Chapter 3 - Chapter 3 (First Draft)

CHAPTER 3


Violent crime was rare within the walls of the capital city, even the “poorer” districts were more well off than similar ones in other cities. But having very strict crusaders often kept potential ne'er-do-wells at bay. So even this late at night, a woman walking by herself would be considered relatively safe. Vaneras herself was confident she could handle just about anything that may happen. Even so, she was completely unaware of the figure as it tailed her, quickly approaching from behind and roughly grabbing her shoulder. Its grip was strong.
Vaneras was caught off guard as she turned to face the figure, half expecting some drunkard. What she saw was a ghastly looking man with graying skin, sunken eyes and a mouth of sharpened fangs. It hissed at her and lunged as Vaneras instinctively brought her hands up to defend herself as it lashed at her, its fingernails sharp like talons that cut into her arms. Vaneras quickly saw an opening and struck it, swinging hard to its face. It stumbled lightly but was hardly phased.
Vaneras swung again, and again, pushing with a barrage of blows. She was sacrificing power for speed but she did not want to give this thing another chance to recover. But her efforts were in vain, the creature swung wildly, knocking her arm aside and tackling her. She fell to the ground, landing hard on her back, feeling her head strike the ground as it pinned her down, giving a hissing snarl at her. Its breath was vile and threatened to knock her out on scent alone. She struggled to fight it from her downed position but it easily restrained her.
It didn’t take time to savor its victory before it lowered its head, widening its jaws, wider than any man should have been able to as Vaneras struggled, unable to free herself as its fangs went for her neck, she braced herself for the pain she knew would come.
But in a single swift movement the creature was interrupted, a dark figure slid over them, striking it with something and knocking it off of her, it all happened so fast that it was already done before Vaneras realized she had been rescued. She looked up to her savior and found an equally dark figure as her assailant.
The figure was tall, its thin figure draped in a long, black cloak. It’s hood was drawn, covering its head but in one hand the figure carried a large scythe. Vaneras recognized this being as a Reaper. They were a rare sight but stories and whispers made their way across the land. Reapers were supposedly beings who were granted power from Thantaros, the god of death; they hunted down anything that insulted death’s domain. Primarily targeting necromancers and the undead, which would mean that this thing that attacked Vaneras was one such creature, assuming this Reaper wasn’t acting simply as a good samaritan. 
The Reaper didn’t speak, it eyed the creature for a moment. Holding the scythe in a low stance as it slowly approached it, it seemed to study the creature. “You have one opportunity to give up your master’s name,” It finally spoke, though its voice was more of a growl than anything. The creature responded with another hiss which was met with a wide swing of the Reaper’s scythe, the creature stepped out of the way, lunging in when the Reaper was open. It closed the distance very quickly. Vaneras thought it would tackle the Reaper as it did her, but the Reaper’s swift hand grabbed a small vial from within his cloak, smashing the small glass bottle across the creature’s face. The liquid erupted into a bright white flame that spread across the creature’s torso. It howled and shrieked in pain, flailing as it tried to put out the flames over itself. The Reaper responded with a swift swing of his scythe.
The creature’s flailing stopped, its head falling to the ground at its feet before its body fell limp, hitting the ground with a dull thud. Vaneras pulled herself off the ground, dusting herself off. “I suppose I should be thanking you,” she said. 
The reaper turned to her, the shape of his figure hidden beneath the black cloak, the only noticeable detail was the crimson mask the reaper wore. The design was simple and flat, there were barely any details that gave the appearance of a human face. It seemed to be carved of wood or maybe ivory. Two small beads of light shining from behind the eye holes of the mask. “Were you bitten?” he asked her bluntly.
Vaneras looked at him quizzically, “What? No, scratched me a little bit but no bites.”
He reached into his cloak and tossed a small vial to her. Vaneras caught it and looked it over. It was filled with a clear liquid. “Drink that,” he said, though it sounded more like a demand.
“What?” Vaneras asked, “Why?”
She immediately found the blade of his scythe at her throat, “Drink,” he growled, “now.”
“Alright, calm down, asshole,” Vaneras responded as she pulled the stopper from the top of the vial and downed the liquid. It was a vile and bitter taste, like strong medicine. She gagged and coughed after swallowing it. “There,” she said, trying to spit the lingering remains out. “What is this shit?”
“A blessed concoction,” He responded, lowering is scythe. Harmless to humans, it will prevent any lingering infections. And if you had been bitten, you’d have burst into flames from the inside out.”
“Thanks a lot for the warning,” she snapped at him.
“Had to be sure,” He said as they were quickly joined by two city guards.
“Did you find it?” One of them asked.
“Yeah, he did,” the other responded, spotting the body, nudging it with the shaft of his spear. They looked up and spotted Vaneras. “And who’s she.”
Vaneras opened her mouth to speak when the reaper interrupted her. “Victim,” he grumbled, “she was attacked, not bitten. I verified myself.”
Vaneras glared at him before the other guard spoke up, “And what is she doing out this late?” he asked.
Vaneras was about to answer but realized that it would only bring further questions that she didn’t want to have to answer. “Last I checked it wasn’t any of your business,” she answered, “has nothing to do with this.”
The guard was about to respond with a follow-up question but the reaper stopped him, “She’s right,” he said, turning to her. “Go home, and stay there until sunrise.”
“I was planning on it,” she grumbled, this guy was getting on her nerves.
“See to it she gets home safe,” the reaper told one of the guards, much to Vaneras’ own objection.
“And why should I?” the guard protested, “we got the bastard and last I checked I don’t work for you. My orders were to deal with this,” he kicked the creature’s dead body. “So as far as I’m concerned, my job is done.”
“This,” the reaper gestured to the body, “is a thrall. Little more than a pet allowed to scamper about town. They do not operate solitarily and are at the beck and call of a master, a master that will notice when its pet does not return and I will not allow another to fall victim under my watch. So you will make sure she makes it home, because if you do not, yours will be the second beheading I perform tonight.”
There was a dead silence, the reapers words were not an empty threat. “I’ll… make sure this citizen gets back home safely.” By that time Vaneras was already halfway down the block as the guard scampered to catch up to her.
“So glad I have such a brave bodyguard to watch my back” she said as he caught up with her.
“Watch your mouth you,” he started but stopped when Vaneras glared at him.
“You really want to be emasculated twice in one night?” she warned him, which was met with a defeated grumble.
The two of them were silent for a moment as they walked. “So what’s the deal with that guy?” Vaneras finally asked.
The guard grunted. “Son of a bitch shows up out of nowhere today, said he tracked a vamp to town, which we all said was bullshit. The city has wards all around it, placed there by God’s emissaries themselves. No way a fucking vamp gets past the city walls without bursting into flames. We only tolerated him because…”
“Because it’s a bad idea to piss off a cleric of the god of Death?” Vaneras interrupted.
“Because Delvos and Thanataros are on good terms,” he corrected her. “One must not rebuke Death when he knocks. Treat him as a friend lest one make Death an enemy.”
Vaneras rolled her eyes at the scripture being read at her. “Right,” she muttered.
“It’s also pretty much the only reason we don’t take him in for using magic. One of the few allowed instances. But of course the bastard turned out to be right. Almost makes me think he planted it himself.”
Vaneras thought quietly to herself, she doubted the Reaper planted a vampire for himself to hunt but she didn’t feel like arguing with the man as they walked back thest of the way to the house. The guard was more than happy to drop her off before leaving her in front of her home. She paused to make sure he wasn’t going to linger like a creep before she stepped inside. The house was silent but as she stepped past the living area, she noticed her father, he was sitting in a rocking chair in the corner, snoring as he slept. Vaneras assumed he dozed off while waiting for her to come home. Sometimes he still seemed to think of her as a little girl, but that was the curse of every parent she supposed.
She approached and gently shook him awake, he was slightly startled but quickly regained his composure. “Vaneras,” he grumbled as he woke up, she could tell he was about to interrogate her but he resisted. “You’re… back late,” he settled on, trying to make it more conversational.
“Yeah, I ended up going a bit farther than I expected, stopped for a drink or two,” she didn’t try very hard to try her lie, she didn’t expect him to press her. And she also didn’t want to worry him by telling him what had happened on her way home. “I’m gonna head to bed, you should probably do the same,” she told him, “You know how your back gets if you stay in that chair too long.”
He grumbled in agreement as he got up. “Now you sound like your mother,” he said, giving Vaneras a slightly gross feeling inside but she didn’t protest. “But you’re right. I’ve been meaning to replace this old thing. Maybe I’ll take the time to make a new one. The carpenter says he’s got a good batch of birchwood in…”
Vaneras stifled a yawn, “Well, you do that, I’m going to bed.”
“Goodnight,” Niklas called to her.
“Goodnight,” Vaneras responded as she headed up to her room. Once there she undressed and completely collapsed into her bed, sleep hitting her almost immediately.



l***l



Vaneras slept in the next day, exhausted from the previous night’s excitement, when she woke she could hear the faint but familiar hammarings of her father in the forge again. Did they get a work order? He would have woken her if they did. She didn’t think much of it as she got up and dressed herself. She followed the sound down and grabbed herself a bit of bread before slipping into the forge, she observed her father at work. It had taken her a moment to realize what he was working on.
“Are you working with silver?” Vaneras asked when he paused his work.
“Yeah,” he responded. “Apparently last night someone was attacked by a vampire, I’m told they were turned. Luckily the victim was dealt with before it could seriously hurt anyone. Brant says a Reaper was involved. He came by to warn me early this morning. It brought back a lot of… memories.”
“From your Crusader days?” Vaneras asked. Her father didn’t speak of those times often.”
Niklas nodded, “I only personally had to deal with vampires two or three times, once alongside a Reaper. But I know they can be a hassle to deal with, especially without the right tools. But once word got out this morning I was overrun with requests for silver ingrained weapons.”
“Silver?” Vaneras asked.
“Vampires can regenerate from nearly any wound,” Niklas explained, “but like most creatures of their ilk, they have a weakness to silver. A wound caused by a weapon with even just a bit of silver in its make will be much harder for the creature to recover from. Of course something crafted of pure silver is best but those are hard to come by and incredibly expensive. SIlver isn’t exactly easy to come by either.”
“So where did you get it,” asked Vaneras.
“Donated, actually” he said. “Those asking for weapons donated their own silver, jewelry mostly, a few nobles even handing over solid silver coins,” he chuckled. “I’ve got enough to accent a few knives and daggers, even a shortsword.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” Vaneras commented, “I could lend a hand if you’d like.”
Niklas nodded, “I could use it. Especially with your brother off with that girl of his.”
Vaneras chuckled, “Mother says you were quite the wild one at his age,” she teased as she grabbed a pair of the thick hide gloves from their place on the wall. Niklas only grumbled in response as Vaneras joined him.
The two worked for several hours, applying silver accenting to the various blades they had been given. They were rather quick rush jobs, Niklas had explained that blades made from scratch with silver was preferable but these would get the job done.
When they were finished with the small collection of weapons, Niklas set the finished works aside and grabbed a small box. “And while we’re here,” he said, offering the box to Vaneras. She was a little confused but opened it to reveal a collection of odd silver ornamentation, it was unclear where they originally came from. “I know you’re working on something of your own. All things considered I was hoping you’d consider adding them to your work. Especially considering current events.”
“What are these from?” Vaneras asked as she sifted through the pieces. 
“What remains of my Crusader armor,” Niklas explained as Vaneras looked up at him in disbelief. “When I retired the armor itself wasn’t of much value, old and damaged, but these parts were still good and I knew I could make use of them in the future for one thing or another. A few I sold when I needed to but there’s still enough here to make use in your project… if you want to, of course.”
Vaneras smiled sweetly at her father. “Yeah, I think these will do well. I think there’s enough here to coat the blade if we melt them all down,” she set the box down and retrieved her unfinished sword from where she left it. She hefted it up, and returned to Niklas. “Thanks,” she said quietly to him. Niklas smiled in response but otherwise said nothing as the two got to work, melting down what was left of the silver and molding it to the blade of Vaneras’ weapon, smelting it into place and attaching it to the sword. They even managed to fasten a hilt and guard to the blade. It was simple and would require some later carving and touching up but it was the basic structure completed.
At a glance it looked like an oversized knife, the single curved blade tapering off against a cross guard. The hilt still needed to be wrapped in leather and finished but the bulk of the work was done. The two admired it for a moment before Vaneras put it away.
“You’ve done some fine work,” Niklas said. “I suspect you don’t intend on selling it when it’s done?”
Vaneras knew he already knew the answer to that, but understood what the question meant. “No,” she agreed. “I’m… still not sure what I’ll do with it when it’s done, but I think when it’s complete I’ll have a better idea of what I want to do with it.”
Niklas nodded, “It’s getting late, we should deliver what’s done and hurry back before your mother has dinner ready.
They divided the items they had to return and Vaneras made quick work of returning them to their owners, collecting the remainder of payment. Overall it was quite a hefty sum, no doubt the people’s fear and paranoia of vampires influencing them to loosen their coin purses.
Vaneras was on her way back home when she passed through the city square, normally people would still be out and about as the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. But now it was mostly empty, the few people that were rushing home before nightfall made sure to avoid getting close to or even making eye contact with the dark and dreadful looking figure that stood stone still in front of the fountain that sat in the center of the square.
She approached the reaper and got a better look at him in the dimming sunlight. He really was covered from head to toe, what she thought previously was a cloak was more a long black coat, it clung to his lithe figure, though it appeared he was still wearing armor beneath.
“I see you’ve made it home,” his voice rasping out from beneath his mask, “You would do well to return there before the sun sets. The creatures are still lurking here.”
Vaneras couldn’t help but find herself amused at how serious he seemed to take himself, “Well, I just wanted to thank you properly for last night, I know I was kind of an asshole to you,” she said.
The Reaper was silent for a moment, one that seemed to drag on for minutes as the small pearls of light looked back at her from behind that crimson mask, as if they were piercing through her. It caused a chill to run down her spine before he finally responded. “Your appreciation is acknowledged.”
Vaneras was taken aback by his response but didn’t get a chance to say anything before she heard her father’s voice calling to her. “Making friendly with our ghastly guest I see,” he chuckled as he approached. Vaneras could almost hear the reaper sigh in annoyance as her father approached.
Niklas approached and held out his hand to the reaper, intending to shake but the cloaked figure didn’t take it. “Niklas Mercer,” he introduced himself, withdrawing his hand. “I used to serve as a Crusader and I’ve actually worked alongside others of your… organization. I just wanted to say that your work is appreciated, even if most people don’t know how to show it right.”
Again, they were met with a long moment of silence. Vaneras could only watch as the reaper stood so ghastly still, it didn’t even look like he was breathing before he finally shattered the quiet. “Well your words are… appreciated,” the reaper managed to grumble.
Vaneras suddenly felt the urge to get out of this incredibly awkward situation. She especially didn’t want her father to find out about her being attacked last night, though the reaper didn’t seem like he was going to say much in that regard. “Well,” she finally said, “I think we should get going, it is getting dark so it’s best not to leave mother and the boys home alone. I’m sure dinner is almost ready.
“I suppose you’re right,” Niklas said, giving the reaper a curt salute, “may your hunt go well, Reaper.”
He met them with a grumble in response as the two turned to leave.
“Are they all like that?” Vaneras asked when they were out of earshot.
“Give or take,” Niklas responded. “They carry a heavy burden, alongside the grief of their past lives.”
“Past lives?” Vaneras asked.
“In order to become a reaper, you have to make a deal with Death himself,” Niklas told her, “And there’s only one way to be granted an audience with him.” He let those words hang in the air
Vaneras glanced back at where the Reaper once stood, but he had already moved on. It made a lot of things she had seen in him in the brief time she had known him. It brought a great sadness over her image of him. This thought lingered with her for the rest of the night as they returned home
It was later that night when she woke, she sat up in her bed, her body was wet with sweat from the humid summer night. It didn’t help that since the vampire attacks, everyone had been locking their windows at night, herself included. But it also meant the room was excruciatingly stuffy. She sat there and tried to remember what woke her, a nightmare of some kind. But she couldn’t recall exactly what it was, either way she didn’t feel like trying to get back to sleep.
She wiped sweat from her brow as she got up out of bed, getting dressed before quietly stepping downstairs. She breathed in the cooler air of the downstairs space, even the forge was cooler than her room after the fires had been extinguished for a few hours.
She found herself back with her nearly completed project. All it really needed was a proper wrap around the hilt. They had plenty of leather stock around in case it was needed for other works. The process of binding the leather to the weapon was simple enough, but she took her time. It felt personal, a sense of closure came over her as she finished wrapping the hilt and looking over the completed work.
It felt good in her hands, solid with a strong weight, while overall some might say it looked like a gigantic knife, she appreciated the simplicity of it. After a short moment she was about to set it aside and try to go back to bed but she then heard a loud crash coming from outside. It sounded like it came from across the street, the couple ran a leatherworks shop. Vaneras was very familiar with them due to her own family doing a lot of business with them.
Her mind was already racing to whatever could have caused it and she was assuming the worst. There was no telling who else heard it but she couldn’t assume help was on the way. Without thinking any further she grabbed a thick blacksmithing apron as well as a pair of thick leather gloves. It wasn’t much protection but it was better than nothing. 
Sword in hand, suddenly feeling as if it weighed much more than it did before as she stepped outside. Across the street, she could see the front door of the building adjacent to her own had been broken down. Even now she could hear something rummaging around inside. Her heart was beating in her chest but she didn’t see any sign of tall dark and spooky so she took a deep breath to calm her nerves and gripped her sword in two hands, holding it out in front of her as she made her way inside. It was dark inside, with the cloud cover there wasn’t even moonlight to work with. 
This was a bad idea, she knew that. Foolish. She’d likely end up getting herself killed. All this in her head as he started to sweat, her heart racing yet she did not turn back. Would not, could not turn back. Her hands gripped her sword tighter as she pushed onward.
Whatever was here was moving upstairs, fast. She followed but as she made her way up the stairs, she heard a scream and the sound of a struggle, something hard hit the floor. She rushed down the hallway to the open door. But as she came to a stop in the doorway, she knew she was too late. The body of a larger man on the floor, even in the lack of much light she could tell his throat had been torn out. Nearby knelt something she struggled to describe, it appeared as a man but she knew it was not. In its arms it held a woman, biting into her neck. The woman’s body, weakly struggling to fight back. She was somehow still alive and still conscious even as this monster fed on her. It drained her of anything that could be considered life before Vaneras’ eyes.
It was a moment before Vaneras could move again, gripping her blade tightly she rushed it, wasn’t thinking but only acting on pure instinct. 
It was either distracted or didn’t consider her a threat as it barely acknowledged her presence. Possibly lost in the act of feeding as she rushed it, the tip of her blade struck home in its chest. Off center, she missed its heart as she kept pushing, knocking the creature back. It hissed and shrieked at her as it reacted to the silver on the blade, lashing out at her but was unable to reach her due to the length of her weapon.
She kept going, not even thinking about the window in her path as the both of them crashed through it. The both of them tumble out of the window  and down into the alley beside the building. The creature hits the ground first, somewhat breaking her fall as she tumbles to the ground, losing grip on her sword. She heard it clatter to the ground followed by a pain in her ankle as she fell. She ignored it and pushed herself back up, scrambling to find her weapon again before the creature regained itself.
Luckily, it was still reeling from the dose of silver it got the first time as she found her discarded weapon. She placed a heavy foot down on the creature’s torso, not giving a chance to fight back as she lifted her blade and swung downward, decapitating it in a single stroke.
She watched the head roll away, the flesh slowly turning to ash and crumbling away, followed by the bone shortly after.
She stood there, watching in silence as she caught her breath. Her mind wandered back to the two bodies left inside and a sense of shame washed over her. A deep pit of failure growing inside her, she dropped her sword as her legs gave out from under her. She felt weak as tears welled in her eyes. She tried to figure what she could have done, the only answer she came back to was: nothing.
It was then a dark figure loomed over her.
“I’d say this would be a good teaching moment,” The Reaper said, “An opportunity to give up on whatever it is you think you’re doing. But I know from experience this moment changes you, You should think about who this moment turns you into.”
“Real great fucking pep talk,” She glared up at him, “thanks.”
He gave a frustrated sigh, “If it makes you feel any better, but I know it won’t. You did stop this thing before it could take more lives than it already had.” He knelt down, “Are you injured?”
“Fucked up my ankle I think,” she admitted, moving her leg to show him.
He responded by removing the leather glove he wore, revealing a skeletal hand beneath. The sight of it surprised Vaneras as he muttered something she couldn’t quite understand. His hand began to glow with a soft light before he grasped her ankle. The light was warm, spreading across her skin. Her ankle started to hurt as his magic undid whatever damage she had done. She grimaced and put up with it until he was done.
“Are you really… like that, under there,” she asked him as he put the glove back on.
He was silent for a long moment before responding, “Yes.”
“Can’t you use your magic to fix that?” She asked.
“It doesn’t work that way,” he grumbled, “magic is not a solution to every situation. Whomever I was before this is long dead. I’ll not tarnish his memory by wearing his face.” His gaze turned up to the building. “How many inside?”
“Two,” she forced herself to respond, clenching her jaw at the thought. “There’s… one dead for sure. It… It ripped his throat out. But one of them, it was feeding on them. I interrupted it before it finished. I don’t know if she survived…”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said as he stalked into the street as guards finally started to show up. As well as people coming out of their houses to see what the commotion was, including her own family. Naturally the guards wanted questions, Vaneras even noticed a few Crusaders among them. She told them what had happened and they didn’t say much more to her afterwards, mostly just keeping onlookers at bay as the Crusaders took over the scene.
One of them approached her, Vaneras couldn’t see their face beyond their helmet.
“I know you’re probably shook up about this whole thing,” A female voice echoed a little inside her helmet. It surprised Vaneras a little. While not entirely unheard of, it was rare for a woman to be made a Crusader. Majority of the time they were drafted into the Battle Nun corps.
She reached up and pulled her helmet off, she looked a few years older than Vanera, a strong but pretty face with deep blue eyes. She had short dark hair with a single white streak. 
“For what it’s worth, it’s pretty impressive what you did here,” she said. “Killing a vamp is no easy task.”
“I, uh… guess I took it by surprise,” she said. Vaneras tried not to stare, maybe it was just the rush of emotions she was feeling right now but she suddenly felt so nervous around this other woman. “I just wish I could have been faster.”
The woman put her hand on Vaneras’ shoulder, “You did the best you could,” she said. “It’s tragic, yes, but you stopping this here now saved so many other people.”
“Yeah, that’s what he said,” Vernas said, tilting her head to the building behind her. 
The woman smirked lightly, “Really?” she asked. “He hasn’t really spoken to any of us since he rolled into town. I get the feeling he doesn’t trust us.”
Before either could say another word, the Reaper stalked out of the house.
“How was she?” Vaneras asked him.
He looked to her quizzically, as if confused by her question.
“The woman?” Vaneras asked, “Did she survive?”
“There are no survivors of a vampire attack,” the Reaper told her. “Surviving means carrying on the curse. In that instance it would be my duty to finish them off myself. But to answer your question, no. She succumbed to blood loss, this was definitely a feeding. It wasn’t intending to increase its numbers. It’s why it made sure to kill its other victim.
Vaneras wasn’t holding out much hope but she was saddened nevertheless. “I… I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“Don’t be,” he said before stepping back over to the remains the vampire left behind. “Come here, I’d like your perspective.”
Vaneras would really rather just go home and go to bed but she timidly stepped over. The only thing the vampire left behind was the clothing it was wearing and any objects it carried. The body and anything organic had turned to dust already, even the bones.
The Reaper examined the clothing left behind, “What can you tell me about this person?” He asked.
“What?” Vaneras asked, confused.
“You live here, familiar with local fashion, yes?” He asked.
“I mean… I guess so. I was married to a Noble for a year so you’d think I would be,” Vaneras admitted.
“So enlighten me.”
She sighed and knelt down. She first touched the shirt it was wearing. “Damn, the threadwork in this is… very fine.” She remembered how clothing like this felt back when she was married. “Whoever this was, they were pretty well off,” she explained.
“Something produced locally?” He asked.
“Possibly, but there are more than a few tailors in town that could have made it, especially in the higher end districts. But I don’t think it was a custom work. Most noble families would have their family crest stitched onto it somewhere, usually on the chest. But beyond that you’d have to ask around any of the tailors in town to see if any of them made it. Even then I feel like this is mass produced and could have been bought by anyone.”
The Reaper contemplated this for a moment before turning his attention to the trousers. They were of equally fine quality as the shirt. The Reaper dug through the pockets, looking for any identifying belongings. They were empty save for a single ring, the band was silver in color but had an emerald green gem embedded into it. An insignia was carved into the top of the gem, a pair of eyes separated by a single vertical line.
Vaneras reached out and snatched the ring from him, “This I do know,” she said. “My ex-husband wore one of these. Some kind of symbol for his boys club.”
The Reaper took the ring back, “Did he ever say what it was for?” he asked.
She shook her head, “No, some ‘men only’ bullshit. Never even told me what the name was. But something about that ring is off.”
“How so?” The Reaper asked. 
“That ring is made of steel,” Vaneras told him. “My ex-husband’s was silver. I mean if this guy was a vampire the silver would have burned him, right? So I’m not surprised they’d have a substitute.”
“But that would mean he’s been a part of the group long enough as a vampire to require the substitute be made,” The Reaper concluded. 
“What, like some kind of conspiracy?” Vaneras asked.
“Possibly,” The Reaper said, pocketing the ring. “Is there anyone in this city who would know where this came from?”
“There’s only one jeweler in town,” Vaneras told him, “In the high end district, but he’s out of town a lot, trading with other towns. But his wife runs the shop while he’s gone so she may be able to answer any questions for you if you catch him away.”
The Reaper pondered over the scene for a moment. “I appreciate your input here,” he told her.
“So why me?” Vaneras asked him. “I’m sure the guards or even the crusaders could have answered this for you.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “but between the two of us, I can’t rule out their own involvement. I need to be able to confer with someone outside their sphere of influence. I can’t trust any of them reporting my actions to anyone above them.”
“So is this you recruiting me or something?” She asked.
“No,” he said curtly. “You’ve done more than enough for me already.”
Was it weird she was disappointed in that? She shook the thought aside, “So what now?”
“You will go home, do your best to forget tonight. I would recommend dropping the heroics from now on, but I know that rarely actually works. I will say to stay out of my way from now on, do not involve yourself with these creatures again.”
And just when she thought she was starting to like him. She couldn't help but scowl in response. But she turned and stormed away from him, past the Crusaders and guards and across the road to her home, where her family waited.
By then she had calmed down, she knew he was intentionally trying to piss her off. Pulling some bullshit ‘tough guy’ act to turn her away. She was pissed that it worked. 
Her parents of course had questions, she answered them. Of course they were upset to hear what had happened to the couple. But they all said the same things to her. “You did the right thing.”
Why did that hurt so much? A pit grew in her stomach the more she thought of it. If she had done the right thing, why didn’t it feel like it? She started to hate that feeling but knew there was nothing to be done, nothing could be done. She did the right thing. RIght?


