Page 8

Chapter Eight

Talyria

T his cell has been my only abode for longer than I’d care to know. Fourteen paces to the right and then fourteen paces right back to where I’d been before. There is a small window that lets in a scant amount of sunlight.

The sunlight is an unfamiliar sight, I’m a stone elf, I spent most of my life underground in our cities deep within the mountains not to mention that I spent so much time as a vampire. I think he was trying to do me a kindness, allowing me to occasionally glimpse the birds in the sky.

As much of a kindness that someone like this Creed is capable of.

Still, as far as cells go, I suppose I could have done worse. I have mobility, I have some loose straw. I even have a cot raised from the ground, so the rats don’t chew on me in my sleep. Not that I’ve seen many rats here. My cell is connected to Creed’s laboratory, and he keeps a clean room.

The door to the laboratory opens and Creed strides through, his long robes disguising his form as he seems to almost glide across the floor.

He stops in front of my cell. “It’s been an interesting twenty years with you as my specimen, vampire,” he says as he folds his hands behind his back. “But I’m afraid I have no more use for you. This is where we part ways.”

His face is stained black as the night, but his eyes are white. He did not always look like that. When I was first his prisoner, he looked unassuming enough, a Lowlander man with blue black hair, but now he looks monstrous, like one of the dead that he reanimates.

The transformation came after he absorbed my vampiric powers in a necromantic ritual. However, that did not turn him into a vampire himself. Instead, it seemed to give him my nightly powers with none of the faults of vampirism. He claims that he absorbed the energy of my vampirism and that my powers extended his lifespan for as long as I was a vampire. I’m not even sure how he managed to do that, I was not aware that such a thing was even possible, but then necromancy was always so feared even amongst my people who did not fear to worship the demigods.

However, if this necromancer’s words are to be believed my people are gone.

A thousand years… that’s how long he said I was trapped in the stone before he found me and locked me in this cell.

So, for a thousand and twenty years, I’ve been trapped. I’m fortunate not to age, even with my vampirism gone or else I’d be an old woman by now.

But I’m still young. Young enough to plot my escape.

I will not die this man’s prisoner.

I snarl, silently daring him to try to end me. As this man’s prisoner for the past twenty years, I’ve known him to be a merciless killer. One does not become a necromancer by keeping their hands from being bloodied. Especially since power can be brought from bloodrights. Like stealing life force from vampires apparently.

However, Creed does not deliver any blow. I stand there, ready to call upon my own sorcery, even though he has proven to be far more powerful and fight for my life. Instead, he turns and strides out of the room the way he came, closing the door behind him.

I grasp the bars, pressing my forehead against the metal bars as my eyes land on the nearest wooden table. It is covered in neatly stacked scrolls and glass alembic supplies.

And the key to my cell. Just sitting there.

I feel the corner of my mouth turn up. I’m getting out today. Creed is right, this is where we part ways.

My carefully laid plans to lie low are crumbling around me. It seems I married the wrong innkeeper’s son.

I bury my face in my hands as I struggle to get a handle on the swirling turbulent emotions within me. I don’t even know what to feel first.

Panic or grief?

Because pretty soon Victor and his family are going to realize that I’m just as much of a stranger as the other people staying at this inn. They’ll start asking questions, ones that I don’t have an answer to. I was a prisoner for two decades as my vampirism was drawn from my body. And before that? I was trapped in a stone tomb.

And before that? Well, I had it all, but that isn’t exactly something I want them to find out either. That I was once known as the Thief Queen and ran a thriving criminal empire. Besides, Victor probably doesn’t need to hear about the fact that I was married previously right now.

That past haunts me even if I can never allow anyone to see it. Especially now that there is a woman here with the face of the sister I thought died a thousand years ago.

I press my hand over my mouth as I sit next to the fire. I feel a shift as Victor’s coat brushes up against me. He kneels down in front of me, peering into my eyes. His brown eyes filled with concern. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

“About what?” I ask, arching a brow. So much has happened in such a small amount of time that I think we could take a week and still be talking about it. A man is dead. We are married. We haven’t even kissed once. Oh, and his family is lovely, if a bit boisterous.

And my family is dead… or undead. I glance in the direction of the woman who looks like my Corallin. She’s a vampire, I was a vampire long enough to be able to recognize one, even if her lighter eyes do mask the red they are supposed to be, and her blue-gray skin is not as pale as the pallor of humans.

Corallin was a vampire; I bit her myself. Could it really be her? But if so, why doesn’t she remember me?

He smiles slightly, likely realizing the same thing. “Whatever you want to.”

I look down at his hand which is resting on the seat of the chair near my leg. I reach out, trailing a finger across the silver wedding ring, I have a matching ring given to me by the priest who married us. The weight is unfamiliar on my finger, it feels like it is weighing my whole hand down.

It’s a human tradition, I did not have a ring for my first marriage, but then it seems the whole valley and all the mountains have been touched by the human traditions. I suppose that’s what happens when you win a war.

Victor’s breath hitches as I trail my hand over the back of his knuckles. I pull back curling my fingers, wondering why I even decided to do that. “Is it usually this chaotic here?” I ask, desperate for a change of subject.

My heart skips a beat as it fills with dread and pain. I’m not ready to fall in love again, least of all to a human man. They are so easy to lose, so quick to die. It will be easier if my marriage to Victor remains one of convenience… at least a convenient place to hide.

He huffs a small laugh, not seeming to notice my sudden shift in mood. “Oh, you have no idea. Chaos… it has a way of following me around nowadays.”

“Now you tell me,” I mutter as I reach up, rubbing my own hand, twisting the ring around on my finger.

Victor shrugs. “Not all chaos is bad. Like for instance, if the dead started walking, that would be chaotic but not necessarily bad . The dead are living again after all.”

“No, that would be necromancy, and it’s a vile practice,” I say sneering.

Lek glances in our direction with a frown, and I realize that I said that last part too loud. “Why are you discussing necromancy?” he asks.

“Necromancy?” Estelle demands, her voice growing shrill. “Do you think the necromancer is here?”

Corallin—if it is indeed her—whips her head around, her starlight white hair nearly falling from the sloppy bun she has it pinned up in. “What necromancer?”

“You should do more research when you travel. Everyone knows that this town has a necromancer problem. It’s part of the reason for the curfew that you broke.” Lief chuckles as he says this as if he finds it amusing despite his words. He has been sitting at the far end of the room all by himself. Indeed, most everyone has gone off on their own or in pairs. Vera and Mika are sitting near the bar while Sasha has wandered off to nervously clean the tables. Estelle is sitting at a different table and Lek is with her. It’s obvious the man is besotted with her. He won’t take his eyes off her.

The other three, Lief, Corallin, and the guard, are scattered to the opposite ends of the room. While the orange robed man, Valentine, is sitting almost directly in the center of the room, twiddling his thumbs.

Victor pushes to his feet. “I’m sure it wasn’t the necromancer. The killing doesn’t look like it was ritualistic. It’s likely we just have another heartless killer in town.”

Lief rubs his beard with his thumb as he pushes to his feet. “I for one don’t like just sitting around. It’s as if we are allowing the killer to have a chance to make another move. Soon enough sleep will take us and then what? He slits our throats while we slumber?”

Mika starts crying, and Sasha throws him a glare as he rushes across the room to where she is sitting with her cousin to comfort her.

However, the guardsman steps forward, his eyes locked on Lief. “What are you suggesting?”

“We find the killer and stop them.” Lief holds out his arms. “We normal folk here outnumber the killer.”

“And how do you plan to find the killer?” Lek asks, his voice shaky.

“They killed a man. There must be evidence somewhere to point to the fiend.” Lek holds his hand. “Besides there are only two places for the killer to be.”

At this, Victor straightens. “What do you mean?”

Leif holds up his fingers. “Either the killer is hiding somewhere in this inn because he could not have very well escaped into the night in this storm…” as if to punctuate his words the wind howls outside, causing the shutters to rattle. “Or,” he continues, his icy eyes moving over the group. “The killer is one of us and they are here in this room.”