her no more disarrayed than she was after one of their old mock battles played at the expense of frightened villagers.
Beth-rae's throat was jaggedly torn from one side to the other. Leesil knew the weapon had been a dirty fingernail.
"It was him," he said finally, "that filthy beggar boy we fought on the road to Miiska." He didn't look at Magiere as he spoke. "He attacked us… or, actually Chap attacked him, but he climbed through that front window. Beth-rae threw something over him, and he started to scream, and his skin turned black."
"Garlic water," Caleb said softly, touching Beth-rae's hair.
"What?" Magiere asked.
"We've been keeping a cask of it in the kitchen," he answered flatly. "If you boil garlic for several days in water, it makes a weapon against vampires."
"Stop it," Magiere said harshly, stepping closer. "I don't want to hear it right now. Whatever they wanted, they were just men. Do you understand?"
For the first time since meeting her, Caleb looked at Magiere with something akin to open dislike on his face. He struggled to carefully lift his wife in his arms.
"If you stopped lying to yourself and dealt with the truth, maybe my Beth-rae wouldn't be dead."
He carried the body through the curtain to the kitchen. Chap followed, still whining.
Magiere slumped down to sit on the bottom stair and covered her eyes with her hands. Strands of her loose, messy hair caught in the drying blood on her chin.
"What's going on?" Leesil asked. "Do you know?"
"The man at the Vudrask River was the same," she said quietly.
"What are you talking about?"
"He was the same—pale, bones like rock, too strong— surprised my weapon hurt him. He was the same."
"You mean the same as the beggar boy on the road, the one in here tonight," Leesil added, growing more angry. "Something else you neglected to tell me, yes?"
He took several deep breaths. Shouting at her would do nothing to help the situation, so he turned away. He wanted a drink and walked to the bar, found his old cup, and filled it.
"I can't feel them now," Magiere said, and Leesil looked up to see her hesitantly running one fingertip across the tops of her teeth, slowly, one by one. She pulled her hand away. "Maybe you just imagined—"
"I imagined nothing!" Leesil said, his voice growing louder on each word. He slammed the cup down on the bar and walked back to crouch before her. 'This is not just something in your head and certainly not in mine."
His hand reached up quickly, about to grab her jaw. Magiere started to pull away, but then remained still, staring at him. At first, her features were flat and emotionless at the closeness of his hand, and then they shifted. The look on her face told Leesil she was defying him to find again what he thought he'd seen.
Leesil moved carefully. Magiere did not open her mouth, but she did not resist as he gently pressed his fingers on her lower jaw to open it. He didn't touch her teeth, because he didn't need to. There was no sign of the elongation of her eyeteeth. Leesil let his hand drop away from her face, but he did not look away.
"We have to inform the constable about the attack," he said. "Word is going to spread soon enough about Beth-rae's death."
Magiere sank back, eyes closing slowly.
"Leesil?" a tiny voice called from the top of the stairs.
Magiere's eyes snapped open. "Rose?" she said softly, turning to look up.
A small form in a muslin nightdress rubbed her eyes and yawned.
Leesil took the stairs two at a time.
"Where's Grandma and Grandpa?" Rose asked, half awake. Her lower lip quivered slightly. "I heard noisy things in the dark."
"You had a bad dream." Leesil grabbed Rose quickly, but gently, and picked her up, holding her against his shoulder.
"Where's Grandma?"
"People who sleep in my bed never have bad dreams," he answered. "It's too big and soft. Would you like to sleep there?"
She blinked again, trying hard to keep her eyes open for the moment. "Where will you sleep?"
"I'll sit in the chair and watch over you until the sun comes up. All right?"
She smiled, clutching at his hair as she put her head in the crook of his neck. "Yes. I'm afraid."
"Don't be." Before turning toward his room with the weary child, he looked down. Magiere stood at the bottom of the stairs, leaning heavily against the railing for support. His voice was sweet and light as he whispered to the