this man really wanted. It was time to play this game, the game I always played. Unlike what this man thought, I was not just this frail puppet body he saw me as, but a demon hunter. If I played it right no one else would ever find out that those two words, demon hunter, that they went both ways.


    Sometimes I wondered, if maybe I enjoyed these kinds of games of wits a little too much. Not today. Today it would get me out of this slump.

 1.41 – Lessons in Embarrassment

    <div>


    ¡°You¡¯re younger than I expected,¡± the Academy doctor reciprocated my greeting with a quirky half-smile and this completely inappropriate statement.


    Aaaah!


    Not a kid!


    My suspicions had been right. All of his weird glances had been for how young I looked. I wanted to flip the table and storm out. Everyone. Every single one of them. Always this was the first thing out of their mouth. We had not even fully exchanged names yet and already the accusation that I was far too young for this had been voiced.


    I did not storm out. I did not stamp my feet, I did not glare, I did not even pout. Reya¡¯s gaze still lingered on me, warning me not to try anything, and so I behaved.


    Emotions¡­ leaking!


    Remember. Want him to think of me as a kid.


    I could not believe how fast the meek and childish exterior I had projected was taking over. I was supposed to be in control, have all of my emotions and feelings locked away. Somehow, greedily latching on to this tiniest of openings, they had all spilled out again. I could not have them distract me now. As fast as I could, I shuffled all of my inappropriate emotional turmoil away again.


    ¡°Yes, there are numerous desperate kids in this business,¡± I deflected. ¡°I suppose I could be counted as one of them.¡±


    The words were dangerously close to a flat-out lie. I was certain Reya would understand that this was better than admitting that I was a demon. Mostly certain. Her expression betrayed no additional displeasure, but I still did not trust my ability to read the woman.


    ¡°My apologies, that was a bit rude of me.¡± The doctor inclined his head. ¡°After the level of skill I have seen I was merely surprised at finding you so young, that is all.¡±


    ¡°Right, no problem,¡± I assured him, waving away any concern that his comments would have offended me. They had, but¡­ appearances.


    Appearances. By now, appearances were all I had left. I still felt offended by his remarks. That was a clear indication that I was doing a pitiable job of clamping down on my emotions. It had simply been so incredibly long since I had last tried to go without them that I just could not quite manage.


    I still could. I was certain I still could. But what would happen if I did?


    I did not think I had ever feared myself quite this way. Or maybe I feared more what I could lose. It was ¡­ what if I shoved all of these unwanted things in a drawer, and I closed it, and then when I looked inside it was all gone.


    No, it was better to leave that drawer open a crack, so that I could make sure that none of it disappeared.


    ¡°Reya informed me you wanted to talk to me,¡± I continued, breaking past my musings.


    ¡°Right, right.¡± The man gladly took my offer to put the topic aside. ¡°I¡¯m Garlon by the way, Garlon Wilde. I usually work from Raveny, in the Lord¡¯s service actually, but seeing as this was on the way back¡­¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ um¡­ right,¡± I fiddled with my hair, unsure of how to respond to him spilling half his life¡¯s story together with his name. The irrational rambling people always did never ceased to amaze me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been here since yesterday evening, actually,¡± the old man took my words as encouragement to continue. ¡°That girl, Nebby, gave me a bit of a tour of the town. Nice little place you¡¯ve all got here. Then went to check up on the patient for a bit, saw your work¡­¡±


    Who¡¯s Nebby?


    ¡°Yes¡­¡± I urged the man to continue. I still could not understand why certain people placed such importance on dancing around their questions for half an hour. If this counted as niceties, then I failed to see what was so nice about it. It was infuriating. Or maybe I was still as bad at formal social interactions as I had always been.


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    Really? Just get to the point already!


    I had subtly studied him throughout our interaction so far, trying to figure out what he wanted. So far he had not shown even the slightest hint of suspecting anything. I was beginning to believe that this man might really just want to talk, though I could not imagine what a doctor in the employ of a Lord would ever want to talk to me about. If you took away the other things I was really just a young hunter with some healing skills on the side.


    This why Reya let me talk to him?


    Because even she couldn¡¯t figure out why he wanted to see me?


    ¡°There really wasn¡¯t much left for me to do anymore, besides urge the man to stay in bed,¡± he continued. ¡°Reya here has told me how much of a close call it has been. He¡¯s really made a bit of a miraculous recovery. Anyway, this made me wonder child, how often have you amputated before this?¡±


    Finally!


    I opened my mouth to reply, then quickly checked myself. This was a test, a trick question. I could not embellish, could not make myself appear better than I was. When it came to these kinds of subjects, the man would see straight through me. It almost certainly meant I had messed up the amputation somehow. I was only about to get an earful for how much he had to work around my mess.


    ¡°I know the theory¡­¡± I ventured, speaking slowly and with frequent pauses to better gauge his reaction. ¡°Some of it¡­ but¡­ this was my first time attempting one?¡± I frowned. ¡°Was I wrong? I shouldn¡¯t have done it?¡±


    ¡°No, no, child, your swift action probably saved the man¡¯s life,¡± the man assured me. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ it shows that you are not used to doing this.¡±


    Not used to. A polite way to say I was terrible at it. I decided not to plaster a wince on my face. Then I reconsidered and acted one out anyway. It did not look like he was aware of my delay in facial expression.


    Reya however, she did notice. A subtle frown accentuated the spike of annoyance in her scent. I gave her the faintest shake of my head trying to reassure her.


    Sorry, sorry Reya, won¡¯t happen again.


    ¡°Did I mess it up?¡± I asked the doctor.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry so much girl, there was nothing that I couldn¡¯t fix up.¡± He reached over to pat my hand in reassurance.


    I quickly retracted it and shoved it under the table. The Academy doctor could not touch me, for the same reason I had not offered to shake hands when I introduced myself. Some skilled mages could sense my Metzus vessel by mere touch. I painted startled fear on my face for emphasis, hoping he would associate my reaction with a fear of being touched, and not with me not being human.


    ¡°You alright child?¡± he frowned.


    ¡°Yes, yes, just I¡­ My¡­¡± I acted out my frightful reaction.


    ¡°Are you certain child? If there is anything at all¡­ I am certain I could¡­ A girl of your age¡­¡± he faltered, eyes roving around, trying to find a place to look at that was not me or Reya. His heart rate accelerated, a confusing mix of emotions stirred the air around him, and a horrified blush colored his cheeks. Fishing in his coat he pulled out a cloth and started dabbing the sweat pooling on his forehead.


    What?


    I stared incredulously at the curious display. I did not get it. Something was happening, and I had no clue. Reya¡¯s fiery gaze told me she knew what was going on, her scent told me I was embarrassing her, yet I still did not get it.


    I replayed everything in my mind, over and over again. He had reached for my hand. I had retracted it. He was worried. I acted like a frightened child. Nothing unusual at all. The man had merely reached for my hand and I had acted¡­ like a frightened child?


    Oh no¡­


    Aaaaah¡­ It¡¯s not that! It¡¯s not!


    As soon as I caught on, I shook my head vigorously, not even bothering to keep the affront out of my expression. ¡°It¡¯s not, can we move on,¡± I stated. Vehemently. Not all girl hunters supplemented their income with¡­ that.


    Emotions were leaking again and this whole situation was so inappropriate I failed to reign them in. Why did this have to be a man? Why did he have to think that? Why did he feel the need to voice such a horribly insulting accusation? This what not the direction I had wanted his thoughts to go when I pulled back my hand. Meanwhile, Reya¡¯s gaze was burning a hole in my skull, and I could do nothing to explain to her why I had provoked this reaction from the doctor in a way that would not make him suspicious.


    ¡°Ah¡­ um¡­ right,¡± now the doctor flushed red in embarrassment, then floundered on in obvious discomfort. ¡°I was wondering if¡­ how¡­ um¡­ the way you performed the amputation. Yes, that. It was kind of um¡­¡±


    The way he struggled to regain his composure after my fierce denial was almost adorable. Especially since I had never imagined his thoughts would go that way. Yes, maybe he came from a more luxurious background, with completely different sensibilities regarding propriety. He still shouldn¡¯t have extrapolated like that. This was all his fault, not mine. I gestured at him with my hand, gave him a gentle smile, and hoped this was enough for him to drop his unease and continue.


    ¡°He should have died from that,¡± he eventually blurted out, breaking from his embarrassment.


    What?

 1.42 – Sense… Is Not Common

    I stared at the doctor in front of me, at the man that had told me that my attempt at amputation should have killed Uncle Tare. He had been utterly embarrassed only a second ago. Yes, I might have wanted him to cut the niceties and get to the point, but this was abrupt, even to my standards.


    Should have died?


    How? What?


    Uncle Tare was not dead, so how? I had no idea what this doctor was getting at. I had weaved a little Metzus, but surely he was not referring to that. As far as I knew it was impossible to detect the used weaves after the fact.


    What did I do after I magicked my brain out?


    ¡°How?¡± I stammered, incapable of voicing this any other way.


    Reya had warned me I was not supposed to draw any undue attention to my idiosyncrasies. This was the complete opposite of inconspicuous, and I did not even know what I had done wrong. I studiously avoided Reya¡¯s gaze. I was certain that if she could kick me under the table without the old man noticing she would punt me straight through the wall.


    ¡°The amount of magic control required to keep a man stable under those conditions is phenomenal child.¡± He reassured me with a smile. ¡°It should be¡­ well¡­ I was merely wondering how you managed? To believe I would find someone of such talent out here¡­¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ I¡­¡± I stalled.


    Assuming that he was speaking the truth, it was reassuring to know that he had not somehow detected the limited amount of Metzus channeling I had performed during my treatment of Uncle Tare. Yet I had no idea what to reply to this compliment. I knew my magic control was good, beyond good even. But that was merely the result of herculean effort, a desperate attempt to offset my near-complete lack of affinity to Tonaltus energy. It should not have been enough to be noticed like this. The only thing that came to mind was how he must have noticed that the amount of channeling performed did not match what a regular hunter should be capable of.


    ¡°Um¡­ layering?¡± I eventually confessed. It was the only possible explanation I could think of.  Years and years I had practiced on the technique. On seeing his confused look I elaborated. ¡°Sorry, I am not Academy trained so I do not know the proper terminology. When you create a weave, the power drain is relative to size and complexity, right? But when you¡­¡± I started tracing a pattern on the table to accompany my stunted explanation. ¡°¡­ then you can¡­ re-use¡­¡± I faltered.


    ¡°Ah, interweaving,¡± he rescued me, sudden interest apparent as he leaned forward. ¡°You do it supra-collapsed or interspersed?¡±


    ¡°Um¡­ sorry, I have no idea what those two terms mean.¡± I frowned. ¡°The way where you can repeat the process?¡±


    ¡°Twice!¡± he exclaimed, jumping up from his chair. ¡°You interweaved twice? As in a super-imposed tertiary structure?¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ yes?¡± I startled. I also had no clue what a superimposed tertiary structure was supposed to be.


    Isn¡¯t a weave just a weave?


    Perhaps this was not something the average person was capable of, especially someone as young as he probably thought I was.  I wisely chose to keep to myself that I could layer¡­ um¡­ interweave¡­ thrice instead of twice. Or that I did it blind, before pulling out the weave. I did not even want to know what kind of magical Academy vocabulary he would start spouting if I told him that. Besides, Reya stared at me like she was about to develop telepathic powers capable of throttling me from a distance.


    ¡°Could you show me?¡± he asked.


    It was the wrong thing for him to ask. Reya nearly shat herself at the prospect of me shitting out my intestines. She was still doing a commendable job of restraining her fury to her gaze, but I feared it would not be long before she would take hold of the table and tear it in half.


    I had to somehow indulge this man¡¯s curiosity while reassuring Reya before she was the one that drew his attention. All her previous glares at me had been subtle, only noticeable by me because I was looking for them. This reaction was not. The only reason the doctor had not noticed yet was his utterly inexplicable fascination with my weaving.


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    ¡°I can not do Tonaltus as there is nothing to heal here,¡± I explained. ¡°But I could do Atlus? Atlus is safe.¡±


    All of that was aimed at Reya, but worded in a way that the doctor would not notice. No healing because of the association Reya made with it. I even blinked slowly and deliberately right at the mention of the word safe. I prayed she would get the hint.


    Apparently she did, as she relaxed her posture.


    ¡°Alright. Great! Atlus is fine. Do Atlus,¡± the Academy doctor beamed.


    ¡°Right.¡± I suppressed a wince, his overly bubbly excitement was nothing if not annoying. ¡°I will need to focus for this, just a simple campfire spell, nothing that will burn this place down.¡±


    ¡°Take your time.¡± He gave me a reassuring bob of his head.


    I focused inwards, pulled out a strand of Atlus, and began weaving. It was weird doing it with a captive audience, but after years of my dad¡¯s tutoring I was used to being scrutinized. The biggest challenge was the simplicity of the spell weave itself. I had never layered this one before because it was literally just for the lighting of kindling. I did so anyway, and one ¡®superimposed tertiary structure¡¯ later I had a tiny flicker of flame that I snuffed out almost as soon as it had appeared.


    The Academy doctor studied me. The tiniest flutter in the pit of my stomach made me admit to myself that I might just be a little bit nervous.  This was a trained mage judging me, someone who had studied the craft for decades. He could not be compared to my usual circle of peers, bounty hunters, and sellswords who scraped by on tatters of third-hand magic ragweaves.


    When his scrutinizing lasted a little long I began to wonder if he could perhaps see through me simply by the way I had interweaved. If I could do it so effortlessly, then maybe it was not because I had trained so hard at it but because I was different. Gods knows I did not think like a person at times.


    What if I weave differently as well?


    What if he can tell?


    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± he eventually offered. ¡°Have you considered joining the Academy child? I¡¯d gladly sponsor someone as gifted as you.¡±


    Eeeeeeh?


    Yes! Yes! Yes!!!!


    I had no words. This was insane. Even Reya seemed absolutely flabbergasted at this sudden offer. Yes, it was probably based on the faulty assumption that I was a barely literate ten-year-old street urchin. But even then, out of anything I could have expected from this conversation, this was not even remotely on the list. I wanted to say yes. I had to say yes. To do anything else would be utterly foolish. Yet I could not. I was a demon. I could not go to the Academy. They would never accept something like me. And yes, they absolutely would find out eventually, no matter how good I was at hiding my true nature.


    Aaaah¡­ they¡¯d kill me on sight!


    ¡°No¡­ No, no, I¡¯m really not¨C I doubt the Academy would accept... someone poor like me.¡± I hastily brushed him off.


    ¡°But child, do not be so hasty, please think about it.¡± The old man seemed as put off by my refusal as I was by his offer.


    I wanted to rudely brush him off, to storm out. The Academy was the greatest institution of learning in the country, perhaps even the continent. To be granted a chance to study there was exceptional. A sponsorship meant going for free. One would have to be insane to deny when offered the chance. Yet I had no choice but to decline, not because I did not want to, but because I literally could not go. I wanted to scream, needed to absolutely and utterly destroy something in the most violent manner I could.


    This isn¡¯t fair!


    Why?


    Why can¡¯t I just be normal!


    Rarely had I been happier with the complete control I had over my body, enabling me to keep all of this bottled inside. Instead of throwing a tantrum I managed a very diplomatic ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    The man repeated his offer twice more. He assured me he would be here another night, that I had the remaining of the day and all of the night to think about it. I just needed to tell him in the morning. He gave me a way to contact him, any time, anywhere, in case I changed my mind.


    I thanked him again and again, told him I could not take him up on his offer, that I had some things to take care of first, that he would be the first I would contact should I reconsider. All of that were lies.


    Once he had retired to his room it was just me and Reya left. She gave me a frightful glare and held it for several seconds without speaking. Then she spread her hands out on the table and slowly pushed her chair back, standing up without breaking eye contact. ¡°Vaaaaaale¡­¡± she hissed, rounding on me.


    What did I do now?


    I thought I handled that well?


    It can¡¯t be my fault that he¡¯s so excited?


    Or is this about before?


    She¡¯s aware that the Academy doctor is upstairs and can hear her if she shouts, right?


    Reya grasped my shoulders and shook me violently. I expected a severe scolding, a long diatribe on all the tiny little suspicious things I had done during the conversation, a step-by-step recounting of every lie and every single moment she had wanted to throttle me.


    ¡°Divine¡¯s dung! Why did you refuse that?¡± she snapped in utter incredulity. ¡°Who refuses the sarding Academy!¡±


    I let her jostle me about a little. Even this shocked about my refusal she was still her usual brash, indignant self. When she had calmed down somewhat I took off one of my borrowed gloves, revealing the claws hidden underneath. Letting a rare amount of hurt manifest, both on my face and in my voice I whispered very quietly. ¡°Can¡¯t¡­¡±


    Letting my head hang I hoped she would hug me. She did not. A click of the tongue was all I got, then she grabbed my wrist and pulled me along. ¡°Come on, off to Rafe with you.¡±


    Reya shoved me through the door, into Rafe and Eryn¡¯s living quarters, then followed after me.

 1.43 – What I Can Never Have

    ¡°Take a seat girl,¡± Rafe droned right after I had entered, gesturing towards the table. ¡°It looks like we¡¯ve got a number of things to work out.¡±


    He did not look at me while he said that. Hunched over and with a much denser layer of stubble on his face, he paced from one end of the room to the other. The man seemed worn out, tired, run ragged.


    How long has he been doing that pacing?


    Instinctively I tasted the air. He smelled just the same as he looked. Frightened, vulnerable, worried, nervous. Even his heart rate was subtly accelerating.


    Scared of me?


    ¡°Right.¡± I nodded and took a seat. This was not the same calm and unbothered man I remembered from last time, and it worried me.


    Reya, entering after me, immediately addressed Rafe. ¡°Guess what, now she¡¯s also a magical prodigy.¡±


    I shook my head at that. Of course the Academy doctor would come to that conclusion. The man had thought I was a kid of maybe ten. My magical proficiencies were far less impressive when you knew I was actually 24.


    Rafe stopped pacing, eyed Reya, and scratched his chin. ¡°Of course she¡¯d be.¡± He sighed hard. ¡°And why am I always stuck doing this with you?¡±


    ¡°Because your wife¡¯s busy teaching the kids, and you can¡¯t keep pulling her away from that every time Vale here does a thing.¡± Reya closed the door behind her and took up position leaning against the wall. ¡°Though if you want I could always try my hand at the teaching.¡±


    ¡°Nevermind.¡± Rafe shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose, walked over to the table, and leaning on it stared down at me without speaking. If there was supposed to be a question hidden in there, I did not get it.


    Ah, he wants me to explain, doesn¡¯t he?


    Where do I even start?


    Uneasy myself, I glanced at Reya.


    With crossed arms, and still leaning against the wall, she gazed right past me, not meeting my eyes. It felt a lot like last time, a conversation between Rafe and me, with Reya as the mostly silent, judging witness. At least this time Rafe and I would be doing it sitting down instead. I hoped. Rafe had yet to take a seat.


    Finally, with a heavy sigh, Rafe sat down opposite me. ¡°I try hard for you girl, far harder than I ever should, knowing what you are.¡± He shook his head.


    You don¡¯t know what I am.


    I kept that thought to myself. Being petty and snide about it now would not help the situation.


    Never helps.


    They¡¯ll judge no matter what I do.


    ¡°I tried hard last winter, when calling in the Inquisition would have been the easy thing,¡± Rafe continued. ¡°And I¡¯m trying even harder now.¡±


    Eh?


    Damn.


    Should have thought of that.


    Wait? Why didn¡¯t he?


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you? The Inquisition?¡± I blinked in confusion, desperately attempting to hide the utter terror I felt creeping up on me. Keeping my emotions bottled up had been an utter failure so far. I did not dare stuff them away again. Friendly and vulnerable, I reminded myself instead, thinking back to the advice Reya had given me what now seemed like ages ago.


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    ¡°Long story.¡± Rafe sighed again.


    ¡°Gery and Meg told you like I asked them to?¡± Reya interrupted, addressing me with that question.


    ¡°About Onar?¡± I glanced up at Reya for confirmation. On her nod I gave a quick recounting of what they had told me.


    Rafe shot an occasional accusing stare at Reya at my retelling, but otherwise did not interrupt. When I was done Rafe leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose again. ¡°Not entirely accurate, but good enough for now. That¡¯s part of the reason why I didn¡¯t. Onar was a broken man when he got here girl, and calling in the Inquisition would only have opened up old wounds even more than what you already did with that cat.¡± He let go of his nose and looked me in the eyes. ¡°Besides, I was not going to send them after someone that had just saved four lives.¡±


    I stared at him, incredulous. Wanting to protect Onar, that I got. But actively covering for me, even after I had left, that was¡­


    Why?


    Why were so many people here like this?


    Could it really be that easy?


    Just be nice and they¡¯ll look the other way?


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡±  I broke eye contact. ¡°Not for me.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, seeing your latest stunt maybe I really shouldn¡¯t have,¡± he agreed. ¡°Care to tell me what that was about? Because right now all I¡¯ve had to go on was a frantic Onar screaming ¡®Oh gods, she wants me to kill her!¡¯ at me.¡±


    Wants me to kill her?


    I didn¡¯t¡­


    I did.


    I groaned, laid my head in my hands, and pulled at my hair, letting the complete lack of composure I felt leak into my mannerism.


    No, no, no¡­


    ¡°I think she¡¯s somehow convinced herself that gruesome outward displays of self-harm instill trust,¡± Reya commented dryly over my misery. ¡°Compounded by the absurd notion that being kind to those that hate your guts gets them to reciprocate.¡±


    ¡°I want her words, not yours Reya.¡± Rafe cut of her commentary with an angry glare.


    Reya clicked her tongue. ¡°As if she¡¯s ready to admit to that.¡±


    Rafe ignored her and studied me. I could see him staring at me through my fingers and the loose strands of hair covering my eyes. Patiently, he waited until I was ready. ¡°Girl?¡± he prompted after I finally looked up at him.


    ¡°I wanted him to trust me¡­¡± I whimpered.


    ¡°Trust you? How? By doing what?¡± he pushed me.


    My life in his hands.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t thinking!¡± I snapped at him, fangs bared. He jerked back in sudden fright.


    ¡°Too fast Rafe, give her more time.¡± Reya pushed off from the wall. Taking up position behind my chair she tapped my head to accentuate her next words. ¡°Keep it down a little child, we¡¯d rather not have the man in the room upstairs figure out what we¡¯re talking about.¡±


    Not a kid!


    Why! Why are you so nice to me now? You were just as mean before¡­


    ¡°Not a kid!¡± I sniffed, leaning into her hand for comfort.


    ¡°Sure you¡¯re not,¡± Reya snorted.


    ¡°I¡¯m not!¡± I insisted. ¡°I¡¯m 24!¡±


    ¡°Just keep telling yourself that.¡± Reya patted my head, directed one last glare at Rafe, then returned to her spot at the wall.


    ¡°Right then.¡± Rafe narrowed his eyes, scratched at the stubble on his chin, and appeared to brush the topic aside.


    I was immensely grateful for that. People¡¯s fixation on my appearance was grating even at the best of times, now that I was barely holding myself together it was just too much. I wished that I could smile at him, but I just could not manage it anymore, not right now. I was too drained to force emotions on my face that I did not feel.


    ¡°Getting back on track, what is it that you want from us girl?¡± Rafe asked. ¡°Because to be honest, I still do not get it.¡±


    Don¡¯t get it either.


    Should have left long ago.


    Should have never come back.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admitted.


    Rafe turned his eyes skywards. His exasperation made me realize that yes, maybe I did know.


    ¡°I want¡­ I want¡­¡± I hesitated a moment longer, unsure if I really wanted to voice this. In the end, I did not think I had a choice. My emotions decided for me. ¡°I want babysitting Ari and Trip. I want hugs and cooking with Shae. I want people to call me their sweet little angel. I want to be me!¡± I wailed.


    Rafe stared at me in shock.


    That only angered me more. They did not get to be shocked at my life. They did not get to be shocked for doing this to me, every single day. They took from me. All they ever did was take from me. Not because of who I was. Never because of who I was. No, it was like this because all they ever saw was what I was not.


    ¡°I want what I can never have!¡± I snarled these last words, pushed myself off from the table, and stood. ¡°I should leave. My presence is tearing your town apart.¡±

 1.44 – To The Wood Below

    I was stopped from leaving by Reya taking hold of my shoulders. I tried to shake her off. Instead I was pulled into a hold. Squirming madly, I tried to get free, but she would not let go of me.


    Her hands pushed down on my shoulders and pulled me closer. Her arms wrapped around me, squeezing me tighter and tighter, forcing the breath out of my lungs.


    We were indoors, with very little sunlight streaming in. I could fight back harder, so much harder. Breaking free should have been so easy. Once again I could not out of fear of hurting her.


    Only when I stopped struggling did Reya loosen her grip. The hug? It was hard to tell what it had been. It had felt like a chokehold, but had tasted like warmth and embarrassment. Still holding on to my shoulders, Reya kneeled down to my height. To my infuriatingly short height. Then she looked up and past me, at Rafe. They shared a look.


    ¡°It¡¯s as you thought then.¡± Rafe grimaced.


    ¡°Never would have believed it myself if Meg hadn¡¯t told me,¡± Reya acknowledged.


    A dark frown settled over Rafe¡¯s face as he took several slow, painful breaths. Then he swore loudly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Reya stressed. ¡°If I ever find the one that did this to her I¡¯m skinning them alive.¡±


    I studied Reya¡¯s face, trying to figure out what was transpiring. All of this was abnormal. I could not understand any of it. No one in this town was reacting the way they were supposed to. And now even Reya was hugging me. She barely tolerated me, was supposed to be abrasive, aggressive, spiteful. It made no sense.


    I changed my focus to Rafe. I had thought I had made progress in my understanding when Meg and Gery told me about Onar. But here was yet another undercurrent I did not get. Something was going on between Rafe, Reya, and Meg. Again there was an important piece of the social dynamic I was missing. Once more it revolved around me. Involving myself with people truly had been the absolute worst thing I had ever done.  I really did not get them anywhere near as well as I thought I did.


    Reya grabbed hold of my chin, forcing me to look at her once more. ¡°There¡¯s one thing I want to be very clear on Vale.¡± She tilted her head to follow my wavering eyes. ¡°We are not your enemies in this. Please allow us to explain before you run away again.¡±


    I stopped trying to look away and narrowed my eyes at her. ¡°I¡¯m tired of this Reya. So, so tired. Just let me grab my stuff and my horse and then I¡¯ll be out of your hair for good.¡±


    ¡°Is that really what you want, Vale?¡±


    ¡°What I want is irrelevant.¡± I sneered and slapped her hand away.


    ¡°What if it isn¡¯t?¡± Rafe took position next to Reya.


    I scoffed and¨C


    Why am I doing this?


    Why am I acting like such a petulant little brat?


    When did I become this much of a wreck?


    Pushing Reya to the side I returned to my chair and sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with then.¡±


    To my surprise, Reya took a seat as well. She clasped her hands together, looked up at the ceiling, then down again as her shoulders slumped. ¡°Onar always asked us to keep his past a secret. Doing so was a mistake. I should have told you the second you entrusted to me you weren¡¯t human.¡±


    Eh¡­ is that an apology?


    So it was not just an oversight that people had not told me about Onar¡¯s past. They had actively kept it from me. They had deliberately kept this vital fact hidden, even when the situation had long become untenable.


    A lie of omission is every bit still a lie Reya. So who is the liar now?


    ¡°And Eryn and me should have told you the second you bunked here after you healed Uncle Tare.¡± Rafe took a seat and added to the apologies. ¡°We should have told you again when you came back the day after. By then Reya here was¡­ somewhat vehement about it even. Every single time I thought we could smooth things over with Onar first, get him to see you as more than just a threat.¡±


    More apologies. I could hardly believe what I was hearing.


    ¡°You can¡¯t, can you?¡± I prompted. ¡°He¡¯ll never not see me as a threat, because his siblings told him things about Ostea that the Inquisition doesn¡¯t want people to know.¡±


    ¡°I thought I could manage. After all, the dangerous, blood-sucking, man-eating monster turned out to be sensible,¡± Rafe admitted.


    Reya snorted at the mention of sensible.


    Rafe just continued talking right over it. ¡°This friendly, considerate, caring, healing magic wielding, daylight-walking, monastery-sleeping child was making everyone else look bad.¡±


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    He did not get it. He still did not get it. Every single one of those things was a potential reason for Onar to fear me. All of those were things Ostean vampires did. He had no idea how bad things had gotten, no idea how utterly hopeless the situation there was. And that was with my second-hand knowledge being way older than Onar¡¯s.


    There was a very simple reason a posting in Ostea was permanent. If Inquisitors could come back, they could come back turned. Nothing was worse than that. Nothing was feared more than it spreading to here.


    I had no idea how Onar had gotten information about Ostea from his siblings. It should not have been possible. I was not even certain he had actually gotten that kind of information, but it was the only logical explanation. And I knew it was possible. My dad had gotten out. Where there was a way to smuggle people out of Ostea, there was always a way to smuggle out information as well.


    I was thinking of ways I could rebuke Rafe, make him see that his intended course of action was hopeless, when there was a knock on the door.


    Without waiting for permission a teenaged girl walked in. ¡°Hey, I was wondering if¡­¡± the surprisingly broad-shouldered girl interrupted us. Then her eyes found me. ¡°Oh, she is! Hey there, I¡¯m¨C¡±


    ¡°Nebby!¡± Reya pushed herself between the girl and me.


    I was certain I had heard that name before somewhere. I scowled, trying to recall where. Her Flint-lock-butterfly scent was entirely new to me, and her randomly popping in here, clearly looking for me was more than suspicious.


    ¡°Yep, that¡¯s me.¡± the Nebby girl grinned a crooked smile.


    ¡°Who told you?¡± Rafe leaned forward, glaring at her.


    ¡°Ah, my dad, who got it from Gery, who got it from A¨C¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Rafe shut her up with an outstretched palm, then turned to Reya.


    ¡°It¡¯s doing the rounds then.¡± Reya shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ll go talk to Onar¡­ hope he hasn¡¯t gotten the news from someone else already.¡± Then she addressed the girl. ¡°Nebby, we¡¯re leaving these two to their thing.¡±


    ¡°Awww, but I just got here,¡± the girl protested, pouting.


    ¡°Nebby!¡± Reya cautioned. ¡°I swear, with all this running around I¡¯m losing half my harvest over this mess.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Nebby relented. ¡°You guys are no fun at all. The one week something interesting happens, and I spent most of it stuck on the road with some old fart.¡±


    I had expected that Reya would have needed to drag the girl out, but she went along without any more protest.


    ¡°Reya,¡± Rafe cautioned the town healer, right when she was about to close the door behind her. ¡°Gently, please, when you talk to Onar?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try not to slit his throat.¡± Reya grimaced and slammed the door shut.


    ¡°That was¡­ a joke, right?¡± I asked Rafe, still eyeing the door Reya had just left through.


    ¡°It was.¡± Rafe scratched his chin. ¡°Girl ran a-¡­ it¡¯s taken a lot of work to get her straight, and even more to convince her she¡¯s not running this town. Don¡¯t judge her too harshly. I convinced her you¡¯d be fine and that she should take care of her stepmom that night. She¡¯s furious she wasn¡¯t there for you.¡±


    Without much prompting at all Rafe had confirmed some of my suspicions about Reya. She really was not just some town healer. There was a story there, I was certain of it. I would pursue it later. Deviating too far from the intent of this conversation would only get Rafe suspicious. I could not resist one final question though.


    ¡°Who was the girl?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Nebby, daughter of Krav and Rue,¡± Rafe explained. ¡°She¡¯s the one that went to Rivenston to get the doctor.¡±


    Ah, so that¡¯s where.


    Reya had told me they had sent someone to Rivenston. I had not made the connection because I had expected them to have sent someone older. This girl could not have been more than sixteen. That was technically adult, but sending her to Rivenston had still been a lot of responsibility for someone so young.


    Daughter of Krav and Rue. Or Moldy-leather and Jagged-stone-sky. I did not know if I liked that association much. I had only spoken with those two briefly that one evening Onar had burst in with his pitchfork. Moldy-leather had not been all that appreciative of me back then.


    ¡°So, yes, Onar,¡± Rafe picked up where we had left off. ¡°Shae actually made things way more difficult than I would have liked. She¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ she likes you a lot. She kept seeking you out, deliberately antagonizing her dad. I was with them the night Onar attacked you. I should have known what she was up to when she offered to go feed the pig. I didn¡¯t and¡­¡± He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that attack on you was my fault as well.¡±


    I was finally beginning to get an inkling of just how much trouble I had heaped on this man¡¯s shoulders. I had told him my presence was tearing his town apart. Only now did I understand how true that statement was. Some here cared for me, like Meg and Gery, others like Onar hated my guts.  Sometimes these people even lived in the same household, like Shae and Onar.


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± I extrapolated certain events. ¡°While I was taking care of the ahuizotl, Onar assembled a lynch mob, and Gery came to ask me about Uncle Tare. Neither of those two bothered to tell you what they were doing until it was too late.¡±


    I had pretty much asked Gery about this way back then, right after we had killed the fire, when we were heading back. He had deflected my question. I had not pressed, too preoccupied with the lynch mob I suspected would be waiting for us. How stupid of me. My real idiocy, I now saw, lay in all the little subtleties and interactions, all the little tells I had missed.


    ¡°Technically true,¡± Rafe confirmed my guess, scratched his chin. ¡°Though more of the blame for that rests with you girl. You didn¡¯t inform me either, and as far as I can tell that¡¯s not exactly according to hunter practice.¡±


    Ah¡­ oops.


    He was right. I should have informed him before I set out. As a hunter, you were supposed to inform whoever was in charge before doing an eradication this close to civilization. Wary of further confrontation I had neglected to, wrongfully assuming that at least one of the four people I had met at the waterside would spread the word.


    ¡°Sorry, you¡¯re right. I should have.¡± I hung my head.


    ¡°Even then it should have been manageable for me, if it weren¡¯t for the little present you¡¯d left on Onar¡¯s counter.¡± He frowned. ¡°It was kind of hard to argue against that kind of evidence.¡±


    ¡°Sorry? What?¡±


    What¡¯s he talking about?


    I didn¡¯t leave any evidence. I even took the beet.


    ¡°A nice set of rents in the kitchen countertop, kind of similar to the ones you left in my table.¡±


    Eh?


    What?


    No.


    I had not torn up Onar¡¯s counter. I had been super careful, especially because I had been without gloves. Right up until Shae had asked me¡­ Then I had clutched that beet like my life depended on it, claws cutting deep¡­


    All the way to the wood below?


    All the way¡­ to the wood below.


    ¡°Damn! I¡­ Just¡­ Damn.¡± I wanted to weep. ¡°I didn¡¯t even know.¡±

 1.45 – The Options Left Unmentioned

    <div>


    Chicken-broth Eryn, Rafe¡¯s wife, returned somewhere during our talk. With her wispy grey hair escaping her braids she looked a little worn out. She glanced around the room, deliberately looking past me, glared at her husband with a heavy sigh, then trudged past us to a back room.


    Rafe, suddenly tasting guilty, cut things short. He disappeared into the same room, and several minutes of hushed, angry dispute followed. When he returned he only exchanged a couple of quick words with me. Then he darted off, to talk with everyone else, to argue and plead my case.


    ¡°You alright child? Need anything?¡± A weary Eryn shuffled back into the room, and when I did not respond she busied herself behind me.


    Rafe¡¯s last words, right before he went out, they had shaken me more than anything said before. Up to then, all I had been doing was reacting. I had not thought ahead. I had not thought at all. I had just assumed, hoped that things could magically get better by talking. They could not. They would not. It was only a matter of time now.


    Days at worst.


    A month or two at best.


    I had wondered before how long I would have before I was hunted down and killed, and now I knew. That was what Rafe had told me. He could give me this, a little respite. He had even sounded certain that he could convince Onar. But for all he risked for me, he would never be able to stop the inevitable end.


    Unlike last winter, this town now had seasonal workers, both as loggers like Limn, and as extra farmhands. Rafe held little sway over those people. No matter how hard he tried, my secret would leak eventually, fall at the latest. Come fall, I would be hunted, and killed, no matter how hard Rafe pleaded my case. Regardless of what I or anyone else said or did, my kind was not tolerated here, not in the Thysa regency, and nowhere else on the continent.


    I had tried, I had tried so hard. For years I had done everything I could to avoid this outcome, and I had failed. Lured back here, drawn to stupid actions by my own fleeting sense of longing. There were only two possible outcomes now. I could wait and die, or spend the rest of my life on the run.


    No, I was lying to myself again. There were other options. I had even considered them, just for a second. That I had done so, even if for only such a short amount of time, was yet another reminder that I was not like them. That even after I had dismissed the options, I still considered them options at all, was even more damning.


    Couldn¡¯t.


    Wouldn¡¯t.


    Not turning this into a bloodbath. Not ever.


    I shivered in my seat, that was how much I scared myself. Eryn, perhaps noticing my discomfort, rapped the table to get my attention. ¡°Come. Help.¡±


    ¡°No. No. I should¡­¡±


    Run?


    Wait here until Rafe gets back?


    Yes, I had no idea where I was going with that. My words trailed off and I just looked up at the old woman in confusion.


    ¡°What you should be doing, is helping me,¡± she told me with a wry smile. ¡°I gave my husband a list. A simple, simple list of tasks, but then you came along as a distraction, and now I¡¯ve got to do it all myself again.¡±


    She wants me to¡­


    Help?


    With what?


    I looked behind me, at what Eryn had been working on. She had fetched all kinds of ingredients and the fire had fresh coals.


    Oh no¡­


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    ¡°I¡¯ve got less than two hours, a city bigwig who¡¯ll want something fancy instead of the usual fare, and an uncooperative husband,¡± she snapped. Then she started listing names of all kinds of¡­ I think spices? She pointed in the general direction of the ingredient pile and told me to get grinding.


    I refused. Vehemently. I was not being roped into assisting her in the kitchen. Once with Shae had been enough. I was not repeating that embarrassment. Not ever. My struggle with mortar and pestle was not because I was helping out. Not at all. It was entirely accidental, completely unrelated to the cooking Eryn was doing.


    Yeh, still can¡¯t lie to myself.


    At least she wasn¡¯t asking me to take off my gloves.


    And I had not just spilled half of my freshly ground spices on the floor.


    ¡°So, four regular lodgers, Krav, Rue, and Nebby, and our new guest makes ten. You¡¯re eating as well?¡± Eryn asked while surveying the mess I was making of things.


    ¡°No, no, I¡¯ll be¡­ having dinner with Meg?¡± I replied, only catching my own lie after it had been uttered.


    Sorry Reya. Doing it again.


    I was not eating with these people. Absolutely not. Normal food did not agree with me. I was not going to pretend to enjoy it for their sake. Especially not with eight other people watching. Ten if it included Eryn and Rafe. I would not be having dinner with Meg either. That was just an excuse so I would not have to explain myself.


    Eryn gave me a doubtful look, then cast her eyes up to the rack hanging above the counter. ¡°Clean that up and start over. Fresh spices up there.¡±


    I glanced up. There were dried spices hanging there, completely out of reach for me. I turned back to Eryn to complain. She was busy doing her own thing, a sadistic grin plastered on her face.


    She¡¯s doing this on purpose?


    I pulled over a chair. Standing on it I could reach. I was slightly taller than her like this so I used the opportunity the chair provided me to glare down at her. There was the tiniest tilt of her head that told me she saw. Then the vicious twinkle in her eye broke through in the form of a light chuckle.


    ¡°This is funny to you?¡± I asserted.


    ¡°Yes?¡± she admitted plainly, still not entirely looking my way.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t!¡± I jumped down and shoved the chair back in its place under the table with far too much force.


    ¡°Well¡­ you¡¯re no longer a pitiable, moping heap of misery.¡± She smirked. ¡°That¡¯s a win for me.¡±


    Aaaaagh!


    I threw my hands up in disgust. This woman was impossible. Utterly impossible. Though after a couple of minutes to cool my head, even I had to admit that her strategy had been effective. The distraction of both the cooking and her taunts had been enough to momentarily take my mind off things.


    I was even emoting openly, no longer hiding behind a mask of my puppetry. I had been doing a lot of that lately. Showing my true emotions was dangerous. It left me open, unprotected, my weaknesses plain for people to see and exploit, as Eryn had done just now.


    No.


    I shook my head. I was not going to let myself slide back into overthinking just yet. I would have plenty of time for that in the coming hours and days. Eryn had goaded me out of lethargy. I was not going to let her effort go to waste. For now, I would enjoy this moment.


    By the time most of the easy preparations were done Rafe was back. He led me out, to the riverside, to where Limn, Gery, and the other loggers were working. With a shove, he pushed me towards them. ¡°Go, interact. Show them you¡¯re more than just claw marks on a table.¡±


    Without Gery there I would never have gone along with it. But the carpenter¡¯s comforting presence gave me the time I needed to think this through instead of just running away. Rafe was right. No matter how much I loathed this, I needed to do it. For a small effort, I could get more people here to see me as more than just another monster. More allies in this town might buy me extra time before I was reported.


    ¡°Any place I could sit?¡± I asked, addressing Gery specifically. I was not going to do this standing up. Asking them if I could sit down instead of just taking a seat meant deferring to them as well. It placed them in charge, which would make me appear less threatening.


    Didn¡¯t I force myself into their conversation just days ago?


    Talk about a change in perspective.


    Weird.


    Gery pointed me towards the trunk of a felled tree. I happily took the offered spot. That was the other reason I had asked. It saved me from the embarrassment of blindly bumbling about in search of a place to sit. These people did not need to know how blind I was in the sun.


    Once I had found my spot Rafe excused himself again. He had to rescue Reya from Onar. Or maybe it was the other way around. Reya was probably forceful enough to handle Onar with ease.


    Despite how much I disliked being left here by Rafe, I did not envy him one bit, needing to deal with both Reya and Onar. Horrid as the prospect of being surrounded by all these people talking about the monster in town was, it was still better than facing Onar and Shae again.

 1.46 – Easy As Rats

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    I lay nestled on the trunk of a felled tree, one leg swinging lazily. The remains of cut-off branches pinched and poked my back. I ignored those. The infernal sun seared my face. I ignored that as well. Ten or so people stood around me, talking over me, about me. I ignored most of their chatter as well, only providing the bare minimum of commentary to remain a part of the conversation.


    Despite Gery¡¯s best attempts at speaking in my defense, not all of the talk was friendly. I should have probably helped him, defended myself even a little, but I really could not bring up the effort to care about what the antagonistic people thought anymore. Those that hated me, would keep doing so, no matter how I reacted. Those that wanted to kill me, either they would try, or they would not. It was as simple as that.


    So ignoring the most spiteful remarks, I focused my efforts on those undecided. I probably was not doing a very good job at it. All my life had been spent pretending I was human. This required me to admit to people that I was not.


    And once I had taken that first step, then I still had to convince them that I was no different than them. I did not even know where to start with that. I was different. I was dangerous. I just needed to stop bothering, stop caring, and then I could kill everyone here without batting an eye.


    I had promised myself I never would. Harming people would go against everything I spent my life working towards. Not to mention that it was rarely the logical thing to do. I did not think I would ever understand how the slightest emotion got people so fascinated with violent solutions.


    That difference between us is what made me so dangerous to them. They could only kill in anger. I could do it on a whim. If I wanted to, then I could, easy as killing rats.


    Somehow knowing that about myself made all this feel like an even bigger lie than just pretending to be human. My little hunter-girl fa?ade had been so easy. I had never needed to pretend to be cute and innocent, people just assumed. Now I could not leverage that assumption any longer. Now I needed to tell people that I was harmless, even though I knew I was not. It made me regret being pushed to undergo this torture already.


    Around me, the conversation was slowly shifting away from all the terrifying things about me, and towards how awesome it was that I had claws that could slice through hardwood like it was butter, amongst various other idiocies.


    ¡°Nowhere near as awesome when you¡¯re stuck with them all your life,¡± I commented in a bored attempt at remaining at least a small part of the conversation, instead of merely its subject. I did not even bother figuring out who had begun making these kinds of absurd statements.


    ¡®s nothing cool about being me.


    The worst of it was, all of these people commenting so openly about all of this, it was risky. The doctor was still there in the bunkhouse, barely a hundred paces from here. That man was not supposed to know what everyone else knew. Sure, all this talk had started out careful, everyone masking their words, only hinting at things in the vaguest of allusions, but as is usual with these things, the larger the crowd grew, the stupider it got.


    Limn sat down on the tree trunk, right next to me.


    His action elicited a gasp from some Chestnut-blood woman I did not know, and no longer cared to get to know after that startled outburst.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been more quiet than usual.¡± Limn ignored the startled reaction as well. He leaned back a little, looking up at the sky.


    ¡°As if you would know what¡¯s usual for me.¡± I shook my head, not bothering to look at the man¡¯s face. It was not as if I could see his face properly anyway.


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    ¡°Point,¡± he conceded, shrugging off my barbed remark as if it had not been uttered at all. ¡°Still, it looked like you could use someone that sat with you, instead of standing in a circle around you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I guess. Really is no fun having everyone talk about you as if you¡¯re not present.¡±


    Limn hummed in assent.


    We sat in silence for a while after that. My perspective really had changed, if I considered Limn sitting with me a positive. The long-haired logger had been so easily swayed by Onar¡¯s words. I had resented him for it, had only begrudgingly accepted his apology. Right now, he was the first besides Gery that so openly chose my side though, and I could not afford to be picky with my allies.


    ¡°Onar showed you some things, huh?¡± I repeated his words from days ago with a slight chuckle. That had been how he had explained his sudden fear of me in his apology. He had not elaborated then, and I had postponed prying out of fear of ruining the fragile truce. Now that I knew exactly how much damage I had done to Onar¡¯s countertop I had a better understanding of how Shae¡¯s dad had managed to turn so many people against me so quickly.


    ¡°Ah, someone told you then?¡± He fidgeted. ¡°Was more impressive seeing it happen in person though.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Rafe did. And please don¡¯t describe it like that.¡± I groaned. ¡°Ruining furniture like that is embarrassing enough as it is without the commentary.¡±


    ¡°Embarrassing enough to repeat it with Rafe¡¯s table?¡± he quipped.


    Ugh.


    Friendly people are the worst!


    I tried to nudge him with an elbow but he twisted out of reach.


    While we had been talking three more people had joined the throng. It clearly was not just Reya that was being kept from her farm work by my presence in this town. Apparently, everyone here had decided that there was no more work that needed doing. At all. By now I did not even know nearly half of the people standing here.


    I let my nose make a mental tally. Limn¡¯s group was four people. Moldy-leather Krav, Rue, and Gery were three more. The other seven I truly did not know. Wait. No. That Flint-lock-butterfly one was Nebby. And those other three people, those were the other ones I had fished out of the river last winter. There were only three people I did not recognize.


    Scary.


    I think I know half the people in town by now.


    I twisted to look in the direction where I had smelled Nebby. She had burst in looking for me earlier at Rafe¡¯s place, so I was confused as to why she had not yet sought me out now. She was standing in a group of five, two unknowns, Moldy-leather and Rue.


    Ah, of course.


    Krav, her dad, doesn¡¯t like me.


    ¡¯s why she¡¯s hesitant.


    As if she noticed me looking Nebby broke away and bounded over. With a leap she sat astride the trunk, at my feet. ¡°Yo!¡± She scooted forward, pushing my legs aside as she went. ¡°I heard you helped Eryn out in the kitchen. Does that mean you¡¯re taking my job?¡±


    What?


    ¡°I¡­ What? I¡¯m not¨C¡±


    ¡°Please tell me you are?¡± she pleaded, leaning forward and placing her hands on both sides of my torso. ¡°It¡¯s so, soooo, boring!¡±


    What?


    Every single kid in this town is utterly insane.


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what your job is.¡± I sighed and gave Limn a pleading look. ¡°Help?¡±


    ¡°Against Nebby? Oh no, you¡¯re all on your own there.¡± The traitor shook his head and walked away, leaving me with this new nuisance. I followed him with my eyes, begging him to come back.


    That was how my attention turned towards two more newcomers, one of them hobbling over, supported by the other. The huge bulk of Uncle Tare, only barely being held up by his wife.


    I swung a leg over Nebby¡¯s head and rushed to their side, ignoring the startled reaction my sudden action caused.


    Instead of helping I nearly crashed to the ground in front of Uncle Tare. Stupid sun. Stupid puppet body. Angry at the reminder of my uncoordinated weakness I yanked hard on the strings of Metzus animating my body, no longer caring to be conservative in the amount of energy I burned.


    Soon another woman rushed to my aid as well, and between the three of us we carried Uncle Tare to where he could sit.


    ¡°Are you sure you should be up and about?¡± I asked the blacksmith after he had regained his breath.


    ¡°No,¡± he admitted. ¡°But after I heard you were out here I couldn¡¯t just leave you to fend for yourself now, could I. Had to make sure my boys treat my little guardian angel right.¡± He surveyed the crowd and raised his voice. ¡°You hear that kids, any one of you talks bad about my sweet little guardian angel, you¡¯re dealing with me.¡±


    Then he patted my head for emphasis.


    Aaaah¡­ not a kid!


    Stop treating me like one.


    I smirked. He had only patted my head, that was implicit. But he had very explicitly called everyone else a kid. Oh, saving this guy was so worth it.


    Forget all those other options. I could run or die for this.

 1.47 – Understanding

    ¡°Shhh Ari, let her sleep. Poor thing looks like she can use it.¡±


    The pressure on my leg abated, and the tiny pitter-patter of Mushroom-gremlin feet faded away towards the living quarters. I had never been asleep, but I clutched the blanket, rolled over, and snuggled myself deeply in its comforting embrace all the same.


    Everyone was already up. That was unusual for me. I was not one for lounging around in the morning, and even two decades of pretend-sleeping in order to fit in had not managed to change that. The floor wasn¡¯t even a comfortable place to relax on, but I was still going to enjoy every last minute of this peaceful perfection. Before my thoughts started spinning again and I would have to confront my life.


    Ah.


    Jinxed it.


    As unexpectedly amazing as this was, lying here in Meg and Gery¡¯s place without a care in the world, it was only temporary. I could not ignore the choice I had to make any longer. My secret would leak to the rest of the world sooner or later. Either I could leave now, get a head start on the Inquisition. Or I could stay a little longer, enjoy the company of people that accepted me for as long as I dared, at the cost of some of that head start.


    I doubted there would be much difference in the outcome, no matter what I chose. The Inquisition would not tolerate a¡­ a vampire here. I would be hunted, chased with everything they could bring to bear. I would die no matter what I chose. It only made this choice all the harder. My life was already over. It was everyone else¡¯s I was toying with now. Despite how professional the Inquisition usually was, accidents did happen to people that associated with vampires.


    I sighed. I was well and truly awake now, and there was no more point in trying to pretend otherwise.


    ¡°Come, sit, eat.¡± Meg pulled back a chair and patted its seat the second I walked in on their breakfast.


    I was torn. I was really, really, torn. I did not want to ruin this wholesome family moment. I also did not want to subject myself to the vile taste of normal human food. It wasn¡¯t their fault. This was all me again, me and my stupid body. No matter what I tried, it would stubbornly keep telling me that whatever food they heaped on my plate, that it really wasn¡¯t edible.


    Last night I had avoided these embarrassing moments with a whole charade, telling everyone that I was staying over for dinner with someone else. I was honestly surprised that no one had found out yet by now. Getting away with that kind of thing for breakfast was not going to work.


    In the end, wholesome won out. I could not bail on Meg and Gery here. I would simply have to tolerate the terrible taste and inevitable nausea for their sake. They deserved as much.


    The wholesome, perfect breakfast did not last long. A slice of bread, wet with drool, sailed through the air and ended up right next to my plate. The nibble giggled as if catapulting his food across the room was the funniest thing in the world.


    Meg merely shook her head and took her fifth stab at keeping the nibble¡¯s chin drool-free in just as many minutes.


    I glared at the soggy mess as I took it in between two gloved fingers and moved it a little further from my own meal. Then I blanched as, barely sparing it a glance, Gery scooped the bedrooled loaf into his mouth.


    Ari, seeing the look on my face, nearly spat out her drink. Meg¡¯s face darkened but instead of a scolding a titter escaped her lips. Ari chortled. The nibble giggled some more and slapped the table. When Gery bellowed out a laugh even I could not stop myself from joining in.


    We all stifled our laughter and resumed eating. Occasionally, in between bites, I shot a glance at Meg. I still hadn¡¯t gotten an answer for that mysterious exchange that had happened between Rafe and Reya right after I nearly walked out in the middle of my talk with them. That very unnerving change in Reya, from confrontational to caring, it had somehow been related to Meg.


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    Too weird.


    Or no, I did know. I merely disliked the answer enough to pretend I had not gotten one. They thought I had been turned, they thought a vampire had done this to me, a poor, defenseless ten-year-old girl. Reya sympathized now, because she had stopped seeing a friendly demon, and had started treating me as a traumatized child.


    Not a kid!


    In the end, I did not see much difference in the way Meg treated me, so I decided not to push the issue. The fastest way to convince these people that I was a responsible, 24-year-old adult was by continuing to behave like one.


    Breakfast over, I collected the few meager possessions I had strewn across the floor, and put on my new clothes. Meg really had come through. She had created me a tailor-made outfit, one that fit instead of one that I pretended fit.


    I counted out coins, both for the clothes she had tailored me, as for those I had borrowed and that were now in an unreturnable state. Meg protested loudly at my payment.  I kept placing coins on her table until her protests turned from polite refusal to genuine affront. I had promised to pay her right from the start, and it was past time I made good on that promise.


    ¡°You really are leaving now, aren¡¯t you?¡± Meg asked after she swiped the payment off the table.


    ¡°I suppose so.¡± I nodded.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to leave, you know?¡± Meg tried one final time.


    Aaaah¡­ don¡¯t make it harder on me.


    ¡®s hard enough as it is


    ¡°I¡¯m a demon hunter Meg, what am I going to do here?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Those ahuizotl were this town¡¯s demon-quota for the next five years. There is no job for me here but being a burden on you all.¡±


    ¡°We could find you something?¡±


    Like what, washerwoman?


    Nebby¡¯s job?


    I smirked.


    ¡°What¡¯s that smile?¡± Meg chuckled.


    Aaaah¡­ she saw that, didn¡¯t she.


    ¡°Just realized I¡¯ve done more washing of clothes in my week here than I¡¯ve done in the past two months.¡±


    <hr>


    The Academy doctor had made one final attempt at convincing me. To his disappointment, I had kept up my refusal. After he left, Rafe and Eryn turned to me. Before I left this town there was one final thing I needed to do.


    I had discussed it with Rafe, and while we both agreed that it was not likely to have much of an effect, it was something I felt had to be done. It was my mess, and I could not keep pushing this responsibility to Rafe and Reya.


    ¡°You ready?¡± Rafe asked me.


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted, looking off in the distance.


    ¡°Hah. Me neither,¡± he echoed, scratching at the stubble on his chin as he shook his head. ¡°You don¡¯t need to do this, you know.¡±


    ¡°No Rafe, I do.¡± I sighed. ¡°What I have done is terrible. He deserves an apology.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t expect him to reciprocate,¡± he cautioned me.


    ¡°I will settle for him not trying to kill me.¡± I shrugged off his warning.


    And then we were off, to Onar and Shae¡¯s place. I had left my stuff with Meg and Gery for now. I would be back for it shortly. I had no intention of running away in secret this time. My departure from this town would happen normally. No more running away in the night. I even had Rafe and Eryn with me to ensure that I would be able to apologize to Onar properly. And say goodbye to Shae, if she would still allow it.


    ¡°Eryn and I have been talking. Room¡¯s free again now that the doctor¡¯s gone?¡± Rafe offered shortly after we had set out.


    I halted, looking up at Rafe.


    The man, noticing that I had stopped walking, turned around.


    ¡°Do not do this to me Rafe,¡± I pleaded. ¡°Meg and Gery I can understand, they are¡­ na?ve. But not you. Leaving here is hard enough as it is.¡±


    ¡°Just letting you know that you don¡¯t need to leave, not right now at least,¡± he offered. ¡°If you¡¯d take over Nebby¡¯s chores, then me and her can finally get to logging like we¡¯re supposed to. Would offset things enough that I might consider giving you the room for free.¡±


    I gave him a pained look. I did not need to act for that. In fact, it was keeping myself together enough not to collapse right here and now that was the hard part. No, that wasn¡¯t right. The hard part was that I wanted to say yes, and damn the consequences.


    I had spent all my life hiding, had spent all my life knowing that this day would come, the day where I slipped up. I had always known that I would die, that it would be soon, and that it would not be on my terms. Yet even with that knowledge, dying a pointless death like this, I was not ready for it. But if it had to be in a town full of people that cared for me, in a town with people that I might even come to call friends, then that was more than I could ever have hoped for.


    ¡°You have told me yourself you can¡¯t keep this secret Rafe. Every day I stay is a day I can not spend running. They will come for me, and they will kill me,¡± I stated. ¡°People might die.¡±


    I hoped he got that. I was not people. But if I was here when they found me, if they found out that these people had harbored me, then someone might die, because they had been too kind.


    He could not ask me again. He could not. If he did then I might say yes, for no matter how hard I tried, I was not human. When offered a chance at happiness for another¡¯s death, I might just take that chance.


    To my despair, he did understand.


    ¡°That risk is ours to take Vale.¡±

 1.48 – Fake Enough to Be Real

    I ignored Rafe¡¯s insistence I could stay by pushing past him, taking the lead on the way to Onar¡¯s farm. It did not look as impressively indifferent as I had intended it. It was yet another hot summer day and I simply could not keep up the pace, not without burning far more of my Metzus than I was comfortable with.


    It did not take long for Eryn and Rafe to pass me by again. Only halfway there and I was already regretting going on foot. Onar¡¯s farm was on the very edge of this little town, and then some. This was not the one hundred or so paces from the bunkhouse to the waterside. It wasn¡¯t even the one hundred and fifty paces to Reya¡¯s farm. It was closer to six hundred.


    This was every bit the torture walking around in a city was for me. At least in a city there was a bustle of people that I could use as an excuse for my slow going. Here I did not even have that, and Rafe and Eryn were setting a brisk pace I could barely keep up with. This was why I had a horse. Because I was useless in the sun.


    I reached for the amulet around my neck. It was the fourth day today, four days since I had last charged it. That would mean another recharge tonight, just for the simple privilege of being out in the sun like a normal person, just to stop my body from decomposing in the ambient Tonaltus projected by its rays.


    It had been bad when I had taken this amulet off in front of Onar, so much worse than I remembered from that one time I had tried the same thing ten years ago. I had foolishly assumed the consequences would be similar. My experience proved that had been a faulty assumption.


    Maybe it got worse every time I did it. Maybe it was the heat that had an effect. Maybe it was all these years pretending I was fine in the sun that had accumulated. The truth was, I did not know. There was far too much about me that I did not know. My dad knew a little, but in the end he had only ever fought things like me in Ostea, he could not help me on how to live as one.


    I had no one else to compare to, no one else in this country to exchange experiences with. If there were others, they were just as well hidden as I had been. And even if I did eventually encounter something like me, chances were I would kill it on sight. No one fully trusted things like me, not even I.


    Looking up, I noticed Rafe and Eryn were way ahead. With my wandering thoughts I had begun lagging far behind. Catching up would be impossible without them noticing my stumbling gait. I needed a distraction while I picked up my pace. Luckily, Rafe had given me just the thing. ¡°Soooo¡­ Rafe? Reya ran a what exactly?¡± I shouted after him, hinting at the sentence Rafe had not wanted to complete yesterday.


    Rafe held in a step. Even from this distance, I could tell by the tension in the air he was sharing a glance with Eryn. Fear and worry charred Rafe¡¯s scent. A hint of anger colored Eryn¡¯s.


    Rafe speak out of turn when he talked about Reya?


    ¡°Look¡­¡± Rafe hesitated, a slight quiver in his voice. It was the kind of hesitation that meant I was not going to get an answer.


    ¡°A gang?¡± I forced things with a wild guess. The spike in both Rafe and Eryn¡¯s heartbeats served as confirmation. It really hadn¡¯t been hard to narrow down the possibilities. There were only so many things you could run with the kind of abrasive attitude Reya displayed on a daily basis. It being half a secret, and Rafe telling me she had to be dissuaded from the notion that she ran Birnstead had further limited the options. Reya¡¯s colorful swear on our first meeting had helped as well. There weren¡¯t many civilized people here that used Sard.


    ¡°Ask her instead of fishing behind her back dear,¡± Eryn stated in Rafe¡¯s stead. ¡°She appreciates you. That¡¯s rare, so don¡¯t ruin it.¡± The finality in her tone classified the topic as closed.


    Reya? Appreciating me?


    The idea seemed preposterous, yet the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. She had been an abrasive, aggressive bitch. But at the same time, everything she did had been to help me, in her own strange way. She had even been downright honest with me, and had been the first person in Birnstead willing to give up Onar¡¯s secret.


    I smiled amiably at Rafe and Eryn to reassure them. Their answer had given me what I wanted. I would figure the rest of it out by speaking with Reya as Eryn had suggested. Besides, I could discern we were getting closer to Onar¡¯s barn by Shae¡¯s wildflower scent treading through the breeze. I was unable to spot her but could tell that she was working in the field somewhere to the left of me, together with Onar and that rude Chestnut-blood woman from yesterday. She had been the one that had gasped when Limn sat himself down next to me.


    Eryn broke off, heading towards them.


    Rafe stayed with me and merely held up his hand in greeting.


    I mimicked the gesture but faltered halfway through it. Onar would not like me waving at him. After what I had done I wasn¡¯t even sure if Shae still wanted to see me. She had been utterly terrified when her dad had attacked me, and that was before I had made it worse the next morning.


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    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± I asked Rafe to mask my awkwardness, gesturing in the direction of the Chestnut-blood.


    ¡°That¡¯s Sulla. Her farm is over there,¡± Rafe pointed. I pretended to look where he was pointing. Wherever her farm was, it was too far away for me to make anything out. ¡°She helps out on Onar¡¯s farm some days, especially now that Onar¡¯s lending a hand with the rebuilding.¡±


    She helps out?


    I carefully kept the confusion from showing on my face. Making all kinds of judgemental faces right in front of Onar was something I wanted to avoid right now. The man had trouble enough trusting me, without me displaying my dislike for what I had just learned.


    Shae¡¯d told me she had to run things on her own!


    Why¡¯d she lie about that?


    Was that chestnut woman here as well the day I came back?


    No, no, didn¡¯t smell her then.


    ¡°Shae told me she had to run this farm on her own with Onar helping out in the rebuilding,¡± I could not help but ponder aloud.


    I was so used to keeping things close. I did not think I would have been able to voice such doubts just days ago. Yet another weakness that was now showing through. Maybe it wasn¡¯t so bad though. Trust went both ways after all. Reya¡¯s words. They just kept on haunting me, perhaps because there was truth in them. I could only gain trust if I trusted others with my vulnerabilities in turn.


    ¡°I suppose to a twelve-year-old it might seem like that sometimes,¡± Rafe replied. ¡°She thinks herself so grown up at times¡­¡±


    Ah¡­


    I¡¯ve really allowed myself to be led along by a kid, haven¡¯t I?


    Twelve. Not eleven.


    I missed her birthday.


    ¡°She¡­ her dad¡¯s attitude weighs on her, I think. If only she didn¡¯t deal with it by pushing for conflict all the time. Eryn¡¯s tried talking to her but¡­¡± Rafe did not finish the sentence, instead he waved his arms in defeat.


    I frowned as Rafe¡¯s halting explanation gave clarity to so many of Shae¡¯s inexplicable acts. Rafe had touched on the subject before, but only now was I really understanding the scope.


    Shae had been using me to get at her dad. Asking me to stay over for dinner, stabling my horse at the bunkhouse, rushing over to the bunkhouse that evening under the guise of feeding the pig. She had done all that on purpose because she knew it would get a rise out of her dad. That was all kinds of messed up.


    I had trusted this girl, and she had used me. I had thought she had grown up in that half a year since last winter. Instead, she had¡­


    No, can¡¯t judge her on this.


    Know too little.


    After a brief discussion between Eryn and Onar the farmer headed our way. Without even sparing me a word, and with a constant cautious glare fixed on me, he led the both of us inside.  Before we had even gotten to the table an argument broke out between Onar and Rafe. The quick back and forth of half-statements was so full of references to what I assumed were previous discussions, that it quickly became incomprehensible to me. So while the two men were engrossed in their exchange I cast a quick glance at the kitchen.


    It looked almost exactly as I had left it last week. Almost. Onar¡¯s counter had been mangled every bit as badly as Rafe¡¯s table. Rafe had been right. I had done this. And I hadn¡¯t even noticed. My thoughts shot back to that one moment, to Shae¡¯s terrified look after she had asked me if I was a vampire.


    Fear of me?


    Or shock at the rents in the countertop?


    I had been so sure back then that it was my reaction that had terrified her. What if it had been the sudden damage to the countertop that had spooked her instead.


    My thoughts were interrupted by the sudden halt in the exchange behind me. Onar and Rafe were both looking at me. Rafe cautious and nervous, Onar¡­ his gaze on me was the most awful sight to look at. He stared right through me, with eyes so hollow and full of resignation that it was painful to look at. Unwilling to face the man¡¯s gaze I cast my eyes to the ground and quickly took a seat.


    ¡°Alright, you win,¡± Onar stated as soon as I looked up at him again. ¡°The town is yours, and I can¡¯t bring myself to kill my daughter''s friend, even when I know it¡¯s just a vampire pretending to be her friend. Do what you want. I don¡¯t care anymore.¡±


    I stared at him, then at Rafe, utterly aghast. This was not what I wanted. I had not dared to hope for actual acceptance, that was far too much to ask. But this, the utter defeat that radiated from him, was the exact opposite.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± I stammered.


    ¡°Stop pretending. It doesn¡¯t work on me.¡± Onar frowned, narrowed his eyes, but it remained that same soulless void.


    He knows. Oh, he knows.


    ¡°No, I won¡¯t,¡± I stated, casting a quick sidelong glance at Rafe. I wanted to do as he asked. I so wanted to show him what happened when I stopped pretending, just to prove a point. I did not because it would only make things worse.


    ¡°Pretending? What does he mean, Vale?¡± Rafe asked, having caught my glance. I shook my head at him in response.


    Later. Not now. I¡¯ll explain later.


    Please don¡¯t let me do this here.


    ¡°She¡¯s breathing Rafe. Don¡¯t you see it, she¡¯s pretending to breathe.¡± Onar gestured with one hand while grabbing on to Rafe¡¯s sleeve with the other. ¡°She¡¯s a vampire! She doesn¡¯t breathe.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a¨C¡± I clutched my hair and snapped my mouth shut mid shout. My usual denial would not help here either. The distinction did not matter to Onar. I doubted it mattered to anyone except me. But I still had to try, had to hope that I could make them understand.


    ¡°Fine. I am!¡± I snapped at Onar, then closed my eyes and breathed hard through my nose to center myself. ¡°But I¡¯m nothing like them. Those monsters killed my mom! They made me like this, had to be cut out of her womb¡­ if I ever get my hands on them¡­¡±


    I slammed my head on the table to shut myself up. Onar¡¯s own situation cut so close to home that I was getting worked up. My anger spilling out sent Rafe¡¯s heart racing. I could not have that, had to get myself back under control.


    Can¡¯t get angry. Can¡¯t scare them now.


    When I looked up again, Onar still had his cold, defeated gaze on me. ¡°I see why my daughter is so enamored with you. You manage an impressive approximation of emotion, for a vampire.¡±


    Not pretending!


    I wanted to deny his words, but deep down a part of me knew that he was right. I was too good a liar. With perfect control over my body, I could easily measure on any posture, any emotion, no matter how much it differed from what I really felt.


    Emotions were awful. Emotions hurt. But after well over twenty years of chasing them, I had grown to like them. A lot of times, my approximations hurt a lot less than not even trying. I could not tell how close I came to the real thing, but if I had to judge, based on my experiences of the past week I would dare say I wasn¡¯t far of.


    ¡°Fake enough to be real...¡± I told him with a wry smile. It was as close to the truth as I could get.

 1.49 – Pretend Humanity

    ¡°That did not go the way I expected it,¡± Rafe admitted when we were back outside.


    ¡°Things like this rarely do.¡± I tilted my head up and looked at the sky.


    We stood in silence for a couple of seconds, surveying the fields in front of us. Or at least Rafe did. I pretended I could see the fields. My nose told me where Eryn, Shae, and the Chestnut-woman were, but that was it. Onar was still inside.


    ¡°So, you really are a vampire then,¡± Rafe prompted.


    I gave Rafe a hard stare. ¡°Please do not refer to me by that word again. I abhor being lumped into the same category as those monsters.¡±


    Rafe stared right back at me. ¡°You gave me a bad hand there. Onar knew things about you that I didn¡¯t?¡± He phrased it like a question, but I recognized it for what it was. An accusation. I should have done my job to prepare him for this, should have told him more about myself, and I had not.


    ¡°He did,¡± I acknowledged his statement that Onar knew things. ¡°He knows more about vampires than most ever will, knows things he never wanted to know. What we got is the best you are going to get out of him. Nothing you or I say or do will change his mind.¡±


    I had phrased it in a way that made it clear I did not want to dwell on his accusation. If these were things that Onar wished he did not know, then the same applied to everyone else. Rafe being upset because I had not warned him in advance was not a good enough reason to share this information now.


    ¡°I offered you the option to stay a little longer earlier,¡± he stated. ¡°I¡¯m retracting it. You¡¯re not staying when you keep these kinds of dangerous things from me.¡±


    I frowned at Rafe. I had explicitly told him these were things Onar wished he never knew, and still he asked me for them, still he pried. Unfortunately for him, he had nothing to convince me with.


    ¡°That¡¯s easy then. I¡¯m leaving,¡± I commented, before turning to go.


    ¡°Wait?¡± he called after me.


    I looked over my shoulder, tilting my head at him.


    ¡°Please tell me?¡± he pleaded.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to know.¡± I scowled.


    ¡°Maybe I do,¡± he insisted


    I glanced back towards the field, towards where I knew Eryn and Shae were. From this distance, they were barely a smudge against the background to my eyes. I smelled their worry though, their fear. They were probably watching us, watching this exchange, and wondering what had transpired inside.


    I could not believe I was considering this. Telling him, no, showing him this would be stupid, idiotic, dangerous. It would be yet another item on the long list of stupid mistakes I had made in this town.


    I was beginning to understand why I was doing these suicidal things as well. I wanted people that would understand, people that would share in my pain. I knew they never could. The best I could offer anyone was an outside perspective, a look at why they should fear and hate me.


    ¡°Not here. Onar¡¯s barn,¡± I conceded. ¡°And go tell Eryn to keep everyone away from there.¡±


    I turned on my heels and stepped past Rafe, towards the barn. When Rafe did not move I waited at the edge of Onar¡¯s house, observing his indecision. Wariness permeated his scent and his posture. ¡°You have been alone with me before, Rafe. This is a little late to become wary of me.¡±


    The man¡¯s curiosity and kindness won out. While he trudged over to the other three people, I headed over to the barn to wait for him.


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    ¡°Alright, what¡¯s so secretive about this?¡± Rafe asked when he joined me there.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like doing this. It¡¯s terrifying. I¡¯m not subjecting Shae or Eryn to this.¡± I fixed him with a heavy glare. ¡°That is me politely informing you that it would be better if you changed your mind and walked away.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s that big of an issue, then I¡¯d say I definitely need to know,¡± he pointed out.


    I kept up my stare, waited for him to change his mind. He did not. His posture and the determined slant to his mouth told me he would not, no matter how long I waited.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I sighed a final time, letting all the air escape from my lungs.


    I did not breathe in again, stilling the motion of my lungs. I stopped blinking, halted the beating of my heart. And then I went further than anyone in this town had ever seen. Further than Shae who had seen me rest unbreathing and had thought I was dead. Further than Reya who had seen me magic my brains out. Further than Gery who had seen me suck an ahuizotl dry and then turn on him.


    I dropped all pretense of being human, stripped every single layer of pretend-humanity I had spent over twenty years building up and refining. I relinquished control of every muscle in my face, and my expression deadened. I seized all the little muscle twitches and micro-movements that make even a person at rest look so alive.


    Finally, I killed even the little twinkle of light and emotion in my eyes. Remorselessly I shelved these worthless emotions I had not dared let go of with the Academy doctor. They were every bad decision I had ever made, and it was so stupid I had not dared to get rid of them sooner. Perhaps it was best if they stayed gone.


    Rafe stood alone in this barn now. Alone with a statue of me. A perfect, unblinking predator with eyes that spoke only of his death, a thing that only moved when it absolutely had to, and then only with perfect efficiency.


    I was not human, had never been human. Just a creature of Metzus, inhabiting the corpse of a little baby girl, grooming it, growing it, puppeteering it like a marionette. That was what I really was. The foulest imitation of humanity the prey had ever seen.


    The Firebird-male in front of me paled and paled further. He no longer reeked of fear. This was way past fear. Primal terror was all there was left in him.


    I moved my puppet head ever so slightly, my perfect hollow eyes staring right into the prey¡¯s soul.


    The meat paled even more.


    ¡°This is what Onar sees when he looks at me,¡± I spoke through my puppet-mouth. There was no warmth in my voice, not even the slightest shift in tone, no inflection at all. I did not even grant the prey that lie. My words were as devoid of life as I was.


    Onar was right. Taking this town would be so easy. They all thought me so, so human. They trusted me, trusted that pathetically innocent, emotional act I showed them. All it took was a little pretend-humanity, and then they even trusted a thing like me. They needed to see the mistake in that, because this is what their ridiculous human naivety invited into their home. Their faith in a predator like me, that was how Ostea had gotten this bad.


    The prey stumbled back, tripped, and fell.


    When I saw it go down I pulled myself back from the abyss. The sudden rush of sensations I had forcibly held at bay staggered me, pulled me to my knees.


    I gasped for breath as Rafe¡¯s terror washed over me. With my humanity packed away the man¡¯s fear had been little more than an insignificant fact at the back of my mind. Now it was an actual human emotion, and its overpowering strength burned into me.


    I had never done this with anyone. Not with anyone but my dad. Looking at Rafe now I knew how much I had underestimated the effect. I pounded the ground in frustration, sobbing tears that would not come no matter how hard I tried, hoping that I had not broken the man.


    I only knew I had not when I felt his arms wrap around me. His hands gripped my shoulders and rubbed my arms.


    ¡°Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry,¡± I mumbled in between sobs.


    ¡°Ik¡¯s okay, girl. It¡¯s okay,¡± he shushed.


    ¡°Why?¡± I wailed. Why are you still here? Why didn¡¯t you run? Why are you holding me? Why would it be okay? There were far too many questions wrapped up in that single word.


    ¡°Because that terrified you every bit as much as it terrified me,¡± he whispered soothingly.


    I took a second to pull myself together. Most people would have taken longer. I did not need that extra time to look like I was fine. Actually being fine could wait until later. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to run from the monster, not comfort it,¡± I told Rafe with a half-smile, patting his hand.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ well¡­ guess I¡¯m not as sensible a person as I thought,¡± he offered. ¡°That was definitely¡­ um¡­ educational?¡± He stared off in the distance. ¡°I think I see now why the Inquisition would kill you on sight.¡±


    ¡°I should really get to work on that running for my life, shouldn¡¯t I?¡± I sighed and leaned into him.


    ¡°Offer to stay still stands.¡± He ran his hands over my hair.


    ¡°Stands again,¡± I corrected him. ¡°You retracted it earlier. Also, you¡¯re crazy for even suggesting that with what you now know.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯d be crazy not to offer. You need this,¡± he stated, as if offering me his support was the most natural thing in the world.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be pretty if they find me here,¡± I tried one last time to change his mind. ¡°Retract your offer.¡±


    ¡°To be honest, I doubt it matters what I do with my offer. You¡¯ll do what you want either way.¡±

 1.50 – Stupid Everything

    ¡°Well, you two look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost,¡± Eryn commented on entering the barn.


    I broke from Rafe¡¯s embrace and glanced up at her.


    After a bit of hesitation, Shae entered as well. There was no bounding towards me this time. Her approach was far more careful.


    I smiled gently and extended a hand towards her, terrified that she would not take it, that she would not dare to get close to me again.


    Rafe stood up and took a step back to give me space.


    Hesitant, shuffling steps brought Shae past Eryn. Then she broke into a run and tackled me to the ground. I laughed at the girl sitting on top of my chest, grabbed hold of her shoulders, pulled her close, and rolled sideways. Despite her weight, despite this little girl secretly being bigger than me, I managed to pull myself to my knees again with her still in my arms.


    ¡°Still not scared of me?¡± I asked her, feeling especially daring.


    She hesitated, squirmed in my arms, scrunched up her nose, and glanced down with a finger pressed to her bottom lip.


    I could feel the acceleration of her heartbeat through our touch, taste the tinge of fear in her scent. This was a no. Just a week ago she had callously grabbed on to my claws. Now there was trepidation.


    Even still, I held out hope. I can¡¯t bring myself to kill my daughter¡¯s friend. That was what Onar had said. My daughter¡¯s friend. Those three simple words carried my hope that Shae would still consider me her friend. Even now, after all that had happened. And so I waited, until she was ready to answer.


    ¡°Still not scared of you,¡± she offered eventually, bravely looking me in the eyes.


    ¡°Liar.¡± I pouted and tweaked her nose. The sudden gesture did not startle her as hard as I thought it would.


    ¡°Okay, maybe a little bit,¡± she conceded with a little frown and one eye half-closed. She latched on to my wrist and pulled my hand down away from her nose. Instead of letting go, she traced her fingers up my glove and began prodding at the leather covering my fingers, until she found the spot where my fingers stopped and my claws began.


    ¡°Good, that¡¯s at least one sensible person in this entire town.¡± I watched her prod at my glove-covered claws with bemusement. I should probably have berated her for that. I had promised myself I would not allow any more weird claw-fetish behavior. I did not interrupt her because this cautious, determined examination was a tremendous improvement over the complete disregard for her own safety she had displayed a week ago.


    When I looked up at the two adults, they were staring at the strange display with an equal mix of wariness and awe. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I reassured them. ¡°I won¡¯t let her hurt herself.¡±


    My commentary made Shae aware of the audience her strange fascination with my monstrous side had attracted. With a little gasp, she let go and twisted to look behind her, at Eryn and Rafe.


    ¡°Ignore them.¡± I pulled Shae in a fresh embrace. ¡°They¡¯re just jealous.¡±


    Resting the back of her head on my chest she looked up at me. ¡°You¡¯re leaving again, aren¡¯t you?¡± she whispered, voice laden with regret.


    ¡°Yeh.¡± I nodded, closed my eyes, and laid my chin on her forehead.


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    ¡°No fair.¡± Shae pouted. ¡°I barely got to talk to you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got to sweety.¡± I sighed. ¡°Someone left a bounty in Rivenston. Something about a monster attack in Birnstead. Figured I¡¯d go and claim it.¡±


    ¡°Let someone else claim it,¡± she stated with stubborn determination.


    I hugged her tighter in response, and let her relax like that in my arms a little while longer. Rafe and Eryn left us alone. A moment of peace, stolen out of time. A moment where only the now mattered. A moment where I hoped she would not need to think about me abandoning her, did not need to think about how her dad hated that she hung out with me.


    She was only twelve, yet was caught up in this harshest of reality, because stupid old me had chosen their barn to sleep in that one night six months ago. In a moment she would need to return to her life, face reality. So before she did I granted her every last second of reprieve I could. I let her rest in my arms as I stroked her back.


    A tendril of Metzus, a tendril of me, nearly snaked its way out of my puppet body before I could reel it back. I longed to let it out. So longed for it. But still I could not. I wanted to hug her. Wanted to really hug her. Not as my puppet body but as the real me. I could not. Not ever. This fake puppet-hug would have to do.


    This was why my dad did not like hugging me, especially when I was upset or angry. This was part of why I had a no-hugging rule. Too dangerous, too risky. It was even why I vowed to never ever use this as a weapon. If I ever manifested my true self outside of my body, even if by just the tiniest of accident, if I touched¡­


    These tendrils of Metzus energy I used to puppet this body, they were what I really was. They were me. If I tried to touch someone with them, If I ever tried to touch someone for real, it would be just like my near-accident when scoping out Uncle Tare¡¯s injuries. Any more than the tiniest hint of Metzus and the human body melted, decomposed, in exactly the same way my puppet-vessel rotted away under the Tonaltus rays of the sun.


    Maybe there was a way around it, some kind of runic crafting that could be applied to an amulet, something that provided Metzus protection like my amulet provided Tonaltus protection. If there was, it was yet another Ostean secret, one I was not privy to. I could not even figure out how to replicate the runes on my amulet. Too advanced. Too complex. Probably intentionally so. The crafting of them was yet another secret the Ostean Inquisition kept close. If I ever lost my amulet I would be dead. No replacing it, not here on this continent.


    In my arms, Shae stirred. One careful move after another she pieced her way out of my embrace. The hurt was there again in her eyes. Hurt. Not maturity. The maturity was only a mask, just like mine. How I had ever mistaken the two I could not tell.


    Before she could fully slip away I grabbed hold of her shoulders. She looked my way, a worried frown plastered on her face as I sought her eyes. It pained me to do this, but there would be no better moment than now. It was just the two of us now, and that gave me the greatest chance of success.


    ¡°When you came over to the bunkhouse, you knew your dad would come after you, didn¡¯t you?¡± I asked her.


    She tensed under my hand.


    ¡°You knew he¡¯d be angry, right?¡± I kneaded her shoulder to let her know it was alright, that I wasn¡¯t angry with her.


    Even with my reassuring touch, she tried to get away.


    ¡°Would you like to know how that made me feel?¡± I asked her, stroking her hair for comfort, then bringing the back of my hand against her cheek.


    She sniffled.


    I told her, because despite everything I trusted this little girl with my hurts. Because secretly I hoped it would bring her to trust me with hers in turn. Because it was the only way I could think of that would maybe get her away from pitting me and her dad against each other.


    The more I spoke, the more I was reminded of my own dad. He had spent hours like this with me. Days. Weeks. Every little thing he did, everything that happened around us, he had provided me with a running commentary of how it made him feel. Years he kept that up. Years and years.


    That was how much patience he had with me. That was how long it took me just to get an inkling. That was how long it took me to even begin to understand that feeling was more than the sensation of touch on your skin. It was the way the world touched an intangible thing deep inside you.


    It took me longer still to start pretending to have those same feelings. Close to a decade to get the illusion right. Another decade to sometimes forget I was only pretending. I was a vampire. I did not feel. So why did not feeling hurt so much? So why was I talking about feelings to this little girl?


    ¡°Please don¡¯t let go,¡± Shae pleaded when I was done, nestling herself a little deeper in my arms.


    I won¡¯t.


    I sighed.


    Stupid town.


    Shae and Meg both treating me like family.

 1.51 – Small Town Predators, Reprise (End)

    Back at Rafe and Eryn¡¯s place, I counted out coins. ¡°For the damage to your table, and to Onar¡¯s counter,¡± I explained.


    Rafe and Eryn shared a look. A frown, a twist of a lip, a raised eyebrow. More was being communicated without words than I could ever hope to understand. For a moment I feared a repeat of the scene with Meg, where they would refuse to accept my payment. Then Eryn calmly stated an amount nearly twice as high as what I had offered.


    I shook my head but neglected to actively barter with her over the price.


    As soon as I began adding the requested amount to the pile of coins, Eryn started listing more prices. For Onar¡¯s broken pitchfork. For the room I had rented from them. For four days of looking after my horse.


    I was glad all of those only cost me coppers, because the list of fees was bringing me dangerously close to broke. I couldn¡¯t even protest about the exorbitant room fee without looking like a fool. I had vehemently insisted I pay for it just days ago.


    Once they were done fleecing me for every coin I owned, Rafe produced a recognizable slip of paper. Proof of slaying. He placed a significant amount of the money I had just paid them on top of it and shoved it my way. ¡°For the ahuizotl,¡± he insisted.


    This, I was going to barter on. I counted what he had just offered me, rounded it up to a number divisible by three, and named that in response. ¡°There were three, not one.¡± I offered as my reason.


    Rafe shrugged and piled on what was missing without complaining. I should have asked for more, way more. I hadn¡¯t even asked for anything in exchange for taking care of Uncle Tare. Once again I was being too kind. Story of my life.


    I pocketed my payment and the proof of slaying. Grabbing the last of my stuff I headed out, followed by both Rafe and Eryn. My horse was already waiting for me. Someone must have readied it while I was busy taking care of payment. I couldn¡¯t instantly tell who because half the town was there to see me off.


    After a quick pat on Fern¡¯s neck, I checked the gear stowed on her back. All of it was accounted for. I rearranged some things. Rafe handed me my crossbow and the few other possessions I had left in their room in my hasty flight days ago.


    Finally ready to go, I hoisted myself into the saddle. Fern gave me her best derisive snort and a shake of her head. I stroked her mane. This only granted me an even bigger snort. I got her message. If the silly bean can only be kind to her horse when she needed it then the silly bean should not try at all.


    ¡°Sorry girl, I¡¯ll do better next time,¡± I apologized to my horse.


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    Steering Fern around I said my goodbyes to everyone in turn. Then I nudged my horse towards Gery and Meg. They had done so much for me they deserved a special kind of goodbye. I reached down and Meg obliged, handing me both the little gremlin and the nibble. I placed both kids in front of me, their own little honorary throne on the back of the one and only Fern, noble steed of the demon-slayer Vale.


    Little kids and horses.


    Never gets old.


    ¡°You take care of yourself girl,¡± Gery told me when I handed the kids back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so dramatic old man.¡± I slapped him on the shoulder. If everyone else got to call me a kid then I was going to start calling them old man. ¡°I¡¯ll be here to give these gloves of yours back as soon as I¡¯ve bought some new ones in Rivenston.¡±


    Then, with a final wave, I set off, east out of town, then south towards Rivenston. I only made one last stop before leaving. There was one person who had not been there to see me off. And as much as she annoyed me sometimes, I was not just going to up and disappear on her. Not now that I had gotten a handle on her, had begun to respect her a little more.


    An overly-outspoken worrywart, that was what Gery had called her. It was truer than I could have imagined. She cared about people, worried about them, maybe even about me. She voiced that care and worry loudly, unfiltered, unbridled. I had fretted endlessly about her angry rants, still had some of them stuck in my head. But that was good. Angry, pissed off, furious Reya was good. It meant she cared about you enough to get angry at.


    Now, I had not seen her since late yesterday afternoon. Not this morning, when I had set out for Onar, and not even now to see me off. That was bad. It meant I had genuinely pissed her off now, to the point that she was avoiding me, that she was not venting her frustration at me in my face anymore.


    After a bit of blindly sniffing around her plot of land I managed to locate her working in the field, silently fuming as she attacked weeds with a fervor and anger she would likely much rather release on me. That she was acting out like this, instead of mere calculated coldness, meant I hopefully still had an easy chance of patching things up. That she had not vented this anger in front of everyone else even showed a remarkable amount of restraint on her part.


    ¡°Reya?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°Vale.¡± She huffed in obvious annoyance.


    ¡°What did I mess up now Reya?¡± I asked bluntly, hoping that showing her the directness and honesty she so appreciated would help.


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know Vale,¡± she ranted. ¡°But last I checked you were apparently having dinner with half the town last night, including with me. Strangely enough, no one actually had you over for dinner.¡±


    I winced, blushed.


    Oops.


    Her glare broke at my blush.


    I tried on a half-hearted, deferential smile.


    She returned a predatory grin.


    Town predators, she and I both, jockeying for position. I had lost to her. I had lost long ago. It was what had thrown me off every time I was near her, I had simply never experienced not being the alpha-predator before. If only it had not taken me this long to realize, then we would have gotten along much sooner.


    ¡°You leaving?¡± she asked after we were done laughing at our own foolishness.


    ¡°Hah no!¡± I laughed, wildly shaking my head. My ever recalcitrant hair, that I had taken so much care to wrangle into proper braids, came undone again. ¡°I like it here, and Rafe¡¯s letting me stay.¡±


    Stating that out loud, it was incredible how good that felt. I could still hardly imagine it. An entire town knew what I was, and close to all of them were fine with it. I could stay here for a while, maybe a week or two, or a month if I wanted to risk it, and just... be myself.

 Volume 2 progress updates (aug 26, 2022)

    Hey everyone. RoyalRoad doesn''t really have a good way to do status updates, so I will be using this chapter here to keep you all informed from now on. Check back every month or so for news.


    Aug 26, 2022


    <blockquote>


    Clutching the covers I shot upright. The light of not-quite-dawn-but-not-quite-night-either filtered in through the window. The first sounds of a city waking up came with it. Besides me, that strange woman stirred, her own gradual waking making her brush against me. But there were no nightmares creeping up on me. No fangs seeking out my blood.


    Despite my misgivings, it had been like any old night at home. My ...daughter had not snuck up on us. She still sat in the same spot as last evening, perfectly motionlessly still, as if no time had passed at all. Watching and waiting always held this unnervingly casual ease for her.


    But this time, when my shallow breathing was somewhat more under control, and my eyes darted towards her corner a second time, there was that little twist to her lips, that hint of wry humor that had never been there before. I wasn''t certain I had seen it right at all, there and gone before I had even properly noticed.


    I had almost dismissed the thought, passed it off as nothing but a figment of my imagination, when I spotted her own, furtive, worried glimpse my way. It made my stomach flip, and even though I was only barely awake, I already knew I''d be struggling to get any food in when the time for breakfast came.


    </blockquote>


    I''m not the kind of writer who can simply pour out all the right words straight from the first time. I try. I fail. I meander and stray. I write and rewrite and polish until a sickening goop of word-vomit is finally polished into something resembling a chapter. The above segment is one of those tangents of mine. It is a small part of a throwaway side POV chapter and thus will not be a part of volume two proper. I''m sharing it here because it is a unique outside perspective on Vale.


    I''m also sharing it because writing it was critical to the development of the second volume. The moment described here is the beginning of the pivotal point halfway through the story. It was essential that I got it right. When writing the scene didn''t quite work out the first time, I took a step back and looked at it from a different point of view. It deepened my understanding of the characters, and the emotional journey they are going through immensely.


    Talking about midway points, this particular scene happens approximately 70k words in. That''s a concept I''m still trying to wrap my head around. I knew, after the extensive restructuring of my plans for volume 2, that it was going to turn out a little bit bigger than the 90k words I had initially expected it to be.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Only now is the true scope becoming clear. Going by my original estimate of 90k word length, I should be creeping up on the final scenes now. I am not. Not by far. This is going to be a beast of a volume. My new length estimate sits at somewhere between 140k and 160k words.


    I''m going to be brutally honest. Obviously, this scope creep is going to result in even further delays. I can not magically write twice as many words in an hour, and finding extra time to write is a near impossibility as well. Right now it''s too early still to provide estimates, but I hope to give you a more accurate prediction of the additional delays in a future update.


    That''s it for now. See you again at the end of September.


    Oh, and if you really can''t wait for more, go check out Sovereign of Wrath</a>. It''s a brilliant character-driven story with a lot of the same soft and fluffy goodness and intricate plotting as Vale. I''ve been a little obsessed with it lately, and if you haven''t checked it out yet, it is definitely worth a read.


    Jul 21, 2022


    <blockquote>


    Her eyes flicked towards the corpse of the dead guard. She did not say anything but the offer was there. Then, as if that offhand suggestion was insignificant, she turned her back to me and started rummaging around in her pack.


    I didn¡¯t care what she was looking for. After all my efforts not to linger on it, she had irrevocably drawn my attention to the corpse. I could not look away any more. It was there. I needed it. The Honey-blood had offered it to me. She had offered me another human being as food, without thinking twice about it, simply because I had asked.


    And I had asked.


    </blockquote>


    Yes, that is a snippet from volume two. Yes, volume two is still happening.


    Yes, unfortunately, there are some delays. There are obviously excuses. The lifting of covid restrictions claimed a lot of my evenings and thus ravaged the time I have available for writing. Parts of the plot weren''t as solid as I thought they were. Rewrites happened. So many rewrites. 70k words down the drain, easily.


    But mostly, what is making me take longer is the complexity. Volume two is a fiendishly, hellishly complex beast to write. It is fun though. There is nothing more satisfying than finally, after weeks of struggling, managing to condense a whole chapter''s worth of shitty narration into half a page of beautiful, gut-wrenching prose.


    The consequences of the delays are obvious. Volume two is not coming out this fall as I had initially hoped. It is absolutely going to be winter at the earliest. But when it finally gets here, it will be glorious.


    Meanwhile, to tide you over, have a cover. Keep in mind that the title is still a working title, and thus subject to change. Yes, it is fancier than the volume one cover. Yes, I will be doing a visual update of the volume one cover to match this one.

 Volume 2 progress update (okt 24, 2022)

    <blockquote>


    She probably considered me her friend. And that¡­ friendship? Such a wild concept. I¡¯d never had friends before.


    </blockquote>


    Looks like I missed my September update. Did I mention yet that I am bad at keeping people informed? But no worries, work is continuing regardless.


    As I mentioned in a previous update, volume two has ballooned from my initial estimate of 80k words to something much closer to a massive 160k words. That''s a lot. Twice as long as volume one was. It''s too much to prepare in advance. It would simply take too long. So I''ve split the second volume into two halves. The first draft of the first half is complete. I am now working on the second draft.


    I initially planned an epilogue/side story shortly after the completion of volume one. I had to postpone that as it needed tighter integration with volume two. Now that I have a good grasp on all the details of volume two, the first draft of this side story (10k words / 6 chapters) has been written as well. There as well I am now working on the second draft. The little snippet above is from the side story.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    There have been a lot of small edit suggestions and spelling/grammar corrections. I''ve worked through most of those and combined them with my own corrections. I''ll apply the last of these corrections to my master doc somewhere in the coming months and then update the chapters here to match. Sorry if I didn''t reply to your edit suggestions personally, and sorry that I left them for so long. I do appreciate all of them. It is merely that processing them in bulk like this is a little easier for me.


    I have already revealed the volume two cover in an earlier update. The cover for volume one has now been redone to match. The updated volume one cover is what''s currently on the story.


    And finally, and most importantly, the new timeline: I hope to begin posting the side story somewhere in January or February 2023. It will be going up at a very sedate pace, 1 chapter every 3 or 4 weeks probably. This will give me until May or June to finish up the first half of volume two. Once I finally start posting volume two it will be at a much faster release schedule (probably two chapters per week).

 Volume 2 progress update (mar 14, 2023)

    <blockquote>


    Huffing, I flipped my hair over my shoulder in a perfectly childish act of pretend-annoyance, turned my back on them, and leaned against the counter. Aiming for an even more impressive display of casual boredom and utter disrespect for the stuffy adults, I raised myself up onto the very tips of my toes ¡ª stupid child body ¡ª so that I could rest my elbows on the awkwardly high countertop.


    </blockquote>


    Hi everyone,


    I promised a chapter by the end of February, and it''s March now so things are obviously taking a bit longer than expected. Nevertheless, there is progress. I''ve just completed the second draft of the side story I promised. Did I mention earlier that it was 10k words? Well, I lied. It''s much closer to 20k words. Anyway, I''ll be doing a last proofreading and cleanup pass now, and hope to begin posting it by the end of the month.


    As I''m on to proofreading, allow me to put on my best begging face. I still need beta readers. f you''d like to beta-read Vale, and help prevent glaring continuity errors, plot holes, or inconsistencies from slipping in, let me know.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    On even more story-related news, both the side chapter and volume two involve more locations than just Birnstead. An easy way to convey where all the mentioned places are located sure would be convenient, wouldn''t it? Such a convenient tool is sometimes called a map. We have those so-called maps. Have some maps:


    This first one is just Birnstead and its surroundings. The next one is a more country-level overview. It even has a little arrow pointing toward the distant continent of Ostea on it:


    Finally, discord. You know, it''s that thing all the hip, trendy, and popular authors use to engage with their readers. Alas, I may not be hip, trendy, or popular. But I do have a discord server now. I don''t know how that will turn out. I''m terrible at engaging with people. But hey, it''s there now for you to use:


    https://discord.gg/kF9ErFYrnX</a>

 Side 1.1 — Journey’s End – Part 1

    A secret part of me rebelled at the words I had just written. I wanted to share all of my indulgences, instead of the mere teasing and then withholding I had penned down. Yet instead of listening to those feelings, I shuttered them deep inside of me, kept the letter as is, and signed my name at the bottom.


    I¡¯m sorry dad.


    Miss you.


    Please stay safe.


    That was all I could hope for, that my dad would need some time to think about the meaning of my letter, and to weigh his options. My deliberate vagueness would keep him safe. Because eventually, he would read between the lines. He would remember that only a life on the move kept me safe. That if he was reading about how I was staying in one place, that I might already be dead.


    I shifted my posture on the rough straw bedding, and let my eyes rove around the cramped inn-room ¡ª barely more than a single bed crammed in between four walls ¡ª while I waited for the ink to dry. Blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes, I braced for the inevitable now that I was no longer visibly busy: smalltalk.


    Rivenston, unlike Birnstead, was a city, so my room here at the North Gate Inn was a shared one. Private rooms cost extra. You paid for every single bed they could otherwise have crammed in a room and every single person they could have stuffed in a bed. That was way beyond anything I could afford. So instead of sympathetic bunkhouse owners like Eryn and Rafe that gave you an entire room for free, I now had roommates.


    ¡°You always write with your gloves on?¡± the man sitting on the other side of the bed remarked.


    Nosy roommates.


    The annoyingly curious human belonged to a party of three farmers. He was the only one of them in the room with me right now. They came from someplace west-ish and were here to do... stuff. Probably sell their produce or something. I honestly could not be bothered to remember.


    All that mattered to me was that I had to share this room with them for the night. That meant pretending to be perfectly human, displaying at least a semblance of politeness, and suppressing the exhilarating desire to toy with the food.


    Yes, exhilarating. This was not Birnstead. Here, I wasn¡¯t haunted by the looming specter of people suspecting what I was. They did not know. Completely unaware. I did not need to rein myself in so much. I could indulge a little. In little ways, I could be me, and even if I acted a little strangely because of it, they absolutely believed I was human.


    As long as I did not completely shatter the illusion of humanity, did not answer this male¡¯s question by taking off my gloves and giving him a little wave of my claws and a full-fanged grin, he would remain convinced vampires were a threat a continent away.


    But I could not indulge. Could not mess with him. Not even a little. I was going to live with people. Really live with people, even if only for a short while. I had to be better. More compassionate. Sociable. I should practice being nice.


    The prospect only made it so much harder to behave. All his questions were so insufferably intrusive. And he had not even shared his name with me. Most people would have at least tried to exchange names first. Most people would not voice all their thoughts aloud as he did. Worst of all, the man tasted so utterly bored and disinterested. He wasn¡¯t even looking for an actual conversation, but merely the pretense of one. Or maybe this was all me again, failing to comprehend the intricacies of social interaction.


    And perhaps I was complaining too much as well. All things considered, I could have ended up with worse.


    I mumbled something incomprehensible in response to the man''s question while I folded my letter and gathered up the writing supplies. Hopefully, the noncommittal non-answer would be interpreted as whatever he wanted, and then he would leave me alone.


    ¡°What was that, Girlie?¡±


    Girlie?


    Not a¡ª Gah!


    I tried so hard not to draw attention to my overly-youthful appearance. Even the tiny slit of a window, only letting in the slightest hint of sunlight and casting the room in an abundance of dark shadows, helped disguise my age. Yet he still treated me like a little girl. Never mind not toying with your food. I was going to enjoy this.


    I turned to face him and gave the man a far too gentle smile. ¡°Ever shoved your fist deep into one of a cipactli¡¯s many jaws and pulled on its tonsils to prevent it from biting your arm off?¡±


    Wildly exaggerated tales were what people expected to hear from wandering hunters like me. So much so, that when I launched into an obviously embellished tale like this, explaining why I had my gloves on, everyone just sort of bought it.


    Still, this was quickly turning into the most preposterously absurd explanation I had ever given for my gloves. And he was still buying it. Really, with some audiences I could probably slip the honest truth about my monstrous nature into a tall tale, and they would simply believe it to be part of the excessive dramatization. Regardless, I was not going to risk being that honest.


    ¡°... if the price for keeping my fingers is practicing writing with gloves on, I¡¯ll gladly pay it,¡± I finished blandly.


    The farmer fiddled with the bedding, eyes drifting across the room, out of focus.


    Right, might have overdone it.


    I exhaled loudly through my nose, deposited all the writing implements on the ground ¡ª not even enough room for a desk or chair to write on in these cramped rooms ¡ª and scooted over to his side of the bed. Sitting down right behind the man, I gently slapped him on the back. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay. I¡¯m just messing with you a little.¡±


    I was comforting this man. Birnstead really had done something to me. Usually, I would rattle people a bit and then walk away, feeling a little smug about my accomplishments. Now though, having dumped such gruesome imagery on the man felt uncomfortable. A single week in Birnstead, a single week of going back somewhere I should never have returned to, and it had changed something in me.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°You... you¡¯re just a kid. How can you say those kinds of things yet be so happy?¡± the farmer asked.


    To assuage my own agitation I took off my gloves, and kept one hand¡¯s worth of exposed claws hidden behind his back. I splayed and flexed the fingers of my other hand, the one holding my gloves, claws handily hidden away behind folds of leather. It was a trick that came from long practice. Give me a scrap of cloth or leather to hold and I can go around bare-handed, claws hidden by nothing more than a stray piece of fabric.


    It was not something I felt at ease about doing in a place with too many witnesses. Or with too many things I might accidentally tear holes in. But in a smaller room, with maybe one or two people present, it was a clever way to make people think they had seen my hands.


    ¡°As I said, it¡¯s really not as gruesome as I made it sound,¡± I lied. ¡°Mostly it¡¯s just tedious jobs, like getting rid of mimixcoa infestations. And hey, I¡¯ve got things to be happy about. I¡¯m about to take a break. Nice little village a couple of days upriver. I¡¯ll be staying there for a week or two, mostly doing nothing. Just some fun and relaxation.¡±


    Another slap on his shoulder, and then I stood up. ¡°Going to hand this letter in and run some errands.¡±


    I rolled over to my side of the bed again and snatched up my letter, the inkwell, and the quills. Now with even more stuff to hide my claws behind, I hopped over to the door, gave a quick wave, and then slipped out of the room. Leaving the borrowed quill and inkwell with the proprietor of the inn, I ducked into town.


    Away from the annoying farmer, what lay ahead of me should have been a fun shopping trip. After all, every task completed brought me closer to my return to Birnstead. The prospect made even the incessant summer sun bearing down on me tolerable.


    But the letter to my dad I carried with me still nagged at me. Its tone was off. Despite how hard I had aimed for it, I simply had not been able to match the perfunctory matter-of-factness that was my usual. Dad might notice too soon. Despite having scrubbed the fiercest of my joy from my writing, he would still see the difference. There was too much emotion in my writing. And while a part of me wanted some of my genuine delight to shine through, it also made me wonder what it would make him think.


    No, I didn¡¯t wonder. I already knew. It would distress him. He understood what kind of creature I was, recognized what sort of things made me happy, and I could imagine how he would worry. His mind would turn to what I might do, what I might have already done. I could only hope he did not wonder how many¡ª


    No.


    Happy thoughts!


    At least he would not have the means to find me. As we had agreed before I left home, I never included my residence in my letters to him. No way for him to reply. No opportunity for him to chase after me. Not even with this kind of letter, a goodbye.


    It was better this way. Everyone in Birnstead knew what I was. That information would leak. When staying in one place caught up with me, when the Inquisition came for me, he would at least be safe.


    He safe, and I happy.


    Yes, happy thoughts. In Birnstead I would be able to not hide, to be myself. Sure, at the end of it I would end up dead. But that was an abstract, far-off thing. From now on until the inevitable happens, I would simply be able to enjoy life. From now on, I will only think happy thoughts, and make good memories.


    <hr>


    Cities were, ironically, easier for me to traverse than small villages. So many more eyes that could spot my unsteady pace, my reluctance to step into the sun, and my blindness, yet as long as I managed to avoid the wide-open spaces I was just another faceless nobody in a crowd.


    No one noticed if I limped and shambled along because in packed streets all you could manage was a slow shuffle anyway. In those busy thoroughfares, even my sun-blindness did not bother me. I did not need to feel my way along, but merely follow in the footsteps of someone walking ahead of me. And in smaller alleyways, buildings were packed together so tight that there was plenty of shade.


    The only thing worse in a city was the constant press of the food around me. Their sweat, their taste, it saturated the air, a constant assault on my senses. Yet even that I could mitigate. I had caught myself some little wildlife nibbles right before entering the city, and properly fed, all of the prey around me was mostly ignorable.


    Closer to the good parts of town the architecture changed. The ground beneath my feet turned from packed dirt to cobbled street. When I traced a hand along a wall, the feel of those too had changed, less wood, more stone.


    One of those stone buildings was my destination, the Inquisition branch office. I could not see much of it now that it shone under the light of the sun, but I still remembered it from when I was here last winter. It was a strange construction, with a purely functional square floor plan, a central courtyard, tiny slits instead of windows on the ground floor, and then gold filigree, chiseled decorations, and a roof with elaborate spiral towers on top of that. The thing only made sense once you considered its confused multifunctionality, part fortified villa, part grandiose prayer house, part impromptu garrison if the needs required it.


    Arriving at the sturdy iron and wood gate that leads to the courtyard, I presented my letter to the bored woman guarding the entrance.


    The gate guard radiated annoyance, probably shot me an angry glare I could not see in this sun, and finally, rudely snatched the offered mail out of my hand.


    I shrugged, and ignoring her sour attitude I slipped past her and into the courtyard. She was just annoyed because they never expected lowly little kid hunters like me to actually hand them mail. She would get that letter where it needed to go regardless.


    Access to the Inquisition¡¯s secured mail delivery was one of the few benefits of being a monster hunter, and it was one I gladly made use of, even if at times it meant coming a little too close to the people whose job it was to kill creatures like me. Officially, access to their mail service was a way to reward monster hunters for the pretty much free service they provided the Inquisition. In practice, it was a fake gesture, a mostly useless benefit that cost nothing to provide, but felt generous nonetheless.


    The vast majority of hunters were orphaned kids, the destitute, or those with no other way to get by. People that had no one to turn to, that often could not even read, did not need to send mail. The Inquisition did not expect me to actually use the service. That was exactly why I so liked handing them my letters. It was endless fun. At first glance, I was nothing but a dirty street rat. More often than not they snatched the piece of paper out of my hand as if my slovenly look was a deadly contagious disease. And then, the shock when they actually looked at the letter and saw it penned in beautiful calligraphy. Perfect.


    Yes, the Inquisition had really thought this through. They barely needed to do a thing. In return, they got an army of foolish child hunters, desperate to do all of the most menial monster-hunting jobs. The Inquisitors themselves only needed to busy themselves with the things that we idiots did not return from.


    Having had my small pleasure with the mail, I crossed the central courtyard and entered the side room of the chapel, the place reserved for monster hunters like me. In smaller cities like these, it was only open for a couple of hours each day. Sitting behind a creaky desk I would find a bored clerk ¡ª either a parchment-old priest or a page stupid enough to end up with the fool job. I would hand in the proof of slaying for the ahuizotl from Birnstead, they would update their little register, and that would be it. Then I would finally be free of my monster hunter duties.


    That was not how it went this time. There was no bored clerk waiting for me, but a full Inquisitor team.

 Side 1.1 — Journey’s End – Part 2

    Inquisitors! Here?


    I faltered in my step.


    These men should not have been here. There should at most have been some bored clerk from the administrative branch, someone so old or incompetent they couldn¡¯t be trusted with a serious job. Actual Inquisitors never came to the more remote corners of the country, not unless there was something major that needed their attention.


    Something horrible.


    Like a vampire.


    Like me.


    I could be the thing that had brought them here. They might know. Someone from Birnstead might have sent word ahead, somehow. Or something else could have given me away. They could be here to kill me.


    No. Relax. They were all aggression and dominance and excited worry to my nose, but they were still behind the counter. No taste of freshly wetted steel on my tongue. No hum of charged Tonaltus in the air. Simply three Inquisitors hunched over a table, arguing. They must be here for an entirely different reason. Nothing wrong at all, and I had interacted with Inquisitors before, in far more tenuous circumstances.


    Sarding awful monasteries, always built on natural Tonaltus fields. Thank the divines this is merely the side room of a city temple.


    I turned my brief slip, the short, hesitant falter as I entered the room, into an act. Everyone would startle if they came across a full Inquisition team, and so I did too. That I recovered faster than most people was part of my act as well, the young hunter girl whose dad had been an Inquisitor.


    When I stepped up to the counter, and rapped it to grab the attention of the three Inquisitors huddled around the table behind it, they studiously ignored me. Far too engrossed in their little strategy meeting to bother with an insignificant kid hunter.


    Huffing, I flipped my hair over my shoulder in a perfectly childish act of pretend-annoyance, turned my back on them, and leaned against the counter. Aiming for an even more impressive display of casual boredom and utter disrespect for the stuffy adults, I raised myself up onto the very tips of my toes ¡ª stupid child body ¡ª so that I could rest my elbows on the awkwardly high countertop.


    Craning my neck to look up, I faked studying the beams that held up the ceiling of this little side-room while I strained my ears and listened in. Meanwhile, because no real ten-year-old kid would be able to handle the tedium of waiting, I tapped a foot on the floor in emulation of a nervous tic. Without any apparent rhythm to it, of course, for maximum annoyance.


    Hate this!


    Hate hate hate hate acting like a little brat.


    I was an adult. I despised this childish act I was engaging in. But I needed to know what was going on. Whatever had them so captivated, I intended to be in on it. For that, I would need to be impertinent. They would only accept this kind of behavior from a child. I would simply have to endure.


    I did not need to wait long to get an impression of why they were here. Names were mentioned. Names of places, settlements, and towns all along the Maru river. They were cross-referencing them with requests for a monster hunter to plot a timeline of attacks.


    When the name Birnstead was dropped, I took that as my cue. Without even looking at them, I rapped the counter. Once. Twice. Waited until they resumed their conversation. A third, more insistent knock. Still they ignored me.


    These three men were not mere peasant militia. They were better than any knight. They were the Inquisitors. Recruited almost exclusively from the nobility and gentry, schooled in the arts of warfare and magic, they were the joint elite force that united all of mankind against inhuman threats. They were accustomed to being treated with the utmost respect. Perfect deference when they were on obviously important Inquisition business.


    They were unused to interruptions from insolent street kids, and incredibly bad at dealing with them. They stopped talking every time I knocked. And I in turn rapped the counter as soon as they started talking again. At my fourth knock, I glanced over my shoulder at them and shouted out along with it.


    The Fibrous-limestone-beetle tasting one with his back straight towards me bravely continued his explanation for another half a sentence. Then he lost track of what he had been saying. He stared up at his two colleagues on either side of the table, who had long ago stopped pretending to pay attention and were already looking my way. Then he looked further up towards the rafters as if beseeching divine aid.


    ¡°Impatient little thing,¡± I heard him mutter, so quiet I probably wasn¡¯t supposed to catch it ¡ª everyone always underestimated how good my hearing was. With a loud sigh he turned around, took one large stride toward the counter, and slammed his hands down on it. ¡°What do you want, Girl?¡±


    To keep up my act I let a startled, high-pitched squeak slip past my lips as I ducked down out of his sight. Perfectly feigned childish fear. I could probably even afford to be a little cheeky. Head peeking out from cover, I gave the Inquisitor an embarrassed, cutesy smile, careful not to accidentally show any fangs.


    There were risks in being this insolent to Inquisitors, but these three clearly weren¡¯t looking for me and did not suspect my true nature at all. That made them just like all the Inquisitors I had interacted with before. A little surly. A dash of typical high-birth haughtiness, dampened by their time in the field interacting with us ordinary people. But in the end, still very much human, with all the same weaknesses I could exploit.


    This Inquisitor¡¯s taste in particular wasn¡¯t anywhere near as angry as he carried himself. In fact, hidden behind the annoyance and the limestone and the beetle there was even a hint of¡­ something. Perhaps amusement. I wondered what would happen if I prodded at that. Straightening up, pulling my head out from between my shoulders, I risked a little giggle.


    ¡°Well?¡± the beetle-blood Inquisitor insisted. Despite the growl in his voice and the dark look he gave me, the corners of his lip showed a little upwards twitch of their own.


    ¡°Hiiiiii,¡± I grinned, letting all of the childlike cuteness that I usually scrubbed from my voice slip in again. ¡°I might have heard you talking about Birnstead?¡± I strained my neck to glance past him, in the direction of their map. ¡°Just got back from a job over there. Think it might be related?¡±


    ¡°You were listening?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I half-grimaced in a display of guilty innocence.


    Yes, simply guilty innocence. Not at all self-loathing and a desire to drown in my own embarrassment. I was an adult and being mistaken for a child disgusted me, especially when I had to demonstrate how good I was at acting like one. Still, looking like a little kid had its perks. If I had tried this looking two to three years older I would have received a trashing. Instead, I was being classified as too young to receive the full brunt of his fury.


    The Limestone-beetle Inquisitor straightened his shoulders and pulled himself to his full height. ¡°Should be more careful who you listen in on, Girl.¡±  The tone of his voice and his posture still carried all his belligerent superiority. Yet there was also the half-step away to grant me my personal space, and a hint of compassion in his scent.


    Really far too used to this kind of childish behavior.


    Guy sooo has a kid.


    Let¡¯s have some fun with that.


    Playing into that compassion of his, I shrugged and then fidgeted like a child caught stealing food from the pantry.


    The Inquisitor¡¯s shoulders slumped, a clear sign he did not know how to deal with my complete disregard for his authority. ¡°You¡¯re not the least bit intimidated, are you?¡±


    I shrugged once more, then glanced away. I spoke softly, morosely, as if my words were something forbidden. ¡°Dad was an Inquisitor.¡±


    He stopped focussing on me, his eyes instead drifting down towards his hands. ¡°My condolences.¡±


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°He¡¯s not dead, you know, just retired.¡± I chuckled, a little childish laugh to disguise my elation.


    Some clever guesswork in regards to his fatherly instincts, accompanied by sufficient amounts of childishness to trigger them, while maintaining enough mature indifference to be elevated above a mere annoying nuisance. Then a pinch of inexact phrasing, and a bit of subtle body language to accompany it, and I had gotten the exact reaction I had been aiming for. Hunters and Inquisitors. Deadly professions. As soon as you mentioned someone was one of them, in the past tense, everyone assumed that person was now dead. I had my fun with it. Yes, even against Inquisitors.


    Now that I had him unbalanced, all I needed to do was capitalize on this opportunity. While the Inquisitor acted all kinds of flustered, I turned my back to him. Similarly pretending to be embarrassed at the misunderstanding, I rummaged through my stuff as if looking for something. When he least expected it, I filled the intervening silence with an offhand mention of my name. ¡°Valentina, by the way.¡±


    After so long not using it, the very sound of my full name grated in my ears and twisted my gut. Yet I still had to use it, ugly bits and all. With my dad an Inquisitor, these men would expect a proper noble name, not a commoner bastardization.


    ¡°Ah... um... Lowe, Grantandius Lowe,¡± the Inquisitor responded automatically.


    And just like that, I had managed to acquire the Beetle-blood¡¯s given name, something he would otherwise have been reluctant to let slip. Being on a first-name basis would make him even more compassionate towards me.


    Acting as if I had finally found what I was looking for, I pulled out the proof of slaying. With my back still turned to him, I held it high over my head, probably somewhere close to eye height for the Inquisitor, and waved it back and forth. ¡°Birnstead. Three ahuizotl and a nest. All taken care of.¡±


    This was the riskiest part. Physical contact with an Inquisitor was dangerous for me. Every single one of them might be trained in the detection of hidden monsters. If he touched my gloved fingers while taking that proof of slaying, he might notice my claws hidden underneath the leather. If he touched my skin, and bothered to check, he might even sense I had a Metzus vessel instead of a normal Atlus one.


    At the same time, people were weird about touch, so I wasn¡¯t worried too much.  I could hand people things all day long and have no one even come near to brushing my fingers. I could cover that slip of paper with most of my hand, and this man would go out of his way to pry it out from between my fingers without touching them.


    Sometimes, to successfully pretend to be human, you have to be bold. If I was this young and cute, this callous in front of an Inquisitor, if even my dad was part of the Inquisition, then surely I could not be a monster. I barely needed to do anything. People classified me as harmless and human all on their own.


    Inquisitor Lowe snatched the slip of paper out of my hand. ¡°You? Take out three ahuizotl?¡± He sounded absolutely incredulous.


    I turned back to face him, leaned on the counter, and grinned my childish grin. ¡°Like I said, Dad was an Inquisitor. I know how to take care of myself.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Inquisitor Lowe stared a hole through the proof of slaying, then turned to the two men behind him, who were now eyeing me with a strange mix of concern and disbelief as well. ¡°Looks like Birnstead¡¯s taken care of,¡± Grantandius explained unnecessarily.


    ¡°What¡¯s all this anyway,¡± I seized the moment of confused skepticism to gesture towards their map.


    ¡°Birnstead¡¯s not an isolated incident. There¡¯s been a number of ahuizotl sightings, all up and down the Maru. Birnstead was the furthest one south though.¡±


    ¡°The floodings?¡± I asked. When I had taken down those three ahuizotl I had guessed they had been brought downriver with the rainfall and the floodings from last winter. Now it seemed like that guess was being confirmed. ¡°You¡¯re here to scour the riverbanks?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Inquisitor Lowe sighed. ¡°All the way from here to Garn.¡±


    ¡°Mind if I take a look?¡± I nodded in the direction of the table they had organized their impromptu strategy meeting around, deliberately directing the question toward the two silent Inquisitors.


    ¡°The point of this is to not get little kids killed trying to take on ahuizotl,¡± one of the two growled in response.


    Ignoring the man¡¯s refusal, I slipped past the counter anyway, pointing towards the proof of slaying I had handed over. ¡°Think I proved myself already.¡±


    The thing about ¡®may I¡¯ questions was that the answer did not matter. Even a negative answer was engagement in the conversation. From there on I could simply continue as if I did have permission.


    The third Inquisitor, the mud-drenched-eal tasting one with his fat fingers plastered all over the map, protested my approach to their table anyway.


    His loud offended grunts came too late. I simply ignored his objections, shimmied in between his massive bulk and the table, scooted his hand away from the western edge of Thysa, and hummed in contemplation as I studied the various markers they had placed on top of the depiction of the Maru river. ¡°Really a lot of ground to cover so close to their hatching season, isn¡¯t it?¡± I tilted my head towards Grantandius.


    ¡°Yeah, and we¡¯re the only team assigned to this as well. Will probably take us the better part of a month to take care of this,¡± he shared.


    I admired their optimism. Garn was a solid two weeks upriver from Birnstead, and that was over relatively well-maintained roads. When following the banks of the Maru, and when paying close attention to every mound of dirt and pawprint, the journey would take significantly longer. Then I wasn¡¯t even counting the Brinehall Marsh, and all of the little eddies, side-rivers, creeks, and ponds. Or the simple fact that a river has two banks you need to check.


    ¡°You setting out soon then, I suppose?¡± I asked, ignoring the dread bubbling up inside me, and showing myself sympathetic to their plight instead. ¡°I¡¯ll probably head back in the direction of Birnstead. Could show you guys where the nest was?¡±


    I intended to stay in Birnstead. Inquisition hunting parties showing up could ruin that. Worse, everyone there knew what I was. If anyone told the Inquisitors¡­ If Onar¡ª


    ¡°That... would be helpful actually,¡± Inquisitor Lowe said. ¡°No pay though.¡±


    ¡°Not all of us do this for the money, Grantandius.¡± I frowned.


    ¡°Grant¡¯s fine.¡±


    I had risked the use of his full given name, instead of addressing him with the much more respectable ¡®Inquisitor Lowe¡¯. In return he had given me his common name, yet another sign of his trust in me.


    The acquired trust wouldn¡¯t carry me much further though. Any second now, their minds would catch up to the speed I was rushing through this conversation. One of the three adults would recognize how I had forced myself on a common name basis with them, or that we were chatting amiably, hunched over an expensive map that perhaps contained military secrets. It would register that they had dropped their guard and had been done in by a child. I needed to be gone before that happened.


    One final push though.


    My next step was not likely to succeed. Once something became Inquisition business, it was never outsourced. I still felt like I needed to try, for Onar¡¯s peace of mind. Shae¡¯s dad had run away from all things Inquisition and vampire. My presence in Birnstead had already forced the man to confront some very unpleasant memories. If these Inquisitors passed by Birnstead, it would get so much worse for him.


    No, that was a lie right there. I did not care about Onar. I was steering this conversation in this direction for my own safety. If these three passed by Birnstead, they would talk to Onar. If they spoke with Onar, he would tell them what I was. Other people might as well. After that, it would make no difference whether I returned to Birnstead now or chose to run instead. The entire Inquisition would be after me, and then I would be dead. No matter what, I needed to keep this Inquisitor team out of Birnstead.


    I measured on an expression that was equal parts worried and excited. Slightly worried, because I was making an offer that even a child knew was madness. Stupidly excited, because being able to work alongside legendary Inquisitors would be every ten-year-old hunter¡¯s dream come true. Then, I let a mischievous smile crinkle my eyes. ¡°If it saves you guys time I could probably scout the part of the Maru from here to Birnstead for you?¡±


    For a moment, Grant seemed to consider my offer.


    Inquisitor Lowe¡¯s consideration was interrupted by his mud-covered-eal colleague. Almost as if he was swatting at flies, the man brushed away my suggestion with a sweeping gesture of his arm. ¡°Out of the question!¡±


    At first, it looked like I could still power through the refusal, but then Grant took a step back. The Mud-drenched-eel crossed his arms, and the third Inquisitor placed his hands on his hips.


    Quick as that, I lost control of the conversation and was forced to drop the subject. I shrunk down in a display of meekness and slunk out of the circle they had formed around me and the table. ¡°Yeh, figured as much. To be honest, three ahuizotl was plenty dangerous enough. I¡¯ll gladly leave this to you guys.¡±


    There was no point insisting, or begging, or looking the least bit excited or passionate about my proposal. A child, hunting ahuizotl, taking over an Inquisitor''s job was preposterous on its own. Trying to force this in any way was more danger than I wanted to risk. Despite how callously I had treated this conversation so far, these men were still Inquisitors. We were still in an Inquisition building. If I overstepped too much, they would start questioning my motivations, maybe even begin wondering why a child of an Inquisitor had become a monster hunter. Them coming to Birnstead was bad enough without them growing so wary of me that they would start asking everyone there pointed questions about the suspicious monster hunter girl.


    With little left in terms of excuses I could use to stretch the conversation or sway them, I simply reminded them that I would be in Birnstead to point out where the nest had been, and filed out.


    The remainder of my errands, new gloves, a farrier for my horse, and a cobbler, happened in a miserable blur. Back at the inn, I could not even find any enjoyment in my usual nighttime misdirection. There were so many fun ways to make people not notice that the person sleeping next to them had claws and talons. Unlike all the other times I had done it, it was no longer a way to toy with the meat. It was just a chore now, a desperate and pointless way to avoid discovery for a few days longer.


    The slow torpor that was my closest approximation of sleep did not bring me any solace that night. Instead, I remained painfully alert for hours and hours, thoughts churning, considering the consequences. So much for happy memories, and weeks of bliss. Dying suddenly and violently had always been a certainty for me. I had been perfectly fine accepting that I would be killed somewhere in the next couple of months. It was nice and vague enough to seem a long way off if I did not think about it too much.


    Now however, if I returned to Birnstead I would be lucky to last the week.

 Side 1.1 — Journey’s End – Part 3

    Usually, Rivenston to Birnstead would have been a three-day trip. Somewhere in the afternoon of the second day, I realized I was only an hour out from the little village. Leaving before dawn, traveling until far into the night, and significant segments ¡ª mostly before dawn and after dusk ¡ª where I walked beside my horse instead of riding had drastically cut down on the usual travel time.


    Fern did not like the murderous pace one bit.


    I didn¡¯t either, but for entirely different reasons. I was going the wrong way, doing the wrong thing. Indecision was the only thing guiding me closer to Birnstead. Returning there had been my initial plan. I needed a new one, preferably before I arrived. My trepidation grew with every step I came nearer to the town, yet a clever plot to keep myself alive remained out of reach.


    It should have been easy. Those three Inquisitors would pass by Birnstead. Onar would report me. If I stayed in Birnstead, I would be waiting for my executioners to arrive. And the moment they learned of me, runners and messenger birds would be sent out to locate and dispatch all nearby Inquisition teams. Returning only brought me closer to death. Even though I had nowhere else to go, no place I could safely hide, I still had to get as far away as I could.


    Simply, blindly, run!


    Turn around.


    Run away.


    I could not do it. Not after promising I would be back. There were so many... too many feelings now wrapped up in that place to just run away from it.


    Feelings I only ever pretended to have, I reminded myself.


    It made no difference, that reminder. Inevitably, Birnstead came nearer.


    Stepping out of the forest, onto that last stretch of road before the town itself, I could see the idyllic place right in front of me. Daylight-blind, and I could still see it. The whispers in the air spoke to me, as clear as sight could. Places, people, they all had such distinct, lovely scents. Nothing was better than returning to a place you hadn¡¯t even known you could miss. Even though I had been gone for only a couple of days, just breathing the air, taking in the experience...


    Soooo lovely.


    So, sooooo¡­


    Why?


    Why me? Why do I need to keep making these terrible decisions? Why do I always make things harder on myself?


    Pulling my blade out of its scabbard, I pretended I could see my reflection. It would be an ugly thing that stared back. A vampire pretending it was a little girl. A mimicked mockery of life. A predator that knew to blend in perfectly with its prey, waiting for just the right moment to strike.


    I would go in. Tell them I could not stay. Warm them about the coming Inquisitors, in case Rafe wanted to shield Onar from them.


    Or something like that.


    Then run, fast as I could.


    Easy.


    If only thinking something was easy actually made it that way. One clop of my horse¡¯s hooves after another, Fern led me into town. As usual, everything was quiet, with people either out working in the fields or logging near the river.


    No one paid attention to me. For the first time this summer, I did not sneak into this town, but rode in normally, and no one seemed to care. They all knew what I was, yet no one ran away screaming or came to stop me. Not even Onar, though maybe that was just because he was working in his field, on the other side of his barn, and had not seen me approach.


    Or maybe no one dared to approach me. Not even Shae, who was working alongside her dad. Perhaps they had all hoped I would not return. Maybe all of the ¡®you are welcome to stay here¡¯ had just been a big lie, a fake kindness, or even honest fear; no one but Onar daring to tell me they did not want a vampire here.


    No, that was just a plain vindictive thought, born from my mood. Meg would never be able to hide malice behind pretend kindness. Reya would straight up flog anyone who tries being that deceptive.


    I left Fern outside and entered the bunkhouse through the communal entrance. It was still early enough in the evening for the common room to be empty, so I marched straight past all the empty tables toward the door leading to Rafe and Eryn¡¯s living quarters.


    Remembering Reya¡¯s insistence that I not barge into people¡¯s homes unannounced I raised my hand to knock.


    Hesitated.


    They would expect me to flee west, even further away from the capital. That meant my best chance at running was probably to head northeast, cut a path across most of the country, and cross the border into the Aberny Republic. From here in Birnstead I could even make a quick little detour to the west, misdirect pursuers by making everyone in town think I had fled across the Maru river.


    Reaching the Aberny border would take weeks though. I would not last that long. I would be the first vampire in Thysa. Ever. They would spread word everywhere, the entire continent on the lookout for someone matching my description. The panic alone, once news spread that a vampire was loose, would be utter madness. Cities under lockdown. Patrols on the roads. Manhunts during the day. Only the nights would grant me respite. No one was mad enough to ambush a vampire at night.


    And even if, with miraculous luck, I would make it all the way to Aberny, that would not make any difference. Borders were useless when the entire continent was united against the vampire threat. Not even sneaking on a boat to Ostea would help me. With the blockade, the only ships that sailed there were Inquisition warships.


    The door in front of me opened, a worried Eryn looking down at me. I hadn¡¯t even knocked yet. I had been about to, and then my thoughts had wandered.


    How long have I been standing here?


    Aaaaah¡­ soooo embarrassing.


    I had to say something, but I did not know where to start. Instead, we stared at each other. When the prolonged silence became too much I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Inquisitors are coming.¡±


    Again we both stared at each other, startled by the words that had fallen out of my mouth, the truth presented so bluntly and suddenly that it needed time to sink in. Simply stating this fact out loud should not be able to have this much of an impact. But it did. I felt the truth twisting, coiling deep inside me, taking root, snatching away what flimsy specks of hope still remained.


    Inquisitors were coming, and my days of hiding were over. It would be nothing like the slow reveal of my secrets to the people of Birnstead had been. It would be immediate. Harsh. Final.


    I would die.


    And I was sitting in Rafe and Eryn''s kitchen, a mug of something hot and steaming ¡ª soup maybe ¡ª thrust into my hands, and I had no idea how the mug had gotten there or how I had ended up in this chair.


    Eryn was fussing over me. The soup smelled like disgustingly inedible vegetables. People were filing in. Nebby. Rafe. Reya, accompanied by that one woman who had helped me carry Uncle Tare the first time the old man had been good enough to come outside. Meg and Gery, their two kids in tow.


    It was just like when I had first confronted the loggers out by the river. Just like when I had come back from taking care of the ahuizotl. Just like when I had first admitted to the entire village that I was not human. The instant something interesting happened, everyone in this tiny backwater place showed up to witness it. Only, all those other instances had been outside, with plenty of space for people to stand. This was in a one-room hovel.


    It was too much. Too many people. I had not fed since Rivenston. Chicken-broth Eryn''s too-small living quarters were suddenly stuffed with a press of bodies. The air was thick with the worry of a startled herd of animals right before panic turned the throng into a mad scramble for safety. A far, far, far more enticing taste than the soup.


    I chewed the rim of the mug, a frantic attempt to still my feral thoughts, but the mug was solid, tough, entirely without the subtle give of flesh. I needed to do something else to stop the tide of prey from swelling even thicker.


    ¡°You don''t understand,¡± I hissed, launching into an explanation in a desperate bid to distract myself from the hunger. ¡°It''s Onar... It''s...¡±


    My words went unheard, lost in the excitement and fear and worry that drifted in with the townspeople. Rationally I knew there weren¡¯t that many people here. The tiny indoor space simply made it seem much busier. But the raw emotion itched and teased and pulled and tempted me in a way that made the warmth and friendship these people presented nothing but a dim and distant thing compared to their delightful taste.


    ¡°¡­please?¡± I growled out through clenched teeth, looking decidedly down at my mug because I did not want anyone to spot the cold hunger in my eyes.


    Lemongrass Meg¡¯s little nibble wailed as it picked up on the anxiety of the adults. People raised their voices to be heard over the crying child. The Lemongrass-and-cotton mother somehow made soothing noises to the little thing that overpowered every other noise.


    A resounding bang cut through everything. The prey jumped and ducked in fright. I was already halfway out of the chair and reaching for a weapon before I realized it was just Pepper-blood Reya slamming the front door shut, deliberately loud and shocking to get everyone¡¯s attention.


    Steaming hot soup from the mug I¡¯d let go off sloshed all over my legs.


    Hot! Scalding hot!


    Pretend to jump and flail and scream in pain, you idiot!


    I was spent and ran ragged. Blisteringly hot liquid simply did not bother me the way it bothered everyone else. They all knew anyway and it was hopeless. And so, in the sudden silence that followed the deafening bang, when the thud of the mug hitting the floor turned everyone¡¯s gazes back to me, I simply dropped that part of my human mimicry. I sat back down, and let the hot soup seeping through my clothes gently warm me.


    ¡°Everyone that doesn''t need to be here, out!¡± Reya''s anger cut through the quiet. She opened the door she¡¯d just slammed shut. Her finger resolutely pointed at the exit allowing no room for discussion.


    People scuffed their feet, whatever reservations and excuses they had quickly squashed under the weight of Reya''s gaze. When Nebby gently guided everyone towards the door, no one protested.


    Eryn collapsed in the only other chair. ¡°Entirely...¡± The frail woman gasped for breath. ¡°Entirely... too much... excitement...¡±


    The Chicken-broth woman¡¯s heartbeat resounded in my ears, the familiar unsteady flutter of it reached a pitch that was far too fast, far too loud, far too close to collapsing in on itself.


    Oldest.


    Weakest.


    Rafe and Nebby hurried to her side. Fussed over her. Pointlessly late, the rhythm of Eryn¡¯s breathing and heartbeat was already steadying.


    After Reya had forced the woman that had entered with her out with a surprisingly gentle shove, I picked the fallen mug up from the ground, wiped it clean with the edge of my sleeve, and put it down on the table. ¡°I''m sorry,¡± I said. ¡°This is my fault. I shouldn''t have come here. Shouldn''t have stayed. Shouldn''t have come back. But if they arrive unannounced, Onar... Onar... he won''t... I don''t want him to... like...¡±


    I gave up on my own excuses. These people knew me almost as well as my dad and Uncle Hadrian did. There was no way someone like Reya would believe my lies. I did not care about Onar. I did not care about his traumas. I merely did not want him to betray me. Stating anything else, like that I wanted to protect him from the sudden shock of Inquisitors showing up in Birnstead, I could not bring myself to voice that.


    I grabbed hold of the entire confusing mess of emotions inside of me that made this so difficult. The fake ones I used to pretend to these people I was a cute and innocent little thing. The very real fear of my looming demise. The bewildering ones that had started out as nothing but a mask and had somehow grown roots, sprouted leaves, and become a wild bramble beyond my control. I buried all of it deep inside, pretended to wipe tears out of my eyes to disguise the sudden change in my composure, and when I dropped my arms again there was nothing left of the utter mess I had been moments before.


    ¡°I''m really sorry. I need to leave,¡± I stated plainly, stood up, and turned towards the exit.


    Before I could open the door, Reya''s hand pressed down on my shoulder. ¡°Good idea. We too should give Rafe and Erin some space. Why don¡¯t you come over to my place while these three get things ready?¡± She tilted her head towards Rafe, Eryn, and Nebby. ¡°We can have dinner. And once you¡¯re all settled in we can figure this out together.¡±


    What?


    Why¡¯d she say it like that?


    That wasn¡¯t what she wanted to do at all. I understood that from scent and tone alone. How upset she was with me. How much more worried she was about Eryn. There was care and affection there in a way that no one would ever have for me. She wanted me gone. Away from here. Out of their lives. I knew that. It was better that way. Better without me scaring Eryn half to death. Better if Reya spent time on people that deserved her care. Better if the town healer did not waste her time on monsters like me that were days away from being killed.


    The door in front of me was pulled open. A blur of orange hair, caught up in a wildflower breeze barrelled into me. Arms wrapped themselves around my back. A chin rested on my shoulder. Tangles of hair halfway free from their braids tickled my nose. A wild and hiccuping laugh bubbled up from deep inside Shae¡¯s heart. ¡°You really came back. Vale! You really came back!¡±


    I lifted a hand, prepared to embrace her in turn, then dropped it again. She did not know. About the news I had brought. Not yet. She had simply stormed in, and slipped past everyone, ignoring all the commotion. I could not. Could not reciprocate. Not with her happiness in such stark contrast to everything else.


    When I did not move, did not reply, did not say anything, her hands untangled from my back and slid down my arms as she took a step back. Even totally unbothered Wildflower Shae could tell something was wrong.


    ¡°Vale?¡±


    When she tried to look me in the eyes, I stared at the ground instead.


    She let go of me entirely, and took in everything else instead. Her head whipped from one person to the next. Eryn and Rafe, standing next to each other wrapped in a cloud of worry. Nebby, silent and demure instead of energetic and happy. Reya, sour and glum as always. Then finally, finding me again, alone in this room despite everyone else being here with me.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Her voice, laced with bitter disappointment, was the smallest, saddest thing I had ever heard.

 Side 1.1 — Journey’s End – Part 4

    I could not bring myself to explain. Not to Shae. Not with the same bluntness I had used earlier. Not when even I did not know what I had really come back for. Was I Fleeing? Was I here to warn Onar? Had I intended to threaten everyone not to betray me, or had I hoped to inform them it was alright if they all condemned me to death?


    But most of all, I could not explain to Shae because she was so pure while the truth was a wicked, twisted thing. I was lost and selfish and confused and going to die, and did not know a single kind way to convey this to Shae.


    Last winter she had found out my true nature by mere accident. All it had taken was a single careless moment on my end. She had been the first ever stranger to truly see the truth of me. And more than that, she had not been afraid. Instead, she had shown concern. She had found an inhuman, unbreathing creature of claw and fang resting in a barn, and rather than run from the monster she had worried that I might be dead.


    I still cherished that memory, her honesty and innocence. And even though she had grown out of some of that childlike wonder since then, she would always be that first person to me. I still recognized so much of the girl from half a year ago in the way she¡¯d just bounded in, ignoring everything and everyone and simply wrapping herself around me. In how she welcomed me back, oblivious to everything else.


    Shae was special. Precious. I Could not bring myself to tell her, this little girl who so firmly believed she could finally have her dad and me both in her life, that the world was cruel and unjust.


    Answering her should have been so simple. I merely had to do what I always did. Everywhere. To everyone.


    I Lied. I showed everyone a fake version of me. I presented myself as a cute child hunter because it suited my underdeveloped body. I pretended to be harmlessly human because it kept me from being noticed. I behaved like a loner and a drifter, because staying in one place and getting to know people risked discovery. And when I returned from an unusually dangerous hunt I always joked about how uncannily good at staying alive I was because the truth ¡ª that someone already dead couldn¡¯t be killed so easily ¡ª was that much more sinister.


    All I had to do was lie once more. Not a big lie, but a slight bending of the truth. It would be enough. It would be a kinder, more gradual way to ease Shae into this new reality.


    Yet I could not manage even that.


    She probably considered me her friend. And that¡­ friendship? Such a wild concept. I¡¯d never had friends before. I had never bothered to study how friends were supposed to interact. It was so far removed from anything I considered possible. I had my family ¡ª my dad, my Uncle. Everyone else was mere acquaintances, a means to an end. People I had necessary interactions with to achieve a goal. And then I moved on to someplace else.


    Is this what I sought in coming back here?


    Happiness? Friendship?


    Do I have friends now?


    Can I lie to a friend?


    It was taking me too long to find the proper words. First, it crept into Shae¡¯s scent. Then it seeped into her posture. The accusatory ¡®you promised¡¯ began to shape itself and soon it would reach her lips. When it did, if she voiced her hurt, it would cut through every last layer of pretend-composure I had wrapped myself in.


    It was yet another thing that became inexplicably difficult in this little village. If I did not like how something made me feel, I simply felt nothing. If people expected me to behave a certain way, I leaned into that. If a situation required a certain kind of person, I became that person. I did not just lie with words. I lied with my face and my body, my everything. This perfect control I had over the way I presented myself, this mimicry of every aspect of humanity, I relied on it to survive above all else.


    But here, in Birnstead, it was so impossibly hard. It was harder still when faced with Shae.


    It was Nebby who saved me. She stepped between me and Shae, took hold of both our hands, and addressed my wildflower friend with a soft-spokenness that was entirely unlike the bright, cheery, unbothered Nebby I knew.


    ¡°We¡¯re not the only place along the Maru that had those river monster things, Shae,¡± Nebby said. She waited for Shae to nod in understanding before continuing. ¡°They¡¯re a bit much for normal hunters to handle, so Inquisitors are going to be checking the banks of the river, from Rivenston all the way up to who knows where.¡± She briefly turned to me to confirm she had explained it right. ¡°That unfortunately means they¡¯ll be coming here, poking around. Vale worries how your dad will take it?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± Shae exhaled, and both her happiness and her frustration disappeared together with the air escaping her lungs.


    Nebby continued her explanation, somehow finding a far kinder way to state I was about to die than I ever imagined possible. ¡°But more than anything, Vale fears we¡¯re going to rat her out to the Inquisitors.¡±


    I barely had time to wonder how Nebby was so good as this before the girl demanded my attention by bumping my shoulder. ¡°And again, Vale. We totally won¡¯t. Alright.¡±


    I did not know how to react to that. Nebby¡¯s explanation made the whole thing seem strangely mundane. Trivial even. When Nebby had brought the Academy doctor to check on Uncle Tare, people in this town had told the man that I was nothing but a meek child hunter. They had withheld the truth to keep me safe, despite knowing what I really was. Maybe things would turn out fine this time as well.


    Shae hopped closer, grasped my hands, and brought them up to her chin. ¡°You came back, even though it is so much more dangerous for you now?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± I stammered.


    My hope at Nebby¡¯s naive fantasy outcome evaporated. Shae was right. It was horrifically more dangerous for me now. No one had actually lied to the Academy doctor on my behalf. There had only been some accidental omissions regarding my nature. I could not count on that happening again. Humans weren¡¯t as good with lies as I was. Withholding the truth ate at people. They wouldn¡¯t do that for me a second time.


    These were Inquisitors that were coming as well. They were living legends, exemplars of virtue, and protectors of mankind. No one here would lie to someone like that, not for me. Telling them would be such a relief for the people of Birnstead, definitely a better option than lying. When questioned they could simply explain they had been forced to shelter a vampire.


    Nebby was suggesting that the people of Birnstead actually hide my nature from the Inquisition. That would no longer be them simply claiming ignorance. It would require them to actively deceive Inquisitors, and to boldly lie when questioned. That made no sense. I was no one to these people. It wouldn¡¯t even work. All it took was one person speaking up, and then everyone that had lied for me would be in trouble.


    If you could not trust everyone to follow the lie, the best option was to tell the truth. Right? So why would they even consider lying for me?


    With no answer from me, Shae turned to Rafe. ¡°You need me to help bring this up with my dad?¡±


    ¡°Maybe not,¡± he responded automatically.


    Eryn instantly contradicted her husband. ¡°You should talk to the man before news reaches him through other channels, don¡¯t you think, Honey?¡± The Chicken-broth wife patted her husband on the hand and then, holding on to the table for support, got up from her chair.


    Reya waved Rafe and Shae off as well. ¡°Eryn¡¯s right. You two go do that. We can figure out the details later. I¡¯ll stay here and look after Eryn.¡±


    ¡°I am old, dear, not dying. I can look after myself just fine,¡± Eryn berated Reya. ¡°Just need to take things a little slower now and then and I¡¯ll be perfectly fine.¡± She let go of the table to prove her point, crossed her arms, and waited patiently for her husband and Shae to leave.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Chicken-broth Eryn¡¯s act might have been enough to fool her husband, but it did not manage to trick me. Every species had subtle tells that betrayed the frailest of the herd. Now that I had noticed, the signs were impossible to hide. Her weakness lingered, in tension, posture, and careful movement. It even seeped into her smell. But there was nothing I could do to fix this. This was not an infection, a broken bone, or a combat wound, but old age and far subtler ails.


    Reya did not appear fooled either. A quick tilt of her head towards the door made it clear she wanted some time alone with Eryn. ¡°Nebby, could you make it so Vale stays out of any more trouble until we¡¯ve managed to deal with everything?¡±


    Nebby hopped over to me and grabbed onto my arm. ¡°No trouble? Can do. Just leave it to me.¡±


    Without waiting to see if I agreed, the girl dragged me outside, straight into a group of people suspiciously loitering right next to the bunkhouse. ¡°Sorry everyone,¡± she said, her words spoken so fast they all strung together. ¡°Not allowed to get into trouble right now. That means I can¡¯t talk. You know how much trouble I get into when I blab. Got to run. Bye!¡±


    I wanted out of her grip, but her firm hold pulled me along as much as it kept me from tumbling to the ground. With the sudden exit into the sun, I needed her steadying hand to remain on my feet, so I begrudgingly allowed it. An offended growl formed at the back of my throat anyway, but with so many people around I forced it down again.


    Nebby only let go of me once we had disappeared into the trees, safely hidden away in the dark of the forest.


    ¡°You stumble a lot,¡± the wild girl commented.


    ¡°It¡¯s the sun,¡± I explained with a snarl, wrenching my hand free from her grip. Running in the sun did not work for me. Not without expending far more Metzus than I was comfortable with. And even then.


    ¡°Oooh, fierce!¡± Instead of taking a step back like a normal person, the Flint-lock-butterfly girl whooped and welcomed my bestial snarl with near-infectious joy.


    That attitude of hers made me fight back another hiss and force a frown on my face instead. I did not like to be perceived as fierce, or dangerous. I detested these wonderfully inhuman desires to snarl and hiss at people. I loathed the relief of sharing my weaknesses so openly. And most of all, I did not want being so utterly myself to feel this addictingly good.


    And more still, I should not want to be here at all. I should be using the time I had left to get away from Nebby, circle back for my horse, somehow avoid all the people in this town that found me interesting, and run.


    Nebby shook her head. ¡°Nope. Nope. Not working. You should tilt those down further.¡± Putting a hand on either side of my head, Nebby massaged her thumbs into my eyebrows. ¡°Good, good. That¡¯s a much better pout already. Now push that jaw forward. Really inflate that lower lip.¡±


    And all it would take was a predator-quick head movement and¡ª


    Don¡¯t snap at her fingers.


    Don¡¯t finger about how butterflies would taste.


    Don¡¯t eat the fingers. Don¡¯t eat the Nebby!


    ¡°What,¡± I hissed, ducking out from under her grasp, ¡°...are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Is it helping?¡± Nebby asked, bringing her face so close our noses almost touched.


    ¡°No. What? Helping?¡± I repeated, darting back to a safer distance.


    ¡°Moping? Is it helping?¡±


    ¡°Wha...¡± I let the word trail off before it could become another repetition. It seemed that assaulted by this barrage of Nebby-ness my vocabulary had been reduced to a single word.


    ¡°I assume not then.¡± She grimaced. ¡°Feel like running away? Want me to sneak your horse out from that crowd and help you get it ready? The faster you get going the more of a lead you¡¯ll have.¡±


    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.


    ¡°Ah¡­ right. Not running yet. Need to plan first. Can¡¯t use the roads after all. They¡¯ll expect that.¡±  The little pest smiled and nodded at her own wisdom. She straightened up, stepped back out of the trees and into the open, then gazed off towards the Maru, one hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun. ¡°Spent a lot of time on the other side of the river when I was little. Could probably give you some nice pointers.¡±


    Ihe other side of the river? When she was little? How did she even get across¡­


    Right. Nebby. Of course. Better not to question it.


    She turned back to me and looked me up and down. ¡°No. No. Not a good idea. You¡¯re right. The Inquisitors will question everyone, and then I would obviously have to tell them everything I told you. Better to ignore my directions and figure out your own path.¡±


    Why?


    I marveled at my own coherence. At least this time I had managed to keep my dumb one-word questions to myself.


    ¡°You ever been to the overlook?¡± Nebby continued her flood of word-vomit. ¡°No. Of course you haven¡¯t. It¡¯s a hill. Nice view. Well, more of a mound of dirt than a hill, but you gotta take what you can get.¡± She pulled me along again. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll show you.¡±


    ¡°Nebby, what are you doing?¡± I yanked my hand free, finally managing to interrupt her endless stream of banalities.


    Does no one care anymore that I¡¯ve got claws hidden in these gloves?


    ¡°Talking.¡± The girl grinned.


    I gave her an exasperated frown at that pathetic explanation. It wasn¡¯t hard to do. This entire exchange had been nothing but exasperated frowns on my end.


    ¡°Not working?¡± She took a step back and leaned against a tree, perfectly relaxed.


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted. I didn''t even know what was supposed to be working, but refused to pose another question beginning with the word what.


    ¡°Sorry, I was just trying to distract you a bit from your worries.¡± She pushed off from the tree. ¡°I¡¯ll stop being such a blabbermouth, okay. At least if you promise to do more than one-word sentences, that is.¡±


    ¡°Fine¡­¡± I ventured.


    Nebby smirked mischievously, and made a twisting, pulling motion with her hand.


    ¡°... I will speak more than one-word sentences,¡± I continued.


    ¡°See, not so hard is it?¡± She smiled a genuinely happy smile and began walking again. ¡°Come on. Not much further. You¡¯ll love the view. Promise.¡±


    ¡°Nebby?¡± I started after her, uncertain how to continue. I¡¯ve never had to explain this to anyone. Either they already knew, like my dad or Uncle Hadrian, or they were Reya, who had figured it out herself.


    ¡°Yep, that¡¯s me!¡± she turned around but continued walking, backward. She tripped over a root, nearly fell, then continued, pretending it hadn¡¯t happened. Again she coaxed me to go beyond the one word I had uttered with a gentle tilt of her head and a reaching hand.


    When she hit her head on a low-hanging branch the words spilled out of my mouth together with a snicker of laughter. ¡°You can¡¯t show me anything. I¡¯m blind out in the sun.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ poop.¡± She sighed and rubbed the back of her head. ¡°For real?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°That sucks.¡± She tapped her foot. ¡°It is kind of mostly sun on the overlook. You won¡¯t be able to admire the view then?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I confirmed, then added a couple more words to not make my reply a proper sentence. ¡°I suppose not.¡±


    ¡°Want to go up there and not-admire the view with me anyway?¡±


    I looked back toward where we had come from. We hadn¡¯t walked particularly far yet, or gone particularly high. The village was still right there, hidden behind the trees. I could find no true malice in anything Nebby did. But being lured away like this, for no discernible reason, still agitated me. It was the kind of thing a predator did. The sort of thing I did. This behavior did not fit with my image of Nebby. I could not figure out why she was doing this, or what her real motivation was.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. Shae knows you¡¯re with me. She¡¯ll find us. No doubt.¡±


    Sighing, I trudged after her. The only predator here was me and if it wasn¡¯t far then I would learn soon enough.


    A little deeper into the forest, away from the very last sounds of civilization, we came upon a tall, jutting rock hiding among the trees. At two or three stories high, covered in moss and with the very tip of it barely cresting the crowns of the trees, it colored the air with fresh, moist, and mineral flavors. Water had seeped off it and gathered in tiny pools at the bottom of it, and hidden in the deep dark foliage not all of it had dried up. Insects attracted to the moisture added a crisp buzz to the quiet rustle of leaves. Nebby had been right. The peaceful majesty of this spot was worth treasuring.


    On the side we had approached from, the one facing the village, the stone was a shear wall. We went around and climbed the gentle slope on the other side. As we ascended, the trees grew sparser, the rock below our feet no longer providing enough of a foothold for the roots of larger plants. The very top had an open space that wasn¡¯t quite high enough above the treetops to be visible from the village but was still bare and warm. Sunny. Bright.


    Nebby stepped forward, into the clearing and the sunlight, spread her arms, and spun in a circle. ¡°Tada!¡±


    The light of the sun penetrated far enough into my secluded shadowy corner that it washed out the landscape in front of me, and melded detail and color together until it was little more than a suggestion. I could only get a vague impression of the sight, but it was enough of a glimpse to understand why Nebby enjoyed herself so much up here. To someone that could see it, the green blur of an endless ocean of trees stretching far into the distance until it blended into the blue of the sky would have been majestic.


    Blinking, I stepped into the open next to Nebby. The uneasy feeling of Tonaltus sunlight weakened me and irritated my flesh. The hint of a resplendent landscape vanished into a complete blur. The butterfly-girl was reduced to nothing but a smudge in that blur, a taste in the air, and the scuffle of feet dancing around me.


    And even though I could not see any of the landmarks Nebby pointed at, the joy layered over her vivid descriptions had me smile with her anyway.

 Side 1.1 — Journey’s End – Part 5

    Nebby¡¯s evil plot worked. For a moment, I completely forgot about my predicament. Even without the use of fancy weaves, without any magic at all, she crafted a spell of words and sights that made me lose my worries, that plunged me entirely into a wholly delightful spectacle.


    For a while, it worked. Then, lengthening shadows crept up my legs and brought blissful relief from the all-consuming warmth. It was a reminder that I was lying down, on my back, basking in the sun.


    Me? In the sun? Basking?


    The magic broke. I was a monster once more. The Inquisitors were still heading this way. I was still mere days removed from either dying at their hand or living the rest of my probably short life as a fugitive.


    I remained. It was nice, the lying down, the doing nothing at all, the comfortable presence of someone that knew what I was and yet wasn¡¯t the least bit afraid. The sun¡­ not so nice. It burned on my exposed face.


    And yet I remain.


    Maybe I¡¯ll manage until sundown.


    Maybe some of the magic still lingers.


    As the sun dipped towards the horizon, I felt Nebby prop herself up on her elbows. ¡°Shae adores you, you know. And I don¡¯t know what you did, but for the first time her and her dad aren¡¯t communicating exclusively in angry shouting.¡±


    I chewed on my lip as I processed that, staring blindly up at the sky. I had given up on even the pretense of tracking her with my eyes when she spoke. She knew I was blind now, and my other senses were more than potent enough for a basic understanding of where she was or what she was doing.


    Nebby flopped back down to the ground. ¡°Please don¡¯t leave,¡± she begged suddenly.


    That impossible plea did make me turn to look at her. ¡°I... I don¡¯t know?¡± I answered after a brief hesitation. Futilely, I blinked against the sun burning my eyes. ¡°It¡¯s no longer safe here for me.¡±


    It¡¯s true. It¡¯s not. Why can¡¯t they see that?


    Just let me go.


    Don¡¯t make this harder than it already is.


    ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± Nebby protested.


    ¡°Nebby-,¡± I chided, ¡°this¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she interrupted me. ¡°I know everyone here takes that tone with me, but not you, please? Okay?¡±


    Something changed in the girl with those words. Maybe it was posture. Maybe it was the sudden sincerity in her voice. Whatever it was, it stirred an unsettling feeling of recognition that made me listen, instead of talk back.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I echoed almost soundlessly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking you to stay because¡­¡± She abandoned her first attempt at explaining with a sucked-in breath and began anew. ¡°I won¡¯t try to convince you that you enjoyed this, that you like it here, that you deserve more than running away and hiding what you are. It¡¯s painfully obvious that you won¡¯t believe any of that bullcrap if I told you. Even though it¡¯s true and not bullcrap at all but¡­ but¡­ look. Last week, Eryn asked you to take on some of my work if you stayed. How much did she offer to pay you for that?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I answered, confused. ¡°Just the room?¡± I had no idea where she was going with this. Her explanation had turned into such a rambling mess I was no longer certain if even she still knew.


    ¡°Just the room huh.¡± She sighed loudly. ¡°Figured as much.¡± She swung her legs high up in the air and then rolled to a sitting position. ¡°Look, don¡¯t tell anyone I told you this, okay? I mean it. I don¡¯t think they want you to know. And if they learn I told you, they¡¯re just going to use it as an excuse to dump even more responsibility on me.¡±


    I sat up as well, trying to study the shape of her. This was nothing like the Nebby that had walked backward into a tree branch, that had violently massaged my eyebrows into a pout, or whose first ever question to me had been ¡®Yo, are you taking my job?¡¯.


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I promised.


    ¡°Alright.¡± Nebby nodded large and exaggerated, apparently pleased enough with my promise to continue. ¡°Eryn, she¡¯s... not as young anymore. She has¡­ fainting spells, the kind you witnessed earlier. Old age and she can¡¯t handle much excitement anymore. It¡¯s not like she¡¯ll admit it, but she can¡¯t both run the bunkhouse and tutor everyone''s kids on her own anymore.


    ¡°It¡¯s why Rafe and I lend her a hand. Except, then we can¡¯t help out with the logging. We kind of really need the money from that to make it past next winter. And then the flood and those monsters as well. Didn¡¯t even manage to attract the usual amount of seasonal workers because of the flooding. So now Onar helps out with the rebuilding and fills in for us. And then Sulla, you know, from the farm right next to Onar¡¯s, started helping Shae on the farm because Onar¡¯s helping too much.


    ¡°Point is, it¡¯s a whole big mess, and all we¡¯re doing is shuffling the work around. We need more hands than we have to get it fixed. You supporting Eryn, even if it¡¯s only a couple of hours each day, it means Rafe and I and a bunch of people can hopefully get back to what we¡¯re supposed to be doing. You have no idea how much that helps. That room is unused anyway. You¡¯re basically free help, at a time we desperately need it.¡±


    I raised my hand. ¡°Why don¡¯t you just¡­¡±


    I snapped my mouth shut and swallowed the remainder of that sentence before it could damage the trust Nebby had placed in me. Following my instinctive desire to point out that they could just have this Sulla person help Eryn and avoid the whole roundabout mess was not helpful. Childish even. Immature. If the solution were that simple, they''d have done it that way already.


    I was not a child. I was the adult here. Though maybe not the only adult. That avalanche of words was still so much Nebby. But there was a seriousness in it, a maturity I had not expected of her. I had seen her as nothing more than a kid, just like Shae. But while Shae had only just turned twelve, Nebby was sixteen, technically an adult. I was beginning to see how much of a difference those four years made.


    It was her that had gone to Rivenston to get a healer for Uncle Tare. Today it had been her and Reya that had managed the crowd. And then she explained my predicament to Shae for me. She had even been there to help me carry Uncle Tare the first time the old man had been good enough to come outside.


    When I had finally revealed the truth about myself to Rafe and Reya and had been a total mess in front of those two and everything had been such a disaster, she had carelessly dashed inside and¡­ she must have already known I was a vampire then. That same evening, when I had been sitting on that log and only Limn had dared to sit with me, she¡¯d practically jumped straight on top of me. Her antics then had broken the tension, a deliberate act I now realized.


    The Nebby that ran into tree branches was just as much a mask as the human child hunter me. The idiot butterfly was more than just an affectionate and dim goof. She merely pretended to be that carefree, to shirk responsibilities. This right here was her dropping that mask, to roundabout tell me that¡­ that this town needed help, and that they¡¯d take it even from a thing like me.


    ¡°Wow,¡± I spoke eventually.


    ¡°See, even you just thought I was an idiot.¡± She giggled merrily and playfully punched my shoulder. ¡°Though if anyone asks, the only reason I took you up here is to prevent you from upsetting everyone with your dinner dance.¡±


    ¡°My dinner dance?¡± I huffed in annoyance.


    Fine, news had traveled. Of course it had. By now everyone here probably knew about the time I had promised half the town I¡¯d be having dinner with someone else, simply so no one would find it suspicious that I did not eat with them. That didn¡¯t mean she had to give it such a ridiculous name.


    She laughed. ¡°Divines, you should have seen Reya¡¯s face when she figured out you had tricked her. Lorne told me it was glorious.¡±


    ¡°Lorne?¡±


    Please tell me I haven¡¯t forgotten yet another person''s name?


    ¡°You know? Lorne?¡± She giggled as the name failed to stir any memories. ¡°Sorry. Sometimes I forget just how new you are in town. Feels like you¡¯ve lived here for weeks but it¡¯s really only days, isn¡¯t it? Reya¡¯s girlfriend. Helped us carry Uncle Tare the first time he came out. Was back at Eryn¡¯s just now. Came in together with Reya.¡±


    ¡°Reya¡¯s¡­ girlfriend¡­¡± I sampled these strange words. ¡°Reya¡¯s¡­ girlfriend?¡± The absurd concept of Reya with a family failed to make sense. ¡°Reya has a family?¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°I know, right? She¡¯s more caring than you think. Just does not know how to show it.¡± Nebby was silent for a moment, appearing to mull over some thought. ¡°Lorne¡¯s gran has sort of been slowly wasting away for a while now. I suppose supporting Lorne with the care for her gran is one way Reya shows her feelings. Her inviting you to dinner was probably the biggest show of affection you were ever going to get out of her. She never has people over for dinner.¡±


    I chewed my lips as I thought. Reya had sort of invited me to dinner again just now, in a sort of very indirect way. I think. Maybe. ¡°Reya invited me to dinner again earlier, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re helping me get out of dinner with Reya?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much.¡± She sniggered.


    I laughed with her.


    ¡°Yeah, just laugh,¡± she said after we were done giggling. ¡°Not only am I risking Reya¡¯s ire. It¡¯s already past dinner time as well. I¡¯m the one skipping dinner for you. Mom and Pop probably think you ate me by now, dumped my body somewhere in the woods, and then ran.¡± A little nervous titter escaped her lips. ¡°Talking about that, I''m really glad you simply told us what was bothering you when you came back, instead of you know¡­ going all stereotypical vampire and killing us all in our sleep to get rid of the evidence.¡±


    What?


    Of course I didn¡¯t just slaughter everyone. That never worked. That was such an absurd human notion, thinking that anger, violence, or murder could fix things. Corpses only ever brought problems. They didn¡¯t...


    I stared up at a sky so bright it was merely an expanse of nothingness to me and properly considered it. Maybe this was one of those rare cases where I shouldn¡¯t just dismiss the idea outright.


    If I assumed that someone would tell on me ¡ª and with 40 or so people in this village that was almost a certainty ¡ª then the Inquisitors would learn my name, my description, and maybe if I was really unlucky even the direction I ran away in.


    A massive slaughter might actually work as a solution. It was certainly a better option than anything I had thought of so far. If I killed everyone then the Inquisition would know nothing about the perpetrator and would only have a days-old trail into the wilderness to go on. All the corpses might make them that much more desperate to catch me though.


    It wouldn¡¯t even be that hard. This town was defenseless. Reya was the only real threat, so I would have to take care of her first. After that, it was just a matter of being silent and fast enough to prevent people from waking up and running away. That would be a pain if I had to start chasing people. Maybe I should just kill the Inquisitors instead. Things would be so much easier if I intercepted them on the way here and caught them unaware in the middle of the night.


    ¡°Um... that was a joke by the way. Could you maybe not... consider this quite so seriously?¡±


    With my body remaining perfectly still, I turned my head to look in Nebby''s direction. She was suddenly nervous, a hint of worry to her, a fidgety nervousness that had nothing to do with her mischievous nature. With me blindly staring at her the worry steadily blossomed into proper fear.


    ¡°If you do kill everyone, could you start with me?¡± Her voice broke, a hint of terror seeping through the levity she tried to project. ¡°I''d rather not listen to the screams of everyone dying, silently wondering who''ll be next.¡±


    Right.


    I was just thinking. I did not actually think I could. Kill them, that is. Not all of them at least. Not as easily as I would have been able to weeks ago. I would have to kill Shae, now that I had just begun to consider her as a potential friend. Murder didn''t seem like the friend thing to do. And maybe, if I was going to be hunted and killed anyway, maybe I wanted to try and taste this having friends thing more than I wanted a dubious and nebulous head-start on the Inquisitors chasing me.


    That would require me to stay though. And staying, even a single night longer, even a couple more hours, was definitely a bad idea.


    Aaaaaah!


    Why is this so hard!


    I shook the predatory focus out of my rigid body, grabbed onto my hair, and pulled it loose from its braid, a very physical demonstration of my frustration. Then I scowled, pulled my eyebrows all the way down, and pushed out my lower lip. As close as I could get my face to the cartoonish pout Nebby had massaged it into earlier today. ¡°I think I like murder jokes just as little as you do,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Thanks¡­ um¡­ that¡¯s reassuring, I guess.¡± The tremble of her voice betrayed that she wasn¡¯t as reassured as she claimed.


    In truth, I wasn¡¯t reassured either. Despite what I wanted, I was not like them. Little moments like this reminded me of that more than anything. Regardless of how I presented myself, despite my best attempts, I remained a predator among prey. Humans might occasionally lash out, often irrationally, in fear, in anger. But they didn¡¯t casually consider slaughtering dozens, without even a hint of remorse. It was unsettling, to them, and to me.


    Would I even know if I suddenly do something horrendously unforgivable?


    This is why they won¡¯t trust me, why they can¡¯t ever trust me.


    Maybe it¡¯s better to simply let the Inquisitors kill me.


    Silence settled between us. While I normally welcomed it, after hours of Nebby¡¯s incessant talk, the lack of it felt hollow. Despite not knowing how, I felt a need to fill the void, and reassure Nebby that I was not as much of an inhuman monster as she now thought.


    If only I knew how to carry a conversation. I needed something human. Silly. Not at all disturbing or threatening. I could probably stretch a conversation with hunting and tracking, but Nebby did not need another reminder of how good a predator I was. Even something as simple as whittling seemed too aggressive now. Calligraphy and penmanship were too boring. Braiding then? Yes, I could probably teach her some original ways to braid her hair.


    Wait.


    Does she even have hair long enough to braid?


    ¡°Nebby, how long is your hair?¡± I asked, only to panic at my own weird out of nowhere question. ¡°Nevermind. Don¡¯t answer that.¡±


    Aaaaah¡­ why can''t she just be in the shade so I can see?


    Why am I never observant enough to notice these things when I can see them?


    I¡¯d have to ask something else now to cover this up. Frantically I dug through the memories of the painfully few instances where I had actually paid attention to what people did to have fun. Adults just got themselves drunk. Kids pretended to be Inquisitors, or worse, engaged in some kind of horrendous make-believe predator-prey activity. Games needed pieces and bits and implements we didn¡¯t have here in the forest, not that I even knew the rules for any.


    Wait.


    The thing those two kids I traded the monastery job with did.


    That would work, right?


    ¡°Are you ticklish?¡± I wiggled my gloved fingers in Nebby¡¯s direction.


    ¡°...no?¡± she edged away from me, clearly uncomfortable with my string of weird questions.


    No no no! This is even worse. How do I fix this?


    Quick! Funny. Be funny!


    ¡°Some people think feeding on them tickles a little. Need to know if I need to silence you before I drink¡ª¡± I rolled to my stomach, slammed my head into the rocky ground, and screamed into the ground until all I could taste was dirt.


    Sarding hell brain! That¡¯s even worse than my eating babies comment.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry sorry, shitty murder joke,¡± I spit out mouthfuls of earth and tiny little stones together with my apology. ¡°Won¡¯t do it again, never fed on anyone, please don¡¯t run away screaming.¡±


    Forehead still on the ground I listened for a reaction. Any reaction? A hint of panic? The sharp taste of fear in the air? The complete lack of a heartbeat that would indicate that Nebby had already run away? No. None of that. She was still here, her flavor a mess of different emotions being filtered through the grit in my nose and mouth.


    Silence. A little chortle. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of dirt you ate. You need to wash out your mouth?¡±


    Hesitantly, I looked up. ¡°No. I¡¯m good. I¡¯m sorry. I wanted to say something not disturbing and then I panicked and then¡­¡± I gestured from her to the ground.


    She warily scooted a little closer. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯re more freaked out by this than I am.¡±


    I tried to get some more sand off my lips and tongue with my hands. Entirely ineffectively. My gloves were covered in the same dirt. Everything tasted even more like earth afterward. I sighed, defeated. ¡°I think I would have preferred a normal dinner over this.¡±


    Nebby laughed.¡°Vale, you¡¯re adorable, but no more creepy vampire jokes at dusk, alright?¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± I happily agreed.


    ¡°And I am not ticklish.¡±


    ¡°You certain about that?¡± A mischievous smirk tugged at my lips. ¡°You are trying to sound entirely too convincing.¡±


    And there¡¯s delightful wildflower mischief sneaking up on us from the forest.


    ¡°I am not and there is no need for you to test it,¡± she snapped, tucking her arms in tight to protect her armpits.


    This was childish. This was stupid. I had only ever seen this done from a distance by little kids, child hunters barely half my age. But I did not need careful observation of the game for this. I did not need a detailed study on how the game differed with older prey. The weak spots on my target were obvious from her posture alone. Armpits. Sides. And the sun was finally dipping low enough to plunge this clearing into the shade and rid me of my weakness.


    I pounced.


    As Nebby spun away from me, she shrieked and peeled with laughter in equal measure. She darted away from the plateau, in exactly the direction I intended her to run. She ducked in between the trees, and was promptly tackled to the ground, Shae getting tangled up in her legs.


    The two teenagers wrestled on the ground, both howling with laughter. ¡°Shoes!¡± Shae instructed me in between heavy panting. ¡°Get her shoes off, Vale.¡±


    Nebby kicked my wildflower friend off of her, rolled over, and jumped to her feet. Missing one boot that Shae had managed to get off, Nebby stumbled barefoot into something sharp, swore, and hopped one-legged toward the nearest tree.


    I leaped at the weakened prey, snatched my arms around it mid-jump, pulled it down with me, and twisted in the air so I could protect her by hitting the hard ground first. We smacked into the forest floor, a jagged rock biting painfully into my back. I rolled to flip our positions, with one arm protectively wrapped around Nebby¡¯s head to shield it. I straddled her. I pinned Nebby in place with my legs so that Shae had unimpeded access to the weakly flailing girl.


    ¡°No fair. No teaming up. No fair,¡± Nebby protested, uselessly and feebly pummeling me with her fists, while Shae''s tickle assault descended on her feet. ¡°No-o-o-o-o¡­ not the fee-ee-ee¡­ Shae! Shae! Shae! Naaaagh!¡±

 Side 1.1 — Journey’s End – Part 6 (end)

    ¡°Gods, you think anyone heard us?¡± Nebby gave up on sitting, flopped down onto the ground again, rolled onto her back, and spread her arms wide. ¡°Someone put my boots back on. I don¡¯t think I can manage.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t think so. No one is approaching at least.¡± I strained my senses, listening, tasting, verifying for the seventh or eighth time that no one was coming up.


    Nebby¡¯s shrieks of laughter while we had tickle-tortured her had been rather high-pitch. And loud. And could just as easily be interpreted as tormented shrieks of despair right before she was mauled by a vampire. And I knew that wasn¡¯t a paranoia-induced exaggeration on my part. When I had first pinned her down her terror had absolutely saturated the clearing, drowning out every other scent.


    I could have been tempted so easily. When I had rolled to protect her, her neck had been inches from my fangs. A single wrong twitch on her part and I might have sunk my teeth into her.  I had not. Pure luck. And my claws. I had not even thought of those, what they would have done to her. This was a bad game. A dangerous game. A¡ª


    Gaaaah! Why do I still think it¡¯s fun?


    Shae stopped trying to twist Nebby¡¯s foot into a shoe and threw me a pointed glare. ¡°Hold on. If you can tell that¡­ you knew I was back there?¡±


    ¡°Really? Vale knew?¡± Nebby asked. ¡°So not fair! You two planned this from the start. This is a conspiracy.¡±


    I lazily waved a hand in their direction. ¡°Shae wasn¡¯t exactly being stealthy.¡±


    She had been. Stealthy. At least for a kid. Sneaky enough that someone distracted, like Nebby, wouldn¡¯t have possibly noticed. Not that remaining hidden from an inattentive person was a particularly hard thing to do. Humans were astoundingly unaware of their surroundings for a prey species.


    Nebby poked her toes into Shae¡¯s stomach. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her. I didn¡¯t hear you, so you totally were. Vale¡¯s blind. Probably has those crazy good blind people''s ears to compensate.¡±


    I huffed. Blind people''s ears? Right. I should probably be annoyed that Nebby had shared one of my closely guarded secrets like that. It was a weakness. Something that could be exploited if people knew about it. But¡­ I liked the sound of blind people''s ears more than vampire ears. It almost made me wish that things could be that simple. That I could just be the poor unfortunate blind person in town, instead of the horrible monster.


    Without warning, Shae sat down in my lap, facing me. She brought her face close to mine and peered into my eyes. ¡°You never told me you were blind?¡±


    ¡°Only in direct sunlight. I can see fine now that it¡¯s dark.¡± I grunted, trying to shift into a position that was more comfortable with her considerable weight on top of me. A little further away from the arteries in her neck. I could not let her sitting on me become a habit. ¡°Shae, you¡¯re heavy¡­ bigger than me.¡± I winced as I forced the admission of the uncomfortable truth past my lips.


    You¡¯re only twelve, half my age and still I¡¯m shorter than you.


    And you¡¯re too close and looking a predator in the eyes and I haven¡¯t eaten in too long and this isn¡¯t safe.


    Her gaze dropped down to her hands in her lap. Disappointment.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You¡¯re not fat,¡± I blurted out. ¡°It¡¯s me. I¡¯m not good with people being close to me.¡±


    I¡¯m not safe!


    I shouldn¡¯t stay here.


    I should be running.


    And just like that, my thoughts snapped back to my predicament. I had let the moment get away from me. Foolishly, I had allowed a short moment of indulging Nebby to stretch into an entire evening. It was after dark. A whole chunk of moonlight that I could have used for running, gone. I could not do this. I could not do this friends thing. I couldn¡¯t stay.


    ¡°Daddy¡¯s alright with it. He¡¯ll stay away from the Inquisitors.¡±


    What?


    I steadied myself with one hand on the ground as I used the other to tug the shoddy remains of my braid loose. After the day I¡¯d had and then the tussle just now there was little of it left that still properly resembled a hairstyle. It needed a good rebraiding, and ¡ª I pulled a leaf out of the tangles of my hair ¡ª some twig and leaf removal as well. It was something to occupy myself with while I processed Shae¡¯s revelation.


    Not-quite-yeast Onar was fine with me staying?


    He was going to stay away from the Inquisitors instead of betraying me?


    ¡°Vale?¡± Shae prompted me when I didn¡¯t reply. ¡°This is good news right, Vale?¡±


    It was almost certainly not. This was some kind of plot. Onar totally would report me. He merely didn¡¯t want to tell his daughter. I was only losing time, making this worse. And now I was even making it harder on Shae.


    Nebby sat down to the right of me and leaned her shoulder against mine. ¡°You could have run, you know. As soon as you learned, back in Rivenston, you could have run. By the time the Inquisitors get here, we would have no idea where you¡¯d headed to. You care for us, more than you care for yourself, I think. Don¡¯t think we don¡¯t notice.¡± She put an arm around me, and pulled me close to her. ¡°Now let us look out for you too.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m a monster.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re our friend,¡± Nebby squeezed my arm. ¡°See if I care about anything else.¡±


    Shae prodded Nebby¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Who are you, and what have you done to the Nebster?¡± Then she turned around in my lap, nestled herself against me, and pulled my arm around her.


    I sighed. The worst part, I didn¡¯t even mind Shae settling herself so close to me. Didn¡¯t even feel that familiar urge of fresh blood too close quite as strongly as I usually did.


    Shae pinched my fingers, and before I could pull away, peeled off the glove on my right hand. She passed my freed hand on to Nebby who, with only the barest hesitation, twined her fingers around my claws. Then, Shae took off my left glove as well and took that hand in hers. ¡°Friends,¡± she proclaimed with a gentle squeeze.


    Nebby squeezed my hand as well. But there was a little shiver that went through her along with it. At first, I worried her reaction was discomfort at having the brutal parts of me so near and on display. But then she wrapped her second hand around mine and futilely began rubbing some warmth into my fingers.


    I squeezed Nebby¡¯s hand in turn, wondering how much of herself the older girl kept hidden from everyone else. How much of it I had been allowed to witness tonight? Then I gripped Shae¡¯s hand more firmly as well and stopped worrying at all.


    Friends.


    My friends.


    <hr>


    Early the next morning, long before dawn, I snuck out of the bunkhouse and disappeared between the trees. I had brought nothing. No crossbow. No blade. Just me and¡­ me. Once I was deep enough in the forest that no one would find me, I took off my gloves and shoes, dug a little cache for them in the hollow under a tree root, and marked the spot.


    I stood, nose in the air, inhaling the forest around me. As my instincts directed me towards prey, I let go of everything human that no longer mattered. No more pretending, no act or mimicry. I returned to being only myself.


    I hunted.


    Another blood-drained carcass landed on the pile with a fleshy thud that was loud and silent all at once now that everything alive had fled with my slaughter. My head swiveled in the direction of a scent trail. Many of the rabbits had escaped when I had descended on their warren, exactly as I had intended them to. A hunt was so much better when there was a chase. I lowered myself to the ground and took in the full bouquet of terrified runaway prey, ready to give chase once more.


    One had fled through some brambles. Another two had darted down a slope. And I¡­ I slammed a fist into the ground, gave up on the hunt, and collected my amassed prey with an angry snarl. This indulgence was senseless. It was futile and needless and foolish and not enough. Three caught in the initial strike, and two ran down afterward were not enough. I needed more. Simply the thought of halting the hunt was making me twitchy and there was still prey out there that I could catch. But I had fed. I was sated. If the five I had caught already weren''t enough, then nothing would be.


    When I got back shortly after dawn, Eryn and Nebby were in the bunkhouse kitchen, preparing food. Their presence was unmistakable to me now, even from outside the building. I had stopped clamping down on my senses and had given up on pretending I only had a normal human nose. Someone would probably figure out soon now that I always knew where everyone was. But they all knew so much about me already that I was beyond caring.


    I entered Eryn and Rafe¡¯s living quarters without passing through the common room first, so that I could ignore the people enjoying their breakfast. Some of them ¡ª mostly Nebby¡¯s parents ¡ª I did not want to face right now. Eryn seemed slightly bemused when I handed her five blood-drained rabbit carcasses. Nebby was in awe. I wasn¡¯t comfortable with either reaction, so I only stayed long enough to ascertain that Nebby hadn¡¯t suffered too much for last night.


    Outside again, a quick taste of the air confirmed that it was still early enough for the riverside logging spot to be mostly deserted. Onar was not there. Nebby¡¯s parents were still having breakfast. None of the other people that had been upset with me last night were there either. I cautiously navigated the debris of the logging activities and straddled the remains of a felled tree. While twisting and tugging at a half-broken branch, I observed Gery and Rafe setting up for the day¡¯s work.


    Eventually, Rafe paused to talk to me. ¡°You alright, Girl?¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± I begged him. ¡°I just want to sit for a moment.¡±


    Even his simple question was a too-raw reminder of last night. They had promised they would keep me safe. Nebby had said as much. Shae had confirmed it. So many of them, like Rafe and Gery, believed these words. Last night had confirmed that these promises were as empty, hollow, and unreliable as the humans themself.


    The animosity after I ¡ª a dangerous monster ¡ª returned with Nebby and Shae long after dark had proven that they still did not trust me. I should have fled last night. I had done so, but I should not have let Reya drag me back, not in the middle of the night when she had no way to stop me. I should have tried to run off a second time, as soon as Reya was no longer nearby enough to notice. I should have left before dawn this morning.


    I should not be smiling now, at how Reya had ranted at me ¡ª but mostly at all the scared and worried villagers that had stayed up late thinking two kids were in mortal danger ¡ª that I was the most dangerous thing in a hundred-mile radius and that Nebby and Shae had never been safer out in the woods than with me.


    A last twist. With a crack and a tear, the branch came loose from the trunk. I bent the stick until I could hold both ends between the thumb and fingers of a single hand. Until I could feel the strain of the wood fighting a hopeless, losing battle.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The morning breeze told me Nebby¡¯s parents had exited the bunkhouse. I tightened my grip. Wood cracked, snapped, fell to the ground. I fled the riverbank. A quick detour through the woods on my way back to the bunkhouse was an easy method of avoiding that annoying confrontation.


    Reya was with Nebby, in Eryn¡¯s living quarters. To avoid her I headed for the common room entrance. Unfortunately, I was still blind and took too long to feel out the door. That was the exact moment Reya left Nebby and Eryn. I hoped she would ignore me. I was about to enter through this door. She had just come out of the other door. We had no reason to talk to each other. None at all.


    Reya thought differently and called me over. ¡°Hey, Vale!¡±


    I stayed where I was, leaned my head and shoulder against the door in exasperation, but did not bother to look at her. ¡°Yes?¡± I croaked at the lesser annoyance.


    ¡°Eryn told me you went hunting.¡± She held up one of my rabbits. ¡°You know we¡¯ve got chickens, right?¡±


    ¡°Urrr¡­¡± I replied incoherently. Chickens were the worst prey. Tame chickens, handed to me, were even worse. There was no hunt. There was no chase. There was no point.


    ¡°You know, we could give them to you when we¡¯re about to eat them and need to drain the blood.¡±


    I shook my head. No. No. Really no. I did not need random people feeding me like I was some kind of stray dog. This was a tiny little place. They probably did not have enough chickens to feed me. This was probably another way for Reya to invite me for dinner. Some way to make me dependent, a way to get me to stay.


    And wait¡­ when did people figure out I drank blood anyway? I never told anyone. I did not need humans thinking about that. That made it gross and disgusting and visceral and ewww.


    ¡°Fine. You like hunting more than my chickens. Doesn¡¯t mean you need to make all kinds of faces because of it. Just let me know when you change your mind.¡± Reya waved me off and left.


    I huffed.


    Not making faces.


    And not going to change my mind on this.


    Shortly before lunch hour, Shae found me. Or more specifically, I was in my room, and she loitered in the common room until I came down. Soon after, Nebby snuck out of the kitchen to join us.


    ¡°You can teach us, right?¡± Shae asked.


    I groaned and let my head sink down to the table. There was a spill. Ale. I dragged a gloved finger through it, trailing liquid across the surface in lazy half-circles. I still could not figure out where Shae had gotten this mad idea that I would teach her magic.


    The door to Rafe and Eryn¡¯s living quarters opened. Eryn¡¯s voice wafted in through the gap. The chicken broth woman pushed Reya out of her kitchen and into the common room. ¡°No. You already got the rabbit. No more handouts. Now leave my kitchen.¡±


    ¡°Please teach us?¡± Shae and Nebby chorussed.


    ¡°Teach what?¡± Reya leaned over the table and studied my Ale-spill markings.


    ¡°Magic!¡± Nebby said. ¡°Vale is going to teach us magic.¡±


    ¡°Nebs!¡± Eryn called from the door. ¡°Stop slacking off and get back here.¡±


    ¡°You can actually teach people magic?¡± Reya asked.


    ¡°No. I can¡¯t,¡± I explained. ¡°Not like this. Shae just thinks I can. Learning magic isn¡¯t something you do in a day. It takes study. Practice. Time. I can¡¯t just give you magic or something.¡±


    ¡°I have time,¡± Shae said.


    I swallowed a growl. I very carefully ¡ª no claw marks ¡ª took hold of the table, shoved my chair back, hopped down from it, and hissed out, ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    I pulled open the door and stormed out, finally understanding why I was so restless. They did not get it, but I now did. I had no time. I had days, maybe. They were people and I was a monster and they would betray me because that¡¯s how things are.


    I¡¯m stuck here.


    Trapped.


    Caught, like prey waiting for the slaughter.


    And I should not feel so much and should be able to leave and to say goodbye and to¡­


    I rushed into the stables, located a brush, and set to work combing and brushing my horse. I took a long time, brushing and hugging and grooming Fern in intervals. When I was finally done, I pulled the tattered blanket from Fern¡¯s back, and retreated to my room. Ignoring Nebby that had claimed my bed as if it were a throne, I huddled down in the least sun-lit corner, wrapped the old blanket around my shoulders, and inhaled. It smelled like Fern now. All Fern and nothing else. But the memory was there, and that was enough.


    A dark shadow settled over me as Nebby got up from the bed and positioned herself in between the window and my corner. She waited patiently until I stopped seeking comfort in my blanket and acknowledged her presence.


    ¡°Mind if I join you?¡± Nebby asked. She lifted her arms, spread the bedding she carried like a cape wide, sat down beside me, and draped the thing over both our shoulders. ¡°Still worried, huh?¡± she asked me.


    I did not answer her.


    ¡°You know what always helps? Planning it out.¡± Nebby continued as if I had answered. ¡°Where do you think the Inquisitors will come from? The road?¡±


    I sighed. The easiest way to get rid of her would be to play along. ¡°No. The river. They need to check the riverbanks so there¡¯s no point in taking the road.¡±


    ¡°Alright. Need to keep Onar away from the river then. That should be doable. Anyone else we should keep from meeting the Inquisitors?¡±


    Your parents.


    I gave Nebby a tortured stare.


    Leave me alone.


    ¡°Come on. I¡¯m certain you can think of someone.¡±


    I groaned but did give the question some serious thought. ¡°The kids,¡± I answered after I had mulled it over. ¡°Meg¡¯s little gremlin won¡¯t stop talking about the demon lady with the claws.¡±


    Nebby snorted. ¡°Meg¡¯s little gremlin?¡±


    ¡°I mean Ari,¡± I corrected hastily.


    ¡°I know you mean Ari. If you think she¡¯s a gremlin on her own, wait until you see her together with Dune.¡± Nebby sighed a loud, exasperated sigh. ¡°Divines, those two together are an absolute menace.¡±


    I pursed my lips. It was better than laughing. Being amused did not fit my mood, so I refused to show a smile.


    ¡°Sooo¡­ okay. No kids. That¡¯s smart. Wouldn¡¯t have thought of that.¡± Nebby elbowed me. ¡°See. Planning it out is helping already. You think the Inquisitors will stay here long? Stay the night?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe. Depends on how late they get here, I guess. If they still have daylight left when they¡¯re done here, they¡¯ll probably continue on.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± Nebby tapped a finger on my knee, considering her next question.


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to cheer me up. Did Rafe set you up to this? Eryn?¡± I interrupted her with my own question.


    Nebby smirked. ¡°Maybe?¡±


    I frowned at her. Maybe Eryn had tasked her with this. It tasted like the kind of thing Eryn would do. Or maybe Nebby had merely suggested to Eryn that she help like this, knowing it would get her out from some far less interesting job.


    Nebby quickly shut down my digging into her motivations with another question. And another one. I wasn¡¯t going to admit it, but it did make me feel more at ease, the planning. Over the course of an afternoon, we worked out strategies for dealing with the Inquisitors, talking through as many eventualities as we could.


    I even considered the outline of some fallback options, in case the Inquisitors did find out about me. Ruses and measures that would keep me alive if the worst happened. I did not tell Nebby about those. It would only worry her, after that evening on the overlook. It still unnerved me, the things I had thought of back then, so I took pains to minimize casualties. The only thing unnecessary corpses would get me was an even bigger manhunt.


    I did not return to the riverbank. Not that day. Not the days after. Inquisitors were coming, and I felt vulnerable and exposed near the river, waiting for them. I barely even went out. Inquisitors were coming, and I didn¡¯t feel safe outside. Despite the planning Nebby and I had done that should ease my mind, I barely left the room. Inquisitors were coming, and I simply could not shake the feeling that I might die because I was too dumb to leave.


    On the third day of my self-imposed isolation, Lovelorn-excited-nervous-firebird Rafe knocked on my door.


    ¡°Come in,¡± I called out, resigned.


    I didn¡¯t bother opening the door for him. It was his bunkhouse, there were no locks on the doors, he could come in on his own, and I needed every last second of comfort my blanket nest could offer me. I knew why he was here. Everyone knew. The tension and anticipation enveloped the town like a fog rolling in from the river. Excited screams and shouts had drifted in through the window.


    Everyone in Birnstead was mad with anticipation and streaming towards the riverbank. The Inquisitors were here. And as this was the middle of nowhere important, no one had ever seen an Inquisitor up close before. And now there were three of them. Three of the brave and glorious and righteous elites. Legends. Fables. Protectors of mankind. Slayers of monsters.


    Rafe kneeled down next to me. ¡°They¡¯re here. You ready?¡±


    I shook my head.


    Rafe wrapped his arms around me, pulled me close, and held me tight for a moment. He dug me out of my blankets, put his arms under mine, and hefted me to my feet. ¡°It¡¯s going to be fine. You¡¯ve got this.¡± He sounded so certain of himself, so absolutely convinced that no one here would betray me.


    To pull this off, I would have to be equally convincing. I, Vale the vampire, exhaled and buried everything I was feeling under a cheerful facade. The tension left my body, replaced by energetic youthfulness. The worry and distress peeled from my face, a casual, almost playful smile taking its place. Child hunter Valentina patted his arm, and stepped out of his embrace. ¡°You are right. I¡¯ve got this.¡±


    Rafe shuddered, distress at my sudden transformation coloring his scent. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever get used to that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± I smiled up at him. ¡°I don¡¯t enjoy this either. Come on. Inquisitors don¡¯t like waiting, and my hair is a mess right now.¡±


    And I don¡¯t want to stand still and think about how I just gave you yet another good reason to betray me to them.


    We fetched Fern, and leaning on her a little to hide my unsteady middle-of-a-sunny-day gait, we headed over to the river. As we did, I went over my primary escape plan one last time. If I was betrayed, I would get on Fern and run. My horse was fresh, theirs were not. I only had to last until nightfall. The Inquisitors would not be able to reach any other settlement before dark. After sundown, they would merely be three Inquisitors that had died in mysterious circumstances. There were rough edges to this mad scheme, like what to do with the people of Birnstead after this, but it would serve as a starting point.


    Almost everyone in town had gathered. But so far, to my surprise, everything was going according to plan. Gery was ready and waiting. Onar had actually stayed away. The kids were being kept away as well so that they wouldn¡¯t accidentally spill my secrets.


    Not that any kids were needed for the babbling of stupid nonsense. There were so many idiotic comments I could overhear. This near legendary, once-in-a-lifetime event, was really making people stupid.


    ¡°That one¡¯s even got two swords. I wonder if they¡¯re enchanted?¡± someone whispered excitedly.


    Nothing different than my own. I just don¡¯t carry mine around as if it¡¯s some kind of exhibit on display. Please don¡¯t tell them I have a rune-crafted blade.


    ¡°Look at those horses. They¡¯re so majestic. You think they are destriers?¡±


    Of course not. Destriers are for showing off. They¡¯re on a job so they¡¯re probably just coursers, like Fern. I merely don¡¯t spend a fortune on making my horse look impressive.


    ¡°They¡¯re so big. There has to be a minimum height to become one of them. Has to be.¡±


    Yes, I¡¯m short. Can we stop mentioning it!


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect them to be this¡­ dirty?¡± Reya scoffed. ¡°Somehow they¡¯re not as impressive as I remember them being.¡±


    I snorted. Leave it to Reya to not be impressed with Inquisitors. ¡°A couple of days following a river will do that to you,¡± I called out to her. ¡°You¡¯ve seen Inquisitors before?¡±


    ¡°A lifetime ago. Parade in Rhicat when I was nothing but a dirty little street rat.¡± She shooed me on. ¡°Go. Go.¡±


    ¡°Going,¡± I agreed, and brazenly stepped forward to greet them. ¡°Hi, Inquisitor Lowe.¡± I gave him a little wave and my most disarming smile.


    ¡°Miss Valentina,¡± Inquisitor Lowe replied blandly, refusing to be swayed by my innocent display with so many people watching us.


    ¡°Vale, please,¡± I corrected, since I could already feel Reya mouthing ¡®Valentina?¡¯ behind my back. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind that I brought my horse, but it¡¯s on the other riverbank, and I¡¯d rather not get everything wet.¡±


    ¡°Call me Grant, then,¡± The Inquisitor suggested. ¡°Not at all. We¡¯ve certainly learned these last few days that it¡¯s not a river that is easily crossed. Almost makes me wish we had taken you up on your offer.¡±


    I chuckled. ¡°Well, at least it¡¯s summer now. You don¡¯t want to know how cold this river gets in winter.¡±


    Some of the villagers laughed at that. Finally, Inquisitor Lowe laughed with them. The carefully guarded tension was broken. Some banter later, I mounted my horse and pulled Gery up after me. Under the light of the sun, it took an absolutely wasteful amount of my precious Metzus to be able to do so in a coordinated fashion. But better blood-starved later than discovered now.


    With Gery¡¯s eyes helping me pretend I was not blind, we showed the Inquisitors where the ahuizotl nest had been. When Gery, The Inquisitors, and I returned from that, Rafe and Eryn performed the obligatory hospitality. They offered the Inquisitors my place in the bunkhouse for the night. Despite the longing for a good bed I could feel in them all, they refused and moved on immediately. They still had a lot of ground to cover, and their job would only grow more difficult once the first eggs hatched.


    And so it happened. Three Inquisitors passed by a town where everyone knew what I was, and no one spoke up.


    For now, I lived.


    I did not know how long the respite would last. This peace, it was fake. Eventually, someone would not keep quiet, but for just a little while, I did not care. I would live, just a little while longer.


    I was happy. Happy to be alive.

 The Cutting Room Floor

    <h2>Deleted scenes</h2>


    The side story existed as soon as I was a couple of chapters into volume one. Birnstead was plagued by ahuizotl, brought downstream by a winter flooding. While Vale herself spent little time considering the impact of that flooding on the wider world, I as an author did consider all the implications. I knew instantly that, after the end of the first Volume, the Inquisition would get involved with the ahuizotl. The side story was born.


    I wanted to do a lot with the side story. I wanted slice-of-life moments in Birnstead. I wanted to spend some time in Rivenston, exploring all the little minutiae of a vampire blending in in a city. When I began on the side story, I just started writing, not yet knowing which of all of these elements would take center stage. One of the Rivenston moments was Vale traumatizing some poor farmer with a rather outrageous monster hunter tall tale.


    The first draft was completed. It was obvious that the Inquisition plotline would be the focus. A lot of the meandering at the start of the side story had to go. Sentences and paragraphs were cut all over the place. The biggest cuts happened in the tall tale scene. Here it is, in full.


    <hr>


    I tried so hard not to draw attention to my overly youthful appearance. Even the tiny slit of a window, only letting in the slightest hint of sunlight and casting the room in an abundance of dark shadows, helped disguise my age. Yet he still treated me like a little girl. Never mind not toying with your food. I was going to enjoy this.


    I turned to face him and gave the man a far too gentle smile. ¡°Ever shoved your fist deep into one of a cipactli¡¯s many jaws and pulled on their tonsils to prevent it from biting your arm off?¡±


    The farmer froze, his entire body going rigid for a second as he worked to reconcile my friendly tone with the far more disturbing question I had asked. A hint of anxiety seeped into his odor. His posture shifted ever so subtly, from relaxed and invitingly open to a worried closedness. His own body told me he no longer wanted this conversation far sooner than his conscious brain even registered it.


    ¡°Ever had to slice open a still-living chaneque and fish out their intestines?¡± I followed up with a sad shake of my head.


    The trick to blending in was to lean ever so slightly towards the eccentric. I would never be able to pull off perfectly human. In a city, even a small one like Rivenston, there were no private moments. Always someone watching. In an absolutely perfect facade, the tiniest slip ¡ª a singular hiss, an accidentally escaped growl, a hint of a fang ¡ª might be enough for someone to suspect my true nature.


    Not to mention that trying too hard to blend in when everyone knew you were from out of town was bound to arouse suspicion. It was much better if I acted out, if people thought me weird, a little wild, a tad unusual, because then I was human. A little too notable, too strange to be fully trusted, but human.


    Wildly exaggerated tales were what people expected to hear from wandering hunters like me. So much so, that when I gave an obviously embellished tale like this, explaining why I had my gloves on, everyone just sort of bought it. Still, this was quickly turning into the most preposterously absurd explanation I had ever given for my gloves.


    ¡°Both of these required fine motor control and might have cost me a finger if I wasn¡¯t wearing gloves,¡± I continued blandly. ¡°If the price for keeping my fingers is practicing writing with gloves on, I¡¯ll gladly pay it.¡±


    Sometimes I wondered if I could pull off an ¡°I¡¯m a vampire trying to blend in by hiding my claws.¡± I was growing more and more certain that with some people I really could manage it. They would honestly believe I was pulling their leg, the mere notion that I was telling the truth too mad to even consider. Regardless, I was not going to risk being that honest.


    The farmer fiddled with the bedding, eyes drifting across the room, out of focus.


    Right, might have overdone it.


    I exhaled loudly through my nose, deposited all the writing implements on the ground ¡ª not even enough room for a desk or chair to write on in these cramped rooms ¡ª and scooted over to his side of the bed. Sitting down right behind the man, I gently slapped him on the back. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay. I¡¯m just messing with you a little.¡±


    <hr>


    The last chapter of the side story has a bit of a time skip. We go from the evening on the overlook, straight to the next day. Initially, there was no time skip there. The last chapter continued where the previous one left off. Vale Shae and Nebby returned from the overlook that same evening.


    While it was cute and wholesome, it dragged. Chapter 5 ended with an emotional release. Cutting this scene allowed chapter 6 to open with a nicely contrasting stressed-out Vale working through her issues.


    <hr>


    Staying on the overlook until long after dark had its disadvantages. The old-growth forest we passed through on the way back let no moonlight through. It was the kind of dark I reveled in, and that left the two girls I had to drag back with me utterly blind, defenseless, and terrified of every little unexpected sound.


    Shae, I carried on my back. Nebby, I took by the hand and guided with an occasional mention of a root she had to step over, or a branch she had to duck under. I neglected to mention a root or two, simply so that I could point out to the Flint-lock butterfly that she stumbled a lot.


    Nebby stuck her tongue out at me when she realized I was doing it on purpose, then started pestering me with questions about my sight once I told her I¡¯d seen that.


    Deflecting those questions was easy.


    Much worse was the angry crowd waiting for us in the bunkhouse. The parents that had stayed up, worried sick, because their kids hadn¡¯t returned home by sundown. And most of the other adults, because this was still the kind of place where everything was everyone¡¯s business.


    At least there was no armed mob waiting for me this time. Small improvements. Still, the extent of the worry and anger proved that there was no real trust in me. I was so tired of their distrust by then, that I simply spat out something ugly and vindictive, and stormed out to get my horse. Damn the concept of friends and everything else. I was not risking my life for this.


    Reya hauled me off my feet and dragged me back inside before I¡¯d even managed to reach the stables. ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot,¡± she berated me as she hauled me inside, past the crowd, and up the stairs. ¡°You¡¯re almost certainly the most dangerous thing in a hundred-mile radius. Those two have never been safer than with you.¡±


    It was obvious by the timing of that statement, that it was intended for everyone else just as much as it was for me.


    <hr>


    By far the biggest continuous cut of content in the side story was a scene that takes place after the conclusion of the side story. I''m still sad even now that I had to delete it. But the side story had a theme, a character arc, and a core conflict, and all of those were resolved.


    I might bring it back someday, as part of a whole new, angst-free, and entirely wholesome slice-of-life side story. For now though, it is just this one orphan cooking scene.


    <hr>


    ¡°Leave the yawning at home and get a move on Nebs,¡± Eryn scolded the continuously yawning girl who was supposed to be teaching me the basics of this cooking thing. The affectionate glint in Eryn¡¯s eyes and the nickname she gave the girl betrayed that Eryn wasn¡¯t as cross with Nebby as her tone of voice indicated.


    Nebby waved off the angry comment with another yawn and tried to glare at me before yet another yawn could creep up on her sleep-deprived face. ¡°Hoooow are you soooo awake this early in the morning?¡±


    ¡°Dunno,¡± I deflected. ¡°Guess sleeping out in the wilds gets you used to waking up at a moment''s notice.¡± Stating that as a guess meant I technically wasn¡¯t lying. It was for their own good that I was masking this from them. Some truths were simply too uncomfortable.


    ¡°Chop-chop, less yapping, more working,¡± Eryn interrupted our banter. ¡°Less than an hour till they expect us to pick up the kids, and the men will want their lunch at noon regardless.¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Nebby exclaimed, tossing away her towel in obvious, acted affront.


    ¡°Yes, Nebs.¡± Eryn sighed. ¡°The woman too.¡± She bent down to pick up the towel the girl had carelessly tossed away and shook it out.


    ¡°Yeah, and you wouldn¡¯t forget about them if I was out there helping them instead of in here doing this,¡± Nebby launched into a pretend-tirade, broke it off to throw me a quick wink, ¡°no offense to you,¡± then continued right where she left off. ¡°But noooo, Rafe gets a free pass while me, I get to¨C¡±


    Nebby yelped, jumping to the side when Eryn tried to swipe at her with the towel. ¡°You can get that free pass as soon as you run this town instead of him.¡±


    ¡°No thanks!¡± Nebby squeaked, shrinking back. Then she turned to me and lowered her voice to a conspirational whisper. ¡°I mean, have you seen Rafe¡¯s face? You¡¯d think he runs a town of 400 instead of 40.¡±


    I chuckled, while behind Nebby¡¯s back, Eryn threw up her hands in mock disgust. I got the distinct impression that this energetic exchange was how these two women interacted every morning.


    ¡°Seriously, pay attention to the gray in Rafe¡¯s beard. It spreads faster than an ink stain,¡± Nebby continued unabashedly.


    Riiiight.


    ¡­


    Oh no, please don¡¯t make me focus on Rafe¡¯s beard next time I see him.


    I clutch my head in my hands, already regretting that I had agreed to this. This was going to be such a long and arduous day.


    ¡°Hands out of your hair when you¡¯re working with food,¡± Eryn berated me. ¡°Gloves off as well. It¡¯s unhygienic. And get back to work the both of you.¡± There was a finality to those words, a clear indication to both of us that our playtime was over and that we should get on with it.


    I raked my hands through my hair and looked at the worktop. To the left of me, Eryn¡¯s two fish, which looked untouched just moments ago had already been skinned and cleaned. I had no clue as to when she managed to do that. To the right of me, Nebby was making short work of a mountain of vegetables, the girl having effortlessly switched from messing about to getting work done.


    Meanwhile, I was in charge of a single onion. It sat there, ready to be peeled and chopped up. Nebby had explained how I should go about it. Her tutoring had involved a lot of yawning, and very little peeling and chopping. I picked up the union, turned it around, and placed it back down in a new position. I tested the heft of the knife they handed me. I performed another minute repositioning of the onion.


    I am stalling.


    Shae is so much better at explaining this.


    Nebby¡¯s hip bumped my own. I glanced over to find her awkwardly hunched over so as not to tower above me. She grinned at me, winked, and wiggled herself back up to a normal standing position. Then she waggled her eyebrows and made a cut in her greens.


    What?


    I arced an eyebrow in response. Both of Nebby¡¯s eyebrows rose up in concert, then they twitched in the direction of the greens in her hand. A mad grin curled her lips as she twisted the vegetable-thing in the opposite direction, and then she made another cut. Finally, she tilted both her head and her eyebrows towards my onion.


    She trying to help me out by demonstrating what I need to do?


    Soooo.... how am I supposed to translate that?


    Those yellow-green stick things she¡¯s working on are really nothing like this onion.


    ¡°Not. Helpful. Nebs,¡± I enunciated.


    ¡°Eeeeh! She called me Nebs!¡± the girl squealed, pulled me closer by my shoulders, and squeezed my face against her chest. ¡°You hear that Eri, we¡¯re totally best friends!¡±


    ¡°Nebby!¡± Eryn shouted.


    ¡°Yep, that¡¯s me!¡± the girl smothering me exclaimed, not loosening her hold on me for even a second. She was so lucky I did not need to breathe. She was even luckier that I had recently fed, because being pressed this near to her made me want to drown in the taste of flint-lock butterflies.


    ¡°Let her go.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I could feel Nebby nodding along with her answer before she eventually released me.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I grimaced, tilted my head at Eryn, and hoped it was enough to hide the need of hunger that had crept up on me.


    ¡°Thank me with that onion,¡± the old woman stated, pointing towards the still unpeeled vegetable in front of me.


    Onions are vegetables, right?


    Eryn tapped my fingers. ¡°And I think I told you to take those gloves off.¡±


    I glared at her. ¡°Not taking them off.¡± I thought I had made it abundantly clear that I would not be taking off my gloves. The risks were too great. Yet somehow, no matter how hard I protested, they just kept on pestering me about it.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°You agreed to help out,¡± Eryn persisted. ¡°That was the condition for you staying. That involves taking off those gloves. I will not have you smearing dirt and grime and gods-knows-what-else in everyone¡¯s food. This might just be a bunkhouse, but we still have standards.¡±


    I continued glaring.


    Nebby wrapped her arms around my shoulder and leaned her chin against my forehead. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay,¡± she said. ¡°We know you¡¯re worried, but it¡¯s okay. No one is going to blame you, or point fingers at you, or scream in terror. And absolutely no one you can¡¯t trust is suddenly going to walk in here.¡± A vibrating chuckle began deep in her chest and worked its way out. ¡°Besides, everyone already knows, you table menace.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s beside the point,¡± I hissed, pushing Nebby away from me. Did she want me to sample her? Is that why she kept presenting herself?


    Behind me the door opened, and Reya ambled in. ¡°What point?¡± she asked, before coming my way and tapping me on the nose. ¡°And no hissing. Vulnerable instead of terrifying.¡±


    ¡°Please get her to take off her gloves,¡± Eryn begged the village healer.


    ¡°What¡¯s in it for me?¡± Reya studied the food we were preparing.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Eryn insisted. ¡°You are not getting any food from me, no matter how little you like your wife¡¯s breakfast. Vale being here does not change that.¡±


    <hr>


    And that''s it for that scene. Sort of a cut-off ending there, I know. That''s the nature of deleted scenes. Sometimes you''re writing them, and then mid-way through you realize it''s not working out, and then you stop.


    Anyway, these are the three major cut scenes from the side story. Now for three other scenes. Scenes that were vital to the shaping of the story into what it is today, but that predate Vale as a character.


    <h2>The making off</h2>


    Let''s start at the very beginning. Before the side story. Way before volume one. Vale came from my disappointment with Isekai web novels. I wanted to write an Isekai that challenged all the tropes, themes, and common narratives. I wanted to write something that was as much a making fun of the tropes, as it was a deconstruction of the genre as a whole.


    The protagonist was not Vale. The protagonist was a man, a middle-aged, battle-hardened Inquisitor (then called a subjugator). Like all good Isekai, the story started with his death.


    <hr>


    ¡°Well, that is disappointing,¡± I Thought as I looked down at the sword sticking out of my chest.  I grasped feebly at the blade that was painting my torso a lovely shade of crimson. This only managed to cut off several of my fingers.


    No blade is supposed to be this sharp¡­


    That was about my last coherent thought. I still tried to take a step and get away from my assailant. Instead, my legs gave out. The ground rushed towards me. That very large and spiky rock in front of me growing larger and larger and larger...


    If I hit that with my head then I¡¯m de¨C


    Then there was nothing. Not just blackness but real void. Absence. Of everything. I would like to say this gave me time to think. But that would imply that there was time, and thinking. There was only an absence.


    Absence.


    Absence.


    <Would you like to try again?>


    A strangely disembodied voice tore the absence apart. It might have only been a voice, but suddenly there was something, instead of nothing. It was disorienting. It was distracting. It was... making me think these... thought. Making me remember how I had died. Making me think about how I had died.


    A lot of things about my death made very little sense. How did that blade get there? Who was my attacker? Why did they want me dead? And then I hadn¡¯t even gotten to the extremely important facts. Minor details like no one in this world being good enough to sneak up on me like that.


    I knew I was spending too much time mulling these things over when the disembodied voice repeated the question, this time with a distinct undertone of impatience.


    <Would you like to try again?>


    ¡°Who killed me? What is this place? Am I dead?¡± I replied with my own questions. Their order wasn¡¯t exactly coherent.


    Maybe I wasn¡¯t exactly coherent right now?


    <Would you like to try again?>


    Okay, so this creepy voice thing is really getting impatient now. Maybe I should answer it. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves... and failed. At the breathing part. I... had no body? Then how was I thinking? Nope. Stop. Answer first, panic later.


    But what does it mean by ''try again''?


    <Exactly what I said.>


    Okay... that was an answer to something I had wondered, wasn¡¯t it? But I hadn¡¯t actually asked it any¨C


    <Would you like another chance at saving the world?>


    ¡°Um...¡± I tried. No further continuation of that sentence came. You could hardly call it a start even. This whole situation was leaving me a bit flustered really. I was used to thinking on my feet but the pace of this was really quite ridiculous. Once again I tried to sort out my thoughts. First of all, I was supposed to be dead. This wasn¡¯t anywhere near what I had imagined dying to be like.


    Was reincarnation a thing then? Was I going to be reborn as a squirrel?


    <I can not fit your mind in that of a squirrel.>


    ¡°A... I... Um...  I...¡± I still wasn¡¯t keeping up with everything this divine being was¨C


    <Not divine!>


    Nope. Not even going to react to that. Moving on. Another chance at saving the world, that was some twisted wording right there. Sure, I¡¯m a famous subjugator, and I was on my way to deal with some nasty demon shit. But seriously, saving the world? I¡¯m not that kind of pretentious.


    <Ah... you did not know. Oops. Pretend I didn¡¯t mention this.>


    ¡°Eh?! Wait? What! No-no-no!¡± I protested loudly. Or at least as loud as I could without a mouth to speak with. ¡°You can not just tell me the world is going to shit and then pretend nothing happened. Spill the beans!¡±


    <No.>


    ¡°Seriously?¡± This thing had some g¨C


    <You could find out for yourself if you tried again.>


    ¡°This is a trap, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    <No trap. However, to succeed where you have failed will require a unique perspective.>


    ¡°Unique perspective? That doesn¡¯t sound good. What the heck does that mean?¡±


    <No more questions. Yes or no?>


    ¡°Sorry, you¡¯re not getting me with this shit. The answer is no. Make me be dead again.¡± I put my foot down. Metaphorical foot. I still had no body.


    No answer came.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    Utter silence. It didn¡¯t matter how often I called out. It was just me and the absence again. One thing was different however. I was conscious. The absence wasn¡¯t as fun as before now that I was conscious. I was alone with my thoughts. I tried going to sleep, counting sheep, tried pretending everything was normal. None of it worked because the absence was so overpowering.


    If this kept up I would go insane. I started telling myself stories. Tales I¡¯d heard bards tell. Tales I made up on the spot. Every single thing I remembered from my life. I had no idea how much time passed. There was still an absence of that concept. Only my thinking seemed to exist. Somewhere along the way of my talking about random things, I realized I had begun to speak utter gibberish.


    I had no recollection of when I had started doing that. Was I already going insane? I pretended I wasn¡¯t talking gibberish and carried on. If I was losing my sanity then all I needed to do was carry on until there wasn¡¯t any of it left. Then I¡¯d also lose my sense of self and would no longer worry about this absence.


    I broke long before that moment came.


    ¡°Yes!¡± I shouted into the void, ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll do it! Send me back! I¡¯ll try again!¡±


    The voice gloated sensually in my ears. Then I received a violent push and was sent sailing into the void.


    ¡°Yahahaha! Woohooo!¡± I cackeled maniacally. After those eons of absence the simple sensation of movement, of having mass and direction, was utterly divine. Then it became even better: there was sight. A tiny dot appeared in front of me. It grew larger until it was a gaping maw. It swallowed me.


    I was spat out onto rough and uneven ground. My body scraped and rolled along the rocky floor for several meters before banging into a wall. Amazing! So many sensations. Ground, rocks, dirt! Walls! Having a battered and bruised body! Glorious, glorious pain!


    Lights and sounds and smells. Rough hands grabbing me. Something fastened around my neck. Searing pain in my chest. Debilitating weakness. Lightheadedness. Losing consciousness...


    No! Not that! Not again! Can¡¯t lose it again. Not so soon after¨C


    <hr>


    Iterations upon iterations happened. Eventually, the entire Isekai concept was dropped. In its place, the continent of Ostea was taking shape. The war with the vampires raging across the continent was there. And a new protagonist had taken the place of my Inquisitor, a teenage vampire girl caught up in the middle of it all.


    <hr>


    ¡°You¡¯re a vampire?¡± the new recruit asked me after he had spent the past several minutes ogling me.


    I gave the boy a cold, hard stare. I had gotten incredibly good at those. Advantages of being dead.


    With a quiet squeak and a hint of extra fear in the air, the child leaned as far back in his chair as he physically could.


    Rolling my eyes at his pathetic prey reaction I turned to the Butcher. ¡°You want me to kill him now?¡± I gestured towards the frightened little snack with a quick tilt of my head. ¡°Or are we going to wait until he gets someone more important killed?¡±


    ¡°Attitude!¡± the mountainous man berated me in his usual monotone drawl.


    ¡°I¡¯m working¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop it,¡± he sneered. ¡°You¡¯re not. Haven¡¯t been for the past two years.¡±


    Have. You just have no idea how hard it is to keep myself from ripping out your wormy little entrails and¡ª


    Luckily I had acquired sufficient self-control by now to not let my instincts run my mouth in unguarded moments. No matter how much it grated to work with the stupid selfish prey at times, cooperation was the only viable way forward. Maintaining the patience to deal with the food¡¯s pathetic sensibilities was still a work in progress though.


    ¡°She¡¯s joking right?¡± The youngling looked at me like a deer that spotted the pack of wolves sneaking up on it.


    ¡°No,¡± the butcher and I stated simultaneously.


    ¡°But¡­ but¡­ but¡­ she¡¯s here to protect us, right?¡±


    I broke out in a grin. The new recruits the Butcher brought me were always so cute.


    ¡°She¡¯s here to protect her feeding grounds,¡± the Butcher explained. ¡°That merely happens to conveniently align with keeping us alive. For our part, we try to collaborate¡ª¡±


    I coughed politely. He was a good man, my Butcher, but keeping him from employing euphemisms when it was the time for bitter truth was a chore and a half.


    The butcher grunted in response and nodded. ¡°We try to not get in her way.¡±


    <hr>


    After this, I invented the Academy. Fleshed out some of the magic system. Conceived the continent of Myrna, where the Academy was located. I went nuts on wordbuilding, putting my unnamed protagonist and the mysterious Butcher into dozens of different places and scenarios.


    Then I ditched all of the worldbuilding and moved things to the modern day, and turned the entire narrative into a contemporary urban fantasy.


    <hr>


    Wait for the signal, they had told me.


    Why did we agree to this? Those worms out there are having all the fun.


    Because I had been stupid. I had agreed without thinking things through. The new recruit had been ogling me so I had said yes just to be rid of him. Now I was stuck here in my dorm room while the rest of the order had to clean up the mess.


    It¡¯s no fair. Stuck in here while the pretty infernoes and the screams of the dying are all happening outside.


    Me agreeing far too quickly wasn¡¯t the full reason of course. I could have disagreed all I wanted. They simply didn¡¯t trust me. Hadn¡¯t trusted my once in the past 300 years. Never would trust me.


    What did we ever do to deserve this much distrust? It¡¯s not like we go on wanton slaughter sprees.


    Entrails?


    ¡­ a girls gotta eat, okay!


    And so I desperately clutched my phone, waiting for a call, while outside my window the apocalypse was passing me by. Half the campus burned down before that call finally came, so when it did I answered long before the first ring.


    ¡°Butcher, am I good to go?¡±


    ¡°Mel!¡± A panicked voice shouted from the other end of the line.


    Huh? That¡¯s not Butcher? Whatever, I don¡¯t have time for this. ¡°I don¡¯t care who you are, don¡¯t call me back. I¡¯m expect¨C¡±


    ¡°DON¡¯T HANG UP!!¡± The girl screeched into the phone.


    The worm dares to command us!


    ¡°Mel, it¡¯s Kira! If you¡¯re home, open your door!¡±


    Kira? As in the girl from the channeling assignment? But that was ages ago. Before the fiery inferno of apocalyptic doom kind of ages go. Yesterday kind of ages ago.


    ¡°Huh?¡± I enunciated into my phone, my eloquence a true testament to how unexpected this call was.


    ¡°Open your fucking door!¡±


    Fuck it. I stepped away from the window, tossed the phone on my desk, grabbed my dagger, and walked out the door. If this were a movie then someone would have probably made a badass montage out of it. Sadly this was no movie. And no amount of clever camera tricks could ever hide that my dorm room was all of 10 feet from window to door.


    The meat is coming to us. We must not let it wait.


    Yes, my rushing to open the door was out of worry, not hunger.


    I hoped.


    We do not worry about these pathetic meat bags. They are insects barely worthy of my attention.


    There was no more time to debate my dubious motivations. The door of the stairwell slammed open and two girls came pinballing out of it. The first was a short little thing I did not recognize. She looked around bewildered, unsure of where to go. Kira dashed out right behind her, and shouted ¡°Second door on the left!¡±.


    They were both past me and in my room in an instant. I had already stopped paying them any attention because something else was coming.


    Coming to steal our prey!


    ¡°Mel?¡±


    ¡°Close the door, Kira.¡± I unsheathed my dagger, ignoring the wave of burning pain that ate at my fingers.


    ¡°Mel? Get in here?¡±


    ¡°Now!¡± I rushed forward as the stairwell exploded in a cloud of concrete and shadow.


    <hr>


    I abandoned the contemporary setting, returned to my old one of Ostea and Thysa, and basically tossed every single idea I''d had so far into a giant blender. If all of the ideas didn''t work out individually, then certainly things would be better all smushed together.


    A couple of iterations after that, I ended up with little more than a depressed, near-suicidal vampire girl on a horse, riding back toward a small little village. I simply wrote. One paragraph turned into two. Out of nowhere, an outline bloomed in my head. Less than a week later, I had the full, beat-by-beat outline written down, and 10k words of my first draft.


    Here''s the first page and a half of that first draft. This roughly matches up with scenes from chapter 1.1. The rest, as they say, is history.


    <hr>


    Six months of running away from myself, and all it had amounted to was me ending up back at the one place where I had accidentally let my guard down. My return wasn¡¯t even intentional. I had just taken a couple of odd turns.


    Yes, odd turns.


    Completely unintentional.


    I let out an exasperated sigh. I hadn¡¯t magically gotten any better at fooling myself. I¡¯d probably never get better at it. My entire life had been a lie after all. Since before I was born, really. You could almost say I lied as easily as I breathed.


    Almost.


    I didn¡¯t breathe. Every breath you saw me take was a lie. That¡¯s how good I was a lying to other people. I hated it. It¡¯s why I¡¯d been on the road for ... nearly a year now I think. So much easier to hide from your own lies if you stay on the move.


    It was fun, waking up in that hayloft. Terrifying, but fun.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s okay. I thought you were dead.¡±


    That was the first thing she had said to me. No running away in terror, no pitchforks and torches, and burning at the stake. Just childlike innocence and honesty.


    I had been exhausted and had gone to sleep without all my usual precautions. When Omar¡¯s daughter had found me, she hadn¡¯t been afraid of the monster, she¡¯d been worried the monster might be dead.


    We¡¯d spoken for a bit. Just a little, maybe half an hour at most. Only afterward did I realize how liberating it had been. A single moment of respite, of not hiding behind a web of lies.


    That was the reason I¡¯d come back here. Right beyond that bend, there¡¯d be a little farm.  A farm that maybe hadn¡¯t yet gotten a new cat. A farm that had the first person I¡¯d been comfortable enough around to not pretend.

 2.01 — Two Damp Pops

    Not a sound. Not yet at least. Nothing I could describe in any way that makes sense.


    It made me halt mid-cut.


    I was beset once more by the haunting fear that had been with me for more than a month and a half now. My hand, the knife I held, hovered over the carrots I had been dicing. Keeping perfectly still, I listened.


    Across from me, the chak-chak-chak of Eryn¡¯s own knife faltered. The rich nuance of her chicken-broth flavor colored with compassion. The motherly old woman put her arms on the table between us and leaned forward, deliberately lowering herself to my height so that she would not have to look down at me. She tilted her head in an attempt to look me in the eye. Her shoulder-length dark-blonde hair, which she wore loose indoors, fell to one side. Her eyebrows rose, ever so slightly uneven, cutting deep wrinkles in the aged skin of her forehead.


    Someone who did not know Eryn was likely to mistake this for mockery of my paranoia, but I had grown deeply familiar with her warm presence. Her aroma swirled with genuine worry, proving that even after so many false scares, she still treated my fears seriously.


    I stared into the distance and waved a hand through the air between us to silence the reassurance that I knew would follow. Something really wasn¡¯t right this time. I wet my lips and fully opened myself to my senses in a manner I rarely did. Something was different, out of place in a way that couldn¡¯t be condensed into mere sounds or scents. That only made me want to quantify what had startled me all the more.


    Maybe the old woman was right to worry about me, with how often I did this. I so hoped she was right this time as well. Then I would shrug, and continue our work on this evening''s dinner. She would sigh quietly, and whisper, ¡°Jumping at shadows again, Dear.¡±


    Yet as the days stretched on, dragging out these moments of impossible contentment far beyond anything I deserved, so grew my trepidation. The Inquisition had come by here nearly two months ago, oblivious to my true nature. By some miracle, the entire town had kept my secret.


    I had been living here since then, in open hiding. A forbidden nightmare. A monster that should be hunted to extinction. First I¡¯d been relieved, but that relief had been short-lived. As time passed, I knew with ever-growing certainty, a secret held so openly could not be kept forever. The Inquisition would learn about me eventually. They would return. Kill me. It would happen quickly, quietly. When they came, it would be unannounced and with overwhelming force. It was the only way they could best me, the only way that was safe for them.


    Every moment could be my last. Every evening spent among friends, every meal shared, every smile stolen, every touch, each hug and cuddle could be the final one. Every word I spoke could be the thing people remembered me by.


    I feared it really were my last moments now. I tilted my head, fanned my nostrils. I licked my lips and tasted the air once more. There were new, elusive sounds outside I could not identify. They were ever so subtle, almost imperceptible, shrouded. Whoever made those sounds snuck closer from downwind, with predatory finesse and purpose.


    There were barely more than forty people here in Birnstead. I had interacted with all of them, during the day, when I was close to blind. I knew everyone by the way they walked, how they held themselves, and the broad gestures they made. I could identify people simply by the quality of their breathing. With most inhabitants, I was more familiar with their taste than their very name.


    The six humans that had come stalking noiselessly out of the forest, deliberately muting their scents by their direction of approach, I did not know them at all.


    And then they broke into a run.


    My eyes, up to now unfocused, found Eryn¡¯s, and I held her gaze.


    Her heart thundered in that typical uneven, frail way of hers. Guilt flowed into her chicken-broth taste, the first sign of fright. The happy, mocking twist to her lips twitched into a frown. She blinked several times in rapid succession.


    Even now, I still would not have missed any of it.


    Still don¡¯t regret it.


    Not for one second.


    These two months have been the happiest of my life.


    ¡°I need you to leave, Eryn.¡± My words were little more than a hush, yet there was a deep and cold finality in my voice. With slow and deliberate motions I put my knife to the side, and then prized Eryn¡¯s own knife from between her trembling fingers.


    Once I had put that aside as well, I spread my hands out on the table between us. I wore no gloves. Not anymore. Not in here, while cooking. Often not even out in the town. My claws, which I had spent decades hiding from people, were on full display. All of me was on full display, because I trusted these people, and they trusted me in turn. They had trusted a vampire, and now I hoped they would not pay too grievous a price for it.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Vale?¡± Eryn¡¯s usually stern voice cracked apart until all that was left was a frail whisper. Worry frayed her scent. Her fingers twitched, one hand reaching out to me.


    ¡°Now, Eryn. They¡¯re here,¡± I pleaded, pulling my hands back, out of her reach. I could not afford her sentimentality now. There was no more time for that. Yet even my lips quivered as I exhaled loudly. I narrowed my eyes, struggling ¡ª failing ¡ª to keep my emotions at bay. ¡°We talked about this. Cooperate with them. Do not interfere. Let them kill me. Now go!¡±


    Outside, the six unknown tastes had moved with ruthless efficiency. As soon as they had reached the little lean-to at the back of the bunkhouse that served as stables and outdoor storage, they had split up. One group of two was circling the building from the west, and another group of two from the east. The last two had taken up position halfway to the tree line, probably keeping watch on the back windows, making certain I did not escape through those.


    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± Eryn reached for me again.


    ¡°No!¡± I shook her off. Brisk. Rough. Pointed at the door leading from the kitchen towards the common room while stubbornly looking down at my feet. She had to leave. Right now.


    Already I was counting the seconds, estimating the pace of the circling groups, extrapolating how long it would take them to meet up at the front. There was only the slightest falter in the steps of the assailants. It was not out of fear, or caution. It was too measured for that, the pauses at nice, equidistant intervals. I knew all too well what that meant. They were placing runestones, putting up a containment field.


    A shiver ran down my neck and shoulders and then I could no longer stop shaking. Just living, fully, happily, and accepting the end when it came should have been easy. And I had lived. Free from constant, endless vigil, it had been the happiest time of my life. And I had no clever plan for this that didn¡¯t endanger the townspeople I cared so much about. And¡­


    I did not want to die.


    A dull clack signaled the closing of the door behind Eryn. It was the last I knew of the woman who had spent so many evenings teaching me to cook. This was her home. She and her husband owned this bunkhouse and ran this entire town. It wasn¡¯t right that I ordered her around like this. She did not deserve me treating her this rough, not after all she had done for me. Yet it was the only way. She was too old and frail and sentimental. She would take too long otherwise, and we had no time for that. If she did not distance herself from me, the Inquisitors would not differentiate between us.


    It was so stupid. Instead of a proper goodbye, all I¡¯d had time for was a sternly worded ¡®no¡¯, and a finger pointing at a door. Earlier today, when Aunt Reya had come by to mooch breakfast, I had simply given her a slap on the wrist and a glare. The town healer did not like her girlfriend¡¯s idea of morning fare, so she always tried to sneak in and snatch a bite or two from the food intended for the people staying in the bunkhouse. And I couldn¡¯t even recall what my last words had been to Meg, Gery, Shae, Nebby, and all the other people in this little village who had wanted me to see their quiet town in the middle of nowhere as a second home. I had probably said or done something equally pointless and banal.


    No uplifting final words.


    No comforting goodbye.


    Nothing to remember me by.


    Pathetic.


    These people deserved more, and I could not give it to them. If only I had run away two months ago, then I could have spared them this. Instead, I¡¯d stayed, selfishly. Against all expectations, the people of Birnstead had come to see me not as a monster, not as a child, but as a person. For two whole months, they had made me feel human, even while they allowed me to be myself.


    The acceptance of me was not entirely universal. There were still some people here who felt less than comfortable with my presence. Had one of them ratted me out to the Inquisition? I hoped not, and even if someone had, I found that in these last moments, I did not care. I really hoped they¡¯d all be alright, after what they had done for me. Harboring me. A vampire. The scourge that had razed the continent of Ostea, plunged it into a vicious and desperate war that was still going on, even now, decades later.


    Fourteen. I stopped counting when a dim shout came from outside, one of the circling Inquisitors revealing their presence now that they were convinced I could no longer escape. They had only needed fourteen seconds to put down and prime their containment field. They were good. Really good. That was strangely comforting. At least I would not be killed at the hands of some incompetent fool.


    I took a deep breath, taking in the cozy feel and warm taste of the bunkhouse kitchen ¡ª the lingering hints of Chicken-broth Eryn and Lovelorn-firebird Rafe that permeated the air and the wood ¡ª one last time, then leaned back against the wall and let my body sag down to the ground. If there was ever any chance of fleeing, I¡¯d wasted the opportunity now.


    I¡¯m sorry, Dad.


    So sorry¡­ I never gave you a proper¡ª


    The containment field, charged with devastatingly powerful Tonaltus, slammed into me. The wave of energy severed and seared away the strands of Metzus animating my body. Agony lanced through every fiber of my being.


    I could no longer grit my teeth because I lacked control.


    I could not even scream.


    Putrid stink filled the room as my flesh boiled, my bones melted, and my decomposing body stained the floor. Then two damp pops came from my eyes and I was spared the remainder of the gruesome sight. The searing pain subsided soon after, as there was no longer enough left of me to feel with.

 2.02 — Three Beating Hearts

    Pain. Endless pain. Torment, and three delicious prey somewhere above me, the steadfast thrum of their hearts penetrating the constant agony. They were still there, even after all this time. Meals, waiting for me to feast on them. I grasped for their presence with a desperate splinter of fragmented consciousness. I embraced the soothing dual-note lullaby of their weak little hearts, letting it sing me to torpor with its promises of contented satiation, of feast and famine, of an end to this endless torment of ravaged flesh.


    Soon. Free. Soon.


    Three heartbeats became six. Then three again.


    Two delectable meals joined the constant three, stirring me to wakefulness once more. They thought themselves so clever, posturing barely out of reach, tempting me with the now familiar and smug aromas of tender Spring-chicken and self-loathing Creeping-brown-vines. Oh, that enticing thrum in their veins. Their voices droned and droned, buzzing with poisoned questions, as if I would still answer after that. Ah, those two appetizingly naive snacks, so firm in their false belief of safety. So intoxicating, their misplaced trust in their own traps. Already, they had crafted their own demise. I focussed on their taste alone, and sank away into nothingness once more.


    Soon, Dad. Soon.


    Three beating hearts. Six. Three again.


    A sudden twitch of a muscle roused me. The ugly waft of prison slop soured the air. A hint of panic rose up from the warm fleshy snack preserved in my embrace. The prey-child croaked beneath me. It was only the first half-note of a pleading wail before he remembered me and restrained his vocalization in primal fear. My snack¡¯s aborted cry echoed between the deep, damp walls of my prison-hole.


    I stirred.


    Under me, my little snack trembled. The sickly, horror-stricken heart of the boy I cradled sang so much louder in my ears than those of the prey far above. All it would take was a single bite, a tantalizing nibble and I would be strong again. Only the tingling, burning reminder of the Tonaltus crawling along my overboiled flesh kept me from chomping down. As long as the containment field over my cell was in place, any feeding was pointless. Tearing down that field would require more time. Preparation.


    Soon. Eventually.


    The bowl of food, being lowered into the deep through an improvised system, was hardly worth my notice. The daily ritual of feeding my snack was merely another example of human weakness, another confirmation that they would not hold me forever.


    Yet the fragile fingers of my snack creeping towards the bowl of offered food, that was worth paying attention to. One fevered breath at a time, the boy¡¯s fingers edged closer. Slower, every meal. Weaker, every day. A wet slap. The dim rattle of a bowl nearly toppled. A trembling heave. A hiccup. Nothing. Hopelessness. Defeat.


    The chill hiss of annoyance that escaped my lips trickled down the fever-drenched back of my snack. The boy didn¡¯t care, didn¡¯t even bother to flinch anymore. Too weak. Too close to dying to feed himself.


    I strained my neck, my tiny and frail form struggling forward until my fangs brushed past a spine. Questing onwards I sought my way up towards the nape of his neck. Hunger howled. Temptation, impossible to deny. It unmoored me, threatened to swallow me in a vicious and endless storm of need. But I was stronger than the desires of my nature. With a gentle caress, the slightest pull of my teeth on his neck, I led my little snack to his food.


    Nice food. Gentle food. Feed my food. Snack my snack. Eat. Grow strong. Live. Soon you will feed me.


    With my desperate mantra sung, and my snack sated and calm, torpor carried me away from relentless hunger once more.


    Three beating hearts. Six. Three again.


    Hunger, always hunger, and food right there, underneath me.


    Just a little nibble, a tiny little bite?


    No. No bite. Too weak. Won¡¯t be able to stop. Need to conserve the food until I can escape.


    Three beating hearts. Six.


    An aborted gasp.


    Five and a hint of blood?


    I stirred, struggling myself out of torpor in urgent haste, rousing myself into a state of wakefulness that I had long ago given up on. I was so starved I hardly knew where I was, memory and clarity returning only in hazy fragments. Yet even then, I was present enough to understand that something vital had changed.


    I blinked, a reflex, a pointless habit. My gummed-up eyelids frayed apart from the sudden motion. The pain of it stirred me awake that much faster. On instinct, I flexed a tendril of my Metzus. Ambient Tonaltus scorched it to shreds, burning through the questing tendril and tunneling straight into my core. Reminding me of my situation in absolute, painful clarity.


    Containment field. Inquisitors. Captured. Dungeon.


    Hissing in agony, I forced myself past the pain and shifted my weight, willing my battered ten-year-old girl vessel into motion. The Tonaltus scalded, seared, and boiled away my control. It burned, rooted, and dug into my sanity until only one involuntary thought remained.


    Feed!


    On instinct, my fangs lunged towards the neck of my snack. I screamed, both in pain and in a desperate bid to keep from chomping down. I howled in agony and fury both, but only a ragged gasp escaped my torn-up lips. Lungs were needed to produce sound, but all I had in my chest was a gaping hole of torment.


    Heaving and shivering I continued to fight my predatory urges, and the prey that lay pressed underneath me lived.


    Why am I doing this? Why am I torturing myself?


    Just stop. Don¡¯t think. Don¡¯t feel. Just... Just...


    No.


    Something changed.


    The inevitable, human mistake. Carelessness that might allow me to escape.


    The soft grinding of steel on steel echoed through the cell above, and then down the walls of my oubliette. The slow whine of rarely-oiled hinges followed after. Unfamiliar-tasting prey entered. Hushed murmurs and spoken words that my fogged-up thoughts failed to make sense of drifted down into the shadowy dark. Fear, anxiety, and excitement tinged the air, breaking through even the stink of rot in my hole. A wet and heavy dragging sound followed, as dead meat and metal and cloth slid over damp stones.


    Once my nose attached meaning to those last sounds, it nearly pushed all reason from my mind once more. It was the sensual waft of freshly spilled food being pulled into my cell.


    Opening my mouth I inhaled every taste of it. I sucked the delicious anticipation that laced the air past longingly aching teeth and melted lips. I breathed it in. I breathed, and breathed, and breathed until all of that tantalizing scent was gone and I could once more taste the rot of my own flesh, and think beyond my hunger.


    Focus. Focus, focus, focus!


    I inhaled once more, letting the acrid fumes emanating from my slimy, putrefying flesh fill my nostrils. What remained of my body was no longer a solid mass, but a liquid mess that drooped over my little snack and covered the stone floor of my hole. And even that which remained was little more than a head, a torso, and half a leg. Dismembered. No arms at all. I used that sobering reminder of my predicament to push past the starvation. Something was happening, something important, right above me. Now if only my Metzus-starved mind would manage to string what I was hearing together into a coherent story.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Five?


    Why five Inquisitors?


    The answer to that question was right there. The conclusion should have been obvious. But my memories were just as mushy as the rest of me, and what little I could recall of my time spent in this cell was tinted through a haze of feral hunger. Reasoning my way towards even the simplest of conclusions seemed an insurmountable task, every half-a-thought sidetracked by starvation.


    Despite the agony that I knew would follow, I shifted once more. It was a minute repositioning of my mutilated stumps to better prepare myself for what was to come. Blessedly, only a vague pull registered on my seared nerves as parts of my skin stuck to my snack when I moved. Strips of my flesh stretched and tore until they peeled right off my bones, and I was so far gone that I hardly even felt it.


    Underneath me the prey whimpered, awoken by my stirring. Fresh terror bled off it. It had not sensed me moving this much since I had crawled on top of it. It feared its time had come.


    I hissed comfortingly into its ear and my snack stilled beneath me, yet whimpered louder. As the boy¡¯s pathetic hollow voice slowly broke into pleading sobs, I clamped my jaws around his neck, fangs brushing his jugular. A little nudge, a gentle coo, a warning hiss, and after a little more coaxing, my pre-escape meal stilled his pathetic display.


    When the opportunity came, my snack would serve its purpose. He would give his puny life to heal my charred and melted vessel. Then I would be gone. But for now ¡ª I loosened my grip on his neck ¡ª he would live.


    Finally, with the stillness of the prey beneath me, the reality of what was happening in the dungeon above my oubliette sank in. Whoever these Inquisitors were, they did not taste like my usual interrogators, and they weren¡¯t the parade of nobles they had shown me off to either. The five remaining heartbeats had dragged the corpse of the sixth into my cell. Instead of the usual changing of my guards, the three replacements had killed one of the three that had finished their shift.


    Inquisitor had just killed Inquisitor, right outside my cell.


    It was the mistake I¡¯d been waiting for. These humans that had captured me, they were only prey. They did not know about the wait in the way that I did. It is a game of patience, of letting the time where nothing at all happens disappear until only the significant moments remain. That was their one mistake. Instead of killing me, they¡¯d captured me. They locked me up and guarded me as if they were the predators. They were but prey. They knew nothing of the slow hunt. Now, inevitably, their pathetic prey vigilance had wavered. A fatal error had been made. The Inquisitors had killed one of their own. My patience had been rewarded. An opportunity to exploit their weakness had arrived.


    If only I could.


    I let my awareness brush against the energies around me. Nothing had changed there. The Tonaltus-based containment field around my cell was still there, debilitating as always. The field was harmless to humans who had an Atlus-based body, but would ravage ¡ª could even kill ¡ª creatures of Metzus like me.


    I was not restricted to Metzus for my magic. I could craft my own Atlus weaves. Could even manage very weak Tonaltus ones, albeit at the cost of grievous harm to my own body. None of those would help me. I was held in place by the Tonaltus field and the walls of the cell, and magic was not a tool wielded from a distance. Projecting a weave away from yourself, quickly robbed it of its power. Much quicker still here in my cell. Maybe they had done something to the floor and wall of the oubliette. Perhaps it was something peculiar in the Tonaltus. Or maybe I was simply so weak I couldn¡¯t manage anything anymore. Early in my capture, I had been so certain that I could break past whatever suppressed my magic and tear the Tonaltus field apart, if only I applied enough time and attention.


    I had tried. I had failed. I had given in to weakness and hunger.


    Hunger.


    Merely thinking the thought made my thoughts collapse in on themselves. High above me, five meals spoke in hushed whispers. I should have been paying attention to what they were saying, but all I could think of was the delicious mix of their anxiety and excitement wafting down and pushing past even the stink of decomposing flesh, putrid wounds, and excrements that dominated my hole in the ground.


    I waited, and attempted to channel my desperate desire to feed into the crafting of a plan. Five Inquisitors was a lot to fight my way past, especially with only half a leg and no arms, and with the Tonaltus field crippling me even further. But five was also five meals. Six meals if I counted the one they had killed. Seven with my own little snack.


    A feast, a glorious slaughter!


    Shadows flickered as the light of torches being lit peeled away at the darkness. One of those torches was plunged into my hole. Light danced on the damp walls, illuminating my pit in reflected hues of moss-green stone.


    My pet snack gasped, startled by the sudden light.


    Above, one of my soon-to-be meals retched. Such a pathetic reaction, them needing to actually witness the horror-hole they had dumped me in before they could be sickened by it. As if they did not know what they did here, to me, to the boy. As if by simply not looking at it, as if by not acknowledging it, their own inhuman treatment of us could be ignored and forgotten.


    A single burning light fell down towards us, fast growing into a brilliant glare. It hit the bottom with a wet splat, followed by a burbling hiss. Shadows trembled in deepening swirls as the fire of the torch struggled against the goop it had landed in. The light dimmed, then flared again, as against all odds the torch won against the gunk. First hesitant, then with a sudden rush the flames rose higher, licking at the rags worn by the boy lying underneath me.


    One of the three male prey above me whimpered at the sight of me and my snack in the pit. ¡°Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, this was a bad idea.¡±


    A determined female voice cut through the wailing. ¡°Oh Canth, you poor little pudding,¡± the female demeaned her sniveling male companion, then addressed the others. ¡°Piers, stay. The rest of you, guard the door, pretend nothing is wrong.¡±


    Her orders, issued in a low voice, held a strong edge of authority that contrasted deliciously with her taste of honey-sweet elderberry poison. It was such a refined fragrance. One I¡¯d savor greatly. If I had a choice she would be the first. Or maybe the last, to better enjoy her.


    A plume of noxious charcoal stink joined the melange of disgusting scents, displacing my hunger long enough for me to become aware of the eager snapping and crackling of flames that had found fresh fuel.  My little snack hissed in pain, then squirmed, buckling underneath with an energy I thought long ago snuffed out. And finally, as the flames licking at his leg burned even brighter, Arrin screamed.


    I pushed down on my pet, spreading more of my flaking flesh over his back. Gritting my teeth at the lancing pain that shot through me, I sidled sideways and batted the torch aside with the stump of a leg. The greedy, fiery thing rolled away, spluttering once more as it got buried further into the dank gunk.


    Without the torch to fuel it, the little tongues of fire that had taken hold of the moist, moldy rags around my pet¡¯s leg snuffed out. Then the torch sizzled out as well. It left my snack sniffling in darkness once more.


    Above, the door to my cell clanked shut, turning three of the five heartbeats into little more than a dull throb. The two meals that remained went to work. Metal groaned, then snapped. Chains rattled and hinges creaked as one by one the many layers of physical protection keeping me from the food above were stripped away.


    ¡°Valentina!¡± the Elderwood-poison female hissed down at me. ¡°We¡¯re here to get you out. Going to open the grate now.¡± Several seconds of silence followed, and then she spoke again, much quieter, in a tone I probably was not supposed to hear. ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me.¡±


    True to her words, the large metal grate covering my oubliette was opened for the third time since I woke up here. The way out was open. I was free, not that I saw myself climbing out in my current state. No clever plans either. Only Arrin¡¯s neck, close enough to sink my fangs into it.


    ¡°Rope!¡±


    The sudden shout from the Honey-sweet elder-poison female caught me with my fangs ready to pierce the boy¡¯s skin. So far gone that I couldn¡¯t even differentiate between thought and action.


    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re seriously going down there?¡± the one remaining male up there asked, the one the female had called Piers.


    ¡°Does she look like she can climb out of there unassisted?¡± the far too brave female pointed out.


    ¡°That¡¯s my point, Irina,¡± Remorseful-morsel Piers droned in a sad monotone, almost as if he knew that arguing was pointless, but was going through the motions anyway. ¡°Does that look anything like the harmless little girl we were supposed to find?¡±


    ¡°Piers, Piers, Piers.¡± The female tutted. ¡°That boy they tossed in with her, he just screamed. The child they wanted her to snack on is still alive, Honeybee. That¡¯s an entire kid¡¯s worth of food they gave her and she¡¯s kept him alive instead. I¡¯ll take my chances.¡±


    The end of a heavy rope landed on my back. I ignored the urge to shake the rope off of me. Instead, I coiled my muscles and readied myself for the inevitable.


    The female descended into my oubliette with the ease of a lifetime scaling up and down walls. Orange light descended with her, as she carried a second torch down. With a squelch, her boot landed into the excretion of my pet snack. She gagged at the horrid stench down here, hands instinctively rising to cover her mouth.


    Because of it, her hands also rose out of easy reach of her weapons.


    With all the power I could muster in my mangled, amputated limbs, I pounced.

 2.03 — Curiously Irrelevant

    The Elderwood-poison prey was here in my pit, alone. When it doubled over, gagging on the stench and presenting its vulnerable little neck to me, ravenous instinct clawed its way up out of my deepest self and shattered the last remnants of restraint I had left.


    I unraveled my tightly bundled core of Metzus and pushed every last shred and scrap of energy still in me towards a singular purpose. Thin, sharp strands of my true self penetrated every fiber of my decaying vessel, supporting my body where muscle and bone had wasted away.


    I leapt.


    Frail and vulnerable, the threads of Metzus I used to animate my battered vessel became exposed to the containment field. The Tonaltus poured into the meager layers of flesh and muscle still clinging to my bones. It snatched up every single overextended tendril of Metzus and followed the channels of ethereal energy all the way to my core.


    Howling pain ate through me.


    Ate me.


    Until there was nothing left.


    The agony of it did not matter. The last vestiges of reason and caution slipped out of my mind. The loss of those concepts was but an irrelevant, inconsequential detail compared to the depth of my hunger. And then even that comparison no longer mattered. Thoughts and ideas were stripped away by the Tonaltus. I lost flesh and blood and my very self, all of it irrelevant.


    Food!


    Blood sprayed. Sweet drops of nectar splattered all over my face. Instinct clenched my jaw tight.


    Can¡¯t lose the food. Kill! Rip! Tear! Drink!


    Falling.


    Pain.


    Prey gone?


    Something was wrong. My prey was wrong. My body was wrong. So much was wrong, but blood was on my lips and I drank.


    Lips? Head? Body?


    Briefly, the simple act of drinking sparked strange yet familiar concepts in my mind. Then, my body toppled forward. My forehead impacted the goo-covered stones. The bones of my skull, already softened by weeks of relentless Tonaltus, folded inwards. Mud and gore washed away the few strands of my hair that still drooped¡­


    Still drooped¡­


    Still?


    Something?


    Insignificant. Unimportant. I drank.


    Nothing mattered anymore. Not the agony lancing through my inconsequential fleshy shell. Not the terrible absence that came with having so much of myself stripped away by the Tonaltus field. Not even the howling void in my mind.


    What¡¯s a mind?


    I continued drinking, even when the feeling of precious liquid flowing down my throat became meaningless. I drank even though I could no longer remember what drinking was. I drank on pure instinct until I could feel the blood dissolve into me, into my Metzus core, strengthening me until I could once more form coherent thoughts.


    I could think anew and I thought of nothing. There had been more than instincts once. There had been a name, a name and a face and they were mine and they were¡­ I was¡­ I was a¡­ ?


    Am I?


    Panic gripped me. I was nothing but an inconsequential tangle of Metzus strands in a half-rotten corpse. All of me seared away by¡­ something¡­ dangerous? I tried to scream and flail, pointless actions that were meaningless holdovers from when I puppeteered a corporeal vessel.


    All I knew was thirst and so I kept drinking. I continued drinking while, in utter desperation, I sent tendrils of myself deep into my dead flesh-puppet¡¯s head. Some incomprehensible instinct had me rooting around in the brain, reinforcing the mush it had become back into proper flesh. I coiled myself around the cerebral matter, nestled my threads and tendrils into every restored fold, and shaped my self into a weave that could translate my incorporeal existence into a tangible one.


    I only let go for a second, to take a gasping breath, and then I was back to drinking. Several gulps later I recognized that I once more knew how to breathe. Then came the realization that I did not need to breathe.


    I was a vampire and I did not need to breathe. I was a creature of ethereal Metzus energy, inhabiting the converted host body of a little girl. I had pushed my energy, my core self out into the world to animate my vessel far past my limit. I had almost been unmade by the opposing Tonaltus energy that the Inquisitors had imprisoned me within.


    I was Valentina Bryce, and I had just come frightfully close to dying.


    It was fine. I had my skull caved in once and I had been fine, so it would be fine now. I had magicked my own brain out once and I had been fine then as well. It was fine. I would be alright. My body was only a protective container, a convenient avatar to interact with the material world. Damage to it did not matter. As long as I had food I could recover from anything.


    The blood I was drinking was stale, old, half coagulated. Cow, maybe? At this point, I did not care how stale it was, or what animal it was from. They could have diluted it with piss, and I still would have drunk it every bit as greedily. I fed as if I had not fed in weeks.


    Technically true. I haven¡¯t fed in... probably weeks at least.


    Aaaah¡­ delicious food.


    When all the blood was gone I wormed my fangs a little deeper into the skin and tore. I ripped it open with my teeth and then I could lick the inside dry as well. Far too soon it was all gone. I licked and tore and shredded and chewed, but there was nothing edible left. Just old, treated goat leather and the caked grime and guts I was licking off the floor.


    No more food?


    Just an old leather... waterskin¡­ filled with blood?


    On the floor next to me lay not the mangled corpse I was expecting. My fangs had not sunk deep into the Honey-sweet elderberry-poison female¡¯s neck as I had hoped, but much lower, into a waterskin full of blood slung at her waist.


    Weak. Exhausted. Maimed. Starved. Tonaltus field. Decomposing vessel.


    I had thought I had been clever, that I could control my hunger and enact some genius escape plan. There hadn¡¯t been a plan, only hunger-delirium delusions. The second that Irina woman had come near me, I had pounced her like some feral monster.


    I had misjudged my leap, so utterly blood-starved and such a feral mess that I could not even think straight enough for something as simple as that. The female must have had that waterskin on her or something. I had latched onto it instead of her neck, dragged it loose, and fallen back to the ground with it.


    Luck was the only reason I was still alive. If that waterskin had not been there I would not have been able to reach anything else edible in time. If my fangs wouldn¡¯t have found something to sink into, without the blood in the waterskin, I would not have recovered. With so much of my Metzus stripped away by my ill-judged leap there had not been enough left to sustain me. I would have been dead.


    I had come so close to dying that, despite feeding on the contents of the waterskin, I was still ravenous. Just thinking the thought already had hunger clawing its way back into my thoughts, threatening to warp my rationality in insidious ways. I fought it down, pushed it as far out of my mind as I could. Weakened by this Tonaltus field, if I attacked the human once more ¡ª there would be no miraculous second blood-filled waterskin ¡ª I would die.


    I would have to wait to kill her until after she¡¯d freed me from the containment field. In this pit, the only thing I was capable of feeding on was someone like my boy Arrin. And the only reason I hadn¡¯t fed on him was that the boy was mine in a way that she wasn¡¯t. In a way that only Dad¡ª


    Dad!


    Slowly piecing together the fragmented memories of my time here in this cell was a bad idea, because now I remembered the very first questions the head interrogator had asked me, and his wicked smile as he had asked them.


    ¡°Valentina Bryce. Adopted daughter of Sir Ormund Bryce. Curious is it not, how an Inquisitor from Ostea now lives retired here, even though no Inquisitor is allowed to return from there?¡±


    ¡°No answer. Excellent. Then I have no choice but to ask your father first.¡±


    I had been stupid. I had spent so long running, hiding what I was, and I had not ever considered the consequences. In hindsight, it was so obvious. If I was ever captured they would retrace my steps. A vampire running loose was too dangerous. None of my connections, no one I held any affection for was safe. I had to get out. Had to find Dad. Save him. My Uncle as well. They¡¯d go for him too.


    With a goal in mind, the back-and-forth shouting from the giant of a male up on the rim of my oubliette to the Irina female down here with me drifted back into focus.


    ¡°¡ªuntil you are safe!¡±


    ¡°Stop babying me, Piers. You can¡¯t keep me safe, not from up there. Put it away.¡±


    Instead of reacting rationally to the threat I represented, these two Inquisitors were having some kind of quarrel. How did that even happen? How did we get from me trying to eat her, to her ignoring me? I had tried to kill the female, and somehow she had not fled in a mad fright. Face down and absolutely caked in my own bloody mess, I took a moment to collect my thoughts and make sense of this.


    With a short lull in the argument between Irina and Piers, the only sound was the panicked, panting breath of my little boy.


    Oh. Right.


    Little snack? You scared little snack?


    He, my little boy, was huffing out quick, panicked breaths. My snack wasn¡¯t just scared, he was terrified.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Urraa,¡± I croaked in a strained cough.


    Right. No functional lungs. Nor tongue.


    I pushed my slightly replenished Metzus into my chest cavity, forcing the most ravaged organs and bones to reform. With how damaged my vessel was, it was draining work, and then the Tonaltus field started eating at my Metzus, unraveling every effort at mending my vessel faster than I could heal. Feeling my focus wane and hunger gnaw at the edges of my thoughts I shook my head and pulled my Metzus back in. Just lungs and tongue would have to do.


    ¡°¡¯s okay Arrin. Relax. Breathe.¡± My words came out in a liquid burble, my voice distorted by layers of drooping, melted, and badly reformed flesh in my throat. Air came hissing past gaps in my lips where the skin had rotted and flaked off my skull. But even with all that, it was enough to calm the boy down a little.


    ¡¯s Alright Arrin. They have new food for me.


    Won¡¯t need to eat you now.


    We¡¯ll get out of this together.


    ¡°See Honeybee, all under control. Now put it away.¡±


    Yes, all under control.


    And you are way to calm a meal, my sweet Elderberry-poison. I just tried to feed on you.


    I had to figure out what was going on with these two first. Something I had been doing moments ago, before I¡¯d gotten distracted by Arrin. I was clearly still a scatterbrained mess, barely capable of focusing on anything for more than a couple of seconds. Being much more careful than before, I only pushed my Metzus into one stump-limb at a time. Then, methodically, I worked myself onto my back.


    The first sight that greeted me was a crossbow, aimed straight at my face by the Piers male. He was only a mountainous shadow at the top of the pit for me, only a faint fragrance of passionate remorse and fearful apology wafting down to my nose, but the raging beat of his runaway heart was like the lure of a siren¡¯s song.


    So delicious, a hearty melange of remorseful and apologetic, tainted by worry and anger.


    I forced the hunger, the all-consuming urge to savor him, down. Then I blinked, in the most disarming, non-threatening way I could. Letting my hunger rule my actions made me weak. Letting these two dominate our interaction made me dependent on them. I had to stop doing stupid things and stop letting hunger and instinct guide me. I had to get myself under control, and then take control of the situation.


    I was Vale Bryce.


    I was a vampire.


    I was done being a pile of meat in a pit at the mercy of others.


    I was going to figure out why they had captured me instead of killing me. I was going to find out why another faction of Inquisitors wanted to free me. And while I was doing that, I was going to make sure my dad and Uncle were safe as well.


    Mercifully, giant Remorseful-morsel Piers did not fire at me.


    Keeping as still as I could I glanced sideways, towards the Honey-sweet elderberry poison Irina. Her heartbeat had mostly calmed by now, and even my gaze lingering upon her pockmarked face did not set her on edge. It was fascinating, the way she presented such a remarkable lack of self-preservation instinct, remaining this close to a vampire that had tried to feed on her. She was young but rugged, well-fed, and healthy. And just like Remorseful-apology Piers, most of her tender flesh was hidden behind Inquisition armor.


    Internal strife?


    Or did these idiots steal some Inquisition gear?


    I hoped for internal strife. There were more ways that could turn out in my favor. The waterskin full of blood Irina had carried was interesting as well. It could only have been intended for me. All of these puzzling things meant I should have been asking questions much sooner. I didn''t even want to know how far gone I must have been that I had thought pouncing her unprepared was a good idea.


    ¡°Why?¡± I hissed, rolling myself into a position that was a little more comfortable. ¡°Why do this?¡±


    A tiny shiver ran through my maybe-rescuer, barely more than a twitch. She disguised it by craning her neck upwards. ¡°Piers, enough. We are having a conversation. The crossbow is not beneficial.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t just her lack of self-preservation or the speed with which she had recovered from my assault on her. Even the way she worked past her fear of me so easily was commendable. This was a strong woman. My gaze settled on the sharp lines of her neck. A good prey, with a solid, beating heart. A nice, hearty meal.


    I swallowed.


    Focus!


    ¡°We¡¯re here to rescue you, Sweets,¡± the female pointed out, effortlessly meeting my hungry gaze. ¡°Don¡¯t get too sappy about it though. It¡¯s really just a job.¡±


    I licked my lips, maneuvered myself closer to her, and sniffed. I could not taste even a hint of deception on her.


    Tasty though.


    ¡°Curious,¡± I wondered aloud.


    At the sound of the word coming off my lips, the female shivered once more. It had been ages, close to a decade since my voice had sounded so empty. I had spent so long working on all the subtle intricacies of speech, getting the inflection just right, and infusing my words with feelings and emotions. The only times I had dropped the act was when I had wanted to make a point.


    All of that spent effort seemed so pointless now. So much practice at pretending to be human, so much foolish weakness, and all it had done was get me locked up in this cell. Pretending to be human had turned me into little more than the remains of a corpse left to rot in a dungeon.


    Yet despite how futile it all felt, this woman had still come here to save me. I had to push past those lingering fragments of her fear somehow. I cleared my throat and tried again. ¡°Curious?¡± The word still came out hollow, but at least there was the slight rising inflection now that marked it as a question. I tilted my head upwards so that I could also study the reaction of her companion standing at the rim of the oubliette. ¡°Who paid you to free a vampire?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know, Sweets. Just paid a lot.¡± The Irina female tugged at one of her bracers.


    The subtle shift in her fragrance told me the indifference in the gesture was not entirely sincere. Either she was holding back, or perhaps my attempt to pour emotion into my voice unnerved her. Or maybe this was merely the same thing that happened every time someone learned what I was, the manifestation of the prey¡¯s instinctive fear of a predator that could react violently at the slightest provocation.


    Need more time for this.


    Won¡¯t get any.


    ¡°You were paid a lot, and that was enough to get you to free a vampire?¡± I tilted my head at her. A limp, sagging muscle in my neck stretched into a ropy paste and my head dropped much further than I had intended it to.


    ¡°They allowed us to make up our own mind. The details of your case might be secret but... information leaks. No thralls. No murders. Working as a hunter alongside Inquisitors. Doesn¡¯t touch a drop of human blood. It... and well...¡± She gestured uselessly as her explanation sputtered to a halt.


    ¡°And well?¡± I tried on a friendly smile. I hoped that with my fangs poking through torn lips, it would look creepy more than reassuring. The confusing combination of gentle and terrifying might have her revealing more than intended.


    ¡°You know...¡± she stalled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I raised my voice and frowned. She was clearly hiding something, and I made it obvious that I was aware. ¡°What do you want from me in return?¡± The stern effect I was going for ended up somewhat ruined by parts of an eyebrow leaking into my eye.


    Up above, the protective male reacted to the hostility that had seeped into my voice by once more reaching for his crossbow.


    ¡°Piers!¡± The female let out a short hiss at her male, not even bothering to look up at him. She then rolled her eyes, a wildly exaggerated gesture that was clearly intended for me because there was no way the male could see it from up there. ¡°I believe you¡¯ve lived a free life, Valentina, an honest life, and I do not want to see us repeating the mistakes from Ostea.¡±


    I kept my face carefully passive. In an attempt to stall, I focussed some of my precious and near-depleted supply of Metzus to heal the flesh clinging to my skull before that skull was all I had left.


    While I did that, I mulled over her words. She sounded like some kind of vampire-loving cultist. They¡¯re just a little misunderstood, embrace and accept them in our hearts. It was insane. I knew my kind. I had committed to tearing out her throat just minutes ago. That was the kind of monster I was.


    That meant she was probably lying. This might just be a new interrogation tactic, a way to get me to comply with their questions. Or this could be something to do with that parade of pompous asses they had showcased me to. Maybe that one male who had tasted so much of velvet chains and bloody comfort was behind all this.


    I tried to reach for the scattered, half-remembered fragments of feral recollection that had just surfaced. Yet try as I might, I just couldn¡¯t shape them into something more coherent. All that remained from that memory was the vague impression that I had been shown off, that it had angered and frustrated my interrogators, and that the Velvet-chains noble responsible for that anger had been¡­ unafraid? So much like this Irina woman? He had pissed off my interrogator. He had done something or said something that my feral recollection couldn¡¯t make sense of.


    Going feral was horrid. I never remembered. Not really. Not rationally. All that lingered were scents and sounds and instincts.


    Can¡¯t keep stalling. Need to decide and adjust as I go.


    The female clearly wasn¡¯t being entirely truthful. I could not trust her. At the same time, she was right, in a way. So far the Inquisitors had not seen me drink from a human, or even harm a human. They must have investigated my past. They must have noticed. Irina had said as much. All their attempts at interrogating me pointed at it. It puzzled them, this restraint of mine.


    Could this be a way out that doesn¡¯t turn everything into a slaughter?


    How¡¯d the Inquisition react if I got out with not a single body drained?


    There was a significant chance this might be a trap. There was always a chance of that. But even then, this was the best opportunity I would get in a long time. I could not afford to let it go to waste.


    Let''s see where this leads.


    Guess my snack will live a little longer still.


    I brought my tongue out, trying to lick at my lips.


    So hungry.


    I would need more, so much more blood if I wanted to get out without succumbing to my hunger. Thankfully, Irina and Piers had spilled more for me up there. I did not need to kill what had already been killed for me.


    All I needed was their help getting out of the Tonaltus field. I glanced up towards the rim of my pit once more, then at Irina. ¡°I do not trust you,¡± I growled. ¡°But...¡± I lifted my chin in the direction of the rope. ¡°We are wasting time.¡±


    ¡°You are right, we are wasting time,¡± Irina said. ¡°Let me tie you in. I¡¯ll go up first. Then the both of us will pull you out of this Tonaltus field.¡± She held out a hand, then pulled it back. ¡°Please don¡¯t eat me?¡±


    I gave her a slow nod and the best imitation of a genuine smile I could manage. ¡°Don¡¯t give me a reason to, and I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Okay, just a moment then.¡± The female knelt down next to my no-longer-snack.


    She going to pull the kid out too?


    That was the stupidest thing ever. Without me, the Inquisitors had no reason to keep the kid down here. They would get him out, put him in a proper cell, give him the medical attention he¡ª


    Oh gods. I remembered his screams. I had begged for food and they had tossed him in here, tossed him down from all the way up there. As by some miracle, he had survived the fall. He¡¯d wailed and screamed and begged and bled all over me.


    And I¡­ like a fool I had used every scrap of resolve and sanity I had left to save the kid¡¯s life. I had figured out how to break past the magic suppression field, but instead of freeing myself I had used the knowledge to stabilize the kid and doomed myself in the process.


    They wouldn¡¯t save little Arrin if I escaped. They had wanted him dead in the first place. We had to save the kid. I turned towards Irina¡­


    Just in time to watch her slit the boy¡¯s throat.


    ¡°No!¡± I hissed out, too late to change anything.


    Irina had given me blood. I no longer needed to feed on Arrin to get out. He was supposed to survive this, survive me. Instead, his disbelieving eyes drifted out of focus. His feeble grasping hands fell limp. His blood pulsed out of the gash in his neck to the tantalizing rhythm of his ebbing life.


    Inevitably, my gaze was drawn towards the spill. The dark liquid spurting out of the wound was tempting me, teasing my hunger, urging me closer. Scrambling over, ignoring the burn of Tonaltus eating away at me as I moved, I wrapped my maimed vessel around his limp form. ¡°It¡¯s okay, it¡¯s alright,¡± I shushed, tracing small circles on the boy¡¯s back with a stump of an arm.


    I doubted the kid had ever imagined dying by something other than me. And then¡­ he must have overheard us. Even in his fevered delirium, Arrin must have had some awareness of what was going on. For the first time since he had been dumped in here with me, I wasn¡¯t lying on top of him, ready to sink my fangs into him. He might even have been aware enough for the tiniest spark of hope.


    Yet now, his blood was everywhere, his heartbeat was already slowing, and it was not my doing. If only there was healing magic that worked fast enough to deal with a slit throat. If only I hadn¡¯t been caught, chopped into easily transportable chunks. If only I hadn¡¯t been so stupid.


    If only...


    Head digging into the boy¡¯s neck, my lips latched on to the gash. Pulling him close, in a comforting embrace, I began sucking up the leaking ambrosia. Yes, the blood I was lapping up was already contaminated with the stale water, gunk, piss, and shit coating the bottom of the pit. But it was still blood. I would not let it go to waste.


    Only seconds later, Arrin¡¯s fragile little heart gave out. Far too soon the spurt of blood became little more than a drying trickle.


    And I was still so incredibly hungry.

 2.04 — Cruel Catharsis

    I held Arrin¡¯s delicate corpse a while longer, drawing every last drop I could out of it. I remained wrapped around him for one final moment because nearness to his feverish warmth had been most of my existence in this nightmarish pit. I clung to him because his death was a welcome reminder.


    So young. So weak. So pitiful. So frail, their pathetic prey lives. So insignificant compared to me.


    And yet I¡¯m still so useless!


    I slipped off of Arrin¡¯s corpse and allowed gravity to roll me onto my back. Glaring up at the repugnant Elderberry female, I let my urge to assert dominance take over. ¡°Don¡¯t ever do something like that again¡­¡± I declared, letting silence stretch out between us instead of finishing the sentence.


    The blood from Arrin had been far too little, yet at the same time, it was enough for some small measure of clarity in my thinking. I had found a way out of my prison, days or maybe weeks ago. Then I used that knowledge to heal Arrin instead of freeing myself. Wielding Tonaltus magic to save the kid while I had been in such a pathetic state had unmade me back then.


    Now, having fed on the boy¡¯s corpse, I was probably strong enough to try to break free once more. Carefully, I reached for the energies around my prison. I felt for the places in the weave I would need to manipulate to disrupt the anti-magic field. It was good to know my idle threat wasn¡¯t mere bluff. By killing the child, the Elderpoison female had made herself and her companions redundant.


    Yet even with the threat and my unbreathing, lifeless gaze boring into the Irina woman, she remained defiant. ¡°No, Sweets. If I had asked your opinion on the matter, you wouldn¡¯t have agreed.¡± She stood up straight. ¡°That kid was beyond saving. Keeping him alive like that, it was cruel of you, so don¡¯t you dare protest, or you can find your own way out.¡±


    Cruel?


    It was her kind that had dumped me in this pit and left me to rot. It was her fellow Inquisitors who had dumped the boy in here, expecting him to be eaten by me. And she dared lecture me on cruelty?


    Yes, I had kept the boy from dying. Yes, he had survived more on terror of me than anything else. Yes, I had only considered him as prey, as food, as a way out of this cell. But that was nothing compared to what they had done to me.


    I closed my mouth, swallowing the rebuke that I had prepared. There was no point. Nothing would change. The prey was dead. No way back. Just a corpse. Meat. No more point in grieving. Or caring.


    I spared one more look for the child-shaped pile of flesh, then nodded up at the female. I decided to withhold that I was no longer at her mercy a little longer. Humans who believed they had the upper hand always made such interesting mistakes.


    After strapping me in, Irina climbed up with the same ease she had descended into the oubliette. A little later Irina and Piers were hauling me out, the rope biting a little deeper into my Tonaltus-softened flesh with each upwards tug.


    For the first few pulls on the rope, I looked up, towards the rim. But when freedom came closer my gaze was lured downwards once more, towards Arrin¡¯s baleful, dead eyes and blood-drained flesh.


    The people back in Birnstead, what would they think of this?


    Uncle Hadrian?


    I doubted they would recognize this side of me. Despite how often I had tried to explain it to them, they had not believed me. They had trusted my kindness. Even Elderberry-poison Irina had mentioned it as her reason for freeing me. No thralls. No murders. So many people had been convinced they knew me better than I knew myself, and I had almost begun to believe them.


    When they had first dumped me in this pit I had even spat out the human blood they had tried to feed me, disgusted at the atrocity. How foolish of me that had been. Now I had greedily drank Arrin dry. The truth of my nature lay revealed with his corpse. The only empathy I had was pretend. My cute little hunter-girl disguise, once good enough to fool even myself, it was slipping away from me.


    With a final lurch on the rope, I reached the top. I crawled over the rim, rolled free of the edge, and then I floated. The crushing pressure of the Tonaltus field evaporated and suddenly the world was all fluffy clouds and painted rainbows. I was running, falling, flying, soaring, sailing. I was light and free and¡ª


    Please, don¡¯t be a dream!


    Please, please, please don¡¯t let this be a dream...


    The relief I felt upon escaping the containment field was almost palpable. For a moment, I just allowed the complete lack of pressure to wash over me. I let out a breath of delight and simply savored the feel of air on my skin. Not being torn apart by Tonaltus, it was indescribable. I thought I had forgotten how to feel the pain of it. The reality was both worse and so much better, I had forgotten how not to feel pain.


    I could have lain there forever, but the wet slap of fresh meat on stone pulled me out of ecstasy. Irina had dumped a whole cut of meat right next to my head. Not a tiny, already portioned piece you put on a grill, but the big hunk of muscle kind you keep in a larder, pounds and pounds and pounds of it.


    Irina¡¯s intention was clear, and she was right. Contentment would have to wait. I needed to escape first, and food to heal my battered vessel would aid with that. I tore into the meat, not caring how ugly or gruesome it looked as I ripped hunks of it off with my bare fangs. I barely chewed, and after a first couple of swallows, I pushed Metzus through every inch of my body.


    The familiar not-quite painful but not-quite comfortable sensation of my unnatural regeneration crawled over my flesh. Bones inside my chest straightened and hardened, organs knit together, new flesh and muscle strung itself over bone. Where my arms had been torn off, fresh bone grew, pushing past the rotten, festering, necrotic stumps of flesh. The bones became arms, wrists, hands. Soon after, tendons, blood vessels, nerves, and finally flesh and fat and skin snaked themselves over the new bone.


    I watched it happen with curious detachment, more focused on devouring the food in front of me than anything else. Soon the entire hunk of meat was gone. By then I had control of my new arms. I clawed away at the layer of old, decomposing, half-liquified flesh still covering me, stripped my vessel bare of the contaminated flesh, and stuffed it in my mouth, preferring to scarf it down and grow it all anew instead of healing the rotten mess.


    Even then there wasn¡¯t enough food. My limbs grew back as spindly things, barely more than skin over bone. My spine became a hard ridge on my back and my ribs jutted out starkly as what little fat and muscle I had elsewhere was repurposed. But at least I had arms and legs once more.


    And all the time I was knitting myself back together those two tasty morsels, Irina and Piers, were arguing about the sanity of saving me. Staring at them in wonder, I combed a hand over my skull. When I pulled my hand back, gelatinous clods of goop trailed over my fingers.


    The giant male gesticulated from me to the pit, and when he did he followed the gesture with his eyes. It made the Remorseful-morsel look at me, properly look at me.


    I flicked my hand, but the ropy threads of rotten flesh I¡¯d scraped off my scalp, radiating in hues of red and yellow in the light of torches, stuck to my fingers and refused to come off.


    His breath caught and I could physically hear his stomach heaving. With two heavy gulps of air, he fought to keep his food inside.


    The Honey-blood female followed her male¡¯s gaze, the tilt of her head perfectly accentuating her exposed neck.


    My eyes roved over these two terrified meals, taking in every inch of their delicious bodies, the male¡¯s anxious fear, the female¡¯s heartbeat thrilling that same erratic fast-paced drum that had made me pounce on her down in the pit.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Healed too much too fast.


    Control yourself, Vale. Don¡¯t eat the food yet.


    With those two snacks in front of me, licking the goop off my fingers suddenly wasn¡¯t as appetizing as it had been. The sound of their heartbeat, the taste of their terror, those were so much more important than anything else. I forced my gaze away and chewed on my lip in a desperate bid to distract myself from the prey-like behavior of my saviors.


    Even preoccupied with the temptation of two fresh meals, a small part of me recognized that I was the problem. The sight of my gruesome regeneration amplified their fear, which roused and rattled the feral part of me that was still so close to the surface, only for that to further fuel their primal terror.


    They seemed to understand this as well. That entire argument they were having, it was fabricated. It was merely the female¡¯s attempt at keeping both herself and her companion focused on something other than me regrowing close to my entire body. It had failed. All it had taken for them to become impossibly aware of what they had been trying to ignore, was me glancing their way.


    ¡°How long?¡± I asked, trying to get myself to focus. I had already wasted too much time simply recovering. What mattered now was getting out, and understanding the secret plans these two had with me.


    ¡°You just spent a quarter bell growing limbs just so we wouldn¡¯t have to carry you, Sweets. Not much longer at all until someone notices we¡¯re breaking you out,¡± the Elderberry-blood answered.


    Meanwhile, the Sorrow-blood had become aware of the goop on my fingers and was staring at it in such morbid fascination that I delighted in stringing it out as far as it could go, then rolling it into a ball again.


    ¡°So, breaking out. What¡¯s the next step of your plan there?¡± I flicked my hand, shooting the goop off of my fingers, and straight at the male¡¯s boots.


    The remorseful morsel jumped back, too late to dodge the mushy gobbet. ¡°Oh gods, what is that!¡± He stomped his foot on the ground and flailed his leg, desperate to get the goop off, but too terrified to touch it.


    I blinked at the sight, then snorted. Suddenly I couldn¡¯t help myself. It was such an absurd reaction. Here was this massive slab of meat, nearly seven feet of overprotective male, dancing around in fright, not of me, but of a little clot of flesh stuck to his boots.


    I giggled uncontrollably and pushed myself up onto my frail, wobbly legs. ¡°It¡¯s me!¡± My laugh stretched my words into a titter.


    The Sorrow-blood¡¯s head snapped my way. His eyes twitched towards the crossbow he had so foolishly discarded, now out of his reach. Just my standing up, it made the terror of this man who was nearly twice my height spike in such interesting ways. I was only a little over four feet tall, skin and bones and absolutely nothing else. He had to look so, so far down and yet he had the look of a man facing down a threat the size of a mountain.


    It wasn¡¯t funny. I was howling with laughter, but it wasn¡¯t funny. Narrowing my eyes I rounded on my Sorrow-blooded meal as he limped away from me. I stalked him through the room with a slow, determined stride, and steadily forced him towards a corner.


    ¡°It¡¯s mud and shit and piss and my own flesh and blood melted off my very bones!¡± I ranted at him.


    With trembling fingers, the giant male reached for the dagger sheathed in a bandolier around his chest, but with the raw terror coursing through him he just couldn¡¯t get it out. His armor clanked against the wall. He let go of the dagger, hands trailing the stones, searching for a way out. His back arched, his knees bent, he sought to make himself smaller. ¡°Irina?¡± he whimpered and cast a pleading look at the female.


    Backlit by the torches, my shadow loomed over him, making me appear so much taller than my tiny four-foot height. I placed a hand on each side of him, trapping him between me, my twig-like arms, and the wall, and smiled up at him. ¡°That¡¯s what happens when you dump a vampire in a Tonaltus field, Sorrow-blood.¡± Then I grinned even wider and shoved that mad grin of mine so close to his chest that I could lick the fear right of his sweaty neck. ¡°That gunk is what you! Did! To me!¡±


    This was amazing, intoxicating validation. This absolute terror of his, it was bliss. It was¡­


    This isn¡¯t me.


    This shouldn¡¯t be me.


    Hissing, I darted away from Piers. Terrorizing the prey was fun, but now was not the time. Doing it to the people breaking me out was not the way. It was not helpful. It was not beneficial. This fury was... irrational. Deranged. Far too human.


    My eyes darted away from the prey, seeking something to focus on that wasn¡¯t the lure of the morsel¡¯s blood. Or Elderberry-poison¡¯s pulsing heartbeat. Or the Inquisitor those two had slaughtered and dragged into my cell. Or the streaks of my own bloody gore I had painted the floor with. Or the¡ª


    ¡°That help?¡± The female startled me out of my daze.


    ¡°No,¡± I snapped at her, only barely suppressing another hiss. Trying not to look at all of the food in the room was not working because I could still smell it.


    ¡°Not feeling better?¡± Irina tilted her head and lifted an elbow to scratch at her chin.


    ¡°Hungry.¡± I leaned in towards her neatly presented neck.


    Her eyes flicked towards the corpse of the dead guard. She did not say anything but the offer was there. Then, as if that offhand suggestion was insignificant, she turned her back to me and started rummaging around in her pack.


    I didn¡¯t care what she was looking for. After all my efforts not to linger on it, she had irrevocably drawn my attention to the corpse. I could not look away anymore. It was there. I needed it. The Honey-blood had offered it to me. She had offered me another human being as food, without thinking twice about it, simply because I had asked.


    I had asked.


    That single thought was enough to keep me from pouncing the sack of dead meat. I had asked. I was once again failing to rein in that primal urge. Quickly, before I could utter any more idiocy, I bit down on my lip.


    In an attempt to get away from my overpowering instincts, I leaned my head against the wall of the dungeon. The stones were cold and possessed a gentle slickness that was just enough to dull their natural roughness, but not remove the texture entirely. I ran my fingers over the stones, tracing their outlines, finding the cracks with my claws. I began working at those seams, picking at them, scratching at the dirt.


    Underneath me, the same kinds of stones cooled the soles of my feet. I twisted a leg and curled my toes. I scraped the talons of my feet over the stones, clawed my toes around one of them, and pulled to test how well it was set.


    The wintry air clung to me in tiny droplets of condensation on my skin. The chill leaked into my hair through the wet stones, turning it slick and clammy against my head. It was a nice and nippy kind of chill, deeply cold and reminding me of mossy caves, fields full of rime-covered flowers, ice-cold waterfalls under the light of the morning sun, or the misty air after a sudden springtime rainstorm.


    It was the kind of cold dampness that would set a person to violent shivering if they stayed out in it too long unprotected. It was the kind of coldness that reminded me of my dad berating me after I had stayed out in the snow for far too long. Little kid me, completely unbothered by the kind of frigid cold that would kill a person, Little me, completely oblivious and still learning how something as insignificant as a change in temperature could kill a person.


    Dad.


    I took a breath. A single deep breath. Completely unnecessary. Unneeded but calming. I exhaled, long and deep, the air escaping my lips with the gentlest hint of a whistle.


    I had healed too fast and lost control. Letting instinct and hunger guide my actions¡­ not anymore. That wasn¡¯t me, could not be me. I was better than that, subtler than that. Definitely no longer human, or anything that could pass for human; draining Arrin had proven that.


    Gods, hadn¡¯t even wanted to do that.


    There was no way back for me after this. My old life was over, but I wasn¡¯t dead yet. I hadn¡¯t been killed, and that offered me a chance. I would get me and mine out of this, on my terms. But for that, I had to keep control of my hunger. Terrorizing the humans into compliance when they were still being voluntarily helpful was foolish.


    Hope I haven¡¯t ruined my chance at subtler manipulation.


    Piers still stood in the exact same place. With his eyes downcast, his fists clenched, and his shoulders bunched up he inhaled and exhaled rapidly and deliberately. One harsh gulp of air at a time he managed to get both his heartbeat and his breathing under control.


    I patiently observed this wary reclamation of his courage until he was calm enough to look up and acknowledge me.


    Apologies would hopefully fix some of my mistakes. I had been good at pretending to be nice once. I could do friendly. I knew I could. ¡°Piers, right?¡± I spoke softly, pushing the illusion of fragility and remorse into my voice. ¡°I¡¯m... I¡¯m sorry. I shouldn¡¯t have done that.¡±


    His eyes narrowed. ¡°You just tried to kill me! Don¡¯t play your vampire mind games with me!¡± he snarled. He inhaled, pushed down his anger, and took his first step out of his corner. Warily he circled me, inching towards the safety of his female companion. ¡°Gods damn it, Iri, you¡¯re seeing this, right? Why don¡¯t you do anything!¡±


    ¡°Piers, Piers, Piers Honeybee.¡± Irina tutted, turned towards me, and dangled the thing she had fished out of her pack over my head. ¡°You want to know the plan, Sweets? This is where it starts.¡±


    Hanging from a plain cord, Irina presented me with a simple stone disc, but carved with infinitely intricate runes. It was old and worn, and intimately familiar to me. My amulet. Charged up with Atlus it would protect me from the sun¡¯s merciless rays. The Inquisitors had taken it from me, and she was...  giving it back?


    I reached for it, almost fearful that this was some kind of trick or illusion. I had hoped to get out, at best. Actually reclaiming this one item, it would make my escape so much easier. I would not be restricted to the night.


    I touched it, fully expecting her to deny it from me.


    Instead, she simply deposited it into my outstretched palm.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I sighed, and a sudden rush of relief twisted the corners of my mouth into a genuine smile.

 2.05 — Into Darkness

    After handing me my amulet, Irina launched into an explanation of their plans. ¡°The five of us have infiltrated the Inquisitor contingent placed here. It allows us to get you out like this, with only one guard we had to subdue.¡± She gestured towards the dead Inquisitor.


    A tiny pool of blood had formed under the corpse, little droplets of red coloring the stones, seeping into the cracks, going to waste. I should¡ª


    Focus!


    Chewing my lip bloody and suckling my own blood just to have something to drink, I tried to pay attention. Healing the extensive damage to my vessel had been far too taxing. I needed to feed. Again. But not now. I was more than just my hunger.


    I kept staring at the corpse, though. I needed to project the illusion of feral distraction. I had to make Irina think I lacked the mental capacity to see through the gaps in her plan, even when that made it all the harder to resist my ravenous desire. Already I knew there was one very important omission in all she was telling me. If that was on purpose, if she might be misleading me, then I needed her to assume I was hungry and distracted, get her to draw the wrong conclusions from my absent-minded display and underestimate me.


    ¡°¡ªbesides your cell. It¡¯s not that they expected people trying to break you out either, so from here we should be able to sneak you up to the wall without much trouble. Wall patrols will probably notice us when we try to sneak over it, but by then it should be too late for them to mount a response. The treeline¡¯s a solid 140 paces from the wall, and they won¡¯t follow a vampire into the forest at night. We¡¯ve got horses...¡± She snapped her fingers in front of my unfocussed eyes, once, twice, thrice, trying to get me to concentrate. ¡°Are you even still listening?¡±


    It was the middle of the night then. That was good to know. It was impossible to tell in this dungeon. Pretending to be only barely aware, I nodded faintly, swallowed the blood that had pooled in my mouth, and let my eyes drift back to the dead Inquisitor.


    ¡°Gods, I¡¯m regretting this already.¡± Irina sighed and glanced at her companion.


    ¡°Horses,¡± I repeated her last word in a confused tone. She had taken the bait, now convinced that I was so preoccupied by my hunger that I wasn¡¯t paying attention.


    ¡°You¡¯re regretting this? Only now?¡± Piers gesticulated wildly. ¡°I¡¯ve been regretting this since before we started. She tried to eat me!¡±


    ¡°Relax Honeybee, she didn¡¯t,¡± the female drawled.


    Right. One unguarded moment from me and they were back to arguing again. What was with these two? At least I had managed to fool them into thinking I was still half-feral. Because I had heard all of their escape plan now, and there really was a deliberate omission in it.


    Him, being dangled over my pit. My dad. Begging. Pleading. Me begging in return. Both our pleas ignored as they dragged him off and left me to consider the consequences.


    When my interrogators had first threatened to find my dad, I¡¯d hoped that it was mere bluff. Of course it hadn''t been. I had sent him letters, through the Inquisition''s very own courier service even. They already knew where to find him through those.


    Now I could only hope that he wasn¡¯t dead, that the questions I had refused to answer in my famished delirium hadn¡¯t resulted in his torture. That he was still being held here, in this same dungeon. But despite him having been right there, dangled above my pit, Irina hadn¡¯t mentioned my dad at all.


    If he was still here, I was getting him out, regardless of what Irina and Piers had planned for me. I stretched, testing the limits of my regrown limbs, slicked my hair back over my head, and threw another hungry glance at the dead Inquisitor.


    ¡°Are you going to stare at his body all night long, Sweets?¡± The female misinterpreted my stare and waved at the corpse. ¡°We¡¯re going to need a pinch more focus from you, so if you could just get it over with¡­¡±


    Playing into her assumptions of me truly resulted in Irina displaying a shocking amount of sass and acceptance. Abusing it was fun. I crouched down next to the dead guard and used the first leather strap I could find on the corpse to tie back my hair. I could braid it later or something. Next, my hands roved over the armor, towards my true goal, his blade. I unlatched the weapon and took it for myself.


    Irina and Piers shared an accusing look, as if blaming each other for not disarming the dead man, but they did not protest.


    Since I had the opportunity I proceeded to quickly lap up some of the blood that had pooled around the corpse as well. Then, as I was still scrawny and famished and already had Irina staring at me with morbid curiosity and Piers cradling his crossbow, I heaved the corpse over on its belly and stood on its back to anchor it.


    Really, the lengths I go to to make them think I¡¯m ruled by out-of-control hunger, instead of preparing in case they betray me.


    Before I could reconsider, I lifted one of the corpse¡¯s arms, unsheathed my freshly pilfered Inquisition blade, and activated its runes. Sharpness, destruction, localized Tonaltus field, I knew most of them well, as I had owned a very similar blade myself. I twisted the arm and simultaneously hacked at the shoulder joint. The blade dug deep. My strength did the rest. With an inhumanly disgusting squelch, the shoulder joint ripped apart, and then I held a conveniently¡ªbut not neatly¡ªcut-off arm.


    I quickly disabled the blade¡¯s painful Tonaltus enchantments again. Even this mild exposure had my Metzus flesh rot and boil straight off of my bones. That is why they had placed a Tonaltus field over my oubliette. That is why the Inquisition blades all had Tonaltus enchantments as well. Even wielding one of their blades was problematic for me. If anyone managed to run me through with one, the result would have my insides serving as rather gruesome wall decorations.


    Nodding at the two humans as I stood up, I continued my feral act. I licked some blood off of my fingers, wiped my mouth, and hid my still-bloody hands and my on-the-go snack behind my back. ¡°Sorry, still... hungry. Working on it. Ready when you are.¡±


    For the first time, Piers looked at me so utterly aghast that he neither cowered nor tried to raise a weapon at me. Irina, meanwhile, remained her nonplussed self. ¡°Been waiting for you all along, Sweets. Let¡¯s go!¡±


    The male opened the door to my cell, and I finally got a taste of fresh air that did not reek of blood and massacre and my own filth. Savoring it, I boldly stepped forward.


    Instantly, a heady melange of fear and reverence and worry assaulted me. Stepping out gave the three Inquisitor friends Irina had left guarding the door an undisguised look at me. I faced them, naked, sickly pale, corpse-thin, covered in grime and gore and blood. My talons scraped the stone floor as I stepped through the door, still holding that torn-off arm. They didn¡¯t see me, but an inhuman monster cataloging them with vicious, hungry eyes.


    And even though I¡¯d deliberately chosen to project this kind of feral image of myself, that sudden, instinctive, unrestrained fear left me feeling slightly queasy. Before this, I had always lived with my monstrous features hidden. I¡¯d mostly managed to pass for an adorable, innocent, ten-year-old girl. I could just walk into places and be treated as nothing more than a harmless little thing. Their reaction now, it was a perfect summary of what the rest of my life would look like now that hiding had become impossible.


    One of the three swore. ¡°Rot and ruin, this was a bad idea.¡±


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    ¡°You have no idea just how bad,¡± Piers said. ¡°Don¡¯t be fooled by her frailty. She tried to eat both of us.¡±


    ¡°Sarding hell, Piers. I¡¯m sorry, alright!¡± I threw my hands up as I repeated my earlier apology, and tugged at the strands of hair that were already threatening to escape my makeshift hair tie.


    Piers ridiculed me by exaggeratedly repeating my gestures. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, alright?¡± he mimed my words with a heaping dose of sarcasm and vehement disdain. ¡°Don¡¯t turn your back on her. She¡¯ll¡ª¡±


    ¡°Both of you, shut up.¡± Irina slapped Piers on the ass, then she turned to me. ¡°We go straight, then left. Stairs past the corner.¡±


    My five rescuers led the way with ruthless efficiency. Going straight turned out to mean we passed through a warren of corridors full of confusing twists and turns, the layout of the entire dungeon floor clearly designed to confuse and delay any would-be invaders. Every passage looked the same. High, vaulted ceilings. Bare stone walls, only sparsely interrupted by sturdy but plain, undecorated doors. Even the warm glow of the torches that had lit my cell was absent. Instead, the sterile blue glare of runelight strips ran along the walls.


    I stopped to tear a piece out of the arm every handful of paces. Soon, my dallying placed me at the back of the group instead of surrounded by Irina¡¯s people. That allowed me to properly taste the air down here in the dungeons. I exhaled, then inhaled, straining my nose and ears. With my superior senses, I could determine the movements of patrols long before they did, around corners, past doors. I found remnants of the many Inquisitors that had walked these dungeons in the air: my Creeping-brown-vines interrogator, his Spring-chicken assistant.


    When I didn¡¯t find Dad¡¯s scent at the first intersection, the one where we were going straight, I began to fear. He might be held somewhere else. He could already be dead. I could have imagined his capture in my feral delusions.


    But when we were about to turn left towards the stairs, I finally picked up the taste I was looking for. ¡°Wait,¡± I hissed, making everyone halt and stare at me warily. ¡°Irina, when were you going to tell me that my dad is being held here as well?¡±


    Perhaps I should have thought things through before speaking up. Looking at things rationally, choosing to care for a human was a repeat of the same mistakes that had gotten me captured in the first place. It was a sentimental choice, an oh-so-human weakness that anyone who wanted to harm me could ruthlessly exploit. But I was doing it anyway. This was my dad. Mine. Saving him should come before all else.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time¡ª¡±


    I cut off Irina¡¯s deflection by grabbing her wrist and pulling her towards me. ¡°Please answer the question, Irina, then we won¡¯t be wasting time.¡±


    The Inquisitors behind her activated the enchantments on their weapons and armor in perfectly synchronized fear, almost as if they had been waiting for an excuse to dispose of me.


    I bared my teeth in response. Killing so many of them without raising an alarm would be tricky, but they would lose regardless. There was no sun, no Tonaltus field. Even malnourished, that made me faster, stronger, and far deadlier than them. Finally, I wouldn¡¯t have to pretend to care anymore. I could simply¡ª


    ¡°Alright.¡± Irina flashed me a demure smile while gesturing at her men to stand down with her free arm. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you.¡±


    Gods, I wanted to kill this stupid Honey-blood and her entire gaggle of snacks. It was so hard to care for these pathetic humans, and this was the perfect excuse to drop the pretense. Why did she have to choose now to act meek and sensible? She was lucky I still hoped to question them on their motives, and I needed at least one of them alive for that.


    Warily, I let go of Irina¡¯s wrist and looked her in the eyes. ¡°You want me to trust you, but you are making that incredibly difficult right now.¡±


    ¡°Alright. I get that. We should have told you in advance.¡± She nodded and gestured once more to lower the weapons. ¡°This is going to sound cold and stupid, but we simply couldn¡¯t make it work. Getting the guard rotation to line up in a way that allowed us to get you out was hard enough as is. In the time we had to prepare for this operation, we found no reliable way of getting your father out that doesn¡¯t bring the entire fort down on us. Increasing the scope to include him now, that would risk everything.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about the additional risk. We are going back for him.¡± I stated my demand with a cold finality I did not feel. She was right. Freeing Dad wasn¡¯t the least bit rational. It would not increase my survival chances, yet I was doing it anyway.


    Irina clenched and unclenched her fists as her taste slowly shifted to relief. ¡°We have no plan for this. You¡¯d really risk all our lives for this foolishness, Sweets?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not seriously considering this, are you Iri?¡± Piers stepped forward, pushing himself into our argument. ¡°She¡¯ll get us killed, use us as bait for her own mad plans.¡±


    I smirked, revealing my fangs to them. ¡°Oh, she is considering it. Don¡¯t deny it. None of you are comfortable with saving the vampire and leaving the human to rot.¡±


    Irina ignored my remark, looked at Piers, and shook her head. ¡°Piers Honeybee, she¡¯s a vampire. She¡¯ll do whatever she wants. All we can do is follow along, rein her in, and hopefully prevent her from doing something she¡¯ll later regret. Besides, she clearly cares for her father. You know how much I like sappy family reunions.¡±


    I snorted. ¡°Enough of your stalling. Follow me. Or don¡¯t.¡± Turning my back on them I walked back the way we had come.


    Piers sighed behind me. ¡°Divines help me. Never thought I¡¯d have a vampire try to convince me to do the right thing.¡±


    Irina chuckled. ¡°Oh Honeybee, you don¡¯t know the half of it.¡±


    As we backtracked, I tuned out their bickering. But deep inside, I shivered. Convincing them to free my dad had been far too easy, and something was wrong with this Irina woman. I could taste her fear, could feel it just as clear as that of all the others. Yet she never acted on it, she never showed it on her face. Instead, she defied me, did and said things no sane person should do in front of a vampire. And far too often, she came uncomfortably close to seeing through me. By nature, Irina was prey, and yet despite knowing what I was, she still acted as a predator in front of me.


    Her behavior reminded me far too much of Aunt Reya back in Birnstead, the village healer who hadn¡¯t cared if I was a vampire. To her, I had simply been a lost child who had stumbled onto her territory and who needed some sense slapped into her. And then everyone else there had grown to care for me as well. And then¡­


    Damn. I hope those people didn¡¯t get the same treatment as my dad.


    Musings on Birnstead, or Irina would have to wait. When only two more corners separated us from Dad¡¯s cell, I made everyone halt, tasted the air, and then held up two fingers. Two guards at the door.


    Irina put some hands on shoulders, and the Inquisitors exchanged a bunch of hand signs. Eventually, Irina gestured back the way we had come.


    I frowned at her.


    ¡°Need to plan this out,¡± she mouthed at me, silent enough so that only I would be able to hear.


    Exasperated, I just held up a hand, palm out. My dad was right there. This was a waste of time. Being sneaky was pointless anyway. With all their armor, Irina and her fellow Inquisitors could never move silently. And even a whole day with soap wouldn¡¯t get rid of the rancid reek that emanated from the coating of piss, shit, and festering flesh that still caked parts of me.


    No, there was a better way. They were thinking like humans, forgetting I was a vampire and there was no sunlight to weaken me. Two Inquisitors, caught unaware, presented an insignificant obstacle. Keeping my hand outstretched I edged past them and towards the corner. When one of Irina¡¯s men moved after me, I pushed my hand out towards the person. Finally, they had all figured out I wanted them to wait.


    Please keep waiting.


    I took a final bite from the heavily chewed-up arm, a plan forming as I rounded one corner, and then the last. The runelight lines running along these corridors truly were an amazing way to light up a dark place, yet the need for trained Atlus mages to charge or manipulate them relegated them to a novelty reserved for the nobility and the Inquisition.


    That my cell had been lit with torches instead of magic was probably deliberate, a strengthening of security, less magic to tamper with. Unfortunately for them, they hadn¡¯t extended that same security measure to every other part of the fort. A fatal mistake. While I wasn¡¯t formally trained, my Dad was a former Inquisitor and had taught me at least some of their tricks.


    I activated the runes on my stolen Inquisition blade, strode straight into the line of sight of the two guards, and reached for the wall and the runelight circuit. The Inquisitors only barely registered the first vague hint of my presence when I pulled on the weave.


    The entire corridor plunged into a darkness that only I could see in.


    I tasted shock, surprise, fear, but not enough. Already their training was taking over, their footing shifting for stability, their hands reaching for weapons and enchantments. I surged forward, whipped the torn-off arm at their faces to buy me another heartbeat of time, leaped up the wall, twisted, and kicked off again from the ceiling to drop down over their heads. They were still activating the runelight enchantments on their armor ¡ª another human mistake, wasting time trying to see ¡ª when my rune-sharpened blade plunged straight through a thin chainmail neck guard.


    The second Inquisitor drew his blade and took a step back to block an incoming strike. The way he aimed to defend against a blow was his final, fatal mistake. He could have raised an alarm. Instead, he had wasted his last breath assuming I needed to complete my fall before I could strike out again.


    My feet hit the chest of the man I¡¯d impaled. Sailing his body to the ground, talons digging into his armor, I pulled my sword free and twisted my torso, slashing at the second Inquisitor from an angle he hadn¡¯t anticipated.


    A delightful arc of blood sprayed the wall.


    Two corpses dropped to the ground, me on top of them.


    I stared at the outcome in quiet amazement, for the first time truly understanding ¡ª instead of simply knowing ¡ª why my kind was so feared. And I wondered why I¡¯d ever been so set on hiding.

 2.06 — Breathing In

    My excessive violence served as a potent warning to the Inquisitors aiding my escape. When the corridor¡¯s runelight surged back on, four shocked humans joined me, a very, very healthy distance away. They had thought they knew how to fear me. They had thought themselves cautious of any potential betrayals on my end. They had just realized how very, very lacking their understanding of vampires really was.


    The fifth person, however, was not cowed. Irina marched towards me with fury plain to see on her face. Without hesitation, she leveled her blade at my neck. ¡°This is your idea of inconspicuous?¡± she growled.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t get to sound the alarm,¡± I pointed out, not even acknowledging the sword she¡¯d turned against me. With the enchantments on it inactive, it was an empty threat she did not intend to follow through on.


    I turned my back to her and tasted the air. Beyond that sturdy wood and steel door that barred the entrance to the cells, I could only taste my dad. Only one prisoner. No one else held here. Not Aunt Reya. Not Meg or Gery or Shae or anyone else from Birnstead. Not even Uncle Hadrian, who brought me gifts every year, who coddled me and let me ride piggyback every time I was in a mood.


    Who had let a feral baby vampire explore his tasty little neck without fear of being bitten.


    Only Dad, and that flooded me with blessed relief and horrid apprehension at the same time. He was the only one they had found and captured. Everyone else was safe. Safe. I had to keep believing that because the alternative was unthinkable.


    ¡°Sarding hell, this was a bad idea!¡± One of Irina¡¯s gaggle vented his annoyance at me once more. ¡°We should leave the monster to digg its own grave. We¡¯re in enough trouble as it is.¡±


    While Irina stewed in annoyance, I ran a finger over my sword, simultaneously collecting the blood on its blade, and deactivating the enchantments. Already I could barely feel anything with the hand holding the hilt, and my fingers were turning sticky in that distinct flesh-boiling-of-the-bone way that so defined the blade¡¯s Tonaltus field.


    Behind me, the Honey-blood sheathed her sword, and whipped her head towards her companions. ¡°Piers, keys. Get that door open. Canth, manacles. Get her father out and prepare to run.¡± She strode around me so she was facing me once more, stepped right up to me, and glared down at my face. ¡°Hurry,¡± she spat out, ¡°our idiot vampire shut down the lights on the entire dungeon floor. There¡¯s no way no one noticed that.¡±


    ¡°Ah....¡± I voiced my own mounting horror as the colossal magnitude of the mistake I had made sank in.


    I licked the blood off of my fingers because it was better than admitting that I had made an amateur mistake that could bring the entire fort of Inquisitors down on us. Better than considering that perhaps I wasn¡¯t merely pretending to be irrational. I might actually be so much of a feral mess that I didn¡¯t even realize how reckless I was being. That I couldn¡¯t even be trusted to reason through the basic consequences of my actions certainly pointed that way.


    I continued licking, trying to get my hands clean, because my dad seeing me lap up human blood would break him.


    While Irina¡¯s people worked to free my dad, I kicked the corpses at my feet and then knelt down next to them. It was pointless human behavior, nervous fidgeting that was preferable to thinking,  to fretting over how I had no quick way to hide these two bodies from my dad, or to get rid of the half-eaten arm, or even to make myself presentable. Better than worrying about what he would think. I had done enough of that in my cell and couldn¡¯t stand another second wondering about¡ª


    ¡°Tina?¡±


    My dad¡¯s voice was tinged with apprehension.


    When I turned towards him he flinched.


    When I rose to my feet he took a step back.


    I told myself I was used to it. He loved me so, so much, and even more if there was a safe three feet between us. He taught me with such tender, careful care. He soothed and comforted me like I was a ferocious wildcat kitten. He insisted on alternating sleep schedules because he felt safer that way. Not that that last thing even made sense!


    He was the Inquisitor raising a vampire daughter, and no matter how much he loved me, I was still the thing that haunted his nightmares, the same creature that had taken his wife from him.


    I hated it, despised it with such firm human resentment. He had taught me what love was, and yet I still couldn¡¯t tell if he loved me for who I was, or out of deep-rooted fear of what would happen if he ever stopped loving me.


    This reaction from him, right now, it was worse than anything from before. Utter horror bled off him. Aghast, he looked away from me. His eyes found the two bodies. A quick, fearful glance back at me. A whimper as he spotted the gnawed-upon arm. Then his defeated, mourning eyes were on me again.


    At least I held back on pumping these two guards full of Metzus.


    He should be happy about that!


    I rounded on him, pounced when he jumped back, wrapped my arms around him, and dug my claws in his back when he wanted to struggle free. I buried my head in his chest right where his heart was about to hammer out of it. I snuggled in his arms and smeared the gunk I was covered with all over his prison slacks while he choked on his own fear.


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    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± I sobbed over the frantic rush of his runaway heart.


    Don¡¯t you dare let go. Don¡¯t flinch away from me. Don¡¯t be afraid of me. Don¡¯t turn away from me now that I need you.


    With one of my arms, I kept holding him close, kept using my inhuman strength to prevent him from squirming away. With the other, I quested over his battered body, searched out every cut and scrape and welt, and traced every beating he had received and every bruise he had suffered. And I made sure to burn every atrocity the Inquisitors had inflicted on him in my memory.


    When I found one particularly nasty infected gash on his side, I recklessly weaved Tonaltus and pushed the healing magic into the wound. I coughed half a lung out as the incompatible weave tore half my chest cavity apart, but that was fine. Just a bit of damage. I healed. All I needed was a little snack later and I would be better.


    My dad¡¯s panic finally diminished when he felt the healing magic ease his injuries. Or maybe it was because I began spewing chunks of my lungs all over him. It was hard to tell. It didn¡¯t matter. His hands stopped pushing me away from him, and one of them found the back of my head.


    I leaned into his touch, glanced up, and sobbed dry, nonexistent tears. When my dad looked past me, at the carnage I had inflicted, I tugged on his arms and forced his eyes back on me. ¡°You¡¯re alright?¡± I pleaded. ¡°Please Dad, tell me you¡¯re alright?¡±


    ¡°Oh Tina¡­¡± he said with that annoying warning tone of his.


    I was too tired, too spent, and so starved for affection that I let it be and merely snuggled deeper into his embrace. I was pulled close again and I gladly let myself get buried in his arms. I inhaled deeply, and the familiar taste of his apprehension, the tender care of his love, and the nervous buzz of his pulse set my heart aching, and my teeth even more. I breathed all of him in, over and over again.


    ¡°Anyone else, Dad?¡± I asked after a while. ¡°Anyone else they came for? Uncle Hadrian?¡±


    Anyone from Birnstead?


    ¡°No baby, no,¡± he said, and simply kept hugging me. ¡°Just me. Only me.¡±


    We were still holding each other when a horn sounded. It cut through everything. It was unfair. He was embracing me. This should never end. I nestled myself even deeper into my father''s arms, pretending not to hear the alarm that indicated my escape had been noticed.


    ¡°They¡¯re onto us,¡± Irina pulled on my shoulder. ¡°Less hugging, more running, my Sweethearts.¡±


    I broke from my father¡¯s embrace and pointed two claws at her to shut her up. I did not need her reminder that, instead of using the little time since freeing my dad wisely, I had been too busy reveling in my father¡¯s scent. I could do that just fine on my own.


    I¡¯d postponed what was needed and had instead indulged in a moment of contentment. Again. Stupid me never learned. It was infuriating, maddening, I wanted to scream but that wasn¡¯t helpful either so I pushed all the pointless human emotion deep down until all that remained was predatory calm and focus.


    Tilting my head and opening my mouth I paced the corridor. Sampling the air and straining my hearing I tried to catch a whiff of the movements of the Inquisitors in the fort above us. Yet even with my superior senses, it was pointless. There was too much rock between me and the rest of the fort to make out anything specific. The sleepy, quiet of night had evaporated though, that much was clear. The alarm had woken up the entire fort. The window we had to escape might be gone, and if it wasn¡¯t, it was fast closing.


    Maybe I could still salvage this. If I acted decisively I might still be able to save my life. I was not going back to that cell. Not ever. I would tear down this fort before I allowed that to happen.


    The best way to buy myself time was a distraction. Except, I didn¡¯t trust Irina¡¯s flock for that. They had betrayed the Inquisition by breaking me out. They could just as easily change sides again. I didn¡¯t trust them to protect Dad while I was busy creating a distraction either. Yet keeping Dad with me while a whole army of Inquisitors threw everything they had at me wouldn¡¯t keep him safe either. If only I wouldn¡¯t have to worry about keeping him safe. If only I didn¡¯t care so much.


    Stupid, stubborn human weakness!


    A warm and loving hand massaged the back of my neck. ¡°Tina? What is going on? Who are these people?¡± My father took me in with those lovely eyes of his.


    His presence, frail and weak and exhausted yet so near me, held a promise of impossible trust. Somehow, he had chosen now of all times to believe that I wasn¡¯t a danger to him.


    I couldn¡¯t stand it, his mistaken belief, so I wrenched my eyes away from his gaze and fixed Irina with a stare. ¡°They¡¯re probably coming from over there.¡± I pointed towards one end of the corridor. ¡°I¡¯ll delay them. Get my father out of here.¡±


    As I spoke, I knew that my vague guessing as to the direction the assault would come from was right. Perhaps some predatory instinct I did not understand. I welcomed it. Carving my way out it would be. As a concept, it was both terrifying and exhilarating. The cage the Inquisitors had put me in was improvised, indicating that they had not expected to hold a vampire here. How far we had gotten up to now confirmed this. There had been no endless layers of gates and magical protections, no regiments of guards keeping security at every possible hour. I was held in what was not so long ago a normal dungeon, in a normal fort.


    This could work. The Inquisition killed vampires instead of capturing them, in part because it was near impossible to hold one for long. It turned out that here in Thysa, they had been especially ill-prepared for capture. It was night. I was still hungry. It would be a good hunt.


    Hah! Still hungry!


    I would be bone-deep in a blood-high by now if they hadn¡¯t starved me so badly.


    ¡°Gods, you¡¯d actually slaughter your way out, wouldn¡¯t you?¡± The Honey-blood female did not wait for me to answer that statement. She simply shoved my father towards her accomplices. ¡°Get him out, we¡¯ll follow.¡±


    ¡°Tina?¡± my father begged me, stumbling forward on legs no longer accustomed to standing after so long shackled in a cell.


    ¡°Dad, they¡¯re here to get us out.¡± I helped him keep upright and pushed him onwards. ¡°Go with them. I¡¯ll be right behind you.¡±


    I hope.


    The female waved her arm in the direction of safety, urging them to hurry along. Three of her companions dragged my father with them. She and Piers remained.


    I didn¡¯t spare the receding figures any more glances. It would only keep me wondering about all the ways Irina¡¯s men could betray me now that they had my dad. I simply picked up the blade I had discarded and began studying the corridor for advantages I could use.

 2.07 — Runelight Games

    ¡°Six men, armed and armored, maybe more after that,¡± I whispered as soon as I heard the two Inquisitor teams rattling down stairs, descending into the dungeon. ¡°Do they expect you to be here with me?¡±


    ¡°Doubtful.¡± Irina nodded at her remaining companion. ¡°Ambush?¡±


    Piers nodded back. ¡°Ambush.¡±


    ¡°Stay hidden,¡± I instructed the two humans. ¡°I¡¯ll make them think I¡¯m the only threat. Strike as soon as you have an opening.¡±


    While Irina and Piers moved out of sight, I pried loose a small piece of rock, clawed makeshift channels into it, and positioned myself in the middle of the corridor.  When six Inquisitors barged in, I was waiting for them. With one hand on the wall, the other holding the pebble, and my face projecting perfect calm, I seized them up and scoffed mockingly.


    My composure was pretend. I wasn¡¯t the least bit calm. I only had the vaguest hint of a plan, one that amounted to little more than abusing my short stature and their dependency on sight. And unlike the guards to my dad¡¯s cell, these six were prepared. To take all of them, I needed to be even faster, even deadlier than before. I would only manage that if I stopped holding back, if I sucked these Inquisitors dry or pumped them full of Metzus and splattered the walls with their innards. I didn¡¯t know if I had that kind of ruthlessness in me.


    Thankfully, for once, the horrid reputation of vampires helped me. And perhaps my gruesome appearance and the two maimed corpses behind me made a statement as well. A dozen paces from me, their charge stumbled to an apprehensive halt. The reek of their fear spread out around them. Even fully armored, weapons held out, and all enchantments active they were terrified of me.


    I did not wait for them to collect their bearings, throw a Tonaltus weave at me, or switch to a defensive formation and snap a Tonaltus field into place. I simply pulled on the runelight running through the wall. With the entire warren of catacombs plunged into darkness, the active runelight enchantments embedded in the Inquisitor¡¯s armor momentarily blinded them to their dark surroundings.


    They reacted fast. A blast of Tonaltus was flung my way.


    It was dark, and I was faster. I halted my heartbeat, stilled my breathing, and dove low, narrowly avoiding the worst of the wave of Tonaltus. All magic was ineffective when projected at range. Weaving took time and concentration as well. I needed to disrupt their focus before they could close the distance and fling more magic at me, so I surged forward. Diving low, I slipped between their legs, I stabbed my blade backward. Once. Twice. The armor at the back of the knees was always thin. I was through, and one Inquisitor fell, their leg suddenly no longer able to support them.


    I had missed the tendons on my second target, so I planted my feet. The claws on my toes gouged the stone, arresting my momentum far faster than boots ever could. I whirled around and threw the tiny rock I¡¯d prepared at their feet.


    The pebble impacted the stone floor. The light enchantment I¡¯d carved into it and pumped full of Atlus flared, then broke, pulsing a short strobe of eye-searing brightness.


    Following right behind that blinding flash, I was upon them once more.


    Unfortunately, these were trained Inquisitors. Even blind, with one of them down on his knees, they stepped into a circular formation to protect their hurt comrade. More enchantments on their armor hummed to life, and a Tonaltus field stretched across the protective circle they had formed.


    That containment field was nothing like the one they had placed on my cell. If I dove through their legs again, if I stepped into that circle, I would be torn apart by it. Eyes wide and panicking I tried to redirect my momentum once more. Pushing off against the ground, I clawed my way up the nearest Inquisitor. The talons on my feet dug into the plating covering his chest.


    My target screamed and flailed, ignoring his weapon and trying to shake me off out of pure primal fear.


    I fought to hold on, but so near to the containment field, the burn of it melted my feet. I quickly planted my blade in the neck of his companion on the right. Dead. With my hands now free I sought out the correct spot on the armor of my still struggling catch ¡ª the one the cell guard from earlier had reached for ¡ª and simultaneously grabbed hold of his sword-arm.


    The Inquisitor standing to the left of my prey swung at me, his enchanted blade humming with even more Tonaltus.


    I found where the light enchantments were woven into the armor. Pouring far too much of my own Atlus into the runes, the circuit overloaded. At the same time, I pushed off from the Inquisitor¡¯s chest. Holding his arm just a little longer, I pulled and twisted.


    My target lit up in an explosion of brightness, blinding him and everyone around him once more. Meanwhile, his arm, pulled forward by my momentum, entered the path of his companion¡¯s sword.


    A satisfying squish.


    A painful scream.


    I¡¯d pushed off so badly that I flew wide and wild, with barely any control over my direction, but as I sailed through the air I could only grin at my target¡¯s chilling howls of pain. Then my shoulder smashed into the wall.


    The three uninjured Inquisitors surged forward, taking up positions in between me and the two of them who were now badly wounded.


    Ignoring my probably broken shoulder, my half-melted hands, and the sopping messes that were my feet, I quickly scrambled further back.


    They took one more step forward. Then, matching my expectations, they stopped. I had already killed one, and disabled two others. To follow a vampire into a dark corridor was to die, and they knew it.


    Unfortunately for them, I¡¯d still managed to lure them into a position where they had their backs to Irina and Piers. Those two now had a clear path toward the two maimed Inquisitors and darted out of hiding.


    One of the three Inquisitors still facing me had to turn around to support his injured comrades.


    As soon as he did, I dove back into the fray as well. The other two were ready for me, waiting. It wasn¡¯t the same determined defense though. With Irina¡¯s assault, their formation had been disrupted. Without proper positioning, the Tonaltus field they had strung between them wavered, then broke.


    I grinned wide, fangs bared. Having lost my blade in the dead one¡¯s neck, I raised my claws. Ignoring their own swords pointing my way, I lunged for the nearest one, a female. No more tricks, no surprise attack, but a full frontal assault. They had seen what I could do when I held back, and I now made every effort to signal that I was done playing games.


    It was an act, a massive gamble, but if the way Inquisitors were trained had not changed since my father was in the Inquisition, then they would react as I expected. A vampire that reached for you this callously was about to pump you full of Metzus and splatter you all over the wall.


    The Inquisitor raised her sword to cut me off.


    I dove under her strike, the blade only barely grazing my neck and shoulder. Loaded with Tonaltus enchantments it cut great rents through my flesh all the same.


    My fingers reached up for her shoulder.


    She did not step back as she should have. She dropped her blade and twisted, pushing one hand into my side.


    I felt her Tonaltus burn through me. My entire right side detonated in a spray of blood and charred flesh. My skin and bones, lungs and organs patterned the walls, the ceiling, the floor, and most of all the other Inquisitor facing me.


    I screamed a soundless wail of agony. Great clots of flesh and blood sloughed off my pulped torso. A blasted-off leg dropped away from me. Mine. Dying. Dying. Could have killed me. Not yet. Do something? Left her wide open. I teetered forward on only one leg, gravity dragging me down and towards her. With my only functioning arm, I snatched her falling sword out of the air. I turned the blade around, buried it deep into her armpit, twisted and pulled.


    She staggered back, gurgling, eyes wide in disbelief.


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    Her final companion was unable to help. A spray of my flesh and blood coated his visor, blinding him. The underprepared baby Inquisitor was retching, heaving, and clawing at his eyes in a mad panic.


    Not that I was much better off. The room swayed and buckled. I gasped for breath, but instead blood burbled in the gaping void of my chest where my lungs had been. Pain burned through my right leg, yet it was funny since it wasn¡¯t there anymore. The floor tilted, and my one remaining leg was a mess of pins and needles that did nothing to keep me upright.


    I flailed my arms and it only made me fall faster because my right arm flopped uselessly from my mangled shoulder. In desperation, I sunk my claws deep into the retching Inquisitor¡¯s chest armor. I nearly slid right off as I was still holding the sword in that same hand.


    A terrifying moment went by where I was simultaneously fighting to remain conscious, struggling to remain upright, avoiding his panicked swipes at me, and holding onto my stolen sword. Then, I found my balance. I let go of his armor, angled my blade, and drove it up under his chin.


    My two pet humans had already taken care of their targets, so the Inquisitor I was holding myself up by was the last body to hit the floor. Broken and spent, I let my own maimed vessel sink down on top of his.


    All I wanted to do was lie there, rest a little, and indulge in the feast of my kills. My tongue touched the first pool of spilled blood, and I drank.


    I drank.


    I drank. And tore. Rent flesh from bone. And Drank.


    A heaving sound made me stop mid-swallow. Liquid ambrosia pooled on my tongue, but the gagging and retching had me fighting to not associate it with bile. Screwing my eyes shut and pulling my head back I forced my suddenly disgusting mouthful of meat down my throat.


    When I opened my mouth, I swished the residue of blood around with my tongue. A little dribble of saliva and blood slipped past my lips and down my chin. Flicking the trail of drool away with a finger I glared up at my Honey-blooded pet, who was holding up her retching Sorrow-blood companion.


    When she noticed me staring, the Honey-blood snack met my eyes. ¡°Sarding hell! That was sloppy, Sweets.¡±


    I bared my fangs and hissed. This human did not get to lecture me. She was nothing but my spare meal, my little pet Inquisitor. A delicious, fragrant snack like her only lived because I allowed it to. Just a small nibble would show it its place. She¡¯d taste so much better than the gunk I was scraping off the floor. She had a nice bit of weight to her, nothing like her companion, but still a good amount. With some luck, I could hold back enough not to drain her completely. Only a little bite, enough to sate me, but not so much that she needed help to leave here.


    But no, she was right. Far too right. If those six prey had activated their Tonaltus field sooner my dive through their legs could have killed me. During that dive, I should have pierced them all with Metzus right then and there. Pulling on that one meal¡¯s arm instead of simply killing it outright was idiotic. Going for a second blinding flash had been a waste of time. And focussing on creating openings for my two pet Inquisitors when I didn¡¯t trust them hadn¡¯t been smart either.


    I¡¯d already dragged myself halfway towards my little Irina snack when I finally managed to reason myself towards sufficient restraint to spare her. Pulling my fingers through the groove between two stones I raked up the blood pooled there and licked it off my claws.


    Have to keep the edge off. Can¡¯t kill her just yet.


    My Honey-blood was right. I had been incredibly sloppy and unprepared. Only the intervention of my two pets had saved my life. And even then my survival was pure luck. I had not expected that female Inquisitor-meat to push her Tonaltus out of her body and into my Metzus vessel like that. That was new, nothing like the Inquisition tactics my dad had told me about. If it had been angled better, that one attack could have ended me.


    It had been a suicidal move of hers. If a human pushed all of their Tonaltus out, into someone or something else, then it was just gone. It left them defenseless. Then again, I had been about to kill her, so her action had made a demented sort of sense.


    The Inquisition had clearly learned from the years of war. They had adopted a vampire trick. Pushing their Metzus into a human¡¯s Atlus vessel was the quickest way a vampire could kill someone.  Only, I was my Metzus and my body was merely a vessel. If I pushed my Metzus into someone, I could pull it back. I could strike over and over, while an Inquisitor could only do it once.


    I really should have just pushed my Metzus through them all when I dove through their legs.


    Still too weak and sentimental and stupidly human!


    ¡°Yes, it was sloppy of me,¡± I admitted, still licking blood off the back of my hand. ¡°Haven¡¯t¡­¡±


    I struggled to finish the sentence, the mere taste of the blood so overpoweringly satisfying that I struggled to think of anything. Gods, that blood was so, so tasty. I could just stop thinking, mindlessly devour my two snacks and everyone and everything. ¡°Haven¡¯t really made a habit of fighting¡­ people so far, I guess.¡±


    Have to keep it together. For Dad. Still people we¡¯re fighting. Not meat or snacks.


    Irina and Piers. Not pet Inquisitors.


    Irina held out her hand. ¡°I noticed. Now get up. We need to move.¡±


    Neck so close! Pull her down! Feed!


    I restrained my instincts, grabbed onto her, and let her drag me up from the floor. ¡°Well, you weren¡¯t exactly fast to seize that opening either,¡± I joked, desperate to hide how close I was to peeling her out of that armor and draining her dry.


    The entire right half of my body was a sore mess of spindly limbs with red laced flesh, regrown gaunt and wrong and far too skeletal because I was starving. I could count every bone in my body right through my skin! All of it was because I was hungry. So, so hungry! Oh, that pile of corpses, and the cloud of heavenly blood that hung thick in the air. The food was here, all the food was here, yet I could not partake.


    I forced my eyes to the ground. Leaning heavily on Irina I took a hesitant first step. My knees buckled under me. I willed my body to regenerate faster, but it barely responded. I was running so thin on Metzus again that it was hard to think of anything but¡­


    Food!


    ¡°Well, maybe next time warn us when you¡¯re about to blind everyone. That might help.¡± The Sorrow-blood snack came closer, threw my other arm over his shoulder, and pulled me forward. ¡°Can¡¯t believe I¡¯m helping the thing that tried to kill me. Now move it. I don¡¯t need the lights on to tell me more of them are coming.¡±


    Don¡¯t need the lights on?


    Only the glow of the runelight in their armors?


    They expect me to guide them in the dark?


    I motioned at the still-doused runelight circuit running along the wall with my head. Irina pulled on the weave for me. The warren of dungeon corridors remained dark.


    I hissed in frustration. They must have figured out that I was toggling the dungeon¡¯s lights to mess with their terrible night vision. They had disabled it somehow. That was smart. Dangerously clever even. Someone intelligent had taken charge. Maybe even the Creeping-vines Inquisitor that had led my interrogation.


    I tasted the air, inhaling another mouthful of pure, ravenous hunger. Yet below that hunger, it was there, tangy and aching at the back of my mind. He was here, down in the dungeons.


    Damn. Damn. Damn!


    How¡¯d he even disable those runelights so fast?


    ¡°Follow me.¡± I pushed more strands of Metzus into my legs, holding myself upright by magic where nonexistent muscles failed to support me, grabbed hold of Irina and Piers¡¯ wrists, and pulled them along. That man was bad news. We had to get out of here. Now!


    I dashed ahead recklessly, the two humans trailing behind me. He was here. I could taste a hint of him in the air. He was down here and up to something. I had no idea how he had gotten down here so fast, without me noticing. But this place was so much of a maze that it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if there was a third, or maybe even a fourth stairs leading up and out.


    I strained my senses, trying to figure out what was going on, but I had painted the corridor we had just left behind with so much blood that all I could taste clearly was that slaughter. Two things were certain though. Upstairs there was still a warren of activity, and the Creeping-vines blood was down here, somewhere between me and my dad. Worse, the Inquisitor was moving away from me, towards the other staircase, towards the exit Irina¡¯s men and my father were using.


    I hoped Irina¡¯s team had gotten Dad out already. But I feared. Dad had been so weak, barely able to stand on his legs. He would slow them down. And Irina¡¯s three baby Inquisitors wouldn¡¯t stand a chance against that monster.


    Oh, if he dares to hurt Dad¡­


    I had to stop him, but I was dragging along two fumbling, cursing, night-blind idiots as if I was their gods-be-damned babysitter, and they were slowing me down.


    I dashed around a corner.


    ¡°Valentinaaaa!¡± Irina screamed as she stumbled and lost her footing.


    Piers hooked his free arm around hers, dragging her up and along before she could hit the wall.


    To keep the both of them upright, he set his feet. I felt the pull of it tug at my arm, even my momentum unable to move his mountainous weight when he resisted.


    Not! Working!


    Letting go of their wrists, I snatched the first burning torch I found off of the ground, tossed it at them, and sprinted ahead. They could catch up.


    ¡°Ereldin!¡± I roared at the top of my lungs, hoping to catch my tormentor''s attention. I had no idea where I had first heard his name, or who had spoken it in front of me. But somewhere, during weeks spent in a feral daze, I had picked it up. Captain Ereldin Sung. The Creeping-vines predator. My warden. My torturer. My interrogator. The monster looming down over me from the rim of my oubliette.


    My nightmare. And if he dared harm my dad, then I would be his.


    Another corner and I spotted him. He was¡­ naked except for his underclothes. Defenseless. Vulnerable. Delicious! Unarmed even. Painted in the flickering lights of the torches he looked so like a harmless meal ready for the taking.


    Tasted oh so ready and¡­ prepared? Eager!


    He reached a hand to the wall, as if to lean on it. With casual grace, he pushed Tonaltus out and into the stones of the corridor. A circle of runes etched in the walls completed. An enchantment woven into them activated. And as he jumped back and away from me, in the place where he stood, a deadly Tonaltus field snapped into place.


    My talons cut deep gouges into the rough stone beneath my feet, as I forced myself to an abrupt stop, only a foot or two from the field.


    Sard! Sard! Sard! That would have killed me!


    Get your hungry head in the game, Vale!


    The naked Inquisitor smiled a sad little smile and met my assessing gaze. ¡°Here, in a narrow corridor, vertical is so much more effective, don¡¯t you think?¡± He took a step back, clasped his hands behind him, and tilted his head in smug satisfaction.


    He even tasted smug.


    And he had a right to feel clever. The containment field he¡¯d put up, vertical instead of horizontal, covered the entire passage. A doorway of Tonaltus. Didn¡¯t even know that was possible. Just from the energy it was giving off, I could tell that trying to leap through would turn me to a pulp.


    He¡¯d blocked my way out. Separated me from Dad.


    A low growl built in the back of my throat.

 2.08 — Torchlight Trap, Part 1

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Miss Bryce,¡± Inquisitor Ereldin Sung spoke over my growl, punctuating his feigned compassion with a sigh. ¡°Please return to your cell. No one else needs to get hurt tonight.¡±


    Return to my cell? No one else hurt?


    Hah!


    Nine out of maybe a couple hundred Inquisitors in all of Thysa lay dead in this dungeon. How naive did he think I was? If they captured me again it would not simply end with me back in a cell. He knew that. I could taste it in the fear and regret he tried to hide behind a nonchalant demeanor. I could feel it from the nervous pulse of the blood in his veins, so deliciously exposed on his naked skin.


    The convenient line of his exposed neck.


    All those tender nibbling spots so carelessly presented.


    The heat of his body.


    That wondrous fragrance!


    I scrunched up my nose in an attempt to dampen his intoxicating fragrance, and exhaled carefully to get my raging hunger under control. I had to keep moving, doing, thinking or I¡¯d succumb entirely to these feral cravings.


    This doorway of Tonaltus blocking my path was a trap of his making. All those torches I¡¯d run past, lighting the way, they must have been dropped there by him. Even how he had positioned himself between me and the way my dad had fled, forced me to react. He had led me here, and I had fallen for his ruse like the blood-starved idiot I was.


    Irina and Piers in on this?


    Behind me, the three humans finally caught up. ¡°Sarding hell Valentina.¡± Irina huffed, coming to a stop next to me. Wariness filled her flavor. ¡°Oh hell¡­ Sung.¡±


    Stop calling me that!


    ¡°Think we can get past him?¡± Piers asked, arriving way ahead of the third person. ¡°He¡¯s unarmed?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I fancy our chances,¡± Irina replied. ¡°If Sung looks like he¡¯s easy to take on, it¡¯s going to be a trap.¡± For the first time since meeting her, I caught an actual whiff of uncertainty from her.


    Wait. Third person?


    ¡°Tonaltus field,¡± I snarled as I dashed back the way we had come. The third one was not with Irina and Piers, but was Sung¡¯s Young-chicken-in-early-spring flavored associate. That mousy snack of his was attempting to use the arrival of Irina and Piers to mask her scent and sneak up on me.


    The moment the short Spring-chicken snack trailing behind Irina and Piers saw me dash at her, she lunged for the wall. Slow. Humanly slow. I was so much faster. I was going to make it. I would rip her to pieces. I¡ª


    Another Tonaltus field snapped in place right in front of me, far too close for me to be able to avoid it.


    I flung an arm at the wall. My right arm, still frail and tender. The talons at my feet I dug into the ground. I held on, claws digging deep into the cracks between stones, even as my momentum kept carrying me forward.


    The jolt as I pulled myself to a stop traveled up and down my arm. Something frayed, then tore in my shoulder, muscle and tendon being pulled apart in rending agony. I felt it happen, powerless to stop the tearing of my flesh, yet praying that it would hold a little longer.


    Relief from the rending pull of my momentum came in the worst possible way. The stone I was clinging to jolted forward. My talons on one foot lost their grip on the floor.


    ¡°Aaaa¡ª¡±


    My face slammed against the wall, cutting off my panicked scream. My cheek scraped over rough stone, mangling the side of my face into a pulp. Inches from the hum of Tonaltus I came to a stop.


    From the other side of the containment field came the gasping breath of the female that had trapped me here. ¡°Holy hells. Holy, holy hells. It worked. It worked sir! Your plan worked!¡±


    I scraped my face off of the wall and poked at the bleeding mess that was my cheek with the only hand I could still feel. My scraped-raw flesh should have hurt. It should have been so debilitatingly painful, yet just like all my earlier injuries, the pain of grit and grime embedded in my flesh was but a disturbingly distant ache compared to the immediacy of my situation.


    I lifted my hand ¡ª now bloody with my own gore ¡ª and reached out towards the Tonaltus field, testing its edges. The blood on my claws sizzled. Powerful. Instant death. If I hadn¡¯t been able to stop, if I had skidded just a foot further, then my passage through the field would have spattered this entire corridor with viscera.


    Utterly failing to hide my frustration I snarled at the little mouse-haired Spring-chicken. These were my two tormentors. These were the people who had dumped Arrin into my hole, who had tossed a living, screaming child 20 feet into a pit without the slightest hint of remorse. These were the Inquisitors that had tortured my dad. And now they had trapped me again. I would hunt them down. They would bleed. They would feed me and they would die and I would make it so sarding painful for them.


    Under my glower, the Spring-chicken meal stepped back and away from me. Once she was at a safer distance she shook her head in disbelief as she muttered under her breath. ¡°Holy hells. That totally shouldn¡¯t have worked. She really ran after her dad?¡±


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    ¡°Do you always talk to yourself?¡± I goaded her, still struggling to clamp down on my fury.


    My remark made her go infuriatingly quiet. She had been talking to herself, and I should have let her continue in the hope she revealed something more. But in my anger, I had made her aware and shut her up in the process. With a great effort of will I forced the burning hatred I felt down. These all too human emotions were only making me react recklessly and foolishly, and at a time when my hunger was already leeching away what little rational thought I still had left.


    A quick prodding of my shoulder gave me the futile confirmation that my flesh was no longer knitting together. The limb was useless and I was so close to starved that I¡¯d instinctively pulled the Metzus puppeting it back in.


    I fought that instinct now, pushing my Metzus back out and into it, forcing the torn-apart limb back to something closer to a functioning arm. Struggling against the lightness hollowing me out and the hunger devouring me, I turned to my two pet snacks. ¡°Locked me in. Tonaltus field on both sides.¡±


    Hungry!


    Just keep talking. Can¡¯t eat what I¡¯m interacting with.


    At least Irina and Piers were still here with me. If they were working with Creeping-vines and Spring-chicken then they would have stepped through those Tonaltus fields, out of this makeshift cage, and into safety. There really were multiple Inquisition factions then. Not that this meant I trusted my two saviors. Helpful as they were, they clearly had their own agenda.


    ¡°Hmmm,¡± Elderberry-poison Irina scrunched up her nose and glanced from one end of the corridor to the other, observing the trap.


    It caused the Creeping-vines predator to focus on the two Inquisitors with me. ¡°Irina? Piers? And here I was wondering what happened to the other guards.¡± He scratched his nose in a terribly fake attempt at acting casual. ¡°Of course, it¡¯s you two siding with Retivius, isn¡¯t it? I suppose I should be surprised or disappointed that the rot has seeped all the way here, but lately I can¡¯t seem to bring up the energy anymore.¡±


    Pacing the three strides towards the other wall in the narrow corridor, he then turned to look at me. ¡°I know you¡¯re a reasonable and intelligent person, Miss Bryce. I do hope you¡¯re properly considering the¡­ implications of this little prison break. You¡¯re going to get out, and then what?¡±


    Reasonable?


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you supposed to be a little more discreet in front of her?¡± My honey-blood snack pointed out.


    Reasonable!


    ¡°A little late for that, Irina dear.¡± A dark frown of annoyance spread out across Creeping-brown prey Sung¡¯s face. ¡°I doubt you¡¯ll be lodging a complaint about me to the commander any time soon.¡±


    He dares¡­.


    ¡°A reasonable person?¡± I stormed towards the Creeping-vines. ¡°You tossed a kid into a gods-damned murder hole. Alive. Conscious! You don¡¯t get to tell me anything about being reasonable!¡±


    He roared at me in sudden rage. ¡°That wasn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Did you even know the boy¡¯s name!¡± I snarled right over him. ¡°Would you like me to tell you? Would you like to know how many broken bones and internal injuries he suffered from that fall? Do you want me to tell you how long he begged and pleaded!¡±


    I stepped up, seething, burning with hatred. I stood right in front of the Tonaltus field boxing me in, panting in fury even as my nose and the edges of my hair sizzled and burned from the closeness of the deadly trap.


    Finally, with the worst of my fury spent, I looked up at him and whimpered pleadingly. ¡°Did you harm the people in Birnstead?¡±


    ¡°Oh divines, oh by the divines, you were right,¡± The Spring-chicken babbled from the other side of my new cage.


    Only then, based on that comment of hers, did I realize that I had slipped into oh-so-human fury again. And they were studying that part of me. When he¡¯d sprung that Tonaltus field, Sung¡¯s eyes had roved over me. He¡¯d tracked every little twitch I made, every shift in posture, every change in expression on my face. He¡¯d followed my gaze as I tried to not look at where best to sample him. He¡¯d frowned when I¡¯d exhaled. Even his Spring-chicken assistant became excited every time I lashed out.


    Unthinking, I had fallen back on my human mimicry. Despite all of my misgivings, despite seeing the flaws of my past actions, the second I had gotten out of that pit I had still defaulted to breathing in their presence. For all my taunting them with their fear of me, despite my every murderous glare, every hint of a fang, all the inhuman intensity I showed, I had still tried to project gentleness.


    I had colored my voice with humanity and compassion. I had even mimicked all the little gestures that could make even my dead vessel look alive. I had spent so long, an entire life before my capture, pretending to be human that I had slipped back into the act naturally. Naturally as... as breathing, something that when I wasn¡¯t paying attention, I did by default.


    In front of the Creeping-vines predator and his assistant, that was a liability. They were reading me, studying me, marveling over my pretend-humanity as if I was some kind of circus act. I always feared that dropping my human mask and surrendering to my nature might turn into something irrevocable. When I did, nothing I cared about seemed important anymore. But these two were exploiting my weaknesses. I had no choice.


    I breathed in deeply, closed my eyes, and exhaled.


    Together with my exhalation, I flushed it all out. Breathing. Heartbeat. Sympathy. Anger. I scrubbed all emotion from my voice. I dropped all pretense of humanity from my posture. I stripped myself of every last layer of human veneer I had spent decades building up. At first it was hard, every part of the act I dropped like something precious torn asunder. But then it became easier, the suffocating shackles of human expectations dropping away.


    The trembling inhalation of the silly Little-vines rat whistled through the air. His sobbing exhalation brought the first whiff of fresh terror. Then his fear spread like a plague, first infecting the Mouse, then the Remorseful runt, and finally even spreading ever so slightly to my Honey-sweet pet.


    They might not have quite realized what exactly had changed about me just yet, their minds slow to articulate the difference, but their hind-brains already knew. Centuries of civilization had turned mankind into an apex predator that dominated everywhere. But when faced with something like me? Prey. They were but prey.


    Once, having such primal terror directed at me would have horrified me. That cute little demon hunter Vale, scarred by years of being considered a monster, she wouldn¡¯t have known what to do with it.


    Now, looking back on my past actions, none of them made sense any longer. That blubbering mess I¡¯d been before, that useless creature that hoped it could be human? Hah! Yes, she¡¯d had her reasons for acting that way. I knew them so well because they were my own. But at the same time¡­ utterly incomprehensible. How could I have ever thought that irrational, emotional reactions and behaviors were a solid foundation to build a life on? The only thing being kind, being human, had gotten me was a spot in this dungeon.


    This would end. Now.


    I opened my eyes, and finally saw the world in perfect predatory clarity.

 2.09 — Torchlight Trap, Part 2

    Somewhere along the way, I had lost my makeshift hair tie, and now strands of my recalcitrant hair obscured my vision. I snapped my neck to the side, disguising a glance behind me with a gesture to get my hair out of my eyes.


    Back there, the mousy Spring-chicken nibble was wrestling with belts and loops, strapping herself into some quaint contraption with trembling fingers. Arrays of runestones were woven into the leather of the strange device she was donning. A weapon, probably better at stopping me than their pithy little blades.


    With her frantic, almost panicked gearing up, she might not entirely trust the Tonaltus trap they had put me in. Languidly, I returned my gaze to the Creeping-vines blood. His fear spiked. I let my eyes drift away and a sudden rush of relief followed. It was as if they feared me leaping at them, straight through the containment field. It might be worth a try, though only after I¡¯d exhausted other options. It was an even more dangerous option than tearing the walls of this corridor apart with my Metzus and risking the whole fort collapsing on top of me.


    I finished wrangling my hair, looked up at the Creeping-vines obstacle, and then let my eyes drift away from him, towards the spot on the wall he had touched to activate the containment field. ¡°This trap of yours will not hold me,¡± I informed him of this simple truth. No emotion. No inflection. Not a hint of humanity in my voice, and I delighted in his horrified reaction.


    Slightly behind and to the right of me, my Remorseful-morsel pet had been taking trembling, terrified steps away from me. Now he drew his blade and rushed the occupied Spring-chicken.


    His target skittered back, and my Honey-blood snack only barely managed to stop her companion from jumping through the Tonaltus field and giving chase. ¡°Piers, Honeybee, don¡¯t. Valentina¡¯s not going to hurt us. And you should not be fooled by Junicia¡¯s naivety. It¡¯s an act. She¡¯s trying to lure us away from Valentina, separate us. They both are.¡±


    The slight waver in her voice betrayed her uncertainty, but at least it seemed like my two pet snacks would not flee if I let them be. Interesting to know that part of the mouse-prey¡¯s innocent demeanor was an act as well.


    My Creeping-vines prey looked roughly at where I was staring at, apparently lost in thought. It was a terribly unconvincing act that did little to hide his fear. Then he shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re not really adopted, are you? That¡¯s merely some falsified paperwork. Your dad smuggled you here from Ostea.¡±


    Even terrified for his life, he still tried to interrogate me. Adorable. He didn¡¯t even know he was looking right where I wanted him to look. Every Tonaltus field was a circle of runestones. All of them needed to first be pre-charged, and then activated one by one. The charging was slow work, so he must have done it in advance. My two pet Inquisitors seemed unaware he had prepared this here, so he had probably carved the runes and charged them when no one was around, ready to be activated when needed.


    If I assumed right, then all I needed to do was locate one of the rune-carved stones and damage the runework. He¡¯d activated the last rune right in front of me. I hadn¡¯t been paying close attention then, so I only had a vague idea of where it was. But he did know, and me hinting in that direction had him looking right at it.


    ¡°You remained in Birnstead for months. What were you doing there?'''' He continued his interrogation. His questions were inane, utterly pointless even. Did he truly think engaging me delayed the inevitable in any way? If anything, they bought me time while I studied his trap.


    ¡°Cooking, helping out with the kid, aiding the loggers, taught some magic fundamentals.¡± I turned around, summing up every useless thing I had done in that village while I studied Spring-chicken, who was still too busy wrestling with the contraption to participate in the interrogation. Some distracting glares from me might slow her down a little.


    ¡°Why Birnstead specifically? Why stay instead of roaming like you did before?¡±


    Unnerving my Spring-chicken snack wasn¡¯t my real intent though. My two pets, busy whispering hushed strategies at each other, were now in my line of sight. I needed something to damage those runes and disrupt the field, and my claws would not do. The carved stone itself was inside the field so I would not be able to reach it. And while I had foolishly left my blade behind, these two still had theirs.


    ¡°Helped them out during the winter flooding. Liked it there.¡± I kept spewing inane answers in a monotone drone as I stalked up to my two pets, hesitated for a moment, and then amended my answer. ¡°An ahuizotl nest was there when I returned in summer. Did my job as a hunter. Reported to the Inquisition patrol in Rivenston and offered my help. They refused. Inquisitor Lowe, I think. Did you question him about me?¡±


    Escaping this trap was trivial, barely worth my attention. I might just as well push this sham interrogation towards subjects that might have the Creeping-vines prey share more than he intended.


    ¡°Ravyn Falls. Early spring. You reported an incursion at the Little Brook monastery.¡±


    As expected, the second I asked a question of my own, his questioning sped up. Clearly, I had touched on a subject he did not want to talk about. The pattern of his questions was strange as well. He was skipping past all of the subjects he had asked about when I had been in my cell. There were no more probing about my plans, my allies, my schemes. None at all.


    I wrapped an arm around Elderberry-poison Irina¡¯s waist, interrupting a probably riveting argument about trapped runes and ballistics. I clung to her side and pouted up at a petrified Remorseful-morsel Piers. ¡°You¡¯re not going to abandon me now, are you Piers?¡± I let a fanged grin split my lips apart. ¡°Freezing in terror won¡¯t make me stop noticing you, you know,¡± I teased. ¡°Truly, I never understood why prey like you ever developed that kind of defense response. It really doesn¡¯t work.¡±


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    The morsel darted back, and so I squeezed Irina a little tighter and jammed my elbow into her hip to at least keep her in place. And to keep me in place. Him darting back was almost too much. I could eat them, but I needed them for more than just food, but oh¡­


    I could eat them!


    But at the same time, I needed them alive. With the cold iron of Irina¡¯s scabbard pressing into my sides, I trailed a claw up her sheathed blade and tapped the strap clasping the hilt. It was a subtle gesture, hidden from Creeping-vines-blood¡¯s sight by my body, and the mousy snack¡¯s sight by Irina¡¯s. I hoped this was enough of a hint that I needed to borrow the sword.


    I let go of Irina and turned back to my captor. ¡°Supply delivery to the monastery.¡± I shook my head in a show of theatrics. ¡°Two other hunter kids were in Ravyn Falls for an extermination request. We traded jobs, safer for them, no monastery for me. They did not return. Looked into it. Ash hounds. Petitioned for Inquisition support. I¡¯m certain you have a report of what happened after. Or did you not ask those Inquisitors about me either?¡±


    Repeating that suggestion was worth a try, even if he probably wouldn¡¯t look into it. And if he did, then he would dismiss what he learned. If I couldn¡¯t comprehend all those disgustingly compassionate and human things that little monster hunter me had done, then he most certainly wouldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I snarled in mock anger and pasted a feral grin on my face. ¡°We are done playing this game where you ask me subtle variations of the same question.¡±


    He darted back, startled by my sudden outburst of anger after I had remained passive for several of his questions. Just a short exchange was enough to convince him I had shelved all emotion and returned to my natural, predatory state. He¡¯d extrapolated from there. They always extrapolated. He had taken my inhuman calmness for fact, and so he wasn¡¯t even prepared anymore for such an excessively emotional, if acted-out, response. Oh, toying with these little snacks was so incredibly fun.


    Stepping up to him, capitalizing on this crack in his stoic demeanor, I tilted my head to the side and measured on an expression of cute innocence. ¡°You¡¯re not even allowed to ask the questions you want to ask, aren¡¯t you? Your superiors have forbidden you.¡±


    It was only a wild guess, but the anger and confusion suffusing his scent told me I probably wasn¡¯t far off the mark. That was good, because his reinforcements weren¡¯t far off either. I could faintly hear the din of them grouping up, ready to storm the dungeon. Or seal the exits. I was out of time.


    Maybe the Creeping-vines predator could hear them too, because suddenly his voice dropped, sounding honest and vulnerable and pleading. ¡°Where are your thralls?¡±


    It was the kind of question he would have asked me before, yet subtly different anyway. That, more than anything, made me realize how close to the truth I¡¯d gotten. He really was asking different questions than when I was stuck in my pit. It could be because this was the first time I was not a feral mess. I was lucid and coherent and he exploited that opening without hesitation. But wasn¡¯t my lucidity at the heart of this, was it? There were factions in the Inquisition, things he couldn¡¯t say or do with Irina present, new questions he could ask now that no one else was observing as he interrogated me.


    Politics.


    I raised my brows, looked up at him, and let out a fake, exasperated sigh. ¡°Who is this Retivius?¡±


    It finally made sense. The little exchange this man had had with Irina and Piers, I had ignored it in my anger, but now I could finally place it. My recollections from my time in captivity weren¡¯t coherent, more instinct and impressions than actual memories. But given enough hints I could still salvage parts of my memory.


    ¡°Right. Right. Sorry. No talking about Retivius.¡±


    ¡°Twenty-five years since your dad managed to return from Ostea. I wonder, child, do you know the significance of that?¡±


    ¡°Do try and keep her alive. I am certain we can use her once you are done.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t put a face or name to those words. But the taint of Velvet-chains mischief associated with the memory made me assume it was probably one of those nobility types they¡¯d shown me off to. That his statements were followed by Creeping-vines¡¯ righteous fury, barely restrained behind propriety, remained lodged in my mind as well. The unknown Velvet-chains had deliberately spoken about secrets in my presence. And my Creeping-vines tormentor had been powerless to stop him at the time.


    Hearing me ask about this mysterious Retivius, my Creeping-vines prey lifted his chin and studied me in silence. As still as his posture, so confused were his emotions. He could not hide it from me. Retivius. It was important, that name. I was not supposed to know it. Most curious of all, was that the Creeping-vines blood had reminded me of Retivius himself, by insinuating that Irina was working with or for this person.


    I flipped towards Irina and repeated my question. ¡°Who is Retivius, Irina?¡±


    She boldly stepped up to me. ¡°This isn¡¯t the time, Valentina.¡±


    Clever woman.


    I pushed myself right up to her, and stared up into her face in a way I couldn¡¯t replicate with Inquisitor Sung because of the Tonaltus field. The space between our two bodies once again hidden from sight I reached from the blade that she held out to me.


    ¡°Maybe you should tell me a bit more about a certain Hadrian person first, Miss Bryce?¡± Creeping-vines Sung asked. ¡°He looks like a very interesting character to me.¡±


    His honey-lathered question replaced the roiling anger within me with cold, hard, dread.


    No! No no no! Not Uncle Hadrian.


    They can¡¯t have him.


    They can¡¯t!


    ¡°You better pray those runes ain¡¯t trapped, Sweets,¡± Irina mouthed at me.


    ¡°She¡¯s priming the ballistics!¡± Piers shouted, denying me the time to think about Uncle Hadrian, or what a trapped rune was supposed to be. The Spring-chicken had stopped fiddling with straps and had begun activating runes. We had to go. Now.


    I pulled Irina¡¯s blade from its scabbard, activated the enchantments, and dashed toward the edge of the Tonaltus field. The tip of the blade sliced through the runes on one of the stones holding up the field.


    In the breath I waited for the magic to collapse, Irina and Piers rushed past me.


    Inquisitor Sung ducked and ran.


    With a tiny hum from the contraption the mousy Inquisitor had donned as my only warning, I dove for the other side of the corridor, through the still-collapsing containment field.


    A gray blur of a rock whizzed past me, and the Tonaltus woven around the stone tore me apart in a spray of flesh and bone and tendon. Then the little stone cratered into the dungeon wall and the corridor ahead of me exploded in a blast of stone and dust.

 2.10 — Those Dead and Dying

    I clung to the ground, clawing to get away from the residual Tonaltus that still hung thick in the air before it unmade me entirely. Even passing by me with more than a foot to spare, that little stone charged with Tonaltus had nearly ripped all of me to shreds. The side of my face was little more than blood on skull. The entire left side of my body had been reduced to nothing but agony on bone.


    Lacing my Metzus through my bones, I animated my vessel with sheer force of magic where muscle and tendon and nerves had been whisked away. At any other time, I could have probably considered it a clever way to keep my body going. Not then. I was nothing but raw, primal survival instinct and unfettered hunger screaming for desperate safety.


    What saved me was not intelligence on my part, but simply that no second shot followed. The cloud of debris was so dense that sand and rock were the only things left. The blood on my tongue had the dry, gritty texture of dust. The air hung thick with the salty taste of pulverized rock. Ashen smoke obscured all sight, damped all sound, and hid me completely from view.


    I scrambled along blind, even scent and taste failing me, until I was past the worst of the dust cloud. An empty corridor awaited me. The stairs out of the dungeon were a little further to the right. It was an exit. I clawed, crawled, clambered for the doorway. Freedom. Safety. Escape.


    Swaying on unsteady legs, I dove for the staircase.


    A blade sliced the air, sharp-edged steel flashing towards my head. I ducked away at the same time the attack was held in. The sword¡¯s hastily altered trajectory sailed over my head while I rolled hard and uncomfortable on the first steps of the stairs.


    Snarling and hissing, I clawed myself back to my feet. No time to think about how the sharp stone edges of the steps had further mushed my wounded side to a pulp. Brandishing Irina¡¯s Inquisitor blade, I launched myself at the prey that had dared to attack me. I leaped for the unexpectedly relieved snack, this surprised Sorrow-blood meal that was¡­ mine?


    It wasn¡¯t an attack. He¡¯d been covering our retreat, waiting for me. Twisting my leap into a shove, I worked my pet up the stairs. ¡°Go! Run!¡± I growled. The noises burbling out of my throat sounded more a thing of the blood pooling in my mouth and drifting past my lips than actual words.


    With a fresh heaping of terror and a surprising amount of efficient obedience, my snack dashed up the stairs, two, three, four steps at a time.


    I spiraled up the tower right after him. I could hardly believe it. Despite his well-founded fear and hatred and his often-voiced desire to leave me behind, the Sorrow-blood had been the one that had waited for me. My two pet Inquisitors had covered my back when I got my dad out. They had stood by me in a trap that had never been a hindrance for them. Unlike me, they had probably known how deadly the Spring-chicken Inquisitor¡¯s weapon had been all along.


    This was wrong. They were mere disposable tools to aid in my escape. Assets I could exploit or discard. Mere prey. Insignificant. They weren¡¯t supposed to care for me. I shouldn¡¯t be claiming them, and definitely not the despicably worthless Sorrow-blood.


    ¡°Irina?¡± I snarled up at my Sorrow-snack, because that fearless woman¡¯s absence was suspicious.


    He wheezed out something unintelligible between panting breaths, but he didn¡¯t taste any more worried, and his gaze shifted further ahead.


    Not killed in the blast, then. The crafty Elderwood-poison blood was probably already securing our escape. That was good. I needed her alive. She still owed me an explanation on this Retivius person, and why the hell he was so important.


    The Sorrow-blood and I burst out onto the battlement. Wildly looking around, we tried to orient ourselves. There was no prey up here so far. Down in the courtyard though, fully armored snacks were spilling out of buildings and lining up like a buffet. Crossbows, swords, shields, and all manner of exotic weaponry was being dealt out. The first contingent of meals was already heading for the stairs that led from the courtyard to our position. Together with the two Inquisitors almost certainly still on our tail, it meant we would be overrun in seconds.


    My Sorrow-blood squinted into the dark, his weak eyes struggling to adapt to a pitch-black night with even the moon and stars obscured by clouds. I directed my pet to the left, where ropes were secured around the merlons and Honey-blood Irina was preparing to rappel down the side of the fort, gave him a gentle shove so he would keep running, and raced after him.


    Irina was alone. There was no trace of my dad or the three Inquisitors who had been protecting him. ¡°Dad?¡± I hissed at her.


    While I waited for her answer, I pushed my injured left side to regrow faster. The arm was still numb and mostly useless. It was a dangerous thing I did, forcing my body to heal. I was spent, starving, and could feel my rationality slipping with every inch of flesh that knitted back together.


    The Elderberry-poison¡¯s reply drifted past me, words failing to register, but she briefly gestured over the wall with her head, and that was enough confirmation. Her companions and my dad were already safely out. She gestured towards Piers next, pulling him closer, intending to allow him to go first.


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    ¡°No!¡± I growled, pushed Piers back, and forced her over the crenelations. She had already secured herself. Her going down first would be faster.


    A crossbow bolt sailed past me. I moved to the side, glancing in the direction it had come from. A single terrified inquisitor snack, weapon nearly trembling out of his hands, stood at the top of the stairs. Behind the coward who had wasted his shot, an entire squad of Inquisitors lined up their crossbows. From the other direction, panting footfalls and the telltale hum of the giant death rig ascended the stairs we had come from. Sung, the Spring-chicken, and instant death.


    I dove, creating even more distance between me and Piers, who was busy crawling over the edge. A volley of bolts whizzed past me, missing me by a hair.


    The Spring-chicken¡¯s fringe of hair crested the top of the stairs. I scrambled to my feet and rushed at the squad of reloading crossbowmen, hoping she wouldn¡¯t dare fire that nightmare weapon in the direction of her own people.


    An explosion of rock from behind me threw me off my feet. While I rolled to a stop, shrapnel and debris rained down around me, but it was the blood-curdling scream that had my attention snap to my Sorrow-blood. Two of the crenelations right next to him were simply gone. Blood and rock were everywhere. His shoulder closest to the blast was nothing but exposed bone and tendon. One feeble hand desperately grasped for the ropes.


    With a lurch, his body slipped over the edge.


    I threw my blade at the crossbow squad, not caring who or what or even if I¡¯d be able to hit someone. Swords weren¡¯t balanced for throwing. A single moment of confusion was all I could hope for. I launched myself at the edge, reached over the remains of the crenelations, and hooked my claws into Piers¡¯ armor before he could fall out of reach. Even with one of his arms blown clear off, his massive bulk threatened to drag me down with him, so I let go again and pulled the dagger from the bandolier around his chest.


    The Sorrow-blood screamed even more, as his pain-addled mind grappled with how I had appeared to save him and then doom him once more. I heard him slide down and struggle with the rope, but had no more time to waste on my pet.


    The Creeping-vines predator had burst out of the tower as well. He circled left, closing in and cutting off that avenue of escape. The Spring-chicken had loaded another rock and was priming another shot.


    Without even testing the balance of the dagger, I threw it at the Spring-chicken and launched myself over the wall. My injured left hand trailed the rope as I looped an elbow around it, keeping the rope close to me as I soared toward the ground.


    Mid-fall I crashed into my Sorrow-blood pet. I hooked my good arm under his elbow, pulling him down with me. My eyes pierced the darkness, sought the ground, judged the distance, and when I thought us lethally close I coiled my badly-healed left arm tightly around the rope.


    I was inhumanly strong, especially at night, but in the end my vessel still followed a human template. The rope tore into my arm, shredding barely regrown flesh and muscle and tendon alike. My shoulder burst apart once more under the sudden weight of two adults in freefall.


    The ground was there. The much taller meal I was holding hit it first,  screaming as he crumpled under me. Then he stopped screaming entirely.


    With a jolt, my feet hit the ground right after. I rolled off of the meat, squirmed under it, pushed it onto my back, struggled upright, and stumbled after Elder-poison Irina. I tried to run, but the Sorrow-snack was heavy. So damned heavy. And no matter how strong I was, he was still a massive dead weight on my back that completely destroyed my balance.


    Still, I slipped in between large boulders, past bushes, and down ledges at a dangerous pace. Several times my legs buckled beneath me as I struggled with the load I was carrying. It would be so much easier if I could just drop him, but after this, I needed something large and healthy to snack on and I wasn¡¯t letting go of my prey.


    My left arm hung limp. It was trailing blood and meat and rope. More of my meager flesh sloughed off it with every tiring step. The need to feed was overwhelming. Primal terror was the only thing stopping me from sinking my fangs into the slab of Sorrow-blood meat hefted onto my back.


    Crossbow bolts whizzed through the air. Ballistic projectiles from the murder-weapon rocked the earth, thankfully far enough off the mark in this pitch-dark night.


    I caught up to the Elder-poison pet, bathing in her own runelight enchantments like the stupid-blind prey she was. I snarled at her to douse the light. Pushed past her without pausing.


    Something slammed into my meat shield and pierced it all the way through. The unexpected force had me stumbling forward. I rolled, plucked the food up once more, and kept running.


    The Honey-blood realized the threat her light posed. She doused the enchantment, and then she was at my mercy. It was too dark for her. If she lost sight of me for even a moment, or fell too far behind, she would be lost.


    Then, mercifully, we were finally in between the trees. The barrage of projectiles trailing after us stopped. No one streamed out of the fort to chase us. No Inquisitors were stupid enough to follow a vampire into a dark forest at night. I listened anyway. Nothing but the breathing and the singular heartbeat of the meal with me. Just her and me. We were out. As long as we kept moving we were safe.


    The female lit her light again, shambling forward on shaky legs, deeper into the forest because the edge of it was nowhere near safe enough.


    I struggled after her.


    Singular¡­ heartbeat?


    Only one.


    I dropped the sack of meat. Dead flesh hit the cold forest floor with a dry thump.


    My Honey-blood meal turned. Stared. With a panicked gasp, she rushed for the corpse I had dropped. Screaming, she pushed me aside. Spewing incoherent rage-filled shouts at me, she reached for the body, touched it, shook it.


    Weeping, she lifted the dead human¡¯s head. Whimpering, she trailed fingers over unseeing eyes. Silent, she crumpled on top of my feast.


    Snarling, I dragged her off.


    My food!


    Mine!


    She clung to me, growling like a rabid animal, clawing with uselessly weak fingers.


    Need alive!


    I growled, snapped at her, threw her, and lunged for my food. I peeled apart the Sorrow-blood¡¯s inedible shell. Exposed the tender flesh.


    Just one bite.


    Only one!


    She came at me again.


    I hissed, a final, cold, warning.


    She crumpled to the ground, wailing, weeping, begging me to feed on her as well.


    I couldn¡¯t.


    Needed her.


    Couldn¡¯t. Couldn¡¯t. Couldn¡¯t.


    Feed!

 2.11 — For the Reckoning

    The horse bucked, kicked, and jumped. When that didn¡¯t dislodge me, it reared up, lurched forward, and slammed me sidelong into a tree.


    I held on, my fangs sinking deeper into the animal¡¯s neck the more it struggled. Even flung like a ragdoll, I would not let go of my food. I¡¯d restrained my hunger for too long.


    The prey fell to its knees. Frothing in a mad fright, it neighed, then struggled back up again to continue trashing.


    With my one good arm, I pulled on its mane and clawed at its eyes.


    My meal tripped and fell once more. It tried one final time to right itself, meeting the ground instead, the short-lived surge of energy its fear had given it no longer compensating for the loss of blood. An agitated swish of its tail, a weak kick of a leg, a shake of its mane, and a slow, forlorn nicker.


    A final breath.


    Nothing.


    Death.


    The hunt was over. I won. Still, I did not stop drinking. Without a beating heart to pump the blood into my mouth, I had to suck it out. I gladly did. I never thought I could consume so much. I must have been parched, starved beyond comprehension.


    Eventually, I stopped. Even my thirst, my hunger, had its limits. I laid on my back, next to my vanquished prey, and took a moment to just...


    Think.


    It was a miraculous thing, having my thoughts be fully, entirely unclouded. Such clarity of thought! Something so easily taken for granted. Especially when my mind had been this... this haze, this jumble of scents and sounds and sensations stretching from the here and now all the way back to...


    to Birnstead?


    No, not to Birnstead. There had been more fleeting moments of clarity. In the most recent one I had also laid on my back ¡ª on cold stone instead of dirt ¡ª finally free from the crushing pressure of Tonaltus.


    Free!


    Free from the pit and the dark and little Arrin¡ª


    I shied away from the thought. I was free now, and that was all that mattered. Even if a lot of the intervening time was a confused blur, I was still free from that horrid place.


    Where even am I?


    I turned my head and let my gaze drift. Trees, dark and twisted, loomed high into the sky. Naked branches clawed at a cloud-covered night. A soft breeze fought for purchase but managed little more than an occasional creak of wood, and the quiet rustle of a dried-out leaf flitting slowly towards the ground.


    A light coating of moss and rotting leaves, moist with decay and sharply speckled with rime, patterned the forest floor. The loamy taste tickled my nose just enough to ignore the hint of dead horse at the back of my throat.


    The blanket of clouds high up in the sky hid the moon and the stars, coloring the night in an utter oblivion visible only in shades of dark and darker.


    No birdsong broke through the silence. No scattering of midnight rodents. No chorus of insects. Only the wind was foolish enough to remain here where an apex predator had made such a brutal kill.


    Only the wind¡­ and the humans. Their wary, hushed murmurs drifted here from a distance away. They were silent until a moment ago. But now they spoke amongst themselves, desperate to fill the void of silence they so feared, convinced they could be quiet enough that I would not hear.


    But I did hear. Utter silence meant their words carried far. Even when they did not speak, their breathing betrayed their presence. Them and their horses. Them and my D¡ª


    I shied away from that thought as well. I turned my head, still tasting the grass and leaves and dirt on my tongue. I swallowed, my mouth closed, yet the foul taste persevered. Those lone blades of grass kept tickling at the inside of my jaw.


    I twisted my tongue in my mouth, pushing against the grass stuck there.  I found teeth, my cheek itself, the taste of my own blood intermingled with that of the horse, then a gaping hole. My tongue went straight through the side of my face and found the ground.


    A distant, muted sensation of pain tingled at the left side of my face as dirt and leaves were squished into a festering, open wound. And now that I was aware of it, the distant sting grew into a slight burn, harder and harder to ignore.


    Urgently, I sat up. Pain surged down my left shoulder and arm, the limb exploding into so many new kinds of agony now that I foolishly put weight on it. I swallowed, once, twice, thrice to get the pain under control.


    I looked.


    Hissing in fright I screwed my eyes shut and turned away. That one glance showed enough and more. Most of the arm was gone, twisted and pulled apart into strips of bloody flesh marred with deep burns, held together only by the rope digging deep inside, coiling through meat and around the bone underneath.


    Worst of all, that gruesome sight made me wonder about the searing pain that was wracking my face, how it might be just as bad as my arm. Mentally counting to three for courage, and then to five because three wasn¡¯t enough, I brought my one functioning hand up to my face and gave it the gentlest, most fragmentary of prod.


    I flinched back because even with these delicate pokes of a claw, I could tell. The entire left side of my face was a blubbery mess, pockmarked with fleshy welts and cratered with burned-through holes. If I angled a finger or two just right, I could shove them straight through the hole in my cheek and touch my tongue.


    I gathered my resolve. I am a vampire and I have suffered worse injuries than these. I have endured so many broken bones, so many rending, debilitating wounds. I had my skull caved in, had my brain leak out through my ears, and once was even foolish enough to stand in the sun unprotected. I could deal with these injuries too.


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    It would work out as long as I did not think too hard about how, for the very worst of my previous injuries, I had healed most of them while I was so feral and incoherent that I did not remember much of it. Now, I¡¯d have to do it while perfectly lucid.


    I put a hand to my face, palm and fingers and all. Cold. Calculating. Cataloging. Left ear gone. Eyes, nose, and most of the forehead intact or already regrown. Hair mostly gone, and what few strands remained melded with the knitting, regrowing flesh.


    It¡¯s fine.


    Done this before, not so long ago, right after I crawled out of that pit.


    And let''s not think about how my coherent thoughts shattered soon after.


    Gods, that man¡¯s arm¡­ did I really¡­ No, don¡¯t think about it.


    I hooked my claws into my skull, peeled at the worst of the regrown mess, and pried strands of black hair out from in between skin, occasionally pulling entire flaps of rotten flesh with it.


    Moving on to the arm, I was reminded of the thick and sturdy rope, tangled around bones and woven together with partially regrown muscle. I could heal anything, broken spine, caved in skull, even a mushed brain, but not when there was so much foreign mass in the way.


    I hissed in pain as I prodded my claws in between the strips of flesh and bone, trying to get at the rope.


    Would probably be easier if...


    Right. It would. I set my jaw and grabbed hold of the protruding bits of bone. My claws dug in deep, deep, deep! I exhaled, expelling all air from my lungs so that I could do the next bit silently. Without screaming my heart out.


    Grip. Twist. Rotate as far as the joint will go. Then further. The other way. Again. Pull!


    A bone-deep crack.


    I screamed a silent snarl of pain. Then I held my own arm, torn off at the shoulder.


    I could heal anything, but this was too much even for me. It was such a gruesome sight I almost wanted to puke. Yet I kept watching in morbid fascination as fresh bone protruded out of my elbow and flesh and sinew formed around it.


    Never letting this happen again.


    While I watched my arm and shoulder knit itself back together, I shifted through the jumble that was my memories. Things had happened after I had been freed. Secrets kept from me. A trap. Captured again. A threat to my Uncle. Clouds and clouds of dust and debris. A horrid fall. A scramble. Food I could not eat. And then¡ª


    Did I really just bring down a horse with only my fangs?


    The dead animal was right there, so I must have. I crawled to my feet to stand next to it, to get a good measure for its size. It was big and sturdy, well proportioned too, a courser at the least. The insanely expensive warhorse dwarfed my lithe ten-year-old-little-girl frame. I had most likely brought down a horse that cost twice as much as I had earned in an entire year as a hunter.


    Haaah, such a distant, futile life that was.


    I tried to put a measure on the time of year, but even basic things like the concept of how long I was imprisoned seemed to elude me. Simply getting some of the experiences in order was a daunting impossibility. This could be weeks after my capture. Or months. There was a distinct chill in the midnight air, a biting, freezing coldness. That, the lack of leaves on the trees, and the rime told me it was likely more than a month. I had been captured in early fall and this felt like early winter.


    Or an especially mild midwinter.


    Or late winter, early spring.


    I settled for just winter for now. Winter, and I was naked. Caked in blood and gore and ¡ª I sniffed ¡ª excretion?


    Yuck!


    Underneath all the grime I was naked. The wintery temperature did not bother me, I could feel it, but it did not hinder. Some amount of human sensibility, a weird sense of modesty roused itself from deep within me.


    I smothered it. I needed clothes, yes. I needed them like I needed a river or a body of water to wash in. Not because of modesty but because anyone sensible would have a hard time tolerating my presence in my current state.


    Later.


    Yes, later. Distractions like that could wait until I had a better handle on my situation. I had been captured and I had escaped. Part escaped, part had help escaping. Five Inquisitors had helped me get out. Their reasons for that were a mystery. They needed interrogating. I should do that. Soon. Now. Before the one of them that was in charge reclaimed her wits and decided remaining this close to a feral vampire was unwise.


    Combing a blood-caked tangle of hair out of my eyes, I tasted the air, figured out the proper direction, and set out. The humans were further away than I expected, and upwind. At least that was one good, rational decision I had made in my feral state. They had their own horses with them. Had I taken down my own horse closer to theirs, where their animals could hear or smell the struggle, they would almost certainly have panicked, warhorses or not.


    Reaching for my amulet, I slowed my step, thinking. Even half feral, I had made certain not to lose it again. Yet despite the sun protection it offered, I would still have to hurry. It was well past midnight, probably. And while the amulet meant I wouldn¡¯t burn in the sun, it would still be a miserable time. The Inquisition would never pursue me at night, but they would make up for that as soon as dawn came.


    Yet despite the need for haste, my steps slowed further. I would have to face them. Irina, who had seen Piers die right in front of her. Irina, who had seen me try to eat the man. Irina¡¯s companions, who had seen our mad dash from the fortress, who had rushed towards our position, and who had witnessed everything. And worst of all¡­


    I swallowed. Thoughts for later. No matter how soon that later would be.


    None of these people should matter. What they thought of me should not matter. Sentimentality should not matter. They were merely tools I used in the pursuit of my freedom. Human concepts, relationships, friendship, family, they were only the things that had gotten me captured in the first place. They should not matter.


    And yet¡­


    When the murmur of hushed whispers grew into distinct voices I slowed my pace even more, stalking closer as soundless as I was able. It might be educational if I could catch some of their conversation on my approach.


    ¡°I truly don¡¯t think it¡¯s coming back, Irina,¡± a low, whining male voice complained, young enough to be barely past the cusp of adulthood. This was the annoyingly tender, baby-faced male. Canth?


    ¡°She¡¯ll be back. I don¡¯t think she¡¯s just going to let us go like this.¡± The female. Irina. Even burning with hatred she sounded resolute and in control.


    ¡°But what if it kills us? Isn¡¯t it better to just leave it behind?¡± One of the other two Inquisitors.


    ¡°You want to run?¡± Irina scoffed, defiant even in the face of bleakness. ¡°From a vampire? You haven¡¯t seen her fight, have you? You¡¯d have better luck outrunning the dawn.¡±


    Having heard enough I made the appropriate approaching sounds so as not to unduly startle them, and then stepped out from between the trees.


    Four Inquisitors peered in my general direction, only barely able to make out my form in the dark. They feared. They had all seen too much of me. They had hoped to free a kind vampire. But there at the end, when it had been me and Irina and Piers¡¯ corpse, when the others had come running, they had seen the undeniable truth.


    I¡­ fed on Piers.


    Until then I hadn¡¯t known, I hadn¡¯t been certain. Feral recollection too vague. I¡¯d still had doubts. Maybe I had been able to hold back at the very last second. Maybe they had given me the horse before I had lost all control. But the way they held themselves, perfectly prey-like, teetering on the edge between panic and despair, told me all I needed to know.


    And worst of all, was the fifth person that hid behind the four Inquisitors, the one most horrified of all of them. I tried to catch his eyes, this man whose comfort I needed most, but he shied away.


    He shied away, as I had shied away from simply thinking about him time and time again. And I knew then, from how he feared me now, so much more raw than ever before. I knew, from the cold dread clawing at me from deep inside.


    What I had done, right in front of his very eyes, was not something I could ever explain away. Not to him. My days of pretending to be a harmless little thing were over. Maybe I could still fool other people. But I would never again fool him. Never again fool myself.


    Here. Tonight. I had freed my dad.


    And then I had lost him.


    He¡¯d been right about me all along.

 2.12 — No Less Human

    We trudged through the woods: five people on horseback and one vampire to lead them. There was a trail, sort of. It was disused, hard to notice, harder still to follow without accidentally going off-track. Some trampled grass here. Slightly more packed earth than usual over there. Those were the only signs.


    The state of the trail was why I had replaced Irina as the person to lead everyone else. The trees were all alike, and the clouds still shrouded the world in oppressive darkness. If you closed your eyes for even a second, stopped paying attention for even a moment, then you were likely to get turned around. Only my superior senses kept us from ending up hopelessly lost.


    I did not want to lead. Angry silence followed after me, most of it Irina¡¯s. Trailing after her, the three other Inquisitors. My dad, last of all. I would much rather have been back there with him, but he would not let me.


    We hadn¡¯t spoken. Not one word. Occasionally, I felt his attention, him trying to distinguish my shape throughout all of this darkness, but every time I glanced his way he shied away. Every time I called out to him, he flinched. When I had been forced to take the lead, he had moved to the back of the line, as far away from me as he could get.


    I attempted one more hope-torn glance at him.


    He urged his horse on until it pressed close to the one before it. The part of me I could no longer deny identified it as a subconscious attempt to remain close to the safety of the pack. Even when it was so dark he could barely tell where I was, he still recognized that a predator was tracking him.


    Predator.


    Me.


    My dad¡¯s horse bristled, an angry shaking of the head that tested the control of its rider. These horses were all full-blooded coursers, just like the horse I had eaten. They weren¡¯t tame and lame animals that never acted out. These horses required their riders to be firm, to lead.


    I did not want my dad to ride that close to the other horse, because he wasn¡¯t a good enough rider for it. I wanted him closer to me, because he was the weakest of the pack and shouldn¡¯t be on the outside of it. I wanted him closest of all, because he is my dad and I wanted to protect him and he¡­  him fearing me like this was worse than the weeks I had spent in that nightmare hole.


    In startling contradiction, I wanted him far away because I was not safe to be around. I wanted him further still because then he would be isolated from the pack. I wanted him furthest of all because the only reason he was in this predicament was my own foolish idiocy.


    My fault.


    If only I had stayed home. If only I had listened to him, then none of this would have happened. We would have still been a happy family. He, alive. Me, trapped, caged by the four suffocating walls of a too-small home, a predator snapping and snarling at the unfairness of her prison, longing for the wild and free.


    Predator.


    Me.


    Again.


    I flexed my claws and balled my hands into fists so tight that talon pierced flesh. A painful and bloody reminder of my true nature. It was so easy to care, to feel, to fall into that same trap all over again. These fake emotions, I had cultivated them to the point where this anguish felt too real. So I had to keep reminding myself. Over and over.


    Cunning monster.


    Not a distraught little girl.


    We weren¡¯t safe yet. Not by far. Until we were, the ruthless predator that had broken out of my pasty shell of pretend-humanity had to stay out. Maybe I would never lock it away again. And maybe I should stop wallowing in self-pity and start getting answers.


    ¡°Irina?¡± I tried to keep my tone gentle as I cast a quick look behind me.


    The furious Inquisitor worked her jaw and continued staring ahead, over me, past me, into the darkness. She worked the reins in a way that gave her horse no direction but still presented the illusion of being too occupied to answer me.


    She had been like that for the quarter of a bell or so we had been walking, ignoring every attempt I made to talk to her. I could feel her holding back, keeping in the anger and the grief that wanted to come pouring out again. At least this time, she did not shoot me a murderous glare. Hopefully, it meant I finally had a chance to hear her out.


    ¡°Why¡­¡± I tried, ever so gently, allowing for a short silence after that first hint of question to gauge her reaction. ¡°Why was I captured instead of killed?¡±


    Despite trying to be quiet, my whispers still sounded too loud in this continued tense silence, too offensive, too grating.


    The leather of Irina¡¯s gloves creaked as she balled her fists even tighter. Twisting lips, widening eyes, flared nostrils, a grimace. A raft of emotions washed over her face in rapid succession. Fresh tears dampened her cheeks. With a quick swipe of a knuckle, she wiped them off. Fingers pinching her eyes closed, she turned to face me.


    Hollow eyes bored into me when she opened them again. ¡°You have no idea how terrifying you are, do you?¡±


    Anguish twisted my heart and I leaned to the side, looking past the train of horses at my dad. He, not seeing me but feeling my gaze all the same, quickly cast his eyes down to the ground.


    ¡°Reports about your interrogations are classified, but word spreads all the same,¡± Irina continued mirthlessly, ¡°You arrived, they gave you blood, and you spat it out.¡±


    I remembered that. Sort of. That was how I had woken up in that pit. The Creeping-vines predator''s little Spring-chicken assistant had been standing at the rim of the oubliette, pouring blood all over my face from all the way up there. Human blood. Disgusted, I had spat it out. Oh, how naive I had been, thinking I was above that. Injured as I was, trapped in that Tonaltus field, it hadn¡¯t lasted long at all. Soon after, I¡¯d ended up licking that blood off the floor.


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    ¡°They dangled your father over your pit, and you cried and begged and pleaded not to hurt him. Reports of Birnstead, an entire town and nothing but an enthralled pig.¡±


    Nothing but a pig. Only Aunt Reya¡¯s pig, the one she had suggested to me after I had denied her offer of chickens. She had incessantly pestered me with her proposal, every single time I came out of the forest with a meal of blood-drenched rabbits, until I finally, reluctantly, accepted.


    And even though it had disgusted me, doing that to the animal, feeding on it every handful of days, Irina was right. That single enthralled pig was all the Inquisition would have found in Birnstead. No corpses, no human thralls, no plots or schemes. A vampire, right under their noses, hidden for decades on end, without a single sinister plan that they could see. That would... it would terrify them. How many other vampires had they missed? How many people had been compromised? How many thralls positioned in vital places?


    None. Not a single person in Birnstead had been enthralled, yet all of them had let me live amongst them, knowing what I was. They would not understand. Even I could not understand. So much food and I had left all of it uneaten.


    What had the Inquisition done when they didn¡¯t find the answer they expected?


    Threaten? Torture?


    I cared for those people. I never wanted anything bad to happen to them. But I stayed all the same. Those villagers and I both judged the risk of my stay and considered it worth taking. We judged wrong.


    I had asked Sung if they had harmed the people of Birnstead. It had only been an impulse, fueled by my anger for Arrin. But the Spring-chicken assistant had reacted to that question. She had been so shocked, so surprised. So¡­ guilty?


    Oh no.


    Oh no, no, no.


    ¡°Your father, only just getting his bearings after we unchained him, terrified, trying to keep his distance, and you ignored it and sobbed all over his chest.¡± Irina¡¯s words tumbled over each other, each one louder than the next, anger and grief taking over. ¡°You. Killing! My Gods! Damned! Husband! Claiming him as food! Nothing but a feral sarding animal! And still, those sad little eyes of yours begging me to understand!¡±


    An arm wrapped around my shoulder. Twisted me around. Pulled me off my feet. Slammed me against a tree. An abandoned horse gave an indignant whinny. People were shouting in surprise. Irina was on top of me. She had me pinned against the trunk of the tree. Was snarling into my face.


    Foolishly challenging me!


    I hissed in response. Fangs bared. A low growl escaped my throat. A challenge met. The prey was forgetting its place. I would¡ª


    ¡°Tina!¡± Dad¡¯s shout slipped from angry straight to anxious. Then his sudden cry of alarm was drowned out by panicked screaming from his horse.


    Clawing my talons into Irina¡¯s armor, I dragged her out of the way, and dove under her arm at the same time. I reached for the reins of the horse that barreled through the spot she was standing in only a moment ago. As the animal bunched its muscles, ready to buck, I pulled down and back on the reins, forcing its nose towards me and then to the side, sending us both in a tight spiral dance.


    My dad flailed atop the horse, panicked ¡°whoas¡± escaping his mouth as the reins slipped out of his hands and he reached for them again in haste. As if by some miracle, he remained in the saddle, probably only saved by my quick reaction stopping the courser from rearing up.


    ¡°Dad?¡± I squeaked out as I slipped to the other side of the horse and repeated the gesture that prevented the animal from bucking and asserted my dominance.


    ¡°I¡¯m alright, Turnip,¡± Dad¡¯s breath came fast and ragged, clearly indicating he was anything but alright. ¡°I¡¯m alright.¡±


    His voice sounded so much like he was failing to convince himself that I looked up at him in concern. He had even used that nickname he knew I hated. I was right. He hadn¡¯t ridden in far too long. He had barely sat on a horse when he had taught me to ride three winters ago, and the time before that must have been before I was born. And now, weakened from imprisonment and malnutrition, he did not have this horse under control, and he was trying desperately not to show it.


    Feeling a frown settle on my face I patted his leg. ¡°Scoot back.¡±


    ¡°Tina?¡± His face twisted in worry and fear, and this time it wasn¡¯t from the horse.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get hurt, Dad.¡± I cast my gaze down because I could not stand to look at his reaction. It was a futile attempt to ignore his fright of me. The taste of it tickled my nose, and that only brought it into starker focus.


    ¡°Valentina¡­¡± he hesitated, clearly searching for an excuse, any excuse to not have a dangerous predator like me close to him, but not finding any. ¡°I have it under control.¡±


    ¡°Vale,¡± I corrected angrily. No longer waiting for him to grant me space, I heaved myself into the saddle right in front of him.


    When he shuffled further back, away from me, I snatched hold of his frigid gooseflesh arms and guided them around my middle. ¡°I know I smell rank, Dad, but that¡¯s no reason for you to risk falling off. I¡¯ll wash up at the first river we cross, alright?¡±


    I hated my excuse as soon as it had left my mouth. My words were perpetuating his lie, filling in for the excuses he failed to come up with. It wasn¡¯t the dirt and grime caking me that bothered him. It was the blood. It was that I had fed on Piers¡¯ corpse right in front of his eyes. It was that I snarled and snapped like a feral beast when Irina lunged at me.


    Gods, I was such a mess. I hadn¡¯t reacted this instinctively to a threat since¡­ since I had decided to become a hunter and Dad had taught me to fight. I was slipping. I was slipping so, so bad.


    And nothing confirmed that more than Dad¡¯s arms closing around my waist like he was wrapping them around a rabid bear about to snap his head straight off. Like I wasn¡¯t even his daughter anymore, but the vampire he should have killed when it was nothing but a harmless babe fresh from the womb.


    His reaction to my nearness was so visceral that I let go of his wrist. It made everything worse because that made him relax ever so slightly. Instinctively, I reached for his arms again. I couldn¡¯t lose him. I couldn¡¯t lose my dad. I wouldn¡¯t lose anyone ever again.


    His icy, too-fast breathing caressed the top of my head. His raging heartbeat hammered against my back. Underneath the flabby weakness of his skin, cold muscles stiffened. His arms trembled, and his whole body shivered with both a desire to pull back and the fear of the consequences if he did.


    Caressing the erect hairs of his arms, I cataloged the texture of his spotted, parchment skin to organize my thoughts. I couldn¡¯t not be distracted by it. His age. He was so old and frail now, and I couldn¡¯t think of when it had happened. Surely all of this aging can¡¯t have merely been the time he had spent in that cell. As far back as I remembered he had always been my dad, young and spry and deliciously tempting. Seeing him like this, as if he¡¯d gained twenty years since I had left him a year and a half ago was wrong.


    He was supposed to be my dad. He was supposed to see me grow up. Instead, I was seeing him grow old. I was only 24. Winter now. 25. Yet I looked like a ten-year-old kid. I wasn¡¯t ready to lose him.


    Futile thoughts. The nervous tension in his posture, the harried tempo of his breathing, the way he flinched at my merest touch. I had already lost him. All I could do was pretend that some of this distance between us had been steadily growing ever since I walked out on him two springs ago. That this wasn¡¯t merely a sudden change, caused by my own inhuman actions. That these two years away from home had simply caused us to drift apart. It was a far kinder delusion than the truth.


    Irina, having climbed back to her feet, dusted herself off as she walked past. ¡°You¡¯re so much like other vampires. And you¡¯re not. And you have no idea how bloody, sarding, terrifying you are,¡± she snarled at me as she got back on her horse.


    She was right. I have no idea. I thought I understood people¡¯s fear of what I was. But now, with my dad so close, with his terror and disgust wrapped so firmly around me, with the warmth of family further away than ever, I was beginning to see just how little I really knew.

 2.13 — An Ocean Apart

    ¡°Where are we heading?¡± With Dad no longer in danger of falling off the horse, I guided the animal into the lead position and forced both our escape and my interrogation of Irina back on track.


    I didn¡¯t expect Irina to reply. I had killed and eaten her husband. Not just another person in Irina¡¯s team of Inquisitors, but her husband. I remembered only vague impressions of the moment I had pulled Piers aside and forced her to go down first. That must have been where I had doomed the man, all because I had considered Irina a more valuable source of information.


    Given that Piers had died, it had been the right choice. Yet regardless of whether it was a good trade or not, I might need to be a little less impulsive with such calls. Casual decisions like that, with little regard for how they affected lives, only highlighted how these people were only assets to me, and how I did not think like them.


    Is that what Dad is to me?


    Nothing but a tool?


    He wasn¡¯t. I knew he wasn¡¯t. I could not accept that I had become that horribly inhumane. I had come so close to abandoning him though. A little more feral, and I might not have rescued him at all. Clearly, I wasn¡¯t the appropriate person to judge my own compassion and capacity to care.


    But if I¡¯m not qualified to judge myself, and Dad is¡­


    Irina¡¯s unexpected answer to my question, loud, angry, tinged with fresh bite, cut through my silent brooding. ¡°This path ends at an abandoned shack¡­ mill¡­ don¡¯t care. That¡¯s the rendezvous point.¡± Her bitter answer gained a relieved undertone. ¡°We are to bring you there. The other team brings the woman from the village. From there on, you are on your own.¡±


    Other team?


    Woman?


    I rolled my shoulders and tried to nestle deeper into Dad¡¯s shivery embrace. It didn¡¯t help. Irina¡¯s piercing gaze burned straight through my dad and into my back. Hopefully the hint of relief I noticed from her was merely her looking forward to being rid of me, and not some fresh horror. This night already felt like it would never end, and the list of unknowns I desired answers for kept on growing.


    ¡°What woman?¡± I started with what was hopefully the least strategic follow-up question. Better to provide her with a false sense of security, slowly work my way up to the important questions.


    ¡°Some woman from Birnstead. Tracked the Inquisitor team that captured you all the way here. Came demanding your release.¡± Irina snorted in fake amusement. ¡°Got picked up, interrogated over and over, then dumped in the nearest village. Instead of leaving well enough alone, she has stubbornly remained. Crazy bitch is just lucky she doesn¡¯t know anything.¡±


    Crazy bitch?


    Can¡¯t be¡­


    Aunt Reya. The village¡¯s medicine woman. It had to be. There was only one person in that entire town mad enough to chase after me, storm up to an Inquisitor fort, and demand the vampire they held be released. Gods, I still remembered that time when she¡¯d rushed after me into the forest, at dusk. Fully aware that I was a vampire. A close to starving vampire. She had chased after me anyway, armed with only a knife.


    Or the time she had stood up for me in front of Rafe, the man in charge of the town. Or that time she¡¯d literally picked me up like a sack of grain and carted me off to Meg and Gery¡¯s place. All the mornings she had snuck into the bunkhouse kitchen, intent on mooching breakfast off of Eryn. And succeeding at it.


    ¡°Tina?¡± my dad prompted. ¡°You know this woman?¡±


    ¡°Vale,¡± I corrected him as I shook my head.


    All the colorful sailor¡¯s swears Aunt Reya had accidentally let slip in my presence. And the days in the forest, me on her lap, talking and guiding her through the essentials of magic weaving over and over again. Persisting in the boring minutiae of magic lessons, long after Shae and Nebby had given up.


    Shae.


    Nebby.


    I sighed. No, I was being silly, letting myself be fooled by longing. It couldn¡¯t be her. She had a girlfriend. She had granny Madge to look after. She couldn¡¯t just up and leave all that behind. I squashed the impossible desire for an existence that was never really mine. And the anger that followed.


    No one I knew was mad enough to challenge the Inquisition for me. It was probably some random crazy person. Someone who had picked up a rumor about the capture of a vampire, and was now pretending to know me in a mad grab for fame. Simple, utter lunacy. I would deal with the nutcase at the rendezvous point, and then it would be me and my dad running for our lives.


    Hah. Running! As if I could ever come up with a proper plan for that. And then I wasn¡¯t even considering the Creeping-vines¡¯ threat of going after Uncle Hadrian, the potential risks to the people of Birnstead, or how my dad wouldn¡¯t be able to handle a life on the run. All things I could worry about later. My innocent question had succeeded. Now that Irina was ever so slightly distracted from her anger, it was time to aim for the biggest, most shocking question I could imagine.


    ¡°Who is this Retivius?¡± I asked, looking over my shoulder to better judge her reaction.


    Irina met my gaze. She stared at me for a long moment where she didn¡¯t even blink. ¡°I am under orders to keep you away from this topic,¡± she said at last. ¡°But sard! That! Shit! You just killed my husband!¡±


    Wait¡­ she¡¯s just going to tell me?


    Why?


    This made no sense. Anger directed towards me shouldn¡¯t have her simply decide to share secrets with me. Right? Not unless¡­


    Unless I wasn¡¯t the only one she was angry with. There was a mysterious employer who requested my escape. She had superiors that had ordered her to do this. If the request for my escape came from or through some shadowy faction of the Inquisition, then Irina probably couldn¡¯t refuse those orders. She didn¡¯t just blame me for Piers¡¯ death. She blamed her superiors. And divulging their precious secrets alleviated her anger.


    Or maybe this was yet another of Irina¡¯s many deceptions playing out.


    ¡°Irina, we shouldn¡¯t,¡± the man riding behind Irina cautioned.


    ¡°Shut it, Canth!¡± Irina growled. ¡°She¡¯s in this mess, same as we are, and we all know that keeping a vampire in check with half-truths doesn¡¯t work.¡± Irina¡¯s horse snorted as she pulled on her reins in anger. ¡°Lady Esmena Retivius is the Ostean Grand-Inquisitor.¡±


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    Wait? What!


    ¡°You work for the Ostean Grand-Inquisitor?¡± I hissed in outrage, clutching Dad¡¯s arm for support. The implications of this were¡­ they were¡­ more than I could imagine. So shockingly severe that I couldn¡¯t think of any concrete consequences beyond how horrifically bad they would be. Bad, bad, terrible, impossibly bad.


    ¡°There¡¯s a lot of ocean between here and Ostea,¡± Irina replied, clearly delighted at catching me so off-balance, ¡°enough for opinion and policy to drift apart. Orders from Thysa and Aberny aren¡¯t as well received in Ostea as they were four decades ago.¡±


    Drift apart? That was very much¡­ something. I had assumed factions of some kind. But this? This was agents from the Ostean Inquisition infiltrating the Thysan Inquisition and freeing their captured vampires. Never mind that the Inquisition was supposed to be mankind¡¯s united front against the vampire threat. Never mind that vampires were meant to be killed instead of captured. Never mind that¡ª


    I didn¡¯t even know if Irina was really working for the Ostean Inquisition. I was just assuming. My Creeping-vines captor, Inquisitor Sung, had insinuated Irina worked for a Retivius, and she hadn¡¯t denied it back then. I asked just now, and she hadn¡¯t explicitly answered either. Refusal to answer wasn¡¯t an automatic admission, but it came close to one.


    And then¡­ Ostean Inquisition. The mere thought was utterly absurd. There was only one Inquisition. One united entity. The Inquisition stood above power struggles and succession politics. It was slow, and stuffy, and exploitative of us monster hunters. Dogmatic and a little haughty. But not this. Not the force sent to fight a war a continent away rebelling against their Thysan masters.


    No matter how I looked at Irina¡¯s ludicrous claims, I simply couldn¡¯t wrap my head around them. Struggling for something concrete to anchor my reasoning in, I traced one of the wrinkles of the aged skin on Dad¡¯s arm. ¡°Dad? You know this Ostean Grand-Inquisitor?¡±


    Just like me, my dad had stiffened when he¡¯d heard Irina¡¯s explanation. He was so distracted by her claims that I could prod his arm to get his attention now without there being a sharp spike of fear in response.


    ¡°I think,¡± Dad stammered, ¡°wasn¡¯t Retivius the Grand-Inquisitor before I was deployed there? He died during a¡­¡± He swallowed. ¡°A vampire attack or something.¡±


    ¡°Lady Retivius is his daughter,¡± Irina explained.


    Right. Fine. Not someone my dad knew then. No help there. Except that vampires had apparently managed to kill the previous Grand-Inquisitor. That was something. That was very something. And this was way back before I was even born, before it got truly bad in Ostea.


    So much for getting my thoughts in order. Even the answers to the innocent questions upended everything. But it was fine. Shelve the confusion for later. Focus. I had suspicions I wanted confirmed or denied. Simple questions. Steer Irina towards answering my most important concerns.


    ¡°Back in my cell, you mentioned someone paid for my rescue, Irina.¡± I forced every ounce of skepticism I could muster into my voice, and let that suspicious tone be the question while my words themselves remained mere statements. ¡°You said you accepted the job because I was a nice vampire.¡±


    I had no idea what I was implying with my statements. I was still speculating wildly. By not suggesting anything specific, Irina was likely to fill in the vagaries in my question with whatever was foremost on her mind. Since she was most likely to be thinking about the truths she was trying to keep from me, she would assume I had figured out more than I actually had.


    I hoped. This whole situation was a little beyond the usual mind games I played with people.


    ¡°If you think I¡¯m foolish enough to lie about that to a vampire, then you are sorely mistaken, Sweets.¡± Irina laughed bitterly. ¡°Yes, I was paid to rescue you. Yes, the person who made the request used your kindness as an argument. No, it is not an absurd reason. Humans do not have a monopoly on kindness. And vampires are not the only ones capable of cruelty, as you are by now hopefully well aware.¡±


    Right. As far as non-answers went, that was definitely an all-encompassing one. Lies by omission were still lies, and that meant Irina was very much callous enough to lie to a vampire, regardless of her claims to the contrary. She was a conniving bitch. I should be ripping the secrets out of her and then killing her and her men after I was done with them. The only thing that was keeping me from doing that, was how my dad was likely to consider me even more of a monster if I did.


    Something she might be abusing. Time for a less subtle approach. ¡°That¡¯s not the entire truth, is it? You¡¯re also here for politics. Your job rescuing me merely happens to align with your Ostean Inquisition agenda.¡±


    There had to be more to the rescue attempt; some kind of political maneuvering that supported Irina¡¯s motivations for it. Implying that the Ostean Grand-Inquisitor might be involved was beyond absurd, absolutely one of my more outlandish theories. I was merely latching on to the one important name I had managed to remember from my captivity. That made it stand out and loom more exaggeratedly important than it actually was. But I needed something non-subtle to prod Irina, and this qualified.


    ¡°Hah! Of course there¡¯s politics, Sweets. There¡¯s always politics.¡± Irina laughed another bitter laugh. ¡°The other team, the one waiting for us at the rendezvous point, has a letter from the employer. I don¡¯t want to know who it¡¯s from, and I certainly don¡¯t want to know about its contents. Everything from assignment to payment, perfectly anonymous. Better that way. If they catch me or my men alive, they¡¯ll never stop asking questions.


    ¡°I know this though: the disagreement between Ostea and Thysa is about to get a lot uglier. Grand-Inquisitor Esmena Retivius will be coming here for negotiations. Whatever is in that letter, you run and you hide and you keep your head down. A vampire running loose here for the first time in more than thirty years has everyone assuming plots and plans. I did not save your ass and lose my gods-damned husband just for you to get yourself captured again right after!¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ coming?¡± my dad mumbled. ¡°But¡­ there¡¯s a blockade?¡±


    Of course. The blockade. The Inquisition upheld a strict blockade on Ostea. It had been there since before I was even born. No passengers or goods were allowed to travel to or from Ostea. Inquisition detachments were sent to Ostea to fight the war, but the posting was permanent. No one ever came back. Not even news from Ostea traveled the ocean. All of it to make absolutely certain that no Ostean vampires would ever make it to Thysa. That the Ostean Grand-Inquisitor was coming here was the biggest change in policy regarding the blockade ever.


    Irina snorted at my dad¡¯s remark. ¡°That blockade didn¡¯t stop you from smuggling a vampire baby into Thysa.¡±


    Irina was right. There was smuggling. A way past the blockade. But that was for letters. Little notes from Inquisitors posted in Ostea to the family they had left behind here in Thysa, like the ones Onar must have gotten. Maybe a keepsake or two. But not whole crates of goods. Not people. Definitely not vampires. Except, apparently, baby vampire me.


    How have I never questioned that?


    Worse, how have I never even noticed this?


    Dad pulled his arm out of my grip, and suddenly his icy fingers were digging into my shoulder, turning me to face him. ¡°Tina, what is all this? What did you get involved in? Last I heard from you was that letter in the summer and now all this.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I whimpered, shook my head, and focussed on the path ahead.


    I didn¡¯t understand any of this. I had never heard of Inquisitors returning from Ostea, and now the Ostean Grand-Inquisitor was traveling here. There was an impenetrable blockade against vampires, yet my dad had smuggled me into the country anyway. There was only one unified Inquisition, and now two factions were standing at odds. Vampires were always killed on sight, yet I had first been captured and then freed. None of this made sense.


    Maybe this is all one big lie by Irina?


    Or maybe I¡¯m just ignorant?


    Regardless of any of this, Irina¡¯s warning to stay hidden made sense. As far as I knew Thysa was vampire-free. What would happen if word got out that the vampires were here anyway, hiding away in cozy little villages like Birnstead? That they were pretending to be innocent little hunter girls like me? I could hardly imagine the consequences. The panic.


    What if news spread that an Inquisitor had helped free a vampire? Would people even believe that kind of rumor? I was a vampire and vampires were horrid monsters and Inquisitors protected people from the vampires.


    I could reason through what Creeping-vines Sung would think of this though. The timing of all this conveniently matched the Ostean Grand-Inquisitor coming here. He would wonder who I was that I required this kind of special rescue. Spy? Planted agent? Precursor to a vampire invasion?


    Seen in that light, having been captured instead of killed made a lot more sense...

 2.14 — Impossibly Familiar

    When the quiet burbling of water became audible, Irina gave new instructions. ¡°We¡¯re turning off the path here and following the stream downriver. There¡¯ll be a little shack in half a mile or so. That¡¯s the rendezvous point.¡±


    I steered my horse in the indicated direction and started paying closer attention to our surroundings. Retreating into my thoughts and overthinking things was an old habit, a bad one in a situation like this. It shouldn¡¯t matter how many ¡°revelations¡± Irina dumped on me. As long as I remained in the company of so many Inquisitors of dubious allegiance, any lapse of vigilance was dangerous.


    Distraction and doubts about Dad¡¯s reaction had even cost me the narrow window I had to eliminate Irina and her band of allies. I really should have killed them, regardless of what Dad would think about that. They intended to abandon me, so they held no more value to me. If Creeping-vines Sung caught one of them alive, he would have a lot more time to interrogate them than I had now, which was a tremendous risk. The sane choice was to remove those unknown risks and deal with the known risks killing even more Inquisitors created rationally.


    Unless Irina¡¯s employer sought retaliation for the deaths, then that created even more risks.


    Aaaaah! This is why I shouldn¡¯t overthink things!


    It was too late now anyway. I could already smell the other group. Seven of them were Inquisitors, all leather and armor and tense fright. Intermingled in that was the eighth person, a female with an anxious taste of¡­ spiced¡­ ferns?


    Can¡¯t be¡­


    I held in my horse and motioned for Irina to take the lead. ¡°You go first in this last stretch. I would rather not have your twitchy friends make regretful mistakes.¡±


    The short pause as we switched places allowed me to examine the sharp and unusual flavor of the woman. It was her. I was certain of that now. Unbelievably, impossibly, it was her. Aunt Reya. And Fern, my horse. She was the crazy woman Irina had mentioned. It was her. I should never have doubted that.


    ¡°Turnip?¡± Dad mumbled drowsily.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Dad,¡± I answered, relief making me nestle comfortably into his familiar weight now that cold sleepiness was overtaking him and he wasn¡¯t shrinking away from me. ¡°I think I know the woman Irina¡¯s going to deliver us to. Absolutely mad enough to storm up to the Inquisition and demand my release, but she¡¯s a good person. Capable. She¡¯ll know what to do. She¡­ she¡¯s a friend.¡±


    ¡°A ¡­ friend?¡± Suddenly more awake again, Dad sounded out the word friend with incredulity. His embrace of me became stiff and awkward once more.


    I swallowed a growl, my elation and hope smothered as soon as it had arrived. Of course it was this again. I was still his murderous vampire child, so I couldn¡¯t have friends like a normal person. Nothing had changed in how he saw me, and definitely not for the better. Overtaken by drowsiness, he¡¯d merely forgotten for a moment, accidentally slipped into considering me as his perfectly human daughter, and now he¡¯d reminded himself about my nature.


    And this was the wrong time to be annoyed by his reaction. It wasn¡¯t only Aunt Reya waiting for me. Seven Inquisitors were escorting her. Trained men, with crossbows aimed at every possible angle of approach. Seven Inquisitors that would be every bit as twitchy about my nature as Remorseful-morsel Piers, or as Dad.


    If it wasn¡¯t such a tense moment, it might almost be nostalgic, in a way. I had experienced a similar situation back in Birnstead, when the people there had first found out I was a vampire. So much was alike. Then too, the villagers had been waiting for me in the dark, with all their fears and murderous intent on display.


    But some things were different as well. Unlike the inhabitants of Birnstead, these Inquisitors had not ruined their night vision with ill-placed torches. They hadn¡¯t left as many blind spots in their defenses. They were much better armed. Professional vampire slayers as well.


    And I had my dad¡¯s panicked heartbeat at my back reminding me of what I had to lose if this mad gamble went wrong. I couldn¡¯t possibly shield him from danger with my tiny frail body. A single stray crossbow bolt would be enough to end him. Nothing I could do to stop it. No healing magic strong enough to mend a deadly injury. Naked and empty-handed, I had little to defend us with.


    But I was damned well going to try.


    We approached, with Irina a good fifteen paces ahead of me. The quiet splashing of the tiny stream of water, the clop of a hoof, and the gentle rustle of the wind only added to the tenseness. The humans with me had all gone silent. I had gone silent as well. No more heartbeat. No more pointless human mimicry.


    A tightness knotted in my stomach. I could only hope Irina¡¯s men were not using her as bait, as a trap.


    Another step closer to the meeting point, another step during which I wondered if I had misjudged the distance I should be leaving between us and Irina.


    The first gaps appeared in the dense pack of trees, and I got a quick whiff of the scene awaiting us. Seven distinct flavors of Inquisitor had taken up position in a semicircle around the clearing, their stink of barely restrained fear overpowering the gentle flavors of moss and reeds and rotting wood.


    The forest opened up, and then I could see as well as taste. Some of them were hidden behind rocks, young shoots, or bushes in what must have once been a clearing but was now slowly being reclaimed by nature. Others had taken cover behind the dry grasses and reeds that now sprouted from half-collapsed walls and moss-and-mushroom-eaten wood of what had probably been a shack hugging the stream. One Inquisitor had even climbed a tree that had entwined itself so firmly with the side of the abandoned dwelling that it was no longer possible to say where one ended and the other began.


    They were good defensive positions. If it wasn¡¯t for the eight horses milling near the riverbank, another human might not even be able to tell that those seven Inquisitors were here. Yet to me, who could locate them by their too-even breathing and the tense beating of their hearts, it was as if they were only pretending to hide.


    Maybe they really were just pretending, falling back on familiar motions and training simply because the comfort of the known kept the panic away. Merely because it was better than acknowledging that their hiding spaces were useless when up against a vampire. The fresh taste of panic, as Irina called out to people she could not see in the dark, confirmed that suspicion.


    Irina kept glancing at places where no one was hiding. Seven other Inquisitors only barely managed to stare in the general direction of her voice. This spectacle, in the perfectly dark, cloud-covered night, was why we hadn¡¯t been followed into the woods. Because I could see and hear and taste it all from the very edge of the clearing, while they could barely see a handful of paces in front of them.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Silently urging my dad to stay on the horse, I dropped to the ground. Unseen, while Irina and the Inquisitors guarding the clearing exchanged greetings and assurances, I stalked closer towards the structure in the center of the clearing, and the person still inside of it, the one that wasn¡¯t an Inquisitor.


    I wasn¡¯t even halfway there yet when that person came climbing out from between the vines and branches holding up what little remained of the abandoned dwelling. The person that I now knew, beyond a doubt, was Aunt Reya. She too had grown tired of the slow exchange. Those careful assurances from Irina that she had not been followed. That there was no ambush. The affirmation that Irina had the vampire Valentina. That the vampire was under control and not going to murder everyone.


    Aunt Reya marched up to Irina, fearless. The undergrowth nearly tripped her. She plowed through it and demanded to see me. One of the Inquisitors tried to stop her from interfering. She began hurling insults at the man in her usual abrasive way.


    When his words were unable to calm Aunt Reya, the Inquisitor moved to restrain her.


    She socked him in the jaw. Hard. Aunt Reya hit the Inquisitor so hard the smack echoed through the clearing like thunder. So hard, that one of the most dangerous, well-trained, deadly people in the kingdom reeled from the blow, then slipped in the mud, then fell on his ass in the stream.


    I laughed. I could not help myself. My foolish Aunt had assaulted an Inquisitor and everything was going to descend into brutal slaughter because of it, but I laughed.


    Aunt Reya, hearing my guffaw erupt from the dark of night, rushed towards the sound of my voice, calling my name.


    I didn¡¯t wait for her to find me. I dashed forward, barreled into her, and wrapped my arms around her middle. I had just terrified every Inquisitor here by rushing out of the cover of darkness like this, but I did not care. She was here for me. Impossibly, implausibly, she had come after me.


    I clung to her.


    I nuzzled her.


    I laughed in absolute delight.


    She flailed. She hissed in panic. She tried to pry me off of her. Yet after months of living near her, I knew this wasn¡¯t the shock or fear of being pounced by a vampire. This was awkward Aunt Reya, completely incapable of dealing with the concept of being hugged.


    ¡°Sarding hell Vale, you reek something ungodly.¡± Aunt Reya dug her fingers under my arms and began pulling me off of her in earnest. ¡°Get off already. You¡¯re making everyone think I¡¯m being mauled or sucked dry or something. These are Inquisitors, divine¡¯s sake. Have some common sense.¡±


    I tensed. The severity of Aunt Reya¡¯s words was reinforced by five, six, nine Inquisitors rushing to encircle us. The night lit up with runelight as every single enchantment woven into weapons and armor was activated simultaneously. The air around us bristled, laden with the promise of violent and deadly weaves.


    Pulling one of my arms off of her, Aunt Reya turned to the Inquisitors surrounding us. ¡°See, not dangerous.¡± My arm, held in her hand, flopped uselessly up and down as she waved it in demonstration. ¡°Just an emotionally stunted, attention-starved child. Now put that shit away and sard off.¡±


    I fought down the sheepish grin threatening to creep onto my face. No fangs. Not now. Not even smiles or anything that could be remotely interpreted as threatening. Vulnerable and sad and stupid and all that.


    A brief argument followed, and eventually the Inquisitors peeled off and retreated to their horses. Maybe they simply decided they didn¡¯t care if I mauled Aunt Reya, as long as it wasn¡¯t them being attacked.


    I honestly didn¡¯t pay it all that much attention. Maybe I should have. But at the time, I needed my moment of peace and comfort more than I needed my answers. Aunt Reya may have found an acceptable reason for escaping the hug, but that did not mean I was letting go. I nestled my messy tangle of hair deeper into her chest and sniffed. It was so, so rare to have someone whose presence I could breathe in without temptation, and I was going to enjoy this. Besides, if she really wanted me off her, she would have long picked me up or tossed me to the ground.


    I did not get the time I needed. I barely got properly settled in Aunt Reya¡¯s embrace before I heard my dad¡¯s stumbling footsteps.


    ¡°Tina, who is this madwoman?¡± he asked, still standing a very safe five feet away from me.


    ¡°Tina?¡± Reya pushed me away from her and raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°Vale,¡± I corrected automatically. ¡°Dad. Aunt Reya.¡± I gestured between them as a means of introducing them to each other. Thankfully the Inquisitors working around us still had their runelight enchantments going, bathing the clearing in its gentle light so that both of them could see me gesture.


    ¡°Aunt Reya?¡± My dad sounded out the woman¡¯s name in disbelief.


    No, it wasn¡¯t so much the name making him hesitate, but the other part. Aunt. He¡¯d stressed this thing that had lodged itself into my thoughts sometime during my stay in Birnstead. This feeling I did not have a name for, but which expressed itself in a sense of affection and kinship. The extra word that now rolled off my tongue even when it was inadequate and insufficient and so needed that I couldn¡¯t imagine ever not uttering it. Something more than family, precious and worthwhile and mine.


    And with Dad¡¯s unspoken question, came another accusation. This isn¡¯t a friend. This isn¡¯t how friendship works. This relationship you think you have with this woman, it is not natural.


    I glowered, but kept my mouth shut. No, no matter how much he wanted to, I was not going to argue this. Not now. Not here. Not again. Not when we¡¯d had this same argument over Uncle Hadrian every single year. Not after trying and failing to explain my affection for Aunt Reya to the people of Birnstead. Even if this feeling wasn¡¯t like friendship ¡ª like how I saw Nebby and Shae ¡ª I would not let anyone take it away from me. And I would not allow Dad to drag me into another irrational argument over this here, in front of all these Inquisitors.


    Aunt Reya filled the awkward silence with a look of disapproval, and a hand reluctantly held out to my dad in greeting. ¡°Nice to meet you, sir, you have a lovely daughter.¡± The icy tone of her voice spoke of just how nice she really found everything.


    My dad approached warily and took the offered hand.


    Aunt Reya shot me a disapproving look, pulled Dad closer, shrugged off her winter cloak, and wrapped it around his shoulders.


    Before things could get more awkward, Irina returned, one of the Inquisitors from this new group trailing after her. ¡°The letter.¡± She held out a tiny slip of paper towards me. ¡°We¡¯re leaving. Don¡¯t linger. Stay safe. Stay hidden.¡±


    I took the offered note and turned it over and over. Plain rough paper. Blank seal. Anyone could have opened this and then resealed it. No way to tell.


    Aunt Reya shuffled closer, glancing over my head to study the note as well. ¡°Ah, good. So there is a letter. They were telling the truth about that then, at least.¡±


    ¡°How do you know about this?¡± my dad asked.


    ¡°Me and the boys have been¡­ accompanying each other for a couple of days now. That¡¯s enough time to loosen some tongues and gently pry into some things.¡±


    ¡°You questioned the Inquisitors?¡± my dad gave Aunt Reya a disbelieving stare.


    Aunt Reya gave him a lopsided grin. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m sensible alright. I only get violent with Inquisitors after I have built rapport and gotten what I want. Couldn¡¯t tell me who your mysterious benefactor is, though.¡±


    I hiccupped. Build rapport, then sock them. That was such a Reya thing. Such a gods-damned Reya thing to do. ¡°Well, I wish I could tell you.¡± I sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t have crazy mysterious benefactors that can hire Inquisitors to break me out. And I certainly don¡¯t want to be indebted to any. This letter terrifies me, Aunt Reya.¡±


    ¡°Well, better open it then. I¡¯d prefer to ask any follow-up questions we might have before these assholes ride off on us.¡±


    With a final, resigned sigh, I put a claw behind the seal, tore it loose, and folded the thing open. My eyes flitted over impossibly familiar handwriting, darting straight toward the name at the end. The little fold of paper nearly slipped from my fingers.


    ¡°No, no, no,¡± I whimpered.


    Dad and Aunt Reya both leaned in, trying to read along. Again, it was Aunt Reya who showed no apprehension. Standing directly behind me she placed her hands on my shoulders, while Dad kept a little more distance.


    For their benefit, I whispered the words just loud enough for them to hear as my claws traced the large, swirling cursive of Uncle Hadrian¡¯s handwriting.

 2.15 — One Beginning

    <blockquote>


    My dearest little Teetee,


    It has been a privilege to see you grow from a little babe into a bright young woman, a ray of sunshine in my otherwise mundane life. Just a few days ago however, I received the sort of news that I have always feared, but had prayed would never come. At least there is one small glimmer of hope for me left. If this letter finds you, then it means you at least are well.


    Assuming such is the case, then do this favorite uncle of yours one last kindness. For once, this winter, do not do anything rash. Stay safe. Do not cause trouble. And above all, know that I will always carry you in my heart.


    Yours,


    Uncle Haddy


    </blockquote>


    It was unbelievable. Incomprehensible. I kept staring at the note in my hand, but even with sheer force of will I could not get it to make sense. This was wrong. This had to be a lie. A forgery. Worse still, the letter was a whole lot of nothing. An infuriating string of banalities and non-statements. Angry, I flipped the thing over. Uncle Hadrian always loved his post-scripts. There had to be something more there.


    <blockquote>


    TT dear,


    I know you are staring at this other side in frustration right now. After all, while I know you will deny it, it is so very like you to worry about those dear to you before all else.


    Know that I did not share my own troubles because you can not help with them. I will be well. Please look after yourself first. Do not make me worry about you after I have gone to such great lengths to ascertain your safety.


    </blockquote>


    More empty words, and all I could do was stare at the paper. I stared and stared, wondering what it meant. Uncle Hadrian was as much part of my family as Dad. Despite his job as a small-time merchant keeping him busy, he still made room in his schedule each year to come visit me. Even though Dad and I moved to some new middle-of-nowhere place every couple of years, even though Uncle Hadrian had to come all the way from his hometown near the capital, he always visited. For at least a week.


    He gave me hugs and called me his little Teetee. He¡¯d carried me piggyback through field and forest. He¡¯d taught me whittling, calligraphy, and a million different ways to braid hair. That last he must have taught himself first, specifically so that he could teach me afterward. He was never more satisfied than when he finally got me to smile, a true unbothered smile uncaring of fangs that had to be kept hidden.


    Perhaps he meant even more to me than Dad. Uncle Hadrian was¡­ mine, as much as Aunt Reya. That same inhuman feeling of affection and kinship.


    And now¡­ this letter. How dear he was to me only made it all the harder.


    Every conclusion and question I drew from the words seemed even more absurd. Had he learned about my capture? How even? Did this mean he was Irina¡¯s employer? How did he even get the money, or the influence to do something like this? Where did he acquire the kinds of connections that allowed for it?


    Uncle Hadrian being capable of orchestrating my escape would mean that every time I had argued about this with my dad, that he may have been right. And even that realization only registered vaguely, because the whole letter read like something permanent, a final goodbye.


    Uncle Hadrian was in trouble.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s certainly a lot of words to say we¡¯re all screwed ten ways to Sunday.¡± Aunt Reya¡¯s voice cut through my confusion. One hand of hers brushed the top of my head for a second. Then she pulled back as if shocked by her display of affection.  She snatched the note from my hands and held it up. She twirled and danced with it, straining to get the writing angled towards the scant light in a way that allowed her to read it. ¡°Sarding hell, I clearly never fully appreciated how well you can see in the dark.¡±


    ¡°Give me that.¡± Dad stole the note from Aunt Reya, only for it to slide out from between his stiff fingers and flutter to the ground immediately after. He didn¡¯t even reach for it as it fell, and didn''t try to hide his clumsiness. He just watched it drop into the dirt and then glared at me. ¡°Looks like your precious uncle Hadrian is finally showing his true colors. I¡¯ve always known that man is bad news.¡±


    ¡°Sarding hell, Dad!¡± I hissed as I crouched to pick up the mud-stained paper that was the only memento I had left of my Uncle. ¡°He¡¯s never done anything wrong. He¡¯s always looked after us. He¡¯s even saved us now!¡± I glared up at him when I stood up again. But you just always have to gloat, don¡¯t you? He¡¯s my friend, and he saved me, and I don¡¯t care how suspicious this note is, or how you¡¯re right about him and I¡¯m wrong and I¡¯m not human and can¡¯t judge people properly because I look at them weird.


    ¡°Alright. That¡¯s enough.¡± Aunt Reya stepped between us. She grabbed Dad¡¯s arm and pulled him along, towards her horse. The beautiful, bracken-scented courser that was my old horse. Fern. ¡°This is wasting time,¡± Aunt Reya scolded my dad, ¡°and you¡¯re going to freeze to death at this rate.¡±


    It was only when Aunt Reya spoke those words that it registered that, even without her cloak, she was bundled up in warm winter clothes, fur-lined boots, and fingerless gloves. The Inquisitors that had traveled with us as well wore thick padded armor that protected from cold as well as weapons. Somewhere along the way they had donned caps and hats and gloves, or maybe they had worn them all along.


    Meanwhile, Dad wore nothing but rags and the winter cloak Aunt Reya had lent him. The entire trip from the fort to here, he¡¯d only had his prison slacks. He had been out here in the winter cold, shivering, freezing, never even complaining. He must have been so, so cold. He could die in this frigid winter air. And I had been so self-obsessed, so unaware of the temperature that never truly bothered me anyway, that I hadn¡¯t even noticed the effect the weather had on him.


    ¡°He¡¯s never had a proper reason to care, Tina,¡± Dad said as he allowed Aunt Reya to wrap him in blankets.


    ¡°He¡¯s human, Dad.¡± I spat out, a snarl accentuating my every word. Clearly, even freezing to death, Dad couldn¡¯t admit that he might be wrong. ¡°Unlike me, he doesn¡¯t need a reason to care. He just does.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s the one who smuggled us into the country, Tina. He¡¯s dangerous, and the only reason he cares is because he has some kind of agenda.¡±


    ¡°He what?¡± I gasped. Paper crumpled in my clenched fist and I quickly unclenched it again. Smoothing out the note as best as I could, I looked from him to the letter, and back to him. ¡°You never told me that,¡± I stammered. ¡°He smuggled us? Why did you never tell me he smuggled us?¡±


    ¡°Right. Enough. Both of you.¡± Aunt Reya directed some more angry words at my dad. He argued back. Briefly. It wasn¡¯t much of a fight. Aunt Reya wins her arguments. She always does.


    As soon as she was done berating my dad she strode over to me and hissed into my ear. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t care about your little familial spat, Girl. But next time you get a super secret note from a mysterious entity, don¡¯t start arguing about it where they can hear you.¡± She directed my gaze toward the Inquisitors who were fully saddled up now and ready to leave.


    They had said they were ready to leave ages ago, when they¡¯d handed me the letter. Yet they were still here, dawdling, for reasons that were stupidly obvious now that Aunt Reya had pointed them out. At least they were done listening in now. Suddenly they were lining up in a single file, horses steered away from the clearing and spurred on.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Anything you still want to ask these assholes before they disappear into the night?¡± Aunt Reya asked.


    I breathed out a shaky negative. There was so much I wanted to hear them out on, but with my Uncle¡¯s letter in hand, none of it seemed important enough. I still needed to kill them even, but even that felt like little more than an afterthought. They were only Inquisitors. But this note in my hand; he had been family, and he had hidden so much from me.


    Reya shrugged. ¡°Not the time eh. ¡®s alright, I already questioned them for you.¡± She lowered her voice to a whisper. ¡°Kind of think we¡¯re losing the war though. That¡¯s um¡­ a thing.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re what?¡± my father bristled, having followed Aunt Reya to listen in. His loudness stood in stark contrast to Aunt Reya¡¯s hushed tones.


    ¡°You send a bunch of orphans out to run a street. The stupid buggers come back battered, bruised, and empty-handed. You think you¡¯re hot shit, ignore their whining, kick their asses, and send them back. What do you think happens when you do that a couple of times too often? You lose the entire block, that¡¯s what happens. Those Inquisitors didn¡¯t explicitly say anything to that extent, but with the Grand-Inquisitor coming here for a chat, I can¡¯t help but see the parallels. But hey, what do I know, I¡¯m certain a bunch of street kids is nothing like an army.¡±


    I found myself nodding along to Aunt Reya¡¯s explanation before I realized the absurdity of it. Of course street urchins were nothing like an army. This comparison made no sense. The Inquisition was the elite protection against all inhuman threats. They were unbeatable. They didn¡¯t just¡­ this. Whatever this was.


    I glanced up at Dad for support. He¡¯d been an Inquisitor. He¡¯d fought in Ostea. Surely he¡¯d be able to voice the proper, well-reasoned objections to Reya¡¯s arguments I didn¡¯t seem to be able to come up with right now. We wielded the combined might and innovation of all civilized nations. We could never be defeated by a bunch of savage vampires. We didn¡¯t lose. That simply wasn¡¯t possible.


    Dad¡¯s shoulder slumped, and he shook his head.


    ¡°Dad?¡± I begged.


    No. No no no. No. This was too much. Simply too much. Far too much at once. My rescue, a Grand Inquisitor, getting my dad out, the war, rival factions, finding Aunt Reya, my Uncle. We were just weary, and tired, and beat, and no longer thinking straight. Right. That was it. I needed¡­ needed a moment, that was all.


    With heavy arms, I brought the note up again, intent on going over it once more. Then I thought better of it. I trudged over to the horse Dad had abandoned, and led it towards Fern. My old horse was skittish, first darting away from my outstretched hand, then carefully sniffing it. As soon as Fern allowed it, I gave her all the scritches.


    Fern snorted indignantly in response. Her silly bean owner had abandoned her, yes she had. That wasn¡¯t nice of the silly bean two-legs. It would take a lot more than mere affectionate scritches to make up for that kind of undignified abandonment. Fern shook her head up and down to accentuate her point. We had an agreement you wouldn¡¯t run off, you silly bean. Fern stomped the ground. And the person the silly bean had left her with had even neglected time at the hoof smith. It would take so much longer to fix those up now. Didn¡¯t the silly bean owner know how important, how validating good hoof-care was.


    I rested my head on Fern¡¯s neck, sighed in contentment, and pulled my fingers through her mane. Maybe the silly bean vampire humanized her horse¡¯s reactions a little too much, but the silly bean wouldn¡¯t have it any other way. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you brought her,¡± I told Aunt Reya. ¡°I thought I¡¯d lost her forever.¡±


    With the Inquisitors gone, and their runelight with it, Aunt Reya only managed to stare in the general direction of my voice.  ¡°They left her, as repayment. Burned everything else you owned. Slaughtered my pig, even.¡±


    I checked under Fern¡¯s saddle. I dug through bags that clearly weren¡¯t the ones I had owned. She was right. They had taken everything. No more rune-carved sword. Crossbow gone. None of the little trinkets I had owned were left. Even the old and worn saddle blanket that Uncle Hadrian had gifted me wasn¡¯t there anymore. That last one hurt the most, just like Fern it couldn¡¯t be replaced.


    ¡°Repayment?¡± I asked, to get my mind off the loss. Obviously, the Inquisitors that had captured me had also slaughtered Aunt Reya¡¯s pig. I had fed from it, doomed it. They couldn¡¯t let a thrall live, not even a simple pig. Perhaps that they slaughtered it had been a mercy for the animal. But that didn¡¯t explain how Fern served as repayment.


    I rifled through the packs on both horses once more. There were no torches or anything in the bags on Fern¡¯s back. Luckily the other horse had been an Inquisition mount. In one compartment I found a purpose-built chisel and some nice smooth stones, an emergency stash of blank runestones, ready for carving.


    ¡°You should get cleaned up first,¡± Aunt Reya answered after far too long a pause. ¡°There¡¯s a spare shirt that should be sort of your size in one of the bags even.¡±


    That was a deflection, and an awkward one at that. It was unusual. Aunt Reya did not do deflections. Or awkwardness. ¡°Repayment, Aunt Reya? Repayment for what?¡±


    The scrape of chisel on runestone accentuated my words. If this night remained as clouded and dark as it was right now, then we needed some kind of light source so that Dad and Aunt Reya would be able to see. Any runelight enchantment I carved here and now, in what little time I had, would be crude. Barely any light. Wouldn¡¯t hold an Atlus charge for long. I might not even remember all of the runes that made up the enchantment, as it was one I personally had no use for. Carving was still better than thinking about why Aunt Reya was deflecting.


    Please, please, no. Not that.


    Please don¡¯t be the reason why you¡¯re here instead of there.


    ¡°That¡¯s not important right now. We¡¯d best get as far away from here as we can before the sun rises and they start hunting us.¡±


    ¡°Aunt Reya,¡± I stated miserably, fearing her avoidance for real now. ¡°How¡¯s¡­ how¡¯s everyone in Birnstead?¡±


    Aunt Reya pursed her lips, opened her mouth, closed it again. She shook her head. ¡°I¡­ I asked around, but I¡¯m sorry, Vale. If someone ratted you out to the Inquisition, it wasn¡¯t one of us.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I asked. Is everyone alright?¡± Any other time I might be intrigued at how people always thought in terms of vengeance and retribution. Now it just frustrated me. Aunt Reya knew I didn¡¯t care about that. I tilted my head, taking the time to catalog the scents coursing through her veins. Fear. Despair. Hopelessness. It wasn¡¯t a very Reya scent at all.


    Aunt Reya sighed. ¡°No, they¡¯re not. They will be, but¡­¡± She closed her eyes and rubbed at them with the heel of a hand. ¡°They came for you out of nowhere and of course everyone in town showed up for the commotion. I tried to get people not to watch, to leave, but just getting that across was impossible. Everyone so loves to watch a disaster.¡± Her whole body shuddered in deep discomfort. ¡°They tossed you out of that bunkhouse limb by sarding limb, Vale. Your half-melted torso, head still attached, last. Hardly anything recognizable left, and that was¡­ that probably made it easier. Look. Do we need to do this now?¡±


    ¡°How did you even find me?¡± This was upsetting her, so I changed my line of questioning.


    It had upset my dad as well. He¡¯d simply stormed off in the middle of Reya¡¯s explanation, heedless of the dark.


    It upset me too. I remembered my eyes boiling out of my head under the onslaught of Tonaltus. And people witnessed that. Shae and Nebby. Meg and Gery. Eryn and Rafe. They all watched as Tonaltus-seared, carved-up pieces of me were tossed out of the bunkhouse. It was the middle of the day. Every chunk of me tossed out into the open must have melted away under the sunlight.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t hard to find you,¡± Aunt Reya said. ¡°Simply followed their trail.¡±


    ¡°Followed¡­ their trail? Since when can you follow a wilderness trail?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t that hard, Vale. They stuck to the roads, and Inquisitors on a road are kind of notable. Simply had to ask around. Once I figured out that their main concern was delivering your dismembered, barely alive body as quickly as they could, all I needed was their general heading and a map of Inquisition strongholds. Found the right fort on my third try.¡±


    I carefully tied her answer back to my initial question. ¡°You just followed after them? Why? What about your wife? Granny Madge?¡±


    What happened in Birnstead that made you abandon everyone there and come after me?


    Is everyone sarding alright!


    I wanted to scream my questions, hurl them at Aunt Reya¡¯s face. I couldn¡¯t. I knew her too well. Despite all the righteous fury she always directed at others for withholding, deceiving, and manipulating, she was the same. If it hurt too much to talk about, she would cage the truth inside. Only a careful, measured approach would get her to share.


    ¡°They were six, two teams of three. As soon as they were done with you, one team departed with what little was left of you. The other team locked everyone in town in a barn. Something about finding thralls. It was four days before they let us out of there. We could only watch through gaps in the walls as they torched everything you¡¯d owned or touched. Even torched the gods damned bunkhouse since you¡¯d lived in it. Eryn handled it badly. She handled it¡­ she¡­¡±


    Aunt Reya choked on her words, tears of anguish streaking down her cheeks. She balled her fists and knuckled them off of her face, only for fresh tears to stream out right after. Frustrated, she turned away from me, swaying on unsteady legs.


    ¡°They left us your horse. ¡®Safe and unenthralled¡¯, they said. Handed Rafe a pouch of coins as ¡®dispensation for the bereavement¡¯. The sarding limp-gashing shits!¡± Aunt Reya screamed into the night. She spewed swears and curses drenched in misery and anger at the sky.


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sarding shut up, Vale. I already punched one of those assholes and I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to stop at that next time so shut up already. Granny Mags is dead. Eryn¡¯s dead, Vale. Eryn. Is. Dead!¡±

 2.16 — The Wrong Thing To Do

    Stunned beyond words, I moved on habit and pulled strands of Atlus through the weave carved into the runestone, lighting it up. All the easy-to-fix flaws in the runic circuit painted my claws in an uneven, stuttering glow.


    Eryn¡­ dead.


    The stone slipped through my fingers. It bounced off a rock and clattered to a stop a little distance away.


    Should pick it up.


    Check if it¡¯s fine.


    I squeezed my eyes shut and rolled my head back. I exhaled frigid air from my cold dead lungs into an even chillier night. There was a dark cover of clouds up there, obscuring the view of the star-speckled night sky. Even with my eyes closed I could tell those clouds were there. This kind of weather has a taste, a feel. With me no longer distracted by the convenience of sight it was readily apparent.


    Apparent how inhuman my perception of the world is.


    I clenched my hands into fists. Permanently sharp claws dug deep into my palms. Worse than the muted pain was the reminder of my own monstrous nature. A memory of Eryn¡¯s rare, teasing smile flitted through my head. With no more air to exhale, I raked my fingers through my tangled hair and relaxed the tension in my neck. My head lurched back down, coming to a stop with a sudden jolt shooting down my spine. The pain of that was a distant thing as well.


    I opened my eyes. Witnessed deep gouges raked into the ground. The constant, worried fidgeting of my feet sent my deadly talons burrowing deep into the earth. I tensed up. The clenching of my toes dug even deeper furrows in the ground. Dirt and small rocks parted effortlessly under the onslaught of monstrous strength and perfect sharpness.


    I squeezed my eyes shut again and turned lazily on the heel of a foot. Away from the horrid sight, but not hurried, not fleeing. Just, languid, predatory slowness. Somewhere ahead of me, in the dark, my dad flinched. He startled at my sudden movement, my turning to face him. I didn¡¯t need eyes to see that either. The animal part of me readily recognized the delicious spike of his preyed-upon terror.


    I even knew he¡¯d sat down facing me. He always did. Never turned his back.


    I took a step, eyes still closed. Even sightless I knew where to place my feet from the memory of my surroundings, the feel of the air, the taste of the wind, and the slope of the ground. Gravel crunched underneath a foot. Another step snapped a dry twig. Every noise I made was a deliberate act to let everyone around me know where I was. It happened effortlessly, hardly a conscious thought needed. After all, blindly was also how I navigated in eye-searing daytime brightness. After all, knowing where to plant your feet to make your presence known used the same savage skillset as silent and predatory stalking.


    Yet while this feigned clumsiness put my dad at ease, it could not change my reality. Everything I had known for the truth was a lie. I was not innocent and harmless. Eryn was dead, because of my selfishness. Who knows what had happened to everyone else I cared about in Birnstead. I had slaughtered innocent, well-meaning people in my escape. I was a monster, wanted, hunted, dangerous.


    And now even steadfast, unbendable Aunt Reya was screaming her impotent rage into the night sky.


    Instinct more than clear intent led me to the quiet burbling of the stream cutting the clearing in half. A single toe touched frigid water. My next step sank ankle-deep into the stream. I stopped. Eyes open. Looked down to the water at my feet. My pointless, fake breath hitched and I blinked.


    The nightmare in the water blinked its demented, monstrous eyes in tune. Its mad, questing gaze seemed to have a life of its own. The ravenous monster, barely disguised as a gangly child, studied me. Its eyes roved over my face, searching for exploitable weakness.


    I grimaced; the monster grinned back at me. A pointed fang slipped past grinning lips. A hungry tongue licked grime and caked blood from dry lips. Baked-in gore painted the horror¡¯s features in a tapestry of past maulings. The filth and blood ran down the creature''s neck in rivers of decay, coating every inch of its naked, disgusting body in the bloodstained reality of its true nature.


    I touched its face, monstrous, bloody claws peeling and scraping at the crud, but only managing to smear it out further. It wouldn¡¯t go away. Only made it worse. That was me now. The horror inside finally laid bare for all to see.


    That¡¯s me.


    That was not how I was supposed to look, but it was me. The thing reflected on the water, garbed in a poor approximation of a child¡¯s body, with dead pits for eyes, and a fake fanged smile that carved into your soul, that was me. I tried to twist my features into shape. Happy instead of haunted and hungry. Wide-eyed innocence instead of wild indignance. Timid instead of tortured.


    Every failed attempt only made me feel more miserable. The flowing water of the stream animated all the horrible little details of my reflection. Features shifted subtly wrong with every change in the liquid flow. The caked blood in the scattered reflection undulated as if it hadn¡¯t quite dried yet.


    Remnants of slaughtered Inquisitor lingered on my tongue. With every breath, the last desperate moments of Remorseful-morsel Piers taunted my senses. Every swallow amplified the taste of him, sent it flowing down my throat until the very memory of him burned a hole in my stomach.


    It was all so fake. The human mimicry, the lies, my hiding behind a mask of humanity was so disingenuous. I wasn¡¯t happy, or innocent, or timid. Despite how much it shocked me, the mirror of water did not lie. It only reflected what I had always denied. This monstrous, man-eating horror, that was the real me.


    I kicked the water, sudden ripples washing away my discomfort. There was no monster there. No vampire. If I couldn¡¯t see it then it wasn¡¯t real.


    Not real.


    Not.


    Not, not, not¡ª


    The water stilled. Reality stared back at me, with cold condemnation of my denial. With an angry grunt of despair I clawed at my reflection. Four great scar-rents tore through my mirror self, further disfiguring the horrid visage. I punched the water, driving my entire fist through the scarred monster-face. As long as I kept my arm submerged the image wouldn¡¯t be able to reform.


    Sobbing quiet tears that would not come, I closed my eyes.


    Later, the sweet scent of home and the soft crunch of gravel alerted me to Dad¡¯s presence. Keeping my eyes closed, I turned to face him, pinpointing his exact location by scent and sound alone. Four sets of claws ¡ª hands and feet both ¡ª gouged the mud at the bottom of the riverbed. Instead of finding grip, comfort, support, they only managed to stir up silt.


    I consciously held my legs still. Inattentiveness would naturally shift my awkward and strategically disadvantageous crouch into a perfect pouncing posture. I couldn¡¯t have that, not in front of my dad, who was already so terribly afraid of me. It would be so easy though. Not bothering with the lie, being myself.


    Why can¡¯t I just let go¡­


    ¡°Valentina¡­¡± Dad sighed, shifting from leg to leg.


    The water swirling at my feet carved into the riverbed, dug out the already unstable mud I was standing on, and my toes slipped.


    That simple utterance of my name in his grating voice, it was like a promise. None of my trying to appear less threatening had any use. He had time to recover from the cold and shock, and had gotten his thoughts in order. The lecture, the self-righteousness was coming.


    I shook my head, resigned. My foot found purchase again, my crouch a little closer to a pounce.


    ¡°Oh Valentina¡­ what have you gotten us into?¡± Dad asked, accentuating the have with an unhealthy dose of indignation.


    I swallowed the angry retort threatening to snarl its way out of my throat. Insult and offense. Distrust and abuse. He was always like this. And any second now he would complain about how my wrong decisions made him feel. How I was supposed to feel because of it. Divines, I can¡¯t believe I ever thought him lecturing about his feelings was a good thing. As if I even needed his reprimands to know anymore. I already knew this was my fault. All my fault.


    ¡°Who is that woman even?¡± Even with my eyes closed I could imagine him gesturing in Aunt Reya¡¯s direction. ¡°She assaulted an Inquisitor. That could have gotten us all killed. We can¡¯t just trust someone like that. Gods, none of this would have happened if I hadn¡¯t let you talk me into this.¡±


    I hung my head and opened my eyes. Crouched in the water¡¯s reflection, sat the vicious monster. A horrid man-eating vampire that could not be trusted around people. Instead of staying locked away like a good little pet, it had pleaded and begged to be allowed into the wider world. Finally, its too-human father had relented, had shown misguided faith and trust. And the monster had slipped away from that chokehold of fear. It had roamed, explored, wandered¡­


    And now Eryn was dead and everyone in Birnstead suffered the consequences because the monster wanted some pretend-humanity. Nearly a dozen Inquisitors slaughtered by the vile creature¡¯s hand, torn apart simply for doing their duty, at a time when the war was going badly and every single one of them was desperately needed. My father¡¯s false hope of raising a good little daughter, shattered. His entire life, ruined.


    I smashed a fist into the water, shattering my reflection once more. Two deep breaths and I gave an appropriate response. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, alright!¡±


    Except it was not the appropriate response. I knew, logically, what horrors I had inflicted on the world and the people around me. But I was not sorry. Apologies meant regret and an intent not to repeat the same mistake. I did not regret any of the things a normal person should be regretting, and if I was not careful I would probably do the same dumb things all over again.


    ¡°Sorry doesn¡¯t fix this. What are we going to do? Where are we going to go?¡± Dad waved his arms in large, agitated gestures. Then he dropped them and his voice dropped with it. ¡°How many did you kill?¡±


    My head snapped up. My hand slipped and I nearly crashed into the river. ¡°I¡ª¡± I sputtered, mentally tallying. Two at Dad¡¯s cell. Piers was my fault as well. Can¡¯t forget about Arrin. Eryn and Granny Madge. How many of the Inquisition reinforcements were¡­


    My thoughts faltered, overwhelmed by the look of absolute horror on Dad¡¯s face as he relived those horrid moments; me tearing into Piers, me hunched over the dead guards at his cell. As the reminder had him thinking so many other questions.


    As it had me thinking those same questions.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Did I like it?


    Will I do it again? How many more? Can I even stop? Where will it end?


    Am I even still your daughter?


    My claws dug into the mud, but it didn¡¯t have the same comforting texture as flesh. I chewed my lip, but it was a poor substitute for a freshly torn-off arm.


    Dad froze, his sudden wide-eyed stare boring into me. It came with a fresh spike of fear, a nervous shiver erupting all over him, then the rigid posture of prey that hoped the predator wouldn''t pounce as long as the prey remained perfectly still.


    One glance was enough and then I looked away. It didn¡¯t help, not seeing. His prey-taste was still there, screaming at me that he feared he¡¯d said far too much. Dread cloyed the air, fear that he might have angered me beyond recovery, that he may have stirred me into a frenzy. His stuttered breathing grated my ears, every inhale sharp as if it was the very last before I tore him apart.


    ¡°Dad. No!¡± I begged. ¡°You know I wouldn¡¯t. You know¡­¡±


    I wouldn¡¯t kill you?


    Except for that one time right after freeing you when I almost did. When the reinforcements rushed down into the dungeon and I reasoned, if ever so briefly, that sacrificing you was an easy way to secure my escape. Even if instantly dismissed, that single half-feral moment, that had been the truth of me. Dad had so wanted a child, someone he could love and care for and dote on. Instead, he had gotten me, the monster that wore his daughter¡¯s skin. I knew all the right responses, all the tender, caring reactions I was supposed to exhibit. He had drilled them into me, day after day, for more than twenty years. But none of that learned behavior replaced my instinctive reaction.


    Daughters cared, and I clearly did not. I absolutely would kill him if it ended up securing my safety. I would have killed Irina and the other Inquisitors if I had been a little more proactive. I could have broken out so much sooner, left a trail of so many more corpses if only I hadn¡¯t been so stuck in my own fantasy of harmlessness.


    I knew what my unnatural heart really wanted. And when I acted on it, I knew it was not me being strong. It was not me keeping some emotional distance to make more rational decisions. It was merely my true nature shining through. The real me, it was the monster reflected in the water.


    It was hard to believe that, just a few short months ago, if I had heard of a vampire killing Inquisitors, I would have gone after it. I¡¯d have to kill myself now. It was the right thing to do. It would rid the world of one more dangerous, man-eating monster. What a delusion. I couldn¡¯t kill myself. And if another vampire showed up¡­


    I don¡¯t know.


    I still wanted to protest, still wanted to deny my father¡¯s unspoken accusations. But I had been silent for too long, a tacit admission of my guilt. It was too late for me to continue the lie about my nature.


    I think he knew it too, because he threw up his arms. ¡°Gods damn¡ª¡±


    Aunt Reya interrupted by stepping in front of my dad. She mimed slamming our heads together, then shoved the runelight stone I had dropped into Dad¡¯s hand. What little light it had emitted was already mostly gone, the horridly carved circuit having leaked its charge. ¡°You taught your daughter magic, right? Her little light stone broke. Fix it,¡± she ordered. ¡°We need something to see by.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not¡ª¡± I hissed.


    ¡°You!¡± She dashed up to me, forced me to my knees, and dunked my head into the water. ¡°You¡¯re a mess, and you¡¯re giving me a run for my money on murder-face. Clean up. Get dressed.¡±


    Sputtering for air I didn¡¯t even need, I surfaced.


    Mercilessly, Aunt Reya dragged me to a sitting position. She raked a sharp comb through my hair while I hacked up water that had gotten in my lungs ¡ª still awful, even if I don¡¯t need to breathe. She rubbed a wet and far too rough cloth all over my face to clean it of the worst gunk.


    ¡°Continue,¡± she commanded, shoving the wet rag in my hands and draping a dry cloth to towel myself off with over my head. ¡°And once you¡¯re done, put on a shirt. Like I ordered you gods damned forever ago. This night isn¡¯t going to last and they will start hunting us when the sun comes up.¡±


    Right. Wasting time.


    Aunt Reya snatched the recharged runestone from Dad¡¯s hands. ¡°Good. Now, does anyone have a brilliant idea for how to survive this?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know you,¡± Dad accused her. ¡°Why should I trust you?¡±


    Aunt Reya took a step towards him. ¡°Because I¡¯m all you¡¯ve got, and I¡¯m a sight more competent than the both of you put together. Objections?¡±


    Dad acquiesced, his posture shrinking in on itself under Aunt Reya¡¯s burning gaze.


    ¡°What¡¯s your plan?¡± I asked as I finished toweling off. Even if I did not have the entire story, I trusted her. And if there was one thing I understood about Aunt Reya, then it was that when she was this snappy with people, it was out of disappointment. While Dad and I had been arguing, she must have been figuring out how to survive this.


    Aunt Reya motioned us towards the horses. ¡°I¡¯ve spent a lot of time thinking of ways to get you safe once I finally got you out of those bastard¡¯s claws, Vale. Didn¡¯t have much else to do, besides wait, and hope, and scheme. I admit, I stepped out of this game quite a while ago, and trust and favors don¡¯t always carry all that far. But I think I can still swing a couple of things, at least for a month or two.¡±


    ¡°This woman is sounding an awful lot like a criminal to me,¡± Dad muttered.


    ¡°We broke out of prison, Dad. What do you think that makes us,¡± I hissed, carefully not mentioning how much of that had been me slaughtering my way out. I couldn¡¯t have Dad distracted by that when I desperately needed to build his trust in Aunt Reya¡¯s capabilities in these kinds of situations. ¡°She ran a gang in a past life. Street kids. In Rhicat, I think. She doesn¡¯t really talk about it much. Or at all.¡±


    ¡°A gang!¡± Dad shouted. ¡°These are the kinds of people you ran off to?¡±


    ¡°Divine¡¯s sake, can you two make each other feel miserable some other time,¡± Aunt Reya hissed at us. ¡°Right now we need to move.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I agreed. ¡°What can you¡­ swing exactly?¡±


    ¡°You know, contacts, places, connections. Ways to remain hidden and wait for the worst of this to blow over. It¡¯s going to be harder with you and your dad than with you alone, but we¡¯ll manage somehow.¡±


    ¡°A month or two, and you¡¯re thinking we¡¯ll need longer?¡± I asked, knowing she would need a lot longer than that. They¡¯d never stop looking for me. Not ever. I presented too much of a threat. Beyond mere slaughter, I could thrall and turn people. I wasn¡¯t just a singular vampire. I was a plague, a tide of doom threatening to sweep over the continent.


    ¡°I genuinely do not know how long it will take, Vale. All we can hope is that if we lay low long enough, that you turn into less of a priority. It¡¯ll take as long as it takes.¡±


    I mulled that over as I checked the horses we had. Aunt Reya had been busy while Dad and I had been arguing. What little we had in terms of supplies and gear had been redistributed evenly among the two animals. Everything was ready to go. I went through it all anyway, verifying that Dad wouldn¡¯t lack anything essential, but mostly giving myself some more time to think. Aunt Reya clearly intended to aid us, both Dad and me, significantly, and for a long time. That was exactly what I needed from her, but what could she possibly gain from that?


    I slipped into one of Aunt Reya¡¯s smallest shirts. Predictably, it hung on my frail kid body like a badly fitted dress. ¡°But you¡¯ve already been gone from Birnstead for so long. You have a life there, a girlfriend. Hardly anyone knows you were here. You could go back. Why do this? Why for me?¡± I asked, fiddling with the garment, trying to get myself to look a little less like a petulant child.


    ¡°Yes Vale, for you.¡± Aunt Reya looked up thoughtfully. She kicked at a pebble. ¡°In a way, this may be the stupidest thing I¡¯ve ever done. I¡¯ve had so many moments where I thought I¡¯d give up and turn back. I didn¡¯t need to do this, not for anyone. This was a fool¡¯s errand. There¡¯s nothing I¡¯d be able to accomplish anyway. It would be easier to be selfish, and you were so strong that even cutting you into bits didn¡¯t kill you.¡± Aunt Reya wiped away fresh tears. ¡°But I¡¯ve misjudged you once before, thinking you were strong when you were weak. Never again, Vale.¡±


    I gave the shirt another tug. Aunt Reya had just voiced everything I thought about her helping me. It was stupid, and pointless, and made no sense. Yet she was helping anyway, and I was fairly certain she wasn¡¯t even lying or deceiving me about it. I should be able to tell if she was being dishonest. I lived in Birnstead all summer. I had months to study her tells.


    Selflessness. Perhaps it was as simple as that. Aunt Reya was doing this out of some kind of misplaced benevolence. Belief in selflessness was what had made the people of Birnstead accept me so readily. I went out of my way to take care of their Ahuizotl infestation. I amputated Uncle Tare¡¯s leg, and saved his life in the process. They¡¯d interpreted my actions as kindness. It wasn¡¯t. Not really. It was merely the closest I¡¯ve ever gotten to aligning self-interest with the benefit of others. The more I acted likable and helpful, the less likely the village had been to report on Onar¡¯s vampire rumors.


    But they believed in it, in kindness without any expectation of reciprocation. They performed irrationally selfless acts, all the time, without even realizing they were doing so. They could still be selfish, but sometimes they just weren¡¯t. That was what made them human, while I wasn¡¯t.


    I could use a little more of those happy feelings that doing good brought though. I didn¡¯t think I could manage months on end, with nothing to do but stay hidden. The thought of that reminded me far too much of how my life had been like before I set out. And this time those months of suffocation would be burdened even further with Aunt Reya hovering over me, constantly believing I was better than I really was.


    I couldn¡¯t have that, couldn¡¯t sit idly by after I¡¯d done such horrid things. I needed to do something that wasn¡¯t ripping people to shreds, had to commit to something that wasn¡¯t destructive or murderous or monstrous, and hope it gave me even the tiniest fragment of the indulgent thrills my escape had given me.


    And most important of all, Uncle Hadrian was mine every bit as much as Dad and Aunt Reya were. He was in trouble, and I could not abandon him, no matter how much Dad insisted I did so. And even if rescuing him was yet another of my self¨Cserving desires, I hoped that maybe, along the way, I could push my selfish wishes towards some kind of act that was at least a little bit selfless.


    I gave up on the shirt and helped Dad onto Fern¡¯s back. Aunt Reya checked how everything was stowed one last time, then took to the saddle of the more excitable horse. She extended a hand towards me, intent on letting me ride with her.


    Instead of taking the offered hand, I let go of Fern, chanced a quick, toothless smile at my dad, and stepped back. Away from both of them.


    ¡°Vale?¡± Aunt Reya frowned, then gestured towards the treeline. ¡°Now, please. Time is running out and I want a little more distance between us and the assholes that want to do this to you all over again.¡±


    I shook my head.


    Aunt Reya studied me. As I expected, it didn¡¯t take her long to figure me out at all. ¡°Sarding hell,¡± she swore, ¡°you¡¯re going after him, aren¡¯t you? That is why you¡¯ve been hearing me out.¡±


    I looked at my feet, unable to meet her penetrating gaze. I felt bad about hiding my intentions from her. If it weren¡¯t for my dad, then maybe I wouldn¡¯t have. But if I had spoken openly about my desires, then Dad would have never gotten on Fern. He would have argued and kept on arguing. I couldn¡¯t have that. Dawn was approaching, and Aunt Reya was right, we had no more time left for needless bickering.


    ¡°Yes, I am,¡± I mumbled. ¡°Could you take my dad¡­ without me?¡±


    Perhaps it was wrong to trust someone as cold, ruthless, and manipulative as Aunt Reya to take care of my dad. But this was exactly why I trusted her with him. We were on the run. There was no room for goodness and kindness. The only thing that measured up to the brutal treatment the Inquisition had subjected my dad and me to was Aunt Reya¡¯s callousness. She would do what was needed to keep my dad safe. Whatever it took.


    Dad did not know which one of us to look at first. ¡°Tina, no!¡± he cried out indignantly, when he finally realized my intentions. ¡°He¡¯s the smuggler that got us into Thysa, and he¡¯s obviously involved in a lot more nasty business.¡±


    ¡°I have to,¡± I protested. Yes, Uncle Hadrian might have smuggled me ¡ª a vampire ¡ª into the country. Yes, he was probably deeply involved in this entire mess. Yes, that meant he has likely lied to me for my entire life. But he has always treated me as a person. He has never seen me as a monster, as something to be feared. His love for me has always been unconditional.


    And he hired people to free me.


    I had repaid that kindness by ratting him out. That Inquisitor in charge of my interrogation, Creeping-vines Sung, he had asked after him. I couldn¡¯t quite remember if or how much I had told him about Uncle Hadrian, but Sung had asked about him during my escape. That meant he knew something at least. Sung had managed to locate and capture Dad. It was only a matter of time before he found Uncle Hadrian as well.


    Reya pushed her horse along until she stood in front of me. When she looked down on me it was with a strange compassion. ¡°This is not what you want to hear, but I must agree with your father. This uncle Hadrian is right in the middle of this mess, and you can not protect anyone if you can not even protect yourself.¡±


    ¡°I need to do this,¡± I pleaded. ¡°He cared for me, Dad, Aunt Reya. And I repaid that kindness by giving his name to the Inquisitors.¡±


    And I need to prove that I am still capable of kindness.


    ¡°You think I didn¡¯t tell them?¡± Dad spat back. ¡°They tortured me. I told them everything. But that doesn¡¯t mean this isn¡¯t the wrong thing to do. I want you safe, Turnip.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡ª¡± I cut myself off, refused to let this turn into an argument.  ¡°I¡¯m still going. Please?¡± I stepped up to my dad and clutched his leg, almost begging him to understand.


    ¡°Tina¡­ I¡­¡± his hand fluttered through the air as he sought for new words to dissuade me. His gaze drifted, then landed on Aunt Reya.


    ¡°If he is dear to you, then respect that he asked you to look after yourself first,¡± she offered.


    ¡°Can¡¯t. Not when he¡¯s clearly not looking after himself,¡± I countered.


    For a moment, it looked like Dad had nothing to say to that. Then, right when I thought he¡¯d resigned himself to my leaving, his hand landed on my head. His fingers dug into my hair. He plucked a strand out of my eyes and tucked it behind my ears with surprising gentleness. He sighed long and deep. Weary. ¡°Oh Turnip, if you¡¯re going to be this stubborn about it, then I¡¯ll just have to come with you, won¡¯t I.¡±

 2.17 — Never Wonder, Never Worry

    Somewhere to the right of me, grass rustled.


    Prey!


    I crashed through the underbrush. When the animal fled with a startled yip, I gave chase. The taste of its panic and the whisper of its hasty escape gave me direction. Smaller, more agile, the fox kept ahead of me with frequent changes in direction. It was a good hunt, freeing, invigorating. No slow tracking of a quarry. No armor to protect me. No weapons or magic to aid me. Only predator and prey. Me and the fox and the cold winter night.


    The animal careened into a small clearing. A mistake. The open space gave me room to maneuver.


    I dove at it.


    It dodged my swipe with a leap.


    I planted a hand on the ground, claws digging into the earth for grip, and twisted my body forward. Fangs closed around a hind leg as I landed. With a roll, I sprang back to my feet and whipped my head around in a violent arc. A liquid crunch of fox skull on hard winter ground ended the hunt. I fed, and then the animal¡¯s drained carcass sailed through the air, landing in an open, dry patch of grass.


    As I reveled in the blissful afterglow of hunting on pure instinct, I studied the spot where the dead body had landed, and the bushes I had burst through in my chase. Too noticeable. I crept near, careful to not leave any footprints, and gave the dead thing a little nudge to better conceal it.


    My fleeing had to look a little panicked, but not too obvious. I intended to leave few traces in wide open areas with packed soil, and clear signs of trampled undergrowth where the vegetation was densest. An hour or so back, I had come across a convenient muddy stretch of forest too large to easily go around. There, my passing had left some fine clawed footprints that served as a reassurance to any pursuers that they were still tracking a vampire. This fox carcass would serve as another clear indication.


    I couldn¡¯t have the Inquisition thinking they¡¯d gotten their trails mixed up. I needed them to follow this path, lead them toward me, and away from Dad and Aunt Reya. The more obviously hurried the traces I left were, the better. When the first rays of the sun crested the horizon and the Inquisitors started their manhunt, I wanted them to fear I might run so far and fast they would never catch me. It would force them to commit everything to my pursuit.


    It had taken me far too long to convince Dad to let me go alone. He had insisted on joining me in trying to find Uncle Hadrian so strongly, had stupidly kept on suggesting I go with him and Aunt Reya instead. It showed his foolish sentimentality. Me splitting off gave him a chance to escape the Inquisition, and he refused to take it. It had been as if he could not see that he would slow me down. Or maybe he wanted me near him, so that he could prevent me from indulging in senseless slaughter.


    I huffed, stuck my nose in the air, and sampled the night before I could get tempted to indulge that thought any further. I tucked my hair out of the way, positioned myself so that fewer trees obscured my view, and squinted up. The first of the two morning stars edged over the horizon. Its appearance in the sky meant we were already at the eleventh bell of night, with less than two bells to go before sunup.


    Without further hesitation, I ran. East tasted right. It was vaguely the same direction I¡¯d been heading before, and the terrain appeared to slope down a little that way. I changed directions several more times, choosing my course by alternating between whichever direction led vaguely downhill and where the landscape felt least wild.


    Predictably, heading for the most tame-looking valley brought me to civilization. I passed by the first little hamlet I encountered. I would have preferred to ignore the second one as well, but I doubted I¡¯d have time to reach the third one before dawn.


    With no time for second-guessing, I crept nearer to a small cluster of buildings. Once, it had been one of my most steadfast rules ¡ª never feed on humans. Now I had fed on dead Inquisitors. I had drained little Arrin in his dying moment. I had fed on Piers¡¯ corpse in front of his wife. The taboo was broken, and honestly, little changed. There wasn¡¯t even anything unique about their flavor. Humans tasted neither wrong nor better, not all that dissimilar from some other animals I¡¯d fed on. They were just another source of food. The only thing horrid about feeding on them was how disgusted people were by the idea.


    If I wanted to give Dad and Aunt Reya the best chance of escape, then feeding from an unsuspecting human gave them that chance. If I preyed on a person, openly, in a way the Inquisition couldn¡¯t hide, then they¡¯d need to commit absolutely everyone to tracking me down.


    Alas, Aunt Reya had expressly forbidden me from attacking people. She¡¯d taken me aside and warned me off it away from Dad¡¯s prying ears. How she had suspected my plan I could not tell, but she¡¯s always possessed this uncanny ability to read me. And foolish at this sentiment of hers was, it was her in charge of getting my dad to safety. If she insisted on taking the additional risk, then I would grant her that.


    At least this way there was no new transgression I would never be able to explain away. My dad, vastly sentimental, cared even for people he would never know in a way that I never could. If he ever found out I had initially planned to feed on yet another person, if he learned how little I still cared for his pathetic fellow humans¡­


    He¡¯ll never know.


    Aaaah, please let him never find out.


    So¡­ time to find a large animal ¡ª and not a human. I snuck from house to farmstead. There would probably not be any pigs. Almost everyone slaughtered theirs during fall so they¡¯d have fat and meat to last the winter. I hoped for a horse or a cow, or really any animal big enough to survive and cause a fuss.


    I had a bit of luck for once. There was a barn with a horse in it. The animal was asleep, calm, docile. I could simply walk up to it. My human mimicry was so good that even horses, cows, sheep, and any other domesticated animals accustomed to being prey simply accepted me as just another person. The horse remained perfectly at ease with my presence, even when I stroked her mane and rubbed her shoulder. When I wrapped my arms around her and laid my cheek on her neck, she stood meek and passive.


    Right up until I sunk my fangs in.


    Her panicked whinny broke the silent night. She trashed and bucked. I held on and drank. I wiggled my fangs as she writhed under me, making sure the puncture holes I left were nice and big. And when the first panicked farmer came rushing into the barn, I was long gone.


    I did not stay to observe the aftermath, but whoever stumbled upon that panic-stricken horse, their nightmares were only beginning. Everyone knew the stories about vampires, about the war in Ostea, about how the horrid monsters had razed an entire continent. Everyone knew ¡ª hoped, prayed ¡ª there were no vampires here in Thysa.


    A frothing horse with two very distinct puncture holes in the neck and a trickle of blood at the edges would shatter those illusions of safety. And all too soon, maybe in the morning, maybe a day after considering the distance involved, Inquisitors would show up, clearly in pursuit of someone.


    Or something.


    Those Inquisitors might try to hide the manhunt for the rogue vampire. Maybe they would only describe me as a weirdly feral young girl. Regardless, Inquisitors would follow my trail, and come to this village. A group of divine protectors, only seen when the vilest of monsters had to be slain, would show up right after a horse had been assaulted by a vampire. Rumors would spread, no matter how much the Inquisitors tried to deny.


    They would put all their effort into hunting me instead of my dad, because of how frightfully close I had come to attacking a human.


    For a fleeting moment, I felt sorrow. The horse I had assaulted was too much of a reminder of my own steed, Fern. I never drank from creatures so big I could not drink them dry. When I fed, my food always ended up dead, because the alternative was too horrid to consider.


    The only exception had been Aunt Reya¡¯s pig. The pig I had sipped from every other day while I stayed in Birnstead, so I did not need to go out hunting so often. The same pig the Inquisitors had slaughtered.


    I knew why they had killed it. I knew why I hadn¡¯t elaborated on it to Aunt Reya. It was for the same reason I had never fed from Fern. It was why, when cooking, I had steadfastly refused to sample the food I was preparing. It was why I always nursed the mug I drank from like a newborn babe until it was entirely empty.


    To most living things, my saliva was an insidious poison. Consumed or infused into the bloodstream, it bred a strange dependence. The afflicted would suffer when they went too long without, would seek my kind out like a bad addiction. They would do anything for their fix. And when the craving got particularly bad, through abstinence after repeated feedings, it became lethal. Someone properly enthralled, four to five days without a vampire, and then they were dead.


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    Maybe Reya was right after all, not letting me feed on a person. If I did that, if I made human thralls, they would never stop hunting me, no matter how far I ran. At least feeding from the neck of the horse had been a mercy. With all the arteries there it was a bloody, messy spot. With some luck, the poor creature would be spared the suffering of vampire withdrawal, and simply bleed out.


    I ran hard and fast, rushing far away from the settlement, the horse, and my thoughts of the horrendous suffering my kind could enact. This time I was careful not to leave a single trail. I only stopped running when the blazing Tonaltus of the rising sun forced me to seek refuge underneath an outcropping of rocks.


    I could have gone on. My amulet could protect me from the very worst of the sun, but sunlight still crippled me. During the day, I would be weak and miserable, in constant pain. Without a horse, long treks in the sun would be a relentless, debilitating drain on my Metzus, forcing me to feed much more often.


    It was something I had tolerated before, when I was pretending to be human, when I had been hiding right under the Inquisition¡¯s nose. Not anymore. I no longer needed to pretend to live on a daytime rhythm, but could roam the night at will. I no longer needed to fake sleeping, but could torpor when it suited me. I did not need to stuff myself with horrid, indigestible fruits and vegetables or overcooked meat. I did not have to hide my strength or my claws or my fangs. I no longer needed to care.


    The world knew what I was. I was on the run, fleeing both for my own life and that of those dear to me. And for the first time in forever, I was me. Fully and truly me. And it would be glorious.


    <hr>


    Every night, I ran. During the day, I rested, hidden in burrows, the crowns of firs or other dense evergreen trees, and sometimes even caves and crevasses if I managed to find any.


    Some days, I couldn¡¯t find cover soon enough or foolishly pushed a little further than was wise. On those miserable mornings, as I often did when suffering too much sunlight, I worried. Seeing Dad again¡­ it had confused me. More than a year apart, and I had been homesick. In quiet moments, with nowhere to go, I had longed for home. In that longing, dead-end thoughts had brought back memories of him. While stuck in the deepest darkest pit of that damned oubliette, I had prayed for his safety.


    And then he was there, and all of those suffocating years cooped up at home, with his constant overbearing watchfulness came rushing back. He looked my way and it reminded me of how he¡¯d always looked at me. Aunt Reya had embraced me, making it all the more startling how he never did. Suddenly there was this rift between the dad I had longed to return to, and the father I had always had.


    The worst part was that I knew. I had always known this was what he was like. I¡¯d just¡­ conveniently forgotten. Somehow, that made it even worse. I had lost a precious part of my dad ¡ª a part that might only have ever been there in rosy memories. I¡¯d probably never get it back. Nothing but a dumb, childish fantasy.


    This, in turn, made me question other childhood certainties as well. The first time I spent the day crumpled up in a badger¡¯s den recharging the runic circuits of my amulet, I wondered about that too. The craftsmanship was exceptional ¡ª a tangle of runic lines etched into it so dense it was nearly invisible to the naked eye. Such a concentrated weave must be interspersed with at least a dozen different durability enchantments as well. Otherwise, the delicate carvings would have broken long ago.


    I tried studying it, but the intricacy of it was far beyond my comprehension. It was not the kind of thing my dad could manage either. I didn¡¯t know anyone who could deliver this kind of expert work. I couldn¡¯t even think of any other use it had beyond protecting a vampire from the sun. This amulet, my most precious possession; it must have been made specifically for me.


    Why?


    Who?


    Uncle Hadrian again, or do I have even more mysterious benefactors?


    It was something I had wondered before, but the question had never lingered. It had never really seemed to matter. I had freedom with my amulet, and that was vital. It was irreplaceable, my dad had told me, and so I would lose that freedom if the amulet ever got damaged. That potential loss had worried me, and not much else. Now, never having worried about where it came from, or any other aspect of my childhood, seemed like such an oversight.


    Of course, there were the obvious measures we took to keep me safe. The middle-of-nowhere villages we stayed at. The out-of-the-way houses at the very furthest edge of town. My feigned sickness and frailty, the way we pretended that I was almost always bedridden so no one ever worried why I was rarely seen outside. How we moved every handful of years, so that no one would begin to wonder why I did not seem to age as everyone else did.


    None of that explained how we had arrived. How my dad had been smuggled back in despite no one ever returning from Ostea. How I had been smuggled back in. The absolute mad risk of bringing a baby vampire into Thysa, when no one knew how much of a threat I would be. Why my dad risked everything and kept risking it, despite how much he clearly feared me.


    There were a lot of unanswered questions. Uncle Hadrian would have a lot of explaining to do. Dad as well. The more I worried, the more sleepless days I mulled this over, and the more I began to suspect that he too hadn¡¯t told me everything.


    Three weeks and more I traveled. I cut a confusing, incomprehensible trail across the country, and kept that up long after I knew I was safe from pursuit. I could have been at my destination so much faster, but this was what we had agreed, together, and I was going to stick to the promise. Me and mine. Safe. It was better to go slow and make certain that the three of us remained safe than to rush headlong into danger to save a fourth person but sacrifice everything else.


    Even with so much time spent obfuscating my trail, little of it was truly wasted. Weeks and weeks of imprisonment had left me completely out of touch with the world. I could not afford that kind of ignorance, so after my initial bout of worrying I spent a lot of my idle time gathering information.


    I spent a day tailing a shepherd that liked to mumble all his worries to his herd. I perused the notice boards present in larger towns when no one was there to witness me staring at my own wanted posters. Hiding in the darkest shadows, in trees, and on top of high roofs, I listened in on conversations when people thought no one was looking. I discovered that the bottom of a town¡¯s central well was, while very cold and wet, nearly as good a hiding place as a cave, and that such a central gathering place was great for eavesdropping on town gossip.


    Once I got closer to the capital, I spent several nights sneaking into town after town, stealing basic clothes, gloves, boots, various trinkets, and a respectable amount of money. I cut my wild tangle of hair to a short and domestic bristle, even though it was more of a nightmare to keep it short than to have it long. I traded Aunt Reya¡¯s oversized hand-me-down shirt for a modest skirt and presentable cloak. I got myself a staff to hide my unsteady daytime gait, a coif to cover my hair and blend in with all the modest farmers¡¯ daughters, and a burden basket to have a reason to be out in winter. And only when I looked nothing like the feral child Valentina the wanted posters spoke of, did I show myself in public.


    The sun¡¯s baleful Tonaltus glare, the oppressively confining burden of my outfit, I tolerated it all. I hobbled into the last big town before the capital with a slight limp, leaning on my cane for support. It was a risk, that cane, but one I would need to live with. My coordination under the light of the sun was far from perfect. If I conserved my Metzus, then the only walk I could manage during the day was one where I tried not to look like a stumbling drunk. It was an obvious tell of my nature that anyone searching for me might be looking out for. I could not hide my unsteady gait for long, but maybe, just maybe, I could pass it off as a limp.


    There was a certain irony in hiding behind a human disguise mere weeks after my elation at being rid of it, but I would not let apprehension of the method distract me from my goal. I pushed my way through the uncharacteristic throng of people at the market, the densely nervous press of the crowd being an unusually good source of rumors.


    Very disturbing rumors, that for days now had been so consistent that I had to take them as fact. I went about my business with haste. Clamping down on my heightened senses and chewing my lip to rein in the overwhelming taste of so much clueless prey milling around me, I bought what I needed with my stolen money, and hurried back out of town.


    Nearly an hour later, after sundown and when the road I traveled was free of people, I veered into the bushes. Pushing through the thicket I first cursed the idiocy of long, constricting skirts, then the horrid not at all coincidental events that seemed to chase after me, and finally my own ill-thought-out plans.


    I knew my Uncle lived somewhere near here, but not where exactly. I merely knew it had not been the place I had just come from. I did not know the details of what he traded in. I did not know his last name. I did not know where he lived. I had known him all my life, and only now was it becoming clear how little I knew, how much he had deliberately hidden.


    Still, he was family, and I would do all I could to protect him. I sincerely hoped that him living near the capital had not been another lie, because then no amount of asking other merchants if they knew him would help me.


    I found myself a tree both far enough away from the road to be safe for me and close enough that I could keep track of the groups of people that would pass by. Tomorrow, when traffic towards the capital picked up again, I would join up with the first group of gullible idiots that happened to pass by. My disguise might not be all that good, but since everyone was looking for a lone vampire girl, a group would be the perfect way to get past the city gates.


    I pulled myself up, branch by branch, and nestled myself uncomfortably in the old, knotted wood crown. The sky darkened, and the first stars sparkled. Without the flimsy warmth of the sun, the temperature dropped. It became cold. Freezing cold. Dark clouds loomed overhead, promising either rain or snow. No sane person slept outdoors in weather like this. Except me. Vampire me.


    And even if I did not feel the cold like anyone else did, I still longed for warmth. Dad and Reya, even though they were heading here as well, would not have been able to travel as fast as I had. Days, maybe weeks remained before I would see them again. I longed for the comfort of their presence. Despite not needing it, pure yearning soon had me curl into a little ball and drift off into the closest approximation to sleep I could manage.


    Don¡¯t need to sleep.


    Really, really don¡¯t need to sleep.


    ¡®s still so nice sometimes.


    Yes, it was nice. That was all. And it was so much better than mulling over all that I had managed to overhear. About the total uproar that dominated every little hamlet and town around the capital. Irina had been right. Aunt Reya had been even more right. It wasn¡¯t just the Ostean Grand-Inquisitor that was heading for the port capital of Tormund.


    Everyone was in a frenzy because the vampires sent a delegation of representatives as well, supposedly to negotiate an end to the war.

 2.18 — Charm the Children

    The first signs of morning painted the branches of the tree I was sitting in a dark midnight black. In the distance, a blaze of gold crept over the valley. The tips of grasses and bushes colored a painted orange ¡ª shining all the brighter with their rears smeared in cold green shades of night. It was beautiful. And then the sun reached my eyes and turned the fields before me into little more than a vague blur of color.


    I swallowed, trying not to think of Nebby who had dragged me up the ¡®hill¡¯ to show me the sunset. It had been more of a mound of rocks and dirt than a hill. It had been pointless because I could not witness any of the splendor. Nebby had insisted it did not matter. She had been right. The best moments in life were about the friends you shared them with and the memories you took with you.


    All of these idle thoughts were nothing but more Birnstead reminiscing, painful reminders of a life that was no longer mine. I blamed this new bout of nostalgia on the file I was working up and down my claws, working away at the last hints of inhuman sharpness.


    Back in Birnstead, after yet another near-incident, Aunt Reya had demanded I dull them. I had growled at her, had angrily insisted that I couldn¡¯t. They¡¯d grow right back. She shouldn¡¯t just presume to know my own body better than I did.


    After an endless onslaught of her mockery, her maddening explanations about hair and nails and dead tissue ¡ª all idiocy because I was nothing but dead tissue ¡ª I gave in and experimented, just to prove her wrong. Infuriatingly, I ended up demonstrating she had been right, sort of. If I blunt them, and consciously, continuously focus on them being dull, then they actually remain somewhat blunted. It made no sense, and then they regained their sharpness as soon as I lost focus, which I understood even less.


    My father had wanted me to hide, to spend a lifetime pretending to be something I was not. I had tried it, and it had been miserable. Miserable enough that I had run from it. Yet even then, I had continued living by the lessons and truths learned under his roof, until Aunt Reya proved some of those truths wrong.


    It was her tirelessly mocking commentary that forced me to think beyond what Dad had thought I could do, beyond what he taught me about myself. It was Aunt Reya¡¯s insistence that pushed me to experiment, instead of merely hiding or denying. It was her guidance that really allowed me to be myself around the people of Birnstead. She gave me the courage to live, to claim and embrace my nature and my gifts, instead of endlessly fearing them.


    And then the Inquisitors arrived. Captured me. And just like that, the entire wonderful illusion came crashing down.


    I flexed my fingers, made a fist, flexed them again. Good enough. Realistically, dull or sharp made little difference. Even dulled, I still had nearly an inch worth of claw tipping my fingers. I still needed gloves to hide them. Yet now I would not be tearing through a set of gloves every other day simply because I wasn¡¯t being careful.


    As long as I keep thinking of them as dull.


    If I don¡¯t¡­ sharp again.


    Still need to work on that.


    With the emerging dawn, I turned my attention to the road. From my vantage point up in this lone tree, I studied it. Sitting perfectly still, my nose and ears tracked every sound, every stray breeze, every living thing that breathed and moved. Patiently, I waited for the perfect prey.


    A lone and weary male led an ox-pulled cart. He guided the old beast on with the gentle patience of a saint. The misty waft of earthen scents, hay and manure and produce, painted him as a farmer. A tempting target, but I waited for better prey. A heady melange of spices followed a chattering couple. I waited.


    Soon the scant individual travelers became a steady trickle. I kept up my vigil, unseen in my tree. I was in a hurry, but a couple hours more did not matter. The patient hunter gets the best prey, and I was nothing if not patient. The right opportunity would present itself eventually.


    Slightly before noon, I dropped to the ground. I donned my coif and my gloves, shouldered my burden basket, and collected my staff. I extended my Metzus strings, my true self, all throughout my puppet body, pushing a little more Metzus than usual. With a couple of quick steps and hops, I tested my daytime coordination. I pushed more Metzus to my limbs. Much more.


    With so much of it extended out from my core, the rays of daylight seared and burned the strings of my Metzus that much faster. Keeping this up for long meant I would not be feeding once every three to five days, but close to twice per day. For once, that cost was acceptable. I would be hiding in plain sight, in the most populous city in the kingdom, with everyone in it caught up in a mad vampire panic, and with the entire Inquisition hunting for me. I could not afford to display my usual stumbling gait, and the staff alone would not be enough.


    I sank my teeth into the dead rabbit I had saved for this occasion, drained it, and tossed it far into the field. Then I set out for the road. Once on it, I accelerated to a brisk walk, or the closest approximation of it I could manage at least. Occasionally, I still stumbled. That was fine. I could blame it on a poorly healed injury.


    My hands reached for the back of my head instinctively, itching to rebraid long hair that was no longer there. It was a nervous habit that I had tried to shake, but so far I had been unsuccessful. I would have to be more careful. Even simple things like old habits might give me away.


    It took a while, but I eventually caught up to my targets. A tiny flock of little snacks was settling down at the side of the road, ready to have their lunch. I slowed my pace, giving myself a little more time to study them, to make absolutely certain these were the people I wanted to use.


    In charge of the herd was a young female, wild and free as a plume of smoke reaching for the sky. Even though she herself barely tasted like more than a child, she was trailed by a gaggle of three little dumplings. There was equal parts exasperation and love in her sky-plume presence, and despite her three charges defying all attempts at being herded, the exasperation never won out on the care she displayed.


    They refused to be corralled, these kids, and yet she mothered them with care and worry. Impatient outbursts were shushed. Half-discarded clothes were quickly donned again. The complete unmanageability of it would have driven me utterly mad.


    Despite how the sky-plume girl was beset by kids, despite how harried by their antics she tasted, her herd of children never bore the brunt of her exasperation. Order was restored at last when she dealt scraps of stale old bread into eager, grasping hands. The rancid scent of the food repulsed even me, yet the nibbles all accepted it without question. The silence of hungry mouths being fed descended.


    It was this final detail that convinced me this herd of children served as the perfect prey. Their age made them trivially easy to blend into. The sky-plume girl acted so motherly even that, with an appropriate child-like demeanor from me, I might be able to manipulate her into extending that protective energy to me.


    At the same time, this group displayed a measure of back-alley smarts that would have them question every scrap of kindness. That would serve me as well. Instead of trusting over-quick and then second-guessing my intentions, they would doubt first. Once I¡¯d gained their hard-won trust, it would be far more unconditional.


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    Finally, they tasted so hungry and poor and weary that it had worn them down. They would be tired and drained to the point where they would not question my motives and kindness as much as had they been well-fed and alert. Yes, they were perfect manipulable targets.


    I dug through the little pouches at my waist, fishing out my own lunch. Close enough for them to spot me I made a show of looking out for a place to sit. I held this charade until I felt their attention on me. As soon as it did, my gaze appeared to wander and then settle on their group.


    Marching up to them with a bounding, youthful stride I waved a greeting. My overly familiar behavior created a brief moment of confusion which I exploited to close the distance. When I was only a few paces removed from them, I called out in my best childish pitch.


    ¡°Heeeey, mind if I join you for a bit?¡±


    There was a brief moment where they all looked at each other, trying to decide what to do with me.


    Ruthlessly, I abused that short absence of an answer. Before they could utter a refusal, I pretended to interpret the time they spent hedging their options as acceptance. Making some vaguely awkward sounds of gratitude to further sell my act, I settled down on the cold hard ground, directly to the right of the sky-plume girl.


    Despite there not being an outright refusal, I was still a stranger to them, and a very brash stranger at that. The girl, the child, the sky-plume snack froze in place. A hint of alarm colored her presence. It quickly spread to her nibbles, who picked up the mood of their guardian in the way children do.


    I played with my posture and features like the perfect mimic I am. Acting a little younger, a tad more innocent was trivial, especially with my childish frame painting the image of a perfectly unassuming farmer¡¯s daughter. Using the complete control I had over my expression, I crinkled my nose in mock bemusement. My lips twisted in a hopeful yet tight-lipped and toothless smile. My eyes grew a little wide and uncertain. I presented a flawless display of someone belatedly realizing they¡¯d approached a group of strangers without first considering if they could be trusted.


    And when the girl saw her own apprehension mirrored on my face, the edge seeped out of her. She gave a slow, acknowledging nod. Then a slight smile to match my own. At her approval, the worry seemed to ebb out of two of the three other kids as well.


    Only the third child, tasting of sweet nothings coated with crispy edges and damp with tear-stained resolve, remained unusually wary. She had grown an odd sort of flighty the second I sat down. It was one of the most conflicting scents I had ever tasted. She shrunk like a mouse hiding in a hole, yet radiated with the defiance of a badger defending its den. I was too blind in this daylight to catch her expression, but her gaze on me was so intense it was impossible to miss.


    And despite the three others appearing to accept me, they settled around this girl like a shield. I did not think they even noticed that they did this. It just happened, in posture and body language and the very taste of them coloring the frigid winter air. None of those things were anything the little human girl I pretended to be was supposed to notice, and so I ignored it all completely, merely rubbing my gloved hands together, pretending to ward off the cold.


    It worked. At my utter lack of reaction, the tenseness slowly left the sweet-nothing girl as well. I had gambled right. Hopefully.


    No matter where you went, most people were reasonably alright with meeting strangers. They brought news and tidings from faraway places. The less suited the weather became for traveling, the more people hankered for news. People wanted to be trusting and hospitable to travelers because they hoped to get the same treatment should they venture further from home than usual.


    Of course, all of this only really worked as long as you stayed among your social circle. I was dressed as simple folk, so I should not have tried this ruse with someone of higher standing. The current vampire situation made things more of a gamble though. It was another reason why I had chosen to mingle before entering the city. Better to judge the situation when the groups I had to deal with were still small and did not include town guards, soldiers, knights, or Inquisitors.


    I weighed my next words carefully because the actual ¡®bringing news¡¯ part of portraying myself as a traveler presented a bit of a problem. I had spent most of these past couple of weeks avoiding civilization, and while I had managed to inform myself somewhat, my knowledge of recent events was still choppy at best. I had little credible news to trade, and if I did not proceed with great care, then my ignorance of certain local events would become highly suspicious.


    ¡°Terrible weather, isn¡¯t it? Think it¡¯s going to snow today?¡± I spoke as I unpacked my lunch.


    ¡°Too cold for that. Soon though.¡± The sky-plume girl adjusted her seating to study me, a tiny lingering hint of suspicion still present in her posture.


    I took off a single glove, and careful to keep my uncovered claws hidden behind the folds of the hide, rubbed my hands together again. I blew some warmth into my fingers, then donned the glove again and repeated the process with the other hand.


    With all the vampire rumors floating around, people were probably trading all kinds of means to spot potential vampires. Them hiding their fangs and claws was probably one of them, but she had just seen my full hands, or at least she thought she had. It was amazing how the human mind could delude itself. I had done many of these things before, experimented with how far I could push things. It was a fun game. A nice little hunt. Never before had the risk been greater. And it would probably only become riskier.


    The girl visibly relaxed. ¡°You heading for the city?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, just passing through,¡± I lied. There was no need to clarify which city we were talking about. Tormund, the capital of Thysa, was the only one that mattered when you were this close to it.


    I took a bite from my lunch, opening my mouth just far enough that she thought she had seen normal human teeth, while in reality I had hidden everything behind my food. The dried nuts and berries in my meal were crunchy, gross, and utterly disgusting, but close to two months of learning to cook under Eryn¡¯s supervision had taught me more than ever not to let my disgust show. I was probably never going to appreciate human food, but at least I had learned to tolerate it enough by now that I could pretend to have regular meals in front of other people. I¡¯d probably still end up with indigestion from the inedible parts of this meal, but that was a small price to pay for safe passage into the city.


    ¡°Uncle¡¯s in a bit of a bind in the next town over. Hoping to get to him before the first snow hits,¡± I elaborated after I had swallowed, slathering my lies in a helpful dose of twisted truths. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°On the way back from some errands. We actually live in the city¡ª¡±


    ¡°Errands? This time of year?¡± I interrupted, displaying an air of incredulity. It was perhaps a little impolite of me, but I had selected this group specifically because they would probably tolerate some amount of impropriety. They were all young enough that me interrupting wouldn¡¯t bother them all that much. Their youth also meant they were hopefully inexperienced enough to not notice that I had essentially just asked them for their local tidings, instead of sharing my own.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± she nodded towards her proteges. ¡°Had to get some of these kids away from the worst of it after the vampire fleet made landfall.¡±


    After the what the what did what now!?


    When I¡¯d heard a vampire delegation was coming as well, I had assumed the Ostean Grand-Inquisitor would arrive accompanied by a small number of human representatives for the Ostean vampires. The rumors had been a little more colorful, of course.  The vampires hadn¡¯t come to negotiate, but to eradicate mankind. The regent has been turned. The capital lay in ashes. Some of the things I¡¯d heard had gotten fairly outlandish. I¡¯d disregarded all those ridiculous claims.


    But what the girl just said, that didn¡¯t sound like mad panicked ravings. Her matter-of-fact tone, so calm, so utterly ordinary, made it much harder to dismiss. Yet it still sounded every bit as absurd as the other rumors. The way she¡¯d phrased things hinted at a full-scale naval invasion. But that wasn¡¯t possible. The Ostean vampires were nothing more than scattered rogues. They weren¡¯t organized at that scale. They couldn¡¯t get past the blockade. They most certainly didn¡¯t have a naval fleet.


    Did they?


    No.


    Couldn¡¯t.


    I very, very, very carefully kept my face passive, then slowly let a hint of fear cloud my features. Over the course of slow, agonizing seconds I twisted my face into a look of horror I had seen of far too many people discussing the vampire rumors.


    And I prayed the maddest of rumors weren¡¯t true, because after this news, and after all the crazy things Irina had divulged weeks ago, I no longer trusted my sense of what counted as preposterous.

 2.19 — Peace Above

    ¡°Peace! Hah!¡±


    The sky-plume girl spat out the word peace with the same venomous hatred that people usually reserved for words like rape, or torture. In that single word she bundled all the indignation and fury she felt at the utterly preposterous idea of vampire envoys vying for peace.


    There was so much anger there. Her uncompromising tone promised no compassion, no forgiveness or hope, no chance of any consideration for my unusual circumstances should she ever find out. The last faint sliver of hope that I could ever find the same kind of acceptance I had received in Birnstead died.


    And why would I ever deserve acceptance anyway? After what the vampires had done to Ostea, there could be no mercy for those monsters. With how many I had slaughtered to get out of that cell, there was little difference between them and me.


    It was a strange feeling, to be hurt so deeply by a single word. Yet at the same time, I could only agree with her. Vampires were a plague beyond comparison. I nodded along as the girl vented her anger, encouraging her to continue.


    Relieved at being able to share her grievances, she broke into a rant. There was no way those despicable creatures wanted peace. They couldn¡¯t even be reasoned with. They had torn down everything we ever accomplished for Ostea and had plunged the continent into four decades of endless war. They had scoured away civilization, and had turned the place into an uninhabitable wasteland. Everyone there lived in constant fear of the savages, the night, and the dark itself. Vampires coming here meant horrors far beyond what anyone could imagine.


    And she was right, she wouldn¡¯t be able to imagine the horror of it. People thought they knew what a monster was, but most every creature labeled as a monster, from the aquatic ahuizotl to the hera wyrm and even the earthworm mimixcoa, was merely ordinary wildlife. They only get aggressive when their territories happen to overlap with human lands, or when people threaten their nests. They were animals that got the label when them eating livestock or harvest became inconvenient.


    But truly unnatural creatures, real horrors like ash hounds, most people had no idea what they could do. And vampires would be even worse, with human intelligence, cunning, and predatory intent. The mere idea of negotiating with them was delusional. Perhaps the situation was even worse than Aunt Reya thought. Maybe we weren¡¯t just losing the war, maybe we had already lost it, and this was nothing but a clever ruse to hide that.


    While the girl continued her angry tirade, I meekly hunched in on myself and only devoted enough attention to her to nod along at the appropriate moments. From time to time, I took careful, measured bites from my food. And I thought of more important things. When Inquisitor Sung had questioned me, did he already know about the vampire envoys? Did Irina? Had she hidden that from me? Did Uncle Hadrian know?


    If Irina knew, then her insistence I stay hidden made even more sense now. The vampires were here, right on everyone¡¯s doorstep. They were perfect at blending in, and so everyone would flinch at the slightest hint of strangeness. I fought the fidgety, anxious feeling that made me want to bounce my leg. Finding my Uncle and getting him somewhere safe, it would be the greatest hunt of my life. Nerve-wracking and exciting, but I couldn¡¯t let it show. My disguise, my ruse, my pretend-humanity would have to be perfect.


    ¡°So,¡± I asked when the wild-smoke girl¡¯s angry ranting finally lost a bit of steam, ¡°you took an errand to get away from the mess in the city for a bit, and took the kids with you?¡±


    Feigning interest is an excellent way to get people to trust you. Allowing someone to rant at you about something they were passionate about is enough to get them to like you a little more. It even meant I didn¡¯t need to talk to sky-plume myself, just listen. Now all there was left for me to do was charm her gaggle of kids. With her trusting me a little more already, and with them mirroring that trust, that would be trivial.


    ¡°Yeah, well, any job done is money earned,¡± she said. ¡°With all that¡¯s going on, we can use a little extra silver to feed these hungry mouths. If we don¡¯t get some money saved while we still can, it¡¯s going to be a rotten mess. Especially if it¡¯s a long winter.¡± She turned towards her charges with a wistful sense of despair and sighed hopelessly. ¡°It is going to be a long winter¡­¡±


    As if summoned by her words, two little stomachs grumbled their need for sustenance.


    I glanced over, pretending that I could see what was going on. Both the sky-plume girl¡¯s misery and the apparent hunger of her kids made this the perfect moment to feign sympathy.


    All three of her little nibbles were far too young and lean and hungry to be out running errands this close to the heart of winter. Yet they were out, and that vulnerability was exactly why I chose this group. In response to their hungry looks, I glanced at the sad remains of my meal, pretended to debate with myself, and then tore chunks of my food. Making sure I only presented parts that did not have my saliva on them, I passed the scraps to the three other kids.


    There was a moment¡¯s hesitation. It lasted far shorter than I thought it would. The sweet-nothing girl ¡ª the one who was so suspicious of me earlier ¡ª snatched the first chunk out of my hand and handed it out to the youngest, a little nibble of a boy of maybe six or seven, tasting of fresh clotheslines in a noisome and shady back-alley. The second bite she plucked out of my hand she passed on to the oldest sibling, whose entire presence was a roiling mess of confusing signals, all iron and salt and virgin squared defiance.


    While I parceled out the remains of my meal, the Sky-plume girl whipped her head from me to the kids and back. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t you go spoiling them now.¡± Then back to the kids. ¡°Oi! Oi oi! What are you supposed to do if people give you shit!¡±


    ¡°Rob them blind!¡± came the immediate reply from the back-alley clothesline nibble.


    A wave of frustration and embarrassment wafted from the sky-plume snack. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. I¡¯m trying to take care of these brats but¡­ just watch your pouch and I¡¯ll um¡­ you actually entering the city? I could pay your gate fee?¡±


    ¡°Really, there¡¯s no need,¡± I protested, knowing that her offer to pay the entry fee meant I had achieved my goals. I now had a group to enter the city with, to vouch for my integrity, and to ensure the gate guards did not pay me undue attention.


    We talked. We got to know each other ¡ª I, them, and they, an entirely fabricated version of me that was designed to maximize their sympathy for me. I hated every moment of it. They all reeked horribly, as if they hadn¡¯t bathed or washed in weeks. I had to converse, something I was terrible at even when faking it. And worst of all, the entire time I had to pretend to be a dumb child.


    We finished our lunch and then we were all ready to go again. The gaggle of kids hopped up and jumped around, ready to expend their excess of youthful energy. The sky-plume girl reluctantly forced herself back into motion, with the weariness of someone already looking forward to the end of the day even though it was barely past noon. I clambered to my feet as well, with the help of my staff, and explained away my awkwardness as an old injury acting up in this cold weather.


    The oldest sibling, the Squared-defiance one, helped get everything into some semblance of organization and then we were on our way. The road stretched ahead, fields and farmland on either side. The first hint of salt and ocean colored the air. My Uncle and answers were now so close I could almost taste them. And three little kids darted around me, the sky-plume girl, and the other travelers on the road.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Fenne, by the way,¡± Sky-plume mom introduced herself. ¡°Sorry. Kind of forgot to do the introductions.¡± She gestured towards her kids in turn. ¡°Tam, Addy, and Eli.¡±


    ¡°¡®s fine,¡± I assured her. ¡°You¡¯ve got a lot to manage.¡± I tilted my head towards the kids. ¡°Name¡¯s Rem.¡±


    Remembering everyone¡¯s name on top of the fake name I had just given was going to be such a pain. I tried to get them all straight in my head. Sky-plume mom is Fenne. The Squared-defiance oldest sibling is Tam. The flighty-fierce Sweet-nothing girl is Addy. And Eli is the mouthy back-alley clothesline nibble. All of this would be so much easier if I wasn¡¯t so blind, if I didn¡¯t have to first associate names with scents and then link those to people. Because one of these days I was going to mess it up, and accidentally address someone by their taste.


    ¡°Thanks, by the way.¡± Fenne gestured towards the sweet-nothing girl. To Addy.


    ¡°For what?¡±


    ¡°Well, you know, most people aren¡¯t as kind to Osteans like her.¡±


    If she¡¯s from Ostea, how did she get¡ª


    Oh no¡­ she¡¯s not Ostean, she¡¯s a native.


    This explained her unique taste, the way she was so intensely wary of me, and how the other kids had huddled around her protectively. They had thought I had picked them to sit down with because I wanted to hurl insults at the little savage.


    There weren¡¯t many of them left these days. When Ostea got ugly, everyone had dumped their charity-hired servants, and they hadn¡¯t fared well since. Even then, I could usually tell who was of native descent since they were ignored in disdain, or weaved around out of wariness. But here, sun-blind as I was, I hadn¡¯t noticed her features, and I hadn¡¯t even been able to guess because these kids all treated her like a normal person. Now, even if this changed my opinion of her, I couldn¡¯t let it show.


    I suppressed a frown and merely shrugged instead. Perhaps I could still use my suspicious and unusual acceptance of this native to my advantage. These kids were clearly happy to finally encounter someone who did not judge on appearances.


    Maybe these people aren¡¯t so bad if they¡¯re taking care of a native as just another sibling.


    Probably aware that we were talking about her, the little thing siddled right up to me and gave me a little hug. Then she skipped ahead again.


    ¡°Addy!¡± Fenne shouted.


    ¡°Yeeeees?¡± The little thing spun on her heels and continued walking.


    ¡°Check your pockets,¡± Fenne instructed me.


    I did, remembering how the mouthy clothesline nibble had enthusiastically shouted ¡°rob them blind¡± earlier. It would not surprise me if these street kids supplemented their normal income with pickpocketing.


    It was hard to feel around in all my little pouches with gloves on, but I managed. I was missing a knife. A knife that a very guilty feeling sweet-nothing honey-cake snack deposited into her sky-plume mom¡¯s outstretched hand. The savage really was a little rat. A sneaky sweet-nothing thief.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be hard on her.¡± Fenne handed me the knife and shook her head. ¡°She really can¡¯t help it. Doesn¡¯t even know she¡¯s doing it half the time. It is setting a bad example for Eli though.¡±


    I glowered at the kid and resisted the urge to reach for the amulet around my neck, to ascertain that it was still there.


    Thief.


    Sweet-nothing is a bloody klepto-cake.


    The little klepto-cake shriveled in on herself under my gaze, and I quickly looked away, mumbling an apology as a guilty blush warmed my cheeks. No matter the reservations I had about this development, I needed to keep up my harmless farmers-daughter act. I still needed their help to get into the city. I could not let my real personality slip through simply because of one harmless act of pickpocketing.


    The awkward moment soon forgotten, we continued on with a cold winter breeze at our back, the first seagulls circling overhead, the rotten stench of too many people living far too close together in the air, and the dark haze of probably-city-walls at the horizon.


    The companionship of Fenne and her troupe of slightly younger kids made the walk surprisingly enjoyable. And yes, I did consider Fenne a child. She might have been older than her charges but not by much. She was probably just over half my apparent age, somewhere between Shae and Nebby maybe, and far too young to be running around with three other kids in tow.


    ¡°You alright, Rem?¡± Sky-plume Fenne asked me.


    Something must have shown on my face for her to ask that. ¡°Yeah, just memories,¡± I replied, a hint of bitterness seeping into my voice despite my best attempts. Memories of happier times that should have remained buried. They kept plaguing me, refusing to rest.


    The two youngest children, Addy and Eli, soon cheered me up with wild tales of their daily adventures. Apparently, they were all orphans of some kind. Fenne and a boy named Call were taking care of them. It was clear they had trouble getting by though. Some of the narrated exploits, the ones that Fenne seemed less comfortable about, made me assume the errands Fenne had previously mentioned weren¡¯t always perfectly legal.


    Closer still to Tormund, even tales of wild exploits couldn¡¯t keep the mood up. The three nibbles clung a little closer to me and Fenne. The handful of travelers turned into dense clusters of people pointedly ignoring each other. If anyone did look up, it was only for a nervous, furtive, sometimes even downright suspicious glance at the other travelers on the road. There was none of the usual amiable greetings and conversation exchanged between strangers. Even Fenne began talking in hushed whispers. And despite it being early in the afternoon, a late hour to set out on a journey, the mass of people leaving the city seemed to swell instead of slow.


    Approaching the gates, I had never before seen such a crowd of people so close to panic. The throng was like a herd of sheep that sensed the wolf was near, but did not quite know where the predator would strike. I found myself growing tense along with everyone else. The kids huddled around us, because we all felt it. The brittle nervousness was everywhere, only barely constrained by a veil of propriety, only one unfortunate incident away from being unleashed.


    It set my teeth aching. I licked my lips in anticipation, then reined in that nervous gesture before it could betray me. Any moment now, there would be a startled bleat, a confused chorus of cries that rose in response, a panic that rippled out from the epicenter, a terrified herd that rushed away from where the predator had struck.


    I tried to tell myself I was the only real predator in this herd of humans. It didn¡¯t help. I kept on wondering. What if there was another? What if there really was another vampire here, poised to strike?


    We joined the few frightened humans queuing up to enter a city that everyone else seemed to want to leave. The line moved quickly. Fenne paid an entry fee for herself and two kids, then ushered all of us past her. The guards didn¡¯t even notice that the amount paid did not match the number of people entering, they were too busy monitoring the throng of people trying to leave.


    No one questioned my reasons for visiting the city. There were no Inquisitors studying the faces of all who entered, checking if any of the new arrivals was the fugitive girl Valentina Bryce. No one cared if vampires tried to get in, because they were already in and everyone was rushing to leave.


    Once through the gate, we ran into an absolute exodus of people, all drumming to get out first. There was screaming and shouting. We tried to stick to the edges of it, but then I received a shove. My face collided with someone''s armpit, and I breathed their delicious heady panic. When I pushed off I was surrounded from all sides. The prey was everywhere and it was all prey.


    So much food. All those exquisite frightful aromas. I breathed hard, fast. I had to get their taste out of my nose but for that I needed to exhale and then I needed to inhale again because if I didn¡¯t pretend to breathe then one of these meals would realize what I was. I had expended such an inordinate amount of Metzus to hide my unsteady gait, and there was so impossibly much food here.


    A hand clamped on my shoulder, pulled me along. My face snapped towards my assailant and I hissed. Sky-plume sweat and panic entered my nose and I twisted my hiss into a panicked hacking. Delicate sweet-nothing hands clung to my waist and I snapped a hand around a clothesline-thin wrist in turn. Then, as suddenly as we had been in it, we were out of the press of people.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± I heaved, catching a breath I did not need to catch. ¡°I can see why you wanted to get the kids away from this.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I should have warned you.¡± The Sky-plume-blood spewed a stream of rapid apologies. ¡°I thought you knew how bad it was.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, just a little overwhelming, that¡¯s all,¡± I tried to dismiss her concern.


    I had been in cities before. It was always uncomfortable. The sheer stench of it, the taste of so much cattle so ripe for the taking always got me close to the edge of losing control. But this, this was something else entirely. This was food. This really was a hunt like no other, except it wasn¡¯t mine and I was right in the middle of it. It was exhilarating beyond words. I needed this. I needed it so much.


    Won¡¯t. I won¡¯t.


    Control.


    ¡°Want to follow us to our place?¡± Fenne offered.


    I pretended to study the crowd as I thought about that offer. I didn¡¯t have time for this. I needed to get to my Uncle before this entire city and the surrounding hamlets exploded into a massacre of unseen proportions. But I was also pretending to be Rem, a poor farmer¡¯s daughter looking for her uncle. Rem would be rattled by these dense crowds and tense atmosphere. Rem would need some time to calm down. Rem would trust the people she¡¯d already met. In the end, I nodded at Fenne. I¡¯d follow her for a little while, then break from her group and find my own way.

 2.20 — Seven Tries, Seven Failures

    Fenne dragged me and her kids away from the gate, down one turn and then another. At first, the streets we traversed were wide, bright, and sunny. Those were nothing but blurs and shades of color to me, nothing but motes of light and dark. Most of the time it was impossible to tell if one of those bright splotches was a whitewashed wall, a ray of sunlight peeking out between the shadows, or the glare of flame casting warmth into the cold winter day.


    It was debilitating, like all my first moments in a bigger city are. Then old instinct and far more familiar senses took over where my eyes were lacking. The city brimmed to life with sounds and scents, subtle shifts of temperature, and the warm pulse of the food drumming through its passages. In little middle-of-nowhere places like Birnstead I needed to feel my way forward. Not so in cities. I merely need to follow in the footsteps of my food.


    We weaved through ever narrower alleys. Stone and wood became just wood. Then wood and canvas. Cobblestone streets turned into mud tracts. The sky shrank until it was nothing but a suggestion hidden behind overhangs so ratty that it was a miracle they didn¡¯t fall straight on our heads.


    And the stench. The stench. Dirt and piss and shit and prey and blood and boils and open sores and misery living on the street. It was like the hole I had crawled out of all over again but here everyone lived like that.


    I hadn¡¯t really paid attention to how Fenne and her kids were dressed. Out on the road I had been blind so all I had been able to discern was that they were garbed in simple clothes and reeked absolutely foul and it had been enough.


    Now, in the perpetual darkness of these slums pressed and stacked against the walls of the city, I could see. They wore rags and scraps, patched and mended and patched all over again in a desperate attempt to keep covered and sheltered from the elements. Fenne herself was covered most sparsely of all, clothing clearly a luxury reserved for her flock of children.


    And I, dressed clean and properly, had made her pay for my entry fee. I wanted to flush crimson with embarrassment. I could not because even though the real me had not noticed, the Rem I pretended to be had known exactly how they looked from the moment I had laid eyes on them on the road.


    ¡°You sure you¡¯re alright, Rem? You¡¯re limping more than before.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m fine. Just an old injury. Walked a little too much today.¡± I beamed a toothless smile at Fenne. ¡°Word for the wise, if a raki is after the sheep, don¡¯t try and save the animals.¡±


    Right, now I¡¯d have to remember that lie as well.


    ¡°A raki!¡± Noisome-clothesline Eli cheered, as if facing down fierce beasts was the greatest thing ever. He produced a piece of wood from who-knows-where and began charging at Tam with it. ¡°You will not fell me, foul beast, for I am Inquisitor Eli!¡±


    A little later, Fenne held open a piece of cloth for me. ¡°Welcome to our little place, it¡¯s not much but¡­¡± She sighed. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not much.¡±


    Fenne was right to stop at ¡°it¡¯s not much¡±. The hole she wanted me to crawl into wasn¡¯t a home. It was half a wall, and three-quarters of a tent cobbled together from a collection of moth-infested tatters and rotting driftwood.


    I scrunched up my nose and considered ditching them right there. Fenne had led me straight to the absolute worst slum in the city. It was the kind of place where someone dressed merely modestly poor like me did not survive for long. Any moment now someone would rob the very clothes from my body, or slit my throat, or take me for ransom, or cut out my organs for some purpose I did not even want to consider.


    I¡¯d¡­ have to figure out how to not act suspect when someone inevitably drove a blade into one of my kidneys.


    As if summoned by my worries, a boy barely older than Fenne, wreathed in a raven-feather-slick haze of tobacco and alcohol, ambled up behind me. From the corner of my eyes, I saw his greedy, agitated eyes measuring me before his gaze settled on Fenne. ¡°Fenne? Who is this?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a friend, Call,¡± Fenne answered in a soothing tone as she approached the boy. ¡°Met her on the road.¡±


    ¡°A friend, Fenne? A friend?¡± The raven-feather boy gesticulated in my direction. This child pretending to be a man reacted so agitated it was clear he sought conflict. ¡°Do you even know this person? Have you any idea how it is out there?¡±


    ¡°I do, Call. I just came from there. We have a guest. Please behave?¡± Fenne asked.


    I refused to become a part of this prey¡¯s attempt to feel important. I took a step back and inhaled deeply, suffering past the wretched stink of this squalid dump to catalog my surroundings. My right side had the fewest people likely to take this boy¡¯s side and cut me off, so I inched that way.


    ¡°A guest?¡± The snack spat at the ground. ¡°There¡¯s vampires everywhere, Fenne. They¡¯re here, they¡¯re coming for us, and no one is doing anything about it. How do you know she isn¡¯t one?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not, Call. I know she isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Is she now?¡± The boy ignored Fenne¡¯s pleading, moved to cut me off, and pressed himself so close to me I had to back up against the flimsy drape of cloth that served as their door. ¡°Prove it, girl. Show me your teeth.¡± The boy sneered at me. ¡°Just a simple test, that¡¯s all. Show me you¡¯re not hiding fangs behind those lips. If you¡¯re not one of them then you¡¯ve got nothing to fear.¡±


    The filthy excuse for a human thought he could crowd me, so I pulled him even closer and snarled right back at him. ¡°Give me your hand!¡± Not giving him the time to process, I grabbed his wrist and wrested his hand up in front of my face.


    He tried to wrench free, a weak pull that did not use his full strength. Surprise flooded his scent when that didn¡¯t even budge me. He pulled harder, a heavy yank with his full body weight behind him.


    Instead of resisting, I tripped him with a foot hooked behind his heel. Then, using his own momentum to flip our positions, I slammed him against the driftwood and cloth wall. The whole rickety structure nearly collapsed from the impact.


    These were his slums. His territory. But I had seen right through him. The anger and swagger he projected didn¡¯t extend to his taste. The air of alcohol and smoke that clung to his tattered clothes did not permeate his sweat. And his first tug to free his wrist had been gentler than it should have been. He was but a juvenile imitating meanness he¡¯d witnessed somewhere else in an attempt to intimidate.


    Hah! Poor pathetic little thing, considering these slums your territory.


    You¡¯re but prey, and this perpetual dark is more my domain than it will ever be yours.


    With him still reeling, I twisted his palm towards me, and then I pulled on the Atlus deep inside me. I untangled a tiny thread of the magic from my core, pushed it out, and weaved it through his hand. It was not a spellweave, it wasn¡¯t even a proper weave at all. It was simply magic flowing through him, and as he felt it pass his flesh, I let go.


    ¡°What¡­ what was that?¡± He ducked away from me, cradling his hand.


    ¡°Tonaltus,¡± I lied. ¡°As your hand didn¡¯t explode all over my face, you¡¯re not a vampire.¡± I pressed even closer and glared up at him. ¡°And since I just cast that on you, I¡¯m not a vampire either.¡±


    Those were bold lies, but they were backed by some measure of truth. Pushing Tonaltus through someone was a perfect way to spot vampires. Trained practitioners, like an Inquisitor, could even do it with a simple touch. Back in Birnstead, a trained mage had come by to assist in the healing of a man whose leg I¡¯d had to amputate. I had been very careful to not let him touch me that time.


    Of course I had not weaved Tonaltus but Atlus. This boy had no training in magic, so he would not be able to tell the difference. I could weave Tonaltus if I really wanted to. Doing so would be agonizing though, so I avoided it.


    My lies were further supported by a common belief that vampires could not cast Tonaltus at all. Back in Birnstead, the revelation that I had used healing magic ¡ª Tonaltus based ¡ª on the amputee had nearly broken Rafe, the man in charge of the village. And that was before I had accidentally mentioned that I had once slept in a monastery, a place with a natural Tonaltus field.


    There were a lot of false assumptions like this circulating about vampires. They persisted even when anyone who spent half a thought on magic theory could spot the holes in those false beliefs. Considering the panic sweeping through this city I could even understand why people so stubbornly believed in these falsehoods. Vampires turned even scarier once you realized many of the easy ways to spot and kill them could be circumvented.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    I learned from Dad that there are a lot of things about vampires the Inquisition knows that the common people do not. They deliberately keep that information from the populace. And people in turn are happier not thinking it through, happier to be ignorant. The reasons were obvious, and all too apparent in this city. Mass panic. If people learned vampires could deceive everyone as easily as I had just misled this boy, there would be so much more of it.


    Hi, here¡¯s a vampire. Everything that you think keeps them away, it really doesn¡¯t.


    Yaaaay!


    ¡°You¡­ you can do that?¡± The raven-feather boy stammered. With a tiny bit of force, and a hint of manipulation he¡¯d swallowed my lies, never even having verified my teeth.


    I gave him a shove and turned my back on him, flipping my hair in a gesture of ultimate haughtiness. It would have probably come over better if I hadn¡¯t cut it short. ¡°Word of advice: asking to see someone¡¯s teeth in a dark and enclosed location with no way out isn¡¯t smart. That¡¯s their domain. What are you going to do if you find out they have fangs?¡±


    Maybe this was breaking a little far from my Rem persona, but damn, did it feel good to put this child in his place.


    ¡°You¡¯re not from here, are you?¡± The boy growled, a weird blend of defiance and admiration creeping into his voice. ¡°Easy for you to preach to us and wave your magic about. It¡¯s not your place going to shit. I am not backing down.¡± He pushed off from the wall. ¡°They¡¯re the gods-damned monsters invading our homes, and I am not going to let them take another inch from us.¡±


    ¡°Place I¡¯m from doesn¡¯t matter. A whole ocean didn¡¯t stop them. No city walls will.¡± I let my shoulders drop, my posture slouch, and shook my head. Anything to display that I felt the same despair he felt, while still making it clear that I was not going to join a shouting match. ¡°I¡¯m leaving, Fenne. Thanks for the invite but¡­ I¡¯ve still got things to do. It was wonderful meeting you all though.¡±


    Fenne nodded demurely, her arms wrapped protectively around her gaggle of children. ¡°It¡¯s alright. Hope to see you around.¡±


    Getting into an argument with these kids¡¯ father, or whatever the relationship was, in front of their home had not been smart. Fine, these were slum kids. They had probably seen worse. Much worse. But that didn¡¯t mean I needed to add to their negative experiences.


    The sweet-nothing honey-cake surprised me though. She harrumphed, kicked her dad in the shin, and then beamed a smile at me.


    In response, I got down on one knee and opened my arms to her. Without hesitation, she barrelled into me. I never give hugs. Too dangerous. Tender little necks too close for comfort. But this was an exception. It was not me being sentimental. I simply needed more ways to track down my Uncle.


    I could exhaust a lot of other options first, but if those didn¡¯t turn up any leads then I¡¯d have to dive into the seedier parts of the city. I did not know where to start with that. Aunt Reya might, but she probably wasn¡¯t here yet. Fenne would have some connections at least. They were probably the worst kind of people imaginable, drunk and useless louts, but it might still be better than the complete nothing I would have to start with if I did things on my own. I really hoped it wouldn¡¯t come to that though. Even if I never saw that slick raven-feather Call again it would be too soon.


    After the hasty embrace, I patted the native girl on the head and got up. ¡°You take care of your siblings, okay Addy?¡± Without waiting for a reply, I walked away from their little family.


    The last I heard from behind me was Call hollering at Fenne. ¡°Rot and ruin, Fenne. I don¡¯t know where you found that firecracker, but I like her.¡±


    I shuddered, then shelved all thoughts of the raven-feather annoyance, and weaved from questionable alley to dubious passage for a couple extra turns before I managed to find my way out of the worst of the slums.


    Away from the perpetually miserable part of the city, the strange, anxious atmosphere once more dominated. Every third business seemed closed. Half of the little stalls looked abandoned. Most people out on the streets were restive, flighty even. Conversations were held in muted tones. Children sat quietly together as if they had just been reprimanded into timidity instead of playing. Even the shouts of stall owners advertising their wares seemed lesser, somehow.


    Tense city guards loitered on every other thoroughfare, projecting an air of grim unapproachability. Teams of three Inquisitors each roamed the streets. It was an impressive display of might that only made the city feel even less safe to be in. So far, no one seemed to recognize me from the wanted posters. My disguise would hopefully hold up if I did not draw attention to myself.


    I found a place to stay the night. Then I found another place when the owner of the first one asked to see my teeth. I hoped that wasn¡¯t going to be a common occurrence. It would become suspicious if I had to keep finding excuses and ways around these requests.


    With the basket and most of my other travel props left in a cheap, shared room, I dove into the nervously empty streets once more. ¡°I¡¯m looking for something for the midwinter feast,¡± I asked the first reputable clothier I still found open. I had to try three more places before I found one that offered fancier dresses from stock instead of offering to tailor them, and that did not insist on measuring the fit right then and there and have me come back for it the next day.


    The woman I bought from was affronted that I took the blandest thing she had on offer. I did not care. I wasn¡¯t really looking for an actual midwinter feast dress, but merely an outfit that looked fancy enough that I could walk around in the wealthier parts of town without everyone wondering what the farmgirl was doing there. And no, the woman had not heard about a master Hadrian.


    A quick trip to the inn to change into my new dress ¡ª thankfully no one of my roommates was present to see me change ¡ª and I was off again. Properly outfitted, slipping into the wealthier merchant districts of the capital was a matter of measuring on the haughty, self-assured expression of a servant running an important errand for their master.


    Tormund was the very heart of Thysa. Anyone who held any kind of power in this country, from the highest nobles to the titled lords who held a seat on the Regency Council, lived here. Even staying away from the grand stone mansions, the walled estates, the prestigious monuments, the palaces; and the Academy district, I could still learn so much.


    The rumors told me the arrival of the Osteans had essentially shut down the harbor. Ungrateful laborers had abandoned their work and were organizing protests. No one was doing enough to kick the vampire delegation out: city guard too busy harassing people, Inquisitors parading the streets instead of doing their job. And of course everyone accused everyone else of colluding with the vampires; it was all the fault of the homeless, some rival noble or faction, the Academy because no one trusts a scholar, the entire regency council, the Hatresans and the Abernese since they weren¡¯t sending enough of their own Inquisitors to Ostea.


    And the most startling rumor of all: the useless brother of the great Lord Sung had received an unearned promotion and was now the Inquisitor tasked with the protection of the Ostean Grand-Inquisitor. This ¡®useless brother¡¯ could only be the Ereldin Sung who had been my jailor.


    And not a word about a fugitive girl or a rogue vampire in the countryside. Maybe this meant the Inquisition really was too preoccupied with the whole mess here. Maybe I was no longer a priority. I could only hope.


    Meanwhile; I tried yet another store, this one squeezed in between two stately buildings. ¡°Kind sir, my father has asked me to pick something up from a merchant, but I fear I may have misremembered his directions. Could you perhaps point the way to master Hadrian?¡±


    Seven tries, seven failures. I had been convinced it was simply a matter of asking around, but I was slowly beginning to despair. All I had was a name, and if that did not get me anything, then I could only hope that Uncle Hadrian hadn¡¯t also lied about where he lived. Or maybe he¡¯d done worse and even used a fake name with us.


    Yes, I was making myself mighty suspicious with all these questions. And while all of them had been to different people having nothing to do with each other, it would probably only be a matter of time before word got out that I was asking weird questions and someone began stringing things together. None of that mattered, as long as I remained one step ahead.


    If there was one thing I had learned from my time hunting monsters, it is that once confusion and panic sets in, you strike fast and hard. And here, for once, I did not even need to create that panic first. The arrival of the vampire representatives had already done that for me. The city might not be my usual hunting grounds ¡ª it was decidedly Aunt Reya¡¯s, considering her past ¡ª but at least these basic principles still carried over from the wilderness.


    The next man I asked, one of the few stall-holders that had not yet finished packing up for the day, gave me a very suspicious stare. ¡°Hadrian? Isn¡¯t he the spice merchant from Dergrave? The one that got picked up by the Inquisition? Nasty mess. Had never expected him of all people to be involved with the vamps.¡±


    ¡°Spices? No no no, I¡¯m here for an elogi,¡± I deflected hastily. ¡°Musical instrument? Imported from Hatreso?¡±


    Divine¡¯s dung, this was going to come back to bite me. He had been arrested, and I had been asking all over for him. What was I thinking? That I was ahead of the Inquisition? They knew as much as I did. And while I had been running all over the countryside to shake pursuers, Sung had probably come straight here. No, he didn¡¯t even need to travel here to initiate the investigation. He could have sent a bird with instructions. Capturing my Uncle had probably gotten him that promotion.


    I needed to get off the street. I needed a plan. I had to get to Dergrave. I needed to check if Aunt Reya and Dad had arrived. I needed to think. I needed to check out the docks and figure out why the entire harbor had shut down. But most of all I needed to stop panicking, so I reoriented and changed direction towards the harbor to do that last thing.


    I ran into a barricade, manned by angry-looking guards and everything, so I took the next street. Another barricade. The docks were blocked. All of the docks were blocked and the people ensuring it stayed that way were giving me the most suspicious of glances, their fear plain to taste in the empty night air.


    Empty.


    Night.


    Sard!


    This was winter. Barely evening and the sun was already down. The streets deserted because vampires were out in the dark and everyone was gods damned fearing for their life. And here I was, alone, in the dark, still out and about, completely oblivious to that because I did not fear vampires like everyone else did.


    Aaaah¡­ get your head in the game, Vale!


    Could I be any more suspicious?


    I ducked into an alley, and then another. Darker. Narrower. Danker. The slums. The city wall. Sard it, I was already screwed and I was out of time. The rickety plating that served as the side of a shack presented a convenient foothold. A low roof was a running leap away. From there I bounded to another higher roof right next to the city walls. Tearing my gloves and boots off, I dug my claws into stone, scaling the imposing fortifications as effortlessly as walking.


    A shout. Someone, somewhere noticed me. They were too late. I was up and over before anyone could mount a response. I hit the ground on the other side of the wall with a roll, and then I was gone, hidden in another dark and cloudy night.


    Dergrave. If my vague understanding of the surroundings was right, that town was only a little under three hours away by foot. A person running the entire distance could probably do it in a little over one hour. I was not human. I did not tire. I¡¯d manage in less than half that.


    I had to know, before word of my presence could reach the Inquisition.


    I ran.

 Temporary Hiatus - taking care of my mom

    Hi everyone,


    You''re all probably wondering why there haven''t been updates in a while. Long story short, my mom had a nasty accident. This has temporarily promoted me to primary caregiver while she recovers. I''ve had to put my entire life on hold for the past couple of months for this, and that includes writing and editing Vale.


    My mom is a lot better already, but the road to recovery remains a long one. So this temporary hiatus will probably continue for a while still. I hope to get back to writing soon-ish, but I can''t  provide a timeline just yet. While the urge to write is there, the time and the mental bandwidth to act on that urge is still lacking. Expect it to be another month or two before a new chapter drops.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Obligatory discord link because I suspect it is likelier to receive quick status updates than Royal Road: https://discord.gg/kF9ErFYrnX</a>