Leesil knelt on the floor of his room, staring at the metal remnants of his first life, the life no one present knew about.
How many years had it been? He honestly couldn't remember. And he realized that his once honed and hated skills would now be needed again if he were to help Magiere at all, perhaps for her life's sake.
He snapped the box closed and shoved it inside his shirt. A soft scratching and whining at the door caught his attention.
"Chap?" He walked over and opened the door. "Come on in, boy."
Looking down, he saw the dog held a piece of the bloody shawl Caleb had removed from Beth-rae before dressing her for visitors and burial. Chap's transparent blue eyes shone with misery. He whined again and pushed at Leesil's foot with his paw.
Leesil crouched down, examining Chap in confusion. He knew dogs were capable of mourning in a fashion for people they had lost, but Chap had come to him with a specific piece of a dead woman's clothing.
"What is it? What do you want?"
It seemed ridiculous to ask a question of an animal. Then he realized that he didn't need to ask. He knew what the dog wanted. Chap wanted to hunt down Beth-rae's killer.
Footsteps on the stairs made both dog and half-elf look up.
"What's wrong with him?" Magiere asked, stepping off the stairs into the hallway, looking clean, calm, and in charge again.
Leesil ignored the question. "Where have you been?"
"Getting some answers." Then she noticed the scrap of cloth in Chap's jaws. Her brow wrinkled in confusion and revulsion. "Is that Beth-rae's shawl?"
"Yes." Leesil nodded. "He carried it up from the kitchen."
"Did the creature that killed Beth-rae touch it?"
"I don't know, but…"
Leesil hesitated. For whatever reason, Magiere was thinking along the same path that had occurred to him. Perhaps it was time to try what he'd had in the back of his mind since he'd first hidden away Ratboy's dagger, deciding not to turn it over to Ellinwood. He returned to his chest and picked up the blade Beth-rae's killer had left behind, careful not to touch the handle and foul any lingering scent.
"Here Chap, try this."
"Where did you find that?" Magiere snapped at him, reaching out for the blade. "And why didn't you show it to Ellinwood?"
Leesil pushed her hand away, shaking his head. "We know that little beggar boy certainly touched this, and Ellinwood doesn't have anyone like Chap."
"You should have told me," Magiere said. Following Leesil, she crouched down next to the dog.
"It was a gamble—my gamble," Leesil answered. "And what you didn't know, you couldn't be held accountable for."
He held out the dagger's handle, and Chap eagerly sniffed every inch of it.
"Do you think he can track for us?" Magiere asked.
"I don't know for certain," Leesil answered. "But, yes, I think he can."
She breathed in once. "Let's get ready as well. We don't have much time."
Leesil looked at her, puzzled.
"The sun will be setting soon," was the answer she gave to his unasked question.
Neither one of them said the word "vampire." While Magiere went to get her sword, Leesil broke his bedroom chair and fashioned the legs into makeshift stakes. He put them in the sack with his box and headed downstairs to gather further necessities for battle.
* * *
For quite a while after Magiere had left him, Welstiel remained sitting in his chair, searching mentally to pinpoint an uninvited presence. He had slowly studied every inch of the room, but so far only books and shelves and his table registered in his sharp eyes.
"I know you are here," he murmured, more to himself than the presence.
He sensed it. Why was it here, and what did it want? The three sparks of his orb cast a satisfactory amount of illumination. Perhaps more than that was needed.
"Darkness," Welstiel said, and the orb's sparks immediately extinguished.
With all light gone from the room, he immediately spotted a yellowish glow hovering in the far corner, but only for a moment. It vanished, leaving behind the faint emotional residue of fear and anger.
The possibilities were too varied for comfort in Welstiel's mind. It could have been anything from a spirit to an astral consciousness. But why? He closed his eyes and tried to feel for any kind of trail, any path in the residue of this unseen presence. The traces of fear and anger were gone. The presence had evaporated. He could follow nothing.
Welstiel frowned.
Chapter Twelve
Magiere crouched outside the huge shorefront warehouse, Leesil and Brenden