Dhampir - By Barb Hendee & J. C. Hendee Page 0,67

disappear. But I need someone to watch the others, the half-elf and the dog."

"Then you should take me. I could do better for you than Ratboy."

"I know you would, but"—he walked over to the couch—"just stay here."

"A noble gesture," Edwan said from the center of the room, "but I agree. Do be careful, Rashed. It's been a long time since you fought anything stronger than an accounting error. Something unfortunate might happen."

Rashed did not respond, but he could feel Edwan's attention upon him like the first glimmer of dawn burning at his skin. He wondered what he had ever done to earn the ghost's venom. It had been Corische who'd falsely accused and beheaded him.

"Yes, you must be cautious," Teesha agreed, either missing or dismissing the ghost's sarcasm.

Rashed nodded and left to get his sword.

Chapter Nine

Several patrons—mainly young sailors—remained talking and drinking at The Sea Lion until well past midnight. Magiere felt some relief when they finally downed the last of their ale and bid her goodnight. She had set no official closing time, preferring to wait until customers left of their own accord. But tonight had been longer than usual, with less than a handful of hours left until dawn. She was tired, and Leesil had been strangely quiet and distant all night. She overheard one of the fisherwives gossiping about how the half-elf had bailed the blacksmith out of jail. It surprised her and made her ashamed for her assumption that he'd been gambling on his own time and needed the money for a debt.

Beth-rae sighed deeply. "I thought those boys would never tire."

Leesil sat at the end of the bar nearest the door, drinking a cup of red wine. "Perhaps we ought to start asking people to leave at a reasonable time," he added.

"You could have gone up to bed," Magiere said flatly. The last of the faro players had departed hours ago, and, with such peaceful late-night patrons as the young sailors, she wasn't sure why he'd lazed about the bar the rest of the night.

He blinked, then frowned, looking hurt. "I always help close up."

Yes, he did, and that wasn't what bothered Magiere. For all her speculation, she couldn't figure out why he'd spent a month's wage bailing out that headstrong blacksmith and that annoyed her. In fact, it annoyed her enough that she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking him.

Chap slept contentedly by the fire, curled in a huge silver ball. With half the lamps and candles in the room snuffed out, the hearth threw its dim red light across the room, reflecting off Leesil's yellow-white hair and smooth skin. It suddenly occurred to Magiere that she really had no idea how old her partner was. With mixed blood, he'd likely live longer than a human, but then she had no idea how long full-blooded elves lived.

"Well, let's clean up then and go to bed," she said.

"You go on up, Miss," Caleb said in his perpetually calm voice. "You've been working harder than anyone. We'll get things closed down."

She glanced at Leesil, who nodded and stood up.

"Yes, go on, and I'll lend them a hand," he said. "I've been sitting long enough."

The pink tinge of his eyes and almost indiscernible slur in his voice suggested he'd already had more than a cup or two, but she felt too tired to argue and headed for the stairs. Chap awoke and stretched as Leesil went to break up the fire. Caleb and Beth-rae went into the kitchen. All in all, it was a typical late night at the tavern, at least for as long as Magiere had been there.

* * *

Inside the darker night of the alley across from The Sea Lion, Ratboy crouched beside Rashed and watched the last glimmers of light in the windows fade out. Rashed stared down hard at him.

"No feeding at all, and no bodies if possible," Rashed said for the third time. "Do you understand? Just watch the common room and be ready to assist me if needed. I will enter through an upstairs window and break her neck while she's sleeping. If you have to kill, then so be it—but no noise, no disturbance. We take her body out to sea, and she simply becomes another 'disappearance.'"

Ratboy's resentment was difficult to hide, as was his discomfort at possibly having to fight the hunter or the dog yet again. At the moment, he couldn't fathom why he hadn't just refused. Even skulking in the night shadows, Rashed looked as

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