It took me several minutes to coax Myra out of her hiding place. She had raced to the barn and hidden in Belle's stall. She was still heavily intoxicated. Based on the disheveled wood shavings in the bottom, I could see she had tried and failed to mount Belle several times. I found her lying under some spare hay in the corner, a liberal amount of vomit beside her.

If the shifter felt half as bad as I did it was no wonder he didn't risk attacking again. Still though, it was a relief that I didn't have another fight for the moment. I wasn't sure I could kill a rabbit right now, let alone that thing. I nearly passed out again as I reset my shadow wards, the wave of darkness confirming that we were indeed alone again.

My memory gets hazy after that.

*******

I awakened the next morning feeling oddly...light. The pain had faded during the night as my body restored itself, but I still felt different. It was like I had been wearing a heavy coat for an extremely long time, and now it was off. My mind seemed more clear too. The darkness had receded into the cage I had made in my soul. It was still there, but it was like it had gone to sleep. I hadn't felt this way since the last time it had taken control and exhausted its power.

Only this time there wasn't a pile of bodies to wake up to.

"Myra, would you like some coffee?" I called from the kitchen. Myra's low groan from the bedroom came in reply. I finished slicing and toasting bread and took the kettle off the stove. Stepping outside, I poured an ice cold glass of water from a pitcher I had stored there. I carried the glass and a mug of coffee to her bedside table. Myra was curled into a ball of sadness under the covers. She grunted again, and burrowed even further under the blanket. Her voice was barely audible.

"I'm dying," she muttered with a small sob.

"You know, after all your tough talk, I thought you would handle your booze a bit better."

"Go away..." she droned, a hand darting out from under the covers and swiping at me. I side stepped the attack easily, my hands going to my hips. I sighed and shook my head at her. Myra had vomited a few more times since I had awakened, and she had yet to eat or drink anything today.

She's worse than I thought.

I looked out the window at the small garden, considering my options. I had to get Myra well before dealing with the events of last night, but she wasn't coming out of those blankets anytime soon. Fayra and I always kept medicinal herbs planted there for when she came home from her bounties. I remembered brewing her several powders and concoctions when she came back hurt.

You need to be careful, you know. You're not immortal, I had told her.

She had smirked sarcastically at me then.

Good advice, Doctor. I'll be sure to ask my targets to kindly not shoot me next time. I'm sure they'll be happy to oblige.

Shaking the memory off, I closed my eyes and tried to remember knowledge from the person I had been before my world shattered. Leaving the mug and glass on the nightstand, I went to the garden. Many of the plants had wilted in the cold, but Zachariah's tending had preserved some of them. Some shoots could be seen poking out through the dried leaves. I needed to collect these soon and put them on the rack before they turned to mold.

Nausea, headache, pain, and upset stomach. Those were Myra's symptoms. So that meant...

I dug up some turmeric root, mint, parsley, and rosemary. I rubbed the leaves between my fingers, smelling their earthy scent. I snapped the turmeric root and took all of them inside. I blended the herbs into a tea, cooking the turmeric separately. About a half hour later, I carried a mug of fresh tea to Myra. She was the same as I had left her, though I noticed some of the water was gone now.

"Myra, I want you to drink this," I said bluntly. She tried to swipe at me again, but this time I caught her wrist and yanked to blanket down to see her face.

"It's going to help you. I'll come back in a half hour and if at least half of the tea isn't gone, I will force you to drink it myself," I said quietly. The look she gave would have frozen an entire lake, but I met her eyes impassively. Eventually, she reached for the mug and took a cautious sip. Her nose wrinkled, but she swallowed it under my watchful stare. I took a breath and tried to soften my tone as she drank some more.

"When we go into town, I can get you some Behemoth Broth. Its a powerful restorative tinged with magic that should get you back on your feet. For now, this will have to do," I explained as kindly as I could. Myra considered me, and then let out an unladylike belch.

*******

Myra began to recover a few hours later, and I was quick to saddle Dusk. She was still unsteady, so she had to ride with me again. The midday sun provided some warmth as we rode, but small patches of snow blew in the breeze. Ice collected at the edge of the Silkendale River, though the familiar steamer boat floated lazily in the current. I knew the owner would likely take it south to Piremore soon in search of warmer waters. Pleasure cruise season was ending in the northwest.

Myra had predictably wanted to avoid going to town today, but it couldn't wait. I had to talk to Stone now about the murders, because if that wasn't who had attacked last night, then I was an Incubus's consort.

I kept us along Main Street, a few vendors calling their wares to us, but I pulled Dusk to a stop when I heard a shrill voice.

“Get out of here!”

I perked up in the saddle, looking around for the voice’s owner, but a second voice joined the first.

“Yeah kid! Don’t make us get ruff, you filthy thief!”

“I didn’t steal them, I bought them! Give them back!” cried a third voice of a young boy.

I rounded the corner of a side street to see a boy and girl standing over a smaller boy of maybe eleven years old. The others looked like they were in their early teens. All were gathered in the narrow side alley, but were still plainly visible from the street for anyone who cared to notice. Blood came down quickly from a wound on the youngest boy’s brow and one of his eyes was swelling shut. He was reaching toward a sack the teen boy was holding above his head. The girl, dressed in a simple dress and coat, had blood on the knuckles of an upraised fist while the older boy sneered behind her.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

The smaller child grabbed the teen boy’s shirt, trying to lift himself higher, but the girl kneed him hard in the stomach. He rolled a few times before colliding with the wall of the alley.

I gritted my teeth as I saw the hint of a tattoo along his neck. It had the graceful red lines of Elemancy magic. They bent and shifted on his skin like any Elemancer, but the boy lacked their distinctive silver-grey hair, and charcoal complexion. He had thick blonde hair, and ivory skin. He did had their eyes though. They looked like dying coals in a fire.

I looked around and frowned as I saw several adults passing the alley as if they saw nothing, ignoring the scene.

The teenagers closed in on the boy as I saw him tighten his small fist, and that tattoo shift on his skin. The teens didn’t notice his eyes turn to catlike slits.

“Trash like you doesn’t belong in our town! You better get out before we have to do something really-”

“Rowena, what are you doing?” Myra whispered, but I was already out of my saddle, ignoring her. A sadistic smiling pulled particularly strong on the girl’s lips as I charged toward them. I had to get to them, and stop this. My paced quickened as the tattoos drained from the small boy’s neck and flowed into his arms, the coals in his eyes turning to roaring flames.

Shitshitshit!

Just as the cobblestones started to crack under the child's hands, I pulled the sack out of the teen boy’s grasp while he was distracted.

“What’s all this now?” I asked breathlessly, holding the sack out of the boy’s reach, “People who steal things from others are the real trash, you know.”

“He stole them first!” said the girl, stamping her foot.

“Is that so? And you put him under citizen's arrest? They’re making deputies younger and younger nowadays. What are you, fourteen?” I said, my eyes narrowed.

“Thirteen,” said the girl, crossing her skinny arms.

“I’m fourteen!” said the boy. I shifted my focus to him.

“Congratulations,” I said sarcastically, and he deflated a bit.

“Anyway, you say he stole the things in this sack?” I asked, holding it up. They both nodded. I looked at the small boy for a moment, and was relieved when I say the tattoo was back on his neck and his eyes had returned to normal. I looked back at the older kids.

“What proof do you have? Did you see him steal this?” I asked.

“No, but-” said the girl, stubbornness in her tone but I talked over her.

“Is the sheriff looking for him?”

“No, but-”

“Are the things in this sack yours?”

“NO!!” bellowed the girl, “But there’s no way a halfling can buy anything. My mother says they do nothing but steal to survive!”

“She has this on good authority I take it?” I asked, scowling at the girl. She looked up into my face defiantly, no remorse to be seen. The boy tucked behind her and set a hand on her shoulder.

“Everyone knows that!” she growled, shifting her hands to her bony hips.

“Well then, why don’t we all go down to Sheriff Stone’s office together? He’s a good friend of mine and I’m sure he’d love to hear this,” I said casually, like I was discussing a trip to the tavern. They looked at one another hesitantly, like rabbits caught in a snare. I let them sweat for a moment before speaking again.

“Must be nice to pick on someone smaller than you, steal their stuff, and call it a good day right?” I leaned in on them, “So is it my turn? To pick on someone smaller than me?” I said quietly. Too quietly. The teens looked at me and for the first time, I saw fear in their eyes.

“N-no,” the boy stuttered, looking uncertainly at the girl.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare! We didn’t do anything!” she said sternly, but her voice wavered. I smiled, baring all my teeth at her.

“You have to be careful. You start stealing from others, and then others start stealing from you. It's a self-feeding cycle,” I said, squaring my shoulders. They both flinched, but then I straightened up. I glanced from the sack I held and back to them before replying.

“But that's your decision. Whether that cycle breaks or continues is completely up to you. But one's certain. You're not getting this sack back.”

The girl froze in a mixture or anger and fear. She bit her lip and looked to the ground before the boy spoke up.

“Rene, I think we should go,” he said hesitantly, and she sent him a sharp look. They considered one another, then me, then walked away. I watched them go, then looked to the small boy. He was still crouched next the wall, his eyes wider than the Screeching Canyons.

I untied my bandana, the cold air hitting my exposed neck. I slowly knelt before him. I tried to be gentle and soothing with my approach, but he still looked at me with wary eyes.

I set the sack next to him and reached to wipe the blood from his face. After a moment, he inched closer, a hand holding his swollen eye. I I felt myself frown at the injury. The boy was small and malnourished. The red tattoos were shocking on his pale skin, peeking out from under his shirt with every move. It was no wonder he had gotten beaten. Elemancers were still despised by humans mostly, even half-Elemancers. The wounds of slavery traveled across many generations, but I doubted this boy deserved to be treated this way.

My bandana was a fraction of an inch from his face when, suddenly, his eyes darted to my neck. He yelped and started to scoot away from me as fast as his tiny arms could manage. I held my hands up and tried to smile encouragingly, but the boy remained focused on my Marks.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m not going to-”

“Dakari! Dakari!” he whispered and I recognized that word immediately from Kaze, the Elemancer language.

Demon.

I recoiled as if he had slapped me. I set my jaw and sat back on my haunches. The boy collided with the back wall of the alley, tears of terror entering his eyes.

“Stay away from me! I want nothing to do with you and your tricks!” he cried, arms raised at me. His pupils turned to slits again, and I felt the cobblestones vibrate slightly.

I slowly closed my eyes, and took a breath of resignation. I felt shards of ice pierce my soul. The cold outside and within burned because he had somehow seen me for exactly what I was. A demon who dreamed of being an angel. It didn't mater that the darkness had receded. I was still cursed with these Marks, and I would take them to my grave. People thought being Deified meant you were a holy person. I had once believed that too. But the truth was we just get used by the Gods and Goddesses for their own purpose. The Deified walked around with this "holier than though" attitude, and the common people reinforced it.

But one thing was ignored. Not all Gods are good. Some are closer to Devils, and this boy's Elemancer half knew that instinctually.

I tossed my bandana toward him as I stood, my arms like lead.

“Get yourself cleaned up,” I murmured softly, “And next time, don’t even think of using Elemancy unless they’re trying to kill you. It’ll only cause more trouble.”

The boy paused, looking hesitant, but his eyes kept that dangerous fiery glow. Giving him one last look, I turned to Dusk standing nearby, Myra still in the saddle.

“Miss Rowena, are you alright?” I heard Myra ask. Her hand brushed some dirt from my coat before I heard her continue, “Good gracious you’re cold as ice. And you look paler than normal.”

I tried to calm myself down and looked at her. Myra’s features were schooled in genuine concern as she sat in front of me. I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not as I saw a wrinkle form on her brow.

“Why are your eyes so red?” she asked. I averted my gaze, taking special interest the nearby perfumery window. I pulled my coat tighter around me, but it did nothing against the damn cold in my chest.

“I think the wind got the better of me on the ride here,” I said as I urged Dusk to walk again. We turned around another corner, and the sherriff's office came into view. Myra eyed me suspiciously, until she looked forward again.

She surprised me by turning back around just as we pulled up to the hitching post outside.

“That’s it!” she said.

“What?” I asked, rubbing my eyes again, but I couldn’t keep the waver out of my voice.

“I knew something was different about you! You lost your hat, didn’t you? The one with the burn hole in it?” she asked, “No wonder you’re cold Miss Rowena. Really, are you so much of a drunkard that you forgot it somewhere? Honestly you should just replace it.”

Helping her to dismount, I met her eyes, then looked at the door.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I said, “I just lost my hat.”