Barb Hendee - Dhampir

"What arrangement did you have with the bank?" she asked.

"Arrangement?" Caleb's brows gathered.

"What does the bank pay you?"

"Pay us? We've just been living here, tending the place, and were careful not to use up all the stores before the new owner arrived."

Magiere didn't know whom she despised more at that moment, the very poor or the very rich. The bank was able to arrange free caretakers, taking advantage of two people suddenly left without an employer.

"All right," she said to Caleb. "You two work for me, and I'll pay you a twentieth share of the house's profits, plus room and board." She pushed past Leesil down the hall and away from the small room. She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back at them. "And I don't need that big bedroom. We'll switch places later this afternoon."

Leesil stared at her, then looked at Caleb and shrugged. A flicker, just a hint, of astonishment passed across Caleb's face, but he nodded as if such an offer was commonplace.

"That will be just fine," he said calmly. He moved down the hall past her and went quietly back downstairs, no doubt to inform his spouse of the changes to come.

Magiere stepped into the doorway of what would be Leesil's room and leaned against the jamb. Leesil strolled over to stand in the doorway next to her, pretending to examine the near-empty space. There was nothing to look at except the bed and an open-shuttered window in the far wall that looked out toward the ocean, its view only slightly obscured by the branches of a nearby fir tree. Magiere willed him to be silent.

"How uncharacteristic," he finally said.

"If you disagreed, you should have spoken up."

"I don't disagree."

Neither spoke for a short while. Between the two of them, they'd likely starved out entire villages for the price of her services. Magiere finally said, "I want a new life."

Leesil looked at her out of the corner of his eye, loose hair exposing his ears. He nodded and smiled.

"I suppose it's a start."

By sundown that night, Magiere's personal appearance and her world had altered considerably. Beth-rae arranged for a long, hot bath in the kitchen so she could scrub every bit of mud from her hair and skin. While she bathed, her clothing miraculously disappeared and was replaced by a muslin dressing gown. Still planning too many activities that night to remain in what she considered nearly night-clothes, Magiere went back upstairs into her small room. What was once a mere closet for three would do well enough for one.

Furnishings had been moved from one room to another, and all the comforts of a home surrounded her. Where there was once a bed barely large enough for two now stood a bed for one with a plain-posted canopy of faded curtains dyed a deep sea green. It seemed the previous owner had either been single or slept alone. Someone had entered while she bathed and placed a thick down comforter on the bed. And on top of that lay her pack and knife and the sheathed falchion.

Heat from the kitchen fire traveled up the stone chimney in the corner and helped warm the room, though her bare feet still felt a little chill on the wood floor. A wardrobe of dark wood stood against the wall across from the bed. Replacing Rose's mat was now a small table with one chair and two stout, white candles that flickered throughout the dark room. She opened her pack to empty its contents on the bed.

From the bottom of the pack, she pulled a canvas-wrapped bundle. Tied with twine, the rough material had sharply creased after years of storage in its place. It had been so long since she'd opened it that Magiere was forced to cut the twine with her knife, as the knot would not uncinch. Inside was a dark blue brocade dress with black laces on the bodice. Aunt Bieja had given it to her years ago.

Magiere put it on quickly, fumbling a bit with the laces before tying them securely. She absently fingered the metal chain of her bone-and-tin amulet, then dropped it to let it rest between her breasts near the topaz stone. Meaningless trinkets that merely added to her persona as the hunter, she had no idea why she kept them on now, but it seemed too odd to take them off after so many years.

There was no mirror in which to view herself, but when she looked down at the drape of the skirt, it felt odd and alien not to see her own breeched legs or booted feet. She felt a sudden urge to pull the dress off, but with her everyday clothes missing and having limited other clothing in her pack, there was little else to wear at the moment. She turned instead to putting away her things.

Her worn blanket and teapot and few spare undergarments made the wardrobe look barer than before she'd placed anything in it. The small size of the room was actually a relief, since she had so few personal belongings with which to fill it.

"By all the dead deities," came Leesil's voice from behind her. She quickly spun about. "What did you do to yourself?"

Bathed as well, he stood with a hand on the open door latch, wearing a dressing gown similar to the one she'd just taken off. His wet, shoulder-length hair, pulled back over his ears, looked like beach sand in the low light, but he still looked himself. He stared at her as if she were some stranger who'd sneaked in unannounced.

Magiere felt acutely aware of her own appearance, the tightly laced gown and how her black hair hung loose to her shoulder blades. She suddenly wished she'd left on the oversize dressing gown.

"Beth-rae took my clothes to wash," Magiere snarled at him. "And you might take care. She'll probably burn yours, by the state they were in."

"Where did you buy that?" he asked, stepping into the room.

She noticed that when they were both in their bare feet, he was perhaps a little taller than her.

"Don't you knock, or has sleeping on the ground rubbed out all your manners?" she replied. "And I didn't buy it. My aunt gave it to me a long time ago."

That comment halted his line of questioning immediately. Talking about their pasts was something they both made a point of avoiding.

"Where's Chap?" she asked.

"In the kitchen." Leesil rolled his eyes. "He's fallen in love with Beth-rae. Every time I see them, she's feeding him something. That's got to stop. What good is a fat guard dog?"

He still eyed Magiere up and down, and it was starting to irritate her even more.

"We'll search the place tomorrow, take a look at the cellar or whatever passes for storage, and get an inventory. If there are enough ale casks down there, we might be able to open for business tomorrow evening. If you need anything else for the games, let me know." She picked up the falchion and turned to place it inside the corner of the wardrobe while Leesil plopped down in the chair, watching her. "In the afternoon, we'll go back to the market, and maybe the docks to see what's in the warehouses that we might want or need. There's not much money to spend, but it'll get us by until business builds up."

A shift of shadows outside the doorway caught Magiere's attention from the corner of her eye, and instinctively she knew it wasn't Caleb or Beth-rae. Leesil turned as well, staring at the door he'd left open, and a stiletto appeared in his hand.

Magiere didn't stop to ponder where he'd hidden that in his dressing gown. She slipped the sheath of her falchion, letting it drop to the floor.

There was no light near the door, and even the candles didn't show who was there. A deep voice came into the room, gentle, even soothing.

"Don't be alarmed."

Darkness seemed to follow the figure as he stepped forward into the doorway, then the shadows drained away, or perhaps he'd just shifted forward into the reach of the candles' light.

"How did you get up here?" she demanded, wondering why Chap hadn't alerted them to an intruder.