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returning home after an evening of ale with his guards, and as he cut through
an alley, he stumbled across the sight of a filthy street urchin with his
mouth on the throat of a sailor. When Ellinwood realized the urchin was
draining the sailor's blood, he cried out in alarm. The killer actually looked
up, hissed at him, dropped the sailor, and moved forward to attack. Three of
his guards, who were just leaving the tavern after him, heard their superior
call out and came running to investigate. The urchin vanished down the alley.
As he himself had been in mortal danger, Ellinwood set guards to searching
the town with vigor. A few of Miiska's citizens had come to him in the past
swearing that night creatures had taken a loved one. The constable had not put
much stock in such accounts until he'd seen this twisted little thing in the
alley drinking human blood. Stories of monsters and demons were common among
the sailors and merchants who traveled up and down the coast, passing through
strange and foreign lands. And didn't most myths come from some grain of
truth? The constable was determined to track down this murdering, possibly
unnatural, urchin.
The next night, a message arrived at the guardhouse an invitation. Ellinwood
gave in to curiosity and went down to the warehouse. Rashed greeted him and
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took him to a plush room of low couches, embroidered pillows, and exquisite
little rose-shaped candles. But Ellinwood did not take too much time admiring
the decor.
Even in the room's soft light, the constable could see something was not
quite right about his host. His skin was too pale for someone working a
warehouse on the docks of a port town, as if he'd not been in the sun for
months. And the man's eyes were almost colorless. His countenance seemed to
express no desires, no hunger for pleasures, no emotions at all.
Then a pretty young woman with chocolate-brown curls and a tiny waist
entered. She introduced herself as Teesha and smiled at Ellinwood, exposing
dainty pointed fangs. When Rashed looked at her, his empty expression changed
completely to one of longing and fierce protection, and the constable decided
to remain quiet and see where this meeting would lead.
Rashed offered Ellinwood twenty shares of the warehouse a virtual fortune to
look the other way if one of Miiska's citizens simply disappeared or was found
dead in some unnatural state. He related that such occurrences would likely
never happen, but then amended his comment to "very infrequently." In order
for this exchange to take place, he did not try to hide what he or Teesha
were. And while it took the constable a moment to absorb the fact that he was
speaking with two undead creatures, he did not flinch. He was no fool and did
not snub opportunity. Rather, he viewed himself as quite shrewd. If he did not
agree, he'd never leave the room alive. But as long as he kept his position as
town constable, he could keep Rashed's secret and merely pretend to
investigate disappearances or strange deaths. Not only would he retain his
stipend for living expenses, but he would also receive enough money to keep
his supply of Suman opiate and Stravinan spiced whiskey constantly filled. It
was a perfect arrangement.
Now Ellinwood reminded himself to clarify something with Rashed. Meetings
must take place in the warehouse. After all, he must retain some privacy. Yes,
he must clarify this at the first opportunity.
Feeling more at ease, the constable opened his wardrobe drawer again. He
mixed the opiate from the urn with the whisky in a long-stemmed crystal glass
and began to sip. Not long afterward, he was sitting in a damask-covered
chair, infused with pleasure, his mind drifting into bliss.
Chapter Seven
Teesha waited patiently down near the docks for the right drunken sailor to
pass by. The wonder and enormity of the ocean never ceased to please her,
especially at high tide. The shore was a wall between worlds that guided the
movement of all things between water and land along its lapping edge. She
walked in bare feet, occasionally digging delicate toes into the sand, not
caring if the hem of her purple gown dragged slightly and became soiled.
Many years ago, before her arrival in Miiska, one of the docks had collapsed
due to rotted support poles. On its way, it had pulled down a small two-masted
ship that couldn't be untied in time. Workers had dragged some of the remnants
from the water, and the remains of ship and dock lay a short way down the
shore. Perhaps they'd once thought to salvage materials from the accident, but
nothing had ever come of such plans. Now, piled high on the shore out of the
tide's reach, dock pillons and ship's struts stood up in the dark like the
remains of a beached sea monster left to rot away to the bones. Weatherworn,
but still partially solid, they offered a perfect haven. Teesha strolled
calmly around the columns, listening to the dark rather than seeing it and
periodically sniffing the breeze.
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Then came the scent of warm flesh nearby. She tensed in anticipation and
slipped behind a thick wood strut that could have been an old dock support or
maybe a ship's beam. Only appearing to the solitary, she would pull back into
the shadows if a pair or group approached. She peeked out carefully into the
wind.
A lone sailor made his way along the shore toward the harbor. Canvas breeches
with ragged unstitched hems hung to just below his knees, the salt-stained
garment held up with a rope belt. On his feet he wore only makeshift sandals
strapped at his ankles with leather thongs. His skin was dark from the sun,
but his face looked soft, with only the wisps of an adolescent beard.
Teesha did not rush into view but relaxed by the pole, waiting for him to
come nearer and see her. When he did, his step slowed only for a moment before
he turned his course toward her. No more than five arm's lengths away, he
stopped, staring at her pretty face, wild brown hair, and bare toes.
"Are you lost?" she asked him in a soothing tone that hummed behind the
sounds of light wind and waves. "You must be lost. Where is your ship?"
For an instant he frowned in puzzlement, thinking she was the one lost or
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