Nebby’s evil plot worked. For a moment, I completely forgot about my predicament. Even without the use of fancy weaves, without any magic at all, she crafted a spell of words and sights that made me lose my worries, that plunged me entirely into a wholly delightful spectacle.

For a while, it worked. Then, lengthening shadows crept up my legs and brought blissful relief from the all-consuming warmth. It was a reminder that I was lying down, on my back, basking in the sun.

Me? In the sun? Basking?

The magic broke. I was a monster once more. The Inquisitors were still heading this way. I was still mere days removed from either dying at their hand or living the rest of my probably short life as a fugitive.

I remained. It was nice, the lying down, the doing nothing at all, the comfortable presence of someone that knew what I was and yet wasn’t the least bit afraid. The sun… not so nice. It burned on my exposed face.

And yet I remain.

Maybe I’ll manage until sundown.

Maybe some of the magic still lingers.

As the sun dipped towards the horizon, I felt Nebby prop herself up on her elbows. “Shae adores you, you know. And I don’t know what you did, but for the first time her and her dad aren’t communicating exclusively in angry shouting.”

I chewed on my lip as I processed that, staring blindly up at the sky. I had given up on even the pretense of tracking her with my eyes when she spoke. She knew I was blind now, and my other senses were more than potent enough for a basic understanding of where she was or what she was doing.

Nebby flopped back down to the ground. “Please don’t leave,” she begged suddenly.

That impossible plea did make me turn to look at her. “I... I don’t know?” I answered after a brief hesitation. Futilely, I blinked against the sun burning my eyes. “It’s no longer safe here for me.”

It’s true. It’s not. Why can’t they see that?

Just let me go.

Don’t make this harder than it already is.

“That’s not true!” Nebby protested.

“Nebby­,” I chided, “this—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted me. “I know everyone here takes that tone with me, but not you, please? Okay?”

Something changed in the girl with those words. Maybe it was posture. Maybe it was the sudden sincerity in her voice. Whatever it was, it stirred an unsettling feeling of recognition that made me listen, instead of talk back.

“Okay,” I echoed almost soundlessly.

“I’m not asking you to stay because…” She abandoned her first attempt at explaining with a sucked-in breath and began anew. “I won’t try to convince you that you enjoyed this, that you like it here, that you deserve more than running away and hiding what you are. It’s painfully obvious that you won’t believe any of that bullcrap if I told you. Even though it’s true and not bullcrap at all but… but… look. Last week, Eryn asked you to take on some of my work if you stayed. How much did she offer to pay you for that?”

“Nothing,” I answered, confused. “Just the room?” I had no idea where she was going with this. Her explanation had turned into such a rambling mess I was no longer certain if even she still knew.

“Just the room huh.” She sighed loudly. “Figured as much.” She swung her legs high up in the air and then rolled to a sitting position. “Look, don’t tell anyone I told you this, okay? I mean it. I don’t think they want you to know. And if they learn I told you, they’re just going to use it as an excuse to dump even more responsibility on me.”

I sat up as well, trying to study the shape of her. This was nothing like the Nebby that had walked backward into a tree branch, that had violently massaged my eyebrows into a pout, or whose first ever question to me had been ‘Yo, are you taking my job?’.

“I won’t,” I promised.

“Alright.” Nebby nodded large and exaggerated, apparently pleased enough with my promise to continue. “Eryn, she’s... not as young anymore. She has… fainting spells, the kind you witnessed earlier. Old age and she can’t handle much excitement anymore. It’s not like she’ll admit it, but she can’t both run the bunkhouse and tutor everyone's kids on her own anymore.

“It’s why Rafe and I lend her a hand. Except, then we can’t help out with the logging. We kind of really need the money from that to make it past next winter. And then the flood and those monsters as well. Didn’t even manage to attract the usual amount of seasonal workers because of the flooding. So now Onar helps out with the rebuilding and fills in for us. And then Sulla, you know, from the farm right next to Onar’s, started helping Shae on the farm because Onar’s helping too much.

“Point is, it’s a whole big mess, and all we’re doing is shuffling the work around. We need more hands than we have to get it fixed. You supporting Eryn, even if it’s only a couple of hours each day, it means Rafe and I and a bunch of people can hopefully get back to what we’re supposed to be doing. You have no idea how much that helps. That room is unused anyway. You’re basically free help, at a time we desperately need it.”

I raised my hand. “Why don’t you just…”

I snapped my mouth shut and swallowed the remainder of that sentence before it could damage the trust Nebby had placed in me. Following my instinctive desire to point out that they could just have this Sulla person help Eryn and avoid the whole roundabout mess was not helpful. Childish even. Immature. If the solution were that simple, they'd have done it that way already.

I was not a child. I was the adult here. Though maybe not the only adult. That avalanche of words was still so much Nebby. But there was a seriousness in it, a maturity I had not expected of her. I had seen her as nothing more than a kid, just like Shae. But while Shae had only just turned twelve, Nebby was sixteen, technically an adult. I was beginning to see how much of a difference those four years made.

It was her that had gone to Rivenston to get a healer for Uncle Tare. Today it had been her and Reya that had managed the crowd. And then she explained my predicament to Shae for me. She had even been there to help me carry Uncle Tare the first time the old man had been good enough to come outside.

When I had finally revealed the truth about myself to Rafe and Reya and had been a total mess in front of those two and everything had been such a disaster, she had carelessly dashed inside and… she must have already known I was a vampire then. That same evening, when I had been sitting on that log and only Limn had dared to sit with me, she’d practically jumped straight on top of me. Her antics then had broken the tension, a deliberate act I now realized.

The Nebby that ran into tree branches was just as much a mask as the human child hunter me. The idiot butterfly was more than just an affectionate and dim goof. She merely pretended to be that carefree, to shirk responsibilities. This right here was her dropping that mask, to roundabout tell me that… that this town needed help, and that they’d take it even from a thing like me.

“Wow,” I spoke eventually.

“See, even you just thought I was an idiot.” She giggled merrily and playfully punched my shoulder. “Though if anyone asks, the only reason I took you up here is to prevent you from upsetting everyone with your dinner dance.”

“My dinner dance?” I huffed in annoyance.

Fine, news had traveled. Of course it had. By now everyone here probably knew about the time I had promised half the town I’d be having dinner with someone else, simply so no one would find it suspicious that I did not eat with them. That didn’t mean she had to give it such a ridiculous name.

She laughed. “Divines, you should have seen Reya’s face when she figured out you had tricked her. Lorne told me it was glorious.”

“Lorne?”

Please tell me I haven’t forgotten yet another person's name?

“You know? Lorne?” She giggled as the name failed to stir any memories. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget just how new you are in town. Feels like you’ve lived here for weeks but it’s really only days, isn’t it? Reya’s girlfriend. Helped us carry Uncle Tare the first time he came out. Was back at Eryn’s just now. Came in together with Reya.”

“Reya’s… girlfriend…” I sampled these strange words. “Reya’s… girlfriend?” The absurd concept of Reya with a family failed to make sense. “Reya has a family?”

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“I know, right? She’s more caring than you think. Just does not know how to show it.” Nebby was silent for a moment, appearing to mull over some thought. “Lorne’s gran has sort of been slowly wasting away for a while now. I suppose supporting Lorne with the care for her gran is one way Reya shows her feelings. Her inviting you to dinner was probably the biggest show of affection you were ever going to get out of her. She never has people over for dinner.”

I chewed my lips as I thought. Reya had sort of invited me to dinner again just now, in a sort of very indirect way. I think. Maybe. “Reya invited me to dinner again earlier, didn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re helping me get out of dinner with Reya?”

“Pretty much.” She sniggered.

I laughed with her.

“Yeah, just laugh,” she said after we were done giggling. “Not only am I risking Reya’s ire. It’s already past dinner time as well. I’m the one skipping dinner for you. Mom and Pop probably think you ate me by now, dumped my body somewhere in the woods, and then ran.” A little nervous titter escaped her lips. “Talking about that, I'm really glad you simply told us what was bothering you when you came back, instead of you know… going all stereotypical vampire and killing us all in our sleep to get rid of the evidence.”

What?

Of course I didn’t just slaughter everyone. That never worked. That was such an absurd human notion, thinking that anger, violence, or murder could fix things. Corpses only ever brought problems. They didn’t...

I stared up at a sky so bright it was merely an expanse of nothingness to me and properly considered it. Maybe this was one of those rare cases where I shouldn’t just dismiss the idea outright.

If I assumed that someone would tell on me — and with 40 or so people in this village that was almost a certainty — then the Inquisitors would learn my name, my description, and maybe if I was really unlucky even the direction I ran away in.

A massive slaughter might actually work as a solution. It was certainly a better option than anything I had thought of so far. If I killed everyone then the Inquisition would know nothing about the perpetrator and would only have a days-old trail into the wilderness to go on. All the corpses might make them that much more desperate to catch me though.

It wouldn’t even be that hard. This town was defenseless. Reya was the only real threat, so I would have to take care of her first. After that, it was just a matter of being silent and fast enough to prevent people from waking up and running away. That would be a pain if I had to start chasing people. Maybe I should just kill the Inquisitors instead. Things would be so much easier if I intercepted them on the way here and caught them unaware in the middle of the night.

“Um... that was a joke by the way. Could you maybe not... consider this quite so seriously?”

With my body remaining perfectly still, I turned my head to look in Nebby's direction. She was suddenly nervous, a hint of worry to her, a fidgety nervousness that had nothing to do with her mischievous nature. With me blindly staring at her the worry steadily blossomed into proper fear.

“If you do kill everyone, could you start with me?” Her voice broke, a hint of terror seeping through the levity she tried to project. “I'd rather not listen to the screams of everyone dying, silently wondering who'll be next.”

Right.

I was just thinking. I did not actually think I could. Kill them, that is. Not all of them at least. Not as easily as I would have been able to weeks ago. I would have to kill Shae, now that I had just begun to consider her as a potential friend. Murder didn't seem like the friend thing to do. And maybe, if I was going to be hunted and killed anyway, maybe I wanted to try and taste this having friends thing more than I wanted a dubious and nebulous head-start on the Inquisitors chasing me.

That would require me to stay though. And staying, even a single night longer, even a couple more hours, was definitely a bad idea.

Aaaaaah!

Why is this so hard!

I shook the predatory focus out of my rigid body, grabbed onto my hair, and pulled it loose from its braid, a very physical demonstration of my frustration. Then I scowled, pulled my eyebrows all the way down, and pushed out my lower lip. As close as I could get my face to the cartoonish pout Nebby had massaged it into earlier today. “I think I like murder jokes just as little as you do,” I admitted.

“Thanks… um… that’s reassuring, I guess.” The tremble of her voice betrayed that she wasn’t as reassured as she claimed.

In truth, I wasn’t reassured either. Despite what I wanted, I was not like them. Little moments like this reminded me of that more than anything. Regardless of how I presented myself, despite my best attempts, I remained a predator among prey. Humans might occasionally lash out, often irrationally, in fear, in anger. But they didn’t casually consider slaughtering dozens, without even a hint of remorse. It was unsettling, to them, and to me.

Would I even know if I suddenly do something horrendously unforgivable?

This is why they won’t trust me, why they can’t ever trust me.

Maybe it’s better to simply let the Inquisitors kill me.

Silence settled between us. While I normally welcomed it, after hours of Nebby’s incessant talk, the lack of it felt hollow. Despite not knowing how, I felt a need to fill the void, and reassure Nebby that I was not as much of an inhuman monster as she now thought.

If only I knew how to carry a conversation. I needed something human. Silly. Not at all disturbing or threatening. I could probably stretch a conversation with hunting and tracking, but Nebby did not need another reminder of how good a predator I was. Even something as simple as whittling seemed too aggressive now. Calligraphy and penmanship were too boring. Braiding then? Yes, I could probably teach her some original ways to braid her hair.

Wait.

Does she even have hair long enough to braid?

“Nebby, how long is your hair?” I asked, only to panic at my own weird out of nowhere question. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that.”

Aaaaah… why can't she just be in the shade so I can see?

Why am I never observant enough to notice these things when I can see them?

I’d have to ask something else now to cover this up. Frantically I dug through the memories of the painfully few instances where I had actually paid attention to what people did to have fun. Adults just got themselves drunk. Kids pretended to be Inquisitors, or worse, engaged in some kind of horrendous make-believe predator-prey activity. Games needed pieces and bits and implements we didn’t have here in the forest, not that I even knew the rules for any.

Wait.

The thing those two kids I traded the monastery job with did.

That would work, right?

“Are you ticklish?” I wiggled my gloved fingers in Nebby’s direction.

“...no?” she edged away from me, clearly uncomfortable with my string of weird questions.

No no no! This is even worse. How do I fix this?

Quick! Funny. Be funny!

“Some people think feeding on them tickles a little. Need to know if I need to silence you before I drink—” I rolled to my stomach, slammed my head into the rocky ground, and screamed into the ground until all I could taste was dirt.

Sarding hell brain! That’s even worse than my eating babies comment.

“Sorry, sorry sorry, shitty murder joke,” I spit out mouthfuls of earth and tiny little stones together with my apology. “Won’t do it again, never fed on anyone, please don’t run away screaming.”

Forehead still on the ground I listened for a reaction. Any reaction? A hint of panic? The sharp taste of fear in the air? The complete lack of a heartbeat that would indicate that Nebby had already run away? No. None of that. She was still here, her flavor a mess of different emotions being filtered through the grit in my nose and mouth.

Silence. A little chortle. “That’s a lot of dirt you ate. You need to wash out your mouth?”

Hesitantly, I looked up. “No. I’m good. I’m sorry. I wanted to say something not disturbing and then I panicked and then…” I gestured from her to the ground.

She warily scooted a little closer. “I can’t believe you’re more freaked out by this than I am.”

I tried to get some more sand off my lips and tongue with my hands. Entirely ineffectively. My gloves were covered in the same dirt. Everything tasted even more like earth afterward. I sighed, defeated. “I think I would have preferred a normal dinner over this.”

Nebby laughed.“Vale, you’re adorable, but no more creepy vampire jokes at dusk, alright?”

“Alright,” I happily agreed.

“And I am not ticklish.”

“You certain about that?” A mischievous smirk tugged at my lips. “You are trying to sound entirely too convincing.”

And there’s delightful wildflower mischief sneaking up on us from the forest.

“I am not and there is no need for you to test it,” she snapped, tucking her arms in tight to protect her armpits.

This was childish. This was stupid. I had only ever seen this done from a distance by little kids, child hunters barely half my age. But I did not need careful observation of the game for this. I did not need a detailed study on how the game differed with older prey. The weak spots on my target were obvious from her posture alone. Armpits. Sides. And the sun was finally dipping low enough to plunge this clearing into the shade and rid me of my weakness.

I pounced.

As Nebby spun away from me, she shrieked and peeled with laughter in equal measure. She darted away from the plateau, in exactly the direction I intended her to run. She ducked in between the trees, and was promptly tackled to the ground, Shae getting tangled up in her legs.

The two teenagers wrestled on the ground, both howling with laughter. “Shoes!” Shae instructed me in between heavy panting. “Get her shoes off, Vale.”

Nebby kicked my wildflower friend off of her, rolled over, and jumped to her feet. Missing one boot that Shae had managed to get off, Nebby stumbled barefoot into something sharp, swore, and hopped one-legged toward the nearest tree.

I leaped at the weakened prey, snatched my arms around it mid-jump, pulled it down with me, and twisted in the air so I could protect her by hitting the hard ground first. We smacked into the forest floor, a jagged rock biting painfully into my back. I rolled to flip our positions, with one arm protectively wrapped around Nebby’s head to shield it. I straddled her. I pinned Nebby in place with my legs so that Shae had unimpeded access to the weakly flailing girl.

“No fair. No teaming up. No fair,” Nebby protested, uselessly and feebly pummeling me with her fists, while Shae's tickle assault descended on her feet. “No-o-o-o-o… not the fee-ee-ee… Shae! Shae! Shae! Naaaagh!”