Chapter 15: In the Blood

“The Strix are one of the older breeds of Vampire. Tracing back to a particularly foul group of Witches who viewed Vampirism as a form of ascension. Some legends say an Alukah was involved in that Coven’s founding but I think that’s horseshit. Whenever those monsters pop up in the record you know for certain. But what I do know is the Strix are magically talented, crafty bastards. Which makes them even more dangerous than their more physically impressive cousins like the Strigoi. When dealing with them, your best bet is to burn them out of their lair and not even try to play their games”- Philip Hardspade, Archeologist and unofficial Rest-Bringer.

The day Cole left Glockmire proved to be one of the most stressful days in Natalie Striga’s life. Natalie held her breath from the moment the grizzled Paladin left the Silly Goat,, waiting for calamity to come. Hours ticked by as early morning bled into mid-afternoon, yet nothing happened. The bones of Lorena the Vampire lay out in the street, surrounded by broken glass and drying blood. Undisturbed, but not unnoticed. No one came for breakfast that morning, and townsfolk avoided passing too close to the Silly Goat. The Inn had become isolated from the rest of Glockmire, fear, and uncertainty keeping people away.

Wilhelm didn’t say anything about the kiss Natalie and Cole had shared. He didn’t say much of anything throughout the morning, the stress getting to the usually gregarious man. Eventually, by Eleven o’clock, exhaustion took its toll, and Wilhelm fell asleep in the back room of the Inn. Slumping over a table and snoring like a particularly weary Oxen. Natalie felt guilt and worry at seeing her father's worn state. She knew consciously it was not her fault, but that did little to halt the feelings. After putting a clean blanket over Wilhelm, Natalie left him to his sleep and tried to distract herself.

While she was feeling the beginnings of sleep deprivation, Natalie’s taught nerves prevented her from even considering sleep. Instead of resting, Natalie got to work. She finished cleaning up the tavern and got it presentable for customers. As she admired her handiwork, Natalie looked outside and saw the bones in the road. That sight brought an uncomfortable idea to her. Would the Silly Goat have Customers again? Even if the Lord and his minions didn’t haul her and her father off, would the People of Glockmire return to the tavern? People worrying over what might happen could destroy her father and his business just as easily as something actually happening.

Pushing away this new source of anxiety, Natalie turned her attention elsewhere. It was getting cold inside the Inn, despite the logs Natalie had put on the fire. A draft chilled the normally cozy building, and Natalie knew the source. Going upstairs, she found the room Cole had rented. Its window had been utterly destroyed. Having a hundred or so kilos of Vampire and Vampire hunter go through it had shattered its panes and ripped its frame. Surprisingly the ruined window was the only real evidence of the fight. Natalie had expected blood stains and more ruined furniture for some reason.

Looking around more closely, Natalie did notice abnormalities. Sitting on the dresser near the window was a small pile of coins. A handful of silver and bronze coins lay there. Natalie had to stop herself from laughing when she realized the source and purpose of the coinage. Cole had left money to pay for the window. It was a silly little thing, but it made Natalie smile. The idea of waiting a year to see that strange, wonderful man suddenly seemed unbearable. Longing and a sense of loss filled Natalie. Grabbing the coins, she left the room and went to find some old sheets.

Forcing herself to move forward and not sulk or stew, Natalie deposited the coins in her room and grabbed a few worn sheets. The ragged cloth was destined to become rags soon, but until then, she could get another use out of them. Natalie returned to the broken window and started hanging up the sheets as a make-shift covering. Layering three of the bed sheets to block cold autumn wind coming through the window. As she worked, Natalie felt something crunch against her foot. Looking down, she expected to find a piece of glass that somehow managed to end up inside. As a waitress, she knew better than most how far shattered glass could spread. Ending up in all manner of improbable places. Instead of powdered glass, she found bits of grey soot. Patches of ash dotted the floor.

After a moment of confusion, Natalie understood what she was looking at. That confusion turned to shock and then revulsion as the realization filtered through her. The flesh and blood of a Vampire turns to ash when destroyed. These smears of soot were remnants of Lorena, bits of her blood that Cole had spilled. Shivering at the idea, Natalie looked out the window through the hole she’d yet to cover and saw the bones still lying outside. The notion of grabbing a hammer and turning those blackened bones to powder and scattering them to the four winds suddenly seemed very appealing to Natalie.

Lorena had come into her home and entertained herself by tormenting Natalie. The Vampire had explicitly and implicitly threatened to kill Natalie and everyone she loved. Keeping Natalie at the edge of panic for hours. It had been a form of torture, not the grandiose acts of mutilation whispered to happen in the Nobility's dungeons. But it still had been torture, a subtler and more elegant kind. Natalie had once heard Lock, the local Priest of Uncle Trickster, say that fear of pain is worse than actual pain. How dark anticipation and anxiety could do more to hurt a person than almost any act of violence. After her experience with the Vampire and the subsequent night of waiting, Natalie could not agree more with Lock.

Returning to her work, Natalie finished covering the window and went to find a broom and dustbin. While she knew going out in the street and smashing up the waiting bones of Lorena would probably not result in anything good. Natalie still intended to get a little bit of catharsis. Carefully Natalie swept up every bit of ash and (as she expected) broken glass she could find in the room. It wasn’t much, but Natalie still took the time to take the dustbin out to the latrine and dump the Vampire's remains into the cesspit with all the other filth.

Back in the inn proper, Natalie had a little spring in her step. She knew what she’d done was juvenile beyond words, but it still had brought more than a little vindictive glee. With that done, Natalie realized she’d run out of chores. She and her father had both kept busy throughout the night doing everything that needed to be done, so the few distractions she had left were finished quickly. Natalie briefly considered taking a nap like her father, but she was still too tightly wound for that. With her immediate responsibilities finished, Natalie decided to try and relax a little. Grabbing one of the pieces of wood she kept for such an occasion, Natalie sat down in the inn and started to carve.

Stockings, the Cat joined her nearby, enjoying the fireplace's heat on the cold fall day. The cat lounged with the haughty grace only a feline could manage, and Natalie was drawn to carving the sight. Hoping to catch the moment in wood, Natalie started to cut the piece of Aspen. She stopped before she could really start as a thought made her innards twinge. Her actions were a near-perfect repeat of when Cole first came to town. Sitting by the fire, with only the cat for company, carving knife in hand. Letting out a slight moan, Natalie slumped back into her chair. She was facing the same problem over and over. Try how she might distract and comfort herself, but her traitorous mind kept looping back to topics she was trying to avoid.

After maybe half an hour of idly whittling by herself; Natalie was surprised when the Inn’s door slowly opened. Leaping from her chair and turning her carving knife at the newcomer, Barnabas entered the Silly Goat, casting furtive glances around. Worry lines were carved deep into the old man's face, and his jaw was set with the type of nervous strength only seen in someone pushing past their fears.

When he saw Natalie, standing there with her knife out and eyes wild, Barnabas visibly relaxed. Shutting the door behind him, the merchant moved to Natalie with surprising speed. Natalie lowered her knife, and the two embraced in momentary relief. Breaking the hug, Barnabas looked Natalie over, making sure she really was alive and in one piece.

Looking around the tavern again, Barnabas asked, “Your father is he…?”

Natalie actually smiled at that. “No, he is asleep in the back. It was a long night, and neither of us slept.”

More of the tension bled out of Barnabas at learning the last bit of family he had in the world was alive and well. “The town’s been in utter chaos all morning. Something happened up in the Castle, and it's got the Guards jumpy. It took me a bit to talk my way past then and get here.”

The audacity of the slightly hunched old man before her made Natalie’s smile bloom into a full grin. One Barnabas answered with his own smile, one that turned melancholic as he continued talking. “The guards said something happened here. So when I saw that bloody skeleton outside, I assumed the worst.”

Pausing for a moment, Barnabas gestured out the door he’d entered and asked, “If you and Wilhelm are safe, then who in the Jagging Beyond is that outside?”

Those words pulled every little bit of good humor out of the room. Leaving Natalie with nothing but grim truth to relay. “Those bones belonged to a Vampire. It came to the tavern last night looking for Cole.”

Natalie hated how her words drained the color from Barnabas’s already pale skin

. “The Vampire threatened me and everyone in the tavern. Dad managed to empty the tavern before things got bad. I don’t know what exactly happened but Cole and the Vampire fought. He won.”

Slightly stunned, Barnabas asked for clarification. “Cole killed a Vampire? I… wouldn’t believe it if you weren’t telling me.”

Natalie nodded somberly. “I saw it with my own eyes. He tackled the damned thing out of the second story window and cut its head off.”

“Where is he now?” asked Barnabas, worry mixing with awe in his voice. While the people of Glockmire knew Vampires were not truly immortal. That knowledge was an abstract and alien thing. Just as the people of this mountain town knew of Deserts and how their heat could burn a man to death; they knew a Vampire could die. Words could not do the idea justice; only experience could.

Natalie had felt a similar shock earlier, but her own experiences with Cole had lessened the impact. “Cole stayed with us until dawn, then he left. He wanted to make sure nothing else happened last night but also didn’t want to stay and invite reprisals on us.”

Barnabas frowned and grunted. “I can’t forgive him for bringing this heaping pile of shit to your door, but I can respect him for trying to fix it. It takes courage to do that, even if it's the act of a dead man.”

“What?” sputtered Natalie, sudden confusion and shock hitting her.

Looking at his adopted Niece, Barnabas wore a serious look. “He killed one of the Nobles. They won’t take that well. The Castle is busy today, and I don’t think that is a coincidence. Come dusk; they will hunt him down. If he’s lucky, they will just kill him then, and if he’s not, they will capture him alive. You know what they do to mundane prisoners like poor Felix. Imagine what they will do to someone who actually killed one of their own?”

Images of Coles's scarred body flickered through Natalie’s mind. She could guess full well what Vampire did to those who angered them. Cole had all but admitted to being tortured by Vampires on more than one occasion when she’d pushed him.

Internally, Natalie pieced together more of the puzzle around Cole. He’d loved a Vampire and been her “favorite.” until another Vampire killed her and probably captured Cole. Somehow he’d survived his imprisonment, escaped, and became a Paladin of Master Time. A series of events that raised countless questions; one’s Natalie had hoped to ask him in Vindabon. But now, the prospect of their reunion seemed impossible. That idea sent a deep, ugly pang through Natalie. The idea of never seeing Cole again hurt; it hurt with an internal ache that she lacked words to describe.

It ached so much that Natalie asked Barnabas a question. “Barnabas, what does it feel like to be in love?”

The words spilled out of her before she was truly cognizant of what they were. Instantly embarrassment flushed Natalie’s face scarlet, and she looked away from Barnabas. The old man slumped against a nearby table and swore. Letting out a particularly foul Dwerick curse, that Natalie was fairly certain had to do with molesting Mountain Goats.

While he didn’t say anything, it was clear Barnabas had understood the implied meaning of her words. After a moment, he grumbled, “With all the fine young lads and lasses in town. She goes and falls for a Jagging Rest-Bringer.” The complaint was for his own benefit, not hers, but it still brought a new twinge of embarrassment.

Ignoring Natalie’s awkward fidgeting, Barnabas sat down at the table and seemed to ponder his words for a moment before answering. “People always describe it differently. But for Niall and me, it was this feeling of completeness. We helped each other be better and brought each other joy. He… would push me past my cynicism, and I could be a rock for him to rely on. Or at least I always tried to be.”

Barnabas rarely talked about his husband, Niall. They’d met on the road and fallen in love decades ago. Running Glockmire’s largest trading post together until an accident on the road killed Niall about fifteen years ago. A tragedy that now Natalie realized had been her first real exposure to death.

Looking at Natalie with a neutral expression, Barnabas elaborated on his description. “Love is also something that grows and changes. It starts as seeds of infatuation and interest but only can become something more through time and effort. Love needs to be cultivated and cared for. Young love is fragile, which can be a good or bad thing. It makes it easy to ruin, but it also makes it easy to fix. Even if fixing it is a process done with someone new.”

That got a wince from Natalie. She could always count on Barnabas to be equal parts wise and abrasive. The old merchant pressed forward, as steady and sure as one of his caravans. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t hurt. It's okay too, and it's what you are supposed to do. Grief is a real Slattern, but it's also important. Just… just don’t let it destroy you. Like it almost did me.”

Sitting down opposite of Barnabas, Natalie mulled over his words and started to consider things. While Barnabas could very well be right, that Cole was doomed. But he didn’t know Cole was a Paladin. A factor that might shift things outside of Barnabas’s prognostications. Natalie figured that if the Vampires captured Cole, they would ensure the townsfolk knew. The Rest-Bringer had become known around town, and the fact he killed a Vampire would not remain secret for long. They would make sure everyone knew he was dead. So as long as there was no news about Cole, it meant he was alive. Having that sort of worry over her head would not be fun, but it still brought Natalie some hope.

More discussion on the topic was cut short when Wilhelm entered the tavern proper. Bleary-eyed and still tired-looking. The innkeeper smiled at seeing Barnabas and shuffled over to the kitchen. Not quite awake and still drained from the night's terrors, Wilhelm started cooking. It was an attempt to return to normalcy but also a demonstration of the type of man Wilhelm was. If there was stress and worry, he’d do his best to make sure people had good food to lessen the burden.

Despite it being a little past noon, Wilhelm made a breakfast of champions for his daughter and friend. Natalie tried to get up and help on multiple occasions, but her Dad simply shooed her away each time. He wanted to make a meal for them all to enjoy and would brook no intrusions in his kitchen. The last night had rattled Wilhelm, and he sought to regain control over his life again. Where a lesser man might give into anger or frustration at those feelings. The innkeeper found a more constructive outlet. Presiding over his kitchen and making sure no one under his roof wa hungry.

When her father dropped his first finished product, a bowl of oatmeal, before her, Natalie dug into the food ravenously. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she tasted the mellow sweetness of the oat's honey. The plate of sausage, eggs, and toast that came next didn’t last long either. Terror and worry had suppressed her hunger for too long, and now the simple needs of the body came back in a roaring rampage. Barnabas, for his part, was still finishing his oatmeal when Natalie had completed her entire meal. The old man watched her with bemusement and remarked: “I haven’t seen you eat like that in years. Not since you put on all that height. You are already taller than me, Natalie. How much bigger do you intend to get?”

Natalie rolled her eyes at the gentle ribbing and responded between her final mouthfuls. “I’m trying not to look like something the crows have picked over. You could learn from my example, Barnabas.”

That got a bark of laughter from the wiry old codger, and as easily as that, they returned to their old rhythm. Natalie and Barnabas sparred wits while Wilhelm laughed and occasionally chimed in. As the last bits of the morning turned into afternoon, Natalie put the stress and worry in their place. All was not right with the world, but little bits of it could be close. Like the little piece, she and her family made together.

Hours passed by, with the three of them enjoying each other's company. Until a surprising interruption came. The door to the inn opened, and Natalie spun in her chair to see the newcomer, expecting the worst. So she was pleasantly surprised when she saw Matko and his family at the door. The stout miner always reminded Natalie of some great slab of granite. Squat and broad-shouldered, the man looked somewhat out of place surrounded by his brood. Seven children of ages ranging from early teens to mid-adolescence crowded around Matko and his wife, Maria. Tall and willowy, her appearance contrasted heavily with her husband. None of their kids had inherited the full portion of each parent's appearance. And mixed thick frames with long limbs.

Matko looked at the trio of Wilhelm, Barnabas, and Natalie for a moment before asking ‘Uh, are you open for business?”

Wilhelm didn’t hesitate at all and waived them in. “Of course, let me whip something up for you all!”

The family found a table, with Maria herding her children to places around it. Wilhelm got to work cooking up a meal for his customers. Natalie got up from her place by Barnabas and started getting drinks for the Miner and his family. An awkward silence filled the tavern, and Natalie passed out cups of water, juice, and weak wine to the customers. Eventually, Barnabas broke the tension with his usual bluntness.

“So what are you lot doing here? I knew I was stupid enough to wander the streets but didn’t think anyone else would risk it.”

Matko shifted uncomfortably for a moment before answering. “They shut the mine; Daymen aren’t letting anyone work. So I figured instead of lounging about, I would take the family out for a treat. And the only place you can get any decent food outside of my Wife’s kitchen is the Silly Goat.”

Wilhelm beamed and answered jovially, “Well, happy to have the customers. Now, do you have anything special you’d like?.”

Natalie let her father and their customers get down to the brass tacks as she wandered over to the front door. Looking out the nearby windows, she felt her blood chill and a question form on her lips. The skeleton was gone; someone had moved it from its crude resting place. Natalie wanted to shout, demanding an explanation from Matko’s family, but she stopped herself. They would know nothing, and all she would do was frighten the children. Biting back that instinct and plastering a smile onto her face, Natalie went back to refill drinks and distract herself.

The next hour went by peacefully enough with the semi-organized chaos of feeding a large family filling the Silly Goat. Children laughed, joked, and argued. Barnabas and Matko found time to talk while Natalie made conversation with Maria. Stockings the Cat let herself be subjected to the attention and affection of seven different children. Displaying the aloof temperance only a worldly feline might have for energetic children.

Natalie worked to keep the missing skeleton from her mind and mostly succeeded. The afternoon turned into a bizarre mix of normal business hours and a family brunch. It ended soon enough, and Matko paid Wilhelm while his wife herded the kids out of the Inn. Just before following his family, Matko took Natalie aside and whispered to her.

“I don’t know what happened here last night, but I do know it’s got the Daymen wound-tight, and they’ve been taking it out on all of us. That isn’t right, and everyone knows it, but fear will make plenty of folks stupid. Ignoring and shunning you and your father.”

Natalie started to answer, but Matko continued. “I heard Master Cole left town this morning, and before that, he did something to cause a stir. While he might have left and I can’t do anything to help him. You are still here Natalie, and I’m happy to help you any way I can..”

Matko’s throat caught as he tried to finish his thoughts. “You two got justice for my little girl. That means more than I can put in words. So whatever happens, know this, there are people in this town who respect what you did, Natalie.”

The burly miner followed his family out into the street and left the Silly Goat. Natalie watched them go. As they turned onto another street, Natalie made a decision. She scurried from the Inn and into the street. Her father shouted after her, but Natalie ignored his protests. She went to the spot where Lorena had died. Hoping to get a modicum of understanding about what happened.

The bones had been moved, leaving only a small patch of ash on the cobblestones. It hadn’t rained, and the wind wasn’t bad enough to do more than smear the gray dust along the road. Nervously, Natalie looked up and down the street, ensuring no one was watching. Seeing no sign of being observed, she bent down to look at the ash. No footprints or wheel ruts were present in the powder. No sign that anyone had come by and taken the bones. Aside from their absence, of course.

Shivering slightly, Natalie got a strange sense she was being watched. Looking up and around, she saw nothing other than her father crossing over to join her. Standing up, Natalie turned back towards the Silly Goat.

Cutting off her father's worried words, Natalie spoke. “Sorry, Dad, I just wanted to check; let's go back inside.”

That placated Wilhelm and Natalie followed him back towards the Inn. Just before she entered, Natalie felt a shadow pass over her. It was just a momentary thing, but for a brief second, she swore that something large had blocked out the afternoon Sun. That sensation pushed Natalie to scurry inside the Inn. Before she shut it behind her, Natalie looked around once more. Seeing no sign of the shadow, she shut the door and prayed she was overthinking things.

The next three days passed by without incident. While the Silly Goat had fewer customers than normal, it still did steady business. The lure of good drink and good food steadily increasing the number of townsfolk willing to push past any newly created taboos. Throughout that time, no news of Cole came to Natalie. Something she decided was a good sign. He hadn’t been caught and was still out there.

Idly, Natalie wondered how much the Paladin talked to the Skull when by himself. The thought had a slightly sour tinge, and Natalie realized why. She was jealous, jealous of the cursed Vampire skull. An idea that sounded ridiculous but rang true. Natalie found herself in the unenviable position of falling for a tortured soul bound to a God of Death and enthralled by a Vampire’s ghost. Those slightly bitter thoughts thankfully didn’t last long as Natalie refocused on her task of cleaning up after the breakfast crowd. In the three days since the incident, the old pre-Cole rhythm of life had returned.

The only serious difference was Barnabas spending even more time in the Inn. While he wouldn’t admit it, events had rattled the old merchant; and he felt the need to keep a protective eye over his adopted family. Natalie was grateful for his presence and found having the company kept her occupied. Staying busy was proving to be important for Natalie’s sanity. While not much had changed within the Silly Goat, a pall had been cast over the town.

The mine had stayed shut, with no word on why or how long it would stay that way. Rumors spoke of strange cargo being unloaded at the quarry at night and of some sort of large excavation happening. There had also been more than one disappearance. Most jarring of which was Gurni. The Dwarven miner refused to abandon his claim and apparently got into a shouting match with some of the Daymen. One loud enough to be heard in a different neighborhood. Gurni hadn’t been seen since the night of the argument.

It was not the only incident of the like, and bizarrely in the aftermath, more people were coming to the Tavern and pretending things were normal. Natalie couldn’t tell if they were trying to drink away their worries or hoped if they pretended hard enough, things would be okay. Ultimately this left Natalie and the rest of Glockmire with a metaphorical sword hanging overhead. An ever-present threat that might drop at any time. Natalie, for her part, reacted better than most of the customers she saw. On more than one occasion, she witnessed a full-grown man reduced to drunken blubbering as the stress got to him. Everyone in Glockmire knew something had changed, and not for the better. They just had no clue what exactly had changed.

As the days passed, Natalie got the worrying sense that whatever was happening was more than the incident with Cole. Several Daymen who lived in town had disappeared the night Lorena and Cole fought. No official word had come from the Castle on this matter. Only nervous-looking Daymen with strange demands that few townsfolk were willing to question.

Ultimately all these events led to where Natalie was, in the Silly Goat, waiting down the clock. Simultaneously cherishing every moment and wishing time would speed by faster. A paradoxical situation brought on by her desire to leave Glockmire but not leave her family. Just as Natalie finished cleaning the last table, the tavern door opened as the first of the lunch crowd arrived. Turning to the door, Natalie prepared to greet whoever had arrived. Words died on her lips when she who’d stepped through the door.

Short and slightly hunched over, the sickly form of Simon the Dayman filled the doorway. On either side of him were Castle Guards. Silent armored shapes that loomed over the smaller man. Simon strowed into the Inn with the same dismissive air he’d shown the last time. After a moment, the Dayman’s attention fell on Natalie. A sickly smile split the waxy-eyed man’s face, and he gestured to her.

“Take her.”

The world stopped for a single terrible moment as confusion and shock slowed time. Natalie tried to muster up her usually glib tongue and argue with the Daymen. Before she could so much as speak, a loud shout of “NO!” filled the inn. Wilhelm vaulted over the bar with surprising agility and put himself between his daughter and the Daymen. Fear had pushed the middle-aged man to impressive speeds, and he’d arrived before the Guards could take more than a step forward.

“What is the meaning of this?” cried Wilhelm. “We have been good citizens of Lord Glockmire. My daughter has done nothing to warrant this! The Lord’s will protects us!”

Old Barnabas had hobbled to his feet and was coming to join the argument. The guards stopped advancing on Natalie, and the Daymen instead stepped forward. Looking Wilhelm up and down, Simon answered.

“That might have been true, once; but things change. ”

Moving faster than Natalie could register, Simon plunged his forearm into Wilhelm. Driving his hand clean through the Innkeeper's body and out through his back. Flesh tore and bone snapped in a sickening cacophony. Wilhelm looked down at where he’d been impaled, confusion showing on his face. Simon pulled his arm free and let Wilhelm’s ruined body fall to the floor. Blood exploded from the terrible injury, and Wilhelm tried and failed to breathe. Bubbling red spit dribbled from his lips, and his eyes were wide with shock.

Raising one hand toward his daughter Wilhelm wheezed: “Natty…”

Wilhelms's hand fell to his side and blood poured more slowly from him. The last bits of the Innkeeper's life draining away with his blood, leaving only a corpse. Wilhelm Striga was dead.

Natalie started to scream. The type of pained horrified scream that could ruin voices and wake the dead. Barnabas stumbled over to Wilhelm, a rictus of pain carved onto the old man’s face. Barnabas bellowed for his friend to stay with them, and his voice joined Natalie’s shriek in a duet of loss. Simon watched this with unconcerned boredom. Only taking the time to wipe the away viscera with a handkerchief.

Cold metal fingers clamped over Natalie’s shoulders and wrists, dragging her away from her father's body. Natalie’s perspective tunneled down onto the sight of her father dead on the floor. As the Castle Guards dragged her towards the door, it was all she could see. The terrible reality of what had just occurred crashed into her like an avalanche. Sense and understanding started to seep back into Natalie, and she began to thrash and pull at her captors. It was no use; the Castle Guards resisted her attempts to break free without a modicum of effort. But as she fought, Natalie caught sight of Simon, standing nearby, licking the last few drops of her father's blood from his hand. Just then, Natalie saw his fangs, hidden before, but now present for all to see. Simon was a Vampire, a Vampire out in daylight. Something that should be impossible.

As the Castle Guards dragged her from the Inn, Natalie stopped her struggling and shouted a message. Her only hope for salvation and vengeance.

“BARNABAS!” the old merchant’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. The pall of shock started to fade from him slightly as Natalie caught his attention. “FIND COLE! HE CAN HELP”

Recognition flickered across Barnabas’s face, but before Natalie could elaborate, Simon loomed over her. Catching her eyes with his own. A psychic hammer blow hit Natalie, an overpowering command that tore through her defenses and ordered her to sleep.

Natalie’s dreams were terrible things. Of blood and darkness. Visions of her mother being bitten in half and her father being impaled. Interrupted only by the vague sensation of being carried, and the hot-copper smell of fresh blood. Natalie tried to force away the dreams, trying to escape the nightmare. All she managed to do was distort them into new terrible variations. Versions where her parents died slower, more horrible deaths or other people joined them in their demise.

Distantly, Natalie knew she was crying, but she didn't care. A world submerged in hollow grief was better than the charnel house her mind currently showed for her. Red misery and bitter loss consumed her, and Natalie started to wonder if she’d ever known anything else.

As those terrible thoughts filled her mind, something else joined them. A light, a cold blue light in the distance of her unconscious. On instinct and a desire to escape the whirling hell-scape of dreams, Natalie pushed towards the light. As she struggled forward, a great pressure started to tighten around her. Natalie felt like she couldn’t breathe, like all life and air were being squeezed from her, yet she pushed towards the light. It grew brighter and brighter, resolving into a blue sky above a rippling meniscus. Suddenly a hand reached down from the light and grabbed her. It bodily pulled her from whatever mind-scape she’d been stuck in and deposited her on solid ground.

Coughing and twitching, Natalie blinked away red and looked around her. She was on a riverbank. A grassy meadow covered in Lilys stretched out around her, interrupted only by a mellow stream that she lay next to. Looking down at herself, Natalie realized she was covered in blood, not her own, but still fresh and foul. Getting to her feet slowly, Natalie looked at the stream, where she’d been pulled free. The crystal blue water was polluted near her; clouds of smoky scarlet billowed in the creek. Uncaring of the current, blood stained the river, and its sight sent a shiver up Natalie’s spine.

Speaking more to herself than anybody else, Natalie asked, “Is this still a dream?”

“Yep, this is a dream.” answered a mellow voice from nearby. Natalie whirled in shock to see standing nearby, a tall, wiry man wearing a wide-brimmed hat and casting a fishing pole into the river. Try as she might, Natalie couldn’t discern the man’s features. They seemed to shift each time she looked. Hidden under the hat’s brim and changing every time the shadows played over them.

Some part of Natalie told her this wasn’t another figment of her overtaxed mind, but someone entering her dream. Cautiously, she tried to get answers.

“Who are you?”

Instead of answering, the fishermen gestured toward her and spoke. “Did you know the process of falling asleep is a lot like dying? Your heart beats slower, your breaths become shallower, and your mind does all sorts of strange things. It's so much like death, in fact, that your body takes the time to twitch and make sure you aren’t actually dying.”

Confused, Natalie responded with a flat: “What?”

Seemingly not registering her words, the Angler kept talking. “In fact, people seem to wish sleep would just turn into death when the time comes. The idea of dying in your sleep seems to appeal to most people. Which I guess makes sense in a way.”

The line of the Angler’s pole twitched, and the strange fisherman stopped to pull on the rod. He wrestled with his catch for a few moments before pulling it free from the water. Instead of the fish Natalie had expected. A shifting ball of silver smoke clung to the end of the line. The Angler brought it close and plucked the mercurial sphere from his fishing line. The Angler set the sphere down on the ground nearby with unusual tenderness, where it melted away into wisps of grey vapor.

Casting the line out again, the fishermen continued speaking. “There was once a people who lived along a great river that stretched across an entire continent. For these people, the river was the focus of their entire lives. Everything that was, is, and will be, could be traced to the river. Their beliefs reflected this. Each God or Spirit they worshiped was connected to that great river.”

Stepping closer to the river bank and peering into it, observing his reflection, the Fishermen continued. “Including their God of Death. Who they saw as a great Angler who plucked souls from the world when it was their time.”

Turning to face her, the Fisherman smiled sadly. “Those people are gone now. Their world faded away eons ago. Few care to remember them, but I do. The way they viewed me always struck a certain…cord. So I wear this form when I can to honor their memory.”

Understanding blossomed in Natalie’s mind, and she looked at the Angler and his pale blue eyes. A strange shade she’d seen only once before. The being before her had Cole’s eyes. Slowly trying to find her words, Natalie asked her host. “Am I dead?”

The Angler smiled sadly and shook his head in the negative. “I already told you, you’re dreaming. Which happens to be just close enough for me to speak to you.”

Disoriented and chilled, Natalie asked another question. She knew the answer to this one as well but still wanted confirmation. “Are you Master Time?”

The Angler bowed to her with a dramatic flourish. His wide-brimmed hat nearly falling from his head. “In the metaphysical flesh. I must apologize for my… ham-handedness in our earlier encounters. Interacting with mortals without the proper medium makes my touch a tad bit ungentle.”

Natalie shivered at the memory of that oppresive coldness slamming against her soul. It was hard to imagine that brutal icy power belonged to the same being that stood before her. But some instinct whispered truths to Natalie. What she was seeing was not truly Master Time. It was a mask he wore for her comfort. A form animated in her mind to not further injure her already wounded soul.

“Why are you here?” asked Natalie “What are you doing?

The Angler set down his fishing pole and turned to face her fully. With a gentle, almost sorrowful tone he answered. “Doing what I can to help you. There are limits on my power, but it's within my grasp to do this. Petar, the Vampire who knocked you out is a cruel creature. He would have let you stew in the nightmares his power created. I can ensure the rest of your sleep is unbothered by his malice.”

Confused, Natalie started to ask “Petar? The Vampire who attacked me was named Simon…oh,” More understanding arrived as Natalie got another reason for Master Time wearing a mask to their meeting. Simon the Dayman was a mask Petar the Vampire wore.

Nodding at her recognition, Master Time spoke. “I don’t know how much you will remember from this when you wake up. But I hope a little of my message will stick when you awake.”

The riverbank around them started to fade, dissipating into foggy shadows. Master Time tsked with annoyance and spoke more quickly. “Consciousness is coming soon. So just remember this if you can. Do not lose hope and when all seems lost, remember your Mothers gift to you. “

The image of the Angler faded away and Natalie felt herself start to fall through the ground. Hurtling through wisps of blurry fog. The sensation of falling pushed Natalie awake.

Sitting up with a gasp of surprise, Natalie blinked away sleep and looked at her surroundings. She was lying on an oddly shaped couch in an obscenely opulent sitting room. A number of overstuffed couches and chairs littered the room, all surrounding a fireplace the size of her bed back home. Strange green flames danced in the hearth, casting witch-light shadows over the room. Looking down, Natalie realized she was wearing a slip she didn’t recognize and nothing else. Before she could contemplate even worrying about what that implied, a voice called out.

“Ah, you are finally awake, good.”

Sitting across from her in a large high-backed armchair was Petar. While she’d known the old-looking Vampire as Simon, something inside her told of his true name. It was one of a few nagging hunches that pulled at Natalie’s mind. Things she would need to examine later if there was a later.

Petar was dressed in a posh suit and cravat that didn’t quite match his shabby, ragged look. He looked like someone had taken a particularly large rat and stuffed it into a gentlemen's outfit. His unkempt stubble, receding hairline, and unblinking waxy eyes added to the contradiction. A Vampire who did not look the part.

Standing up with a liquid grace that seemed at odds with his body, Petar looked over Natalie with an appraising eye. “I’d been hoping to wait and enjoy this, but circumstances have called for me to move up my timetable.”

Natalie tried not to shiver at the emotionless predation implied in those words but failed. Petar saw her shiver and sniffed dismissively. “I am not going to rob you of your virtue. You flatter yourself if you think I’d go through the effort. What I want is much more simple. Your blood.”

Confused and not any less alarmed, Natalie looked at the Vampire without comprehension. Petar did not seem to notice or care about her expression and continued speaking.

“I’ve run into an issue. One that requires a fortune of power to resolve. While I already have such a fortune at my disposal, wasting it on this would not be productive. So when you came to my attention, I could not pass up the opportunity.”

The smell of rotting flesh and wet dog slammed into Natalie, and she nearly lept from the couch in utter terror. She knew that smell; she would never forget that smell. The rustle of fur and padding of great paws filled the room as a huge shape resolved itself from the shadows. The Varcolac, the beast that killed Natalie’s mother, was in the room with her.

Frozen in terror, Natalie watched as Petar went over to the foul thing and stroked its head like it was a loyal hound. “This toy of mine was what first alerted me to this opportunity. It was badly damaged by that fool Dietrich three years ago. For a while, I thought I might have to put it down and recycle the parts. But then something surprising happened. My Varcolac healed from its wounds far faster than I expected and grew not only in size but strength. An interesting result I needed to investigate.”

Scratching between its shredded ears, Petar kept speaking. “Varcolacs get stronger when they feed, particularly if their food is magically potent. So I went through the records and pleas for vengeance to find out exactly who did my pet eat. It was an impressively long list that ended with your Mother. Someone who immediately caught my eye. A strange outsider that no one knew anything about? That was worth investigating.”

A new terrible chill cooled Natalie’s blood even more. Making it feel like pure mountain run-off was flowing through her veins.

“My search started promising but never got anywhere definitive until I had the chance to stop by your Father’s place of business. Where I saw you and more importantly, that little bird in your hair.”

Natalie reached up to her hairclip. The silver ornament was still there, keeping her hair wrapped up. Petar gestured at the ornament and elaborated. “I could hardly believe my eyes at the time, but when I saw it, many things made sense. That hairclip is the sigil of House Strixscion. One of the high breeding families of the Captial.”

In half a whisper, Natalie asked for elaboration. “House Strixscion?”

Petar smiled widely, his previously hidden fangs now on full display. “Do you know how we Vampires reproduce?”

Natalie had a few ideas but did not know for certain, so she shook her head no. That seemed to be the answer Petar was hoping to hear. “We drink a prospective Vampire to near death and pour our blood into them. The fresh blood kills the blessed person and raises them up as a Vampire at the next dusk. To do this is a significant investment for a Vampire, and we work hard to find good potential scions. It’s an awful lot of work, and Duke Drakovich’s inner circle wished to streamline the processes. Putting our immortality to use in breeding valuable livestock. Cultivating families over centuries to produce mortals with features and aptitudes useful for any prospective Vampire.”

Natalie felt sick. If what Petar was saying, her Mother had escaped from something even worse than the fate she herself had been trying to flee. Natalie had wanted to escape being livestock; Iona had escaped being a broodmare.

After relishing Natalie's dawning comprehension and horror, Petar continued his grotesque lecture. “Of all the breeding families, none produce more prized stock than House Strixscion. Beautiful, intelligent, and most importantly talented in Blood Magic.”

Natalie’s eyes shot up to where Petar loomed over her, confusion etched on her face. “Yes, every member of that House is a natural-born Savant in Blood Magic. A very useful attribute for a Vampire.”

Suddenly a few things made sense. When Natalie had tried to start the fire with Cole’s spark-stone, she’d created a jet of flame. Back then, she’d thought it was Cole’s blood on the stone that had created the fire. Which it had been, but with Natalie’s influence drawing it far more power than dried blood should be able to. This fact also brought up a few new questions.

“Why didn’t the Temple say anything? They are supposed to inform people of magical potential at their Rite of Youth?”

At that, Petar actually laughed, a dry hacking sound that lacked any truly joyful mirth. “The Gods prefer to leave those details out. They prefer not to let every potential Necromancer, Blood-Mage and Fleshcrafter know what they can do. It's one of the dirty little secrets of the Temple.”

At this point so many emotions, so many revelations spilled over Natalie that she had to partially shut down. So much had happened, her ability to process and understand it all was flagging. Petar would not let her have the opportunity to collapse or digest what she was learning. He added a final terrible secret to this growing pile.

Stepping back towards the huge wolf-monster, Petar gestured at it. “This leads us back to my toy here. Members of House Strixscion are not just prized as potential Vampires. But as useful bloodmeals. Some of that magical savantism in your blood can be used by whoever drinks it. A property I intend to use to its fullest for my purposes. I’m going to drink you to death Natalie Striga.”

In a quiet monotone, Natalie asked, “Why are you telling me this? Why not just kill me and get it over with?”

Returning to his position of looming over her, Petar answered in a matter-the-fact way. “Because fear and despair make you taste better. They form a wonderful spice.”

In another flash of insight, Natalie knew that was not the whole truth. Spending her entire life working in a Tavern, Natalie learned a lot about the different types of people who liked to talk. Petar stunk of the type who was so isolated that he’d to talk to anyone he could. Normally she found this type in old Widowers, merchants who’d spent too long on the road, and Shepards back from moving an entire flock by themselves. Petar spoke not out of just pure sadism but because he lacked anyone else to speak to. The only type of person he trusted to listen was one who’d quickly take those secrets to the grave.

Natalie got a little bit of understanding about the Vampire standing over her. Just as his fangs bit down on her. Petar lunged forward and sunk his teeth into her neck. Sending lances of cold pain through her body. Natalie tried to scream but couldn’t find the energy. The venom of the Vampire robbed all strength from her. This was not the type of Venom that put prey into a pleasantly drugged state. This toxin simply made her sluggish and unable to fight back. The tool of a predator who saw no need to hide what he was.

The feeling of coldness spread through Natalie, moving through her torso and out through her limbs. Pushed back against the couch, Natalie felt another source of coldness. This one crisp and invigorating, not numbing and awful like the venom in her rapidly emptying veins. A voice from a dream whispered in her ear.

“Do not lose hope, and when all seems lost, remember your Mothers gift to you.”

Natalie knew this new source of cold. It was the touch of metal on her skin, pressed to the back of her scalp, through her hair. The hairclip gifted to Natalie. It was a beautiful symbol that warned of the world's dangers and carried a weapon to protect against them.

Understanding, hot and violent filled Natalie. Driving her to fight against the slow draining cold of blood loss. She knew what she had to do; her mother had prepared her for this moment, even if she never meant to. Shakily, Natalie reached up to her hair. Fumbling through her raven strands and touching the silver of the hairclip. Grabbing the little bird, Natalie slipped it free, using much of her remaining strength.

Repeating a motion she’d done thousands of times, Natalie flipped open the hairclip. Revealing the short silver-coated blade within. Darkness started to encroach on Natalies’ vision, and she almost dropped the stiletto. But some last bit of strength pushed her to act. Natalie jabbed the knife into the neck of the monster drinking her blood.

As the silver-dipped knife point struck home, Natalie felt Petar scream into her neck. The Vampire pulled away from Natalie, savaging her neck with his fangs as he leaped back. As her vision swam, Natalie looked at a panicked Petar, a bird-handled blade sticking from his jugular. Gouts of black, tar-like blood poured out of the Vampire as he tried to pull the weapon free. Its silver coating burned him where he touched it. It took Petar multiple tries to get it free, leaving his fingers blackened and burnt. Finally, he succeeded and let the knife clatter to the floor. Twitching and wild-eyed, Petar fell forward. Catching himself on the couch. He was healing, but slowly, and a steady stream of black blood poured from him and right into Natalie’s wound.

A new feeling struck Natalie. A sense of hunger and oily darkness slithering against her. Rapidly losing blood, Natalie smiled up at Petar. Her semi-delirious mind gloated in her perceived victory. Not realizing the full horror of what was about to happen. The circling darkness at her vision’s edge came closer and closer as Natalie’s frantic heart pumped out her last bit of life-blood. All while another, darker substance seeped into her.

On the day her father died, and when her world had been shattered half a dozen times, Natalie Striga, the human, died. And that night, when the fate of Glockmire would be decided, Natalie Striga, the Vampire, came to life.