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An old woman in an olive shawl and brown cloak stood across the wide street
where the next stretch of alley continued on. She pointed east along the
street, peering hesitantly around the alley corner.
"He went there," she said.
Chap was well ahead. So was Leesil. Magiere nodded to the old woman and ran
to catch up. The dog howled out again, this time pitched to an almost human
wail of anger.
"Go on!" Leesil shouted over his shoulder as he swerved right toward a cross
street. "Don't let him duck for cover. I'll try to head him off."
Magiere ran after Chap, falchion in her hand. They would have to harry this
undead closely to do as Leesil wanted. She caught sight of a tall man in
tattered clothing running ahead andknew this was her quarry. She felt it, the
same rage and vicious hunger that overwhelmed her each time an undead was
close by.
The few people she passed on the street were a blur quickly left behind. A
wide-bellied man called out angrily as she brushed past him. Magiere let her
dharnpir nature rise, and the night lit up in her sight. Hunger seeped into
bone and muscle little by little, and she gained ground, coming up behind
Chap.
The dog had the full scent of their quarry, and Magiere focused on keeping
up. Buildings blurred by. Even if she hadn't felt this thing for what it was,
nothing on two legs could stay ahead of Chap but a vampire.
She spotted the city's wall beyond the rooftops and realized they were headed
in the direction of the main gate.
The tattered man veered right into a side street.
Magiere tried to curse, but it came out a hiss. If Leesil managed to stay
parallel to them in the next street over, that thing was going to run right
into him. Chap let out a sustained howl as he turned to follow. She hoped
Leesil understood they now headed his way.
The dog rounded a corner. Magiere swerved, and her boots slid. She didn't
have all fours and claws to run on as Chap did. Her feet wouldn't hold the
turn at full speed.
She slammed sideways into the planking of a shop, spun on recoil, and fell.
The falchion tumbled out of her grip. The drag of her hauberk against frozen
mud brought her to a stop.
Chap wailed out ahead of her, and Magiere's anger cut away her control.
When she lifted her head, rising to her feet, her jaws pressed apart as her
teeth elongated. The night grew so bright that tears leaked from her eyes.
The fleeing undead skidded to a stop in the next intersection, as if
something blocked his way. Beyond him, in the next section of the street, a
figure crouched behind a small flame.
Magiere saw a white brilliance around his face, and the amber glow of his
eyes like tiny suns in the night.
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Leesil had gotten ahead of them, crossbow aimed and the quarrel lit. He
fired.
At the snap of the bowstring, Magiere charged, leaning to snatch up her
falchion. Chap closed in on their prey.
The quarrel stuck. The vampire's tattered shawl ignited.For an instant
Magiere's sight blurred painfully in the increased light.
She saw only the barest details. He was dressed like a poor city worker, and
the stench of urine accosted her heightened senses. She bore down upon him,
taking hold of the falchion with both hands.
The undead barely paused. He jerked the quarrel from his body and ripped away
the burning shawl in the same movement. He flung them at Chap and ducked into
another alley.
"Damn it!" Leesil shouted, as Chap dodged aside from the flames.
Magiere was first into the alley and didn't wait for her companions to catch
up. Chap's wail came behind her as she ran; then he passed her by. She
followed at the tip of his tail, hearing Leesil's angry breaths behind her.
Everything became instinct as Magiere's hunger focused on the undead fleeing
through the dark ahead of her.
Chane saw the quarrel an instant before it hit him and braced for the flames.
He did not have time to think or react. He was afraid& and this made him
angry.
He dreamed so often of ripping Magiere's throat out, but he could not face
her and Chap and Leesil all at once.And not on the run and unarmed.
The quarrel struck him with a sickening thud, and the air around his head
ignited into flames. He jerked out the quarrel, stripping away the burning
shawl as well. He flung these at the dog, and ducked into the nearest path to
run.
He had to reach the Ivy Vine without being seen.
Chane fled down the alley. Even if he eluded his pursuers' sight, hiding
would do him no good. That bitch dhampir or the dog would sense him, or the
half-blood's glowing stone would reveal that he was nearby. He simply ran,
twisting and turning into other paths wherever he could.
But he needed that instant out of their sight, and it came at the right
moment.
Chane spotted the Ivy Vine inn ahead. One block away he cut inward to find
the alley that ran behind it. He reached the back of the inn. The wailing grew
louder as his pursuers approached. Chane clawed his way up the wall, digging
hardened fingernails into crevices and cracks between wood planks. He hoped he
would not have to make noise by breaking the window.
As he reached the second floor, the window swung open. A hand reached out and
grabbed the back of his shirt. Welstiel heaved, and Chane toppled over the
sill into the room. He heard the window close sharply as he spun around.
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Welstiel crouched beside Chane, gripping his shoulder. They both froze and
listened. Welstiel held up his hand with the ring of nothing on his first
finger. It would hide them from the senses of the dog and dhampir, and even
Leesil's amulet.
The dog's wailing stopped. Chane heard frustrated snarls outside in the
alley. Welstiel put a finger to his tight lips.
Chane wrinkled his brow. He did not need to be told to keep silent.
Indeed, he was surprised at his own relief at being so well protected. Such a
thought brought distaste and a thin edge of self-loathing. He longed for the
rapture he had once known in the hunt and the kill.
But tonight, while Chane watched the nobleman sob in the alley, his mind
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