Barb Hendee - Dhampir

He might also just be guessing about what he thought she knew of events in Miiska.

Any one thing by itself was easy enough to dismiss. Even two could be dismissed as the ways of a madman. But all of it was beginning to mount up, one thing upon the other.

"We should get some sleep, Miss," Caleb urged. He reached out to tug at her shoulder, and only then did Magiere turn away from staring back to the stables, the cottage, and the stained woodpile. She headed down the road silently, Caleb by her side.

As Magiere and Caleb started for home, a faint light behind them slipped from the shadows, brightened to nearly the glow of a coal ember as it hovered in the road where the two late night walkers had just been standing. It floated after them for a while, then turned down a side alley and disappeared.

Constable Ellinwood arrived at his rented rooms shortly past the midnight hour, glad to finally be home.

Although he was known to sit drinking ale with his men at any one of Miiska's various taverns late into the night, he found these "duties" more and more difficult as time passed. He felt that it appeared normal, even proper, for the town constable to patronize Miiska's drinking establishments with his guards. He would listen to his men tell boring stories about their families, the arrest of some cutpurse, or breaking up an argument between hawkers at the market. He would smile and nod and attempt to show interest.

But ale did little to fill his mind with dreamy comfort, and lately, it had grown more difficult not to leave early from the guardhouse, where he completed much of his work, and flee home to his lavish rooms in Miiska's finest inn, The Velvet Rose. Once alone in his rooms, he could sit and mix yellow Suman opiate powder with his hidden stores of Stravinan spice whiskey. The combination created a powerful tonic for his troubled thoughts and allowed him to sit in bliss for hours and hours, floating in a perfect state of existence.

Although he'd learned of the elixir years ago when a traveling merchant gave him his first taste, he hadn't indulged much in the past, as the cost of both components was exorbitant. Particularly the powder, which came from across the sea on the far continent, south into the Suman Empire and its kingdom of il'Mauy Meyauh. And even there, it was grown in secret and had to be smuggled out of the country. The price was often too much for him-except of course on special occasions when he was able to extort an unusually high fine for a criminal's release. He found it quite unfair that a man in his position, who earned one of the largest stipends in Miiska, should not be able to afford simple comforts after a hard day's work. Of course, he didn't have to live in the Velvet Rose, but his plush rooms also brought him great pleasure, and a man of his stature needed to keep up appearances.

Then nearly a year ago, a miracle occurred and he could afford all the Suman opiate and spice whiskey he desired. And "home" was a lovely place to be at night.

Ellinwood laid his cloak on the silk comforter covering his bed and went to his polished cherry wood wardrobe to unlock the bottom drawer. He took out a large glass bottle full of amber liquid and a silver urn, smiling in anticipation.

A knock sounded on the door.

His smile faded, and he decided not to answer. Anyone calling at this hour had no decent business. If there were some town emergency, his first lieutenant, Darien, could handle it. He himself deserved a rest.

The knock sounded again, and a cold voice said, "Open the door."

Ellinwood flinched. He knew the voice. He placed the bottle and urn back in the drawer and hurried to open the door. In the hallway stood Rashed, the owner of Miiska's largest warehouse. The constable was at a loss for words.

"Um, welcome," he managed to say. "Did we have an appointment?"

"No."

Any contact with Rashed unnerved the constable, but they had such a mutually beneficial relationship that he was determined not to jeopardize it.

"Then, how can I help you?" Ellinwood asked politely.

Rashed entered the room and closed the door. He was so tall that his head nearly touched the low ceiling. He'd never come to the constable's rooms before, and Ellinwood's typical feeling of "nerves" grew to anxiety. An oval mirror in a silver frame reflected the constable's fleshy visage-completely decked out in shades of green velvet. He could not help briefly comparing himself to the perfectly constructed creature now sharing the room with him.

Rashed glanced around briefly. "There's a hunter in town, and if she bothers me or mine, I'll kill her and anyone who tries to assist her, including your guards. Do you understand?"

Ellinwood stared at him and sputtered, "Who do… the new owner of Dunction's? Oh, you've been listening to town gossip. She did not strike me as impressive on any level."

"She is a hunter, and if she hunts here, there will be bloodshed-hers. And you will look the other way, as always."

The constable tried to draw himself up. Although he and Rashed had a clear agreement that any disappearances or dead bodies found would be shabbily investigated, this was the first time Rashed had spoken so openly about shedding blood. And he'd certainly never felt the need to relay such information before the fact.

"Why are you consulting me?" Ellinwood asked.

"This is different. I don't know when a confrontation will occur, but I prefer not to have any of your guards in the way."

"I'll handle my guards. But you will be discreet? She is new in town and few know her." He paused a moment, trying to find something that might be a suitable explanation for future use. "Perhaps the business, or a sedentary life, didn't suit her as well as she thought it would. There would be little interest if she and her partner simply disappeared one night."

Rashed nodded. "Of course. No bodies."

"Well, then. Do whatever you think is best." Ellinwood's eyes strayed to the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. "Now, if you will excuse me, it has been a long day, and I would like to rest."

Rashed's crystalline eyes followed and rested on the drawer as well. Mild disgust passed across his face, and he tossed a bag of coins on the silk comforter.

"For your trouble." He turned and left the room.

The constable slumped in relief, his breath coming quick and short. Perhaps he should have stipulated that if Rashed wished to speak again, he should arrange a meeting at the warehouse, as was their usual custom. He had no wish to be alone with a vampire in the close quarters of his room ever again. But these creatures who owned Miiska's main warehouse certainly served his needs, and even had other uses from time to time.

Ellinwood had first encountered Rashed's kind about a year ago. He had been returning home after an evening of ale with his guards, and as he cut through an alley, he stumbled across the sight of a filthy street urchin with his mouth on the throat of a sailor. When Ellinwood realized the urchin was draining the sailor's blood, he cried out in alarm. The killer actually looked up, hissed at him, dropped the sailor, and moved forward to attack. Three of his guards, who were just leaving the tavern after him, heard their superior call out and came running to investigate. The urchin vanished down the alley.

As he himself had been in mortal danger, Ellinwood set guards to searching the town with vigor. A few of Miiska's citizens had come to him in the past swearing that night creatures had taken a loved one. The constable had not put much stock in such accounts until he'd seen this twisted little thing in the alley drinking human blood. Stories of monsters and demons were common among the sailors and merchants who traveled up and down the coast, passing through strange and foreign lands. And didn't most myths come from some grain of truth? The constable was determined to track down this murdering, possibly unnatural, urchin.