Birth of a Killer

Chapter Fifteen

The next few years of Larten Crepsley’s life were his wildest and most carefree. Larten flitted to get away swiftly from all that he had come to loathe, even though vampires were not supposed to flit on the path to or from the mountain. The rebellious act was his way of showing how little he cared for the rules ofthe clan. He knew it was a petty gesture, but that didn’t stop him.

He cut through the world at a frenetic pace, traveling freely, spending much of his time on boats, carriages, even trains. It was his first time trying one ofthe iron horses. The rocking motion made him feel sick to begin with, but he adjusted to it after a while, even though he never wavered from his opinion that it went far faster than any land vehicle had a need to.

For years he avoided contact with other vampires, moving from one town and city to another, mixing mostly with men of lax principles and ladies of easy virtue, since they were the ones who came out at night. He stole vast amounts of money and spent it lavishly. He gambled heavily, backed many foolish, high-risk ventures for sport, and at one stage ran his own stable of boxers and fighting cockerels.

Larten tried things he’d avoided even as a Cub, thi ngs no sane person should try. He treated his body with disrespect, interested only in how far he could push it. There were many nights when he couldn’t rise, only lie in a dark room, shaking like a rabid rat, waiting for death to put him out of his misery.

If he had been a lesser vampire, he would have surely died. But his years of harsh lessons had toughened him. He could take more punishment than most, go further, last longer. No matter how many mad nights he subjected himself to, he always struggled back.

In time he calmed down and put the worst of the craziness behind him. He had tasted almost all the dark pleasures of the human world and was bored of them. He made no friends in those seedy years, but many cronies flocked to his side, men and women all too eager to spend the money he never seemed to run out of, to go on wild sprees with him and try to match his wild appetites. They praised Larten and spoke of their love and respect for him, but he knew they were lost, base creatures, wringing what profit they could from one in an even worse state than themselves.

One night he simply walked out on the hangers-on, the same way he had walked out on the clan. They were much easier to leave behind than Seba or Wester. These people didn’t truly care for him, only for the wicked pleasures he brought into their lives. They were vermin and vultures. He didn’t think he was any better than them, but he hoped that he could be. Out of pity, he threw what cash he had at them and left while they squabbled over it.

He tried running with the Cubs again. There was a gaping hole in his life that needed to be filled. He craved company and excitement. He didn’t want to wake every evening by himself, bored, lonely, desperate to kill time. He yearned to find a purpose and he thought the Cubs might give him that, at least for a time.

But going back to the war packs was a mistake. All of the vampires he’d known had moved on or died. Their replacements welcomed Larten into the fold, but he felt awkward around them. He couldn’t work up the same enthusiasm for drink, war, women and gambling. He found the young Cubs loud, ignorant and dull. He didn’t like to believe he’d ever been so shallow, but was sure he must have been.

He fed with war packs a couple of times, then no more. Bidding the Cubs a not-so-fond farewell, he wandered again, keeping to himself, avoiding the larger towns and crowds. He spent many lonely nights in graveyards or caves, brooding, feeling as if he would neverfind his place in the world.

Returning to the Cirque Du Freak, he asked Mr. Tall if he could help out as he had before. Hibernius Tall wasn’t one to turn away an old friend, but Larten soon realized this wasn’t the life for him, certainly not in his current state. He loved the circus and would have been happy at another time to settle down there. But he was restless, so he moved on with no more idea of what he wanted than he had when he left Vampire Mountain.

Afew years after that, Larten was hunting deer. He had been tracking a herd for hours. He could have moved in for the kill sooner, but he was in no rush. His clothes were filthy rags. He’d grown a beard — a light brown color, which must have been the original shade of his hair — and his nails were long and ragged. There were bloodstains around his mouth from previous feasts, and dried-in smears across his cheeks.

“Charna’s guts! You look even rougher than me,” someone laughed behind him, startling the vampire. He twirled so fast that he lost his balance and fell. As he landed on his backside, his gaze settled on a grinning Vancha March.

‘What are you doing here?” Larten barked.

“Just happened to be passing,” Vancha sniffed. “I caught your smell — couldn’t really miss it — and thought I’d come see what you were up to.”

Vancha spent the next couple of nights roaming with Larten, letting him tell his sorry story. The General made no comment, just listened quietly. When Larten finally ran out of words to express his miserable state, Vancha said that the younger vampire could travel with him if he wished.

“I’m going through a bit of an aimless period myself,” he said. “I went on a quest to find the palace of Perta Vin-Grahl a few years ago.” Vin-Grahl had led a group of vampires off into a frozen wilderness to die not long after the war with the vampaneze.

According to legends, they’d built a castle of ice and turned it into a mass burial tomb. Many vampires had searched for the last resting place of the doomed group overthe centuries.

“Any luck?” Larten asked.

“No,” Vancha sighed. “I really thought I’d find it, but all I got in the end was frostbite. Almost lost a few toes. I’ve been too ashamed to report back to the clan. I can’t avoid them indefinitely, but I’d like to wait a bit longer before subjecting myself to their laughter. Paris will be especially tickled — he bet me my favorite shuriken that I wouldn’t find the palace.”

The pairwandered purposelessly but pleasantly for the next year. They hunted and told each other stories. They regularly sparred to pass the time and Larten unwittinglyfound himself completing many of the tasks he would have had to pass to become a General. Vancha would always swear over the decades to come that he hadn’t meant to play the part of a mentor, but Larten had his doubts. Like Seba, Vancha could be a sly operator when slyness was called for.

Most nights they slept beneath a tree or a bush. Vancha didn’t believe in creature comforts like coffins. He was never happier than when sleeping on a cold, rocky floor, covered in nothing more than his purple animal hides. Larten didn’t enjoy such lean living, but he got used to it. In any case, it was better to sleep rough with a friend than in the lap of luxury by himself.

One night, while resting, Vancha decided to show off his spitting prowess. He spat high into the air, kept his mouth open and caught the spit as it dropped back down. Gulping, he chortled and said, “I bet you can’t do that.”

‘Why in the name of all the gods would I want to?” Larten muttered.

“It’s a talent,” Vancha said.

“So is picking your nose with your tongue.”

“Can you?” Vancha asked eagerly.

“I have never tried and I do not intend to,” Larten said.

Vancha stuck out his tongue and explored, but although he could touch the tip of his nose if he pushed it down with a finger, his tongue wouldn’t reach as far as his nostril of its own accord. In the end he grunted and settled for spitting high and catching it again.

“Come on,” he urged Larten. “Try it. It’s fun.”

“I have no intention of spitting on myself,” Larten said stiffly, smothering a smile. “Now leave me alone or you will be swallowing one of your shurikens instead of a gobful of spit.”

“Leave my shurikens alone,” Vancha growled, caressing the throwing stars that were attached to belts looped around his body. Vancha preferred to fight with his hands — he believed weapons were a sign of weakness — but the shurikens were an exception. “Some of these are hundreds of years old. They’re historical.”

Larten frowned. “I thought you made them yourself.”

“Most of them, aye. But I’ve got a few from the Edo period, even one that I think goes back to the Kamakuras.”

‘What are you talking about?” Larten asked.

“The great Japanese dynasties. Don’t you know anything of history?”

“Not a lot,” Larten said. “I spent the last thirty or so years trying to memorize all of the vampire milestones. I had no time to research human history too.”

‘You should have made time,” Vancha tutted. “Only a fool forgets where he comes from. I don’t have much to do with the human world, but we all started off there and we can learn much about ourselves by studying the highs and lows of mankind overthe centuries.”

“Then tell me, good master,” Larten simpered. Although he was being sarcastic, Vancha took the request seriously. For the next few nights Larten was treated to a full rundown of the Japanese dynasties from the Asuka up to the Edo, with special emphasis on the weapons each favored, particularly those ofthe small, pointed, throwing kind. By the end of his lessons, he almost wished he had followed through on his threat and rammed a shuriken down Vancha’s throat. The shabby, smelly General was a fine friend but a truly boring historian!

Chapter Sixteen

Eventually Vancha had to resume his duties. As a General he had to sit in on various meetings, keep an eye on the Cubs, monitor the movements of the vampaneze, investigate rogue vampires. He invited Larten to join him on a few assignments. Since he had nothing better to do, Larten accepted.

Having checked on a few ofthe rowdier Cubs and admonished them — even the tearaway youngsters were expected to obey certain rules — Vancha and Larten set off in pursuit of a vampire called Arrow who had severed contact with the clan. The Princes wanted to know why he had cut himself off.

Vancha found their target by a process known as triangulation. Like almost every vampire, Arrow had placed his hands on the Stone of Blood in Vampire Mountain when he’d pledged himself to the clan, allowing it to draw blood from him. One ofthe Princes in the mountain checked with the magical Stone and located Arrow’s position. The Prince then communicated telepathically with Vancha and directed him.

Vancha followed his directions until they came to a house in a forest. They arrived late at night and made camp without approaching the house. After a short sleep, they lurked behind a couple of trees and kept watch throughout the day. They saw a red-haired woman at work within and around the house overthe course ofthe day, but there was no sign of Arrow.

He appeared as the sun was setting. He came out, squinted at the sky, kissed the woman, then went to get water as she slipped inside the house. Arrow was a large, bald, thickly built man. There were tattoos of arrows on both sides of his head and down his forearms. He didn’t look like someone who would walk away the worse for wear from most fights. His scowl as he drew a bucket of water from a well to the side of the house did nothing to soften his tough impression.

Arrow set the full bucket on the ground beside the well, then growled without looking up. “Come forward if you’re coming. I don’t like peeping Thomases.”

“Apologies,” Vancha said airily, stepping out into sight. “I wasn’t sure what the state of play was. Didn’t want to barge in and create any difficulties.”

Arrow nodded gruffly at Vancha, ran a cold eye over Larten, then sniffed. “Sarah will have dinner ready soon. You’re welcome to share it with us.”

Larten and Vancha exchanged a glance, then moved forward. Vancha looked relaxed, but Larten noted the way his fingers stayed by his shurikens. He made sure his knives were within easy reach and kept close to Vancha, ready to back him up if they were attacked.

The woman inside the house — Sarah — looked up with surprise when Arrow stomped in and said, “We have visitors.” She started to smile curiously when the odd pair entered. Then Arrow said, “They’re vampires.” Her smile vanished in an instant and she set the table in silence.

Arrow laid the bucket close to the fire, kissed Sarah again, then sat and nodded for Vancha and Larten to join him. “Sarah’s my wife,” he said quietly, his hands clenched into fists. ‘Where does the clan stand on such issues these nights?”

‘You married a human?” Vancha frowned.

“I married a beautiful, loving woman,” Arrow corrected him. Larten saw a smile dart across Sarah’s lips as she half-turned to look at her husband. “Now answer my question.”

Vancha scratched an armpit. ‘You weren’t this grumpy before. The soft life doesn’t agree with you.”

“It agreed with me nicely until you and your assistant turned up,” Arrow said.

“Larten’s not my assistant, just a friend.” “No matter. I’ve asked twice already, Vancha. Don’t make me

“The Generals aren’t interested,” Vancha said. “We don’t approve of vampires mating with humans, but it’s been a long time since we banned such unions, so why are you worried?”

“Times change,” Arrow noted. “I wasn’t sure what the current mood was. When you turned up, after I’d asked to be leftalone, Ithought-”

“Slow down,” Vancha interrupted. “Who did you ask? You dropped out of sight without a word to anyone. That’s why I came.”

Arrow frowned. “I told Azis Bendetta of my decision when I chose to abandon my studies and not become a General.”

Vancha sighed. “Azis is dead.”

“When?”

“Four years or more.”

“Even in death may he be triumphant,” Arrow muttered, making the death’s touch sign. He looked sad as he lowered his hand, but relieved too. “He must have died before he delivered my message.”

“Aye.” Vancha was smiling now.

“So I’m not in any trouble?”

"No.”

Arrow shook his head and chuckled, then boomed, “Sarah! Ale and warm milk for our guests.”

“I’ll take mine cold, thanks,” Vancha laughed, then leaned forward and clapped Arrow’s shoulder. When Larten saw that, he relaxed and smiled at Sarah as she passed him a mug of ale. When no one was looking, he shifted his knives around to the side. This wasn’t to be a night for fighting after all.

Arrow’s story was short and simple. He had met

Sarah and fallen in love. He’d told her the truth about himself early in their relationship, that he was a barren, bloodsucking night creature who would live for hundreds of years.

“His sterility was the hardest thing to accept,” Sarah said. She had a soft voice and a shy smile. “I wasn’t worried about the vampire part — I could tell he wasn’t evil — and I’m glad he’ll live so long. But not being able to have children…”

‘We’ll probably take in some orphans one day,” Arrow said, rubbing a finger down Sarah’s arm. “But at the moment we’re still enjoying being a couple. The novelty hasn’t worn off yet. We’ll start a family in a few years, aye?”

“Aye,” Sarah giggled.

It wasn’t unheard of for a vampire to take a human mate, but usually only Cubs crossed that divide.

“Five years ago I’d have said you were crazy if you’d told me this would happen,” Arrow insisted. “I didn’t approve of those who mated outside the — ”

“Arrow…” Sarah said wamingly.

“Sorry. Those who married outside the clan.”

‘What’s wrong with mating?” Vancha asked.

“Animals mate,” Sarah said frostily. “Humans marry.”

“But we’re neither,” Vancha noted.

‘You’re more human than animal,” Sarah said. “At least Arrow and Larten are.” She cocked an eyebrow at the odd-looking, green-haired General and he hooted with delight. To Vancha, an insult from a beautiful woman counted as a twisted compliment.

“Anyway,” Arrow went on, “I was content as a vampire. I never meant to look for a human mate — wife,” he corrected himself quickly as Sarah narrowed her eyes. “But we met while I was recovering from a wound and…” He shruqqed.

"… you lived happily ever after,” Vancha finished with a smile. Then his smile faded. “Except you won’t, will you? Forgive me for speaking bluntly, Sarah, but human lives are short compared to ours. Do you plan to let Arrow blood you?”

“No,” Sarah said with conviction. “I love the sun too much to hide from it. I’d rather have a short life of days than centuries of nights.”

“So what happens when your heart gives out and Arrow has to stick you in a hole to rot?” Vancha asked.

“As diplomatic as ever,” Arrow said drily, sharing a sad look with his wife.

“That worries me,” Sarah whispered, grasping Arrow’s hand. “I almost didn’t marry him because I don’twantto leave him like that, but…”

“The future will bring what it brings,” Arrow grunted. “There are no guarantees in life. I might die before her, of disease or an accident. If I don’t, I will grieve as any husband grieves when his wife dies. Then… I’m not sure. If we have children, I’ll finish rearing them. If we have grandchildren, I might stay and watch them grow. If not, o r afte r that… who knows?”

“The clan will welcome you back if you choose to return,” Vancha said. “We won’t cut you off just because you fell in love. You can finish your training — you were only months away from your final test, and you know we all thought highly of you.”

“That’s kind of you, but I can’t see myself ever becoming a General now. Maybe that will change, but I doubt it. Perhaps, if I outlive her, I’ll just sit by Sarah’s grave, drink no blood and waitto join her.”

‘You’ll do no such thing!” Sarah barked. “If you do, and there’s a Paradise, I’ll make your life a misery for the rest of eternity.”

Arrow leaned forward and kissed her flushed

forehead. ‘Whatever you say, my dear,” he murmured.

They stayed up late, eating, drinking, chatting. Sarah went to bed a few hours before sunrise and then it was just the vampires. When they were alone, they spoke of the clan. Vancha told Arrow about Azis Bendetta’s death and brought him up to date with all the latest intrigues and happenings.

“The anti-vampaneze brigade is going strong,” he said at one point. “The fools are spoiling fora war. As if one wasn’t enoug h.”

“Do you really think it might come to that?” Arrow asked, alarmed.

“No,” Vancha said. “The Princes know that war would be catastrophic. One ortwo might be swayed if the situation was different, but as long as there are the likes of Paris and Chok Yamada to talk sense to them, the truce will hold.”

They slept in Arrow’s house that day — Vancha reluctantly made his bed on the soft (by his standards) wooden floor, not wanting to offend his host by sleeping outside — and ate with him and Sarah the following night. After their meal, Vancha wished the pairthe luck of the vampires, then he and Larten took their leave.

Larten was thoughtful as they slipped through the forest. He’d never considered returning to the human fold as Arrow had. Part of him liked the idea of finding a mate, marrying, adopting children. He’d thought that he had left that world behind forever, but now he saw that it could be his again if he truly wanted it.

“That’s a waste of a good vampire,” Vancha sighed, disturbing Larten’s train of thought. “Arrow was a greatfighter. He could have gone far.”

“But he is happy where he is,” Larten noted.

Vancha shrugged. “Since when did vampires care about happiness? A creature of the night feels satisfied when all is well with his world. That’s nature’s way. Happiness is a human folly. Vampires who seek it usually come to no good.”

“That is a cynical way of looking at life,” Larten said.

“I call it like I see it,” Vancha huffed. “If Arrow had taken a vampiress for a mate, that would be different. But marrying a human…” He shook his head, then chuckled. “Mind you, having cast my eye over the vampiresses at the last Council, I can’t blame him. They’re a grim lot, aren’t they? Fine fighters, but you wouldn’t want to kiss any of them!”

“I do not think that someone in your position can be too particular,” Larten said.

‘What are you talking about?” Vancha frowned. “I’d be a first-rate catch. No woman could go wrong with a specimen like me.” To prove his point, he spat into his palm and wiped phlegm into his scalp. “I mean, seriously, what lady of taste could resist a shiny green head of hair like mine?”

Chapter Seventeen

Soon after their meeting with Arrow, Vancha was summoned to Vampire Mountain on business. Larten chose not to travel with him. They made vague plans to meet up again, but their paths took them elsewhere and several years passed without any contact.

Larten spent those years falling back into the dark pit from which Vancha had briefly rescued him. His time with the General had refired his love for the clan, reminding him why he’d agreed to become Seba’s assistant in the first place. But he still didn’t want to return to Vampire Mountain and complete his training. Not yet. He had a sense that he wasn’t finished with the human world, that until he worked whatever was troubling him out of his system, he would never know peace.

One night as he glumly considered his options — trying to pick a country or city he hadn’t visited before

— he found himself thinking about Lady Evanna. He hadn’t thought of the witch in a long time. He’d meant to take advantage of her offer to visit her at home, but it had slipped his mind.

He knew instantly that this was what he craved. Something different, a place part of neither the human nor vampire world. He had no idea where Evanna lived, but he was sure he could find her. She’d given him that ability. All he had to do was set off and his feet would lead him.

It was a long trek. He had meant to use trains and carriages, but whenever he got on one he lost track of where he was going. Flitting disoriented him too. Evanna’s directions only revealed themselves when he was on foot, so he had to abandon the easy alternatives and walk. But the path wasn’t difficult and it was a pleasant time of year. He enjoyed the journey more than any he had undertaken recently.

Finally, months after setting out, he arrived at a small hill in a clearing. There was a cave near the base ofthe hill and a pond farther down. Larten didn’t see the mouth of the cave the first time he looked. If he hadn’t felt certain that this was the place, he would have walked by. But when he forced himself to peer harder, he saw the cave clearly and went towards it.

There were lots of frogs by the rim of the pond, croaking noisily. Some were oddly colored and a few had strange inklike markings on their heads and backs. Larten decided to investigate further and set out to catch one ofthe frogs.

“I wouldn’t do that,” someone said as he crept towards the pond. Larten looked up and spotted a girl no more than twelve or thirteen years old. She was carrying a bucket and staring at him seriously. “They’re poisonous.”

“Poisonous frogs?” Larten asked dubiously.

“Sacs along their tongues,” the girl said. “If they hit your skin, they’ll break and poison will seep in. Death within minutes, even if you’re a vampire.”

‘You know what I am?”

The girl nodded. “My Lady has been expecting you.” She pulled a face and shook the bucket. “That’s why I’m dragging this. Evanna said you’d want a hot bath when you arrived, so I’ve been fetching water for the last couple of hours.”

“My apologies,” Larten said. “I can carry that for you if you like.”

The girl smiled shyly. “That’s all right. I can manage.”

They chatted as they walked to the cave. The girl was called Malora. She couldn’t remember her surname — Evanna had taken her as an apprentice when she was five or six and much of her early life was a mystery.

“Did your parents let Evanna take you, or did they sell you to her?” Larten asked.

“They didn’t sell me,” Malora huffed. “I’m not a slave, even if my Lady treats me li ke one much of the time.”

Larten smiled. “I have heard such tales of woe before. Does Arra Sails still serve here?”

“Never heard of her,” Malora said. “Was she one of Evanna’s apprentices?”

“Aye. She did not like her mistress any more than you seem to.”

“Nobody does,” Malora snorted. “She had four other girls when I came. I’m the only one left, and I don’t think I’ll hang around much longer either. As soon as I find someone to escort me safely back to the normal world, I’m gone!”

Larten chuckled. The girl was young but feisty, like Arra had been. It was a pity she wasn’t older — maybe he would have had more success wooing her than he’d had with the fiery Miss Sails.

As they neared the cave, Evanna appeared. She looked exactly as she had the last time he’d seen her. She hadn’t changed or aged. Her hair was long and dirty, she still wore ropes, and her nails were cut in the same unusual fashion.

‘Welcome, wanderer.” She curtsied before Larten, then hugged him hard. She didn’t pick him off the ground, but she did pinch his cheek. “I thought you were never going to pay me a visit,” she chided him. “Come — the bath is ready.”

Larten frowned. “What makes you think I am desperate to have a bath?”

“It’s not for you, fool,” she snorted. “Don’t you remember what you said when we last parted?” He stared at her blankly. “You promised to scrub my back,” she reminded him, and as he recalled that brash boast, his face dropped and his cheeks turned several shades redder than they had when she’d pinched him.

Larten spent the next few nights with the Lady of the Wilds, Malora always in close attendance, although the apprentice didn’t say much, so he often forgot she was there. The vampire and witch sparred — she enjoyed testing herself in battle against him, although he was sure she could have flattened him with a flick of a wrist if she’d wished — and she treated him to a variety of vegetarian dishes. He had been skeptical of the food at first, but Evanna had surprised him with a variety of extraordinary concoctions. It wasn’t enough to sway Larten away from meat, even though she kept urging him to put his carnivorous side behind him, but he wouldn’t turn up his nose at vegetables and fruit again.

Evanna had some news of Seba and Wester, which she shared. It was all minor — reports of changes Seba had made in his role as quartermaster, news that Wester was close to becoming a guard — but Larten lapped up the tidbits.

In return Larten told Evanna of his indecision. It was good to get the doubts and regrets off his chest, to admit how sorry he felt about the way he’d spoken to Seba, bemoan the years he had wasted and wonder aloud at what the future held. He asked her for advice, but she was reluctant to give any.

‘When it comes to the future, I have to be careful,” she said. “I have the gift of foresight — I see things that have not yet happened — so I can’t interfere.”

“Have you seen my future?” Larten asked eagerly.

“Parts of it,” she said cagily. “I try not to learn too much about the destinies of those I like. It’s not nice knowing how much time a friend has left, the hardships they’ll face, the pain they’ll suffer.”

‘You see hardship and suffering in my future?” Larten asked quietly.

“I was speaking in general terms,” she corrected him. “We all suffer one way or another. In your case…” She seemed set to reveal something and he leaned forward eagerly. Then she paused and cocked her head. Larten thought he heard a faint ticking noise — a watch perhaps — but he couldn’t place it.

“Destiny watches over all of us,” she said softly. “But some catch its eye more than others.” She gazed at Malora and her expression was troubled. Then her head swung towards the mouth of the cave. By the way her face creased, Larten thought that somebody must be lurking there. But he could see no one, and moments laterthe witch waved away her worries.

“This is not the time to worry about what the future might bring,” she said. “Let us drink and be merry. Your fate will reveal itself in due course, as it always does. But muse on this the next time you fret about your path — we always travel the way we must. You might think that you have strayed, but no one ever steps from the path of destiny. Your doubts have always been waiting for you. Accept them, deal with them, and you will find your way to that which destiny requires of you.

“For better or for worse,” she finished glumly and would say no more about it, leaving Larten to puzzle over her strange mutterings for a long time to come.

That night Larten took Evanna’s advice to drink and be merry a little too closely to heart. Ale was his tipple of choice, but he had tried most alcoholic brews in his time. Since Evanna preferred wine, he drank it with her, even though she warned him that it was stronger than the wines he was familiar with.

“I can drink any man under the table,” Larten laughed. “And any vampire too.”

‘What about a sorceress?” Evanna asked.

“I will give it a good try,” he winked, toasting her health and asking Malora to refill his glass.

In a light mood, Evanna drank more than usual, and although she could never get drunk — it was physically impossible for one of her kind — she relaxed to the point where she wasn’t thinking clearly. She laughed at Larten’s jokes and smiled when he flattered her. The flattery was nothing new, but her response was different. Larten began to think that she might be warming to his advances. The more he drank, the surerhe became that the Lady of the Wilds wasfalling for his charms. She would become his mate and they’d have many powerful children. He wouldn’t have to worry about his future then — every vampire would idolize him, regardless of whether he’d completed his training or not.

“Evanna,” he murmured late in the night. His voice was only slightly slurred, but inside his head was spinning. “Do you remember the form you took before? The beautiful lady you became?”

“Are you saying I’m not beautiful now?” she snorted.

“Of course you are!” he cried. “You are always a delight to behold. But that other form… you know the one I mean… that was nice. Could you change again?”

“Don’t be impudent,” Evanna snarled, but she was smirking atthe same time.

“Please, Lady, I beg you, give me a vision to send me to bed mesmerized and dreamy.”

Evanna usually rejected such pleas — she only changed form to suit herself — but Malora saw her mistress smile in an odd way and sensed trouble brewing. The girl topped up the glasses for Evanna and Larten, then slipped away. They thought she was going to bed, but Malora had other plans. If things worked out the way she suspected, this would be an eventful night not just for the witch and vampire, but for her too.

Evanna didn’t notice her apprentice pick up a bag from beside her bed and slip outside. She was still considering Larten’s request. Seeing this, he pressed harder.

“It was a most fair form, Lady. Please let me worship before it again.” “Save your worship for the gods,” Evanna sniffed, but she decided to oblige him. Her body shimmered and moments later she was slim and tall, her hair long and blond, her eyes soft and deep. Larten had never heard of a fairy-tale princess more beautiful than this. His heart leapt as it had on that previous occasion and the laughterdrained from him.

“This pleases you, young monkey?” Evanna purred, twirling for him, letting the hem of her dress swish around her like a mist.

“It pleases me a lot,” Larten said weakly. He’d meant to come out with some lavish compliment, but that was the best he could manage.

“Vampires are simple creatures,” Evanna giggled. “So easy to please. I wish I was like you. Life would be so straightforward if I could be content with shining like an angel, winning the heart of every man who saw me. Ithink I would…”

Evanna kept talking but Larten was no longer focused on her words. His heart was pounding and he had only one thought in his head. Not even a tiny part of him cried caution. He yearned for Evanna totally, as he had never longed for a woman before.

He rose shakily as Evanna prattled on, steadied himself, wiped his lips dry, then took hold of the heavenly maiden in the long white dress. Evanna thought he wanted to dance and she laughed. But then he leaned forward and kissed her, and everything suddenly, drastically changed.

‘You cur!” Evanna yelled, more shocked than outraged. She pulled back from him and he tried to follow. Snarling, she lashed out with her right hand. The long nail on her little finger caught the flesh high up his left cheek, dug in deep and ripped a channel down to the side of his lip, where it tore free.

Larten shrieked and fell backwards, blood oozing from the wound, his eyes wide with fright and pain. For a moment he thought Evanna was going to finish him off and he cowered as she fixed him with a glare and her hands rose into claws.

Then the Lady ofthe Wilds caught herself and took a step back. “Get out!” she barked.

Larten didn’t wait to be told a second time. Stumbling to his feet, he ran for his life, trying to stem the flow of blood by tearing a strip of material from his shirt and pressing it to his cheek.

Evanna only meant for him to leave her sight and come back once she’d calmed down. But as he ran, she realized he had taken her order the wrong way. He thought she was banishing him. She started to call after him, to say that he could stay and she would repair the flesh of his face so that he didn’t get a scar. But as the words formed on her lips, she heard a soft ticking sound. Her chest tightened and she almost called to him anyway. But she knew that she couldn’t. This was destiny, and it wasn’t her place to interfere in such workings.

“It most certainly isn’t,” someone said in a pleasant yet chilling voice. “You did well to hold your tongue. I might have had to cut it out if you hadn’t.”

Evanna saw a pair of green boots coming across the floor towards her. The man inside them must have been standing almost directly in Larten’s way when he fled, but she wasn’t surprised that the vampire hadn’t seen the uninvited guest. The tiny meddler only revealed himself when he wanted to be noticed, and only when such sightings were guaranteed to lead to conflict and mayhem.

“I didn’t know that you were watching him,” Evanna said softly.

“Oh, yes,” her visitor smirked. “I have been keeping a close eye on Master Crepsley for a long time now. He’s heading down a deliciously dangerous path and I plan to be there when he comes to the drop at the end. In his darkest hour I will be at hand to reach out to him and offer him hope. What a lucky man he is to have a friend such as myself watching out for him. Don’t you agree, daughter?”

Closing her eyes, Evanna sighed and offered up a short prayer for Larten and Malora, even though she knew, as an agent of destiny with the power of foresight, that her prayer wouldn’t help the poor, doomed pair in the slightest.

Chapter Eighteen

Larten staggered down the hill from the cave, his cheek stinging, blood dripping from the sodden rag covering his wound. The pain and night air sobered him up briskly. How could he have been such a fool? Evanna had killed vampires for less. He didn’t blame her for cutting his cheek. He was just surprised he’d gotten out of the cave alive. In a way he was sorry that he had — at least he wouldn’t have had to live with his shame if she’d killed him.

On unsteady legs he weaved his way to the edge of the pond. Making sure he wasn’t in range of any poisonous frogs, he knelt and peeled the rag from his cheek. Fresh blood cascaded down his chin. Moaning softly — more from guilt than pain — he cupped a handful of water and splashed it over his face. It stung, but not as much as he’d thought it would.

Lowering his head, he drove it deep beneath the water and held it there until he ran out of breath. When he came up gasping, he heard footsteps. He guessed that the witch had come after him. Instead of fleeing, he held his position, staring into the water as the ripples cleared, hoping to die honorably when she attacked.

But when he glimpsed her reflection as the person came closer, he realized it wasn’t Evanna. It was her apprentice, Malora.

“Does it hurt terribly?” she asked, kneeling beside him.

“I have known worse,” Larten sighed. He had suffered many more serious injuries while training inside Vampire Mountain. But his pride had only taken this severe a beating on that initial night of fighting at his first Council.

Malora passed him a clean handkerchief. He thanked her with a short smile, then winced as he pressed it to his wound. “I have a needle and thread,” she said, patting a bag by her knees. “I can stitch you up if you wish. If I sew cleanly, the scar shouldn’t be too noticeable.”

Larten considered her offer, then dismissed it. “I will bear the scar openly,” he said. “It will remind me what a fool I was and hopefully help me never repeat the mistake that I made tonight.”

Malora smirked. “You tried to kiss her, didn’t you?”

Larten nodded. “She struck me, then chased me off. I am shocked that she did not kill me.”

“It was the wine. If you’d been sober, I’d be wrapping your severed head in a cloth now. You’re not the first to try to take advantage of her,” Malora said in answer to his raised eyebrow. “I’ve had to pick up the pieces of a couple of overly amorous suitors in the past. But Evanna knows the effect wine has on mortals. You angered her, obviously, but she realized your pass was more clumsy and innocent than cynical and insulting.”

‘Will you give her my apologies in the morning?” Larten asked.

“No,” Malora surprised him. “I’m leaving with you.”

‘What are you talking about?” Larten frowned and the gesture brought a fresh torrent of blood from the cut.

“I told you I was unhappy,” Malora said. “I’ve been waiting for an escort to lead me out of here. You’ll do.”

‘Wait a minute,” Larten said, alarmed. “I am no escort. You do not know where I am going. I might not see another human for months.”

She shrugged. “That doesn’t bother me. I might not even go back to my human life. I’m interested in vampires. I want to learn about your ways, maybe become one of you.”

“No!” Larten barked. “I do not want an assistant. I am not a General. You heard me talking with Evanna. I am confused, lost. I do not know what I want for myself, so I can hardly make decisions for you.”

“I’m not asking you to make any decisions for me,” Malora said coolly. “I’ve already made them. I’m coming with you. Where you lead doesn’t matter. I don’t care that you’re not part of the clan, that you might never be again. I just want to travel with you awhile. When I’ve had enough of your company, I’ll move on.”

Larten stared at the girl, not sure what to say. “You are too young,” he tried. “A vampire’s life is hard and testing. I could not make allowances fora child.”

“If I’m old enough to be a witch’s apprentice, I’m old enough to serve a vampire,” Malora huffed. “As for making allowances, that won’t be a problem. I need your help to get out of here, but once we reach civilization I’ll look after myself. If I can’t keep up, you have my permission to cut me loose.”

Larten tried one last tactic. “You might not be safe traveling with me,” he said darkly. “What if I try to kiss you like I kissed Evanna?”

“Nonsense,” Malora snorted. ‘You’re not the type of man to make an advance on a girl like me. Even if you were… well, I have sharp nails too, only I’d slit your throat, not your cheek.”

Larten laughed, then grimaced as his wound flared. “Very well,” he muttered. “As long as you understand that you are not my assistant, just a companion, aye?”

“Of course,” Malora said meekly, then added wickedly, "master."

Larten pushed himself up. He offered Malora a hand, but she waved it aside and hopped to her feet. Smiling brightly, she asked, “Which way?”

Larten blinked, then looked around and pointed to his right.

Malora shook her head.

“Left?” he tried weakly.

“An excellent choice,” she beamed and started down the path ahead of him. Larten thought about fleeing in the opposite direction — she couldn’t catch him if he flitted — but he didn’t want to leave the girl alone in the dark. Wringing blood from the handkerchief, he reapplied it to his cheek, rolled his eyes at the heavens, then followed after Malora like a lamb.