Chapter 13- Doors and Windows

“Later, Homunculi were completely artificial but functional bodies. Created through complicated magical and alchemical means. While not truly people, these bodies had myriad uses for Mages with little scruples. Some dramatic, like acting as replacement bodies for powerful Necromancers. Others were more mundane, like being used as subjects for grisly experiments. Yet, the lack of a soul made it so no Homunculus was ever truly “alive,” as we think of. A potential solution to this was found in the process of grafting existing souls to a Homunculus body. A process that ultimately failed. Instead, producing universally insane creatures whose body and soul deteriorated to uselessness.” - Excerpt from the text, “ Alchemical Abominations ” authored by Aureolus Bombastus, Master Alchemist of the Salted Citadel.

Natalie sat across from the Vampire. She’d been commanded to sit and wait with the Monster and saw no other option than following its orders. Her back ramrod straight, with hands balled into fists, Natalie didn’t take her eyes off the Vampire. With effort, Natalie suppressed the shivers of fear that went through her and tried to face the Vampire with dignity.

Dame Lorena, for her part, still sat casually at the table, her attractive form coiled in her chair like a large predator content between meals. Sipping her “drink” casually, Lorena looked at Natalie with amused eyes. Setting her glass down, Lorena leaned over the table in what might have been a seductive posture in anybody other than an undead predator.

“It's smart of you to not cause an incident. Stirring up fear in your fellow… townsfolk is not something the Court views favorably.”

Natalie got the distinct impression that Lorena wanted to use a word other than Townsfolk, but stopped herself. Not reacting to the Vampire’s words, Natalie stayed still as Lorena spoke.

“But trying to not be afraid, now that's a foolish choice. I can hear your pulse quickening and feel the air stir with your panicked breaths. I can smell your sweat and taste the fear in it. Your attempts to hide your fear are futile, Barmaid. You are afraid, and you should be. Nothing you do will change that fact. So be a good girl and sit still while we wait.”

The Vampire's words stung Natalie and brought another emotion forward. A spike of anger erupted, and Natalie spoke. “My name is Natalie, not barmaid.”

Lorena got very still then, unnaturally so. No breaths or muscle twitches disturbed her deadly stillness. The Vampire seemed more like a statue than anything remotely alive for a second. Then Lorena smiled; it was a false thing, as sweet as spoiled berries and just as sickly.

“I’ll call you whatever a damn well please mortal. Now shut your mouth before I reach into that pretty little mind of yours and take the ability to speak from you.”

The color drained from Natalie’s face. She’d heard of things like that, magic that could break a person's mind with a glance. Something terrible and forbidden by the Pantheon, so of course, it was a dark art practiced by Vampires and other monsters. Gritting her teeth, Natalie did as she was told and felt a pang of envy for those with magical skills. A silver tongue and clever wit had taken her far in life, but now they were useless in the face of her current threat.

An hour or so passed, with Natalie never taking her eyes off the Vampire. The matters of the tavern continued without Natalie's aid, and she didn’t know if she should feel pleased or hurt that no one came to her aid. Eventually, by nine o'clock, the Silly Goat’s doors opened, and Natalie knew by the hush that fell over the room who was in the doorway. She didn’t even turn her head as Cole spoke to the tavern at large.

“The ruins in the north forest were haunted by a pack of Wraiths. They have been put to rest. Lost sheep should be more easily recovered in that area.”

Silence filled the bar for a few moments before Sandu, the heavy-set tradesmen, barked out. “Well, that's good to hear! One less excuse the Shepards have. The lazy bastards!”

Those words were met with a mix of jeers and laughs. Good-natured ribbing between townsfolk started up, and the Tavern returned to normal. Natalie finally turned around and spotted Cole. He looked much better than she expected. This hunt had apparently gone well. Wrapped in a deep black cloak and standing tall with quiet confidence, he struck an imposing sight. Cole was scanning the tavern with a neutral expression on his face. Silently Natalie pleaded for him to spot her.

He did, and Cole’s face broke into a smile that died as quickly as it came. The look of panic that Natalie had been hiding was now displayed for him. Setting his jaw, Cole looked from Natalie to her “companion.” Natalie saw his eyes widen in recognition and shock, his hand shooting to the axe slung at his waist. Frantically Natalie jerked her head in the negative. If this got violent, they couldn’t have it happen in the middle of a busy tavern. Cole understood her gesture and nodded in kind.

Quickly moving to the table, Cole flicked his eyes between the two women waiting for him. As he arrived, the Vampire smiled and gestured for Cole to sit. He ignored her and simply stepped to the side of the table, subtly putting himself between Lorena and Natalie. A kind gesture that Natalie doubted would be ultimately helpful. If the Vampire wanted to kill them, she doubted there was much Cole could do to stop it.

In a deeper voice with more growl than normal, Cole addressed the Vampire. “Dame Lorena, what business do you here?”

Lorena smiled at that and drawled. “The intimate kind dear Rest-Bringer. The kind the help shouldn’t be privy to. So be a good boy and find us a place to talk in private.”

Cole nodded slightly and answered. “My room upstairs should prove useful. Is that acceptable to you?”

The Vampress smiled, her fangs on terrible display. “My, you are a bold one, Rest-Bringer. To invite a lady to your chambers on your second meeting. Such confidence must be rewarded.”

She rose from her chair with a sinuous grace Natalie normally associated with dancers. But in Lorena, it seemed distinctly predatory. Putting out a single hand for Cole to take, Lorena let herself be led away as if she was joining a suitor for a dance. As they approached the staircase, Cole shot Natalie a frantic look. Not filled with fear for himself like Natalie almost expected, but instead terror for her and the Inns patrons.

Natalie nodded in response to his look and got up from her seat. Quickly and quietly, she pushed through patrons and headed for the bar. Ignoring the stiffness in her muscles, a product of her tense wait. Natalie found her father. The dark-haired man was busy pouring drinks and looked up to see her with a mixture of annoyance and confusion.

“Natty, where have you been? I know you are leaving soon, but it's not alright to leave-” Natalie cut him off quickly. Slipping over, she grabbed his free arm and whispered into his ear.

“A Vampire is in the Inn. Cole has her distracted, but I don’t know for how long. We need to get these people to safety.”

Confusion faded into dawning horror as the gravity of Natalie’s words sunk in. Turning from her, Wilhelm shouted to the patrons. “All right, change of plans. We are closing early tonight.” He cut off the surprised moans and boos before they could start. “There is something big to prepare for tomorrow, so I need all of you to move off!” Slowly and uncertainly, the crowd started to shuffle towards the door. Confused babble filled the Inn. Natalie and her father looked at each other and had a moment of mutual understanding. The Silly Goat was not emptying fast enough.

“Hurry along!” barked Wilhelm. “I have a party to prepare for and a special announcement to make. So shoo and come back tomorrow. The last one out the door pays double for drinks tomorrow!”

That got them moving, and soon Natalie and Wilhelm were alone in the tavern. Looking to his daughter, Wilhelm asked. “What’s happening?”

Natalie shrugged an expression that quickly turned into a shiver. “I don’t know. Before I noticed her, she was here for some time and only wanted to speak to Cole.”

Wilhelm grit his teeth, and his expression hardened. Natalie could see the regret and distress on his face. The normally kind man second-guessing his choice to let Cole stay in his establishment. Natalie winced; what was happening was close to Wilhelm’s worst-case scenario. Trying to distract herself and her father, Natalie asked:

“What are you going to tell them tomorrow?” Which was assuming there was a tomorrow for them.

Similar thoughts seemed to pass in Wilhelms mind, but he still answered. “I would announce you are planning to leave. And I would open myself to Apprentices. I’d need the help and have someone to run this place when I die.”

That got a sad smile from Natalie, and she tried to think of something to say. Her efforts were interrupted by a loud crack and a high-pitched scream coming from upstairs.

Cole led Lorenna up the stairs and towards his room. Her hand was unnaturally cool in his and was a potent reminder of what he was dealing with. Politely he brought the Vampire into his rented space and gestured for her to sit at the small table in one corner of the room. She did, an amused smile on her elegant face. Cole shut the door behind him and faced the monster.

“What business do you have with me, Vampire?” asked Cole, his voice a low growl.

Lorena’s eyebrows rose in surprise at his tone, and her mouth split in a warning smile. “I’d watch your self Rest-Bringer. Poor manners can result in poor behavior from an offended Lady like myself.”

Cole ignored the threat and continued his questioning. “My actions in Glockmire do not threaten or undermine your Liege. I have done my duty and not acted against the Lord. So I repeat my question. Why are you here?”

Clucking her tongue in disapproval, Lorena answered in a patronizing tone. “Oh, we both know that's not strictly true. You are dabbling in all manner of things that might prove disastrous for this town. In fact, a little Bat told me you were busy hunting Undead servants of the Court. Attempting to hurt the power and standing of respected Nobles. Such action is not something we can ignore.”

Cole froze then. It seemed his actions had not gone unnoticed. The Feeder had enough of his efforts to disrupt their plans and wanted to remove him from the board. He doubted Lorena was the one behind this whole mess. She seemed the type more willing to play for whoever enticed her with a greater prize. Not the sort who concocted complicated plans to seize power. Whoever was pulling the strings had the influence to send a lesser Vampire to threaten him. An ostentatious display that Cole could almost find strangely flattering.

Again, Cole reiterated his question. “What do you want, Vampire? You haven’t just attacked me, so you must want something from me. So spit it out. I have no patience for your games.”

The harshness of his words surprised Cole; he knew he needed to be tactful and clever about this. But something inside of him wouldn’t play nice. The implied and implicit threat of this blood-sucking abomination sitting in the Tavern, holding Natalie hostage, brought a bitter fury to Cole.

Lorena had stopped blinking. Her eyes had become glassy as she stared at Cole with unnatural intensity. “I came to make an offer and ask you a question, Rest-Bringer.”

Leaning forward, Lorena bared her fangs and continued. “The offer was originally demanding that you leave this town in twenty-four hours. Or we’d be forced to take punitive actions against you and anyone who might be adding you.”

Reaching out one of her hands, Lorena pointed a single finger at Cole. Black blood welled up from her nail bed and flowed out and around the tip of her finger. Forming into an eight-centimeter claw of glossy-black sharpness. The rest of her fingers followed suit, turning the Vampires hand into talons.

“That was the offer, but you went and annoyed me. So I’m changing it. Instead, you will let me drink you to near-death before we dump your unconscious body outside the town gates. If you don’t, I’ll go downstairs and devour the pretty little Barmaid and anyone else I can find in this cesspit.”

It took a truly remarkable amount of self-control for Cole not to attack the Vampire. Instead, he flatly asked. “What was your question?”

Lorena seemed slightly disappointed she hadn’t gotten him to react explosively, but she recovered quickly. Smiling with a level of smug sadism rarely seen outside of well-fed Cats, she asked: “Does the name Isabelle Gens Silva mean anything to you?”

Cole’s eyes widened in absolute shock and horror. He took a step backward and found his back pressed against the door. Unconsciously he flicked his gaze to where he hid the skull. Returning his focus to Lorena, he saw her eyes wide with a predatory delight. It was no use denying anything; she’d read his reaction like a particularly simple book.

Lorena rose from the table with a slinking motion and stepped towards Cole, her face split in a fanged smile. “So it's true? When I described you to him, he was shocked. Claiming the Homunculus Knight had been destroyed more than a decade ago. Oh, this is marvelous. The irony is incredible. An abomination like you pretending to be Holy? You aren’t even a Rest-Bringer, are you?”

Cole reached up to his neck to scars their and his necklace. He gripped the metal hourglass tightly and pulled it free of the cord. Lorena saw what he was doing and actually laughed.

“Do you really think a trinket like that will stop what's coming? No god will protect you aberration. You’ve run long enough; now it's time for you to return to where you belong.”

Memories flashed through Cole, unbidden. Of never-ending darkness and hungry shadows. Memories of two years spent in a Vampires larder. Spending night after night being devoured by monsters. Living in a state of constant exhaustion and terror, the only respites from his captor’s blood-hunger was when they violated and vivisected him. He’d escaped that fate once and thought he was safe from it. The Homunculus Knight had died, and the Paladin of Death had lived.

Someone in the court of Glockmire had been at Castle Silva when it fell and knew his story. They’d sent Lorena to either scare him off or identify him. Now she knew enough to seal his fate. The Vampiress would drag him back to that place of screaming death. Where a cabal of monsters would do as they pleased to him.

At that moment, Cole hated himself for how foolish and optimistic he’d been. A decade had passed since he was presumed destroyed, and he’d thought it was time enough for his story to fade. That now, after all that time, he could safely return to the Blood Duchies. Cole had been woefully, drastically wrong. And now, he would pay the price for his naivety.

Cole realized he’d been trembling and that Lorena had gotten within an arm's length of him. His fear eliciting a terrible mix of hunger and arousal in the Vampire. Looking into her eyes, Cole watched her irises change color. The illusionary brown, worn to avoid suspicion, melted into a deep crimson. Looking away before the eye contact could be dangerous, Cole made his decision. He would not go quietly into the night. He would do his duty even now. Cole, The Paladin of Master Time, was confronted with an Undead threatening the innocent. It fell to him to destroy it.

He swung his arm in a wild haymaker towards Lorena’s head. It was a clumsy blow any trained mortal could dodge. Nothing even remotely a threat to a Vampire. Lorena didn’t bother to dodge it, her hungry grin brimming with conceit. She intended to let Cole break his arm on her supernaturally strong body before she had her way with him. Cole had counted on that typical Vampiric arrogance to let the blow connect. His hand hit Lorena in the face in an open-handed slap. A slap that carried Cole’s medallion in his open palm right into the Vampire’s unprotected face.

For ten years, Cole had served as one of the handful of Paladins on the entire continent. In that entire time, he’d kept this same austere piece of jewelry with him. It acted as the focus for his prayers, his meditations, and the occasional miracle he’d performed. So when it struck Lorena, it burned the Vampire like the Sun’s own rays.

Lorena screamed in pain as the metal seared her skin and muscle right down to the bone. She stumbled backward and crashed into the table. Scuttling away from Cole, the Vampire looked up. Hate and surprise oozed from what was left of her face. Her entire right cheek was scorched away, and burns ran from her jaw to her hairline. Hissing in fury, Lorena started to screech something at Cole. He didn’t let complete her words and charged the Vampire. Unbuckling his axe in his left hand, with his talisman in his right Cole attacked Lorena.

Barreling forwards, Cole brought his axe down into the Vampires shoulder. Sinking its blade through muscle and into the clavicle. With the weapon embedded in his foe, Cole continued his charge. Catching the Vampire off balance and ramming her towards the room's window. Long ago, Cole had learned something important about supernatural strength and speed. It was of little use without proper leverage. Which was exactly why Cole grabbed onto the Vampire with all his might and shoved them both out the window.

They smashed through the wood and glass and tumbled into the air. One hand gripping his axe, the other grabbing the Vampire’s body, they plunged towards the ground. Lorena screeched and thrashed as the talisman still nestled in Cole’s palm burned where it touched. Lorena flailed uselessly without anything to grip on to. She hit the ground first and hit hard, with Cole landing on top of her. Cole’s full weight came down like a load of bricks. Much of that weight was directed into the axe buried in Lorena's shoulder. The blade tore through muscle and bone with an incredible crack. While the talisman burned away at her hip, where Cole clutched for dear life.

For a moment, neither did anything as Cole gasped in a breath and ignored the burst of pain across his body. At the same time, Lorena tried to process what exactly happened. It didn’t take the Vampire long, and she flung Cole off her with a screech. Cole tumbled away, rolling on the ground a meter before he could pull himself to his feet. Shakily Cole assessed the situation, he still held his axe, but he’d dropped the talisman. Three fingers on his right hand were broken, he’d bruised a few ribs, and he might have a concussion. Looking at Lorena, Cole thought that wasn’t a bad trade for the damage he’d inflicted.

The Vampire’s right arm was dangling uselessly; in fact, most of the shoulder was hanging loosely, ready to fall right off the monster. Cole had chopped through the entire shoulder and down into her torso. Lorena’s dress was in tatters and revealed a line of burns on her left side. Ending at her hip, where a solid chunk of the muscle had blackened and turned to ash. Ultimately the sight of the wounded vampire was profoundly disturbing yet eerily poetic. Nearly naked, Lorena’s supple and curvaceous body was on display. But marred by brutal injuries that revealed the ashen, desiccated corpse hidden under the veneer of false life. She was a monster wearing a beautiful form, a fact available for all to now see.

Slicing a gash on his injured right hand, Cole transmuted his weapon into a pole-axe. A smaller and more maneuverable cousin to the Halberd. With one hand wounded, a lighter weapon would be better for what was to come. Cole charged Lorena, brandishing his weapon, thrusting its spear-tip at the Vampire. Lorena batted the blade away with her working arm, and Cole translated the momentum into a low spinning kick with his opposite leg. It struck below the burns on her hip and elicited a shriek of pain from the Vampire.

Lorena leaped forward, pouncing like a hungry lion. She’d coated her usable hand’s fingers in blood talons, and her fangs had elongated slightly. Making her look more like the predatory monster she was. With her right arm damaged to uselessness and her left leg wounded, the lunge was off, and Cole could dodge it. Lorena landed on three limbs and whirled around. Her posture was distinctly feral. Her face was healing quickly, and she screeched.

“I’m going to break you! I’m going to break your mind and reduce you to the stupid meat puppet you were meant to be. Then I’ll make you-”

Cole Cut her off with a barrage of blood darts. The razor-sharp droplets shot forward at his command, and Lorena dodged all but one of them. It stuck into her side, much like a mundane Crossbow bolt, before melting into blood after a few seconds.

“Stop talking and die quickly. You’ve prolonged your life long enough, monster.” spat Cole as he fired another volley.

Lorena dodged these easily and circled around him. Her eyes were wild as she looked around the empty street. Cole felt relief as he noticed what she was realizing. The Silly Goat had emptied out, and anyone on the streets had fled when they’d fallen through the window. Lorena was Moroi, and her powers lent themselves to enslaving weak minds. Drunken tavern-goers on the street would have provided a wonderful source of puppets.

Closing the distance Cole swiped out with his pole-axe; Lorena dodged and responded with a slash of her own. The extra distance of Cole’s weapon let him dodge her talons but forced him to back away as she continued a fierce onslaught of rapid blows. Anyone caught in that storm of claws would be reduced to shredded gore in seconds. Cole let her swing wildly at the air and couldn’t help but grin.

This was what he’d been counting on. Vampires are stronger, faster, and tougher than any mortal. But that does not automatically make them skilled warriors. Many had never fought before; they’d been transformed and were over-reliant on their physical superiority. While not actually knowing how to use the supernatural prowess they possessed. Lorena was flailing wildly like an angry child, except with the strength to crack stone. She was also crippled, one arm useless, one leg badly damaged, and her full strength would take time to return. Lorena was not the first Vampire Cole fought, and he knew how to beat arrogant little monsters like her.

Keeping out of her reach Cole slit his right palm. Painful and inconvenient, those types of cuts were not what Cole favored for his blood magic, but it was necessary for what he would do next. Cole swung his hand out in an arc, letting a spray of blood splatter onto the approaching Lorena. Still caught up in her frantic flailing, the Vampire barely noticed the blood.

“Scattered Blood Boil! Return this Corpse to the Soil!” Barked Cole, the incantation acting as magical shorthand to shape the summoned power as he desired. The droplets of blood super-heated and instantly burned where they touched. Lorena flinched in pain and stopped her attack in surprise. Cole punished the opening with impunity. He leaped forward with his pole-axe swinging in from the side. The blade hacked into the Vampires neck, embedding itself in her spinal cord.

Without two hands to use, Cole lacked the power to deliver a clean decapitation. Which worked perfectly for what he intended. The blow and its damage to Lorena’s spinal cord were enough to topple the Vampire over. Cole held onto the haft of his weapon as she fell, keeping it stuck in the Vampires flesh. Lorena landed in a heap of burned flesh and thrashing limbs. Cole wrapped both hands on the Pole-axe’s handle and pressed a booted foot to the back of the axe-head. Ignoring the stinging pain in his right hand Cole looked down at the Vampire and growled a few words just loud enough for her to hear.

“You are right. I am not a Rest-Bringer. I am Paladin of Master Time. Sent to put an end to your evil. Go now to your Judgement, and know your master will be joining you soon.”

Lorena’s eyes widened in shock and horror as Cole stomped down on the pole-axe, driving the blade straight through the Vampire’s neck. Immediately the Vampire’s flesh started to dissolve, flaking away into ash. Leaving a mound of gray dust, with a set of blackened bones in the middle. Cole looked down at the remains of Dame Lorena Sartori and bowed his head.

“Accept Master Time’s judgment with honor and bear the weight of your sins well. May you find redemption and peace, you Broken Soul.”

Leaving the Vampire's corpse behind, Cole scooped up his dropped Talisman and walked back towards the Silly Goat. Setting his jaw, Cole made a decision then. He’d set events into motion, and now he needed to see them through.

Natalie watched Cole fight the Vampire from the open door of the Silly Goat with absolute shock. It was a brutal blood-soaked clash that ended as quickly as it began. Cole had decapitated a Nocturnal Noble with a grim efficiency that shocked her. Natalie had seen Cole fight before, but compared to his clash with the Walking Charnel, this was a much faster and more vicious affair.

Turning away from his kill, Cole stalked back towards the Silly Goat. In surprise and more than a little bit of fear, Natalie stepped away from the door and let Cole enter. The large man had a grim look on his face, and he looked around the Tavern with a cautious eye. Wilhelm, who’d been watching as well, stepped towards Cole and started to speak.

“What, what have you DONE!?” His words started uncertainly and ended in a shout. “You’ve killed a Noble! They will come for us now!”

Cole shut his eyes in a sign of momentary weariness before answering. “ The Vampire threatened to kill both of you if I didn’t do as she commanded. And what she wanted of me was not something I could give. So I took a third option.”

This was not the whole truth but close enough for the two of them. He’d already endangered the Striga family enough through his foolishness. Cole shut the Inns door, turning away from the two innocents he’d dragged into his mess. Then he grabbed a chair from nearby, set it in front of the door, and sat in it. Cole faced the entrance with his pole-axe draped in his lap.

“Natalie can you grab my pack and anything I have left in my room. Wilhelm, could you please find me something to bandage my wounds?” asked Cole, his tone focused and cool.

Wilhelm started to object, but Cole cut him off. “I’ve endangered you and Natalie. I’m sorry for that and will do what I can to rectify that. I will leave in the morning, and when I do, you will tell the Daymen I threatened you to let me stay. Tell them whatever they want to hear, but make it clear I forced you both to help me on the threat of death and an arcane curse.”

It was Natalie's turn to speak up, but Cole didn’t let her. “If they come for you, it will be tonight when emotions are the hottest, and when my shed blood might summon the Castle Guards. I will protect you tonight and then leave when I can be reasonably certain you are both safe.”

Still, Wilhelm and Natalie hesitated, and Cole did something unusual for him. He raised his voice. “GO! Do as I ask!”

The sound of the large man's booming voice shook both father and daughter from their confusion, and they rushed to fulfill his request. Shortly Willhem had some bandages and a small piece of wood for Cole. Cole bandaged his cuts and splinted his broken fingers crudely. Natalie, for her part, rushed upstairs to grab Cole’s backpack and anything in the room.

Upon entering the room, Natalie tried not to look at the destroyed window or patches of ash on the ground where a Vampire had bled. She found Coles's pack easily enough. He’d set it by the door when he brought Lorena into the room. A quick search confirmed what Natalie suspected. The only thing Cole had not taken with him was the skull in its pouch. Grabbing it from under the bed, Natalie tried not to shiver at the feeling of cloth-wrapped bone. Returning to the room's door, Natalie was struck with a sudden curious impulse.

Pausing for a moment, Natalie unfastened the bag and looked inside. To the grinning skull that looked up at her. As she looked at it, a familiar oppressive chill flooded her body. The numbing touch of a God. Gasping in surprise and sudden panic, Natalie instinctually touched the skull with her bare skin. Instantly she felt something else press against her mind. A radically different presence compared to the monumental coldness of a God. This one was a small but steady sensation of warmth. A phantom scent filled Natalie’s nose, accompanying the warm wetness she felt touching her soul. The smell of fresh blood, potent enough to make Natalie’s vision swim, assaulted her. Frantically she pulled her hand away from the skull and resealed its bag.

Shoving the skull into Cole’s pack, a shaken Natalie started to leave the room. But a faint whisper in the back of her mind stopped her.

“You? Who are you?” Natalie was stunned and tried to understand the source of the lilting feminine voice. Was this the Skull? Was Isabelle the long-dead Vampire speaking to her?

Again the voice spoke, faint and delicate like the rustle of silk sheets. “You smell of grief and lilacs. You taste of blood and tears. What have you done with my beloved?”

This was Isabelle or whatever was left of her. Natalie was hearing the whispers of a ghost. The ghost of the woman who’d bound Cole to her and fed on him like a parasite. A spike of bitter anger coursed through Natalie at that thought, and she muttered under her breath.

“Beloved? You call the man you ensorcelled and drank from your Beloved? I know what a Vampire's venom can do to a mind. It's bad enough you controlled him in life, Isabelle. You can’t even let him be free when you’re dead!”

The smell of blood returned, and it hit Natalie like a punch. It carried a sense of anger and outrage with it. Hurriedly Natalie shoved the skull into the pack and stepped back from the pack. The smell faded slightly, but Natalie could still feel an ugly fury emanating from the skull. It felt like someone was smearing hot blood on her. A disgusting and disturbing sensation rubbing against her soul.

“You know nothing! You speak about what you don’t understand! You are unworthy of his secrets and his love! You will not take him from me!” spat the voice, its silken tones corrupted by a spitting hiss that reminded Natalie of an angry feline.

Before Natalie could rebuke the mad-ghost rasping against her mind, another voice intervened.

“ENOUGH. TROUBLE NOT THIS CHILD WITH YOUR RANTING SHADE”

Cold and mighty like a glacier, but somehow soft as sand flowing in an hourglass. The second voice banished the stink and filthy sensation of blood. Replacing it was a brisk chill that faded almost instantly.

Eyes wild and stunned by what happened, Natalie quickly grabbed the bag and hurried downstairs. She knew what the second voice was. The speaker's identity was clear as glass but not something she wanted to think about. Those words had shaken her very soul, echoing like thunder yet crisp as cracking ice. The intent and focus of something so far beyond her; interpreted as a few words. Natalie had heard the voice of a God, which frightened her more than any threats from a blood-soaked ghost.

Natalie moved towards the staircase but stopped before going down. A sudden thought struck her. She would probably never see Cole again, and that idea pained her more than she wanted to admit. Setting the pack down, Natalie went to her room and grabbed something. The statue of Stockings the Cat. The one she’d started when Cole first arrived, and that she’d just finished last night. With a backpack on one shoulder and a statue in her hands, Natalie went downstairs. She knew it was foolish, but part of her wanted Cole to take something of her with him. If he carried around that cursed totem of the woman who claimed she loved him. Maybe it would be counteracted by a symbol of someone who genuinely… cared for him. Another word instead of “cared” flashed through Natalie's mind but was quickly squashed away.

Heading downstairs, Natalie stuffed the statue in Cole’s pack. When she arrived, she found Cole sitting staring at the door. Her father sitting and staring at Cole, and the Cat sitting on the ground in between Cole’s feet. Dropping the pack next to him, Natalie pulled up a chair and sat nearby Cole.

“So what do you intend to do?” she asked, pulling her attention off what happened upstairs and onto the mildly less harrowing tension in the room around her.

Cole considered Natalie’s words for a moment before speaking. “I’ll head south and see if I can continue my work without causing any more trouble. Hopefully, the chaos caused by Lorena's death will delay whatever is coming.”

Pausing for a second, Cole took a deep breath and looked at Natalie. “I suggest you continue with your plans to leave and do so as quickly as possible. Something is coming, and I don’t know if I can prevent it.”

Looking to Wilhelm then, Cole continued. “I suggest you follow her Master Wilhelm. My presence here is not a fluke of fate. A threat is encroaching on Glockmire.”

That got the middle-aged man to sit back in his chair and grimace. Considering how bad things were going, Cole figured it was time to be a little franker with the Inn Keeper. His actions had put the man and his daughter in danger, so maybe he could try and get them out of harm's way before leaving.

Softly, Natalie asked, “What about the Varcolac?” she didn’t know why she brought up the Monster but Natalie did.

“I will destroy it, I will honor my oath. When it is done I will find a way to send word to you” answered Cole, a strange pang of sadness going through him as he did. Something about the words spoke of finality to his connection with Natalie. She’d helped him and requested he destroy the Undead that killed her mother. Something Cole had agreed to do, even with her accompanying him.

Silence fell over the inn after that, broken only by the rustling of the wind outside and the purring of an unconcerned Cat. At different points, both Natalie and Wilhelm tried to keep themselves busy with chores. But they eventually rejoined Coles vigil. Hours crept by, and nothing happened. No shouts and screams in the night. No rattling of armor or cries of challenge. It was a normal night, except for the tension in the Silly Goat, and the Vampire bones in the street beyond it.

Multiple times Cole tried to speak. To offer words of comfort to Natalie or Wilhelm. But the platitudes died on his lips before they could take shape. Similarly, Natalie tried and failed to muster the courage to speak her mind. So the silence dragged on as the night continued. Multiple times Wilhelm nodded off; he was not the young man he’d once been, and staying up all night was not something he could do easily. Natalie sat wide-eyed, exhaustion taking its toll, but she refused to rest. Cole sat motionlessly, senses peeled for any threat. Only occasionally moving his foot to stroke, the cat curled up next to his legs.

Then after a time, that felt like an eternity. The first early light of dawn became visible. The pale grey promise of day glowed in the Silly Goats windows. To Cole’s surprise, the Castle Guard hadn’t arrived. He’d thought his fight with Lorena would surely summon them. He tried not to worry about why exactly they hadn’t attacked. Cole refused to chalk it up to good fortune.

Meanwhile, Natalie angsted and debated internally. Sometime in the night, she’d made a startling realization. With that realization had come an idea, one she struggled with. An idea she needed to marshall her courage if she wanted to see it realized. Natalie had to make a decision and do so quickly.

The first golden rays of sunlight peaked into the inn, and they signaled to Cole it was time. He stood up from his chair, gently disturbing Stocking's rest, and grabbed his pack. Natalie watched him with bated breath. Her mind was racing between different options. Eventually, she made her decision. Cole stepped to the door, opened it, and turned to face Natalie and Wilhelm. He started to say his goodbyes, but Natalie stopped him with a kiss.

Fueled by exhaustion, panic, and a simmering infatuation. Natalie embraced Cole and met his lips with her own. Cole suddenly stiffened at the action before relaxing into the kiss. They locked lips for a few seconds in a moment of blissful intimacy. Eventually, Natalie reluctantly pulled herself away from it and put her hands on Cole’s chest.

“Find me in Vindabon in a year's time. You owe that to me, Cole.”

Startled, confused, and more than a little entranced, Cole touched his lips before nodding solemnly.

“Yes, I will find you in a year's time, Natalie Striga.”

Reluctantly Cole stepped away from the beautiful woman who’d kissed him and turned to leave. With pack and pole-axe in hand, Cole set out. He felt both weighed down with worry and lightened with something sweet. A contradictory experience that made his heart throb. Leaving the Silly Goat, Cole looked at the Vampire's bones still lying in the street. It surprised Cole that no one had discovered the remains, and part of Cole was tempted to take them. But he decided it might cause more problems than they might solve.

Leaving the Bones and the Silly Goat. Cole made his way to the gates of Glockmire and set out to the south, out of the mountains and away from Natalie. Looking up at the rising Sun, Cole murmured to himself:

“Vindabon. That sounds nice.”

Agate Doruscion had the distinction of being a rising star among the Vampire court of Glockmire. As the scion and apprentice of Doru of the Bones, chief necromancer of Lord Johan Glockmire. Agate had repeatedly proven that her magical and political skills surpassed what would be expected of a Vampire of her age. Becoming the pinnacle of what a young Vampire should aspire to in the Blood Duchies. Unfortunately, none of these accolades did anything to stop Dietrich Freymond from wrapping his fingers around her throat.

Back in the Castle, Dietrich had wasted no time tracking down his target. Agate was the owner of the Obsidian Athame Dietrich had linked to the rogue Necromancy. This, along with her talent, ambition, and youth cemented her as the prime suspect of being the Feeder. So when he cornered her in one of Doru’s laboratories shortly before dawn, Dietrich was ready when Agate tried to run.

The Vampress had not gotten far. Dietrich had quickly grabbed her and now wrapped his hands around Agate’s throat, crushing her windpipe. This did not kill Agate but instead crippled her ability to cast spells. With her throat crushed and the strong iron grip of Dietrich preventing her from regenerating, Agate couldn’t speak a single word. Which was exactly what Dietrich intended. Looming over the panicking younger Vampire, Dietrich growled at his victim.

“You are accused of acting beyond the license given to you by your liege. Of conducting experiments with magics forbidden to one of your ranks. Experiments with the express purpose of overthrowing Lord Glockmire. How do you plead?”

In response, Agate let out a gurgling croak, telling Dietrich he wasn’t squeezing hard enough. As Dietrich strengthened his grip, Agate thrashed and tried to pry the Scarlet Knight’s fingers off her throat. It was a useless effort, and Dietrich felt comfortable explaining the case to the accused Vampire.

“I’ve been tracking the actions of someone working to gather powerful lesser undead. Someone who intends to use overwhelming numbers and power to usurp our Lord. In the course of my investigation, I discovered a cache of Ghouls in the mountains. Lured there with a ritual spell of some kind. The ritual symbol was carved using an obsidian athame. Much like the one you own.”

Agate’s eyes widened in horror, bloody irises flitting around the laboratory for any possible escape. It was the look of a cornered animal and one Dietrich had long learned to recognize. Part of him was tempted to simply squeeze a little harder and pop Agate’s head from her shoulders and be done with it. But Dietrich needed to finish this cleanly, with a confession and public execution. Instead, he’d break Agate’s neck, giving him enough time to collar and cuff her before she regenerated.

Dietrich moved to use both his hands and adjust his grip for the more difficult act of violence. Creating a momentary opening, which Agate took full advantage of. She bit her tongue hard and let a small stream of black blood pour out of her mouth. The blood slithered down between Dietrich's fingers and Agate’s neck. Then pushed against his fingers with remarkable strength. Her struggling limbs and blood's combined effort allowed Agate to slip through Dietrich's grip.

Agate lept backward and scrabbled towards a shelf nearby. Grabbing a sealed jar with twitchy fingers, Agate tossed the jar at Dietrich with all the strength she could muster. Its glass exploded against the Scarlet Knight’s armor and released a pungent yellow cloud. Dietrich hissed, a mix of pain and annoyance forcing the sound from his lips. He’d underestimated how strong Agate’s blood manipulation was. To control such a small amount of blood and produce such a potent effect was a testament to Agate’s talent. Dietrich might have been impressed if he currently wasn’t in incredible pain. She’d thrown a container of Sulfur at him; the acrid material burned his skin and eyes. Brimstone was one of the lesser banes of Vampires, but being doused in it was enough to raise burning welts on his skin.

Roaring in fury, Dietrich pushed through the pain and confusion. His eyes and nose were useless, so he followed Agate’s movement with his ears. The faint clank and clatter of glass and wood guided Dietrich to his left. Lunging forward with explosive power, Dietrich brought a gauntleted arm down before him. Instead of cold dead flesh, he caught a table’s edge. Dietrich smashed the wood to splinters and sent a shower of glassware and table fragments flying everywhere.

A pained shriek accompanied the clatter and tinkle of falling debris as some of the shrapnel hit Agate. Honing in on his prey, Dietrich barrelled forward. Blinking away the pungent Sulfur, Dietrich saw Agate before him. Reaching out, he closed his fingers around one of her arms and squeezed. Bone crunched, and flesh tore as Dietrichs vise-like grip did its grisly work. Agate pulled away with surprising force, letting Dietrich rip her hand off in a gruesome display.

Before Dietrich could recover and get a better grip on the fleeing Vampress; she spat some words in a humming language. The air in the room grew suddenly thick with a cloying smell that vanished as quickly as it came. Dietrich swore in frustration as what he’d feared came true. Agate had managed to heal enough to properly cast a spell. The spell's effects were instantaneous. Agate's body melted. Dissolving into a pool of blood that flooded out of her clothing and slithered along the stone floor with surprising speed. The Agate-Pool flowed towards the door and slipped underneath it with ease.

Dietrich followed after his quarry letting out a stream of curses collected from more than a century of military service. He didn’t bother to open the door and simply smashed through it. Inhuman muscle and the sheer momentum provided by his plate armor reduced the sturdy wood to splinters. Ahead of Dietrich, Agate had made good progress, squirming down the hallway with a strange flowing slither. Unfortunately for Agate, the hallway they’d entered was long and straight, with few avenues of escape. The laboratory Agate had taken for herself was located deep in the Castle’s bowls. Its isolation from the rest of the structure had protected her secrets and the wider Castle from any accidents. Now Agate regretted that choice as Dietrich closed in on her.

Like some stampeding beast, Dietrich charged down the hallway. Every step, a crash of metal as he paid no mind to stealth and pushed his body to supernatural heights. Dietrich closed in on Agate and started planning how to capture or kill her. He’d never been forced to fight a bloodform Vampire before. The talent was a rare thing. Only a handful of Strix linages could use with any sort of reliability. Unsheathing his executioner’s sword, Dietrich tried something experimental and launched the weapon before him like a javelin. His aim was true, but Agate dodged the impact of the huge weapon. She saw it as a threat, and that gave Dietrich ideas.

Picking up the weapon, Dietrich continued his assault. Getting close enough to swing the blade in a wide arc. Despite her efforts, part of the Agate-Pool was caught by the blade and was splattered onto a far wall. Instantly Agate’s movement changed. Parts of the puddle of blood dragged behind the central mass. Turning what had been a fairly compact wriggling shape into a longer, much more serpentine form. As he watched, Dietrich could see some of the scattered blood trying to rejoin the greater whole. Crimson droplets fell off his sword in defiance of gravity, towards the direction of his quarry.

Dietrich got another two good slashes at Agate, but neither did as much damage as the first. She was getting better at dodging them, and Dietrich had the worrying suspicion she wasn’t used to this ability and was markedly improving as they fought. Eventually, the hallway reached an intersection in the Castle’s labyrinthian tunnels. Agate flowed into the left passage with literally liquid agility.

Trying to follow, Dietrich gripped onto the wall’s corner and swung his weight into the turn. He miscalculated, and the crude masonry shattered under his weight, sending Dietrich skidding across the stone floor. Dietrich smashed into a wall and cracked the stone before recovering his balance and continuing the chase. His error had cost him, and Agate was far ahead of him. Growling in frustration, Dietrich tried to regain his momentum.

The chase continued, both Vampires flitting through the dark halls of the Castle. Dietrich never getting close enough to attack Agate but also never getting far enough away to lose her. But time was on Dietrich's side; if he could stop Agate from escaping long enough, other factors would come into play. The Sun would be rising soon, trapping Agate in the Castle and forcing her to fight against the supernatural exhaustion that came with dawn.

When sunrise came, it would leave both Vampires drained, but as the older and more stalwart of the two, Dietrich was confident he could outlast Agate. Even if the chase continued down into the lowest levels of the Castle and turned into a ridiculous game of cat-and-mouse, Dietrich still liked his odds. Something as complicated as turning into an animated pool of blood is not done easily. Eventually, Agate would be worn down, and Dietrich would break her.

Agate's destination became clear after a few more minutes of this hunt. She was headed for the main entrance to the Castle. Slithering up stairways and out of the catacombs beneath the Castle and towards its main entrance hall. It seemed Agate had decided to race the Sun. She might be able to get out of the castle before Dawn, but she would not be able to find safety in those moments. If day came and she managed to escape its light, the servants of the Court would track her down as she slowly fell into the torpor all Vampires experience during the day.

Agate slipped through the last pair of doors and made it into the atrium. Dietrich burst through the doors and followed behind, a hungry grin on his lips. This chase had grown infuriating, and he looked forward to ending it. The atrium was a large chamber with a pair of great doors in its front and back. The larger set was reinforced with steel binds and magic; these were the Castle's entrance. The other was an ornately carved set of double doors that led into the Castle proper. The sidewalls of the atrium held a few smaller portals that led elsewhere in the Castle. One of which Dietrich and Agates had exited.

Dietrich found Agate in front of the Castle’s gate. The rogue Vampire was in the process of reforming from her transformation. Blood congealed into muscle and bone, creating Agate’s body one layer at a time. Leaving a naked and exhausted-looking Agate before Dietrich. Vampires do not sweat, and pant like living creatures do with great exertion. Instead, Agate’s facsimile of life was lacking. Her skin was corpse-pale and taught. Muscles occasionally twitched as dark magic fought with rigor mortis. While Agate’s eyes were glassy and unblinking. She seemed like a fresh corpse in every manner except for the fact she stood upright and spoke. It was the most basic skill a young Vampire learned, to use the stolen blood of others to make their dead flesh act like it was alive. Without it, the beautiful and terrible Nocturnal Nobility looked like fresh corpses puppeteered by twitchy inhuman movements.

“Dietrich, you are a close-minded brute. Incapable of anything other than crude butchery. A dogmatic old fossil unworthy of my efforts even if I was willing to share them!” spat Agate from a raspy throat.

Dietrich looked around the atrium and saw the four Castle Guards standing at attention by the far wall. With a thought, he took control of them and moved the four plate-armored pawns to his flanks. Surrounding Agate on three sides. Leaving her only escape route, the Castle entrance. Dietrich raised his weapon to point at Agate and responded to her taunts.

“Agate Doruscion, this is your final chance. Surrender and face the Lord's Judgement. Or continue to resist and face mine.”

Agate made a pitiable sight, thin, waifish, and now gaunt from exhaustion. She’d used up her reserve of Blood and now was barely more than an intelligent ghoul. With his quarry backed into a corner, Dietrich expected some final trick. A nasty bit of magic or clever words to save herself or destroy him. He didn’t expect her to laugh.

The strange creaking noise came from Agate as her body failed to imitate life. Turning away from Dietrich, she put her hands on the Castle doors and started to push them open. The sturdy wood creaked as Agate spent what must have been the last bit of undead strength to open them. Dietrich's eyes widened in surprise, and he took a step forward as Agate stepped outside the Castle. The pale grey pre-dawn light illuminated the mountain pass and the town within it. It would only be moments before the sun broke over the peaks and flooded Glockmire. Stunned, Dietrich held out a hand towards Agate and barked.

“Are you mad? Surely death by my blade is preferable to burning in Sunlight? Return here, and I will promise you will die painlessly!”

Agate just laughed again and spun about in the pre-dawn light. Her arms were outstretched like a village girl dancing at a harvest festival. With every passing moment, the world grew brighter. Radiant death was seconds away, and Agate didn’t seem to care. Her coarse laughter elevated to a grating volume as Agate finally turned to look at Dietrich and smiled. Her colorless lips drew into a too-wide smile, exposing her fangs and white gums.

“Dietrich, what would you give to see the Sun again?” she asked, the wild-eyed Vampire uncaring to the lightning world around her.

Dietrich didn’t answer; he looked on in terror as the cresting sun started to shine down on the valley floor. It would come soon and with it, a terrible death. Agate laughed as the light came closer, an onrushing tide of fire ready to swallow them both. As the first hints of golden light touched Dietirchs eyes, he darted back into the Castle and slammed the doors shut. Inside the Castle, a deep bell toned, marking the arrival of day. Dietrich had escaped death by seconds and now slumped against the door, recollecting his nerves. He didn’t hear the screams he expected from Agate, but that was not unheard of. Some Vampires burned quietly.

Locking the gate shut and commanding the motionless Castle Guards to stand in front of the great door, Dietrich scurred away. Of all the terrible things in the world, none scared Dietrich like the sun. It was like that for all but the most jaded Vampire. The idea of Sunlight and the terrible death that came with it brought instinctual unbridled terror to Dietrich. A mark of the unnatural state his mind, body, and soul was trapped in.

Shaking away the fear, Dietrich sheathed his sword and moved toward his crypt. He’d be able to stay conscious long enough to dictate a report to one of his thralls, but not much more than that. Fighting to stay awake, Dietrich trudged down towards his lair. He tried to take solace in the fact he’d completed his duty. Agate was dead, and without her, he could destroy the caches of Undead at his leisure. But something still nagged at him, preventing Dietrich from feeling truly comfortable in his victory. Instincts born from decades of battle and slaughter whispered to Dietrich, telling him the fight wasn’t over yet.