Chapter Two

  The Murder

  The following morning, he and Jane met within the Red Maiden’s Garden. She was relentless in her desire to see him following his attempt to talk to Pyro. Theo reclined on the grass, watching a patch of shade retreat at his feet while the sun moved along its curved path high above. The heat grew, providing Theo with the bleak anticipation that it was going to be another scorching day.

  “Well?” Jane asked, breaking her fast with a pomegranate fruit. Theo studied the way she used a hair pin to meticulously pluck at the fruit’s seeds, sending the needle back and forth from fruit to mouth almost monotonously. "Tell me how your talk with Pyro went." She asked shrewdly.

  Theo had to admit, the conversation with Pyro had become far less important after the encounter with the man he now suspected was some Imperial spy. The spy who had handed Theo a small fortune on the principle he become his eyes and ears. The mark itself was currently in a pocket, which is where it would remain while he told his story to Jane.

  Theo had pondered what to do with the coin; how best to spend it. His first consideration was to pay off some of his enormous debt to Margret before he realised that using the mark in such a way would raise too much suspicion. The Matron would undoubtably pry into how he came to obtain such a treasure seen as she paid all his wages herself. She certainly wouldn’t believe his story and would be quick to think he stole the coin, which she would simply steal it back and call it the Emperor’s justice. He had thought about breaking the mark into electrum, then handing some over to Margret. A safer option, sure, but still one that would garner some curiosity given Theo seldom received many tips. In the end, he’d submitted to the idea of just breaking the mark down and treating him and Jane somehow.

  While recounting his tale, Jane listened like a person bracing for some terrible news. It was no secret she condemned Theo’s attempts to join Pyro’s crime syndicate, especially since Theo had to have known that’s exactly what it was. He had no false pretences that it was in anyway some brotherhood or official guild. It was simply a means for him to make some real coin.

  Theo continued, insuring to include all the details he could recall including the magi’s woman who he remembered Pyro taking a great interest in.

  “Before I could recover, Leo turned up and pulled me away. He seemed to know Pyro by name too.”

  “Well,” Jane interrupted. “Leo grew up in Redbank, didn’t he. It’s not surprising he knows who this thug is. Especially if Pyro’s been part of a gang for a while, Leo knew all the crime syndicates when he was younger.”

  A sudden wind caught Jane’s hair, imbuing its scent to coalesce with the many flowers surrounding them before she continued, “I’m glad Leo came when he did. Sounds like Pyro wasn’t interested. Maybe his guild--if you can call it that--simply isn’t recruiting.”

  Theo knew a ‘no’ when he heard one. He should just give up and abandon his pursuit. He knew Jane did this out of compassion for him, but he still felt a brewing irritation at her constant dismissal.

  “Any idea how he got those scars?” Theo asked, as much to divert his own rage at her rather than generally being curious. He was, after all, doing this to save them both from a life at the Red Maiden. Jane shook her head placing another pomegranate seed on her tongue. The thin cobalt bracelet on her wrist matched the clear blue sky above.

  “Probably from trying to burn down some warehouse on the docks.” She guessed, “It still makes me wonder why he was so interested in the Magi’s mistress though?”

  Theo thought he knew exactly why Pyro had taken an interest in the red woman but decided to keep it to himself. It didn’t interest Theo and, if anything, a part of him silently cursed the red woman for distracting Pyro in the first place. Maybe if he had captured Pyro’s full attention, maybe if Leo hadn’t shown up when he did, he would instead be discussing with Jane how he’s meeting up with Pyro for his initiation into the Guild this very day. Theo began to recount the part with the Imperial spy while the birds above tweeted their morning songs.

  “After Leo escorted me back to the bar, I met this interesting man.”

  Jane paused her eating, recognizing the ominous undertone on his words. Her round doe-like eyes watched him unblinking. Theo took a wide look around and then reached deeply into his pocket. His hand returned with the perfectly minted golden coin. Light reflected off its surfaces giving him the visual illusion that he’d just revealed a piece of radiance. Jane’s eyes widened when she saw not only the coins purity, but the Emperor’s head stamped vividly on one side.

  “Theo, where did you get that!?” She asked, taking her own cautionary glance around the gardens. Luckily, the vibrant rose bushes did well to conceal them.

  “Is that an Imperial Mark?” she whispered to which Theo nodded.

  “I hid it in the cellar last night in case Margret searched me after closing. It is a good job too because she did end up searching me. Probably insuring I hadn’t pocketed any tips for myself.”

  Theo recalled when he awoke this morning, half expecting to find the coin gone as he descended the steps into the cellar. But beneath the barrel of mead where he placed it, it remained untouched and as valuable as ever. He had felt like one of the many pseudodragons that flew around the city of Leeside, collecting small treasures and lost trinkets to horde within their nests. Theo heard some street urchins made a living recovering the small valuables from Pseudodragon’s nests. They reminded him of miniature knights stealing from equally miniature dragon hordes.

  “That guy handed it me. At first, I thought it was for his drink. Then he said it was for my ‘collaboration’” Theo said. Deep down, the half-elf harboured a sort of longing for the spy for he was part of the bigger world and could help them from their bondage.

  “But what does he mean by ‘collaboration’?” Jane snapped harshly causing Theo to consider why he bothered telling Jane if she was just going to worry all the time. He shrugged his shoulders absently, hoping to avoid any further questioning now she clearly didn’t share his enthusiasm.

  As if drawn to their whispering, Matilda appeared from under the same stone archway Theo had jumped onto yesterday and entered their small grove, swiftly cutting their conversation off and causing Theo to tighten his grip around the coin. He had only just noticed how close he and Jane were leaned in on one another. At the sight of Matilda Theo straightened his back, surprised he hadn’t heard her approach. Had she been eavesdropping? He trusted Matilda, but you never knew who whispered in Margret’s ears when you weren’t careful.

  “What are you two lovebirds talking about?” Matilda said. A comment so frequent that it rolled off the two of them like water across polished steel. The girl’s copper hair was tied up into a long ponytail revealing a palette face of pale skin. That is, except for the sunburn streak below her eyes like tribal warpaint. Anxiously, a small infant boy crept around the archway in Matilda’s shadow.

  “Micah!” Jane shouted, momentarily ignoring Matilda’s comment and kneeling to embrace the new arrival. The boy was child to Mirella, the dark eyed beauty that worked the floor last night. Micah waddled forward as best as infants do, his vibrant curls--inherited from his mother--bounced with every stride.

  “Thought I’d take Micah for a stroll around the gardens,” Matilda said, “seen as his mother is still sleeping. Mirella had a pair of her special clients last night.”

  Micah played with Jane’s hair while blissfully unaware of the conversation around him when a thought struck Theo. How long had it been since he was the one treated with such care? Was he himself not ‘looked after’ in a similar way by his mother’s friends just over a decade ago? In Micah he saw his own past. Generation by generation, the Red Maiden produced and distributed its workforce accordingly. A cycle Theo hoped to escape.

  “Did you hear the news last night?” Asked Matilda, looking half concerned, half excited. Theo returned from his inner thoughts and looked at Jane who appeared confused by the question. They had seldom seen anyone this morning to get news. Both shook their heads.

  “Roland found a dead guy in the alley last night.” She whispered, consciously aware of Micah on Jane’s lap, who was currently renditioning infant garble speak. Leaning in, she continued, “Torn to pieces…”

  Jane instinctively pulled Micah close, placing her hands over the boy's ears while glaring displeasure at Matilda for even mentioning such things before him.

  “Which alley?” Theo probed. Matilda removed her sandals and sat down beside them on a patch of grass.

  “Just the one over there,” she said pointing northward, “the one that connects us to the markets.”

  Theo felt his stomach drop. He walked through that alley almost daily whenever he was out on errands. It really wasn’t so much of an alley as it was a simple, if narrow, street connecting Redbank to Greenside. Although crime was a frequent part of everyday life in Leeside, murders weren’t. Especially after Leeside became a vassal state to the Empire which then instituted its laws decreeing murder to require a public execution by hanging along with the rigorous employment of hedge wizard investigators. The fact this murder happened so close to the Red Maiden was most disturbing.

  “Roland informed a passer-by to get the guards and apparently the body looked so messed up, it looked like an animal attack.” Matilda said.

  Jane passed the open pomegranate fruit to Micah, who plunged his hand into its core to scoop out its seeds. Before long, his fingers and chin were coated in a sticky crimson juice.

  “Any idea who it was?” Asked Theo.

  “It was some man, apparently.” Matilda answered, closing her eyes to the sun. “At first, Roland said he didn’t want to get close. In case the man was sick with anything: Goblin Rot, Leaf’s Bane, that sort of thing.” She paused for a breath. “Well, when the Duchess’ men showed up. They found instead that the man was carrying a large fortune!”

  Jane and Theo both looked up in unison.

  Matilda leaned into them as if to reveal the biggest secret of all, “And that fortune? Well, Roland said the guards found a sizable pouch of Imperial Marks on him, no less!”

  Theo felt a hideous fire form in his belly before catching an equally grim look on Jane’s face. The golden coin that was safely hidden away in his pocket seemed to grow heavier as if from grief at hearing its owner’s fate. He tried to convince himself this wasn’t the same man that had handed him the mark at the bar but a part of him knew. Theo felt inclined to investigate further, if not for his sake, then for Jane’s whose face had turned a similar colour to the pomegranate being devoured on her lap.

  “This man.” Theo asked Matilda, who dabbed her fingers across the sunburned streak on her face “Any idea what he looked like?”

  Matilda considered; her line of thought distracted by the painful sunburn.

  “Roland couldn’t make out any features at first,” she said vaguely, “but once the guards showed up and moved the man, Roland recognised a little of the man’s features and told the guards he thought the man might have visited the Red Maiden at some point.”

  This had to be the same man, be it intuition, or the accumulating evidence. In this moment he wanted nothing more than to cast the coin in his pocket away, down a well or in the ocean. To separate himself from this spy as quickly as possible. Whomever…or whatever killed this man might have seen him talking to Theo last night and if that was so, he might well be next to suffer the same fate. Theo jumped when Jane squeezed his hand.

  “Are you two alright?” Asked Matilda, “I mean, I know it’s scary, but you look terrified! I’m sure whoever did this isn’t interested in anyone working here at the Red Maiden.” She said in an attempt to comfort them.

  “Just shut up.” Jane snapped. “It’s just not the sort of thing we should be talking about around Micah.”

  Matilda looked stunned then stood, affronted. She grabbed her sandals and stormed off, leaving Micah behind. Not even taking the time to put the footwear on.

  “Wish I never bothered telling you both.” She murmured as she left.

  When she was out of earshot, Jane turned to Theo anxiously.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Get rid of it!” She ordered, “Whatever that guy was mixed up in is dangerous.”

  Theo held up his arms in surrender and opened his mouth to speak; whether to try and calm Jane, disagree with her, or simply exhale, he didn’t know. Jane cut him off before he could utter a word.

  “No Theo! Just get rid of it.”

  She rose, clutching Micah under one arm and left the grove. Theo remained alone. The desire to toss the coin away suddenly seemed unbearable. Its connection to the dead man didn’t change the fact it was worth over one hundred chips, however. Better to trade it away on goods. Just as he was about to rise, a voice startled him.

  “Theodor.” It said shrilly. Theo turned to see non-other than Margret standing under the archway, her sickly sallow face and sagging eyes staring at him. Margret didn’t say anything for some time but simply waited as if expecting him to address her in some way.

  “You require me, Matron?” He asked as calmly as he could muster.

  “Yes. I need you to head out into the market to pick up an elixir.”

  She held out a small piece of folded parchment, ‘Simmons’ is expecting you and I require the elixir before this evening, so do hurry.”

  Theo took the note and placed it in the same pocket as the imperial mark. Fear struck him when the tips of his fingers touched the coin. The prospect of Margret telling him to turn out his pockets for some vague, unknown reason struck him. Instead, Margret eyed him suspiciously as she always did, then turned and left, leaving Theo alone in the garden.

  When she was gone, he unfolded the parchment Margret had handed him and read:

  Timothy Simmons

  Greenside Apothecary

  He didn’t know the place exactly but knew where to start. Without allowing anymore thoughts of the dead man to fill his mind, Theo passed through the main floor of the Red Maiden and out into the city streets of Leeside.

  The songs which seagulls sang mingled with the constant ruckus of sailors and fishermen. Citizens flowed past like water flowing down a stream, for Leeside was alive with activity. Guards patrolled in groups of three or four, their steel halberds standing tall enough to catch the light. Green was the Duchess’ colours, and the guards wore it proudly. Vassals of the Emperor they may be, but Leeside still ruled itself. Its thriving docks still known as the beating heart of trade across the entire western seas.

  Theo went the longways around, avoiding the alley where the dead man was found, fearing there might be some morbid residue left behind. When he reached the bustling markets, the Pseudodragons could be seen flying dimly above in their search for valuables to obtain. Theo leapt into a side street to avoid the mass of people that filtered past. A litter of sleeping bodies lined the alley, all trying to stay cool in its narrow shade. The heavy odour of sweat, urine, and worse permeated from the place, and he noticed a manhole which one resident was sitting on. Standing on tiptoe, he peered out over the sea of people until he caught sight of the apothecary.

  Inside the dingy shop protected by sunken glass windows Theo found himself first surprised by how small the place was. He doubted if any more than four, maybe five people could fit inside at the same time. Shelves of dark wood held up vials and bottles of all different colours, giving the impression of some liquid-sweet shop. Many of the potions wore heavy jackets of dust and an odour of brimstone. Combine that with the scent of burning wood which hung on the air like mist and the shop smelled as old as it looked. Behind the counter, which stood tall enough to come up to Theo’s chest, was an old, bent man. He peered up from what Theo guessed to be a book hidden beneath the counter and addressed him.

  “Good morning young sir,” He croaked with a voice dry as tinder, “How may one help you today?” His lower jaw extended out giving him the constant appearance he was grumpy. Theo walked up to the counter, taking in all the potions on display.

  “Good morning. Margret Holloway sent me to pick up an order?”

  “AH! Yes of course.” The man said, nodding as he swapped his spectacles over to much larger, thicker ones. “Margret did mention she’d be sending someone over. Now then, where is my…GIRL! Where are you?” He shouted over his shoulder prompting Theo to cover his sensitive ears.

  As if already anticipating his call, a young woman quickly appeared behind the counter, her black hair trailing behind her like liquid pitch.

  “Ah, there you are.” The teller continued, “Please entertain our guest for me while I recover a pre-order and DON’T touch anything while I’m gone.”

  The man climbed down from his stool feebly, using the poor girl’s shoulder as an aid. When the man reached the floor, Theo could barely see him over the counter. The girl remained with an expression of ultimate boredom. The girl looked to be reaching her twenties and Theo found her pleasing to look upon, especially her eyes which glowed like bright amethyst and stood in contrast against pallid skin. Silence stretched out between them for some time after the teller had departed until Theo noticed on the girl’s magenta robes; along the hem of the sleeve, were the letters ‘T.O’ roughly stitched.

  “You’re from the Torrent Orphanage?” He asked after noticing its embroidery. After his mother had died, Margret had considered sending him to the very same orphanage until she discovered she could hold him hostage under his mother’s debt.

  The girl looked up; eyes filled with ambiguous pools of vivid purple.

  “I was close to being sent to one.” Theo quickly explained.

  “Consider yourself lucky.” The girl answered rather coldly. Theo narrowed his brow.

  “Do they not treat you well in the Orphanage then?” He asked. The girl shrugged.

  “Not if you don’t mind being tossed around as slave labour. Then again, I hear its worse for you boys. They often get recruited into a legion where they die in imperial wars. We girls are simply pawned off to any establishment that will have us.”

  “They make you work for free?” Theo asked.

  “They call them apprenticeships but it’s really just cheap labour. Turns out you can make a profit from this practise. Enough to run a whole orphanage, in fact.” The girl explained. She had had this conversation before it seemed given the sting in her voice, “What happened to you anyway? What saved you from Torrent’s?”

  “I found work at a—tavern.” Theo hesitated. He would not let anyone know—especially this girl—that he worked at a whorehouse.

  “There we are!” Returned the teller, “Now listen closely to the instructions I’m about to give you.” He added. Theo listened but kept his eyes on the girl who yawned passively behind the tellers back.

  “Two drops in tempered water, not wine, every morning. Then one drop at night before rest. Prolong this dose for as long as you require the desired effect. Okay?”

  Theo nodded, pocketing the small potion.

  “Thank you.”

  “No, no, thank you. And please give my best to Margret.” The teller asked.

  Theo certainly would not but nodded all the same and left.

  On his return he investigated the elixir, amazed by how cold it felt despite the heat of the day. The vial was small, small enough to conceal between the palm of your hand and filled with some black substance. There was no label say for the one that read: Margret. D. Holloway, in fine italic ink. What the elixir did was of little interest to Theo; possibly another cheap ploy to get him away from Jane.

  By early evening Theo was returning to the Red Maiden, deciding to take a detour along the western docks. The sound of crushing ocean waves grew louder and were disturbed only by the winged bards and ship bells which played out irregularly around the docks. Standing outside the doors of the Maiden was Roland, his snow-white beard a stark contrast to his tanned skin. Judging by the sabre on his hip, Theo guessed he was working protection again tonight. Two lean arms were folded across a leather jerkin, their muscular definition foretold their experience with hard labour.

  “If it isn’t young Theodor Redwood,” Roland said upon his approach. His accent—much like his wiry arms—held many of the same characteristics from when he sailed upon the open sea. “Margret got you out on her business again?” He laughed.

  Theo held up the small vial as evidence before cocking a leg against the milky white wall next to the mature sailor. Roland was one of the old-timers that worked here from as far back as Theo could remember, back when his beard held more pepper.

  “I suppose it’s a win-win from Margret’s perspective.” Theo admitted, “It keeps me away from Jane and saves Margret a trip to the apothecary. Speaking of which, any idea what this might be?” He tossed the vial to Roland who swiftly investigated it with weary eyes—his brow lowering as he gazed into its black contents. Eventually, he gave up.

  “Could be a vial of ink for all I know. Never felt the need for any of them fancy remedies anyway. Nothing the—”

  “--Salty air and a sea breeze can’t remedy?” Theo interjected. Roland looked at him crossly.

  “Don’t you be getting clever with me, young Mr. Redwood.” He answered holding up a shortened finger.

  Roland was full of scars and deformities, all of which were from his time as a sailor. In his youth he worked under the Leeside Merchant Cove; back when there was one, and it shaped Roland into the man he was today. Despite him not being aboard a ship for almost two decades, Roland still looked like a sailor, spoke like a sailor, and for all intent and purposes, acted like one. Why he remained at the Red Maiden all these years was a mystery. All Theo knew for certain was that at some point his ship had been caught in a storm and most of his crew had perished. Since then, Roland had never stepped foot on a ship again.

  On Roland’s vest, dangling from a silver chain, was the ten-pointed Aquastar. A sea God common among sailors and fisherfolk, the Aquastar was by far the most scrutinised God among theologians. Shipwrecked sailors claimed with unwavering certainty they were guided by the Aquastar at one time or another. It was the clairvoyance leading men into safe harbours and away from turbulent storms, it was the lighthouse among the heavens. Theo knew some scholars got to calling it the ‘Phantom Star,’ as the star appeared nowhere among the consolation when described by its believers.

  “I heard you found a body last night?” Asked Theo, attracting a curious look from Roland who seemed amused.

  “I see Margret’s attempts to keep this quiet have been in vain. Well, I wouldn’t go repeating it around her. She’s got everyone under an act of secrecy, me especially.” Roland said.

  Theo suddenly admired just how shameless Matilda was in spilling the news this morning. Clearly her contempt for Margret hadn’t waned since childhood. He did wonder who told her though? Roland was never the type to disobey Margret’s orders.

  “It’s bad for business when a man is murdered just outside your establishment.” Roland added, “Especially if those pompous, aristocratic dingbats that stink up the place hear about it.”

  “Any idea who did it?” Theo inquired naively. Any information, however trivial might put his fears to rest.

  “I do. Better yet, I know what did it.” Said Roland with an air of absolute confidence that startled Theo. “That man was murdered not for coin, but for blood. Drained to a husk he was. There’s only one creature that could do such a thing.”

  Drained to a husk? Theo thought. It seemed Matilda left out some additional details only Roland knew about. Theo’s unsolicited and sudden notion that Pyro might have had something to do with the man’s death; seen as he was a well-known criminal and at the Maiden last night, now felt unwarranted. He certainly didn’t look capable of draining anyone’s blood.

  On the other hand, the spy had looked at the Magus strangely as if they knew each other. Did Magi have the power to drain men into husk? Probably.

  “Let me guess…” Theo said instead, knowing what Roland wanted to believe did this, “The fabled Striga of Leeside?”

  Roland looked at him aghast, even going so far as to shake his head in frustration.

  “You should cast aside that arrogance, Redwood. When I was a young man, that ‘fabled Striga’ was not taken half so lightly, and most of the city guard were out and about searching for it. Wasn’t a man nor woman in Leeside that roamed the city at night without an escort.”

  “They searched and searched,” Theo answered impatiently, “and nothing was ever found. You’d think a Striga of all things would be easy to find if it existed.”

  Roland raised his shortened finger to attention.

  “Never being found and never existing are two completely different things, Mr Redwood.” He objected, “I’ve never found the tip on my finger here, but I know it exists. Be it at the bottom of the ocean or in the belly of a fish. Besides, if the monster was to hide anywhere it would be the sewers.”

  “But they searched the sewers. There was no Striga, and no Striga can survive the light of day. It was a myth. Probably made-up by some backstreet murderer in the hopes the cover his tracks.” Theo argued.

  “What is all this nonsense?” Said a voice laden with condescension. Roland and Theo turned to see a broomstick of a man preparing to smoke his broomstick of a pipe. He was standing outside the Red Maiden, seemingly to not bother others inside when he happened upon the conversation. To presume he was one of Margret’s aristocrats seemed safe.

  “Is this the common discourse between you lot?” The noblemen said, placing his clean pipe in one corner of his mouth. “Eccentric rabble about Striga’s?”

  The man lit the wad of tolkleaf in his pipe, taking one brief drag before smirking manically.

  “Ahhhh yes.” He said with a nod, spotting the pendant around Roland’s neck, “Who else but a believer of the Phantom Star would contemplate such nonsense.”

  Roland looked ready to lunge at the man and would have too if not for the fact that this man was obviously one of Margret's special clients."

  “I beg your pardon my Lord, but wasn’t our late Emperor a keen follower of the Aquastar?” Roland said cunningly. The nobleman plucked the pipe from his lips, looking sinister.

  “He was.” He admitted, “Answer me this though. When did he become a faithful follower of the Aquastar? Was it before, or after, he contracted Goblin Rot?”

  The silence that followed became the resolution. Goblin Rot was a well-known decease that deteriorated the minds of those inflicted, often causing lucid hallucinations.

  “Then I digress.” The nobleman finished, turning his back on them as if the debate was decided.

  “The Aquastar reveals itself only to those lost and in need!” Roland retorted with one final affirming note.

  “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” The nobleman chuckled.

  Before Roland could make sense of the nobleman’s remark, the man had re-entered the Red Maiden. When he was gone, Roland turned to Theo, his fist clenched, and his teeth tightened into a snarl.

  “I’d give all the electrum in Leeside to be alone in a room with that arrogant bastard. To insult a man’s God so openly, it’s enough to make my blood boil.”

  Theo forced a smile and slapped a hand on Roland’s rounded shoulder before entering the whorehouse. Despite not following any Gods personally, he had a much fonder respect for the Lesser Gods that the common folk worshipped. Unlike the Gods of life, death, and soul, Theo found the Gods of the earth, sky, and sea simply more appealing.

  Inside, Theo passed Mirella, who looked both tired and upset. She had been crying, he observed. She clutched longingly at her chest as if searching for something missing inside her.

  “What’s wrong?” He asked.

  “Oh, Theo.” She said spinning in startlement. Her eyes were red from active use and lack of rest, “It’s nothing, I just—I lost my necklace last night.”

  Thoughts of theft, then misplacement flashed in Theo’s mind at first, until Mirella added, “I hate all these Pseudodragons around this city! The Duchess should hire hunters to deal with the vermin.”

  “Pseudodragons? You didn’t leave it in the gardens, did you?” Asked Theo, knowing full well a necklace wouldn’t last long unattended there.

  “I left the window open last night…or at least I must have.” Mirella explained, her grief turning to anger, “Saw it fly out with my mother’s necklace just as I woke. I could have sworn I closed that window before I slept.” She sat on an empty stool at the bar, fingering the fabric on her dress which flowed beautifully across an olive thigh,

  It was then that Theo remembered what Matilda had said in the gardens.

  “Matilda mentioned you had some special clients last night. Perhaps one of them opened the window while you slept?” Theo said, hoping she would reveal more.

  Mirella shivered at the mention, and Theo could visibly see gooseflesh erupt across her forearms like the attack of some sudden plague.

  “Yes, it must have been one of them. I entertained this gentleman and his wife…or at least I’m assuming it’s his wife.” Said Mirella, “The man was alright as men go, but the woman…her hair blazed like liquid fire and almost felt to burn like it too. I know that sounds impossible but…” She trailed off.

  Theo listened patiently, watching as Mirella’s expression shifted from disgust then to terror. Her eyes seemed to stare out at something distant while the rest of her face remembered.

  “The man…” Theo asked quietly, “Did his eyes glow blue? Even briefly during that night?”

  “Yes.” Came the hollow whisper before her eyes met his. “But Theo? How did you know?”