Shadow Heir

Chapter 14

It took a lot of self-control not to turn around and see if Dorian was joking. My memories of past experiences with Kiyo—like when he’d tried to kill me—were strong enough to make me keep my gaze fixed on him.

For his part, Kiyo remained calm and unmoving, though I didn’t doubt his excellent reflexes would take over in an instant if I attacked. His dark eyes lifted from my face and glanced at something behind me, presumably Dorian.

“Dorian,” I demanded, “what are you talking about?”

I heard the sound of feet hitting the ground, and a moment later, Dorian made his way to Kiyo’s side. “Exactly what I said. I’ve told you a number of times that this blight is a concern for all kingdoms affected. As such, Maiwenn wanted to help.”

“We don’t need her help,” I growled. “We can take care of this ourselves.”

Dorian tugged his cloak closer. It was violet, with ermine trim. Apparently even dangerous conditions required kingly style. “Maybe. Maybe not. I told Maiwenn she could contribute something, and she suggested the kitsune here since his fox form will make an excellent scout. It seemed reasonable to put differences aside and make a truce for the greater good.”

It was really hard to know where to start with that. Admittedly, there was some merit to using Kiyo as a scout. He was half kitsune, the son of a Japanese fox nymph. As such, he could shape-shift into a fox at will and would have speed and cold-resistance superior to the rest of us. Useful plan or not, I nonetheless had a few hang-ups about it.

“‘Put differences aside?’” I exclaimed. “He tried to kill me! Why does everyone seem to forget that all of a sudden?”

“No one’s forgotten that,” said Dorian. There was a glint of steel in his eyes, despite his lazy tone. It gave me hope that he hadn’t completely lost his mind. “Although, technically he was trying to kill your children. Since they’re not here, you can now rest in relative safety.”

Kiyo spoke at last. “You have my word, Eugenie. I won’t do anything to hurt you on this journey. I just want to put a stop to this blight.”

I glanced between each man in disbelief. “Your word means nothing,” I said.

Rurik walked over to my side, sword in hand. “My lord Oak King is undoubtedly confused by the politics of diplomacy, Your Majesty,” he told me. “Allow me to rectify things by dispatching this miserable creature from the world so that he no longer troubles you and we can be on our way. Decapitation would probably be the most efficient method.”

It was the politest tone I’d ever heard Rurik use. It was also the only time in memory that Rurik had sided with me against Dorian. Although Rurik had become my servant a long time ago, he’d always behaved as though he was indulging me while reserving his true loyalties for his former king.

“And I’ll do it if he won’t,” called Jasmine.

If Kiyo was cowed by these threats, he didn’t show it. He remained where he was, face earnest. The rest of us, having stopped moving, were all feeling the cold, but Kiyo had a staunch look that said he could stand here all day.

“You’re being foolish, all of you,” chided Dorian. “Not to mention melodramatic.” The irony of Dorian accusing others of being melodramatic wasn’t lost on me. “Varia—her subjugated lands aside—only represents one kingdom. We are many. Don’t make me start quoting well-worn adages about uniting against an enemy and how turning against each other will only lead to our downfall. Clichés bore me, and standing around is making me cold.”

Kiyo looked at me unblinkingly. “I have every reason in the world to help you lift this blight and none to betray you. I’ll go scout ahead now.” I wasn’t so sure about the betraying part, but before I could make any further protest, Kiyo shape-shifted into a small red fox. In the blink of an eye, he turned around and scampered down the road, easily covering the snowy distance.

“This is a bad idea,” I warned Dorian.

“Some would argue our entire plan is a bad idea,” he retorted.

Our party moved out again, but the earlier energy and good mood were gone. With the exception of Dorian, everyone was either dumbfounded by the turn of events with Kiyo or completely outraged. I saw Rurik trot over to the soldiers from my kingdoms, Keeli and Danil, and murmur something to them that was received with grim nods. I had a feeling they’d either been ordered to never let me out of their sight or to lure Kiyo off alone and decapitate him as soon as the opportunity came. With Rurik, it was hard to say which strategy would appeal to him.

“Volusian,” I called. The spirit was still lurking about from when I’d summoned him earlier. “You go ahead too— but watch Kiyo. Make sure he really is alone and not meeting up with Willow soldiers.” Volusian vanished.

Seeing Kiyo stirred up all sorts of troubling feelings. I was angry, absolutely, that I’d somehow just acquired him as an ally, despite my protests. It was also hard not to resent him after everything he’d put me through. He’d tried to kill me and my children. Because of him and Maiwenn, I’d spent the last six months hiding and on the run. Those were things I wasn’t going to forgive. I wasn’t even sure I could temporarily put them aside “for the greater good.”

At the same time, I remembered that Kiyo and I had once been close. We’d shared a connection. I’d loved him. Nonetheless, I’d had a long time to overcome those sentimental feelings, and they certainly wouldn’t give me a moment’s hesitation if he attacked me again. The other part I kept thinking about was that at the root of all of this, Kiyo was the father of my children. I thought they were wonderful, the most amazing things in either world. Yet, they were half him. What did that mean? Was there good in him? Bad in them?

None of the above, Eugenie, I immediately realized. We were not our parents. Each individual was his or her own person, no matter the heritage. Jasmine and I were proof of that. Kiyo was in no way a reflection of who Isaac and Ivy were or who they’d become.

“You needn’t glare like that,” remarked Dorian, leading his horse up beside me. “What’s done is done.”

I fixed the aforementioned glare on him. “Yeah, well, it would’ve been nice if you’d maybe given me a heads-up on this. But no. Like always, you withheld information and decided to pull the strings without consulting anyone else.”

“It was presumptuous, true.” From Dorian, that was a big concession. “But I knew you wouldn’t like it either way. If you’d had notice, you simply would’ve had more time to build up arguments. As it is, he’s joined us and is now off helpfully scouting in a furry, smelly form. By which I mean his fox form. I know it’s hard to tell the difference.”

I shook my head, amazed at his nonchalant attitude. “And you think that’s it? All is forgiven and he’ll just be cool with me having Storm King’s grandchildren because we’re all united in some super team? That’s naïve.”

Dorian’s face suddenly hardened. “Equally naïve is the thought that I would carelessly allow him to do anything to you or your children. How many times do I have to convince you of my protection? Do you really think that if he comes back here and attempts to harm one hair on your head, I’ll allow it? Eugenie, if he so much as looks at you in a way I don’t like, Rurik and his conspirators over there won’t have a chance to act because I’ll have long since run that bastard kitsune through myself.” Dorian’s tone astonishingly became light and easy again. “Now then. I wonder where we’ll be making camp tonight.”

He rode off to chat with the soldiers, leaving me in stunned silence.

We rode for most of the rest of the day, giving me a lot of time to think about Dorian and Kiyo, both of whom were troubling for entirely different reasons. Although bundled up, I was starting to feel the cold more and more, especially as the sun began getting lower. The horses marched on steadfastly, but we all knew they couldn’t go as long as they normally would in warmer, easier conditions.

Volusian returned and told me Kiyo had done nothing but scout the road as promised. Volusian also made it clear that watching him had been the most boring thing ever and a waste of the spirit’s formidable talents. Kiyo himself came trotting back shortly thereafter, shape-shifting back to his human form as our group drew to a halt. He gestured over his shoulder.

“Two more land shifts ahead,” he said. “I think they’re the Elm Land and Palm Land, but it’s hard to tell out here.”

Elm and Palm. Neither were lands in my “neighborhood.” In fact, we hadn’t been in any of the familiar kingdoms in a couple of hours. I’d at least heard of these lands—and knew they weren’t Varia’s allies—but it was a stark reminder that our journey was taking us far out of our normal path.

“There’s a village just over the second border,” Kiyo added. He hesitated before continuing. “We could possibly camp there... .”

“No possibly about it,” said Rurik, urging his horse to a light walk. “Much better for us to be in some kind of civilization for the night than out here in the open.”

Kiyo frowned. “Yeah, but this place ... well, it’s not in great shape.”

Dorian caught on where I didn’t. “Do you think they’re desperate enough to attack and take our supplies?”

“No,” said Kiyo. He nodded to the armed soldiers. “These people aren’t in good enough shape to face them either, and I think they know it. I just wanted you to understand what we’re walking into.”

“Fair enough,” said Dorian. “But there are few other options.”

We set out, and all the calm I’d managed to achieve in Kiyo’s absence vanished now that he was with us again. I think the only thing that made his presence bearable was that he accompanied us in fox form, since that was a quicker mode of travel.

The village really wasn’t that far over the second border, which Dorian confirmed was the Palm Land. The settlement sat a little ways off the road and looked like something from the set of South Pacific, with lightly thatched huts that seemed completely absurd against the wintry backdrop. The palm trees that had given this land its name were unnaturally big, but that hadn’t saved them from the cold. They were all dead, unable to cling to life as the trees in the Rowan Land had. Some of the Palm residents came out to watch our approach; some peered out at us from the safety of their snowy huts. I had a weird flashback to the time I’d first inherited the Thorn Land, when my own villages had suffered from drought.

Some of them had been in pretty bad shape, but they were nothing compared to this. My people back in the Thorn and Rowan lands were on rations right now, but beside these gaunt, starving people, my own kingdoms were practically feasting every day. Likewise, the cobbled-together winter attire I’d seen on my people was downright luxurious next to the pathetic scraps of the Palm Land’s residents. The clothing barely covered their bodies. An uneasy feeling spread over me.

“Are my villages like this?” I asked to anyone who would answer. Since my return, I’d only talked to those who worked in my castles, not those who lived elsewhere. Those in the castles always had a little more than those in the villages and towns.

“No, Your Majesty,” said Danil, the guard, coming up beside me. “I’ve been to this kingdom in the past—before the blight. It was prosperous and lush. The weather was so mild that fruit and plants grew in abundance. You could walk outside your home and pick dinner. They had no need to save for winter or trade.”

“And so they had nothing when the blight came,” I guessed. Things had been far from easy in my kingdoms, but a few things had helped us through this disaster. The Thorn Land had to import a lot of food normally, meaning there were always extra supplies in storage. When the blight had destroyed most of the food found in the wild, there had been some of that backup to go around and share between both of my kingdoms. Likewise, the Rowan Land’s more temperate climate meant there’d been warmer clothing and supplies already in production to share back to the Thorn Land, whose residents (like the Palm Land’s) would normally never need anything more than the lightest of attire.

“They must be terrified of us,” I murmured as we reached the town’s center. “Most seem to be hiding.”

Rurik glanced at me, just before he dismounted. “Most are probably dead.”

He walked ahead to do our negotiating. I wondered if he was our wisest diplomatic choice, but no one else offered protest. I couldn’t hear all of the conversation, but someone who seemed to be a leader gestured to some huts while talking to Rurik. The same man also kept glancing warily at our weapons.

“He probably wants to demand food in exchange for lodging,” said Pagiel. “But knows he doesn’t have a way to stop us if we don’t heed his demands.”

“I wish we could give them food,” I said. I saw a few children’s faces watching us from inside the huts, and they broke my heart. I kept thinking of Isaac and Ivy and what it would be like if they too were in these conditions. “I’d take a cut in my rations.”

“I’d encourage you to,” said Dorian, not unkindly. “That is, if I knew exactly how long our journey will last. The supplies we brought were just a guess. If they were accurately measured out, you shorting yourself a day or two wouldn’t matter. But for all we know, we’re two weeks low on food. We can’t risk it—not when we have the chance to undo the blight altogether.”

I nodded, knowing he was right, but that didn’t stop me from feeling bad.

Rurik returned, looking puzzled. “They say we can stay in a bunch of huts they have. They’re empty.” He didn’t need to point out the grim reason as to why there was so much empty lodging.

“What do they want in return?” asked Kiyo.

“That’s the weird thing,” said Rurik. “They didn’t ask for anything—just to protect them while we’re here.”

I raised an eyebrow at this. “Protect them from what, exactly?”

“Well, they weren’t exactly clear on that. Mostly all I got from them was ‘the storm,’” said Rurik. This, naturally, made all of us glance skyward. Nothing too different showed itself above, and my senses didn’t really pick up on any impending blizzard. With the blight’s nature, it was hard to say what might happen. “I agreed to whatever they wanted.” Rurik glanced at us for affirmation.

“You did fine,” I told him. I climbed down off my horse, unsurprised to find my body stiff and sore from riding. I knew I’d adapt in a couple of days, but they were going to be long days. “Let’s check out our accommodations.”

There were plenty of huts to go around. We each could have had our own, though Jasmine assumed she and I would share. I honestly think she didn’t want to leave me alone with Kiyo around. The huts were deceptively small, but as we entered ours, it was obvious this had once housed a family. There was plenty of space and even partitions to create common and sleeping rooms. We had clean cots and a dining table, and mercifully, no personal items of the lost family remained. The walls and roof looked as though they’d been built to keep out any breezes or tropical rain but had little effect on temperature control. A fire pit that had been intended for cooking was going to be our heat source.

We’d barely been in there a minute when a young woman came scurrying in behind us. She looked no older than Jasmine, yet at the same time had a haggard appearance from harsh living that had aged her beyond her years. She knelt by the cooking pit and began to deftly light a fire.

“Oh,” I said, “you don’t have to bother with that. We know how to make a fire.” It was a skill one had to acquire in a world devoid of lighters and kerosene.

“It is no bother, my lady,” the girl replied, not meeting my eyes.

“Eugenie. My name’s Eugenie.”

“I know who you are, my lady.”

The fire roared to life and caught so quickly that I suspected our helper probably had some sort of magical fire ability. Definitely a skill to possess in these times.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Rhona,” she said, getting to her feet. With her facing me now, I was able to get a better look and could see just how harshly the blight had treated her. Her cheeks were sunken in, and there were bags under her eyes. The scraps she wore to stay warm were hardly adequate and showed a figure that was mostly ribs. I also noticed she was missing two fingers off of her left hand and wondered if that was the work of frostbite. The hand had bandages on it, indicating a recent injury.

In that moment, I so badly wanted to give her food that my hands began to move of their own accord toward my travel pack. Dorian’s words came back to me, and I forced myself to look ahead. Giving her something—even a strip of dried meat—seemed like such a small thing. But what if that meat would keep someone in my party alive when we reached the Yew Land? What if it meant the difference between stopping the blight and failing?

Making a decision, I reached for my pack—and pulled out a sweater.

“Here,” I said. “Take this.”

Rhona’s brown eyes went wide. “Lady, I cannot. It’s too fine.”

Fine? It was one of the items I’d scraped together at a secondhand store in Tucson, a red wool Christmas sweater with white snowmen on it.

“I insist,” I said, summoning my most imperious, queenly voice. “It will be a grave insult if you don’t take it.”

My bluff worked. Rhona snatched the sweater and clutched it to her chest. “Thank you, my lady. Thank you,” she kept repeating. She backed out toward the door, bowing over and over. When she was gone, Jasmine sighed.

“You shouldn’t have done that. What if you need it later?”

“I have a couple others. And she needs it a lot more.” Noting Jasmine’s skeptical look, I added, “How can you see all that and not be affected by it?”

“I try not to see it,” she said bluntly. “Or think about it. It’s the only way I’ve gotten by these last couple months.” It sounded harsh at first, but then I realized I could understand her reasoning—and didn’t like that I could. She tossed her pack unceremoniously on the floor and stretched. “I’m going to go hang out with Pagiel for a while.”

I knew Pagiel had his own hut for the night and wondered if I should be attempting some sort of chaperoning. In the end, I let her go without a word. She’d become a lot more responsible in our time together, and besides, who was I to deny her some happiness in these times? I pulled a chair as close to the cooking pit as possible and warmed myself while trying not to ruminate on what Isaac and Ivy were doing right now.

A knock sounded behind me and I called a welcome without even glancing back. A foolish move, as it turned out.

“Eugenie?”

I jumped up and spun around as Kiyo entered. I had set down most of my weapons already but still had an athame in my belt. I pulled it out and held it out between us. “Don’t come any closer,” I warned.

He shut the door and then held out his hands beseechingly. “I don’t want any trouble. I’m just here to talk.”

“I have no interest in talking to you,” I said. “I don’t want to hear any more explanations about how you’re on this journey to help us and have buried the hatchet in order to save the world.”

“Actually,” he said, “that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh. Then are you here to apologize for trying to kill me? Because I don’t really want to hear that either.”

“I’m not really here for that either,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ouch. I’d meant it that I didn’t want to hear any pleading, and really, no apology could make up for what he’d done. Still, there would’ve been something, well, decent about an attempt at remorse. “Then I really don’t see why you’re here.” I sat back in the chair, turning it to face him, but kept the athame out. I wasn’t about to let my guard down but wanted to project cool confidence.

“I wanted to talk to you about your children,” he said. “Word is they were born early.”

I gestured to my stomach. “Obviously.”

“And they’re alive?” The clinically detached way he asked that was shocking.

“Yes,” I replied. “Alive and well.”

Kiyo sighed in dismay. If he’d said, “That’s too bad,” I probably would’ve punched him then and there. Instead he said, “Eugenie, you must know how dangerous they are. Especially the boy.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t know that, actually. What I know is that they’re innocents who have come into the world with their whole lives ahead of them, lives which they—not some prophecy—will shape and which I intend to make happy and meaningful.”

“That’s nice in theory but also naïve. I’m sure your father started out as an innocent too. Look how he turned out.”

Anger was kindling in me, far hotter than the blazing cook fire. “They’re nothing like him. Neither am I. And nothing you can say will convince me otherwise. It didn’t work when I was pregnant. It’s not going to work now.”

He took another deep breath, like he was waging a mental battle to try to seem reasonable. “I’m not trying to be cruel here. I don’t want any of this. I’m just trying to save this world and the human one from a lot of grief and destruction.”

“You’re not being cruel?” I exclaimed. “You’re all but suggesting the death of a child—a baby! And for what? Some prophecy which probably isn’t true? These two aren’t even going to know about the Otherworld! They’re far away from any of this, and I intend to see they stay that way.”

A glint of annoyance showed in his eyes. Maybe whatever anger management he’d been practicing wasn’t working so well after all. “That’s the attitude everyone has when they try to stop a prophecy. You know the old stories. Trying to avert prophecies just makes them happen. Destiny fulfills itself in ways you never expect.”

“Our actions and choices shape our destinies,” I growled. “Otherwise there’s no point in living. I can’t believe you don’t see that! You were always so reasonable in the past—at least until you decided to kill your own children. You have no business saying my son’s the monster here.”

He flinched at those words, as well he should have. A funny look came over his face, one I couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t guilt or chagrin, like I would have expected. Before I could ponder it further, the door opened without a knock and Dorian strolled in as though he’d lived here for years.

“Why, hello,” he said cheerfully. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. I was just passing by and thought I’d see if your charming hovel needed any patching. My magic’s quite good at summoning dirt and rocks for convenient household usage.”

He had that typically guileless look and tone, but I wasn’t fooled for an instant. Dorian hadn’t just wandered by. He’d either seen Kiyo come in or heard about it from someone else. My suspicions were confirmed when Dorian put his hands on his hips in a way that opened his cloak and revealed the sword at his waist.

“Everything’s fine,” I said, with a tight smile. “Kiyo was just giving me his latest explanation about how my son is a terror to be feared.”

Dorian scoffed. “Little Thundro? A terror? Hardly, unless perhaps we’re discussing diapers.”

Kiyo’s hardened expression momentarily faltered. “Wait. You named your son Thundro?”

My response was preempted by a high-pitched shriek that split the night and made the hairs on my neck stand up. It was neither human nor gentry. I got to my feet and immediately began grabbing my weapons. Dorian and Kiyo were already moving for the door.

“What the hell was that?” I asked, knowing perfectly well they had no idea either.

Outside, darkness had fallen, with only well-placed torches to give us light. The terrible screech sounded again, echoed by smaller, terror-filled cries from the Palm residents as they scurried for shelter. A flash of red caught my eye, and I grabbed Rhona’s arm as she ran past.

“What’s going on?” I demanded. Even in the flickering torchlight, I could see she was as pale as the snow around us.

“The storm,” she cried. “The storm is coming.” She tugged desperately against me, and I released her, more confused than ever. Others hurried past, and within a couple minutes, no one stood outside in the village—except for me and my traveling companions.

“What’s going on?” said Rurik, coming to my side. “Are they being raided?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “They keep saying that—”

I heard the roar again, and this time, its owner came into view. My jaw dropped.

“That’s the storm?” I asked.

If you could take every stereotype and caricature of the abominable snowman and roll them into one archetypal snow monster, you’d have what was standing before me. It was about twenty feet tall, covered in white shaggy fur. Three curved horns—one on each side and one in the forehead—protruded from its head. Its eyes were large and black, as were the six-inch claws on its hands. When it roared, I caught a glimpse of a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth.

Dorian drew his copper sword. “Rurik, my friend. The next time you barter for our lodging, do get a bit more information on what exactly we’re paying.”

“Yes, sire,” muttered Rurik.

Seeing as we were standing out in the open, I would’ve thought the Storm—because really, it deserved a capital S—would come charging toward us. Instead it stopped by one of the huts and ripped off the building’s roof in one fell swoop. I heard screams from within. It occurred to me then that perhaps cold and starvation weren’t the only reasons for this place’s low population.

Dorian made the smallest of motions, and the ground beneath the Storm began to ripple. It wasn’t enough to make the creature fall over, but it did stumble and turn its attention away from the hut and its inhabitants. The fighters in our group—Rurik, Alistir, Keeli, and Danil—wasted no time in charging forward. They stabbed their swords into the Storm’s leg—or rather, they attempted to. Whatever the monster’s hide was made of, it was too tough and thick for copper to pierce. I wasn’t even sure steel would’ve done it. The Storm glanced down irritably and knocked aside Danil and Rurik with one easy motion. Kiyo, in a large and vicious fox form, was right behind the fighters and attempted to sink his teeth into the Storm’s leg. The monster brushed him off as well.

The Storm began stomping toward the rest of us. Dorian slowed it by manipulating the ground again. At the same time, I felt Jasmine’s magic flare, and a sheet of snow flew into the creature’s eyes, momentarily blinding him. It was clever. Her magic spoke to water, which responded to her even when frozen. Still, I knew this wasn’t going to be enough.

“We’re just annoying it,” I said.

“Can you banish it to the Underworld?” asked Dorian.

“Not easily.” Creatures in worlds they didn’t belong in—like gentry and spirits—would be pulled into a gate back to their own worlds. I could also force entities somewhere else, like the Underworld, which would bring about instant death. “For something this big, I’d need to mark him with a death symbol. I don’t know that I can get close, let alone get the symbol on him. Her. Whatever.”

As though proving my point, a brave Keeli jumped forward and again tried to slash the monster with her sword—and again proved ineffectual. This time, at least, she was able to skillfully dodge his angry swat, thanks largely to more distraction from Dorian and Jasmine.

“Eugenie,” said Pagiel, touching my arm. “I have an idea.” He quickly explained it to me. I grimaced.

“Crude, but it might be effective,” I admitted. “Which one?”

We scanned the village, and I cursed the night since it limited the range of what I could see. “That one,” said Pagiel, pointing. “It’s the biggest.”

“Okay.” To Jasmine and Dorian, I said, “You guys do more of the same so it doesn’t realize what’s happening.”

I drew up the full force of my storm magic, forcing every air molecule I could (figuratively) get my hands on to obey me. Beside me, I felt Pagiel summon up his own air magic. Its feel was similar to mine, and we were able to sync up our forces. Joined with him, I was surprised at how strong he was. Maybe I shouldn’t have been since Ysabel was pretty adept with air too. I was still stronger, but having his backup made me feel almost godlike.

Together, we ripped one of the dead palms from the ground, doing it in a way that left the roots behind and created a splintery end. Even among its unusually large kin, this palm was pretty huge. Careful to match each other, Pagiel and I used the air to lift up the palm and turn it on its side so that it hovered in a parallel line to the ground.

“We have to make this count,” I said. “We need a hurricane- or tornado-worthy blast here, or it’s just going to knock him over. Set your aim and get ready. On the count of three?” Pagiel quickly nodded, lines of tension all over his face as he tried to keep up with me magically. “One. Two ...” The air crackled with tension as I readied to unleash it all. “Three!”

Pagiel and I released the tree. It flew forward toward the Storm with insane speed. Not only that, it was backed by a lot of force. Maybe it wasn’t honed to arrow sharpness, but when something that big, that fast, and that forceful hits you, it does some damage. Especially when it’s aimed right for the chest.

Amazingly, we got the tree to pierce that tough hide. Pagiel’s hope had been that the tree would go straight through him, but we weren’t quite that good. Nonetheless, the tree lodged in the Storm’s chest and heart, which was more than enough to kill the beast. It gave another roar, though this was of a very different nature than before. This was a death knell. The monster took a few unsteady steps and then fell to the ground. It twitched a little and then moved no more.

“Cool,” said Jasmine.

“And now,” said Kiyo, who was human again, “we also know how to deal with any vampires that come along.”

Villagers began spilling out of the huts, hurrying to see the outcome of the monster that had been terrorizing them. I glanced over at Pagiel, who was visibly shaking. “You okay?” I asked.

He gave me a weak smile, but excitement glowed in his eyes. “Yes. I had no idea I could do that. I mean, I guess I didn’t do it. You were doing a lot more.”

“You weren’t too shabby,” I said. “You’ve got more strength than you know. Not sure I could’ve gotten it through him without you.” Pagiel beamed.

Beside him, Jasmine scowled. “They’re so ungrateful,” she said, pointing to the villagers. They had now completely encircled the fallen monster, their backs to us. “Not even a thank-you.”

“They’re too busy,” said Kiyo, squinting at them with his superior eyes.

“Doing what?” demanded Jasmine.

Kiyo grinned at her. “Butchering. That thing will feed them for weeks.”