Cameo and the Vampire (6 page)

As he moved closer, he made out a sign just up ahead ...
Hangingford
. The town of Hangingford. The girl and the well were lit up in the golden glow of a torch, still burning in a lamp overhead. The town seemed very cheery for having such a dreadful name.

"Hello," he offered, grinning.

The girl was close to his age, but small, with large, brown eyes and long, brown hair that she wore in braids; they swished when she walked, touching the hem of her gown. "Are you alone?" she asked.

He looked around, "Yes."

"Oh. We thought that you had more friends."

"I did. I tried to persuade her to come with me, but ... she has her own path."

She nodded sadly and began to walk up the street, motioning him to walk beside her. "I'm Sage."

"Kyrian."

"I like that name."

"Thank you. I've heard it means s
hrine
in the old Lockenwood language."

"Why in the world did they ever change it?" She smiled thoughtfully at him. "It's so much prettier."

He blushed.

"Were you far from here when you received the cry for help?"

"In Shandow."

She stopped and looked at him. "Truly? You were able to receive the message I sent from that distance? It was quite a long way."

Kyrian readjusted his shoulder-pack self-consciously. "My grandfather's spirit tells me things sometimes, too. Sometimes, if the message is too far away ...."

"Oh. Yes, that might explain it. Well, come on. Let’s go inside. No point in discussing all of this out in the cold, is there?" Sage patted her mittens together, knocking off some of the snow, and led him up a path to a gray building.

By the looks of the building, Kyrian determined that it was another temple. The spires reaching toward the sky suggested it was a Temple of the Sun, larger than any he had seen before.

She opened the door and stomped her boots just before she entered. "Come along. Several others have joined the cause in the past couple days."

He removed his fur-lined gloves and stuffed them into the pockets of his coat. There was a fire burning in the hearth up ahead, and candles in sconces on either side of the room lit up the beautifully detailed frescoes.

Kyrian sucked in a quick intake of air as he beheld the splendor of the place. There was the faint smell of incense that permeated the pews, the podium, and the hanging tapestries. The place made him realize that he had forgotten how much he missed living in a sparse room in a temple, working with his grandfather, being an acolyte.

Sage unwrapped the long scarf she was wearing and removed her overcoat. She watched him as he marveled at the murals dedicated to the God of the Sun. "You're an acolyte, aren't you?"

Kyrian broke from his reverie and turned toward her. "Um ... I was. I was—"

"Oh, hello!" came a new voice from behind them. A young man in dark robes extended his hand to Kyrian. "I thought I heard someone talking out here."

"This is Caith," Sage said, pointing to the young man of about Kyrian's age who had just joined them. "And Caith, this is—"

"Kyrin ... isn't it?" the lad asked, grabbing an apple that had been left as a gift for the gods.

"Kyrian."

"Ah, Kyrian, so close!"

"Very close. How did you know?"

He tapped his temple with one finger. "A dream. I dreamed you would come."

"Oh." He was warm now. The room was hot. A single drop of water trailed down his face, much to his chagrin.

"Why don't you remove your coat?" Sage suggested.

"Hmm, yes," he said, absently running a hand over his wet hair, rumpling it.

"You've had a rough walk. I can see that now," she said, taking his hand in hers. "Why don't we get you something to eat?"

"Thank you."

"It's late. Should we make up a bed in Carrington's room?"

The girl rolled her eyes, "I doubt Gibson would appreciate that very much. Why not your room? You've plenty of space."

"Oh, all right."

"I think you'll live, Caith!" she called to him as he moved away from them.

He smiled, "It's fine. Poor lad, he looks worn out."

Kyrian followed Sage into a dining room, and she commanded him to sit as she moved into the pantry to get a few food items.

The lad sat down heavily. He had spent the last few days doing nothing but walking, trying to reach the people who had been mentally calling out for help. Nearly from the very day that he, Cameo, and Opal had set foot in Villoise, Cyrus had been bothering him to go back, go south. He ignored his spirit-guide's advice. He knew that he had to save Cameo, that it was the test of his faith—the test that Cyrus, when he was a living, breathing, man, had entrusted him with. Cyrus felt that Cameo had the spark, like Kyrian did—the call to help others, the spark of healing—although now, after all that she'd been put through, she would never be able to use that gift. But that's what she'd been meant for, and he wanted to save her from the evil of Haffef. To save her from herself. In the end, it seemed too much. She chose to rescue Opal, to kill more men, and after a while he had to say goodbye to his dream of saving her soul and of proving himself for the priesthood. His task would never be fulfilled. Still, though, he could help others.

A plate of food was sitting in front of him. A few pieces of red meat, pickles, and beans.

"Most of it is leftovers from dinner, I'm afraid. Just some smoked meat and, well, they do a lot of canning here, so we have plenty of canned beans and pickles."

"It looks delicious," he murmured.

"You really are famished."

"Yes, I am."

"You'll be tired of canned food soon enough." She set a mug of tea before him as well.

Kyrian took a bite. "Are you going to join me?"

"I'm not hungry." The young woman sat down at the end of the table and watched him eat. She was remarkably beautiful, with fine features, and a slight frame. He was feeling a little self-conscious about gobbling down the food. "Now then," she smiled, "what temple were you an acolyte in?"

"Um, Temple of the Moon in Yetta. Just outside the graveyard there."

"The moon? Forgive me, but you're wearing an amulet of the sun."

"Oh, yes. I was going to study at the Temple of the Sun in Kings Basin ... but it burned to the ground."

"Didn't the Temple of the Moon burn to the ground as well?"

Kyrian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then regretted being quite so common in front of her. What was it Opal had said about manners? "Yes. An assassin with the Association known as Jules Maethelmaf burned them both. Murdered my grandfather ...."

"I'm so sorry."

He waved the notion away, "Thank you, but it's all right. You know, death is not the end; Cyrus is still with me."

"I know," she patted his hand, not seeming to care that he had just wiped his mouth on it. "It's still hard to endure such violence."

Kyrian sighed. It was the first time he had thought about it since it occurred. Being on the run with Cameo and Opal, he hadn't had much time to feel sorry for himself; there was always someone new trying to kill them, and someplace new to run to.

"The Temple of the Moon," she began again in a serene tone. "You must have performed a lot of funerals."

"Yes, too many. That's part of the allure of joining a priesthood that focused on the sun."

"Well," she looked down at his empty plate and then up into his blue eyes, "you haven't joined the Temple of the Sun, then?"

"No. No .... I don't think I'm going to. They have some requirements that I might not have."

"I find that a little hard to believe. I can see your aura. It's beautiful, golden. You're still pure; you could still join us."

He lifted his eyes. "Are you an acolyte here?"

"Yes. I was the person who called you. Well, once Caith and Carrington joined me here, we all sent out messages. Very few have found us."

"You're all in the priesthood?"

"Yes, that's right. Caith and I are healers … like you. Am I right?"

Kyrian nodded.

"But you have friends somewhere else, don't you?" she said suddenly, and he wondered if she could read minds. "Why didn't you bring them along?"

"Oh ... um, they wouldn't be much help."

"But when I connected with you in the dreams, you spoke of them. You said they were coming. Aren't they joining you?"

"Are you all of the Temple of the Sun?" he countered, applying one of Cameo's tactics in order to turn this conversation in another direction.

"No. No ...." She seemed thrown. "Carrington is of the Sky and Caith of Faetta. Well, you'll meet everyone else in the morning." Sage stood, adding, "It is late now, and I'm sure Caith has gotten a cot made up for you. Come with me."

Kyrian stood and followed her down a darkened hallway just off the dining room. It was cool and peaceful as they walked together. He enjoyed listening to the light
clip, clip
that her feet made against the stone floor, and the gentle swish of her garments as she moved ahead of him, until she finally pointed out a door.

"Caith?" She knocked.

The young man opened the door. His hair askew, he had clearly fallen asleep waiting for Kyrian. "Come in," he whispered roughly, brushing his short, dark hair from his eyes.

"Goodnight," Kyrian whispered to her before walking in. "Um, thank you," he blurted as the door closed on her, locking her outside.

"All right then," Caith pushed on a pair of spectacles. "Here you see I have made up a lovely cot for you, using only the finest in temple bedding. Only the best temples in Faetta carry some of these linens, let me tell you."

Kyrian glanced at the simple mattress stuffed full of straw and a wool blanket rolled up at the bottom.

"It's great."

"Luckily we do have a small hearth in here to stave off the cold," he smiled.

Kyrian sat down on the mattress. In his current state of exhaustion, it felt like the most comfortable piece of furniture he'd ever rested on. Then he set his shoulder-pack on the ground. The room was a typical cell that generally housed one acolyte, similar to the one he had used at the Temple of the Moon in Yetta, but unfortunately they had to squeeze two people into this one. It was dark, except for the uneven glow of firelight, and it was a bit drafty. He was considering wearing his overcoat to bed.

"What's that?"

Caith followed his gaze to the small cage on the ground beside his mattress. "Oh him?" He tapped the side of it. "It's Boris."

A tiny white mouse peeked out of the small wood box he was hiding in. He seemed somewhat irritated that he was being roused.

"He's a mouse." Caith smiled, "They're supposed to be nocturnal, but he never seems to do anything but sleep."

Kyrian watched as the young man fed the mouse a large seed.

"You travel with him?"

"Well, yes. This is my first trip in a couple of years, actually, so this is really Boris's first trip ever."

"I've known people to have dogs, or a horse ...."

"Never a mouse, hmm? Well, he makes a good traveling companion, except he smells awful! Worse than a horse! But he is easier to smuggle in than a pet horse would be."

Kyrian smiled. "You're a Temple of Faetta acolyte, right?"

He laughed, "Yes. That obvious?"

"A little."

"And you're Temple of the Moon?"

Kyrian closed his mouth, surprised that Caith knew.

"Just a feeling. You're a little more
dark
than the rest of us."

"I am?"

"Peaceful, too. It's not all bad."

"Well, I should get some rest." He climbed into bed, clothes still on. "I'm pretty tired."

"Goodnight, Kyrian."

"You were one of the clerics calling for help, weren't you?"

"Yes," Caith murmured, now trying to sleep himself.

"Why do you need help?"

"To destroy the vampire of the Ponth Forest."

"What?" Kyrian turned over.

"Yes. It will be hard work. We need many clerics to expel him. He's a powerful one."

"Oh, gods ...." Kyrian whispered.

"And we will need them all." Caith brightened. "He's terrorizing the whole area here. A monster."

"Do you know his name?"

"No, but I've heard he's very tall with long black hair that drags on the ground. It will be a real test of faith to take on that demon."

"Yes." Kyrian fell back into a prone position on the mattress. A sudden realization dawning on him. The vampire they were about to take on was Haffef. "You have no idea."

* * * * *

Cameo climbed up the steps at the harbor and set Opal on his feet.

Jules clambered up behind her, breathing heavily. "Where are we?"

"Lockenwood," she said, appraising the boats frozen in the harbor.

"Is that the palace?" Jules asked, trying to get his bearings.

"Yes. We're behind it."

It was morning now. The sun was shining down on the back of the icy palace walls and the ice that was clinging to tree branches, bending them to the point of nearly breaking.

People were bundled up, head to foot, and they stared at the three of them fearfully.

"Probably wondering why we're milling around the harbor," Jules offered as the small group passed by.

Cameo's smile drooped. "Yes." And then she wondered if any of them had seen the two of them racing at supernatural speed across the Azez. Her thoughts turned to Kyrian for a moment, and she wondered if he had actually left Shandow at all, if he ever could have made it alone crossing that sea. Then she glanced over at the little group of people who were shuffling away from them at a bit of a harried pace.

She caught the look on Jules' face. A deadly look that mirrored her own thoughts; they were both considering killing the people who had seen them.

"Perhaps we could find a tavern?" Opal suggested.

"Of course." Cameo turned toward him, and a wind ripped through her stringy hair and tossed the cloak that he was wearing. "Are you holding up all right?"

He hesitated, weakened by the cold. "First rate."

"Good. We can't stay in Lockenwood. It's just not safe here for the three of us. Let's head south toward Yetta."