KARA WAS NOT well pleased when the red-haired girl came pounding upon their door so late at night, and as the late night visitor lingered upon the stoop, desperation haunting her face, before asking to speak with Mathew.
Her eyes darting nervously along the darkened street as though she feared someone might be watching her.
Kara studied the young girl for a moment, wondering what Mathew had gotten himself involved in now?
Whatever had brought this desperate child to their door at such an hour, it was clearly not anything good.
Glancing up and down the deserted street herself, Kara stepped aside and ushered the girl inside.
"Come in quickly child," she whispered, hurriedly closing the door behind her.
She turned toward the back of the house and called out to her husband.
"Mathew! There's someone here needs to speak to ye!"
Mathew stepped from the back room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He pulled up short when he recognized Maeve, the red-haired serving wench who had once worked for Robert at The Wolf And Lamb.
A feeling of dread tightened in his chest as the realization of why she might have come dawned upon him.
The healer and her man must be in need of his help, but how did they know Maeve?
Mathew caught Kara's eye over the girls head and subtly motioned for her to give them some privacy.
Kara looked from the girl to her husband, her eyes narrowing.
"I don't know what this is all about," she said, "but I do know that if you've gotten yourself, or this girl" she indicated towards their late night visitor with a sharp jut of her chin "into some sort of trouble, Mathew Neally, there will be hell to pay!"
With one last warning glance at her husband, Kara turned and left them to discuss whatever private business had brought the girl to their door at such a late hour.
"Eldra sent me. They need your help." Maeve said in a conspiratorial whisper, after Kara had left the room. "They're waiting for you in the back room of the tavern. Please, come quickly!"
Maeve waited anxiously in the kitchen while Mathew dressed. Kara remained nearby, watching her husband with growing unease.
When Mathew reached beneath the bed and drew out his heavy battle axe, the color drained from her face.
She sat upon the edge of their bed, staring at him as a growing sense of unease settled over her.
"What is wrong, Mathew? What have you gotten yourself mixed up in?" she demanded.
Mathew paused only long enough to meet her worried gaze.
"I promise I will explain everything when I return," he said gruffly.
Before she could press him further, he leaned down and gave her a quick kiss upon the head.
Then, without another word, he hastily left the house, his battle axe in hand, with Maeve trailing close behind him.
Kara remained sitting on the edge of the bed, staring after them, a knot of dread tightening in her stomach.
Robert looked up with a welcoming smile when Mathew and Maeve entered the tavern, but the smile quickly vanished when he noticed the axe in Mathew's hand.
The blood drained from Robert's face as they rushed past him without so much as a word, heading straight for the private room at the back of the tavern where the couple waited.
Robert raced from behind the bar, hoping to intercept Mathew before he reached the room.
But he was too late.
He heard the door slam open. Then all was silent.
A lump formed in Robert's throat as he hurried after them.
He reached the doorway and cautiously stepped inside, only to pull up short in astonishment.
There, standing in the room, was Mathew, still gripping his battle axe, calmly speaking with the couple who had arrived earlier in the night.
Maeve stood beside him, equally composed. Robert stared at them in bewilderment.
He had expected to find a bloodbath. Instead, everyone appeared remarkably friendly, as though the four of them were merely engaging in casual conversation at the village fete, rather than the surreal tableau he saw before him.
All heads turned toward Robert as he entered the room.
Fear flashed across Eldra's face, and she hastily pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, lowering her gaze in the hope of concealing her features.
She could only pray that Robert would not recognize her.
"No need to hide your face, Miss," Robert said gently. "I recognized you the moment Maeve called you into the tavern. Though I must confess, I do not recognize your companion."
He glanced briefly toward Vincent before returning his attention to Eldra.
"Yer both welcome here, Miss. Johnas is no friend of mine, I can assure you of that. You're safe here," he said.
Eldra lowered her hood, a feeling of relief washing over her now that she knew the innkeeper had no intention of betraying her presence to Johnas. Robert stepped farther into the room to join the conspirators, though his gaze remained fixed upon the stranger standing beside Eldra.
He studied Vincent with undisguised suspicion, clearly wondering who the mysterious stranger might be and what trouble he had brought with him to the tavern.
Eldra spoke hurriedly, explaining what had happened at the cottage.
She purposely left out the part about Vincent dispatching Mow-bray's men, choosing instead to say only that there had been a scuffle between Vincent and the men, after which they had fled back into the cover of the forest.
"So you see, we now find ourselves homeless, having been forced to abandon the cottage, with no safe haven left to us," she concluded, looking hopefully at the faces gathered around her.
Mathew pulled Robert aside so as not to be overheard.
"Do ye have a room where they may stay?" Mathew asked Robert looked over Mathew's shoulder at the three refugees.
"Christ, man, ye know Mowbray's men are billeted here. They crawl all over the tavern at all hours of the day and night. What about the church? Do ye think Father Thomas would grant them sanctuary?" Robert asked. Mathew glanced across the room at Vincent, doubt filling his eyes. "No. We need to squirrel them away somewhere beyond the village, someplace where they will not draw too much attention to themselves."
He turned back toward Robert. "Tell me, do you still own the land that belonged to your mother?"
Hope burned in Mathew's eyes as he waited for his answer.
"Aye, I do. But the house is in ill repair. It's not fit for man nor beast to live in." Robert replied.
Vincent listened as the two men continued their discussion, standing silently at the front of the room.
His gaze eventually settled upon Eldra.
Perhaps he should force her to leave.
If he returned to the forest and put as much distance between himself and the village as possible, at least Eldra might have a chance to find somewhere safe to hide. His presence only seemed to place her in greater danger.
The thought of leaving her filled him with anguish, yet he could not deny that it might be the only way to keep her safe.
Vincent turned toward Eldra, gazing into her emerald eyes and seeing the terrible light of hope burning within them.
With a long, weary sigh, he took her hands in his and began to speak softly.
"My little raven, listen to me. I can no longer place you in the path of Mowbray and his men by keeping you close to me. You need to leave."
Eldra's expression faltered, but Vincent gently tightened his hands around hers.
"I will ask Mathew to take you to the next village and secure you lodgings. Once I have dealt with Mowbray and Johnas, I will join you, and we can be together again."
He hesitated before adding, "Maeve can accompany you. You will not have to make the journey alone." Giving her hands a gentle kiss.
As Vincent crossed the room to speak with Mathew, Eldra watched him go, apprehension filling her soul.
If she left him, would he survive long enough to return to her? The question tormented her.
Vincent spoke as though defeating Mowbray and Johnas were merely a matter of time, yet Eldra knew how dangerous the men hunting them had become, and the thought of leaving him to face them alone filled her with a dread she could not shake.
With the others otherwise occupied, Eldra slipped quietly from the room and out into the darkened street. The cool night air swept across her head as she pulled her cloak tightly around herself, her heart pounding with every hurried step.
She could not simply stand by and let Vincent send her away.
He might believe he was protecting her, that sending her away was the only way to keep her safe, but Eldra could not bear the thought of losing him. She had already lived too many lives filled with loss, too many endings she had no power to prevent.
She would not allow this one to be taken from her so easily.
Vincent had always walked willingly toward danger, believing his own existence a small price to pay for hers.
But Eldra was beginning to understand that loving him meant more than allowing him to sacrifice himself for her.
If he was determined to face their enemies, then she would face them beside him.
Even if it meant risking her own life. Even if fate itself demanded otherwise.
* * *
The mercenary who had survived Vincent's attack ran through the forest like a man possessed, stumbling over roots and fallen branches as he fled blindly into the darkness. Every snap of a twig sent a fresh wave of terror through him. He could not shake the feeling that the monster who had slain his companions was perusing him through the trees, waiting to pounce if he dared glance back over his shoulder.
The murderous look in the creature's crimson eyes as he had cut down Armondo and Paulson was burned into Pike's memory.
There had been no hesitation in those eyes, no trace of mercy, only an insatiable bloodlust that had frozen his blood and driven every thought of courage from his mind.
He had turned tail and run rather than throw away his life on such a fool's errand.
That thing would not be taken down by a handful of old men looking to relive their glory days, and Pike wanted no part of it.
Let Mowbray find some other fool willing to hunt, and die chasing that creature through the woods.
Pike had seen enough to know that the thing they were hunting was dangerous beyond any Vampire he had hunted before, and if it came after him, he had no intention of waiting around to find out just how fast it could run.
By the time Pike managed to make it back to Mowbray and his cadre of soldiers, he was breathless and barely able to remain on his feet.
He came crashing through the tree line, stumbling into the clearing as though the very Devil himself were at his heels.
Every soldier immediately drew his sword, bracing himself for whatever might emerge from the darkness of the forest.
But no creature appeared only Pike who collapsed to his knees, gasping desperately for air.
Mowbray's heart began to pound loudly within his chest as he stared at the terrified mercenary. One glance at Pike's ashen face was enough to tell him that something had happened, had finally confirmed his suspicions. The creature was real, and from the look of sheer terror etched across Pike's features, Mowbray knew he was finally on the right path toward achieving his goal of destroying the last of its kind.
"Where's Armondo and Paulson?!" Mowbray demanded as Pike struggled to gulp in enough air to speak.
"They're... they're dead, Sir," he managed between gasps. "Cut down by the creature. The vampire has the strength of twenty men and blazing crimson eyes."
Pike dropped to his knees, his legs no longer strong enough to carry him. Mowbray motioned to one of his guards, who hurried forward with a skin of wine.
Pike seized it greedily and drank deeply, wiping the back of his hand across his lips before taking another long draft.
The wine beginning to steady his trembling nerves, though the terror still lingered in his eyes.
At last, Pike lowered the skin and looked up at the peacock of a man standing before him.
Mowbray's fine clothes, polished boots, and richly embroidered cloak seemed almost absurd against the dark forest surrounding him.
He looked every inch the Noble Lord, standing there with his hand resting upon the hilt of his Sir John's sword.
Pike wondered if the fool had any idea what he was up against.
"Get up and take us to him!" Mowbray ordered.
Pike slowly rose from the ground. He stood, swaying for a moment, his breathing still ragged, before looking Mowbray squarely in the eyes.
Then spat in his ignoble face.
Mowbray wiped the man's spittle from his face with one finely embroidered sleeve. Fury burning in his eyes.
"Fuck off, you cunt!" Pike roared. "If you think I'm going up against that thing again, you're out of your inbred mind! You can risk your neck and the necks of every man here, but as for me, I'm done! Keep your lousy coin, you prick!"
For a moment, silence fell over the clearing.
Pike reached down, unhooking the heavy coin purse from his belt, and hurling it at Mowbray's feet.
The purse struck the ground with a dull clink, spilling several coins into the dirt.
"I have earned every bloody one of them," Pike snarled, "but I'd rather walk away empty handed than end up disemboweled by that creature in those woods."
He rounded on the other men gathered around him unsteadily, his bloodshot eyes sweeping across their faces.
"And if any of you have the good sense God gave you, you'll do the same!" he shouted. "That thing is not some common brigand you can run through with a sword. It slaughtered Armondo and Paulson like they were cattle!"
Pike pointed toward the darkened forest.
"So go on, then. Follow your lord into those woods if you're fool enough.
But don't expect me to follow you."
For the first time since they had entered the forest, none of the men spoke.
Pike's words had struck a chord.
They had all heard the stories of the red eyed phantom.
But Pike had seen it, and judging by the terror still etched across his face, whatever he had encountered in those woods was far worse than any story they had been told.
With one swift movement, Mowbray drew his sword from its scabbard and struck.
Pike's head was severed from his body in an instant, his lifeless body crumpled heavily to the ground, sending up a small cloud of dead leaves into the air around it.
For several moments, no one moved.
Mowbray calmly drew his handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped the blood from his blade before sliding it back into its scabbard.
He then cast his eyes around the clearing, meeting each man's shocked gaze in turn.
"Does anyone else have any objections to proceeding with the mission?" he asked coldly.
None of them dared speak.
Mowbray allowed the silence to linger for a moment before turning his attention toward the dark forest.
"Good!" he spat.
"Archer," Mowbray ordered the guard, "go to Johnas's house and fetch Lady Mary. Tell her that her loving husband wishes to take her on a moonlit stroll in the woods. And Archer tell her I will brook no objections! I think it is time to put my plan into action." Mowbray's eyes glowered into the darkness.
Archer glanced down at Pike's lifeless body, hesitating for only a moment before looking back at his lord.
"Yes, Sir," he answered nervously, before turning and hurrying off in the direction of the village, making his way towards Johnas' townhouse.
Mowbray watched him disappear into the darkness, his expression unreadable. The corner of his mouth curled into the faintest of smiles.
Lady Mary would serve as the perfect bait, and tonight, he intended to draw the creature out of hiding once and for all.
* * *
Vincent and Mathew ran out into the darkness after discovering that Eldra had slipped away while their backs were turned. They glanced up and down the empty street, searching desperately for any sign of her, she was nowhere to be seen.
Turning to one another, they exchanged a silent nod of understanding before setting off in opposite directions.
Vincent headed toward the edge of the village and Eldra's cottage, hoping she had gone there.
Meanwhile, Mathew made his way toward the docks, knowing Eldra might have chosen to return to the cottage by the meadow.
Both praying they would find her before one of Mowbray's men did.
* * *
Bertha felt annoyance when she heard the heavy knocking at the door.
"Who in the hell would be a knockin' on the door at this time of night?" she muttered under her breath as she shuffled toward the entrance, pulling it open.
One of Mowbray's finely dressed guards stood upon the stoop.
Though he tried to maintain an air of authority, there was a haunted look in his eyes.
"Lord Mowbray has sent me to fetch Lady Mary," he said. "Please ask her to accompany me to him."
Bertha frowned.
"She's already abed, she is, and the poor woman has had a long day. She canna be disturbed at this hour."
"I have my orders."
"And I have mine," Bertha snapped. "The Lady is not to be disturbed."
Before she could say another word, the young guard pushed his way past her and into the townhouse.
"Now see here!" Bertha protested, hurrying after him. "Ye cana just barge into the Master's house like ye own the place!"
The guard ignored her and marched up the stairs toward Lady Mary's chambers.
"The Master will have yer head for this, young man!" Bertha threatened as she followed close behind. "Ye'll see if he don't!"
The man hesitated for a moment as he climbed the stairs, the look of surprise on Pike's severed head as it lay on the ground still haunted him.
The guard reached Mary's door and raised his fist, knocking sharply against the heavy wood.
Bertha stopped a few steps behind him, glaring at his back.
Whatever Lord Mowbray wanted with Lady Mary at this hour, Bertha had a feeling it was nothing good.
The housekeeper could hear the Lady moving about behind the door.
Mary pulled her dressing gown over her chemise before opening the door a crack.
The moment she saw the guard standing upon the landing, her eyes flew wide and she fully opened the door.
"What is it, Archer? Has something happened to my lord?" she asked with feigned concern.
"No, My Lady," he replied. "My lord only requests that you join him for a moonlight walk in the forest."
Mary scowled.
She could not understand why her husband would send one of his men to fetch her if he was the one who wished for her company.
Something about the request unsettled her.
"Tell my husband I have already retired for the night," she said dismissively.
She began to close the door, but before it could shut, Archer thrust his way into the chamber.
"What are you doing?" Mary cried.
The guard seized her roughly by the arm and shoved her ermine cloak into her hands.
"You are to come with me, My Lady."
He dragged her toward the stairs despite her protests, forcing her down them and toward the still open entrance.
"Unhand me!" Mary demanded. "I command you!" Archer ignored her.
Bertha hurried after them, horrified to see the woman being dragged toward the street in nothing but her chemise.
"Have ye lost yer bloody mind?" she shouted.
She hurried to Mary's aid, wrapping the ermine cloak around her shoulders and helped her fasten it properly before Archer could drag her half naked into the streets.
Bertha slipped a small knife into Lady Mary's hand.
"Keep this hidden," she whispered urgently.
Mary looked down at the blade, then back at the old woman.
Before Bertha could say more, Archer seized Mary by the arm once more and dragged her through the doorway and out into the moonless night.
Bertha stood in the entrance way watching them disappear into the darkness, a growing sense of dread settling heavily in her heart.
Something was terribly wrong, and she feared Lady Mary was walking straight into danger.