Cameo and the Vampire (7 page)

"We need supplies," Jules muttered.

She looked over at Opal, who was shivering, and then she moved up the hill and looked down Throop Street. It was a rather unsavory part of town they were coming up on, and that was probably for the best. The three of them were wanted for various crimes in Lockenwood, ranging from robbery to regicide. If caught, they could all be executed in varied ways. Jules, wanted for being an Association member and for supposedly killing locals, might just end up at the end of a rope, whereas she and Opal could be drawn and quartered. The idea of lingering in Lockenwood did not please her, but Jules did have a point. There was food, clothes, armor, weapons, and booze in this place. Walk a little further down the road toward Yetta, and one would find woods, wolves, graveyards, and an occasional cottage. If they were going to obtain supplies, they needed to do so here. The seedier the area, the better.

Opal and Jules followed.

The buildings in this part of Lockenwood were dark and packed tightly together. Once, the area had been a prosperous, bustling place, but that was years ago, and all of the once-beautiful homes had fallen into disrepair. It had been inherited by the poorest of the poor, the whores, the thieves, the lost souls drunk on gin lying in the gutters.

As they walked down the empty street, their footfalls echoed on the cobblestone. It didn't look like too many locals were interested in venturing outside. It was, after all, the middle of winter, and most people stayed cooped up indoors during the winter months.

"There." Cameo pointed to a small crudely painted sign, coated with snow. She brushed it off.
Coffin Nails
. She glanced back at the other two. "Coffin Nails Inn. Well, this should be interesting."

Just outside the door, they could hear the sound of intoxicated conversation, a game taking place, and laughter. As they entered the shack of a building, what had been boisterous conversation stopped.

It was rather crowded inside and hot. There was a roaring fire in the hearth, and the people inside were drunk and sweaty.

Cameo met the barkeep's eyes, and he was positively horrified as she did so. "We'll have what you're serving today and whatever you have to drink."

"Uh ... yes. Of course, of course."

Several other patrons who had been enjoying a table game scrambled out of their seats and left the table in the center of the room to the three of them.

"Well," Opal said as he slid into one of the empty chairs, "wasn't that amicable?"

"Very."

Jules had one hand on the hilt of the sword, procured from a royal guardsman, beneath his cloak.

Cameo ended up in the chair with her back to the rest of the room. "I don't care for this table."

"And here we are." The barkeep set down three plates and a lump of meat for them. It was bloody. Before anyone could complain, he left to fetch them some ale.

"It's raw," Jules hissed.

But Cameo cut herself a slab from the bloody carcass and moved it to her plate.

A moment later the barman returned with a second roast. "Oh, I must have grabbed the wrong thing from the back," the barman said, picking up the bloody meat. "It's so dark back there.... Uh, lady, did you want me to take that?"

Cameo held the plate on the table, watching him with her foggy, white eyes. "Leave it."

The man moved away hastily.

She stared down at the slab of freshly killed animal. Given the size, she suspected it was a goat, or maybe a dead dog. It lay there in one raw lump under the palm of her hand. The blood was more than just a smear on a razor's edge this time; it drained out onto the plate in a little pool ... a red that was nearly black against the dirty white plate.

Opal was seated opposite Cameo and surveyed the crowd of onlookers who had taken refuge in the furthest recesses of the tavern. The lot of them stood around the fireplace at the back. Some were staring, some attempting to forget about the little group that had just walked in.

"It is rather oppressive in here. My dear, would you remove this cloak?" When he glanced back at her, he saw the slab of meat was abandoned onto the tabletop, and Cameo holding the plate between her hands, assessing it.

He and Jules watched her with a sort of macabre fascination as she drank the blood from the plate. As she did so, the scar on her face faded until her skin was clean. Her irises turned blue for a moment and then returned to the cloudy corpse white.

She lifted her eyes with an odd expression, a mixture of intrigue and terror, her mouth and chin dripping blood.

Opal swallowed, "I've lost my appetite."

Jules had one chunk of roasted meat on a knife, poised on his plate, as he stared at her.

Looking up, she saw the shadows in the room. They were hanging over the people in there ... the shadow-men ... only they weren't shadows now; they were ghostly images. They had hollows for eyes and mouths, and they were looking at her intensely now. Eager to get closer.

Cameo stood up suddenly, waving at the ghosts with one arm as if she could make them disappear by fanning them.

The shades were so close now, one had his face in her face.

"Stop it! Leave me!"

And a moment later, they were gone.

Cameo turned her attention to the door, half expecting to see the shadow-men walking out, but instead she saw the clientele slinking out the door. She took a step back, stumbling over her chair.

The room was emptying out. The barkeep was missing.

"What did you see?"

She refocused on the table in front of her. Her companions were watching her, mouths open, waiting to see what odd thing she was going to do next. She saw Jules pull something from under his cloak.

"Nothing." Her voice was hoarse. She grabbed the end of the cloak Opal was wearing and wiped the blood from her mouth.

He watched her, a little worry line forming on his forehead. "Are you all right, my love?"

"Yes." She met his eyes and sat down slowly. "Put away your weapon, Jules."

He sort of smiled in acknowledgement but didn't do as she asked.

Her mouth was still bloodstained, but the scar that had been there was gone now. She seemed ... more fresh, her skin more human than she had before.

"This is because of Edel."

She met Jules' eyes, acknowledging the truth before she could stop herself.

"What did he do to you?" Opal asked with a note of wrath in his voice.

"Yes," Jules chimed in. "What exactly are we dealing with here? Should we don amulets of the sun as well?"

Cameo picked up the fork and knife on Opal's plate and cut his food for him. "As I understand it, one needs true faith to make that sort of thing turn a vampire, so I think you're pretty much screwed, Jules."

"Cameo—" Opal received a mouthful of food before he could finish what he was saying. He was hungry, so he chewed the roast in frustration, hoping to have the opportunity to speak, and then she forced another piece in.

"We have to get out of here."

"Are you safe to travel with?" Jules inquired, readjusting whatever weapon he had under his cloak.

She rolled her eyes. "If you don't want to travel with me, then leave."

He shifted in the chair and looked away.

"Are you ready to go, Opal?"

"Ale," he managed.

She proffered him a greasy mug.

Jules toyed with his sword now. "What do you think he did to you?"

She met him with a cold stare.

"You just drank a plate of blood. Are you a vampire?"

Cameo sat back in her chair uneasily and gazed at that lone slab of bleeding dog meat that remained lying there in front of her. "I don't know," she said quietly.

* * * * *

The assassin stared out at the gray sky, rubbing her hands together briskly.

"Why don't you go inside and find yourself a coat?" Jules was on the step of the tailor shop, where she'd made herself at home.

"Did you get some provisions?"

"Yes. Did you want to inspect them?"

"No, thank you." She looked around him, and as he noticed her lack of interest in him, he moved to one side. "I remember how well equipped you've been in the past."

He remembered it too. The last time he'd been in Lockenwood with a fully equipped pack, he had been planning on capturing her and returning her to Wick, but that hadn't turned out quite so well for him.

She lifted her flask to her mouth and took a swallow from it. It was extremely cold, and then, as if it wasn't something she'd planned on doing, she offered it, reluctantly, to Jules.

Surprised, he took the offering from her eagerly.

"We'll head out after Opal gets done in there."

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Going south?"

"Yetta ... I think."

He chuckled, "No more specific than that, hmm? Are you afraid I'll tell Haffef about your plans?"

She looked at him. Her expression reflected something wiser than the twenty-some years she appeared. "I know you'll tell him."

His smile vanished, and he looked down. "I can't help it."

"I know."

The wind sent a dusting of snow over the stoop.

He handed her back her flask. "Seems almost no point to drinking it anymore. I never get drunk. Do you?"

"Nope." She tucked it into her boot. "It tastes bad."

"Well, it's alcohol."

"I know what whiskey tastes like. I thought maybe it went bad, but you weren't disgusted by it—"

"Oh, you gave it to me because it you thought it has gone bad? Thanks."

She smirked and stared out at the sky again.

"Perhaps you prefer the taste of blood now, over the taste of alcohol?" he hissed, annoyed with her.

"If I do, Jules, I promise you'll be the first to know."

He sat down next to her and flipped his dark hair over one shoulder. "There are times when I think you're going to say something actually worthwhile. It just never seems to happen."

Cameo laughed quietly to herself. "How can one respond to that? Except perhaps in verse?"

"No!"

"Ah, yes, let's see if I remember it now. One of Bellamy Roucherquimp's best—"

"Don't."

'Round and 'round

the maypole

delusions of my past

shades

and mirrored memories

silhouettes and shadows

cast-

"It rhymes!" He jogged down the steps and then turned on her. "I warn you, I am armed."

"Yes, as am I ... with poetry ... and a dagger."

"And a sword."

"And a pistol. Oh, and another. Avamore's guards certainly were very generous with their loot."

Jules laughed and then sighed. "Is that fop ever coming out of there?"

"Well, I'm not leaving until he does."

He cursed Haffef silently.

* * * * *

"Who's the good doggy? What a good doggy."

Kyrian watched as Caith was knocked into a snow bank by a large black and tan dog.

"You really want this treat, hmm?"

"He's still playing with that mutt?" asked another young man of about Kyrian's age, sitting down beside him. He had long, kinky black hair, dark skin that contrasted with his white woolen coat, and a blue sash. Blue on white; these, Kyrian knew, were the colors of the Temple of the Sky.

"I think he might be smitten."

The man in the white coat laughed. "I could believe that. Those Temple of Faetta guys are so into animals ... and plants. I caught him healing a tree the other day. Or maybe it's just Caith. He seems a little crazy."

Kyrian turned to look at him. "You must be Carrington."

"Yeah, that's right," he said as he clasped the lad's hand in greeting. "And you're Kyrin?"

"Kyrian."

Carrington looked him over. "You don't seem like a funeral guy."

"Oh, no ... well, I had an apprenticeship at the Temple of the Moon, but I was planning on becoming a priest of the Sun. It was never really my intention to be a priest of the night.... It was just, my grandfather was, so I, I went to live with him and ended up studying there."

"Grandfather, hmm? Your grandfather was a priest? I didn't think they allowed that sort of thing."

"Yes, they do. He was a widower and joined later in life. Of course he couldn't heal, but he could perform funerals and that sort of thing."

"And your grandfather supported your plan to join the Temple of the Sun?"

"Yes," he smiled. "We talked of it quite often."

Carrington looked back out at Caith and the dog. "Are you still in touch with him?"

Kyrian thought of Cyrus, and instantly the spirit of his grandfather was beside him, one hand on his shoulder. "Yes."

"My mother is with me, as well," Carrington stated calmly. "She drives me crazy. Always worried I'm going to be injured in battle."

"You aren't a healer? I assumed everyone here was."

"No." He grinned. "I don't want to take those kind of vows. I'm a warrior; I destroy the undead, send them out of this world and to the dead realm they should be inhabiting. That is my purpose in life."

Kyrian was beginning to wish his grandfather had helped him with more of his studies. "I hadn't begun my studies at the Temple of the Sun—"

"No, Sage mentioned that to me. She said you weren't planning on becoming a priest now. I hope it's not since you saw our rag-tag little group here."

"No, it's not that."

"A lady?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's my downfall. Too many lovely ladies to tie myself to a vow of purity."

"Well.... Sort of."

"I knew it!" he laughed.

Kyrian lowered his eyes. He was actually thinking of Cameo, and he didn't want to. If he thought too hard, he knew he'd be able to pull her closer to him, and he didn't want her to join them. "So we're going to take on a vampire?"

Carrington stopped laughing. "Uh, yeah, yeah .... That's the plan."

"He lives in Ponth?"

"That's what the word is." He pointed down the road, "Just south of here. Lives in the woods they say."

"They?"

"The rural people. They are having the most trouble with him. He's settled in there recently, I gather, and now families are being callously slaughtered one at a time. There will be a funeral and the next night someone else is found dead, drained of his blood. That's how we heard of it, well, Sage heard. She could feel the sorrow coming out of that area, and then she investigated herself, and now she's called all of us to her."