Vale… Is Not a Vampire?

When the quiet burbling of water became audible, Irina gave new instructions. “We’re turning off the path here and following the stream downriver. There’ll be a little shack in half a mile or so. That’s the rendezvous point.”

I steered my horse in the indicated direction and started paying closer attention to our surroundings. Retreating into my thoughts and overthinking things was an old habit, a bad one in a situation like this. It shouldn’t matter how many “revelations” Irina dumped on me. As long as I remained in the company of so many Inquisitors of dubious allegiance, any lapse of vigilance was dangerous.

Distraction and doubts about Dad’s reaction had even cost me the narrow window I had to eliminate Irina and her band of allies. I really should have killed them, regardless of what Dad would think about that. They intended to abandon me, so they held no more value to me. If Creeping-vines Sung caught one of them alive, he would have a lot more time to interrogate them than I had now, which was a tremendous risk. The sane choice was to remove those unknown risks and deal with the known risks killing even more Inquisitors created rationally.

Unless Irina’s employer sought retaliation for the deaths, then that created even more risks.

Aaaaah! This is why I shouldn’t overthink things!

It was too late now anyway. I could already smell the other group. Seven of them were Inquisitors, all leather and armor and tense fright. Intermingled in that was the eighth person, a female with an anxious taste of… spiced… ferns?

Can’t be…

I held in my horse and motioned for Irina to take the lead. “You go first in this last stretch. I would rather not have your twitchy friends make regretful mistakes.”

The short pause as we switched places allowed me to examine the sharp and unusual flavor of the woman. It was her. I was certain of that now. Unbelievably, impossibly, it was her. Aunt Reya. And Fern, my horse. She was the crazy woman Irina had mentioned. It was her. I should never have doubted that.

“Turnip?” Dad mumbled drowsily.

“It’s alright, Dad,” I answered, relief making me nestle comfortably into his familiar weight now that cold sleepiness was overtaking him and he wasn’t shrinking away from me. “I think I know the woman Irina’s going to deliver us to. Absolutely mad enough to storm up to the Inquisition and demand my release, but she’s a good person. Capable. She’ll know what to do. She… she’s a friend.”

“A … friend?” Suddenly more awake again, Dad sounded out the word friend with incredulity. His embrace of me became stiff and awkward once more.

I swallowed a growl, my elation and hope smothered as soon as it had arrived. Of course it was this again. I was still his murderous vampire child, so I couldn’t have friends like a normal person. Nothing had changed in how he saw me, and definitely not for the better. Overtaken by drowsiness, he’d merely forgotten for a moment, accidentally slipped into considering me as his perfectly human daughter, and now he’d reminded himself about my nature.

And this was the wrong time to be annoyed by his reaction. It wasn’t only Aunt Reya waiting for me. Seven Inquisitors were escorting her. Trained men, with crossbows aimed at every possible angle of approach. Seven Inquisitors that would be every bit as twitchy about my nature as Remorseful-morsel Piers, or as Dad.

If it wasn’t such a tense moment, it might almost be nostalgic, in a way. I had experienced a similar situation back in Birnstead, when the people there had first found out I was a vampire. So much was alike. Then too, the villagers had been waiting for me in the dark, with all their fears and murderous intent on display.

But some things were different as well. Unlike the inhabitants of Birnstead, these Inquisitors had not ruined their night vision with ill-placed torches. They hadn’t left as many blind spots in their defenses. They were much better armed. Professional vampire slayers as well.

And I had my dad’s panicked heartbeat at my back reminding me of what I had to lose if this mad gamble went wrong. I couldn’t possibly shield him from danger with my tiny frail body. A single stray crossbow bolt would be enough to end him. Nothing I could do to stop it. No healing magic strong enough to mend a deadly injury. Naked and empty-handed, I had little to defend us with.

But I was damned well going to try.

We approached, with Irina a good fifteen paces ahead of me. The quiet splashing of the tiny stream of water, the clop of a hoof, and the gentle rustle of the wind only added to the tenseness. The humans with me had all gone silent. I had gone silent as well. No more heartbeat. No more pointless human mimicry.

A tightness knotted in my stomach. I could only hope Irina’s men were not using her as bait, as a trap.

Another step closer to the meeting point, another step during which I wondered if I had misjudged the distance I should be leaving between us and Irina.

The first gaps appeared in the dense pack of trees, and I got a quick whiff of the scene awaiting us. Seven distinct flavors of Inquisitor had taken up position in a semicircle around the clearing, their stink of barely restrained fear overpowering the gentle flavors of moss and reeds and rotting wood.

The forest opened up, and then I could see as well as taste. Some of them were hidden behind rocks, young shoots, or bushes in what must have once been a clearing but was now slowly being reclaimed by nature. Others had taken cover behind the dry grasses and reeds that now sprouted from half-collapsed walls and moss-and-mushroom-eaten wood of what had probably been a shack hugging the stream. One Inquisitor had even climbed a tree that had entwined itself so firmly with the side of the abandoned dwelling that it was no longer possible to say where one ended and the other began.

They were good defensive positions. If it wasn’t for the eight horses milling near the riverbank, another human might not even be able to tell that those seven Inquisitors were here. Yet to me, who could locate them by their too-even breathing and the tense beating of their hearts, it was as if they were only pretending to hide.

Maybe they really were just pretending, falling back on familiar motions and training simply because the comfort of the known kept the panic away. Merely because it was better than acknowledging that their hiding spaces were useless when up against a vampire. The fresh taste of panic, as Irina called out to people she could not see in the dark, confirmed that suspicion.

Irina kept glancing at places where no one was hiding. Seven other Inquisitors only barely managed to stare in the general direction of her voice. This spectacle, in the perfectly dark, cloud-covered night, was why we hadn’t been followed into the woods. Because I could see and hear and taste it all from the very edge of the clearing, while they could barely see a handful of paces in front of them.

Silently urging my dad to stay on the horse, I dropped to the ground. Unseen, while Irina and the Inquisitors guarding the clearing exchanged greetings and assurances, I stalked closer towards the structure in the center of the clearing, and the person still inside of it, the one that wasn’t an Inquisitor.

I wasn’t even halfway there yet when that person came climbing out from between the vines and branches holding up what little remained of the abandoned dwelling. The person that I now knew, beyond a doubt, was Aunt Reya. She too had grown tired of the slow exchange. Those careful assurances from Irina that she had not been followed. That there was no ambush. The affirmation that Irina had the vampire Valentina. That the vampire was under control and not going to murder everyone.

Aunt Reya marched up to Irina, fearless. The undergrowth nearly tripped her. She plowed through it and demanded to see me. One of the Inquisitors tried to stop her from interfering. She began hurling insults at the man in her usual abrasive way.

When his words were unable to calm Aunt Reya, the Inquisitor moved to restrain her.

She socked him in the jaw. Hard. Aunt Reya hit the Inquisitor so hard the smack echoed through the clearing like thunder. So hard, that one of the most dangerous, well-trained, deadly people in the kingdom reeled from the blow, then slipped in the mud, then fell on his ass in the stream.

I laughed. I could not help myself. My foolish Aunt had assaulted an Inquisitor and everything was going to descend into brutal slaughter because of it, but I laughed.

Aunt Reya, hearing my guffaw erupt from the dark of night, rushed towards the sound of my voice, calling my name.

I didn’t wait for her to find me. I dashed forward, barreled into her, and wrapped my arms around her middle. I had just terrified every Inquisitor here by rushing out of the cover of darkness like this, but I did not care. She was here for me. Impossibly, implausibly, she had come after me.

I clung to her.

I nuzzled her.

I laughed in absolute delight.

She flailed. She hissed in panic. She tried to pry me off of her. Yet after months of living near her, I knew this wasn’t the shock or fear of being pounced by a vampire. This was awkward Aunt Reya, completely incapable of dealing with the concept of being hugged.

“Sarding hell Vale, you reek something ungodly.” Aunt Reya dug her fingers under my arms and began pulling me off of her in earnest. “Get off already. You’re making everyone think I’m being mauled or sucked dry or something. These are Inquisitors, divine’s sake. Have some common sense.”

I tensed. The severity of Aunt Reya’s words was reinforced by five, six, nine Inquisitors rushing to encircle us. The night lit up with runelight as every single enchantment woven into weapons and armor was activated simultaneously. The air around us bristled, laden with the promise of violent and deadly weaves.

Pulling one of my arms off of her, Aunt Reya turned to the Inquisitors surrounding us. “See, not dangerous.” My arm, held in her hand, flopped uselessly up and down as she waved it in demonstration. “Just an emotionally stunted, attention-starved child. Now put that shit away and sard off.”

I fought down the sheepish grin threatening to creep onto my face. No fangs. Not now. Not even smiles or anything that could be remotely interpreted as threatening. Vulnerable and sad and stupid and all that.

A brief argument followed, and eventually the Inquisitors peeled off and retreated to their horses. Maybe they simply decided they didn’t care if I mauled Aunt Reya, as long as it wasn’t them being attacked.

I honestly didn’t pay it all that much attention. Maybe I should have. But at the time, I needed my moment of peace and comfort more than I needed my answers. Aunt Reya may have found an acceptable reason for escaping the hug, but that did not mean I was letting go. I nestled my messy tangle of hair deeper into her chest and sniffed. It was so, so rare to have someone whose presence I could breathe in without temptation, and I was going to enjoy this. Besides, if she really wanted me off her, she would have long picked me up or tossed me to the ground.

I did not get the time I needed. I barely got properly settled in Aunt Reya’s embrace before I heard my dad’s stumbling footsteps.

“Tina, who is this madwoman?” he asked, still standing a very safe five feet away from me.

“Tina?” Reya pushed me away from her and raised an eyebrow.

“Vale,” I corrected automatically. “Dad. Aunt Reya.” I gestured between them as a means of introducing them to each other. Thankfully the Inquisitors working around us still had their runelight enchantments going, bathing the clearing in its gentle light so that both of them could see me gesture.

“Aunt Reya?” My dad sounded out the woman’s name in disbelief.

No, it wasn’t so much the name making him hesitate, but the other part. Aunt. He’d stressed this thing that had lodged itself into my thoughts sometime during my stay in Birnstead. This feeling I did not have a name for, but which expressed itself in a sense of affection and kinship. The extra word that now rolled off my tongue even when it was inadequate and insufficient and so needed that I couldn’t imagine ever not uttering it. Something more than family, precious and worthwhile and mine.

And with Dad’s unspoken question, came another accusation. This isn’t a friend. This isn’t how friendship works. This relationship you think you have with this woman, it is not natural.

I glowered, but kept my mouth shut. No, no matter how much he wanted to, I was not going to argue this. Not now. Not here. Not again. Not when we’d had this same argument over Uncle Hadrian every single year. Not after trying and failing to explain my affection for Aunt Reya to the people of Birnstead. Even if this feeling wasn’t like friendship — like how I saw Nebby and Shae — I would not let anyone take it away from me. And I would not allow Dad to drag me into another irrational argument over this here, in front of all these Inquisitors.

Aunt Reya filled the awkward silence with a look of disapproval, and a hand reluctantly held out to my dad in greeting. “Nice to meet you, sir, you have a lovely daughter.” The icy tone of her voice spoke of just how nice she really found everything.

My dad approached warily and took the offered hand.

Aunt Reya shot me a disapproving look, pulled Dad closer, shrugged off her winter cloak, and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Before things could get more awkward, Irina returned, one of the Inquisitors from this new group trailing after her. “The letter.” She held out a tiny slip of paper towards me. “We’re leaving. Don’t linger. Stay safe. Stay hidden.”

I took the offered note and turned it over and over. Plain rough paper. Blank seal. Anyone could have opened this and then resealed it. No way to tell.

Aunt Reya shuffled closer, glancing over my head to study the note as well. “Ah, good. So there is a letter. They were telling the truth about that then, at least.”

“How do you know about this?” my dad asked.

“Me and the boys have been… accompanying each other for a couple of days now. That’s enough time to loosen some tongues and gently pry into some things.”

“You questioned the Inquisitors?” my dad gave Aunt Reya a disbelieving stare.

Aunt Reya gave him a lopsided grin. “Hey, I’m sensible alright. I only get violent with Inquisitors after I have built rapport and gotten what I want. Couldn’t tell me who your mysterious benefactor is, though.”

I hiccupped. Build rapport, then sock them. That was such a Reya thing. Such a gods-damned Reya thing to do. “Well, I wish I could tell you.” I sighed. “I don’t have crazy mysterious benefactors that can hire Inquisitors to break me out. And I certainly don’t want to be indebted to any. This letter terrifies me, Aunt Reya.”

“Well, better open it then. I’d prefer to ask any follow-up questions we might have before these assholes ride off on us.”

With a final, resigned sigh, I put a claw behind the seal, tore it loose, and folded the thing open. My eyes flitted over impossibly familiar handwriting, darting straight toward the name at the end. The little fold of paper nearly slipped from my fingers.

“No, no, no,” I whimpered.

Dad and Aunt Reya both leaned in, trying to read along. Again, it was Aunt Reya who showed no apprehension. Standing directly behind me she placed her hands on my shoulders, while Dad kept a little more distance.

For their benefit, I whispered the words just loud enough for them to hear as my claws traced the large, swirling cursive of Uncle Hadrian’s handwriting.