She reached out with her free hand and touched his beard. Her hand moved down to his throat, where her fingertips pressed against the side as if to feel the blood pumping. Nothing. She already knew he was dead, and her actions futile, but now she was one of the desperate, and she was paying a price.

Magiere remembered him standing in front of the tavern door that morning, blocking Ellinwood's entrance, protecting her home.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to him. "I'm so sorry for everything."

Welstiel was right. She should have made sure. She should have searched for the bodies and never stopped until she made sure those vampires were truly dead. She had let Leesil and Brenden just walk out into the night air. This was her fault.

She dropped her falchion and gripped her own knees, rocking back and forth. It was too much.

Too much.

In the distance, an eerie keening wail broke through her inaction.

Magiere grabbed her falchion off the ground and ran out into the street near the front of Brenden's stables and forge.

Chap's cry sounded out again. Chap was hunting.

"Leesil."

Chapter Seventeen

After Leesil left Brenden, he started for The Sea Lion, then changed his mind. Sounds of the sea called him, and he wanted a bit more time to himself before going home, so he walked toward Miiska's waterfront instead of taking the streets back to the tavern.

Pity for Brenden occupied his thoughts, but he was also troubled by the realization that he wanted to tell his friend the truth-well, maybe not the entire truth, just the part about how he and Magiere had earned a living for several years. How would Brenden react when he realized he'd risked his life hunting undeads with two people who probably knew less about it than he did?

Then again, they had been successful and everyone in their group survived. Perhaps the truth didn't matter.

Before him, gravelly sand and water stretched up along the forested shore and to the docks farther down. The sea lapping gently in and out on the beach was strangely comforting in moonlight.

Leesil tried to push aside any troubles that did not require immediate attention and focus on the moment at hand. Of course, some memories, old and deep, haunted him no matter what, but tonight the beach was peaceful, Magiere was alive, and Brenden might finally be able to mourn and someday recover from the loss of his sister. And Chap was on the mend. What more could he ask of life?

He strolled down the shoreline at a steady pace, and soon he found himself thinking about the tavern roof and getting an advance from Magiere for some new clothes. She needed some as well. Had she mentioned something about already ordering a new shirt? Maybe she had. Magiere.

He tried hard not to think of the previous night, and found himself testing the bandage around his wrist. He felt the lingering ghost of her lips and teeth on his arm.

Leesil shook himself. It wasn't bad enough that the whole event had been macabre and grotesque-it was somehow alluring. Or perhaps that was just because of her and not what had happened, what he'd been forced to do not to lose her.

A small wave lapped near his feet and then a high-pitched wail exploded near the tree line. He froze. Impossible.

It was impossible for Chap to be hunting. That cry he had only used when pursuing vampires. There was nothing left to hunt.

Leesil bolted down the beach toward the docks. "Chap!" he yelled. "Hold! Wait for me." The small bay grew deeper as he approached the docks, and the beach disappeared into the water until only rock and earth slanted sharply up to the edge of town. He climbed the rough embankment and kept going, not even pausing at the burned remains of the warehouse. When he reached a point where The Sea Lion was just up ahead, he stopped to listen. Leesil turned slowly around, waiting to hear Chap's howl again. When it came, the eerie sound was out in the trees beyond the tavern and the south end of town. He bolted again, not bothering to wonder what he would do when he caught up.

"Chap!" he shouted while still in motion. "You stop. I mean it!"

The dog's cry stopped briefly, but Leesil couldn't tell if this had anything to do with his orders or not. As suddenly as it stopped, the wail burst out again, but it changed directions.

Leesil stopped in a small clearing, panting among the giant firs and brush, in almost total darkness. Though the moon was bright, it did not penetrate the forest completely. He forced himself to stand still and just listen. The howls were growing quickly louder, now separated by barks and snarls. Then he realized that Chap-or whatever the dog pursued-was coming directly toward him.

Almost too late, Leesil dropped and tried to roll as a blurred form flew at him from nowhere, striking him hard across the jaw. Dazed and gasping for breath, he looked around wildly, still not sure what had hit him.

"Why don't you run?" a faintly familiar voice asked with gleeful intent. "Run and I'll catch you again."

Despite severe dizziness, fear caused Leesil to push himself upward and see the creature taunting him: a dirty, brown urchin with a skeletal face and torn clothing.

Ratboy.

"How?" he tried to whisper, but his mouth wouldn't work.

With unnatural quickness, Ratboy dropped to a crouch as if he wanted to talk. He half smiled, but the gesture did nothing to ease Leesil's panic.

"You know," Ratboy said, "I've never been one to play with my food, but now I feel like taking my time." His smile faded. "Where's your oil? Your stakes? Your hunter?"

Leesil tried to swallow, to think. In one flick he could have a stiletto in each hand. Would such weapons help him? Could he even get close to this… this thing that moved faster than he could see?

Chap's voice grew closer, and Leesil willed him to hurry. How had this creature survived the fire?

Ratboy's face caught and held Leesil's attention for a blink of time. So human, so young and lean and sharp like his body. Brown eyes glared, shining with the emotions of hate and triumph. Leesil had to remind himself that he wasn't facing an unkempt teenage boy.

Where was Chap?

"Perhaps we could call this a draw?" Leesil joked to buy time. "I promise not to hurt you."

"Oh, but I want to hurt you."

Ratboy jumped up and kicked him in the ribcage hard enough to flip him over onto his back. A loud crack resonated through Leesil's body, and he felt at least two of his ribs snap. For a moment, the pain blinded him.

And then, like a song cut short, the eerie baying stopped, as if Chap had disappeared.

Ratboy's head swiveled toward the trees and back again.

"Is that what you were waiting for, the dog? I'm strong enough for him now, too, but my pretty partner must have finished with your blacksmith and come to assist me. I do apologize."

He leaned down and grabbed Leesil by the shirt.

As Ratboy pulled him to his feet, Leesil curled his hands and flicked open the holding straps of the sheaths on his forearms. Stilettos dropped out of his sleeves into each hand.

He slammed both hilt-deep into Ratboy's sides.

"One good… turn for another," he gasped out and then wrenched both hilts down.

Ratboy's mouth dropped open at the sound of his own ribs snapping. One of the stiletto hilts came away in Leesil's hand, its blade breaking off inside the vampire's body.

Without exerting himself, Ratboy flung the half-elf through the air.

Leesil's body glanced off a tree trunk into a low branch. His impact severed the branch, and he fell hard to the forest floor.

Choking, fighting for air, half-blinded by pain, Leesil clutched the broken piece of wood and held on tight.

Magiere cursed her long skirt as she ran into the forest, following the sound of Chap's voice. Catching on brush and hitting her ankles, the heavy fabric slowed her pace.