Dhampir - By Barb Hendee & J. C. Hendee Page 0,129

long."

"We'll go to the docks," Rashed said. "You will be safe there."

"Safe," Ellinwood repeated.

He hurried to the wardrobe, unlocked the top drawer, and pulled out several heavy pouches that jingled in his hands.

"Give me the coins for safekeeping," Rashed said. "I will guard them for you."

The constable handed him the pouches. Rashed tied them to his belt and pulled the cloak around himself again.

They walked down the stairs together, and this time, Rashed simply hid beneath his hood as they passed Loni. The constable lived there. No one would question him leaving with a companion. The two of them traveled quickly through the quiet town to the shore, and Rashed moved out to stand on the wooden planks at the end of a dock.

"Here," he said. "You will be safe here."

Ellinwood joined him. His weight caused the boards to creak.

"Safe," he said again, smiling.

Rashed could not believe how easy the man's mind was to control. It took little effort at all, and controlling the perceptions of another while feeding suggested thoughts was normally a great effort for him. He reached out with both hands and grasped Ellinwood's fleshy face. Then he jerked hard to the left, snapping the constable's neck. His victim felt no pain, but was simply rendered lifeless.

Rather than attempting to hold the heavy body up, he allowed it to fall backward off the long dock. No one would hear it hit the water. It might wash out to sea, and it might wash up on the shore. If someone discovered it, they would see red-pouched eyes and later find the yellow powder in his room. Either way, by the time he was found, Rashed planned to be long gone.

The thought of Teesha alone at the boat made him anxious, and he left the docks quickly, fingering the pouches on his belt, not giving Ellinwood's place of death a backward glance.

Chapter Eighteen

Magiere knelt upon the floor and bandaged Leesil's ribs las best she could, while the half-elf sat numbly on the side of his bed. According to Caleb, Miiska had possessed a competent healer until the previous winter. The healer's wife suffered from a breathing illness, and he'd taken her south to a drier climate. Caleb said the few others in town who claimed to be healers were probably less skilled than Magiere herself at dealing with cracked bones, and the last knowledgeable herbalist was Brenden's mother, who died years ago.

Although alarmed that Leesil was injured again so soon, Magiere felt a guilty sense of purpose for the task of tending him. It gave her an activity to focus on. Leesil had not spoken a word since hearing of Brenden's death and stared at the wall of his bedroom while she used torn sheets to wrap his broken ribs. His jaw was now several shades of purple and yellow. Some of Welstiel's salve remained, and she carefully applied it to his face.

Chap paced about the room. Twice, he came over and shoved his wet nose into Leesil's dangling hand, who did not respond.

"You'll heal," Magiere said finally.

"Will I?" he answered.

"Yes, you will."

He was quiet for a while and then drew air in through his mouth, wincing slightly.

"I thought they were gone, Magiere. I swear to all the gods that I thought them dead."

"I know. We all did. It isn't your fault."

Magiere remembered how in the beginning she'd been desperate to avoid becoming embroiled in all of this. How foolish. There was no way to avoid it. There never had been. And now these undead creatures would not rest until she and any near her were dead and buried in a local graveyard.

"I won't pretend to understand how you feel, but the worst is yet to come," she said, and her voice failed her for a moment. "I need you. Are you up to making a defense plan with me?"

He blinked in sadness. "I honestly don't know."

She got up from the floor and sat beside him on the bed.

This was a pleasant room. The mattress was stuffed with feathers, not straw, and everything smelled of Leesil, a mix of earth and spices. There was also a slight musty smell, and she knew his bedding had not been aired since Beth-rae's death. A small table and one chair were in the corner, but with the exception of a fat, white candle, the table was bare. For the most part, his room was neat and spare. Although he had the ability to go through money at an amazing rate, material objects