She stared at him with her arms crossed. Matthew felt like he was living the same moment over and over as his mother continued to give him the same answer, no matter what he said or how hard he pleaded.
“It’s far too dangerous,” his mother started, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes for a split second. “City folk are only out for themselves, and those other ones. I-I-I shudder to even think.”
“How would you know?!” He bellowed, before sheepishly looking away. He instantly regretted his words and wished he could take them back.
His mother sighed sympathetically, diminishing her stature as the air left her lungs. “There’s a reason I haven’t been,” she replied, much more calmly than Matthew had expected. “There’s a reason why I married someone as boring as your father.”
Matthew looked over at the target of his mother's derision, who finally looked up at them, giving a polite nod before getting back to minding his own business.
“Dad’s been plenty of times,” Matthew argued, turning back to his mother. “Nothing happened to him.” His father's quick glance reminded Matthew of the stories he'd listened to at bedtime. “He even tried to join the City Guard.”
"Well, he didn’t get in, did he?” His mother shot back, her hands on her hips and her sights set squarely on her husband, who dared not offer an opinion either way.
Matthew breathed a small sigh of relief as the door went. He kept his laughter to himself as his father scrambled out of the kitchen, using the knocking as an excuse to escape the conversation. He recognised the voice that rumbled from the front door through to the kitchen immediately. He and his mother waited in silence as they listened to his father and the boy at the door discussing the upcoming journey as though it were a certainty.
It wasn’t until his father returned to the kitchen with the boy that another word was spoken.
“Are we doing this thing or what?” Tom, Matthew’s older friend asked, excitement dripping from every word.
Silence resumed in the kitchen. Matthew’s father slunk back into his seat and sulked. “I did get offered a position as a comisery man.”
Tom, not being adept at reading a room, continued with enthusiastic abandon, “You wouldn’t do as a comisery man, Bob. You’re far too cheerful!”
Matthew and his father looked back at his mother, awaiting the inevitable eruption. Instead, there was the tiniest hint of a smile on her face. Tom often pushed his luck, but he had a knack for using his brazenness to disarm even the most stubborn opponent.
“It’s not me you need to ask,” Matthew piped up tamely, gesturing towards his mother.
“Come on, Annie! You know I’d never let anything happen to Matty.” As his mother listened to Tom, her entire demeanour seemed to soften as she digested his emboldened plea.
“It’s not you I’m worried about.”
“They won’t hurt us.” Said Tom, wrapping an arm around Matthew’s shoulder.
“Can you promise me that?”
Matthew shared a glance with Tom. If there was one person who could get what he wanted, it was his best friend. He was often jealous of how easy it was for Tom to talk his way into, and then out of, any situation.
“I can promise if anything bad does happen, I’ll protect your boy and put my life on the line instead.” Tom said cheekily.
Matthew witnessed a sight he didn’t think possible. His mother smirked.
“I just don’t know…” She began talking herself back out of it as she stared at Matthew like he was some precious trinket. “Where will you sleep?”
“That’s all taken care of.” Tom looked down at his feet as he spoke. “My treat for Matthew’s birthday!” He looked up again with a smug look of achievement plastered upon his face. “So it really would be a waste if we didn’t get to go.”
Matthew’s mother had not averted her gaze from him the entire time; Tom simply participating as background noise. Eventually, she made an odd noise herself, which seemed to signal neither approval nor disapproval.
"Well, we’ll head upstairs and get packed. While you come to your senses.” Tom said as he pushed Matthew up the stairs and towards his room.
He had very little of anything to pack. Perhaps the odd item of clothing—nothing that would require more than a couple of minutes to gather together. Tom sat in the small chair he kept in his room and rested his feet on Matthew’s bed before raising both his arms up and placing them behind his head. The vision he now had of Tom summed him up perfectly. What must it be like to have Tom’s outlook on life? To have the effect he has on others?
That they were so different must have been what made them such good friends.
Although Tom clearly considered the outcome a foregone conclusion, Matthew was still less than convinced. He quietly left his room and edged his way to the wall closest to the top of the stairs. He tried to listen in on what little he could make out, hoping that his meagre packing had not been in vain.
“I suppose you think this is a good idea?” He could just about make out his mother's voice, the anger in it making it slightly easier to hear.
“It’ll do the boy some good. Goodness knows he could use some toughening up.” Came his fathers reply.
There was some silence as his mother felt the sting of the words almost as much as he did. To his surprise, it was his father who broke the silence.
“You’ve raised him into a fine young man. It’s time for him to see what the world is really like. There are things that you can’t prepare him for, things that he has to learn and experience on his own.”
A haunting silence filled the house.
Matthew wasn’t so sure that if he went downstairs in this moment, that it would be his father speaking the words, mostly because of how forthright he was being with his mother, but also because his father was equally guilty of “mothering” him. The next words spoken were most definitely his father.
“You’ve raised him right.”
He looked back across the landing towards his room, where Tom was now standing in the doorway, a massive grin across his face. Matthew couldn’t tell if he was amused by his parents calling him out as the sheltered child he had always been or if he was smiling at the fact that they were slowly talking themselves around.
A knot cramped in his stomach. They were actually going to allow him to go.
These things his father said he would experience, he wouldn’t really have to do them alone; he’d have Tom. And it was true; he really did need to toughen up. Harsh words coming from his father, but true nonetheless.
“Fine!” His mother exclaimed, exasperated. She shouted the next part loud enough that he was meant to hear it even without eavesdropping, “If you become a vampire, don’t come crying to me!”
Another silence fell as Matthew felt a pang of guilt wash over him.
What if his mother was right? What if he was turned into a vampire? What if he was hurt? What if he died? And THEN became a vampire? That’s how it works, right?
There were too many variables; anything and everything could go wrong. He didn’t want to disappoint his parents; he was unsure now what option would lead to this. The self-doubt that plagued him was never far away.
“No going into the vampire district.” His mother finally said, as he and Tom reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Cross my heart, Annie.” Said Tom, almost not getting away with calling her ‘Annie’ this time.
“No Women. And no tattoos!”
Matthew struggled to hide how he was feeling. He now found himself grinning inanely, worrying that he might look slightly like Tom, he wiped the expression from his face as quickly as he could.
“I mean it.” His mother said, slightly sternly, but with a soft smile breaking through. “Swear on my life.”
“I swear on your life.” Said Tom.
“Not you.”
“I swear.” Matthew said. “Cross my heart, hope to—“
“Right.” His father said, rubbing his hands together as he rose to his feet, “I’ll make the arrangements with tonight's caravan. So you better get ready.”
Matthew knew his father had connections. As a skilled hunter, his talent and prowess were respected by the villagers. The merchants also appreciated him as one of the townies who sold the animals they hunted to the city’s abattoir. From what he’d gathered, a man named Fenrir paid handsomely for the animal's blood too.
Matthew held up his small sack of possessions, while Tom rocked backwards and forwards on his heels.
As they stood at the door, waiting for his father's return, the sun slowly fell from the sky. Part of him didn’t want to go. Not now because he was scared or having second thoughts, but because he could see his mother fighting back tears. When his father did return, he put his arm around his mother.
“I’ll be okay.” Matthew said. “I’ll be back the morning after next.”
“I know.” His mother replied. “You’ll understand when you’re a parent one day. It’s hard to watch your baby grow and go off to fend for themselves. It felt like only yesterday you were the little boy crying out in the night for his mummy.”
Matthew glared at a laughing Tom.
His mother put her hand on his cheek. “Please just be safe.”
“I will.” Matthew said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Worry about me if you want.” Tom joked. “I’m kidding. I’ll be fine. Anyone goes near him, I’ll beat them up.”
“I’d like to see that,” quipped Matthew.
“We better go, or we’ll be late.” Said his father, trying to tear Matthew away from his mother.
“Have a good time.” His mother said, “But remember... no women, no tattoos, and no becoming a vampire.”
She tried to give him one last squeeze, but Matthew pulled away. As they turned to leave, Tom, being his usual self, stepped in to take the hug for him. It caught him slightly off-guard when he felt Annie hug him back.
“I’ll promise not to become a vampire too. But I can’t promise no women and no tattoos.”
“Go before I change my mind.” His mother said, “And before I question your taste in friends,"
“Right to the heart.” Said Tom. “I thought we had something special.”
Matthew’s father slung his bindle over his shoulder and called out to Tom, “Come on, silver tongue.”
He trailed behind Tom and his father, finding it more and more difficult to proceed as he got further from his house. He knew they were trying to talk to him, but he couldn’t hear them. His mind was elsewhere. He turned back for a moment and saw his mother hiding her face in her hands.
He wanted immediately to go back.
“She’ll be okay.” He felt his father gently pushing him onward. “You’ll be back before she knows it.”
“What if something does happen to me?” Matthew looked at his father with tears beginning to form in his eyes.
“It won’t. Remember the stories I told you as a kid? The ones I swore you to never tell your mother? I was reckless, Matthew. You’re already wiser and better than I ever was. You get that from her. Don’t hide that away from the world. You’re going to be okay. Both of you are. The city might seem like a scary place, but trust me, not everyone will be out to get you. Some people will want to help you. Other than you and your mother, some of my best memories come from the people I met there.”
“Maybe you could’ve got a job with the comisery men, Bob... writing epitaphs.” Tom joked.
“Just don’t let that one talk to anyone.” His father pointed at Tom, “He’ll have you executed in a snap.”
The clicking of his father's fingers brought him back.
“You nearly had me going there, Bob,” said Tom.
All at once, they reached for their noses and mouths. The eye-watering smell of offal crashed into them and was at the back of their throats before they could do anything to lessen the impact. He wished for a mask, a peg, or anything else that would rid him of the horrid stench. His father laughed at the boys’ reaction to the smell he had to deal with every day.
The centre of the convoy congregated at the tron and market cross, the only building in the entire village that could be considered modern. The long line of caravans snaking their way out of town despite being at a standstill. He watched on as several people loaded up the carts towards the back of the caravan with animal carcasses. These were nightly visits, but not every night did they collect goods.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“You smell that?” His father asked sarcastically.
“I’m surprised we couldn’t smell it from home.” Matthew replied, careful to keep his hand over his mouth as he spoke.
“It’s certainly pungent. It’s also why I’ve negotiated you a seat towards the front of the convoy.”
Tom’s eyes lit up at the words. “Riding in style. Thanks Bob. I thought I’d have to do this the whole way.” He clipped his nose and forced his voice to take on a nasally tone. “It’d be weird talking the whole way like this.”
“Who said you need to talk?” Asked Matthew.
Tom feigned a fake, mawkish heartbreak as Matthew’s father went off to speak to a group of well-dressed men. The man his father was talking to wore a fancy suit and top hat. The only other person he had ever seen dressed like that in the village was the undertaker.
As he turned to ask Tom what he made of the spectacle, he found him forlornly kicking at the gravel that made up the side of the road. As Matthew approached him, he kicked a rather large rock. He tried his best to mask the pain.
“You're so lucky.” Tom said to Matthew through gritted teeth.
Matthew turned around, confused. “How do you mean? Your parents want you to go to the city.”
“They want a better life for me. It’s not the same thing. If anything happened to your parents, you’d be fine. If anything happened to mine, I’d have nothing.”
“But your parents are farmers.”
“Exactly. There’s not much money in feeding humans these days. Everyone’s doing it.”
“What about for vampires?”
“Are you mad?! They’re desperate, but not that much. Could you imagine people openly raising livestock for vampires? There’d be outrage."
“Um… What about a life at sea?”
“You obviously don’t know what lurks out there.”
“Sea monsters?” Matthew joked.
“Pirates.” Tom replied bluntly. “They own the seas.”
Matthew laughed. “Sure.”
"Vampires are easy to imagine, but you draw the line at pirates?”
“I do believe in them, but come on. Why would they bother about us? If I were one, I wouldn’t give a town like this a second thought.”
"Well, thinking like that is exactly why you aren’t one.”
“Don’t they only attack at night anyway?”
“Mostly.”
“So you could fish during the day." Matthew said. “Sorted. Besides, if you ever want to be part of the Guard, you’re going to have to learn to fight.”
“Who said I wanted to be part of the Guard?”
“You… Every. Single. Day.”
“We’ll see.”
“I guess if the Guard doesn’t work out, you could try that thing you and my father were joking about?” Matthew said, already trying to manage Tom’s expectations.
“The comisery men? Hah! Horrible job.” Tom replied curtly, looking somewhat offended. “Holding fake funerals for people who have become vampires. What’s the point?” Tom furrowed his brow and looked at his feet.
“Closure for their families.” Bob said as he overheard their chatter.
Noises from the front of the convoy signalled that it was time to head off.
“You’re going to be okay.” His father repeated. Don’t worry about me or your mother; what’s a couple of days? When you get back, you can tell us everything you got up to. Well, maybe not everything.” He gave the boys a wink. “Have a good time. Good luck.” He turned to Tom. “Take care of my boy. And if you do try for the Guard, don’t drag my son into it. Or else. You hear?”
“On my word, sir.” Tom replied.
The caravans began to move, Matthew looked for his father to lead them towards the front.
“Off you go, then. Your adventure starts now."
This was it; it was now or never. Matthew took a deep breath and looked to his side for his best friend, but Tom had already taken off towards the head of the convoy. He tried to catch up, passing a number of the carts as he made his way to the front.
Calling them carts was doing them a disservice. They were wooden and had wheels, but the cargo each carried was housed within a wooden compartment that could comfortably house a small family. Indeed, many of the poorer families of the village would be grateful for dwellings close to this standard. Each of the compartments was curtained, regardless of its contents. An old trader’s technique to prevent wandering eyes from coveting its contents. It also made it more difficult for would-be thieves to target specific wagons. Anyone going to the trouble of trying to rob one could just as easily make off with a cart full of hay as opposed to anything of value.
Matthew was only slightly taller than the large spoked wheels he found himself running alongside. All four sides of each cart had a block of wooden seating so it could double as a means of transport. Clever alone to maximise profit, but even more so in the fact that it provided an additional layer of protection for the cargo. The important stuff was kept on the inside, the less valuable on the outside.
Tom had made his way to the front of the convoy, but something stopped him from hopping on board. “They’re all full!” he called back to Matthew, who was now only two carts behind. For whatever reason, only every other cart was well lit, and it was evident that the cart he found himself beside was also full.
As Matthew caught up with Tom, they stopped and waited for any spaces to appear. They didn’t have to wait long, as the second unlit cart presented them with their chance. Tom leapt up first, not having any luggage, making the task that much easier. Matthew walked alongside as he passed his bindle to Tom before feeling himself being hauled aboard.
He took his seat as the caravan moved along the smooth road. As he settled into his seat, there wasn’t much space between his head and the “roof” of the cart, which extended ever so slightly over the central compartment, offering them some slight cover should it start to rain.
Looking back towards the town, the darkness soon enveloped the little light it produced. With the disappearance of home came the biting cold of the unknown. He bundled himself up before trying to snuggle up to Tom in order to make use of his body heat. The naturally good idea drew only a look of wariness from Tom, who edged himself slightly further away.
“When we get there, it’s straight to the nearest tavern,” Tom said excitedly.
Matthew wasn’t listening; his own thoughts were drowning him out. This was the first time he’d left home without his parents, and it was going to be his first time in the city. The first time his mother had trusted him to be on his own.
“And then on to a brothel,” Tom continued. “I know I promised your mum there’d be no women, but surely it’ll be fine to look. Besides, your dad basically told us it was okay as long as we kept it to ourselves, and it’s not like I promised anyone anything.”
“Yeah,” Matthew offered quietly. “It’ll be great. You can do it. I’ll wait outside.”
He was determined to honour his mother’s wishes. He considered going to sleep and mentioned to Tom that this was his intention. However, he was fighting the excitement of going somewhere new. He drifted in and out of sleep, and of thought as Tom recounted tales of the only time he’d been to the city. Matthew was used to Tom’s inability to stop talking; it would sound odd to be without it.
Yet, it seemed like someone else didn’t have the same patience.
As Tom droned on and on and on, a man’s hand stretched down from the top of the cart and covered Tom’s mouth.
“Will you be quiet, boy?” the man asked.
“What are you doing up there?” came Tom’s reply.
“I’m concentrating.”
“On what?”
“The moon,” the man said. “It’s not every day you experience a sky as clear as it is tonight. I heard you mention pirates earlier. Almost full... prime time for them to come ashore.”
“Is that why you’re up there?” Tom asked. “To look at the sky?”
“That’s none of your business.” The man said as he turned onto his back.
“Sorry to wake you, mister,” Matthew said. “He doesn’t know when to stop. It’s my first time in the city, so he’s only trying to calm me down. My parents were afraid of letting me go, especially my mum. She thinks something bad might happen to me.”
“She wouldn’t be wrong," the man said dryly. “The city may look beautiful, but it has a dark heart. You ought to have your wits about you when you’re there.” The stranger tilted his head towards Tom, “And you ought to not talk as much.”
The two boys settled back into their seats, Tom flicked his head sarcastically in the direction of the man who had interrupted him.
“He was nice,” joked Tom.
“I heard that.”
“What do you think he’s doing up there?” Tom whispered.
“I don’t know,” said Matthew. “It’s got nothing to do with us anyway.”
“You’re not curious?”
“He is,” said the man. “But he has manners enough to know when to leave someone well enough alone.” The mean leaned over again. “I’m working, if it’s all the same to you. Guarding this cart.”
“Do you have a weapon?” Tom’s eyes widened.
“Not on me,”
“Then how can you be guarding it?" Tom replied, slightly dejected.
“Just because I don’t have one on me doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”
This time Matthew’s eyes widened as the man lifted a curtain to reveal what he was protecting; an army of weapons. Other than the unsophisticated tools of a hunter, Matthew had never seen so many weapons before. Seeing them all neatly arrayed made him feel queasy.
“Who do they belong to?” Tom asked.
“You ask a lot of questions,” the man replied.
“I’m inquisitive.” Tom smiled, remembering when his mother had used the word to describe him. Most likely to explain away his behaviour to someone he had annoyed.
“To the Guard. Or at least, that’s what they tell me. We’re moving them to a safer place for him.”
“Him?” Matthew asked, intrigued.
The man leaned in a little closer and whispered, “Fenrir.”
Matthew had only heard adults talk about the man before. He didn’t know if Fenrir owned the city or if he was just rich enough to do what he wanted. People almost always mentioned his name when discussing the city, regardless of the circumstances. He sounded like a scary and imposing figure. The sort of person Matthew hoped to never meet.
“Why does he need all those weapons?” Tom asked.
“Why do you always need to talk?” The stranger was getting annoyed with him now.
Matthew sniggered to himself, but he stopped as he spotted something on the horizon. It looked like the forest was ablaze. The combined hue of the city’s lights created a glow much greater than the sum of its parts. Even at this distance, the impressive fortifications surrounding the city could be made out. However, it was an enormous wall that stole his attention, cutting through the city’s light like a crack in a pane of glass.
He looked at Tom, who had suddenly gone quiet, and was surprised to see that he too was taken aback. It said a lot about the city that someone who had visited it before was in awe of it. Torches surrounded the outer walls, but from what he could see, the smaller section that was encroached by the wall was much brighter than the rest.
“What’s that?” Asked Matthew.
“The vampire district,” the man replied.
“But it’s brighter than the other parts of the city?”
The man's gaze lingered on the spectacle for a few seconds before he responded, "Funny, isn’t it? Flames are different from the sun. It might be the vampire’s district, but come nightfall, you’ll find more humans there than vampires.”
As they descended into the valley, the defences began to tower over them. To him, they seemed impregnable, even if some of the fortifications looked at least a century old.
On the final approach to the city, everyone sat in reverential silence, as though speaking might awaken the mighty occupants of the city against them. They came to a wide bridge that forded a river, with gatehouses on either side.
“Is this it?” Matthew asked?
“Not quite,” the man said. “We’re going to pass by on the outskirts of the vampire district.”
“Is it safe?”
“As long as you stay on the caravan.”
The caravans came to a sudden halt.
“What’s happening?” Matthew asked, worried.
“This happened last time,” Tom said. “It’s standard.”
“The city can’t just let anyone in,” the man explained. “You never know where someone is coming from or what their motives are. It wouldn’t be the first time those with a desire for violence and destruction have tried to sneak through. We’ll pass through soon enough.”
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the caravans began crawling along again. The sound of the massive gate opening caused a shudder to run down his spine. Travelling through the vampire district made Matthew both scared and excited. He’d never seen a vampire up close before, or at least he thought he hadn’t. He knew it was difficult to tell the difference.
As he took in the massive military presence that lined the bridge, he heard the second gate begin to open, the caravan not being required to stop this time.
“What’s that?” he asked as they passed by a grand villa made of marble. The building looked like it belonged in the centre of the city, not out here, where they had just arrived.
“That’s the home of the man who wants the weapons,” the man said.
“Fenrir?” Tom asked, his interest piqued. “That's where he lives?”
“Impressive, isn’t it? What money can buy you.”
Matthew couldn’t take his eyes off it. The villa was made up of a square collection of houses. The building on the farthest side was much larger than the rest.
That must be where he is.
He wondered what must be inside the rest of the buildings. It was beautiful to look at in the dark, lit by the torches around it. He couldn’t fathom how it would look bathed in gorgeous sunlight.
“He’s in there?” The hairs on the back of Matthew’s neck rose.
“Always.”
“He never comes out?” Tom asked.
“Fenrir’s lived for many years, and he’s accumulated quite a fortune. Do you know what happens to a vampire’s possessions when they die?”
Matthew looked at Tom, and both shook their heads.
“Everything goes back to the city,” the man explained. “Vampires can bear no heirs, and all other family rights are forfeit. Fenrir refuses to let anything be taken away from him. He’s built an empire, and he’ll be damned if anyone is going to take it from him.”
The caravan rattled through more streets, Matthew craning his neck to never lose sight of the villa, in vain hope that he might catch a brief glimpse of the owner now that there was some distance of safety.
They reached a point where the outer wall intersected with another in front of them. As they turned left, the road opened up into a thoroughfare where even more caravans were filtering through. Every one of them was making their way to a massive depot where goods from across the continent were stored. Interconnected canvas tents made up the warehouse. The noise emanating from the entrance a buzz of bartering and arguing. Clattering of ceramic wares the only thing to punctuate the din. This building had a footprint as large as his own little village; it was also where their journey terminated.
Above their heads and behind them, they could hear the man getting to his feet and descending from the cart.
"Any of those gates will do you boys just fine," he said, gesturing to one of the many massive entrances etched into the wall.
Matthew grabbed his possessions and alighted from the cart. There were guards everywhere, observing the traffic coming and going of sellers and distributors claiming exotic goods from the warehouse. Together they watched the man head off towards the head of the convoy and converse with the same smartly dressed man he had seen his father speaking with. They appeared to be arguing about payment. The altercation ended with the man snatching the money from the merchant's grip.
It had been the longest Matthew had ever known Tom to go without speaking. When he turned to see what was wrong with him, he saw him transfixed by the large gate and the constant stream of people flowing towards them.
The roads were well maintained here, unlike the less important walkways. Still, the pavements consisted of small, coloured cubes of rock. Had there not been so many missing, they would have been arranged in intricate white designs bordered by their black counterparts. The houses and other buildings here looked unoccupied; slate roofs mingled with dapples of thatch; they weren’t too far removed from what he was used to. If this was the vampire district, he wasn’t impressed.
“Don’t you have somewhere to stay?” The man had returned, nearly causing the frozen statue of Tom to leap out of its skin.
“It was last minute,” replied Tom.
Matthew stared with burning anger at Tom, which would have been better directed at himself for believing that Tom would have any sort of forethought or organisation.
“I might know somewhere... but I would have to come with you both.”
“I’m not sure my mum would be happy if I went off with the first stranger I came across,” said Matthew.
“The name’s Terrant.”
“I’m Tom,” Tom proclaimed, pushing Matthew to the side. “And he’s Matthew.”
“Terrant what?” Matthew asked, knowing it was impolite to call his elders by their first name.
“Just… Terrant.”
Tom knew the implication immediately and turned his back to Terrant so that he could discuss the situation with Matthew. “I’m not so sure we should go with him, you know.” Tom was raising his top lip in order to bear his teeth, making exaggerated biting motions. The effect of which was to make his face look even more stupid than it did naturally. After a few more confused seconds, Matthew realised that this was Tom’s clumsy attempt to communicate that the man was a vampire.
He looked between Terrant and Tom, trying to decide if this was a good idea or not.
Tom, worrying that Matthew was about to agree, tried to kill the idea dead, “I take it this place is on the other side of the night gates? That means you can’t come with us.”
“Let me worry about that.” Terrant said convincingly.
Matthew nodded at the man before turning back to Tom. “At least HE has somewhere we can stay.”
Tom appeared apprehensive, a look that did not suit him.
Terrant grabbed Matthew by the hand and led him towards the gate, leaving Tom to trail behind. As they got closer, it became apparent that no one was exiting through the gate itself; the traffic was only flowing in one direction. Anyone leaving was directed to the sides. There was no queue to exit, not with some darkness left for people to enjoy the vampire district.
They entered the small stone compartment to the side of the gate. In the centre of the small room sat a cauldron-like burning brazier. Terrant thrust Matthew between himself and the fire as though it might come to life and pounce at any moment. He was grateful for the heat it gave off; the excitement of having set foot in the vampire district had made him forget how cold it was.
On the other side of the room, two guards were chatting amongst themselves, almost taking no notice of them. However, as Tom stumbled into the room, the guards began to approach them.
“Do the test, son.” Terrant shouted at Tom. “Hold your hands up to the fire and count to fifteen. Slowly.”
The guards laughed, “He’s far too young to be a vampire.”
“You never know!” Terrant winked at the guards.
Tom lifted his hands and placed his palms dangerously close to the flames and started counting. He got to ten before pulling his hands away in pain.
“Vampire! Vampire!” cried Terrant before laughing with the guards.
Tom wrung his hands together and shot Terrant a spiteful look that suggested he might reveal who the real vampire was.
As they left the small room and entered the human part of the city, Terrant released Matthew from his clutches. “Right boys, that’s the place.” Terrant pointed to the very first inn they came across, and there were a fair few to pick from.
And with that, he was gone.
Tom gave him a look that was supposed to mean "I told you so." Matthew would have to wrestle with the thought that perhaps he had unleashed a monster in the human part of the city.