Dhampir - By Barb Hendee & J. C. Hendee Page 0,117

killed her last night were it not for the half-elf, the blacksmith, and that damned dog. No one else in this town will help her. If we rob her of any present assistance, she will be alone."

Teesha nodded, her face intense. Ratboy could just glimpse her smooth, white stomach through the rip in her red gown.

"Yes, Rashed," she said. "If we kill her friends first and then destroy her, will you take us away from here? We can rebuild someplace else?"

His voice softened, and he stepped over to stand behind her petite form. "Of course. We can't stay in Miiska."

"One on one is the only way," Ratboy put in. "Less chance of being seen."

"All right then," Teesha said, almost happily. "I will take the blacksmith… no, Edwan, don't be concerned. He lives in solitude. I will sing him to sweet sleep before he even knows what's happening."

"I'll take the half-elf," Ratboy said in resignation. "I can use the dog to lure him off by himself. Although to deal with the dog, I may have to use something vile and mortal like a crossbow." He smiled. "Or maybe an ax."

"You're both certain?" Rashed asked. "I know they're just mortals, but don't try anything unless you can each draw the blacksmith and half-elf off by themselves."

"Don't be so protective," Teesha answered. "I know how to control a mortal."

That much was true, Ratboy mused. She knew how to control immortals as well.

Rashed wanted the hunter's blood tonight, but Ratboy could tell this new plan made sense.

"Decided then," the tall undead said, more to himself than anyone. "Her friends die now, and we'll track her down tomorrow. Then we'll be free to go."

Edwan watched this entire exchange in silence, but his form was exuding a cold that even bothered Ratboy—who never felt the cold.

"And what will you be doing while the two of them are out murdering this hunter's followers?" the ghost asked Rashed.

Rashed stepped back in calm determination. The sea wind blew against his torn tunic. "There's only one hole in the belly of that ship. Otherwise, it's intact. I'm going to try to repair it and push it off the ground."

At first, Magiere found the thought of serving customers at The Sea Lion that night to be absurd. She could not believe Leesil had made a public announcement that they would be open for business.

Caleb quickly put together a simple mutton soup, and Leesil bought bread from Karlin's bakeshop. They tried to lay the convalescing Chap on Leesil's bed and close the bedroom door, but he whined and pawed at the door so much that Magiere relented and brought him back downstairs. All his wounds were nearly healed, but he still moved slowly and carefully. As long as he lay quietly by the fire and pretended to keep watch, he could stay in the common room with everyone else.

Once people began arriving to drink ale and talk, her spirits lifted slightly. Leesil's instincts were correct yet again. The inn was transformed into a place of life, food, and chatter. She'd spent too much time with death lately.

Her clientele was slightly altered. Fewer dockworkers came, but more shopkeepers and market-dwellers walked through the door and shouted greetings. Of course, she could always count on a variety of sailors. Several fishermen's wives made a fuss over Leesil's face, and he in turn soaked up the attention like a dry sea sponge.

Magiere poured tankards of ale and goblets of wine, the new glass goblets purchased as a gift by some of the local folk. Leesil helped Caleb serve soup until the supper crowd was sated, and then he started up a loud faro game. Too loud for her tastes, perhaps, but half the room alternated in and out of players' positions, the other half shouting or cursing at the luck of the cards.

Something in the air felt almost like a harvest celebration. Although Magiere could not take part, an expected— but not entirely unwanted—feeling of satisfaction began pushing away the guilt and horror she'd experienced earlier when Geoffry and Aria tried to pay her. Miiska was her home now. Intentionally or not, she and Leesil had actually done something to protect it.

This thought forced her gaze from the ale cask to the only person in the room not celebrating: Brenden.

He'd stayed all day on the pretense of helping get the tavern set up, but she had a feeling he simply didn't want to go home. Now he sat alone, drinking, occasionally smiling and nodding when