© 1999,2001,2003 Watts Martin

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Shattered Stone

Watts Martin

It had been a long time since she had been in Pravell. As she studied the gaudily ornate tourist marketplace sprawling over the lot her parents’ house had stood on, she wondered whether it had been too long, or not long enough.

She didn’t know when Groveport had become a mecca for sightseers; so far she had seen no dazzling architecture or wondrous natural landmarks that had sprung up in the last—what was it?—seven decades.

Or was it eight?

Sighing, she threaded her way between the crowded but supernaturally clean stalls of the marketplace, her footfalls on the slate blue terrazzo tiles completely unheard over the din. No shoppers spared her more than a glance, even though her tall figure was (by the standards of her own species and those of many others in Ranea) beautiful, and her ruffled white shirt and midnight black knee-length skirt should have made her stand out in any crowd. But she was not in the mood to be seen, and that was enough to make her almost invisible to people with ordinary, or merely above average, perception.

She stopped to buy a small cup of espresso at a gourmet coffee stand. The human server’s eyes lit up when he spoke to her, and she could tell he was studying her in his most subtle—by his standards—manner. It was open to question how many other women would have picked up on it; he was good at playing the game. She allowed him to believe she was oblivious, but felt too weary to engage him beyond flashing a little cleavage as she picked her cup off the counter. He was professional enough that he seemed to barely notice. He would think of her as merely cute, like most humans thought of zoomorphs—especially Rilima, the “mouse-people” like herself. Under other circumstances she might take time to teach him the error in that thinking, not necessarily in a way he would find enjoyable.

Another moment’s walk took her to an inner courtyard, its space broken by small, exotic trees and wooden benches whose stark, one-piece design stood at ugly odds with the excessive decoration of the market’s inlaid tile floor, arched sides and high ceiling. She sat down on one of the benches, judging it to be within five feet of where her bed had been all those years ago, and sipped the espresso. It was as good as its vendor had proclaimed, although she would have expected no less for almost two vars.

Vanya brushed her long, raven hair back over her ears with her free hand and leaned against the cool wood. Returning had been a whim, as had all her travel for many years; she stayed in a place until it wore thin with her, or she with it, and moved somewhere else—always to another major city. She didn’t like small towns. They were too difficult for an outsider to fit into without spending more time than she had patience for, although certainly not more than she had. But unlike the others of her kind she’d met, she had steadfastly refused to forget the value of timekeeping.

But this was the first time such a whim had brought her back to Groveport. Perhaps she had been avoiding it; the thought brought a small smile to her face. There was something she found deeply ironic in the possibility she was superstitious.

The sun had started to set before she had left her hotel room; as she sat on the bench, looking out across the market, the only sign of the fading day was a pink glow behind a row of storefronts across the street. The street itself looked much the same as she remembered it, but none of the stores were the same. Back then most of them would be closing for the evening, but as the light in the air seeped away it was replaced by light in the windows, and the pedestrian traffic seemed to be increasing rather than thinning. At some point in the last seventy years, Groveport had acquired a night life.

She turned her attention to the crowd surrounding her in the marketplace. Its composition was as different from the crowd she would have expected back then as the street was. Pravell’s population had been mostly Rilima, with the ubiquitous humans coming in a none-too-close second. Now the mix was as evenly balanced as she might expect in a more cosmopolitan northern Orinthe town.

Closing her eyes, Vanya considered her plans.

Your kind doesn’t make plans, she thought wryly. You just find someone to amuse yourself with, then go on to another, so your life can continue as a series of quick, disconnected relationships. It was an unlovely truth, but it represented a better life than any alternatives she foresaw.

Vanya finished the espresso, opened her eyes and looked around for someone amusing.

However, someone else with the same idea had apparently seen her a split-second before.

A Vraini child, perhaps eleven years of age, stood off to one side of the courtyard, looking directly at her. He was cute, although she had very rarely seen fox cubs who couldn’t be described that way; he stood just a bit over four feet high, and possessed big, bright yellow-green eyes partially obscured by a lock of stray head fur. His grey denim shorts and eggshell tunic-like shirt showed signs of age, and needed a good washing—as, she suspected, did the child himself.

She looked away, absently crumpling the espresso cup in her hand. While Vanya did not have a real dislike for children, they made her uncomfortable. Being back in Groveport had set her slightly on edge to begin with, and so the cub’s presence was all the more disquieting: the combination brought images she had spent most of her life trying to bury back to the surface of her consciousness.

The tactic didn’t work on the child, though; after another moment passed, he made a beeline for her bench. When he was within touching distance of it, she acknowledged his presence by inclining her head slightly, without meeting his eyes.

“Hi,” he said after a moment.

Vanya nodded, toying with the cup’s bent paper remains.

He licked his lips, obviously trying to decide how to interpret that. “I have a flower,” he said after a few more moments passed.

She sighed almost inaudibly, resigning herself to the child’s attempt at conversation, and half-turned toward him. He was fishing in his pocket intently. A second’s search produced a faded yellow rose, in much the same shape as Vanya’s espresso cup. He handed it to her solemnly.

“You haven’t taken very good care of your flower,” she pronounced, holding it up in front of her face. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He blinked, his ears folding back; that wasn’t the sort of thing adults were supposed to say when cute children handed them objects, no matter how soiled the object might be. “Where’d you get it?”

“Char’s rose bush.” He pronounced the name as if it were short not for Charlotte but for charbroiled.

“Does she know?”

“Uncle Char,” he said, sounding slightly hurt.

“Does he know?”

The child shrugged, and shifted from one foot to the other.

Vanya handed the rose back to him as solemnly as he had given it to her.

“What’s your name?” he said, still staring at her face.

She turned to face him fully. “Do you expect to see me regularly, child?”

He blinked, his ears folding back against his head again.

“If you don’t, I’m not sure we need to be on a first-name basis.” She brushed a lock of her own hair back into place.

“I’m Planvi,” he offered.

Vanya stopped herself from responding what a truly dreadful name. “I see. Planvi, isn’t it a bit late for you to be out by yourself?”

“Nuh-uh,” he said, shaking his head. “Uncle Char says it’s okay.”

“You have an odd uncle, Planvi,” Vanya sighed.

“Would you like to meet him?”

She started to say something dismissive, then stopped and considered. There was a chance, even if a small one, that Char might be someone interesting enough to spend some time on. If not, she might be able to get some amusement from convincing him his way with children needed work.

“Perhaps,” she said at length.

“You make me think of him.”

“Oh?” She cocked her head. “In what way would that be?”

“Your eyes,” he said, studying her with unabashed intensity.

“He has brown eyes?”

Planvi shook his head, causing more fur to fall in front of his own eyes. “No.”

“I see,” she said again, wondering whether or not she really did. “Is he here in the marketplace?”

“Nuh-uh. But he’ll be here later.”

She nodded. “Well. Perhaps I’ll see him then.”

Almost a full minute passed, in which Vanya remained silent and motionless, and Planvi’s eyes remained wide and locked onto her. Finally, she looked back at him, matching the intensity of his stare, then surpassing it. The fox dropped his own gaze, and shuffled his feet nervously.

“You live with your uncle, then?” she said.

Planvi shook his head, without looking up. “Nuh-uh. I live with my daddy.”

“Char’s brother?”

Another shake.

Vanya drummed her nails on the side of the bench. “Then he’s a family friend?”

“Daddy doesn’t like Char.” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “He doesn’t know I spend much time with him.”

She lapsed into silence again, trying to make sense of this new information.

Her attention was drawn away by the sound of a man calling Planvi’s name. Looking up, she saw a male Vraini, about five and a half feet tall—a bit short for the species—pushing his way through the market crowd.

“Oh,” Planvi said, his ears drooping. “That’s Daddy.”

Vanya nodded, then concentrated on the man, just for a moment. The fox immediately turned to look in her direction, another shout of his son’s name frozen in his muzzle, and stared, closing his mouth slowly. Then he realized Planvi was standing next to the object of his sudden fascination, and hurried toward them.

“Planvi!” he said again as he approached, his tone a mix of sharp anger and grateful, desperate relief. “Don’t you know how worried I was about you?” He caught up the little fox in his arms as he spoke, giving him a tight hug. Planvi squirmed, protesting incoherently.

She took the opportunity to study him as he hugged his child. His reddish fur was a little darker than his son’s, his eyes a darker green, and his muzzle was oddly mottled, giving him a salt- and-pepper look that was more distinctive than truly attractive. Even so, his build was good, well-proportioned, with a muscular chest, lean arms, and an extraordinarily plush tail he obviously took a great deal of pride in. He wore simple clothes, grey corduroy slacks and a faded blue button-down shirt. A necklace hung around his neck, a gold chain supporting a sun amulet that Vanya recognized as symbolic of the Vraini species religion.

“Where have you been?” His father held Planvi up at arm’s length, looking into his eyes reproachfully.

“Talking to the pretty mouse lady.”

“Planvi, you’ve been gone since yesterday afternoon. You can’t have been talking to the pretty mouse lady that long.”

Planvi lowered his eyes, his bushy tail drooping.

“You’ve been with Char again, haven’t you?” His father kept his voice calm, but there was a strained undertone as he set the little fox down on the bench. Planvi remained silent.

Sighing, the elder Vraini shook his head, then turned to Vanya. “Thank you for finding him.”

“I didn’t find him,” she replied, extending a hand. “He found me.”

The fox blinked, the mannerism making him appear almost identical to Planvi for an instant, then took her hand and shook it. He looked into her eyes, and his grip loosened slightly, as if he was forgetting what he was doing. Vanya wondered if she had hit him with her brief charm harder than she had meant to, or if he was simply very susceptible to it. “Thank you anyway,” he said, a smile brightening his face considerably. “I’m Rin Lawson.”

“Vanya,” she said, letting go of his hand. He paused, blinking again, then nodded when it became obvious she was not volunteering a last name.

“You wouldn’t tell me,” Planvi muttered under his breath.

“That is because you are cute when you’re flustered, little fox,” she said, touching him on the nose with a fingertip. He stared at the finger crosseyed for a moment, then glowered, his ears folding back.

“Well.” Rin turned back toward his son, and placed his hands on his hips. “I think we’re going to have to have a talk about you and Char, young man.”

“Why don’t you like Uncle Char, Daddy?” Planvi refused to meet his father’s eyes.

Rin kneeled before his son, tilting Planvi’s muzzle so he was forced to look down at his face. “I just don’t trust him, Planvi. I don’t know why he likes you—”

“He likes me because he’s my friend,” Planvi snapped, his voice rising.

“That’s not what I meant,” Rin said, his voice a little desperate. “I just think he’s… I don’t know. There’s something that just isn’t right about his interest in you.”

Planvi sniffled.

“Look, we can talk about this at home—”

The little fox jumped off the bench. “I don’t wanna leave! Char’ll be here, not at home!” He bolted past Rin, who was too startled to grab at him. Vanya leaned forward and caught Planvi’s wrist as he went past her, then leaned back again; he wailed, nearly falling over, and waved his other arm frantically for balance. “Leggo!” he shrieked.

“Thank you,” Rin said, taking Planvi’s other arm, then hugging his son to him protectively, causing more shrieks of protest. He looked over at Vanya again. “You move quite fast.”

“I have good reflexes,” she said quietly, flashing an enigmatic smile.

“I wanna see Uncle Char!” Planvi wailed.

“You’ve seen him quite enough, I think,” Rin responded, his tone growing sharper than it had been. “Tonight you’re going to be safe in your bed.” Vanya noted he placed a small, unconscious emphasis on the word safe.

“Can’t we just—”

“No, we can’t, honey.” Rin sighed, and addressed Vanya again, although his attention was still focused on his child. “I’m sorry about all this. He’s normally quite well-behaved.”

“He had been quite well-behaved until you showed up,” she observed quietly.

Rin looked across at her, his expression confused.

Vanya shook her head. “It’s not a reflection on you. It is a conflict between ideas—the idea that Planvi has of this Char, and the idea that you have of him.” She leaned forward toward Planvi. “Let me ask a question of you, child. Why do you like Uncle Char as much as you do?”

Planvi pouted. “I just do.”

“Does he give you gifts?”

He shook his head.

“Play games with you?”

Planvi shook his head again, less emphatically. “Well, sometimes.”

Rin cleared his throat.

Vanya leaned back in her bench, looking up at him coolly. “Am I intruding into your parental affairs?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m… just curious about your interest.”

“I don’t like to let mysteries remain unsolved.”

“Oh.” He nodded, looking uncertain, then shook his head.

“The more I learn of this ‘Uncle Char,’ the more mysterious he seems to be.”

“You don’t have to get involved.”

She shrugged. “I’m not, currently.”

“Can I spend time with you?” Planvi suddenly said, looking over at Vanya. Rin looked down at his son in alarm, then over at the mouse, then back at Rin.

Vanya laughed softly. “Why would you ask me that, Planvi? You don’t know me.”

He shuffled from one foot to the other, and looked down.

“I’m sorry,” Rin said again, sounding even more flustered.

She stood up. “Don’t be,” she said, touching him lightly on the wrist. He stiffened, as if she had just shocked him, and stared into her face; then his eartips turned red.

Vanya guessed that whatever Rin’s life might be like, it was empty of companionship other than Planvi. Whatever effect her little charm might have had on him had been overwhelmed by the less supernatural but far stronger effect of a beautiful woman paying attention to a lonely father and his son.

While he was attractive and pleasant enough, she could ill afford a serious—as serious as she was capable of, at least—relationship with him: lonely people were often afraid, and had enough demons of their own to deal with already. She had chosen a new companion badly and found herself in a destructive relationship in the past, and it was never good for her and often worse for the companion. Planvi’s presence made her unwilling to risk such an outcome with Rin.

Planvi suddenly stood up on his toes, and waved frantically. Rin looked in the direction his son’s gaze was pointing, and let out a soft growling noise.

Vanya looked and saw nothing unusual, until one of the figures started making its way toward them. It was a male human, thin enough to be called gaunt, with unkempt black hair and sunken brown eyes, dressed in a fashionable low-collar shirt and slacks, each in a slightly different muted shade of green.

She immediately knew this was Char, and understood Planvi’s fascination with him—and why she reminded the little fox of the human. Perhaps, she thought regretfully, she should get involved after all.

Vanya touched Rin on the shoulder before Char approached within hearing range. “I’m staying at the Grand, in room 306,” she said softly.

He turned toward her, his eyes widening a little. “Er—”

She smiled slightly. “Just in case you want to contact me. I’m usually there in early evenings. And very early mornings.”

Rin still looked curious, but Char had reached them. When his gaze touched Rin, the human smiled thinly, enjoying the fox’s obvious distaste for him.

“Hi! Hi!” Planvi squealed, continuing to wave.

“Hello.” Char smiled more openly, but there was something false in it to Vanya’s eyes. The human’s eyes flickered over the mouse as he turned; they showed no sign of recognition, hostile or otherwise.

Vanya sat back, studying him with slightly narrowed eyes as he ruffled Planvi’s fur. What did a vampire want with the little fox? His intent was obviously more than simply feeding on him. A pedophile? Quite possibly. Many vampires would try any pleasure, regardless of its perceived morality; few indeed would see anything wrong with seducing a child.

But Char was obviously a new vampire; his clothes, dress, manner of carrying himself, the consciously sibilant undertone to his voice all contributed to the “dark stranger” image many vampires were fascinated with when they first accepted the curse. Some kept that image for decades, but Char felt neither experienced nor particularly corrupt.

His expression was not lascivious, not even a hint in his eyes. Rin’s eyes, however, were filled with dislike and distrust. The elder fox cleared his throat. “Planvi, we’re going to have to be going.”

“Aw,” Planvi said, kicking at the air. “I want to—”

“You can see me another time,” Char said, his smile widening slightly as he stood up.

“We’ll talk about it,” Rin said tersely, beginning to walk away.

“I think your son enjoys my company more than he does yours, Rin,” Char said softly, his grin remaining in place.

The fox glowered, hurrying past the human.

He blinked after a moment, nodded, and moved into the crowd even faster.

When Vanya returned her attention to Char, he was studying her curiously. “Yes?” she said quietly.

“I don’t know that I’ve… had the pleasure of your acquaintance,” he said, smiling with a calculated charm.

“You haven’t.” She leaned forward, folding her hands in her lap. “What’s your interest in the child?”

For a fleeting moment, his expression fell. The charming smile had been accompanied by a slight magic push, similar to what Vanya had given Rin; he had not considered the possibility she might resist. “What’s yours?” he countered.

“I have personal reasons for making sure children stay safe, Char.”

“What makes you think I want to hurt him?”

“Just say I’m suspicious by nature.”

“Then just say you’ve made a mistake,” he snapped, losing some of his cool demeanor.

“Perhaps. But I don’t think so.”

He sat down on the bench next to her. “I’m rather perceptive, myself,” he said, his voice returning to its more calculated charm.

Vanya sighed heavily, feeling his attempt at calming her with magic, trying to take down her guard. His charm was not precisely awkward, but it was mechanical, dry; she suspected the idea he could be a bit more creative in magically-assisted seduction hadn’t even presented itself to him.

She grabbed hold of his charm and twisted it. Char screamed and fell over, almost into her lap, as if she had just given a leash around his neck a vicious tug. “If you were perceptive, you’d have known better than to try that on me, human,” she said softly, grabbing his hair and yanking his head up by it. “I am not for you to play with.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he spluttered, pulling back. Vanya let him go easily; she could tell it was still what he expected. The idea that she might be more than she appeared had been planted, all right, but the idea that she might be more than a match for him was still far from his mind. For the present time, it was best that illusion continued.

“Let’s try again from the top.” She sat back, and folded her arms across her chest. “What is your interest in Planvi?”

“I like children,” he snapped back. “I’m not trying to hurt him, no matter what his father thinks. I’ve always liked children.” His tone was angry and baffled, which is what she had wanted. She had found most people, including unpracticed vampires, were more sincere when they were too upset to focus on lies and sidesteps.

“And you just want to be his friend.”

“Is that so difficult to believe?”

She shrugged slightly. “Why does his father distrust you, then?”

“Because he’s being overprotective.”

“Maybe he’s being wise.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you accusing me of lying?”

“Perhaps.”

“Insulting me might not be wise, mouse-girl.” His tone dropped to a threatening hiss. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

Vanya regarded him quietly for a moment, then stood up, laughing almost merrily. She laid a hand on his shoulder, still smiling. “No, Char. I know precisely what I’m dealing with. Are you sure you can say the same?”

She stepped away into the crowd before he responded. She could sense the moment when he stopped being able to track her; the feeling of baffled rage he projected gave her a sense of grim amusement. It was obviously the first time his powers had been balked, and he seemed completely taken aback by the demonstration of their limits.

Whoever Char’s mentor was, he or she had not done a good job of preparing him to be a vampire. But Vanya had learned that was the norm. Most vampires survived, some for a long length of time, without ever really understanding their powers. Very few learned to control them, either, but those ones rarely lasted long.

The marketplace was left behind in a moment. Vanya scanned the streets around her, and headed down a slightly seedier one than any of the ones she remembered from her childhood. The bar she approached was as seedy as the street, eschewing the more tasteful wooden pub signs for a backlit glass sign in the window advertising THE GREY GRYPHON, with the logo of a popular local beer prominently featured over the name. The front door was propped open; she stepped inside, looking around curiously.

It wasn’t as bad as she had expected, but it wasn’t much better. The floor was bare stone, as were two of the walls; the back wall was brick, and the front was only wood. The tables were small, low affairs, round and rickety, with chairs that looked like they had been found on scavenger hunts scattered around them in a haphazard fashion. The air was thick with people, the smell of alcohol and the smoke from a half-dozen types of leaves burning in pipes and rolled papers.

She sat down at the bar, waiting for the bartender to notice her. It didn’t take very long at all. “Do you have any sangria?” she inquired softly.

He nodded, immediately producing a pitcher from somewhere underneath the bar.

A sip revealed it to be drinkable, if unexceptional. She was surprised the bar had even heard of the drink; it was from off- dimension, and very few bars outside of Raneadhros knew of it.

Only ten minutes passed before a young human slid into the seat next to her, nodding politely and smiling. She nodded back, watching him out of the corner of her eye. His observation of her was far less subtle; after another minute passed, she half- expected him to start drooling into his beer.

“You know, you’re very attractive,” he finally forced out.

“Yes,” she said, taking another sip of her sangria.

He laughed, a little uneasily. “Well, I was… er… ” He faded out, staring into his beer.

“Wondering if I found you attractive?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yes.”

This time he just smiled, looking a little too uneasy to laugh.

She turned to study him more openly. He had dirty blond hair, thinning a bit prematurely, but an otherwise handsome, boyish face; his outfit was all black, complete with leather jacket. “You look like someone who wants to come across as quite sure of himself,” she observed.

“I do,” he acknowledged. “Most of the time I am.”

“And are you sure of anything now?”

He looked down, seeming to consider his response, then looked back up, his expression that of a bad actor trying to look cocky. “I’m sure if you spent an evening with me, it’d be an amazing time.”

Vanya sighed, finishing as much of the sangria as she cared to and leaving the payment plus a healthy tip on the bar. “Yes, I’m sure it would.” She smiled slightly, and started to walk away.

The human reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Well?”

She looked down at his hand, controlling her immediate reaction to grab it and twist it off. “Well, what?” she said tightly.

“Are you interested?”

She knocked his hand away, and turned. “I really don’t think—”

“Just give me a try.” He stood up, trying to take her hand again.

Vanya looked up at him, and laughed, shaking her head. She led him out of the bar.

* * *

The sun had not yet set when a hesitant tapping came at her door the next evening. Vanya had barely finished dressing; she had slept a bit later than she had intended.

She knew it would be Rin when she opened the door; he was the only person in town she had given her room number to so far. She gestured him in silently, closing and locking the door behind him. He nodded, mumbling a vague greeting, and sat down on the bed, hunching over forward and fidgeting.

“What’s the trouble?” she said without preamble, heading back into the bathroom.

“Planvi’s gone,” he said, his voice uneven.

“That seems to be a common problem, Rin.”

He closed his eyes. “Look. I may not be the Empire’s best father, but I’m doing my best.” He bit his lip, and looked across at her again. “What did you think of Char?”

“I don’t know what he wants with Planvi.” She brushed her hair out as she spoke. “I do believe him when he says that he doesn’t have anything evil in mind for the child.”

Rin looked down at the carpet. “Then you think it’s all right for him to spend time with Char?”

“That’s not what I said.” She came back out into the room, and sat near Rin. “Why do you distrust the human as much as you do?”

“Because I’m… worried about losing my son,” he said, almost whispering.

“Then there’s nothing in Char that makes you worried?”

He shook his head. “There’s a lot that does. I just don’t know how to describe it. He’s… he makes me very nervous. The way he looks. The way he acts. We never see him during the day, he keeps Planvi up all night. There’s just something… it’s like…” He trailed off.

“Like?”

Rin sighed, and stood up. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

Vanya just arched an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Like he’s a demon.”

“Do you think he is one?”

He shook his head slowly, then sighed. “No. I know it’s just the way I’m looking at him.”

“Maybe you’re looking at him correctly, Rin.”

The Vraini snapped his head up, staring at her, his mouth slightly open. After a moment, he closed it again, but his voice quavered when he spoke. “I thought… you said you didn’t think he wanted to hurt Planvi.”

“I don’t think he does. But that’s no guarantee that he won’t.” Vanya sighed. “Do you know where Char stays?”

Rin nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes locked on Vanya’s. “I’ve been… afraid to go there.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said, standing up. “He doesn’t want you there.”

He dropped his eyes to the bed, and fidgeted. “It’s more than that, but—”

“I know,” Vanya said curtly, cutting him off. “I’ll go alone if you don’t want to go with me. Just tell me where it is.”

“He’s my son.” Rin stood up and took her hand, then looked down at her curiously. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“I’m doing it for Planvi,” she replied, shutting and locking the door behind her. She led him down the hotel’s tastefully carpeted hall and down the wide staircase.

“That’s not quite an answer.”

“No,” she agreed. “I’d rather not go into details now.”

He nodded, then came to an abrupt halt at the second floor landing. A young human male, eyes bloodshot and sunken into a tear-stained face, sat in a chair against one corner, huddled under a black leather jacket as if it were a blanket. When he saw Rin and Vanya, he shrank back, wide-eyed, and began to tremble violently.

“What—” Rin started, leaning toward the man.

Vanya tugged the fox along impatiently. “We can send a bellhop up after him on our way out.”

* * *

As Rin led her toward Char’s apartment, Vanya realized she had been in this section of Groveport before.

It was not an unpleasant section of town; in fact, it was still rather upscale, just as it had been so long ago. The streets were lined with attractive two- and three-story townhouses, most of which had hardly been new the last time she had seen them. Thin but stately trees protected the wide sidewalks from the brick roadway. Even the pale glow from the streetlamps seemed to contribute to the area’s dignified atmosphere.

“You seem nervous,” Rin said quietly. “That’s something I had begun to think you were incapable of.”

Vanya looked up at him. “Memories,” she said. “I used to live near here.”

“Really?” He smiled, a little self-consciously. “When?”

“A long, long time ago.” She looked around, and focused on a particular tree. “I remember having picnic lunches under that tree.”

“That seems like a rather… urban place to have a picnic.”

“I was a rather urban child.” She shook her head. “I’ve put most of my other memories of this place behind me, but I can still remember sitting under that tree, feeling the sun on my fur.”

“Maybe some afternoon we can have a picnic there.”

Vanya smiled; the unnerving quality her smile usually carried was replaced this time by a sad wistfulness. “How close are we?”

“Very close.” He pointed to a townhouse on the corner.

The mouse frowned. “You’re sure?”

He nodded, and looked at her curiously. “Don’t tell me that used to be your apartment.”

“No. I knew the person it… belonged to.”

“A friend?”

“The source of most of the memories I’ve tried to forget.”

Rin took her hand and squeezed it gently. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I have even more reason to do it now.” She picked up her pace.

When they got within fifty feet of the building’s edge, she stopped, holding Rin back, and seemed to study the walls for a few seconds.

Rin blinked, rubbing one of his ears. “That was odd,” he murmured.

“You felt that?”

“It felt like my ears popped.” He looked down at her curiously.

“There was a ward to keep you away, Rin.” Vanya began walking, more slowly, toward the building.

“You dispelled it?”

She nodded, then looked at him. “It was also set up to let Char know if you triggered the ward.”

“So he’d know I was coming?”

“The chances are you would have been too overcome by fear to ever reach the door. It was set up that way so he’d be able to enjoy your distress.”

Rin shook his head, and followed her closely. “I didn’t know you were a magician.”

“I don’t advertise it.”

“But he’ll know you’re one now, won’t he?”

“If he hasn’t already figured out at least that much about me, Rin, this will be much easier than I’m expecting it to be. But I consider Char only naive, not stupid.”

The fox swallowed hard, keeping his eyes fixed on the door ahead of them. “You’re making me almost as nervous as that magic was supposed to, Vanya.”

She laughed softly. “I’m not expecting any violence this visit.”

“You’re expecting to make more than one visit?”

“I’d like to believe Char’s residence in this particular building is a coincidence,” she replied, striding ahead of him up to the door. “But I don’t.” She rapped on the wood hard, three times.

“You keep answering questions in ways that not only don’t really answer them, but just lead to more questions,” he muttered. She flashed him an irritated look, motioning him to be silent.

While Rin stood tensed almost as if for battle, the woman who opened the door seemed anything but combative. She was a black-furred Melifen, dressed only in a diaphanous nightgown whose design accented her figure rather than hid it. Her feline tail curled around her leg as she regarded Vanya with a serenely vacant expression. “Yes?” she slurred after a few seconds had passed.

“We’re here for Planvi.”

The cat woman smiled, her expression focusing on Vanya just long enough for her to break into a giggle. “You’re a mouse.”

Vanya’s expression remained patient. “Is Planvi here?”

“Who’s Planvi?”

“The little fox.”

She blinked, then fell silent, her expression becoming one of intense concentration.

Rin took Vanya’s hand, standing rigid, looking at the Melifen. Vanya followed his gaze. It was not aimed at the vapid beauty’s ill-concealed chest, but at her neck. The mouse had already noticed the small wounds there, but she had known to look. The Vraini had likely only noticed when the woman had turned, dislodging the fur she had tried to comb over the puncture marks. She squeezed his hand, mindful to keep her strength in check; somewhere she had learned most people found that action reassuring.

“Ma’am,” Rin started.

The cat waved him to be quiet. “Little fox,” she said, her tone puzzled. She lapsed back into silence, her expression remaining almost comically intense.

Vanya sighed. “We’ll just go in and look around.” She gently pushed the woman to one side.

“I think—” the cat began, then fell silent once more.

“And by all means keep at it,” Vanya said pleasantly, pulling Rin into the hall. The Melifen woman blinked at them curiously.

Still holding his hand, Vanya led Rin down the short hallway. The walls, floor and even ceiling were made of dark, almost black wood, polished fine enough that Rin could almost make out his own reflection in them as they passed under the dim oil lamps. “There’s likely to be someone in the den. It was the most comfortable room,” Vanya said, her voice almost a whisper. Without warning, she stepped into an opening to the right. Rin followed, his motion compelled by her strong grip.

Planvi’s voice came before the cub was in sight. “Mouse!” he said, running up toward Vanya. “Are you and daddy here to visit Uncle Char?”

The room beyond the opening retained the fireplace, the wood panelling and even the ugly crystal chandelier Vanya remembered it with, and while the carpeting was new, it was a near-identical shade of burgundy. All of the furnishings save for the antique oak bar had been replaced—the faded, rounded and gilded designs that had seemed a touch old-fashioned seventy years ago had been transformed into the wildly ornate, over-rendered imitations of century-old styles that characterized modern “nostalgic” replicas. Vanya’s family had owned many original pieces of the sort these claimed to be faithful reproductions of, but where the originals had been subdued, couches with gently rounded wooden lines and comfortable padded cushions, the new ones had flourishing, uselessly intricate designs wasting space in the corners and along the legs, ridiculously overstuffed backs and seats covered with a type of velvet that had only been imported to this part of Ranea for the last thirty years.

Char had been sitting in one of these pretentious monstrosities, his feet propped up on an oval glass-top table with decorative gold trimmings dripping off its frame. He was rising to his feet as they entered, trying for an expression that combined annoyance and unflappability. It almost worked, but—at least to Vanya’s eyes—still left a trace of nervousness.

“Hello, Planvi,” she said, kneeling down and smiling at the little fox. “We’re really here to visit you.” She brushed his hair back with a hand, glancing down at his neck as she touched him.

“I wasn’t planning on extra guests,” Char said.

Vanya didn’t look up. “To get the tone you’re trying for, you’ll need to pull back on the sarcasm a bit. You want just a hint, so people aren’t sure whether or not you’re really being rude.”

Char started to reply, but Planvi giggled, cutting him off. She smiled, more openly than usual. “People don’t usually laugh at me, little fox. I think I make them too nervous.”

“You don’t make me nervous,” Planvi asserted, a touch of pride in his voice.

“That’s because you’ve been spending time with the wrong crowd,” Vanya said, batting him on the head lightly with two fingers.

“Very droll,” Char said.

Vanya stood up. “Are the new furnishings your touch?” she inquired, looking at Char for the first time since she had entered.

“They belong to the house’s owner.”

She folded her arms across her chest and nodded, looking away.

“You know, they’re here to take you back to your father’s, Planvi,” the human said, looking at the little fox. “Is that what you want?”

“I like it here!” Planvi said, his expression suddenly alarmed.

“I’d prefer modern furniture myself,” Vanya said calmly. “I’ve found it’s better to keep up with the times than to live in the past.”

“You can stay if you like,” Char said, smiling at Planvi but flicking a glance at Rin.

“No, you can’t,” Rin said, trying to reach for his son’s hand. “Planvi—” But the little fox pulled away from him.

“Planvi!” he said, his voice sharper.

Char continued smiling, and extended an open hand toward Planvi, palm up.

The little fox looked back and forth between his father and the human. Then he walked over and put his hand in Char’s, gazing up at the man’s face.

Rin swayed unsteadily, clenching his fists, and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Char was smirking at him.

The fox growled and ran, either for his son or at Char. It was immaterial, though; halfway there, he doubled over, skidding on the carpet and yowling in pain.

“Daddy!” Planvi squealed, starting to move toward him. But the human laid a hand on the child’s muzzle, and he fell silent, following Char like a wind-up toy as they walked toward a door on the other side of the room.

Rin managed to lift his head, panting heavily and looking as if he were about to retch. “You can’t… have my son,” he gritted, trying to sit up. Vanya walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I already do,” Char said calmly, lifting Planvi into his arms. The little fox giggled.

“Please,” Rin gasped, almost whimpering. “What are you going to do with him?”

“I don’t know.” He ruffled the little fox’s fur with one hand. “Something amusing, I’m sure.” He smiled unpleasantly. “Say goodbye, Planvi.”

“Bye, daddy,” Planvi said, sounding happy but slightly fuzzy. “Bye, Vanya.”

“No!”

Char blinked at the mention of Vanya’s name and looked over at her again with an unreadable expression, then shook his head, stepping through the door and shutting it behind him quickly.

Rin immediately collapsed, sobbing.

Vanya lifted him to his feet and led him over to the couch. “Steady,” she said, tilting his head to look into her eyes. “We don’t have time for this.”

He closed his own eyes until he brought his breathing under control. When he spoke, his voice was shaking. “That… cat. At the door. She had… holes…” He searched Vanya’s face, as if hoping for a calming explanation.

“I know.”

“Why… ?”

“Why do you think?” she replied, her soft voice edged with steel.

“He’s a vampire,” he whispered. “And he’s taken my child.”

Vanya nodded.

“I… don’t know what to… I’ve never believed…”

“Many things exist regardless of the world’s disbelief in them. Rin, listen to me.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Char isn’t after Planvi. He’s after you.”

The fox stared at her uncomprehendingly.

“He’s not after blood.” She stood up, and lifted him back to his feet. “He’s after emotions. Like fear. And despair.”

“Why… me?” Rin followed Vanya listlessly, his tail drooping like a mop.

“My guess is that he met Planvi and became friends with him, and he told him of you. And you sounded vulnerable.”

“I don’t understand.”

Vanya sighed patiently, studying the closed door as she spoke. “What do you care about, other than Planvi?”

Rin started to speak, then stopped, and shuffled his feet in a motion very similar to his son’s. “I don’t know.”

“You’re a very lonely man.” The mouse put her hand on the doorknob, shaking it gently. “I don’t know what happened to Planvi’s mother, but I’ve already guessed that he’s been your only companion since she left. He’s more important to you than your own life.”

Rin nodded slowly.

“So to someone who takes pleasure in hurting other people, you are a perfect target. You can be hurt through your child, and the wounds will be far deeper than anything that could be caused by hurting you directly.”

“He wouldn’t want to hurt Planvi,” Rin whispered. He began to look like a small child himself, one in desperate need of a teddy bear.

Vanya withdrew her hand from the door, and it swung open, revealing another empty hall behind it. “The question is whether that will stop him from doing it in order to hurt you.” She motioned him toward the door.

“We… ” He stepped forward cautiously, then looked down at her. “I can’t ask you to fight a vampire for me.”

“Rin, if you go through this door by yourself—”

“I’ll be killed.”

“Not before you see Planvi tortured to death in front of you.”

The fox shuddered, but nodded faintly.

Vanya smiled a little. “Besides: you didn’t ask. I’m doing it on my own.”

“What are we going to do?”

She took his hand and led him into the hallway, almost identical to the one that had greeted them when they first entered the building. “Ideally, you’re going to retrieve your child while I deal with Char. In practice, I’m not sure. He’s going to at least be expecting you, and may very well be expecting me, too.”

“Shouldn’t we have… I don’t know. Holy water? Stakes?”

“We don’t have time to find stakes, Rin, and holy symbols only work if your faith in them is real. If you had that sort of faith in your religion, the sun necklace you’re wearing would have at least attracted Char’s attention.”

“Then what do we do?”

“It’s mostly what I do, I think. Char may be fairly sure what you’re capable of, but I’m an unknown factor to him.”

“You don’t seem particularly worried.”

Vanya stopped at a staircase, and started to climb up, bringing Rin along. “I’m not worried about what Char might do to me, only to Planvi.”

“That sounds very noble.” He looked around nervously.

“No, it’s practical. They’ll probably be in one of the guest bedrooms.” The Rilima started to move down the hallway, then stopped. There were five doors around them—one at the hall’s end, and two apiece on the left and right.

Frowning, she reached out and touched a finger to one of the door handles, then tried it silently.

“I hear crying,” Rin whispered.

Vanya nodded, and drew back from the door. Then she spun around, giving it a forceful, resounding kick. The fox jumped as it flew open, the wood around the lock splintering.

The bedroom was appointed in a similar manner to the sitting room—replicas of antiques that, at least to Vanya, were too consciously decorative to be pleasant. A canopy bed dominated the room, wide enough to comfortably sleep three, its head pushed against the back wall. The sheets were in disarray; Planvi was pushed against the pillows, crying softly, his shirt ripped. Char crouched over him, his head snapping up at the sound of the door breaking open.

Rin growled, starting to charge forward; but when Char looked at him, he stopped short. The human’s eyes were feral, almost glowing, his mouth open just wide enough to reveal a hint of fangs. A small trickle of blood ran down the corner of his chin.

Planvi shrieked when he saw his father, and sat up, then began struggling frantically and wailing. Vanya realized the cub’s hands were tied behind his back, likely bound to the headboard.

“No matter,” Char said after a moment. “It might be more entertaining to have you watch than to force you to merely listen.” He caught Rin’s arm as the Vraini came toward him, and absently tossed the fox over his shoulder with one hand.

“Fool,” Vanya said, her tone almost more regretful than angry as she moved toward Char.

He grinned, lazily catching her shirt and lifting her into the air. “Who’s the fool?” he whispered, gazing up at her. “The demon, or the one challenging the demon on his own ground?”

Then Char looked over at Rin. The fox remained slumped against the wall, moaning. “You care for this little mouse, too, don’t you?” He grinned. “Not as much as you do for your son, of course. But I don’t feel any compunction not to hurt the woman.”

“Mouse?” Planvi said weakly, his eyes focusing on Vanya.

“That’s unfortunate,” she said, looking unruffled as she remained suspended in Char’s grasp. “I’d rather talk than fight.”

“Of course you would,” he said mockingly. “How about this?” He threw her down onto the bed, and pinned her to a pillow with an arm across her throat. “You scream, and I’ll listen.”

“No,” Rin gasped, standing up and staggering toward the bed.

Vanya placed both hands on Char’s arm and lifted it off her neck an inch. “The woman doesn’t feel any compunction not to hurt you, either,” she said, calmly gazing up into his eyes.

He gaped down at her, then laughed. He was still laughing when Vanya slammed her knee into his stomach hard enough to send him flying backward off the bed.

Char recovered fast enough to put his hands into a defensive position when she leapt onto the floor next to him, but he made the mistake of grabbing for her legs. She twisted and backhanded him across the head, knocking him prone, then raised her other hand. As Char struggled into a sitting position, blue lightning crackled around her palm.

“Magic doesn’t frighten me,” he gritted, although his voice was too unsteady to be sneering.

A thick bolt ran jagged between her hand and his chest, an incendiary crack echoing thunderously in the room. Both Rin and Planvi screamed; Char fell over in a shower of sparks and a cloud of smoke.

When the air cleared, Char’s chest was smoldering, and he was the one screaming. Vanya knelt beside him and held his shoulders down to the floor. “Since you’re lucky enough to be a vampire,” she hissed, “you won’t die from that. You’re just going to wish you had.”

“Please—put it out—” Char wailed.

Vanya bent closer to him, and jerked his head up toward hers by his hair as he tried to curl into a ball. “Look at me,” she commanded.

He began to cry, still moaning.

“Look at me.”

He opened his eyes. They were full of fear, and of a hate that caused Rin to shrink back, even though he was halfway across the room.

“Listen to me, fashion boy. You were so enchanted with the idea of hurting Rin—someone you know nothing about save for his vulnerabilities—that you were willing to kill both me and his child to do it. Is that really why you became a vampire? Is that what you wanted to become? Or is it what Narith wants you to be?”

“Narith… ” He closed his eyes again. “You… can’t… ” His voice broke.

Vanya stood up and walked over to Planvi, then snapped the ropes that bound him and lifted him into her arms. He hugged her neck tightly, whimpering, and wrapped his tail around her waist.

Rin crossed to her side, looking between her and Char with a momentary expression of horror before pressing close to his son, kissing him between the ears, then gently removing him from Vanya’s arms. The cub immediately latched onto his father as tightly as he had been holding on to Vanya.

“Let’s go,” Rin whispered, stepping toward the door.

Char rolled onto his side, staring dumbly at Vanya. “You’ll… pay. Next time… won’t be alone.”

She nodded, ushering the two foxes out of the door.

“Who are you?” Char hissed.

“I’m a mouse,” she replied, her smile almost bright, “who doesn’t like you very much.” She closed the door behind her.

“What did he mean ‘next time?’” Rin muttered as they hurried down the stairs.

“It’s not over,” Vanya said quietly. “And now it’s not just a matter of hurting you, it’s a question of pride.”

Rin hugged Planvi to him more tightly; the little fox had begun to cry again as they went down the stairs.

“You’ll have to keep a very close watch on Planvi to make sure he doesn’t try to come back here.”

“What?” Rin exclaimed. “After what Char did to him, you think—”

She glanced up at him. “I know.”

They had reached the entrance hallway. The nightgown-clad Melifen was still there, and smiled to them as they went past. “You found the little fox,” she observed.

“Yes, thank you,” Vanya said. “You might want to go upstairs and put out your boyfriend, by the way. I set fire to him.”

“Oh?” the girl said, nodding pleasantly. Then alarm pierced through her fog. “Oh my lord—” She raced for the staircase.

Vanya held the door open for Rin and Planvi.

* * *

She took them back to her hotel suite. “You can take the main room,” she said, gesturing at the bed. “The couch in the other half converts into a sleeper.”

“It’s okay,” Rin said faintly. “We can take that bed.”

Vanya shook her head, locking the door. “No. I’ll be sleeping most of the day, and if I sleep in that room we won’t disturb one another.”

The fox sat down on the main bed, and laid Planvi out on it carefully; the cub was already asleep. “Wouldn’t… it make more sense to go after Char again in the day?”

The mouse smiled humorlessly. “That won’t make it much easier. And he won’t be the main problem.”

“You mean when he said he wouldn’t be alone?”

She nodded. “He’ll probably have Narith with him.”

He cocked his head.

Vanya sat down next to him. “Narith is Char’s creator.”

“Creator?”

“The one who turned him into a vampire. I’ve heard them called master vampires, or ‘sires,’ a word I always disliked.” She closed her eyes, rubbing at her temples with the fingertips of both hands.

“You… know Narith.”

“Yes.”

Rin cleared his throat. “The more I find out about all this the more I suspect you’re keeping from me.”

“That’s true.”

“Are you going to tell me it’s for my own good?”

“No. It’s at least as much for mine as for yours.” She turned to Planvi, and stroked down his side lightly. “He didn’t lose much blood. If I were you, I wouldn’t go very far tomorrow. And don’t let Planvi out of your sight.”

Rin nodded, looking down at his son. “I wish I was a better father to you,” he whispered.

“I don’t know that you’ve been a bad one,” Vanya said softly, standing back up. “Your vulnerability to Char is a direct consequence of how much love you feel for your son.”

“That’s not enough.”

She shrugged. “I don’t consider myself qualified to give you parenting advice, Rin. Perhaps you are a good father but a poor mother. Even so, given a choice between a clueless but loving parent and an experienced but distant one, the child will be better off with the former.”

He smiled. “I think Shara would have liked you.”

Vanya paused at the door to her self-assigned room. “Planvi’s mother?”

“And my wife.” He looked down at the bed.

“She died,” Vanya said softly, her tone more of a statement than a question.

Rin nodded. “Two years ago, while I was away at work in another town.” He pulled his tail into his lap and fidgeted with it as he spoke. “It was an allergic reaction to something she ate. She spent ten hours dying, and I didn’t even know until two days later, when I got back.”

Vanya crossed back over to him and gave him a gentle hug. He looked at her in surprise a moment, then relaxed against her, closing his eyes until she let go.

“Get a good night’s rest,” she said.

Rin shook his head. “In the last hour I’ve been thrown across a room, seen my son being fed on by a creature I didn’t think really existed—and watched the same creature be set on fire. I’m almost afraid to go to sleep.”

She laughed softly, and stepped through the door.

Vanya sat on her own bed until she sensed both foxes had, despite Rin’s fears, fallen asleep, then stood and opened the separating door in perfect silence.

The top sheet was only half-drawn over Rin and Planvi, and the father’s arms were placed protectively around his child. Both were unclothed, at least to the point their bodies were covered by the linen; now that his expression was peaceful rather than nervous and melancholy, Rin appeared quite handsome.

She continued on her way out of the room, closing and locking the main door as silently as she had the inner one. Then she sighed heavily. Part of her would find the sleeping arrangements much more pleasing if she and Rin were sharing the same bed, and she suspected he would have no objections even without any magical inducements. But the Vraini had enough circumstantial evidence about Vanya’s past now to make sleeping in the same room with him, much less the same bed, too dangerous if he came to the right conclusions about her nature and the wrong conclusions about her intentions.

It was too late for most stores to be open, other than restaurants and specialty stores catering to the tourist trade—which she had little interest in. But she remembered where a hardware store she had passed by previously was, and knew she would have no trouble getting into the building.

When she had the two metal spikes safely in her purse, she considered exploring the town until sunrise. There was a chance—perhaps a high one—that Char and Narith might come looking for the foxes and herself this evening. They would almost certainly search for her rather than the other two: she would be far easier to find. If that were the case, they would be better off if Vanya was somewhere else.

But if one, or both, of the vampires found Rin and Planvi when she wasn’t there to defend them, they would die.

She sighed, and hurried back to the hotel room, only barely resisting the temptation to simply teleport there (as fast as it might be, the magic would be a beacon to anyone searching for them).

When she stepped back in the suite and saw both of them, sleeping in almost the same position they had been when she left, Vanya wondered at her own relief. She was unable to decide whether or not her concern for them was, at least in part, self-interest; she had difficulty with the thought she was risking her own torture and enslavement primarily for concerns that would not benefit her. Had altruism unsettled her before she had met Narith?

After she had gone into her own room, locked the separating door, unfolded the couch into a bed, undressed and stretched out on the mattress, it occurred to her that at the least, she would be facing some of her own demons. She had been putting off the confrontation for decades, and it was certainly in her best interest to see it over with. Besides, unless Narith had changed—other than degenerating further—he was unlikely to be stronger than she was. Perhaps she had come back to Pravell because she could finish it this time and win.

Vanya rolled onto her stomach and stared at the couch’s back cushions. It was still too idealistic a motivation for her tastes, but it would have to do.

* * *

She woke up to the sound of a soft, hesitant tapping at her door. Sitting up in bed, she arranged the sheet around herself carefully, then leaned over and unlatched the lock.

The door cracked open a half-foot, and Planvi stuck his head in. “Hello?” he said cautiously.

“Good evening, little fox,” she said.

Planvi pushed the door open the rest of the way and padded in, then jumped up beside her. “You sleep during the day?”

“Most days, yes.”

“So does Uncle Char. That’s kind of weird.” He produced a comb from a shirt pocket and began working on his tail with it.

“Yes, it is. Do you remember much of last night?”

He shook his head, shivering a little. “No,” he said hesitantly. “Only some.”

“He doesn’t remember anything Char did to him,” Rin said quietly, stepping in through the door; he was dressed identically to his outfit yesterday, and she would not have known he had left the suite at all save for a small bag he was carrying. When he saw Vanya, his eyes widened a little, and he looked away, clearing his throat.

“I’m not surprised.”

“Is that part of what vampires do?”

She smiled a little wanly, and ruffled Planvi’s head fur. “No. That’s part of what children do.” Peering at the cub a moment, she pointed to a spot on his tail. “You’re missing that tangle.”

“I can’t get it,” Planvi said, trying to tug the comb through the indicated fur.

Vanya stretched as well as she could without dislodging the sheet. “Let me try, Planvi.” She held out her hand for the comb; the cub smiled and handed it to her, and she began grooming his tail. “I acquired two stakes last night,” she said to Rin.

“I bought one myself.” Rin looked over at her a little nervously, then away again.

“Oh?” She glanced at him, but kept combing through the child’s fur.

He nodded, and seemed to take a profound interest in the far wall.

“Rin,” she said softly, waiting for him to turn and look at her. Finally, he did. “Is one a spare, or do you think there is need for three?”

He dropped his eyes. Then, after a moment, he reached into the bag and withdrew a long, thin metal stake, and handed it to her head-first. “In case you lose one of the others,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” she said, her tone solemn. She set it beside her on the bed, then resumed combing Planvi’s tail.

“You seem to have a way with children,” Rin said, sitting at the foot of the bed.

“Not at all,” she said, smiling slightly. “Yours seems to be a rather unusual exception.”

“What’s going to happen tonight?”

“To be uncomfortably truthful, I don’t know. I’ve never tried to kill one vampire before, much less two.”

“And Narith is more powerful than Char.”

“Yes.”

“More powerful than you?”

She shrugged. “The last time we met, certainly. I’ve changed a lot since then.”

Rin stroked through his own tail; it had lost the near-perfect upkeep it had the first time Vanya had seen it, and now looked scruffy at best. “Are you sure we have to kill them?”

“I…” She paused, and cocked her head; the question simply hadn’t occurred to her. “No,” she said at length. “I’m not. But I think if they remain alive, they’ll keep after you and Planvi. And now me, for that matter. For you, it would just be a delayed death sentence.”

“And for you?”

“That would depend on if Narith was able to beat me, and if he did it in the way I suspect he’d want to.” She finished the child fox’s tail, and began gently combing his head fur. “And I’d rather not speculate on what that might entail with Planvi present.”

“Oh.”

Vanya sighed, and folded her arms across the sheet over her chest. “I’d prefer it if there were a way to keep both you and Planvi away from the fight.”

“Except that would leave us open to attacks without your protection.”

“Yes.”

Rin let out a long, shuddering breath, then stood up. “We’ll let you get dressed. Come on, Planvi.”

The little fox looked disappointed as Vanya stopped combing his hair, but hopped off the bed. Just before he followed his father through the door, Vanya looked up at him. “Planvi?”

“Yes?”

She cocked her head. “Do you still like your Uncle Char?”

He looked down at the carpet. “I don’t know. It’s like part of me never wants to see him again, and part of me wants to see him more than ever. I’m not sure I want to go back there tonight.”

Vanya nodded.

“Do we really have to?”

“I think so. I know I do, Planvi.”

“Do you like him?”

She shook her head. “I sympathize with him in some—many—ways. But I don’t like him, no.”

“Then why you wanna go back and talk to him?”

“I don’t. I want to kill him.”

The little fox’s eyes widened, and he started to say something, but it came out in a stutter.

“Thank you,” Rin muttered, scooping up Planvi. “You’d make a hell of a nanny.” He pulled the door shut sharply.

“You were the one who said I had a way with children, not me,” she shrugged, standing up and crossing over to the closet.

After she had dressed, in dark grey slacks and a white, ruffled lace shirt similar to the one she had been wearing when she had met Rin and Planvi, she opened the door.

“What now?” Rin said quietly. He stood by the door of the suite, watching Planvi, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and fidgeting.

“Find neutral ground. Narith always was more comfortable in his own territory—and I’d rather not meet him there for that reason.”

“He’ll come to us?”

“Not if I stay in one place. He’ll make the same assumption I’m making—meeting the opponent on home ground makes it more dangerous.”

“He might just wait. He has no reason to come after us.”

She shook her head, opening the door. “He was balked. That’s reason enough for him.”

Rin took Planvi’s hand, and led him out into the hallway. Vanya closed and locked the door behind them.

“But if he knows you’ll be coming after him—”

“He doesn’t, yet. He probably assumes I don’t want to confront him at all, and that I’ll have to be drawn out.” She sighed. “Which makes you twice as important to him. One, he was balked specifically in breaking you, and won’t let that pass unnoticed. Two, he’ll probably assume he can use you as bait to bring me to him.”

“Wonderful,” Rin said, looking even more nervous. “So you’re taking us out in the open?”

She smiled in a slightly more unnerving manner than usual. “You might say I’m using you as bait to bring him to me.”

“Wonderful,” Rin repeated sullenly. “That’s not very comforting.”

“No,” she agreed, looking around the street as they stepped out of the hotel. “It’s arguably callous, but it’s the only real choice you have.” She began walking down the street, away from the marketplace.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t have a destination in mind. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Someplace away from other people, I suppose.”

Vanya nodded. “Yes. I’d rather not… do anything dramatic around any more people than necessary.”

“It’d also put them at a lot of risk.”

“True,” she said, nodding a bit absently. “Do you know if the Carlion Temple is still standing?”

“It’s a ruin,” he said. “It’s been standing for thousands of years.”

“I haven’t seen it in a long time.”

“It’s had some damage done to it by tourists, from what I’ve heard, but it’s still in good shape.”

Vanya glanced over at him, then chuckled. “Do you mean that it’s the tourist attraction that’s brought all this activity to Groveport?”

Rin shrugged. “It’s one of them.”

“The Seaway’s another one,” Planvi chimed in. “It’s a neat place.”

“Seaway?”

“It’s a kind of shopping district that was built around the docks,” Rin explained. “Restaurants, importers, a few rides, even.”

She nodded. “Well. I seem to recall the quickest route to the temple is this way.” Vanya turned down a less busy sidestreet and picked up her pace. Two blocks ahead of them, the buildings and brick road stopped, continuing on as a narrower dirt road through a field.

“Do you really think Char and Narith are going to look for us there?”

“I think they’re already looking, Rin. Take my hand. Planvi, you take my other hand.”

The two foxes exchanged nervous glances, and took the mouse’s arms. She led them on down the path, the way lit only by moonlight.

Carlion, according to Vraini legend, was the half-divine son of Kirinaltha, the goddess who created the species. The temple they headed toward was not a place of worship, but a place of remembrance; it was inside its walls, so the story went, that Carlion was given full immortality by his mother at the end of his mortal life. No one, however, really knew who built Carlion Temple. It had been standing for centuries before the founding of the Empire, and certainly predated the Vraini—the only species in Ranea that seemed to have been created during recent recorded history. Vanya suspected their “goddess” was one of the faerie folk, who may have fashioned the fox-people simply for her own amusement, but she had never made any serious inquiry. She avoided divinity as a general rule.

Rin’s description of the temple as ruins was technically accurate, but the building was still sound, even if the passing of years clearly showed on its weathered stone columns. It was only one room, built on a wide, raised square platform of green marble. Columns, set apart from one another at long, regular intervals, rose some up some fifteen feet to support not a roof but a line of green marble that matched the floor, an open square border no wider than the top of the columns and precisely following the lines of the temple’s base. The only covered area inside was a marble roof over a low, long stone bench set about six feet away from a crumbling, grey stone wall pressed against the columns, rising only to twelve feet high and extending to either side only as far as the bench itself.

The wind picked up as Vanya led the two foxes off the road and down a narrow path toward the temple. The site had acquired a high barbed wire fence since the last time the mouse had been there; the path led to a heavy oaken gate, padlocked on one end. Hanging from the lock was a sign reading “Carlion Temple, Open Sunrise to Sunset.”

Vanya barely slowed as she approached, letting go of her companions’ hands only long enough to clasp her fists together and swing hard at the gate. It shattered down the middle, the two halves whipping back against the fence and splintering with secondary cracks nearly as loud as the first.

“Wow,” Planvi said, looking back at the broken wood as she pulled the Vraini behind her and up the stone-lined temple path.

“Was that necessary?” Rin mumbled, trying to keep his balance as Vanya increased her pace even more.

“They’ll just have to buy a new door. The sign and lock are still there.”

He laughed uneasily.

Vanya led them toward the back of the temple, their footsteps echoing across the marble, then sat down on the bench. “Both of you stay next to me.”

“Are we waiting for them to come get us?” Planvi asked, looking up at her.

She nodded. “In a sense, yes.”

“I don’t like this very much,” he said, his voice growing quieter.

Vanya put an arm around the child’s shoulder; when she made the motion, Rin stiffened slightly. She looked up at him, arching an eyebrow.

“Never mind,” he muttered, looking away. “I’m being paranoid.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “But I do understand why.”

“She won’t hurt me,” the cub said. His voice was soft, but held no trace of doubt.

“Do you have any… plan?” Rin said, looking around nervously.

“To an extent.” She shrugged. “I don’t have the resources or time for a surprise ambush, and it will be two against one. Counting only immortals, that is.”

“That sounds like they have the advantage.”

“We’ll just have to see.”

Planvi pressed close against Vanya’s side. She absently scratched behind his ears.

“Er… are we supposed to be doing something to attract their attention?” Rin said after another minute passed.

Vanya seemed to consider the question a moment, then sat up straight, looking all around the temple. “No.”

The moonlight seemed to flicker, and the light breeze that had been blowing through the columns suddenly became a strong, cold wind, the high grass whipping in furious, chaotic patterns outside. Leaves twisted around and up in small whorls, scattering over the lawn and through the temple itself, and the wind’s howl received punctuation from small pebbles and rock chips that had lifted off the marble floor and out of the lawn to ricochet between the columns and the stone wall behind them. The moon flickered again, then dimmed as a dark cloud passed beneath it, and as the oak trees began to bend in the gale’s increasing force, a branch crashed down from overhead, landing just yards from the stone bench and skidding loudly across the marble floor. Planvi screamed, holding Vanya’s waist tightly and closing his eyes.

“Hold on,” she said, wrapping an arm around the cub lightly. Her voice was barely audible over the wind.

The little fox suddenly opened his eyes again, sitting bolt upright.

“What is it?” Rin said, almost screaming.

Planvi started to stand, but the arm the mouse had around his shoulders slipped down to his waist and tightened, holding him down. He struggled against her, whimpering softly and staring out at the trees.

Two figures stood underneath one of the oaks; one had an arm raised, appearing to be holding out his hand. He made a beckoning motion, and Planvi struggled more desperately against Vanya’s grip.

“I am not letting you go, child,” she said, her voice carrying clearly over the wind now, even though she spoke more softly than she had before.

Someone laughed.

Vanya remained still as a human stepped out of the temple’s shadows toward them. He was tall, dark-skinned, with coal black eyes and long brown hair tied in a neat ponytail behind him; his clothes were as fashionable as Char’s—but the fashions were a century old. His shirt was an embroidered black tunic, with similarly colored pants, high black boots and, breaking the pattern, a wide gold belt.

He stopped fifteen feet away from them, and the wind began to die down. “How charming,” he said, his voice low and clear, with the soft, rounded accents of the Achoren gentry. “The lioness keeping watch on the lamb.” His gaze shifted from Vanya and Planvi to Rin. “That’s not very wise, sir shepherd.”

“It’s wiser than giving him to the wolves,” Rin replied, his voice almost a growl.

The man under the tree had begun walking toward the temple himself, leaving the other figure behind; when he reached the steps, Char grinned at Planvi, then kept his smile as he looked at Vanya. “You should be with us, you know.”

“She doesn’t consider herself one of my children, Char.” Narith began walking slowly around the bench, studying the people on it with a soft smile.

“I was never your child,” Vanya said flatly. “And I was never willing to be your toy.”

“I never asked you to be one.” He gestured languidly at the two foxes. “They are your toys. Don’t tell me you don’t think of them that way. I know you better.”

“If you had known me half as well as you thought, I might not have left, Narith.” She shook her head, then stood up.

“Come here, Planvi,” Char said, as soon as the mouse’s arm left the child’s waist.

The little fox stood up and took a few quick steps forward, then stopped, and looked back at Vanya.

“You know I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.

“He knows you fed on him,” Rin snarled.

The third figure had approached the temple during the conversation; it was the Melifen woman that had met Rin and Vanya at the door. She was dressed in a black overcoat, and looked so frightened it was a wonder she could stand. She stopped at the line of columns, mutely watching the confrontation inside.

Planvi seemed to wobble in place, as if being tugged by both Vanya and Char. He looked over at the mouse, then over at Char. “Vanya said you’ll kill me.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Char said, sounding genuinely offended.

“You will,” Vanya said calmly.

His eyes flashed. “I’m not going to make the same mistake you did, mouse,” he hissed.

“You already have.”

“I’ve never killed a child.” Char smiled nastily.

Narith laughed, watching Rin’s expression. “Surely your guardian angel has told you how much she likes children.” He stopped near Planvi. “The first one was very much like you—perhaps a bit younger. But he was a Rilima, very much like Vanya herself. I believe the wound was from here”—with a quick, light motion he touched the right side of the cub’s neck, just below the back of his jaw—“to here.” He traced the finger in a line to a point barely touching Planvi’s left shoulder.

Planvi looked over at Vanya; the mouse gazed back at him impassively, her eyes steady.

“Perhaps, my friend,” Narith said, “your black-haired friend over there isn’t as nice as she’s told you. Maybe you’d be safer with Char.”

“I haven’t lied,” Vanya said evenly, studying Planvi.

“You’ve lied to him about me,” Char hissed. “You’re the evil—”

“Open your eyes,” she snapped. “You didn’t listen to a word I said to you the last time we met, did you?”

“I was in too much pain.” He glanced down at Planvi. “You were there when she set fire to me. And you still trust her?”

Narith laughed softly, folding his arms across his chest.

“Planvi,” Vanya said. “Listen to me.” She knelt down, so she was looking up at his face, and she caught and held his eyes. “Char may really like children. But he also likes to hurt people. And when you’re a vampire it’s very easy to hurt people, and very, very hard to know when you shouldn’t.”

“Did you… kill… the other mouse?” he said, his voice small.

“Yes, I did.”

He looked down.

“Narith likes to hurt people, too. But he isn’t interested in people like you and your father, not for real fun. He wants to find people like me and Char, and get them to become vampires, to get them to give in to evil just that much and still let them think they can be good. And then he traps them. What he’s trying to do is get Char to hurt your father by killing you, because that’s one of the only things that Char still really doesn’t want to do.”

“Bitch,” Char suddenly snarled, and he leapt at Vanya, knocking Planvi out of the way. They landed together, rolling across the marble floor and slamming into the stone bench.

He kept his hands around Vanya’s neck as she tried to throw him off, and threw her head back against the floor with a crack that made Planvi yell and Rin wince.

“I can’t kill you,” he growled, “but I can make you hurt.” He drew back, lifting one hand over Vanya’s face and making it into a fist.

“Don’t,” Rin growled, suddenly stepping forward and grabbing Char’s arm. The vampire was surprised enough that the fox was able to move the arm a few inches before Char yanked it away and hissed.

In another split-second Char was down. He hadn’t quite gotten his hands on Rin before Vanya had slammed her fists up into his stomach.

“Get off him!” the Melifen squealed. Vanya blinked in surprise, realizing the girl had moved to stand in front of her and Char.

Vanya stood up, and put a hand to the back of her head. It was bleeding. She sighed.

“Planvi,” Char said, his voice commanding. The little fox’s head jerked around to look at Char, but he made no move.

“Don’t even try,” Vanya snarled, moving for Char.

The Melifen put her hand on Vanya’s shoulder and pushed ineffectually. “You’ll have to go through me to get him!” she shrieked, slapping the mouse across the face.

Vanya sighed heavily and grabbed the woman’s arm, then looked up into the cat’s eyes. “I will quite literally go through you if you make it necessary.”

The woman licked her lips, then threw her arms around Char, who looked slightly startled by the action. “I love him,” she said, almost tearfully.

“She can’t kill me,” he said, grinning.

“He can’t love you,” Vanya said, moving forward. “Get out of the way.”

Char held onto the cat-girl with one hand and tried to grab for Vanya with the other; the mouse deflected his blow with a raised palm and brought her other hand, in a fist, into his side.

The Melifen let out a gurgling shriek. As Vanya let her hand fall she realized Char had twisted the girl into the path of her punch, using her as a shield; she watched the cat fall as the human let go of her. She looked up at Vanya despairingly and tried to say something, placing both her hands over her rib cage; only a raspy, rattling breath came out. As she fell onto her side, she caught Char’s eyes, and her expression changed to betrayed, hurt bafflement.

“And the first casualty is an innocent struck down by the guardian angel,” Narith said, walking in a lazy circle around Vanya and Char. “You can drink her blood now, too. She’s still alive.” He smiled. “She’d feel it. That was something you liked, wasn’t it?”

Vanya turned her gaze on the elder vampire, but said nothing.

“Oh, drop the pretense,” he said, almost sneering. “You’re no better than us. You’re not going to drink that woman’s blood, but you want to.”

“And you’d like nothing more than that.” She turned back to Char, calmly stepping over the gasping Melifen, and grabbed him by his shirt with one hand.

He laughed, and raised both his hands, placing them on Vanya’s shoulders. Green fire crackled around them, then raced over Vanya’s body in a brief, searingly bright web.

When it passed, Vanya’s clothes were smoldering, her hair had become a wild mess, and her coldly impassive expression had become actively malevolent.

Char’s face registered surprise for a moment, then nervousness. He tried to back away, but the mouse lifted him into the air, still with one hand, and walked toward the stone wall, stepping around the bench.

The human vampire kicked, and punched her shoulders, and slapped her across the face; only the latter seemed to have any real effect—it made her hiss, very loudly. When she reached the wall she slammed him against it hard enough to shake the floor.

“Was that it?” she growled. “That was your magic?”

“You can’t kill me,” he gasped, his cocky smile partially returning.

“Is that what Narith told you?”

“Yes.” He grabbed her arm with both of his and forced it away from his neck. “Vampire magic… can’t kill other vampires.”

“No, it can’t.” She kneed him in the stomach hard enough to make him forget about moving her arm, then grabbed his neck again. “This isn’t magic.”

“What—”

He stopped short, and looked down at his chest. Vanya had withdrawn one of the spikes and driven it through him with the palm of her other hand.

She moved the hand on his neck down to the spike as well, and held it in place with both hands as Char began to struggle against her furiously, then begain screaming. He looked over at Narith, as if for help. The elder vampire watched the proceedings with a disgusted expression, but made no move to interfere.

Char threw himself against Vanya, dislodging her, then fell over, scrabbling at the spike’s head with both hands.

Rin had turned away. Planvi had remained in place, where he had been since Char started calling him, and begun to wail.

“I… wouldn’t have killed him,” Char whispered, slumping. “Would I?”

Vanya knelt beside him. “Should I have taken that risk?”

He looked up at her, but didn’t respond.

Vanya stood up, and turned toward Narith, who clapped slowly, expression sneering. “Very nice. I had plans for him.” He looked down at Char distastefully. “He had a great deal of promise.”

“You don’t have the faintest idea what that really means,” Vanya replied.

He snorted. “Do you think this will save your pet foxes?”

“No,” she said, brushing herself off and turning to face him directly. “I still have to kill you.”

Narith stared at her, then laughed. “You really plan to fight me, child?” The wind outside began to pick up again.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course you do.” He smiled unpleasantly. “You can come back home.”

“I’d rather die. Again.”

He laughed again. “If that’s true, then why are you back here at all? You haven’t changed, Vanya. I remember how much you wanted the power I offered you.”

“You’re not going to break me, Narith,” she said softly.

His expression hardened. “I broke you a century ago, mouse-child. I broke you when you opened the throat of your little brother.”

Vanya closed her eyes, pain clouding her features for a moment.

“And I broke you because you enjoyed it,” he continued, his voice lower.

“Shut up!” Vanya snarled. She clenched her hands into fists; when she opened her eyes again, they were filled with hatred.

“And you wanted to do it. You tried to blame me then, and you’ve been blaming me all this time, haven’t you? All I did was show you what you are.”

The mouse raised her arms over her head. This time when lightning cracked down, it was not from her hands, but from the sky itself. The bolt was impossibly loud and bright, a line that seared into the vision of the two foxes for a split-second and sent up a shower of sparks and a spray of marble fragments.

Narith put up an arm to shield himself against the debris. He stood a yard to the side of where he’d been an instant before—where the bolt had struck. He grinned mockingly at Vanya. “That’s very nice,” he said softly. “But this won’t be that easy.”

Rin grabbed Planvi and dashed toward the stone wall, taking cover near one of its sides. Narith watched the action and laughed. “You won’t be safe over there.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “She’ll still be able to find you.”

Vanya raised a hand again. This time Narith shook his head, and made a small dismissive gesture. She flew backward, crashing into one of the marble columns hard enough to chip it. Pieces of marble fell down from its top, pelting her.

As Narith walked leisurely toward her, she sat up, her expression even angrier.

“Oh,” he said, his tone even more mocking. “The stone mouse is showing emotion. Hatred. It’s a very comfortable one, isn’t it?”

She launched herself at him.

Neither of the two foxes could follow her motion, and from Narith’s startled look, he couldn’t, either. One instant she was getting to her feet, the next the human was flying backward, Vanya’s hands around his throat. They slid a good five yards after he hit the ground.

And he still laughed.

He rolled over, getting his own hands around her throat and kicking her hard enough to make her loosen his grip, then sprang back. “I haven’t had this much fun in years,” he panted, rubbing his throat.

As Vanya stood up, he retreated back to the fallen Melifen girl, and picked her up roughly with one hand. “I do believe she’s not quite dead,” he said cheerfully. The girl remained motionless, although her chest moved faintly and irregularly, and her eyelids fluttered once. He kept her between himself and Vanya as the mouse approached. “You should finish the job.”

Vanya hissed, darting to one side with her arms reaching for him.

Narith didn’t respond to her attack. Instead, he sank his teeth into the side of the cat’s neck as Vanya struck him. He fell down with her neck still firmly gripped in his mouth.

Vanya stared, remaining motionless for a moment, then grabbed the human’s head. He withdrew his teeth and grinned up at her, blood on his lips. “Would you like some?” He thrust the limp woman up into the mouse’s face.

She grabbed the woman, then drew back, shaking.

“Go ahead.” Narith placed one hand on the back of the cat’s head and the other on the back of Vanya’s, and pushed them together, the mouse’s mouth over the bleeding wound.

After a moment, Vanya roughly dropped the woman, flicking specks of blood off her lips with her tongue. Narith laughed, and she backhanded him.

When he recovered, he just smiled. And punched her, hard, in the stomach. She doubled over.

Narith grabbed her shoulders. “This is the effect poor Char was trying for, I believe,” he chuckled. The same green fire crackled around his hands, then around her. This time, though, she began screaming. “It’s much more effective this way, isn’t it?”

“No!” Planvi squealed, breaking his cover just far enough to pick up one of the splintered rock chips and hurl it, with surprising accuracy, at Narith’s head.

It connected with a sharp, unpleasant crack, and Narith jumped in surprise. The spell around Vanya abruptly vanished, and she slumped over, panting.

Narith put a hand to his head and felt the blood; his look of surprise slowly changed to one of nasty amusement. “Come here, little fox,” he said.

Planvi stopped, frozen.

“Don’t, Planvi,” Vanya said, almost growling. He whimpered when she looked at him. Her eyes glowed red.

“Why not?” Narith said, his voice almost a whisper. He grabbed Vanya’s hair and pulled her back toward him. “You want him, don’t you?”

She twisted in his grasp, almost snarling, and backhanded him viciously, producing another bleeding cut to match the one from Planvi’s rock.

Narith disappeared.

Vanya rose shakily to her feet, panting heavily. Her eyes still glowed, and her lips were pulled back far enough to show a set of teeth that no longer looked very mouselike at all. She stared at a point in space just to Planvi’s right; a shower of sparks suddenly formed there, outlining Narith.

“Very good,” he said, grabbing the scruff of Planvi’s neck calmly. “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

“Let him go!” Rin said.

“Oh, be quiet,” Narith said amiably. He gestured with one finger, and Rin’s legs buckled. “You’ll get your turn in a few minutes, I’m sure.” He leaned over to the fox and lowered his voice. “And yes, she’s as wild making love as you think she is. Of course, in her current state of mind, she’ll kill you in some remarkably entertaining way during the act.” He punched the fox in the arm lightly. “Talk about climax, eh?”

Rin stared up at him, trying unsuccessfully to get to his feet.

Narith chuckled and walked toward Vanya, holding Planvi at arm’s length. The cub struggled violently, spouting protests that bordered on curses.

“I won’t let you do anything to him,” Vanya said, readjusting her stance into an almost defensive position.

“Of course.” He approached to just out of Vanya’s reach, then slipped his other hand over Planvi’s muzzle and tilted the child’s head back, lowering his neck to Vanya’s eye level. “I don’t want to do anything to him… myself.”

Vanya slowly bared her teeth—still looking directly at Narith.

“You have to be thinking about it, Vanya,” he said. “It’s part of what you are. How have you lived all this time? Have you lived well? Have you tried to forget how much pleasure there is to be found in your powers? How you can use trust?”

“Put him down,” she hissed.

“She wants to kill you,” Narith whispered in Planvi’s ears.

“No!” the fox cub yelled, twisting and trying to hit the human.

He laughed. “Oh, but she does. You can feel it. Just look at her. Don’t tell me you can’t feel it, child. You’re afraid of her.”

Planvi began to wail.

“And she’ll feed on your fear.” He stroked a finger along Planvi’s neck. “It’s almost as good as your blood. Maybe better.”

Vanya had closed her eyes again, shaking violently.

“You can feel it, too, can’t you?” Narith said, grinning. He stepped forward and brushed a finger along the mouse’s cheek; her eyes snapped open. They had become solid red.

Planvi started to scream, then stuffed a paw in his mouth, eyes wide.

Raising the child over Vanya, Narith let him drop.

She caught him reflexively, then looked down at him, her expression cold. Planvi tried to shrink back, but she put her arms around his waist, lifting him up in front of her, and bared her teeth, opening her mouth wide.

Planvi whimpered, very quietly. It was the only sound for a long moment.

Vanya began to tremble, and slowly lowered Planvi to the ground. She dropped her arms away from him, and held them tightly at her sides, closing her eyes.

Narith looked between Vanya and the cub in confusion. Then his expression grew dark. “Fool,” he growled. He raised one hand and pointed at Planvi, and the child flew backward as if struck by a wrecking ball. He slammed into the temple’s wall a full four feet off the ground, and dropped down to the marble floor in a heap.

Vanya stared at Planvi’s crumpled form, then closed her mouth and looked at Narith. Her eyes no longer showed fire. Now they showed ice. She began to walk forward.

He raised both hands, and the blue lightning the mouse had used against Char shot toward her. It stopped a foot in front of her, dissipating in a shower of sparks.

Narith’s eyes widened, then narrowed. He dropped his hands, and a jet of flame erupted directly in front of Vanya.

As she touched it, a wall of blue sparks encircled her. She walked through the fire without slowing down. When the sparks fell away from her, not even her clothes were ruffled.

“You can’t do that,” Narith whispered, staring at her.

“Not before,” she said softly. As she spoke, the floor beneath Narith gave way.

He let out a cry of surprise, looking down. The marble had crumbled; he had fallen into a rubble pit. Cursing, he tried to get enough footing to scramble out.

Vanya reached him, slamming a foot against his back as he crawled up. He wheezed; before he had enough time to catch his breath, she’d rolled him over, and the tip of the second metal stake was against his chest.

He froze, eyes wide, then smiled slightly. “No. You don’t hate me enough to do that.”

“For a long time, hating you was what kept me going,” Vanya said quietly. “Tonight you nearly brought it back—but you showed me something other than hatred.”

He looked up at her, a hint of a smile on his face.

“You showed me that you’re too small to hate. But I can’t pity you, either. That only leaves contempt.” She put both hands on the stake and drove it into his chest hard enough for the tip to come out the back. “Goodbye, Narith.”

He roared, clutching fingers like a skeleton’s at her arms. The green fire raged around her again, now spurting out of the vampire’s wounds with his blood. She bit down on her lip, hard, and staggered away from him, kicking him back into the pit.

The sparks subsided. She caught her breath, and walked unsteadily over to the bench, leaning against it and turning back toward the human. He twitched, moaning, and stared back at her with an expression as confused as it was hateful as he grew still.

Vanya hurried toward the two foxes.

Rin had his head pressed against Planvi’s chest; he was breathing heavily, tears brimming in his eyes. She couldn’t tell if the cub was breathing at all.

She knelt down beside him. The little, crumpled yellow flower he had tried to give Vanya lay next to him, along with the contents of most of his pockets, fallen and shattered when he had struck the wall.

Rin looked at Vanya, oblivious to the blood and scorch marks covering her. “Is… he… I can’t hear anything…” He trailed off, searching her face hopefully.

Vanya gathered the cub into her arms, clenching the flower in one fist. Even this close, she couldn’t detect any breath in him, and she could sense the wounds inside. She shut her own eyes, slumping against the wall and holding Planvi tightly. A second later, Rin let out a tortured, ragged breath, and she could feel his head hit her shoulder.

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered hoarsely. “After all this, you’re not allowed to die.” She hugged Planvi’s body to her tighter still, and buried her muzzle in his hair. Rin made no sound, but she felt him begin to cry, his tears staining her shoulder.

She didn’t know how much time went by, all of them frozen. Then Vanya felt Planvi’s nose press against her lips.

She drew back, startled, letting go of the flower and nearly letting go of Planvi as well.

Rin sat bolt upright, staring at his son. “You’re… ” He trailed off, then hugged Planvi as tightly as Vanya did, both at the same time. Planvi licked both of them on the nose weakly.

“I thought… ” Rin started, then shook his head.

“I don’t feel very good,” Planvi said, his voice very soft. He looked at Vanya. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

Vanya didn’t respond; she just hugged him again, pressing her cheek against his and closing her eyes.

“You fixed my flower,” Planvi said, squirming back a little.

“I did… what?” Vanya muttered, her brow furrowing.

Planvi held up the yellow rose. It looked almost freshly picked now, no damage other than dust from the marble floor.

“I couldn’t have,” Vanya said, staring at it.

“You do magic.”

She shook her head, looking down into the cub’s eyes. “Vampires can’t… heal.”

Rin reached up to her cheek, and wiped away a tear. “Can they cry?” he said softly.

* * *

“I don’t want you to leave,” Planvi said, for at least the eighth time in the last hour.

Vanya kissed him lightly. “I’m not sure I want to, either. But I know that I really can’t stay.”

“You promise to come back?”

“I promise.”

She gave Rin a gentle hug; he returned it awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “I… I know you don’t like being accused of acting selflessly, but—”

“I didn’t, Rin.”

The fox smiled. “All right.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you anyway.”

She cleared her throat, and turned away.

“Wait,” Planvi called after she began walking.

Vanya sighed a little and turned back. “Yes?”

He ran up to her, and motioned for her to bend down. She did. The cub withdrew the rose from a pocket, still miraculously uncrumpled, and handed it to her. “Keep it this time,” he said.

Vanya smiled. “I will.”

– end –

N.B.: This story appeared in some issue of Yarf! at some point, but I don’t have my copy on hand and their search engine is (still) broken as of this writing so I can’t tell you which issue. In case the only other things you’ve read by me are the Derysi (vampire bat) stories: no, most of my stories do not actually involve vampires. If you are on FurryMUCK, I played Vanya there for a while (there is another “Vanya” there now, but not one connected with me in any way)—and there is a cryptic reference to her in one of FurryMUCK’s landmarks.