Barb Hendee: Dhampir

His narrow eyebrows arched. "Why, play nursemaid to me, of course. Not a bad job."

"Oh, shut up."

She turned away as if continuing to sift through the ashes, hiding the near smile she tried to suppress. No, it would not be a bad job at all.

Late the following night on the north edge of Miiska, at the entrance to Belaski's long coastal road, Welstiel Massing sat on his bay gelding in the darkness. The horse trembled and shied away at his touch, but it would obey. He turned for one final look at the sleepy town. Everything he needed was packed into his saddlebags.

He felt no regret at leaving, for he had no attachments to sever here. His work was done. In this place, Magiere had come as far as he could compel her along the path he had set. Setting events in motion had been easy enough, once her banker in Bela informed him that Magiere was looking to buy a tavern. There had been time enough to meet the owner of The Sea Lion, Dunction, remove him, and quietly assist her behind the scenes with the actual purchase. The banker was glad for his commission and the ease of the transaction.

Pitting Rashed and Magiere against each other had been equally simple. Dhampir and vampire-from all he had learned over the years, their natural state was to be at each other's throats. All he needed to do was raise her awareness of her true nature, carefully, just a bit at a time.

Miiska was now cleansed, and Magiere's self-awareness awakened. This place served no more useful purpose. The next stage in her development now had to be planned, and she still had far to go before she would be of real use to him.

"Until we meet again, Magiere," he whispered.

He reined his horse around and began his journey up the dark road.