The man’s eyes popped with indignation. “A man like me? What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t look important enough to you? Is that why you feel entitled to waltz in here bold as you please and take our livestock?”
“We haven’t taken any livestock. I’m a knight from Britannia City.” I wiggled my fingers. “I can show you proof, but I don’t want you to think I’m reaching for a weapon.”
The man almost smiled but seemed to catch himself. “You’re a knight?” He shifted his aim to Callan. “Both of you?”
“No, this gentleman is my client, Mr. Lincoln. That’s why we were at Albemarle together.”
The bearded man inched closer. “The gods must have sent you to us. We can use a knight in the village. We can even offer you food and shelter in exchange for your help.”
“What makes you think the thief will come back?” I asked.
“In the past fortnight, two cows and three pigs have been taken, along with a carriage.” His brow wrinkled. “The livestock I can understand, but the carriage wasn’t much good to anybody. It had been in Nina Stark’s barn for years.”
“Not a huge loss then,” Callan said.
“No, but she also owned two of the pigs that were stolen.”
“And you owned the rest?” Callan inquired.
Confusion marred the man’s features. “No, sir. Sherman owned a cow. The third pig belonged to the Scotts.”
I understood the bearded man’s involvement. In a place like this, the cows and pigs didn’t simply feed the families that owned them. They serviced the entire village.
I angled my head. “Why don’t you lower your weapon and we can talk more about it?”
He glanced at the gun as though he’d forgotten it was there. “Yes, of course.” He lowered his arms to his sides and tucked away the pistol. “The name’s Rochester.”
Callan gaped at him. “You haven’t checked her credentials.”
Rochester’s eyebrows knitted together. “You don’t believe her?”
“No, of course I do. I’m traveling with her, aren’t I? It’s just that you’re taking her word for it. You should be more discerning.”
Rochester scratched his head. “So you think I should take the gun back out?”
Callan groaned. “Forget it.”
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” I asked.
Rochester jabbed an elbow to the side. “This is my store. We can talk inside.”
“So what makes you believe the thief will strike again?” I asked, once we were inside the general store. It was a small building with a mishmash of supplies. It had everything from soap to bottles of ale.
He leaned an arm on a nearby shelf. “Don’t see why they’d stop. They’ve been getting away with it and there’s more to be had.”
“Is there a pattern to the thefts?” I asked. “Every other night? Only between certain hours?”
Rochester stroked his beard. “None that I’m aware of. Nina caught a glimpse of the culprit one time. Now I think about it, she said there was a strange mark on the thief’s forehead, which neither of you has.”
I noticed the loaves of bread on the shelf just past his arm and my stomach rumbled. To his credit, Rochester didn’t remark on the sound. He simply reached for the loaf of bread.
“Why don’t we break bread while we talk? I’ve got a small table set up behind the counter where I take my breaks.”
Rochester started toward the back of the store, picking up a stick of butter along the way. “I promise to fix you a proper meal later, but I won’t make it through this conversation without eating.”
There was only one chair, so we stood around the table. Rochester smeared butter on multiple slices and set them on a plate in the middle. I was grateful for his kindness.
“Did Nina describe the mark on the thief’s forehead?” I asked, chewing hungrily.
“Looked like an eye. She didn’t have a weapon that Nina could see. Didn’t use magic neither.”
“Human,” Callan and I said in unison.
“Could be a Cyclops worshipper,” Callan remarked.
I shook my head. “She had a third eye not a single one.”
“Yes, but she didn’t actually have a third eye. She had one painted on.”
I looked at him askance. “Are you aware of any Cyclops worshippers?”
The vampire tossed a piece of bread into his mouth and chewed. “No. Doesn’t mean they don’t exist though. People will worship anything under the right conditions. Look at celebrity culture before the Eternal Night.”
I couldn’t argue with his assessment.
“She might be one of the Mierce,” I ventured. The Mierce were humans that dwelled in the borderlands in an effort to avoid vampire rule. It made sense that they might steal from small villages—they wanted to escape detection which meant avoiding towns or cities where a vampire presence was more likely.
Callan chuckled. “The Mierce? They’re nothing more than a bedtime story like fairies or elves.”
Rochester blew a raspberry, spreading crumbs across the table. He wiped them away with a nonchalant sweep of his sleeve. “You think they’re a fairytale, do you?”
Callan sat straighter and met the older man’s gaze. “Of course. My mother read me dozens of stories about them when I was a child. They’re nothing more than imaginative adventure stories.”
My head swiveled toward him at the rare insight into the vampire’s childhood.
“I can assure you the Mierce are very real.” Rochester bit into a slice of bread like a dog attacking a bone.
“Have you had experiences with them?” I asked.
“Not directly. Seemed more likely to be strangers passing through like yourselves.”
Callan parted the crust from the bread. “And where would someone simply passing through manage to store a broken carriage?”
“There are all manner of hiding spots in these parts. Crags. Woods. Hills. We have it all.”
This part of the country was dramatic and beautiful, I’d give him that.
“Do you think the Mierce are dangerous?” I asked.
“I never got that impression. They stick to themselves. People I know have only crossed paths with them when they ventured too close to the borderlands, which don’t happen very often.”
“You haven’t convinced me,” Callan said. “Substitute the Mierce for fairies and elves and it’s the same story.”
Rochester dusted the crumbs from his beard. “I agree that fairies and elves don’t walk among us anymore, but they were once as real as you and me.”
Callan leaned his back against the counter. “If that were true, then why wouldn’t they be here now? Surely the Eternal Night would’ve allowed them to emerge from the shadows as well.”
Rochester puffed out his ruddy cheeks. “What kind of education do you get up there in the north? They lived centuries ago alongside witches and vampires and werewolves, but their magic was diluted over time until it was too weak to survive. More and more their kind married and procreated with humans until there was nothing left of them but their stories.”
“And how do you know all this?” Callan asked, his voice like velvet.
“I’ve got fairy blood on my mother’s side,” he said. “Can’t do any magic, of course, but we can trace our lineage back to when every hillock in these parts housed a fairy family.”