“This was the aim of the ritual,” I said. “The documents spoke of strengthening the vampires somehow.”
“How do we kill it?” said Yue. “I thought wood was poison to these things.”
“It used to be,” said Mag. “Mayhap fire will still do the trick.”
“We could retreat,” said Yue. “The building is burning. This thing will burn with it.”
I looked at King. It had stooped over the cauldron again to take another deep draught. “This chamber will not burn. The floorboards are enchanted. And even if it begins to, I think the creature will burst out before it perishes.”
As if King could understand my words, its head snapped up towards the ceiling for a moment. Slowly it turned its gaze upon us. Black eyes shone with hate.
“I think it heard you,” Yue pointed out mildly.
“I have my torch,” I muttered. “If I can get an opening, I can throw it at the vampire, and we will hope it catches.”
“Yue should get one, too, and quickly,” said Mag. King had begun to stalk closer.
Yue pulled a torch from the wall and lit it with the flames of mine. “Spread out,” I said.
I edged right, Yue left, and Mag stood in the middle with Oku. King, seeing us split up, stopped moving, crouched low, and swiveled its head back and forth to keep an eye on all of us.
“Do it as soon as you can,” said Mag suddenly, and then she threw herself at the vampire. Oku was only a half-pace behind.
They danced around each other in the center of the room. But Mag could no longer hold her own against the thing. Whereas before she had held against the vampires’ strength and somewhat outmatched them in speed, now she was like a man fighting a tiger. She and King traded blows twice in the blink of an eye, but then the vampire’s claws slammed into Mag’s shield, and she fell on her back. Instantly she rolled, coming up on her feet again, but the vampire was just behind her. This time its claws raked her scale shirt, and she was thrown away again.
Yue and I charged, torches high. But the vampire turned on us and swiped. Yue dropped to the ground to avoid it, but I was too slow. I felt its putrid claws bite into the flesh of my arm, and I cried out with pain.
Before it could follow up, Mag was there again, her spear thrusting, but each time the thing dodged or turned aside her blows with claws as long as my hands. That gave me the time I needed to scramble away from the fight, now cradling my shoulder. I backed away from the spinning, screeching creature and caught Yue’s eye from across the room.
“I will try to give you another opening,” I called out to her.
“Never mind that,” she said. “We have to distract it.”
And then she ran for the cauldron.
I cried out a warning before I could stop myself. The vampire heard, drove Mag off with a wild swipe, and turned just in time to see Yue seize the edge of the cauldron. She heaved, trying to upend it.
The vampire roared and launched itself at her. Yue spun on the spot, thrusting her torch up straight into its face. The creature recoiled, but only for a moment. Then it seized the end of the torch in one clawed hand. It shrieked, its black eyes going wide. But it tightened its grip, digging its claws into its own flesh as it completely enveloped the flames with its hand. Its whole body shuddered, spiny ridges jumping back and forth like mountains in an earthquake.
The flames guttered out. The vampire hissed straight into Yue’s face, pained, but very much alive.
“Ah,” said Yue.
The vampire scooped her up, its clawed fingers wrapping all the way around her torso, and flung her bodily across the room.
CRACK
She struck the wall, slid to the floor, and was still.
“Yue!” I cried. I tried to dart around King, to run to her, but it spun at the sound of my voice. One limb lashed out. I avoided the claws, but the palm struck me like a bear’s paw. I, too, flew into the wall, and my head struck it so hard I nearly blacked out straight away.
“Albern!” cried Mag. “The blood!”
I tried to look at her, tried to focus in a world that was suddenly swimming and hazy. She had reached the cauldron, just as Yue had. But Yue’s distraction, and mine, had given her the time she needed.
She heaved. It did not look as if she should have been able to move the giant iron bowl. But Mag knew leverage—knew how to get more out of the human body than anyone had a right to expect.
The cauldron upended. The blood flooded over the stone floor, splashing all across it, crashing against the vampire’s legs like the ocean against rocks, soaking its lower body in black liquid.
The vampire screamed in livid fury. But it was too focused on the blood to try and claim vengeance against Mag. It fell to its knees, trying desperately to lap up the blood on the ground, pressing its nose and tongue into the stones.
“The blood!” cried Mag again. “With your torch, you idiot!”
Her voice dragged my attention back from King. I frowned at her. The blood? Yue had already tried that. She might be dead. My torch?
I looked down. I still held my torch in my hand, where it burned brightly. When the vampire had struck me, I had dropped my sword, but somehow I had held onto my stupid torch.
Stupid torch. Why should I care about it. The vampire had put Yue’s flame out. Fire had caused pain, yes, but it had not killed the thing.
Then Mag was there, kneeling over me, snatching the torch out of my hand. “Honestly, I have to do everything,” she said mildly.
And then she flung the torch into the blood that soaked the floor.
It caught at once, like lamp oil. Black flames rippled out across the stones, consuming all the blood in a flash. It rushed up King’s arms and legs, its torso, all covered in the black liquid. The creature’s screams were terrible. It writhed, but that only sent it splashing through more blood, through more flame. The darkfire consumed it, its body bubbling and popping, sick, hot, wet spurts of fat and gristle sizzling across the room, splashing in the flaming blood, sending it flying up in little sparks.
“Come on,” said Mag. She hauled me to my feet and helped me across the room, careful to give the flames a wide berth. We found Yue collapsed at the bottom of the opposite wall.
“Is she alive?” I said.
“We have to hope so,” said Mag. “But I cannot carry you anymore, for I will need your help with her.”
I took my arm from Mag’s shoulders, and between the two of us we hauled Yue up. She did not stir or groan, but I did not have the time to check for breath or a heartbeat. We merely held her between us, her arms across our shoulders, the way we had hauled so many wounded fellows from battlefields in our youth.
The stairs were difficult to navigate, carrying Yue as we were. When we reached the top, we saw that we had almost been too late. The whole house was consumed in flames, so thick that we almost could not push through them to reach the street again. But we managed it, bursting out through the flames to the shock of the many frightened onlookers, most of whom had to have assumed we were dead already. Oku gave great leaps as he bounded around us, baying with joy and terror.
“Back!” I said. “Someone get me water!”
We laid Yue down between us, and I fumbled with the straps of her armor. Ashta appeared, helping me. We got Yue’s armor off, and I pressed my head to her chest, listening desperately, trying to feel the rise and fall of her breath.
And then at last …
Pa-pump. Pa-pump.
“Get. Off me,” groaned Yue.
I fell back on my rear, closing my eyes and heaving a deep sigh of relief. “Thank the sky.”
“Here, Sergeant,” said Ashta, relief nearly causing her to drop the waterskin. “Drink this.”
“Lift her head,” said Mag wryly, “or she will drown instead of burning alive.”
She had fetched her singed cloak from the house on our way out, and now she fashioned it into a pillow for Yue. The constable drank deep of Ashta’s water, until finally she pushed it away, sputtering and coughing.
<
br /> “Are you all right?” I asked her.
“I am alive,” she said. “That is more than I think I should expect. The vampire?”
“We killed it,” I told her. “Something we could not have done without you.”
“I am not proud to have been mere bait, but I suppose I am the only one who had the courage for it,” said Yue.
“Certainly, it is something I have never volunteered for,” I told her.
Yue snorted. “Of course not.” Then her countenance grew stern, and she held my gaze. “In all earnestness, thank you for your help. And, I suppose, for saving my life.”
“Oh, constable,” I said, grinning at her. “You cannot think we did that for you. I have it on the very best authority that corpses are simply a nightmare to take care of. The paperwork alone.”
Her brows drew together. “I could still arrest you. Both of you.”
I patted her shoulder gently. “You are welcome to try.”
Some of the townsfolk who had skill at healing had been summoned, and they came forwards to care for her now. I stood and went to Mag’s side. Oku was with her, but she paid him no attention. She had turned from us, and now she stood surveying the Shades’ hideout as it burned. Some of the townsfolk had set up a watering line, passing buckets from hand to hand and dousing the nearby buildings to ensure they did not catch alight. But the flames seemed to be self-contained, and there was no wind. The night’s danger looked to be well and truly over.
“The blood,” I said. Mag did not look at me, so I pressed on. “How did you know about the blood?”
“We all should have known,” she said lightly, free from the battle-trance. “From the moment we read their notes. The process infused the blood with magestone essence, remember? I have never seen a substance that catches fire more easily than magestone.”
I shook my head. “It was a guess. You risked all our lives on that strategy.”
“It was the only idea we had,” said Mag. Then at last she turned to me, and a wide grin was plastered across her face. “And what are you complaining for? It worked.”
I laughed at that. “I cannot argue with you there.”
Wordlessly we embraced, clutching each other tight in the light and warmth of the flames. And in that moment, for one brief instance, I felt as though Mag—the old Mag, the one I had known since we were both young—held me in her arms, and that she would never leave my side again.
THE FIRE WAS PUT OUT eventually, but long after we had already gone to bed. We tried to stay up and help the townsfolk, but they insisted we return to our inn and rest. Ashta, who Yue had deputized until she had recovered, was particularly insistent. When we finally returned to the inn, Dryleaf was nowhere to be seen. We were too tired to search for him that night, and went straight to bed.
We woke the next morning well past dawn. In fact, when I looked out the tiny window of our room, it looked as if even noon had passed us by. It is possible there were some parts of my body that did not hurt, but I could not have told you what they were. Every motion made me groan like an old man.
Mag, sky bless her, seemed fine. She moved lightly on her feet, and there was no sign of ache or pain within her. I saw no bruises on her skin, and of course, as you can imagine, there were no cuts or scrapes, either. I shook my head at it more than once, as we readied ourselves to emerge from our room. Even vampires, inhumanly strong beasts though they were, had been unable to injure Mag in any lasting way. She had been part of my life for more years now than she had not. Yet not even age, it seemed, had proven able to catch her in its inevitable grasp.
When we made our way at last to the common room, we found Dryleaf sitting by the fire, in the very same place he had been when first we met him. I crossed the room to speak with him while Mag went to settle our account with the innkeeper. Dryleaf seemed to recognize the gait of my footsteps, for he tilted his head up eagerly, his milky eyes staring just over my left shoulder.
“I hear you have become heroes,” he said.
“Some seem to think so, yes,” I told him. “But we were only two among many who fought bravely last night.”
“Yes,” said Dryleaf, his bushy brows dancing as he nodded. “Yue suffered some injury, I hear, but it sounds as though she will make a full and speedy recovery.”
“That is good,” I said. “She stood bravely against the monsters last night.”
Dryleaf’s shoulders rose and fell, as though with a sigh, but he made no sound. “And I suppose you have seen to your purpose here in Lan Shui, then. Will you be leaving town?”
“We will,” I said. “We have business elsewhere.”
“Most people do, when they come to visit Lan Shui,” he said. “Yet a place may be a way-stop, and still people make for it when occasion arises.”
“I thought I would ask—if you do not mind—would you accompany us this morning?” I said. “We want to visit Yue before we go, and I know you are fond of her. And I would appreciate your company.”
Dryleaf got up so fast, I was afraid he would hurt himself. “It would be my great pleasure,” he said. “And for my part, I give my word to keep your pace and not impose a moment’s delay. Now let us go and meet with Mag, for if my ears do not deceive me, I think she is having some sort of trouble with the innkeeper.”
I took Dryleaf’s arm and led him towards Mag. The old man had been correct. Mag was engaged in a heated argument with the innkeeper as we came up, though the innkeeper himself only met her angry words with a beatific smile, which he turned on me as I drew up to the bar.
Mag whirled on the two of us. “Ah, good,” she said. “Dryleaf. Help me convince this idiot that he does not know how to run a business.”
“Before I try, I would rather hear the details of the situation,” said Dryleaf diplomatically.
“Mag, what under the sky is going on?” I said.
“This man,” said Mag, thrusting a finger at the innkeeper’s face—the innkeeper’s vacant smile widened—“will not take my money.”
“No, I will not,” agreed the innkeeper, his massive mustache jumping as he sniffed.
“We stayed here for days, you ox!” cried Mag. “Take our money!”
Instead of answering, the innkeeper reached into a purse at his belt, produced two pennies, and laid them on the pile of coins that lay on the bar in front of him. The pile seemed somewhat larger than it should have been, considering the time we had spent in Lan Shui.
“And he will not stop doing that!” said Mag, sounding quite ready to throttle the man.
“No, I will not,” said the innkeeper, sounding absolutely delighted.
“Listen, friend,” I said. “No one appreciates your generosity more than we do. But you cannot survive on good deeds and well wishes alone. Take some of our coin.”
The innkeeper answered only with another two pennies laid on the pile.
“Stop telling him to take money,” growled Mag, who seemed to wish to ignore the fact that she had just done the same thing. “It only makes him give us more.”
“I think you should leave,” said Dryleaf. “It seems an untenable situation for the two of you, unless you wish to rob the poor man blind.”
The innkeeper nodded gaily, as though he had never heard truer words.
“But we are robbing him blind,” said Mag. “I used to own an inn myself, you know. And I am—well, in all honesty, I am insulted on his behalf.”
To my surprise, Dryleaf put his hands on his hips and scowled in Mag’s direction. “If you do not wish for people to give you gifts, to say nothing of praise, then I would cease your frankly ridiculous habit of running around and saving them from danger. Many people in the nine kingdoms see this as the only natural reaction to such a thing.”
“I did not come here to save anyone,” grumbled Mag, avoiding looking at either Dryleaf or the innkeeper. “And so be it, if they are too foolish to take my money—put them back.” She snatched the pile of silver away from the innkeeper, who had been reaching for another pa
ir of pennies from his purse.
We beat a hasty retreat from the inn and out into the street, Mag scowling, Dryleaf chuckling mightily, and me trying to restrain myself from joining him. Mag was still trying to cram the coins into her purse several streets later—the innkeeper had given her quite a lot of them. But we both stopped short as we saw Liu standing there before us.
The boy was not alone. Next to him was the man who had taken him in when we had brought him back to Lan Shui. I had never learned his name. But beside them both sat Oku. The dog grinned up at us, tongue lolling from its mouth as it panted in the heat of the day.
“Liu,” said Mag, crouching at once to speak with him at eye-level. “How are you?”
“I am well,” he said. “You killed the monsters?”
“We helped,” I told him. “Many in the town fought them together.”
“I am glad,” said Liu. “I am glad they are dead.”
Mag looked a little sad at that. But she reached out and ruffled his hair. “We have to be going now, but we know we leave Lan Shui under your protection. You will watch out for all these people for us, will you not? Many of them are not very smart. They will need you.”
Liu smiled at that. “Of course. I am going to be a constable one day.”
“I think you will be a great one.”
“I think Oku should go with you,” said Liu.
I took a step forwards. “Liu, that is very kind of you,” I said. “But he is your hound. This is his home.”
“His home was in the mountains,” said Liu. “So was mine. But I think he needs to go and protect other people’s homes now. That is what you are going to do.”
“Let him stay and protect you,” I said.
Liu’s eyes began to well with tears, and his cheeks flushed. “I am safe now. You killed the monsters. But there may be other monsters out there. I want to know that you are safe, too.”
Mag had moved behind the boy, and she was giving me a scowl he could not see. And in my mind, that settled the matter. I gave Liu a warm smile.
“Then it would be our pleasure to take him along with us.”
Mag barely stifled a groan. But she plastered a smile on her face as Liu turned and hugged her legs. Then the boy went to Oku and clutched at his dark brown fur.
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