Sister Margaret

I didn’t need to go looking to find Xaphan; I knew exactly where he was. Two decades of hunting creatures like him had given me knowledge no mortal should have nor want. I knew where to find him and how to kill him, but that was the easy part. Catching him at a vulnerable time and getting through his security would be the challenge.

Xaphan was a vampire, a leech. He thrived on misery, survived on blood, and lived for far longer than any human could. He hadn’t lived this long through luck, but through skill and attention to detail. Not only would I have to find my way to his resting place, I would have to go through the veritable army of followers he’d set in place to guard him while he slept the daylight hours away.

I’d ended the lives of innumerable men and creatures; if the Gods permitted, I wanted to do it for decades to come. Normally, I’d make a trip to one of my favorite mages, load up on spells and then storm the vampire’s residence. A fireball or two would take out all his followers, and you’d be surprised how fast an item enchanted to cast “sunlight” at a word will turn a voracious vampire into a pile of stinking dust. But this time I felt as though I might need more. Something about this Xaphan, and the job in particular, tickled my mind. I wanted to do it right, to make things up to Charmaine. I wanted to help her now, even though I’d been unable to do so then. I think that caused part of my hesitation to do it the usual way—part, but not all.

Rumor on the street was, in addition to surrounding his coffin with followers made loyal to him with promises of immortality, Xaphan used innocent hostages. Charmaine’s story about one of her girls gave credence to this tale, and so I hesitated to go in with fireballs blazing. No, this would take more stealth and more weaponry than I alone could provide.

Bayne could be a bit of a barbarian at times; however, he owned the most unbelievable sword you ever saw, and an unparalleled skill with it. I knew where to find him; he was as constant as the sun, that one.

I opened the door to Llewellyn’s whorehouse and took a quick look around the tap room. Haven was, perhaps, the only city in existence where most anyone could be welcome. Only here could you see elves drinking with dwarves, or reptars drinking with humans. Even so, Bayne was never difficult to spot; even here, he stood out.

He had white hair—not blond like what you might see on a pure human, but as white as bone—and his eyes were an icy blue that made women go weak in the knees. Though he wasn’t beefy, I’d seen him heft full-grown men over his head and through windows without breaking a sweat. Rumor said his father was an incubus; if true, that would account for his incredible strength. Then again, how do you ask a man if he’s half demon? Walk up and say, “Hey buddy, you got horns under that creepy colored hair?” Not a good idea, unless you worship the Goddess of Pain. I never did find out how true the rumors were, but it didn’t matter: he could swing a sword like no one you’d ever seen, and he worked for cheap if you told him it was for a good cause. Yes, Bayne was the man I needed at my side for this job.

He was currently sitting up on a mound of pillows with a tankard in his hand and a gaggle of giggling whores spread out around his feet like a harem. I didn’t have time to admire the view; it was almost midnight, and I intended to strike at dawn.

“Bayne, you up for a job?” My voice cut through the inane chatter of the girls at his feet like a lightning bolt through a tree. He caught my eye and nodded, and I took a seat at the bar and waited for him to disentangle himself from his fan club. After stepping over the girls scattered around him he swaggered over to me and plopped himself down on the stool at my side.

“What kind of job, Michael?”

Straight to the point; no messing around or lame attempts at chit-chat. Yet another reason why I liked the guy.

“It’s a leech.”

Bayne’s eyebrows shot up and he began to stand. I interrupted his movement by continuing quickly. ”You don’t have to go near the vampire, that’s my part of the job. I need you to take out his minions. I can’t use my usual methods because they kill indiscriminately, and there is a good chance he has innocent hostages.”

He sat back down, looking at me intently with those ghostly blue eyes of his. Then he nodded.

“You know I won’t deal with vampires. The only reason I’m even considering accepting this job is because it’s you offering it.” He snatched up a toothpick from the bar and started twirling it between his lips. “What’s it pay?”

Ah, what’s it pay. The question I’d been dreading above all others. Truth be told, Margaret couldn’t pay me. Followers of all the main religious orders swear an oath of poverty. Rakkir was no different. Hell, I couldn’t have asked her to pay me anyway, even if she could afford it, not after I’d abandoned her when we were kids. I owed her this job.

What’s it pay? I’d have offered him cash out of my own pocket if I could, but though I didn’t follow any of the Gods, I lived as if I did. Bounty hunting and vampire slaying doesn’t pay nearly as well as you might think.

“What’s it pay?” I sighed, and then turned to give Bayne my best look of sincerity. “I’m afraid it pays only whatever you can take off the corpses.”

He spat the toothpick out and took a long swig from the tankard in his hand. ”Vampire minions? Hell, I could make more robbing a stranger on the street!”

“True, but it’s for a good cause.”

“What cause? Lining your wallet?”

“No, it’s for Sister Margaret.” He had a soft spot for whores, and Charmaine was practically their patron saint. I hated manipulating him this way, but I really needed him with me on this job.

“For Sister Margaret, eh? How’s she figure into this?”

“The leech, Xaphan, has been charging all her girls for protection. From himself, of course.”

Bayne nodded, rolling his eyes. “Of course.”

“Well, the girls who can’t pay get hurt, or worse, and at least one of them has been abducted.”

“I suppose I can take the job, seeing as how it’s for a good cause and all. But there is one condition.”

I knew what he was going to say, the standard condition everyone placed on a job involving a vampire. All the same, I nodded and lifted a brow to make like I couldn’t wait to hear it.

“If I get turned, you need to kill me.”

His eyes held my own, their creepy color searing me the way Charmaine’s had earlier. His intensity impressed me. No one wants to become a vampire, excepting only their deluded minions. A vampire is undead, so before any job involving one all the people going out swear to one another that if they are turned, they’ll be killed. Death is always better than undeath. Always.

Bayne stared at me with a forcefulness I’d never seen before. He didn’t ask me to kill him if he were turned, he demanded it. I wondered, yet again, what it was with him and vampires; but really, it didn’t matter to me. So I nodded and, with as much conviction as I could force into my voice, said, “If you get turned I’ll kill you. I swear.”

~*~