Page 53 of Bound By Darkness

Dragan watches him with more interest.

“We need a plan, and fast,” I say, wanting to resume the conversation. I level my gaze on Raflamir. “Reach out to your allies as soon as you can.” Then I face Eilish, as she takes her seat next to Baron. “You can’t leave this house, because you’re a dead giveaway.”

“Dead giveaway?” she repeats, frowning as she takes a sip of hot tea.

“You are angel?” Raflamir asks her bluntly.

She looks back at me as though to question whether or not she can or should respond, and I turn to him. “Yes, she is,” I answer.

“But she’s legal,” Dragan quickly adds. “She bears the marks.”

I can feel the sprite’s eyes on me and when I turn to face him, I find him studying me.

“What the fuck you be wearin’, elfie?” he asks, as he glances from my head down to my feet. “You look like you battin’ fer the other side or somethin’.”

Dragan chuckles beside the offensive creature and Eilish hides a giggle behind her hands. Screw them both! And that fucking annoying sprite too!

“Will both of you pay attention to the conversation, please?” I ask, irritated. I turn my attention back to Raflamir.

Raflamir nods, but appears nervous. “It no longer matters if an angel bears the marks. Variant has issued an edict—”

“That all angels be returned to him,” Dragan interrupts. “We already know.”

“Then why do you travel with—” Raflamir starts.

“That’s our business,” Dragan interrupts again and Raflamir merely nods, although he doesn’t appear happy with the lack of information.

“What are the chances that Variant’s emissaries would come here, to Earlann?” I wonder.

Raflamir shrugs. “There have been more visits of late.”

I watch my old friend closely. His shoulders sag and the pride I once associated with the elf no longer lingers in his eyes. He appears defeated, exhausted and older than he truly is. I can only imagine Variant and his men have made life in Earlann a living hell.

“How many visits of late?” I ask.

Raflamir shakes his head. “It’s too difficult to guess.”

“How many visitors crossed into Earlann before we arrived?” asks Dragan. “In the past lunar cycle or so?”

Saevel comes out of the kitchen then and places a large tray in front of Raflamir, piled high with fruit, cheese, and bread. Raflamir reaches forward and places a bread roll on his plate, but he doesn’t eat it. Nor does he reach for anything else. Instead, he busies himself by picking apart the roll. Raflamir’s gut is large and round—clearly, the elf is fond of food. Clearly, he’s on edge.

“I couldn’t say,” he replies.

Baron leans forward in his seat. A menacing air surrounds the vampire as he smirks. “The Steward’s duties are to oversee the day-to-day activities within Earlann and keep close eye on visitors, correct?”

“Yes,” Raflamir confirms, offering the vampire a quick nod.

“You, yourself, man the entrance into and the exit out of Earlann?” Baron continues. Raflamir nods again. “Do you not keep records of all who pass through the gateway?”

“I… I keep record, but it’s difficult to say how many visitors we’ve had over the last month or so.”

“Get the record book,” I order.

Raflamir’s eyes shift about the room, but he stands and walks over to a large, wooden cabinet that stands at the far side. After he whispers a charm, the cabinet doors open, and heretrieves a large, leather-bound book. Raflamir places the book in front of me and folds his hands in his lap as he takes his seat.

I open the book and immediately notice the final entry is listed as number 150. Of course, there’s no mention of our group.

“One hundred fifty entries?” I repeat. “That’s quite a lot of visits?” I ask.

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