The Best of the Realms, Book I

BLOOD SPORT

Christie Golden

"I understand you're used to being on the otherside of these iron bars," said the woman called the Shark. Her black eyeswere hard as she gazed through the barred window into the Mistledale prisoncell. "Weren't you once captain of the Riders? They called you Rhynn 'theFair,' right? Oh, but that was before you turned traitor to the people you weresworn to protect."

Inmate Rhynn, an indigo-haired moon elf, did notreply. Only her clenched hands, their slim wrists encircled by metal shackles,betrayed her tension.

The Shark opened the door with the key given her bythe new captain of the Riders. She leaned her tall, well-muscled frame casuallyagainst the cold stone of the cell. The elf's glare grew more hostile, thoughshe trembled violently. A malicious smile spread across the Shark's tanned face. Herfunctional, masculine garb-wool tunic, breeches, and cape-kept her warm, evenin the middle of the month of Hammer. Rhynn Oriandis was clad only in a shabbytunic that dozens of prisoners before her had worn. Her skin, pale as that ofthe quarry the Shark hunted, was covered with gooseflesh.

The Shark knelt and brought her tawny face within aninch of Rhynn's.

"It's all come out, Rhynn. I want thevampire."

"I don't care what lies you've heard. He deservedto go free."

"Ah, you elves do protect your own, don'tyou?" The Shark's lips curled in a sneer. "I've never heard of anelven vampire before. I'm looking forward to this case."

"Race had nothing to do-"

"It had everything to do with your actions!" the Shark interrupted. "What you forgot is that this creature is not anelf any longer and therefore did not deserve your misplaced protection. He's avampire. They are things of purest evil. They know no race, and the only thingthey 'deserve' is a stake through the heart. Give me the information I want,or I'll simply take it from you."

Rhynn's eyes remained steady. "Torture me all youlike. I won't break."

"I wouldn't be so sure. They call me the Sharkbecause I'm the predator's predator. I've fought twenty-two vampires andcountless humans, and I've always made my kill." Pride colored in herwords. "Now-" her hand was a swift blur as she tangled strong fingersin Rhynn's hair-"cooperate, and you come out of this with your sanity andmaybe your freedom. Fight me-" she tightened her grip until Rhynn gaspedsoftly-"and you'll have neither."

The Shark chanted an incantation, blunt-nailed fingersdigging into Rhynn's skull. Rhynn arched in pain, her shackles rattlingfuriously, but she could not resist. The Shark's spell tore open the elf'smind.

The woman's emotions had obviously been confused bythe vampire's magical charms, for she saw him as a being devoted to good ratherthan the monster he was. The Shark had probed other minds in that mannerbefore, and always in the victims' memories the blooder was averitable saint. The Shark concentrated on the elf's appearance, his name, hisdestination, even as Rhynn tried frantically to secret the information. In herweakened condition, Rhynn could not bear the mental violation. Her mouth openedin a soundless scream, then unconsciousness claimed her.

She's luckier than she knows, thought the Shark; hadshe resisted further, the struggle to protect the vampire would have destroyedher sanity.

Triumphant, the Shark released her hold on Rhynn. On awhim, she tossed the keys within the elf's reach. Rhynn might revive and freeherself before her captors realized it. Maybe she'd escape. Maybe they'd killher. It didn't really matter. The Shark slipped the hood of her cloak over herhead and vanished, thanks to the cape's enchantment. With hardly a thought, shewalked out of the small prison and passed the two guards. Her horse was waitingfor her behind the jail, out of sight of the guards. Quietly she mounted. Snowmuffled the hoofbeats as the Shark headed toward Mistledale's single main gate.The idiot guards there noticed nothing.

According to Rhynn, the monster wanted to return toEvermeet, the elven homeland. The Shark snorted with contempt. Did the blooderactually think he could cross water? No, he'd be stranded along the Sword Coast, probably in Waterdeep. He already had a three month head start. She'd have toride hard to catch up with him.

The Shark turned her mount westward, toward the placethat was becoming known as the "City of Splendors," and kicked theanimal savagely.

The hunt was on.

A bawdy song spilled out of the Orc's Head Inn. TheShark, clad in demure feminine attire and appearing deceptively fragile,entered the noisy tavern. She brushed snow off her cape as she observed thenoisy, slightly drunken crowd, then unobtrusively seated herself in a shadowedcorner. The blooder wasn't there yet, but her sources had assured her he wouldmake an appearance that night.

She had only been seated a moment when a pretty youngbarmaid plunked a foamy tankard of ale in front of the Shark. The girl wassmall but full-figured, with a tumble of golden curls cascading down her back.

"On the house tonight," the barmaidexplained. "Shallen Lathkule-" the girl gestured to an extraordinarilyhandsome youth surrounded by merry companions-"is to be wed tomorrowafternoon. He's buying drinks for all, in memory of his lostbachelorhood."

"Well, to Shallen and his bride. He seems to be apopular young man," ventured the Shark, hoping to draw the barmaid intoconversation. Perhaps Shallen knew the blooder.

"Oh, he is indeed. Friendly as you'd like. Andtalented. Crafts the prettiest baubles this side of Evermeet, so theysay."

"He's a pretty bauble himself, isn't he?" joked the Shark.

Before the girl could answer, the door opened and thebarmaid's eyes lit up with pleasure. The Shark followed her gaze-and her owneyes flashed in excitement.

A slim figure entered, carrying a large crate. Heleaned on the door to close it behind him. Though he wore a gray cloak over hisblue tunic, his shoulder-length hair was uncovered, brilliant wheat-golddusted with snowflakes. No hood shadowed his fair features and bronze skin. Hiseyes perused the scene with subtle caution, a furtiveness that the Sharkrecognized. The silver gaze settled on her for a moment, then moved on.

Her elf vampire had arrived.

She watched him intently as he moved gracefully to aspot near the door and set down his crate. Unobtrusive as he was, Shallenspotted him.

"There you are!" the young man criedhappily, extricating himself from his less sober companions. "Khyrra toldme to talk you into coming to the wedding tomorrow."

"I'm afraid I cannot," replied the elf. TheMistledale folk hadn't exaggerated when they had described the blooder's voiceas sweet, like music. "But this might take the sting out of myrefusal."

With a small dagger, he cut the rope that had securedthe crate and pulled out a small statue. Carved of soft pine, the figurine wasa mere eight inches high, but the moment the elf brought it into the light, alleyes were upon him and his work.

Balanced in his golden palm was a miniature of Lliira,Our Lady of Joy. Her long hair flowed about her, merging into her swirlingdress as she danced in sheer delight. One hand was raised, palm flat, while theother one curved around her body, following the drape of her garb.

"Her hand is empty, but there's a little hollowright here," the elf pointed out. "Fill it with a jewel that has aspecial meaning for you and Khyrra. Our Lady of Joy will stand in my stead atyour wedding tomorrow."

Shallen's blue eyes were wide and sparkling withtears. The Shark's own eyes narrowed. How easily tricked they were, all ofthem-Rhynn, Shallen, and probably that little barmaid as well, judging by herreaction to the elf's entrance. Like the vampire who had made it, the gift wasbeautiful, but surely also dangerous.

"Thank you. I-" Shallen's throat closed upand he turned back to the bar, embarrassed by his emotion.

"Too much ale," quipped a friend.

The awkward moment dissolved into laughter, and theperformers resumed their tune. Though the music was loud enough to drown outmost conversation in the tavern, the Shark had come prepared to eavesdrop. Sherested her chin on her hand, ostensibly engrossed in the singing. As she did,she held a tiny, perfectly formed horn to her ear, easily concealed by herflowing black locks. She whispered a spell, and the voice of the barmaid cameclearly to her ears.

"That must've taken you months! What's Shallendone for you that you give him so pretty a thing?"

The elf glanced back at the jeweler and said, "Hewears his youth and happiness like a beautiful robe, for all to see and sharein. That's enough. When it's time for you to get married, Maia, I promise I'llgive you and your husband something even prettier."

Maia's response was an uncertain laugh.

"Don't know as I'll ever have a husband,"she said. Slender, nervous hands gestured at her body, a shade too ripe formodesty, and her beautiful face, a touch too hard for innocence. "Most menlike uncharted territory, Master Jander, and I'm more like their ownfields."

The vampire reached to still her suddenly anxioushands.

Gently, he said, "You told me something of thatsort six months ago, when I found you in the City of the Dead. I told you thenthat your past need not destroy your future. I was right-Kurnin hired you atonce, didn't he?"

A sheepish smile played on her full lips.

"Aye," she admitted. "But, MasterJander, none of these people know what I am!"

Her voice had dropped to a near whisper, and the elf'steasing expression grew more solemn.

"You're wrong, Maia. They know what you are. Theydon't know what you were, and that no longer matters."

"You think so?"

"I know so."

As Shallen had been a moment earlier, Maia seemedclose to tears. She blinked them back and allowed herself a true smile,revealing the purity of the beauty that lurked behind the hard facade."You'd charm the very birds off the trees," she laughed, trying tolighten the mood.

Just as he's obviously charmed you, the Shark thoughtwith a slight sniff of contempt. Charmed you into being his next meal.

Maia left to refill the mugs of the celebrants, andthe elf turned his attention to his wares. He carefully emptied the crate of atleast a dozen small carvings, turned it over, and spread his cloak over themakeshift table.

The Shark's heart beat faster with anticipation. Whatshe was about to do next was risky, but it was part of the deadly game sheloved to play, needed to play. She rose and went to meet her quarry.

The vampire glanced up as her shadow fell across him.The Shark noted, as if she needed further proof, that the undead cast no shadowof his own in the flickering lamplight.

"Your work is impressive," said the Shark.

She met the vampire's gray eyes evenly. There hadn'tbeen a blooder yet that could charm her, but she enjoyed the danger of flirtingwith the possibility. To her disappointment, the golden vampire didn't eventry. He merely continued placing his carvings on the crate.

"Thank you," the blooder replied.

"Do you have your own shop here inWaterdeep?"

"I find it more congenial to work during the dayand visit different taverns at night."

I'll bet you do, the Shark noted silently.

She ran a finger along the hull of a tiny, incrediblydetailed elven sailing vessel and said, "People are freer with their coinwhen their throats are wet, I would imagine."

He chuckled politely. "Perhaps they are. Do youlike that piece?"

"I do, but I don't have enough with me to buy ittonight," the Shark replied, feigning disappointment. "Could I cometo your home tomorrow and purchase it then?"

"I value my privacy when I work," respondedthe vampire, a touch too swiftly. "I'll be back tomorrow night. Shall Ikeep it for you?"

"I have an engagement, but I'll send one of myservants for it. Who should she ask for?"

"Jander Sunstar," the elf replied. "Andyou are?"

"Shakira Khazaar. Thank you for holding the piecefor me."

"Standard business practice. I'd hate to lose asale," Jander answered.

There was a strange expression in those silver eyes,and the Shark felt vaguely uneasy. She had done something wrong. She hadgotten careless somehow. The thought was like a slap in the face. She smiled,hoping to allay his suspicion, and was relieved when he returned the gesturewith the artless, seemingly genuine smile she had seen him use with the others,his "friends." Still, she felt his eyes boring into her back as sheleft.

Once outside, the Shark crossed the street and slippedinto an alley. After making sure she had not been observed, she drew the hoodof the cloak over her head. Woven and ensorcelled by her own hands many yearsago, the cloak not only made her invisible, but also disguised the auraproduced by her body heat-something vampires could see. The snow-speckled windwas strong, but she maneuvered herself so that it blew directly in her face.Though she was now invisible to the eyes of blooder and human alike, she wasnot about to risk being betrayed by her scent.

Her wait was not long. Just as the inn closed, the vampireemerged. The barmaid Maia was with him. Carefully, silently, the Sharkfollowed, noting that Jander deliberately left bootprints in the snow,perpetuating the illusion that he was nothing more than an ordinary elf. Toomany blooders, used to walking without tracks, forgot that little detail.

Maia and the vampire chatted quietly as he escortedthe girl to her home, a single room atop a tailor shop. The Shark waited forthe inevitable. The stupid girl, hypnotized by the creature, would invite himin. Of course he would accept, then drink his fill. That was the way it worked,and the Shark never interfered. She knew from a particularly harrowingexperience in Suzail that it was unwise to startle a feeding vampire.

Her expectations were fulfilled. Casually, Maiainvited the vampire inside, as if she had done so often. Courteously, theblooder accepted. The Shark waited with practiced patience, ignoring the cold.Eventually the vampire emerged, descended the stairs, and turned to stride downthe street-still taking care to leave footprints. The hunter followed, slightlypuzzled. Rather than assume the form of a bat or dissolve into mist, Janderchose to retain his elf shape and simply walk the distance. He seemed tense,though, and repeatedly glanced over his shoulder.

He thinks someone's following him, she realized suddenly.How could he know?

The Shark's mind raced back to the incident at theinn, and she finally recognized what she had done to arouse the blooder'ssuspicions. She had not asked the price of the carving. Shame and fear rolledover her, bringing hot blood to her invisible face. Idiot! her mind screamedsilently. How could she have jeopardized herself so? Her carelessness couldhave cost her life-and might still. At that instant, Jander paused to looksquarely at her, just for a moment. The Shark's heart lurched. . But no, hehadn't seen her. The blooder turned and continued on his way.

At last he stopped in front of a small, stone cottagenear the city's outskirts. It wasn't until Jander removed a key and unlockedthe door that the Shark understood, with some surprise, that that was thevampire's home. The wooden shingles and door were solid and in good shape.Beneath the shuttered windows stood the winter skeletons of rose bushes,carefully pruned and planted in neat rows. With a final, anxious glance around,Jander carefully knocked the snow from his boots and went inside.

The Shark tasted disappointment like ashes in hermouth. What kind of a challenge was a vampire who planted rose bushes? Howcould she prove herself against so feeble a foe? Surely something as exotic asan elf vampire ought to push her to her limits, test every bit of clevernessand skill she possessed! She almost felt that she could walk in right then anddispatch the creature without breaking a sweat, but her earlier carelessnesstempered her resentment. She would come back the next day and kill him. Itwould be easy, she knew, yet she still needed to devise a back-up plan just incase something went wrong.

With a final, disgusted look at the cozy cottage thatwas home to a vampire, she turned and retraced her steps to town. There was onemore thing to do that night.

Protected from all eyes by her magical cloak, theShark arrived at the blooder's cottage the following afternoon.

The vampire's domicile was part of a small row ofhouses, which all seemed vacant. Shallen Lathkule's wedding, held at the otherend of Waterdeep, had indeed drawn a huge crowd. With speedy efficiency, the Sharkpicked the lock and slipped inside. Closing the door behind her, she allowedher eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness, then looked around.

On the ground floor of the two-story building, she sawnothing sinister, apart from the shutters that were nailed closed and coatedwith pitch to seal out sunlight. There was a large workbench, with thewoodcarver's tools neatly organized. Half-formed carvings sat patiently onshelves. Where they were not covered with shelving, the walls bore lovelypaintings and tapestries. In one corner, carefully preserved, was a suit ofmail, a sword, and a shield. Relics, no doubt, from the vampire's days as aliving being. The stone floor was strewn with fresh rushes. Small squeakingsounds came from behind a curtain toward the back. Senses alert, the Sharkmoved forward carefully and drew back the curtain.

Dozens of rats milled about in a large pen. Shewatched them carefully for a few moments, aware that sometimes such simplebeasts could be controlled by vampires, but the rats behaved in a perfectlyordinary fashion. Wrinkling her nose at the smell, she let the curtain fall.

"Between meal treats," she said softly. Mostblooders kept something of the sort on hand.

She checked the wooden floor for any hidden doors, butfound none. The Shark frowned, puzzled, and she glanced at the ladder that ledup to the upper floor. Most undead liked their lairs cool and dark, belowground if possible. The Shark shrugged. Upstairs, downstairs-it made nodifference to her. Soundlessly, she climbed up to the small loft. She raisedher head cautiously, then drew a swift intake of breath.

The vampire had no coffin. Neither did he he rigidwith his hands neatly folded atop his chest. He slept sprawled on the floor,arms and legs bent at unnatural angles. The beautiful features that had smiledin the lamplight the previous night were contorted in what looked like fear.For an instant, the Shark hesitated. She'd never seen a blooder sleepin that position. Could she possibly have been wrong?

No, she decided in the next heartbeat. She had neverbeen wrong where blooders were concerned. Quietly she climbed the rest of theway up and walked carefully over to Jander. No chest movement. He was certainlydead-but why that position? Then it came to her. Blooders slept as they haddied, and most had been laid out and buried in coffins. Jander Sunstar hadobviously met his vampiric fate in a less tranquil fashion and had never seen aproper ritual burial.

She leaned forward for a better look, and the hooddropped into her eyes. Annoyed, she slipped the hood to her shoulders,instantly becoming visible. It didn't matter. Jander, like every blooder she'dever slain, was vulnerable, unable to move, let alone fight, during daylighthours. He would die, too. The only question in her mind was how she would killhim. Her strong hands fell to her wide belt, which hosted her tools. Jander'scontorted position did not give her a clear shot with her favorite weapon, asmall, specially crafted crossbow she could wield with one hand. She had to gowith the traditional implements-the stake and hammer.

Straddling the undead body, she placed the tip of thesharpened stake to his breast.

She raised the hammer and said the words that shealways uttered before a kill: "The Shark sends you to the NineHells." Then, in a disgusted tone, she added, "You were tooeasy."

A gold-skinned hand seized her left wrist. Silver eyesgazed up at her.

"Not that easy," replied the vampire.

The Shark recovered almost at once from her shock. Aquick flick of her wrist liberated a small glass ball from up her sleeve.Liquid-holy water-sloshed within the delicately blown sphere. She shoved itdown toward the vampire's face, but he was unbelievably fast. He loosed hisgrip on her arm, his hand flying up in a blur to protect his face. The glassball broke, but instead of searing his eyes, the holy water ignited hisfingers.

Before the monster could take mist form and flee, theShark leaped clear, pulled her crossbow from its harness behind her back,aimed, and fired. The slim wooden bolt sank deep into the vampire's chest.Immediately his body began to desiccate; the flesh shriveled and turned fromgolden to dull tan. Gasping, he dropped to his knees on the wooden floor. TheShark watched eagerly, hungry for the creature's pain. She hadn't expected thevampire to retain so much of his former race that he could move during the day.But she had gotten him, in spite of-

Flailing golden hands closed on the shaft, and theShark realized that, though the wooden arrow had hit Jander's chest, perhapseven grazed the heart, it had not pierced that most vital of the vampire'sorgans. With a mighty tug, Jander pulled the shaft free. His golden colorationreturned in a rush, and his features took on their normal shape-save that thegentleness was gone from his face.

The Shark scrambled for the ladder, Jander in furiouspursuit. She could not defeat him there, not then, and was intent on leavingwith her skin intact. Behind her, she heard a savage growl and knew he hadtaken wolf form. She let go of the rungs and dropped the rest of the way downto the first floor, but not before sharp teeth clicked shut mere inches fromher fingers.

She hit the ground running. Shoving her left hand intoone of the pouches on her belt, she felt the gooey combination of bat guanoand sulfur.

"Twelve feet ahead, three feet high!" shecommanded, then pointed her right index finger at the far wall of the cottage.

A small ball of fire appeared at her fingertip,growing in size as it hurtled toward the wall. It exploded on contact,igniting many of Jander's beautiful carvings. Sunlight streamed into thecottage, and the Shark dived headfirst through the opening.

Despite the cushion of snow, she landed hard, and thewind was knocked out of her. For a wild instant, she wondered if the vampire,in addition to being active during the day, was also immune to sunlight. ButJander did not follow her.

The Shark rolled over, gasping for breath. At last shestumbled to her feet and peered in through the hole in the wall. He was nowhereto be seen, of course; he was hiding from the burning light. She was glad thatshe had taken the time to plan for just such trouble.

"Vampire,'' she called. Silence. "Vampire! Iknow you can hear me."

"I hear you." The same voice as the previousnight, melodious, but laced with pain and anger. The sound gave her pleasure.He had surprised her up in the loft. But she had a surprise for him.

"I have Maia," she said.

Silence. Then, "You lie."

"I followed you both from the inn last night,then I went back and got her."

A low groan was her reward, and her pleasure grew.

"Don't hurt her…. Please. She's innocent. Shedoesn't know anything about me. I'm the one you want!" The sounds ofmovement came from within. "I'll … I'll come out."

Alarms sounded in her head.

"No!" she cried with more emotion than shehad intended.

She'd fallen for that trick before, let a vampirevolunteer to die in the sunlight, only to discover that the blooder was also amage who could cast a sphere of darkness around them both. Unconsciously, herhand went to her throat, touched the healed scar there. She'd been bitten, butshe'd won-and had learned a lesson about the treacherous nature of vampires.

But if this blooder was acting, he was quite the thespian.The Shark heard real pain in his voice.

"Why would you want to do that?" she asked."What is Maia that you would surrender yourself?"

She wanted to hear his answer, but she kept alert forany attack.

From inside, Jander said softly, "She's lovely,and I appreciate beauty."

The Shark snorted. "So you were simply admiringher beauty last night in her room."

A pause, then, "She is untouched. I visit hereach night. I'm teaching her how to read."

"Untouched is hardly the term I'd use to describea two-copper whore. And as for reading …"

"What she did to survive does not concernme." Anger thrummed in the rich voice. "What she is now, and what shemight be, is what I care about. She is eager to learn. I want to help."

"You want to help, not kill, is that right?"

"Someone once gave me a chance to atone for mypast. How can I not do the same for Maia?"

The Shark couldn't help it. Her amusement grew untilshe actually laughed aloud. He couldn't possibly expect her to believe such awildly preposterous story.

"You are most entertaining, Master Elf. But Iremain unconvinced. If you truly wish to ensure Maia a pleasant future, you'llfollow through on your offer. My terms are simple: your unlife for her truelife. Meet me tonight, at the monument in the City of the Dead. If you don'tshow up-well, the slut means nothing to me."

Another pause.

"Most who hunt the nosferatu are holypeople," the vampire said at last. "You are not, Shakira Khazaar. Hadyou been, I would have rejoiced that you had found me, and I would have knownwhy I was hunted. You have asked questions of me, now I ask you: Why would youuse an innocent like Maia so? Why do you wish to kill me when I have done noone in this city harm?"

The Shark was taken aback by the unexpected query. Noone had ever asked her that before. She killed because that was what she did.She'd done it all her life-first in self-defense, then for coin as a hiredassassin. When the pleasure of taking human life paled, she'd turned tostalking the undead. Blooders were a challenge, and everyone wanted themdestroyed. She was no longer the thief Shakira, afraid and alone. Neither wasshe a nameless assassin, who hunted and hid in shadows. She had transformedherself into the Shark, who always caught her prey, whose prowess in the fineart of killing was sought after and widelypraised. But those reasons did not cometo her lips then.

Instead she spat venomously, "Because CaptainRhynn Oriandis wants you destroyed, you gods-rotted bloodsucker."

Jander's soft gasp made the Shark's hatred-blackenedheart skip a beat.

The fool believes me!

Her face contorted in a grimace that she thought was asmile as she left the vampire alone to agonize until nightfall.

For a place of death, the City of the Dead was verypopular with the living. Many generations and many classes of Waterdhavianscrumbled to dust side-by-side in pauper's graves and gorgeously carvedmausoleums: warriors, sea captains, merchants, commoners. The struggles theyhad with one another in life ceased to matter as, united in their mortality,they slept the final sleep. Waving grass, shady trees, and beautiful statueslent the place an aura of tranquility. During the day, the little" city" was a peaceful haven for visitors. Night, however, brought adifferent class of people to the cemetery-those who conducted business besttransacted under the vague light of the moon and stars, business handled bypeople who did not want witnesses.

The centerpiece of the necropolis was a giant monumenterected only a few years past. Designed to pay tribute to the originalsettlers of Waterdeep, the statue was a gorgeous work of art. Dozens ofindividual stone carvings, depicting life-sized warriors battling with allmanner of nonhuman adversaries, comprised the sixty-foot high monument. Wide atthe base, it narrowed with each level until a lone hero stood atop the fray.Frozen forever at the moment of greatest action, orcs speared theiradversaries, doughty swordsmen slew bugbears, and heroes and monsters alikedied in a variety of dramatic poses.

There the vampire had met Maia several months before,plying her unsavory trade. There he hoped to see her again that night.

Jander came in elf form, walking, but leaving no footprints.He stopped as he neared the monument. A pale white ring encircled the grandstatue, and the pungent scent of garlic filled the cold night air. There came asound of muffled sobbing, and he glanced upward. With deliberate irony, theShark had tied the barmaid to a conquering stonework hero, who stood atop themountain of fighters, arms raised in victory. The girl was lashed securely withrope at hands and feet. A piece of cloth shoved in her mouth stifled words, butnot her sounds of fear.

Jander walked slowly around the ring of garlic untilhe came to a two-foot wide gap in the otherwise unbreachable barrier. He hesitatedonly an instant before stepping into the circle. It was obviously a trap, butwhat choice did he have?

At the base of the monument Jander cried out and fell.His foot had been caught in a cleverly concealed, sharp-jawed animal trap madeof wood, not steel. And when he hit the ground, a second trap clamped on one ofhis hands. Holy water soaked the traps' jagged teeth. Steam and blood hissedfrom the vampire's wounds, glittering black in the moonlight.

With his good hand, Jander splintered the wood thatbit into ankle and wrist. On his feet at once, he glanced around, expecting asecond attack. None came.

He moved toward the statue more cautiously, his eyeson the snow in front of him rather than the monument itself. There were severalmore concealed traps waiting to close upon him. Treading delicately, he avoidedthem.

"I'm here, Maia," he called. "You'resafe now."

The stone figure in front of him was a warrior womanwith a single braid of long hair. He reached out to it, prepared to begin theclimb up to Maia. But the statue smiled and sprang to life. The illusion shed,the Shark drew a small crossbow and fired a wooden shaft directly at Jander'schest. She was no more than two yards away.

Jander grunted at the impact, but the shaft bouncedoff his body and fell to the grass.

The Shark gasped. The vampire smiled and tapped hischest with a golden forefinger. It clinked. Too late, the Shark recalled thechain mail shirt she had seen in Jander's cottage. She pulled down her hood,safely invisible, and jumped aside. The vampire's hand closed on her cloak,but she yanked it out of his grasp and began to run.

Jander followed without pause.

It took the Shark a moment to realize the blooderdidn't need to see her to follow her churning tracks in the snow. At once sheleaped straight up, seized the mighty arm of a stone orc, and hauled herselfatop it. She scrambled to the left, balanced precariously on a helmeted headand a stone shoulder, then she paused, holding her breath.

For a time, the golden vampire stood as still as astatue himself, gazing about as if he could penetrate the magic that concealedher by sheer force of will. His gaze traveled over and past her. Then Janderturned and began to climb.

When he had gotten halfway up the monument, the Sharklowered herself to the ground as quietly as she could. She readjusted the hoodof her cape, making sure it would not slip off as she moved. She hoped shecould complete her task before the vampire noticed her telltale footprints.

Hastening to the circle of garlic, she closed theopening with the remainder of the bulbs she had with her. He had no escape-hecouldn't even fly over the ring. She returned to the statue and followed thevampire up.

His movements were swift and sure, but not unnaturallyso. Jander was taking great care not to reveal his true nature to Maia. Thusfar, his deception was to the Shark's advantage. She followed at her own briskpace, climbing up the battling warriors as easily as if they were limbs of aparticularly gnarled tree.

He had reached the top. There was silence, and theShark knew that the blooder was staring at the holy symbols she'd drapedacross Maia's body. Carefully, quietly, the hunter continued to climb,listening all the while.

"Lathander, protect me!" came Maia'sfear-shrill voice as Jander pulled the gag from her mouth. "Don't kill me!Please! She-she told me what you are. I'll do whatever you want, but, please,don't kill me!"

Stunned silence. The Shark pulled herself up over adying archer, awaiting the blooder's response with malicious glee.

"No, Maia," came Jander's voice, filled withan ancient weariness. "I won't kill you. I just… here, let me set youfree."

The Shark was able to see him. Safely invisible, shewatched, tense, as Jander moved to untie the hands of the still-hystericalyoung girl. He successfully freed her hands and knelt to work at the knots thatbound her ankles. Light exploded from the small pink medallion hidden in thefolds of Maia's skirts. The Shark's spell had worked beautifully.

The vampire flung his arms up to shield his eyes,stumbled, and hurtled off the monument. The Shark hastened forward. One handgripping a dying troll, the hunter watched Jander's fall. His body shimmered,recasting itself into a small brown bat. He began to fly back up to the top.

Behind her, the Shark heard Maia sob as she workedloose the knots. Then, whimpering, the barmaid started the climb down from themonument. The Shark ignored her. Maia had served her purpose.

Instead, the hunter kept her attention focused on thevampire. Leaning out precariously over the raised stone swords and bracedjavelins that pointed up from below, she clung to the troll statue and withdrewa small pouch from her pocket. Grains of wheat fell in a shower over the bat.It was the Shark's favorite trick to play on a vampire in bat form. The grainwould confuse the vermin's senses, making it fly wildly. And that would givethe Shark a chance to prepare another, more deadly attack.

But Jander did not veer off. The little bat flittedcrazily for a moment, then continued moving directly for the Shark's face. Nocloak of invisibility could protect her from the heightened senses provided tothe vampire in his bat form. She could see the vermin's tiny,sharp-toothed jaws opening as it approached her eyes.

Startled, the Shark ducked. Her foot slipped from thesnow-slicked perch, and she dropped toward the upturned stone javelins below.She did not cry out, merely grunted when her death plummet was abruptly cutshort. A spear wielded by a bugbear had snagged her cloak. Her throat wasbruised from the sudden tug, but she was alive.

The Shark hung, dangling, swinging slightly back andforth. Her mind raced, and she cursed herself. She'd prepared no spells forsuch an eventuality-no floating, flying, or transformational magic. Gruntingwith the effort, she reached up, trying to grab the stone spear that held hersuspended. She could not reach it. She then stretched to the right as far asshe could in hopes of seizing the ugly, porcine face of an orc beating down ahapless stone hero. She grasped only empty air.

More frightened than she had been in decades, theShark craned her neck to look upward.

The blooder was a silhouette against the star-filled skyas he bent to look at her. Then, slowly, he moved. One arm reached down.

Crying incoherently, the Shark twisted away. Her cloaktore a little, and she dropped four inches. At least the vampire was too farabove her to reach her-but, ah gods, he could crawl….

"Give me your hand."

For a moment, she couldn't comprehend the words, sounexpected were they. Jander stretched his hand farther.

"Give me your hand! I can't quite reachyou."

The cloak ripped again. The Shark stared down at thenext tier of battling warriors and their pointed stone weapons. It was at leasta twenty-foot drop.

"I'm coming, Shakira. Hold on."

And indeed, the golden vampire began to climb, headfirst,down to reach her.

She suddenly knew, knew with a deep, inner certainty,that Jander Sunstar was not coming to kill her. He was coming to save her life,to pull her back to safety. She, the Shark, the woman who had spent her lifeperfecting the art of murder, had finally failed to kill. And having failed,she would owe her life to the creature she had sought to destroy. If hisforgiving hands closed on her, she would never be able to lift a weapon again.She would cease to be the Shark.

She didn't even have to think. Reaching up, she twinedboth hands in the cloak.

"The Shark sends you to the Nine Hells," shesaid aloud, but the words were intended for her own ears.

As the vampire's fingers reached out to her, the Sharksmiled like the predator she was, spat at his despairing, beautiful face, andtore the cloak free.