by Jon F. Merz
“What do you want?”
Mirescu smiled more. “I merely want safe passage. I want to be able to ride out of this town unmolested by you or any other member of your…guild. I shall disappear and you will leave me alone, no matter what the Council decrees. In exchange, I will live out the remainder of my life in quiet solitude. You have my word on that.”
Wolfric nodded at Mila. “The girl goes free.”
“My dear boy-“
“I’m 23 years old,” said Wolfric. “Don’t call me a boy.”
“You are a boy to me. Your inexperience shows and I can tell that you have not truly killed yet. Your spirit has not yet been tested. So yes, you are still a boy.”
Wolfric gripped the staff he held harder. He desperately wanted to run the priest through with it.
“As I was saying: the girl goes with me. She is my guarantee that you will not pursue lest she come to some sort of horrible and unfortunate end by the edge of my blade. In the meantime, she will provide me with a certain amount of sustenance. Perhaps, she will even offer it all. I haven’t yet decided.”
Wolfric shook his head. “She’d be better off if you killed her right now.”
“Don’t tempt me, boy,” said Mirescu. “This form you see before you is not that of a priest or a religious man at all. I merely assumed it to blend in with the populace. What I truly am is far worse than anything you can imagine.”
Wolfric grinned and took a step closer to Mirescu. “I don’t know about that. I’ve seen some pretty horrible stuff so far today.”
Mirescu edged the knife closer to Mila’s throat. “I will cut the lass and bathe in her blood before your very eyes. Her life means nothing to me. Take another step closer and you will see it happen.”
“The first ounce of pressure you apply to the blade will be your last move before I put this staff directly into your heart and watch you die,” said Wolfric. “Try me and find out, old man.”
Mirescu smirked. “You don’t have the training to do it.”
“Then step away from the girl and find out. Just the two of us. No sense involving anyone else in our matter. You and I. That’s it.”
“You’re bold,” said Mirescu. “I’ll give you that. But you are not a full-fledged Fixer yet, are you? That’s the truth of why you’re with the other one. He’s training you. Tell me: how much time has he spent showing you the skills you’ll need to do what he does?”
“Enough to kill you,” said Wolfric. He eased back out of the room. “In the chapel. Now.”
Wolfric backed up until he was in the chapel. To his surprise, Mirescu came in, tossing the knife away and grabbing a length of wood used to light the candle on high. He tore off the end and Wolfric saw that it was more than sharp enough to impale him if he wasn’t careful.
He flipped his staff and prepared himself. His heart thundered in his chest as Mirescu adopted a wide stance with his own improvised staff held at waist level in both hands.
Mirescu smiled. “Have you had much experience with pole arms or quarter staffs before?”
“Enough,” said Wolfric.
“Excellent, then we shall be well-matched. Considering I was once employed as an infantry man utilizing such weapons.”
Wolfric swallowed. Mirescu was more than he had expected. He wished that Felix was here and able to handle this, but there was no guarantee his teacher was even still alive. It would come down to Wolfric to finish this.
Here.
Now.
Mirescu yelled and then launched himself toward Wolfric with a devastating series of jabs aimed at his chest. It was all Wolfric could do to parry and evade the thrusts while backpedaling. He lost his footing by one of the pews and barely recovered before Mirescu was on him again, this time feigning a thrust before flipping the staff over and slamming it down on Wolfric’s head.
Wolfric saw stars and felt the thunder in his skull, but he leaped over the pews and regained himself even as Mirescu charged again.
This time, Wolfric parried the thrust and thrust one of the sharpened ends of the staff at Mirescu. The priest evaded it to the side and then elbowed Wolfric in his head.
Wolfric’s vision went blurry and his eyes filled with tears as he tried to recover. He saw Mirescu in front of him but his vision was too cloudy to get a fix on him. He stabbed half-heartedly again and again, but Mirescu danced out of the way and sent a series of hits with the staff aimed at Wolfric’s arms and legs. Wolfric took the shots and felt his body being systematically broken down. It would only be a matter of time before Mirescu launched the killing thrust to his heart.
Wolfric had to end this.
He backed up and tripped over another pew, catching his foot awkwardly. As he went down, he felt his ankle twist and he cried out, falling onto his back, his chest completely exposed.
Mirescu laughed and leaped into the air, bringing the sharpened end of the staff overhead. At the apex of his leap, he turned it until it was aimed straight down at Wolfric’s heart. He zoomed down toward Wolfric with lethal speed.
Wolfric watched it happen in slow motion, forced himself to wait until the last possible moment and then threw his left arm over to his right, bringing his body with it. As Mirescu’s staff impaled the floor where Wolfric’s heart had been a moment before, Wolfric reversed his motion, coming back across the staff and breaking it as his momentum sent Mirescu into the nearest pew. As Mirescu attempted to right himself, Wolfric continued rolling to his left and launched his own staff from his right hand directly into Mirescu’s chest.
For a moment, Mirescu stood there.
Unblinking.
Then he looked down and saw the staff jutting from his chest and a gasp escaped his lips, followed by a running stream of frothy blood.
As Wolfric watched, Mirescu’s incisors extended to their full length and the old priest fell forward onto his face.
Wolfric lay frozen with the broken staff under his body. He did nothing for several seconds, but then forced himself to crawl over to Mirescu and confirm that he was dead.
He nudged his body with his foot and Mirescu turned over, his eyes were open and blank, the pupils fully dilated. His incisors had retracted once more for the last time.
And it was over.
Chapter 40
Wolfric got to his feet slowly, gingerly testing his weight on his bad ankle. But he could tell it was already healing fast and he could hobble his way out of the chapel. He wanted to go to Mila but he needed to see if Felix was actually dead or not.
He made his way into the ante room, careful to mind the floor. He saw the open pit and the remnants of the carpet that had been laid across the opening to conceal it. Heart thundering in his chest, he peered over the edge cautiously.
“It’s about time.”
Wolfric broke into a wide grin. There, just deep enough that he wouldn’t have been able to get out on his own, was Felix. His arms and legs were outstretched and gripping the wall. He was covered in sweat.
“I can’t hold this much longer.”
Wolfric reached down and was just able to get his hands under Felix’s armpits. With every last bit of strength he had, he pulled Felix back up and out of the hole. They slumped over at the edge of the pit and sucked in oxygen.
“Mirescu?” asked Felix.
“Dead,” said Wolfric. “In the chapel.”
Felix nodded and got to his feet. Wolfric did the same, limping along in his wake.
In the chapel, Felix examined Mirescu and then looked up at Wolfric. “You did well. Very well, indeed.”
Wolfric didn’t feel like celebrating, however. “It was nasty work.”
“It always is,” said Felix. “This is not a job that ever feels particularly good. But it’s a necessary thing we do to protect our people.”
“Mirescu had Mila as a hostage.”
“Where?”
“In his quarters,” said Wolfric. He turned and headed there, followed closely by Felix.
But by the time they arrive
d, Mila was gone.
“Where is she?”
Felix knelt and looked at the ropes. “She managed to cut through them somehow. See here? She must have had a blade to do it.” He stood. “She’s gone, Wolfric.”
Wolfric frowned. How much did Mila know about them? What had she overheard? Mirescu had talked about Felix and Wolfric not being father and son. He’d also mentioned the word ‘Fixer,’ he remembered. Would Mila put it together? If they headed back to the inn, would she have some sort of armed party assembled to kill them?
“Felix…”
His teacher turned. “What is it?”
“Mirescu said some things. Mila may have overheard.” Wolfric shook his head. “I don’t know if she will figure it out, but we’ll need to be careful.”
Felix frowned. “I don’t like the possibility that she knows anything at all. I wanted us to be able to fade out of here without ever looking back. Do you think she’ll put it together?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t.”
“She is very smart,” said Felix. “But we can’t stay here thinking she might have told everyone. We’ll head back to the inn, grab our gear and then prepare to leave.”
“Already?”
Felix nodded. “The sooner we are gone, the better. There’s a mess to clean up here and I don’t want anyone asking any sort of questions about the manner of death, or who we really are. Our time here is finished. We must depart as soon as possible.”
“At night, though? In these woods?”
Felix smiled. “We’ll ride out of town a few miles and make camp. The night will be cold, but I think we’ll be able to build a warm fire.”
“Very well.”
They made their way back to the inn in silence. Wolfric was still limping so Felix didn’t push him too hard to make speed. Upon their return, they found Davo entertaining a large group of villagers with tales of his heroism. Wolfric grinned as he listened to the big man recounting his exploits, some of which were embellished. But Wolfric supposed it didn’t matter. As long as Davo was taking care of his people, what harm could it do?
Davo saw them come in and insisted they share one drink. As much as Felix tried to opt out of it, he eventually acquiesced and Wolfric enjoyed one last apple ale, all the while his eyes were glued to the door leading to the kitchen, wondering where Mila was.
The innkeeper didn’t know where she was, either. “Damned girl hasn’t been back since earlier this afternoon. I’m doing everything back there.”
“Well, she’s in no danger any longer,” said Davo with a hearty laugh. “We saw to that, didn’t we lads?”
Felix nudged Wolfric and whispered to him, “Get our gear together. Ready the horses. We’re leaving within the next half hour.”
Wolfric excused himself and made his way upstairs, his mind still on Mila. What would she do now? Would she break into the celebration downstairs with accusations that Felix and Wolfric were vampires? Would she sacrifice them after what they had done?
He brought their bags downstairs and made his way to the stable, saddled their mounts and then found Felix waiting for him outside of the inn. Inside, Wolfric could still hear Davo’s voice booming as the singing and laughing continued.
Without a word, they both swung astride their horses and eased them at a slow trot out of the village. Wolfric risked one final glance behind them as they rode away.
But Mila was nowhere to be seen.
Felix nudged him awake. “Your turn on watch.”
Wolfric nodded and got out of his bedroll while Felix tucked himself into his. Within seconds, Felix’s breathing had deepened and Wolfric knew his teacher was sound asleep. Wolfric stoked the fire and added some wood to ward off the chill in the night air. Snowflakes drifted down from on high, giving the trees around them a delicate white sheen that reflected the yellow of the fire light.
Movement.
Wolfric’s hand went to his sword, but his gut hadn’t spasmed. Was there a real threat? He didn’t think so.
Slowly, he rose and walked out of the firelight and deeper into the woods. His hand stayed by his sword, but then from behind a large pine, he saw the figure step out.
Swathed in a mottled assortment of colors, Wolfric grinned and knew who it was even before she pulled off her mask.
“Mila.”
She smiled and moved into his arms without saying a word, pressing her lips to his. For a long moment, they stayed there, locked in a tight embrace. He tasted her lips, felt her tongue on his and her hot breath on his neck. Finally, she drew back and away from him.
“Sorry, I couldn’t wait for you at the church.” Her voice was quiet.
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you were safe.”
She eyed him. “Mirescu was a strigoi, wasn’t he?”
Wolfric nodded. “Yes.”
Mila took a breath. “And what are you, Wolfric?”
Wolfric paused, judging his words carefully. “I’m…a protector.”
“Of what?”
He shrugged. “Whatever needs protecting.”
“And Felix? He’s not your father is he?”
“No,” said Wolfric. “He’s my teacher. I’m apprenticed to him.”
“For what purpose?”
“To become what he is. To eventually be good enough to go out alone. On my own. Wherever my fate takes me.”
Mila smiled. “I have more questions.”
“It’s better that you do not ask them,” said Wolfric. “I cannot answer those questions that still plague you, so please don’t ask me to.”
Mila paused and finally nodded her head. “Very well. Where will you go from here?”
“I don’t rightly know,” said Wolfric. “Wherever we are needed. I’m still training, after all. I have a great deal still left to learn.”
“Will I ever see you again?”
“Perhaps,” said Wolfric. “I would certainly like that.”
“As would I,” said Mila. She moved into his embrace again and kissed him. Harder this time. Wolfric felt the warmth of her body and wished for nothing more than a few hours alone with her.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mila.”
They broke apart.
Felix stood there with his hands on his hips, a playful grin on his face. “Apparently, my faithful apprentice cannot be trusted to stay at his post while his teacher sleeps. Imagine that.”
“Felix-“
Felix held up his hand and ignored him. He stared at Mila. “Now the question becomes, what are we going to do with you?”
Mila frowned. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? My dear girl, here you are bedecked in some sort of elaborate costume that helps you blend in with the forest and I can only imagine my apprentice must have given you suggestions on it. Is that true?”
“It is.”
“And have you been working on your stealth movement?”
Mila smiled. “I have.”
“Then,” said Felix. “I hardly think that Malancrav is the place for a woman of your talents. Not when there are far more suitable places for you in this big wide world.”
“Such as?” asked Mila.
“Such as a convent I know of.”
Mila’s face grew furious. “A convent-!”
Felix held up his hand. “By all appearances, that is exactly what it is. But that is just to keep the idly curious from discovering its true purpose.”
“Which is what?”
“To train young women, such as yourself, in the lethal arts.” Felix smiled. “After all, who would ever suspect a beautiful young woman of being capable of dealing death? Not many. And those who do only find out when it is too late.”
“You want me to be an assassin?” asked Mila.
“I don’t want you to be anything that you don’t want to be,” said Felix. “You would also be trained as a spy. And I happen to think that talent and potential such as yours should not be wasted cooking in an inn in a small village like Malancrav.”
Mila grinned. “I might be interested.”
“It’s your decision,” said Felix. “And I can tell you only this: the training will be the hardest thing you have ever done. But if you choose to follow that route then here.” He handed her a small bit of parchment. “The location is there along with a letter of introduction that should grant you admission to their program.”
Mila smiled. “Thank you. But I need to think about it and see my father.”
“Of course,” said Felix. “But I would caution you to leave out certain details of your schooling. Tell him it’s a finishing institute for young women.” He glanced at Wolfric. “I’ll leave you two to your good-byes now. Wolfric, we have an early start, so I suggest you refrain from wasting too much of this lovely woman’s time.” He took up Mila’s hand and kissed it lightly. “It has been an honor.”
And then he turned and walked back off into the darkness.
Wolfric watched him go and then looked back at Mila, his heart thundering with excitement. “So?”
She smiled. “I might just do it.”
“I could visit you.”
Mila’s eyes twinkled. “Would you?”
“I mean, if it’s allowed and all. You know how convents are.”
She punched him lightly on the arm and then kissed him again. “I shall miss you greatly.”
“As will I,” said Wolfric. “But we have much to look forward to. Together.”
They kissed again and then Mila melted away from him. “Until next time, Wolfric.” She waved once and then vanished into the shadows, leaving Wolfric alone in the night air as the snowflakes fell upon him.
He took a breath, tasting the cold air. A smile blossomed on his face. And his heart pounded in anticipation of what his future might hold for him.
And Mila.
For the first time in his life, Wolfric felt a sense of purpose. And a sense of pride.
There was much work to be done. A lot of training yet to undertake.
But as he walked back to the camp fire, Wolfric felt ready for anything.
And…dare he think it, happy.