Within twenty minutes I returned with a bag of bacon butties and tomato preserve, courtesy of the eponymous owner of Hontor and Sons. The bald, grey-moustached baker had been pleased to feed me from his own kitchen, what with my status as a local champion and regular – and yet more pleased when I gave him almost a hundred times the food’s value as payment. With his season’s greetings resounding in my ears – the barrel-chested man’s rumble was deafening, even without the vampire essence active – I made my way home.
Xantaire accepted the sandwich gingerly, and I was forced to remind her this wasn’t the first time she’d eaten food that’d been carried through walls and floors. She started with tiny bites and was halfway through it before she seemed to lose her inhibitions and wolfed the rest down. The kids and Orstrum didn’t appear to have the same reservations, gulping down their food as though they hadn’t eaten in days.
Two hours later, the sun bravely peered through the cloud-cover, penetrating Sticktown’s smog, illuminating the drop-slush. My brother and sister knew they couldn’t go out into the lane with their new toys. The twins’ presents were altogether too magical for any explanation to make sense – each would’ve cost the same as all the lane’s kids’ presents combined. Xastur had no interest in leaving the apartment, preferring instead to stay near his mum’s feet, playing with his books.
Still, they had a few odds and ends they could show off to their peers, purchased for just this purpose at the new Knuckle Market: a winter coat each; a leather ball attached by a cord to a sanded-down twig; some interesting-looking marbles… It had been weird shopping at stalls that were standing on the very spot where I’d entered a lopsided tower of infernal obsidian – but other than stopping to marvel for a moment or two, what else was I going to do? Everything was back to normal now.
I stood at the rail, keeping an eye out for trouble while they played below. I passed the time by admiring the new blocks standing opposite. The floating pavilions I’d hired had finally been taken down and taken away, the inhabitants resettling in apartments almost identical to those which had been destroyed. (Just one of the apartments on the top floor was kept empty, for their mysterious benefactor.) There’d been the usual fund offering victims of the Incursion a few silver for the purchasing of essentials, everyday bits that weren’t going to be replaced by the reconstruction guilds, but I – Feychilde… had distributed some more funds of his own, which in the end more than doubled the pay-outs. In addition, I’d lowered the rent payments on those I’d snapped up.
I’d become a landlord at a loss, but who cared? Eventually it might recoup what I’d shelled out, and it was worth it, to see the little ones get gifts at Yearsend.
As I watched, the lane kids soon started trading those presents, trying out each other’s Yearsend bounties. Within ten minutes this degenerated into a bunch of separate arguments over who owned what, some of the little brats blatantly stealing from their ‘friends’. Tiny little Iltri was getting visibly upset.
I could’ve gotten involved, but to what end? The local children could be as vicious as vermin – I knew better than most, having been one until recently. If I yelled something I’d just be ignored, and every ignored yell would be a minor victory for them. Unless I made it physical they wouldn’t listen, and if I did try to intimidate them, things wouldn’t improve – I’d just end up fighting their big brothers or dads or something… Better for the victims of the petty thefts to take this opportunity to learn how to handle things themselves. At least the stakes were only a few coppers’ worth of toys at this point. Learn how to stand up for yourself and if you couldn’t, at least learn how to mistrust for next time. Getting an instinct for mistrusting the right people was a valuable lesson, a qualification gained on the streets that was highly transferable to life as an adult… life as a champion. I should’ve learned it before Belexor…
Zel…
But the one that worried me most was Timesnatcher. Mistrust invaded everything about him, every facet of every idea that comprised the very concept of him in my mind. He didn’t tell me about Zel because I’d never have trusted a word he said – which made no sense, because I still didn’t trust him… Though perhaps we wouldn’t have even had these weeks getting to know one another, without his silence on the subject of the traitorous fairy. Perhaps we’d have been opposed to each other right from the get-go.
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But that was how I felt. Opposed to him. He hadn’t been hanging out with us as much since the adventurers returned from Chakobar. He showed up at their reception last night as though he were invited, but he hadn’t been, really, had he? He didn’t show up to discuss Direcrown, and the bride and groom didn’t know him very well, no matter the gesture of removing his mask. Now he was treating this Duskdown thing as an unequivocal win, which I could’ve got behind, if not for the fact Duskdown was caught because he was trying to stop Direcrown’s hard-to-scry fiend. What more of a noble deed could you ask for? He was an arch-diviner, sure, but Tanra and Irimar were there – Duskdown had to have known he was going into that situation blind. No fixed escape routes for him. Just a desperate plea for help to the only arch-sorcerer he thought might help him… trust him, his purpose…
I clenched my jaw against the thoughts. Maybe I’d been learning the wrong lessons all along.
I saw to my satisfaction that Jaroan was sticking-up for his sister. I felt an approving smile cross my lips.
They’ll look after each other, if the worst should happen.
A gentle hum and noticeable warmth in my pocket told me my glyphstone was receiving a message.
I could’ve taken it out and answered it but the trance would claim a decent chunk of my attention. Knowing my luck, the moment I lifted the device up to my eyes a dozen heretics would descend on the kids…
Some extra perceptive power might have been handy here, and there was no way the twins would be able to spot the subtle change to my face-shape from down there. I brought forth my vampire essence –
And promptly fell over.
It took a few seconds to realise what had happened – not a single muscle was responding to me. They didn’t even feel like muscles – it was as though my skin had been pumped full of plaster until my flesh was locked in place. My breath wasn’t even misting on the air.
Oh… Vampire… Daytime…
Only then did it occur to me that I’d never once drawn on my vampire during the sunlit hours. This was the first time – I spent most of the day in bed usually, and with the dark coming early now it was winter…
I rescinded my vampiric eldritch and scrambled back to my feet, regaining my position at the rail before anyone could see me, before a dozen heretics could show up for the kids… I looked around, and thankfully I appeared to be clear on both fronts.
Requires more testing, I said to myself and making a mental note. I’d already had to get used to balancing wraith with satyr when it came to simple tasks – something as straightforward as shaking someone’s hand could be thrown into jeopardy, crushing their bones to a fine powder, or trying to grab a falling cup and having it plummet right through my fingers.
Deciding that a dozen heretics probably weren’t going to spring out of the shadows, I went for the glyphstone; its ringing and warmth had been supplemented by a subtle vibration, now.
Em was calling me. She did not look good. She was particularly pale, sitting in the garden, quivering under the blanket.
“Bet your head hurts this time,” I chided her. “You should be in bed!”
“Fresh air,” she said, gulping the stuff in.
“Can’t you warm yourself up?”
“Feel… sick when I’m warm.”
“Aww, poor thing.” I couldn’t help but smile, though I tried to do it sympathetically. “You want me to come over? I can maybe come for a short visit…”
“No, no,” she said, licking her lips. “I just… wanted to apologise for –“
“Please do shut up, luv,” I said brightly. “It’s Yearsend, by the way! Happy Yearsend…”
“Happy Yearsend.” She did her best to smile back, but I could tell it was a battle. “So I will see… see you later?”
“I’ll drop round,” I promised. “Late afternoon? I’m sure your dad will want a beer with me.”
Her pallor increased the moment she processed me using the word ‘beer’.
“Okay, I’m gonna let you go now,” I said apologetically.
“O-okay. See you later – love you.”
“L-love you…?”
The glyphstone connection dropped, and I stared the blank chunk of crystal in confusion.
That was the first time she’d said it out loud – first time I’d said it… Had she meant to say it? Was it the drunkenness, the wedding, the argument, the dropping season…? Was she just copying me, how I’d called her ‘luv’?
Or did she – did she mean it?
I felt the pulse of warmth reawakening within the glyphstone in my hand –
She’s contacting me back!
Feeling somewhat panicked, I blinked a few times and cleared my throat before focussing my awareness, allowing the connection to resume.
“I th-thought it was a bit –“
“Feychilde.”
It wasn’t Em – it was Timesnatcher.
“Feychilde… I’ve got a problem.”
* * *