Page 8 of Time's Fool

And the number of humans involved in this crusade, bolstered by dark mages, had inflicted damage. Enough to send the Silver Circle scurrying for these islands, which would have worked better if there hadn’t been ancient covens already here. Long the leaders of magical Britain, the covens did not like competition, and liked it even less when the Circle started imposing their authority—and their laws.

Predictably, war had broken out, which had served the covens ill. Most of them had been subdued or forced to flee elsewhere, although a few remained bothersome. But the enmity was as real as ever.

And the last thing I wanted was to get into the middle of it!

“This wasn’t part of our agreement,” I added, not bothering to moderate my tone since the room wasn’t large enough for it to matter.

“It will be fine—”

“It will not be fine! The Circle knows who we are—”

“Yes, well, I didn’t mean to take the women with us,” he said, appearing slightly annoyed. “I’ll send some men for them tonight, after we’ve gone—”

“And I’m sure they’re going to believe that!” I said, gesturing at our audience.

“Whether they believe it or no, it is true.” He spread his hands and smiled at them. “I am Mircea, a representative of the Vampire Senate, and I do not lie.” He thought about it. “Well, not to you.”

I rolled my eyes and, when I found that insufficient, rolled my whole body around in a circle, hoping for inspiration from the damp, weeping stone.

I didn’t find any, but it gave the vamp a chance to keep talking, so he did.

“There was a revenant attack on a village recently—your pardon, but I assume you know what revenants are?”

He paused, why I didn’t know, since they were gagged and couldn’t answer, but maybe to give them time to nod.

Nobody nodded.

“They are the result of a vampiric change that goes wrong,” he informed them politely. “Or, rather, that is how they are usually made. A vampire, perhaps a new master, perhaps merely someone careless, makes a mistake and the result . . . is quite unfortunate. A mad thing, crazed and full of blood lust, but without the mental facilities to control himself. Very dangerous, as was recently demonstrated not thirty miles from here.”

He stopped to look about, then dragged over a small stool that had been hiding in a corner and sat on it. He took his time, arranging the fine garnet velvet of his surcoat to his liking, and making sure that it didn’t trail in the mud. He appeared fussy suddenly, almost effeminate, which was odd. I hadn’t noticed any such affectation before.

My eyes narrowed.

He crossed his shiny, expensive leather boots in front of him, and continued.

“Fairhurst, the village is called—or it was. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Lovely orchard; excellent cider.”

The witches had no comment on the village or its supposed cider production.

“Until yesterday, that was,” he continued. “When a group of revenants descended upon it and slaughtered every man, woman and child. The Senate’s operatives are still there, cleaning up the mess. I was delegated to clean it up in a different way—to find the person responsible for this heinous crime before she strikes again.”

He paused. “I am sorry to tell you, but we have reason to believe that she may be a witch.”

He looked at them for a moment, as if letting that sink in, then glanced at me. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

I just looked back at him. We weren’t getting anything out of these women, even if they knew something, and I had no idea why he thought they might. The Circle had picked them up in the general area, but it was a large one; these holding cells served all of Lancashire. Not to mention that, even if they did know her, they weren’t going to tell us that.

But I was getting paid, so I pushed off from the wall I’d unconsciously slumped against and got to work.

“As you may know, there are two ways to make a vamp or revenant,” I said flatly. “A bite—the usual way—or a curse. Not too many witches know how to cast the latter, however, and fewer use it, considering how the Senate tends to view that sort of thing. Therefore, we have someone who is knowledgeable, skilled, and doesn’t care about having dozens of vamps on her tail. Ring any bells?”

Of course, no one said anything. But one of them glanced at the woman to the right of her, and the vamp’s leg suddenly tensed. I played a hunch, all I had since the bastard hadn’t told me anything, and moved away from him.

He’d spoken in my head in the tavern; perhaps he had some latent mental powers he intended to use to spy on the women’s minds. That would explain the attempt to look harmless, to keep them from steeling themselves against him, and the request for me to take over the explanation so that he could concentrate. But he couldn’t read what they weren’t thinking about, so I needed to keep their minds fixed on this mystery woman.

And off of him.

“We even have a description,” I said, as their eyes followed me across the room. “Dark hair, young, pretty, with blue eyes. Or, at least, she assumed that form when cursing the life out of Thomas, Ellen and young Henry Seddon, the local gentry. The wife and boy died on the scene, unable to manage the change, but Thomas became a revenant who nonetheless remembered his attacker quite well.

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