Walking across a crowded marketplace, Sern spotted a vendor to the side. The small stall's deep-red embroidered cloth roof signalled quality. Gold glimmered in the back. He slowed his steps and sidled closer, an eager itch in his fingers. He'd run errands since morning while looking for an old friend. He needed Jackal's help. Surely he'd help. Jackal had a soft spot for him after all. Unless...

He glanced around, glimpsing city guards by the street entrances around the square, overlooking the jam-packed market. They probably wouldn't see anything. He turned his attention to the stall and approached the vendor.

The man was occupied with a couple in fine clothing, looking at jewellery. In front of him lay necklaces, bracelets, and rings. But the truly expensive things hung in the back, dangling from a rack, gleaming alluringly in the shade. Golden sun-medallions and gryphons, silver eye-symbols, unicorns, sea-serpents, and moons. And the nature goddess' medallions in polished hardwood. His eyes stayed on the sun-medallions. He wanted one.

Leaning in over the table, he pretended to look at a bracelet of semi-precious stones. Maybe he could reach.

´Hey! Get back from there, you guttersnipe!`

Sern jerked back, startled by the sharp voice.

The vendor glared at him, his bushy beard bristling in a red face. ´You can't afford anything from this stall, thief. Leave, or I'll call the guards.`

´Oi! I wasn't stealin'!` Sern protested, his heart in his throat, holding up his hands to show they were empty.

The man eyed him suspiciously before nodding. ´Fine, but you better leave. Your dirty mug scares off my customers. Get!` He waved a hand dismissively at Sern.

Sern's face burned hot with humiliation but he didn't dare cause a scene and turned on his heels and left. Holding his pounding head, he moved on through the throng, inspecting a ring he'd swiped.

He had to find Jackal after all. To to that, he needed to get to Sevan. He'd know. Glancing up, he spotted a butcher's stall ahead. Red meat, sausages, steaks, blood-covered dusty floor, and staring, accusing eyes. Sern swallowed. Damned vampire. Though, he hadn't seemed like he'd wanted to kill them. He'd warned them, he remembered. Still, he should tell the guards.

He stopped to look at them, their metal helmets and halberds gleaming in the sun. No. He wanted to do this. It was crazy, but if it worked it would be fantastic. Better than Storca had been. He glanced around, suddenly nervous someone might be following him. Nobody knew what had happened yet, of course, but they would soon. Then he'd have questions to answer to. Where was Storca? What had happened? But not right now. He still had time to find someone to protect him. Before they found out.

A memory, unasked for, assaulted him. Four men dragging him into a dark room, helpless. Someone waiting. Groping hands, foul breath, pain. He closed his eyes, hands balled into fists as his breathing became fast and shallow. He forced the memories away. It wouldn't happen again. Never. It had been three years ago. He opened his eyes, stared out over the marketplace. Safe. He had to find someone new. Someone even scarier than Storca. He set off with determined steps.

Sern found the man he'd been looking for in an alley, leaning against a wall, smoking a pipe.

´Hey, Sevan. Got one for me too?`

The man raised an eyebrow and grunted, fished for something in his pocket.

Sern glanced around and plucked a parcel from his pocket. As Sevan handed over a second pipe, he exchanged it for the small package. Nobody would notice unless they'd specifically looked for it. Sevan lit the pipe and Sern took it in his mouth. He didn't drag the smoke into his lungs, but he could at least pretend. He leaned back against the wall beside the tall lanky man. He gave Sern a smug look and a wheezing laugh escaped him at Sern's failed attempt at smoking.

´Oh shaddap,` Sern muttered. ´Hey, Sevan, can you gimme a tip?`

The laugh quieted as he eyed the young thief. ´What?` he rasped.

´D'you know where Jackal's at?`

Sevan's eyes narrowed and he looked up and down the alley before answering. ´Yeah. What of it?`

´I need a word. You owe me one.`

´Mmm.` Sevan sucked on his pipe, blew out a cloud of smoke. ´Sure you wanna waste it on that?`

Sern nodded as he returned the pipe, fighting the urge to cough as he sucked in air.

´Alright. He's in the fifth. Won't be for long though.`

Sern nodded and sighed, looked at his shoes. There were dark stains on them. He stared. It was a bad idea. Maybe he should...

´Hey?` Sevan's voice broke his thoughts.

Sern looked up with a guilty smile. ´Sorry,` he mumbled and tucked his hands into his pockets. He strolled as nonchalantly as he could away from the reeking alley.

Sern found the hideout in the early afternoon. Like so many other places around here, thugs hung around the outside of the old hovel, deals and secret meetings taking place in its dark interior. At times, you would see upper-class people here. They tried to hide who they were by donning their worst garb but it was always too clean, too good quality. And they always wore too fine shoes or boots. It gave them away. But today, only a few thugs loitered outside. Sern glanced around before approaching. An unusual amount of city guards patrolled the area, looking for something. They almost never patrolled this district. He didn't like it.

Entering the hovel, he was told to wait in a dusty corridor. He nodded off, tired and with a pounding head. Eventually, he was allowed in.

´Welcome, Sern,` Jackal greeted as Sern entered the room. ´It's been a long time. What brings you here?` He wasn't dressed much better than anyone else but at least everything was whole and fairly clean, Sern thought as he watched the middle-aged slender man with short dark-brown hair.

Stolen story; please report.

´Hey, Jackal.` He nodded and closed the door behind him.

´Closed doors, eh?` Jackal inquired, raising his eyebrows.

´Yeah.` Sern nodded. ´I need help, an' don't want pryin' ears.` Sern ran a hand through his short sun-bleached hair, feeling the effects of last night's sleeplessness.

´Tell me what you need.` Jackal set the quill he'd been holding down, and turned his full attention to Sern.

Sern noted the golden medallion of Eldon hanging around Jackal's neck. ´You're a follower of Eldon still, right?` Sern asked, then continued as Jackal nodded and indicated the sun-symbol. ´This might seem strange but, could you gimme a medallion too?` He hoped Jackal wouldn't ask too much and just trust him, for old time's sake.

Jackal regarded him for a moment with friendly but sharp eyes, scratching his thin beard. ´Have you found faith finally?` Then he shook his head. ´No, this is something else. Isn't it?`

´I need it for a... thing,` Sern said, not quite sure how to put it. He didn't want to explain what he needed it for. It would raise a lot of questions he wasn't ready to answer yet.

´Yeah, sure,` Jackal answered, tapping his chin with a finger. ´I have more than one. Do you need it now, or do you want a specific kind?`

´Any'll do, I think,` Sern replied. ´It's not for a super important thing. As long as it's the real deal.` He tried to sound casual, like it didn't matter, but his pulse raced and sweat ran down his back. What if it didn't work? Or had the wrong effect?

Jackal stood, went over to one of his desks, and opened a locked drawer. He produced an old dented medallion, but still golden and shiny. It hung on a leather thong, unlike his own, which was on a silver chain.

´Here.` He held the pendant out. ´You can borrow it. But you'll owe me.`

Sern took the sun-medallion. Two concentric circles held together by eight sunbeams, shaped like sword-blades. The brass plating had worn off here and there, revealing the copper underneath. But it looked nice enough. And it wasn't the look of it that was important either, he reflected. ´Thanks so much,` he said earnestly. ´I really needed this.`

Jackal looked thoughtfully at him. ´You're welcome. And, if you ever find it in you, give it a try and pray some day. He listens you know.`

´Well, I'm not really into that religion thing. I prefer if they dunno what I'm up to.` Sern grinned mischievously.

´They know that anyway, my friend,` Jackal chuckled. ´But they might forgive you if you really mean it. Or help you when you need it.`

Sern shook his head and smiled. ´Nah. But thanks. See you 'round.` He waved, stuffed the medallion in his pocket, and stood to leave.

´Stay indoors at night,` Jackal cautioned as Sern opened the door. ´I've heard evil things are afoot in the neighbourhood. And keep that medallion close.`

Sern stiffened, then nodded and quickly left the building. He had more things to do. He only wished he wasn't so tired. Or so scared. Had Jackal realized what he was up to? Or had he assumed it was for protection in general? He jammed his hands into his pockets to keep them from trembling. Grasping the medallion hard, the metal sun-rays stung his right hand. It felt reassuring somehow. It had to work.

Some time later he found himself standing with other ruffians and orphans in the street, waiting for a city guard patrol to pass by. They stopped people at random, asking questions. What were they doing? It wasn't an important enough district. People here were poor, thieves, and homeless. As the guards got closer he heard them ask about missing people. He nudged the girl beside him, her back against the wall of a leaning building.

´Hey. Know what they're lookin' for?` he asked as she glanced back.

She shrugged and brushed back a strand of dirty hair. ´Got word of brutal murders in the neighbourin' district two days past. Sumthin' 'bout dark strangers. The usual stuff.` She walked off without giving him a second look.

Murders. Merchants and craftsmen lived there. That's why the guards had bothered. If someone got killed here, they didn't care. But merchants now, they're important. He shivered despite the heat of the day. Dark strangers. He was certain about who they were looking for. This was bad. They were too close, and if anyone had gone into the house, they'd find Storca and the vampire there, on the floor. If they found Storca, they might find him too, and they'd ruin everything. He chewed on his nails, worried about the unlocked door.

The guards never looked at him twice. Too bland, Sern figured, didn't stand out in a crowd. Perfect when you're a thief. They passed by, roughly asking questions to anyone they thought might know something. People shook their heads or pointed in various directions. Nobody seemed to know anything. Sern sighed.

As soon as the patrol had moved on, he returned to his lodgings. Upon arriving, some associates loitering about the hovel greeted him. He nodded and hurried past, not in the mood for conversation. Some of them seemed to stare, following him with their eyes for too long.

´Oi! Where's your friend at?` one of them called.

He pretended not to have heard. Sweating, he went to his belongings and rummaged through a sack until he found a tunic. It might do, he thought. He stuffed the simple grey garment in a hip pouch along with the sun-symbol. He ate some stale bread and rested, waiting for the sun to set, wondering just how stupid this idea was. But fortune favours the bold.

* * * * *

Awake. Suddenly. He was getting used to it. One second he wasn't aware at all, and in the next, he was fully awake and aware of his surroundings. It was uncanny. The robber had left him alive, though. He hadn't expected that.

Ranloo stayed down for a moment longer, hunger clawing at his stomach again, like a wild animal. He opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. Resting on the dirty wooden floor, the body of the big young man lay only a few feet away in a big red-brown stain. Ranloo groaned, nauseated, and closed his eyes again.

He had to stop this somehow. Could he be cured? Maybe he should look up a priest, he pondered, but almost immediately threw that idea away. A priest of any good deity would, if he was lucky, kill him instantly. If he wasn't, he might be in for something worse. And he didn't want to die. His goddess had rejected him the moment he had become this monster. He looked at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. He'd been abandoned before he had done anything bad. Drawing a deep shuddering breath, he rose. What was he going to do? He didn't dare kill himself, he didn't want to go to an afterlife in pain and torment. His goddess wouldn't have him now. He didn't even dare to pray.

Anguished, he looked around the old house. He might still be able to use it as a hiding place. But that meant he'd still be in the city, where he'd get tempted to kill again and again. He had no control over his actions. He hated that feeling and resolved not to go out this night. Stay inside, away from people. Away from temptation. Stay in control. For how long could he do that?

Frustrated, Ranloo eyed the corpse. He couldn't leave it there, could he? The hot weather would make the smell unbearable soon. He could already smell it putrefying, strangely sweet, like rotting fruit. Cursing, he looked around. Could he move it? Maybe the house had a cellar?

Neglect and age had collapsed the upper floor of the once sturdy house, and the whole building leaned to one side. He searched for a way down but found none. Eventually, he gave up and slumped onto the chair he'd found in one of the rooms and stared at a wall. Hunger grew with each passing minute, twisting his insides. Stubbornly, he refused to move. He didn't want more innocent lives on his conscience. Ranloo lost himself in misery and waited.

The soft creaking of the door, followed by a faint thud and slow padding down the hall disturbed him. A wave of anger overcame him. Why wouldn't people stay away and leave him alone? Was that too much to ask? Jumping to his feet, fangs extending, the chair flew back, scraping against the floor. Hissing, Ranloo stalked towards the hall, intent on scaring whoever had entered so badly he'd never dare return.