Teesha. This woman's name was Teesha.
"I think not," Teesha answered calmly. "Why should I when I have a swordsman?"
"I don't see him here," Magiere replied, but banter grew difficult, and she feared losing control.
There was no rage or lust for revenge or madness in Teesha's eyes. Everything she did, everything she said, was calculated. Magiere hesitated, uncertain. This creature's powers were different from Rashed's or Ratboy's.
Chap growled low, and Magiere clung to rational thought. Teesha backed slowly toward the tree line. This vampire was afraid.
"You didn't think I'd be here, did you?" Magiere asked. "Or you would have come prepared." The truth became clear. This was all some plan to remove Leesil and Brenden. "I can kill you, and you can't stop me."
She stepped forward to swing, but the ground where Teesha stood was vacant. A rapidly fleeing voice echoed through the trees.
"You'll have to find me first."
Magiere pursued. Behind her, Chap whined and then began barking loudly. She stopped and turned. Chap remained standing tensely in the clearing, barking at her, and Magiere's thoughts cleared again.
This undead woman was trying to draw her away from the real reason she'd come out here.
Wiping savage thoughts from her mind, Magiere ran back to Chap. "Go, I'll follow."
Chap turned and sprinted off into the forest.
Still panting, Leesil clutched the broken branch and forced himself to wait, to play the lame bird luring the fox in. If he attacked out of desperation, he would die.
Ratboy's pleasure and confidence were now marred. The blades thrust through his sides couldn't have hurt him much, but he was now openly angry. And that might make him careless again. He looked less human now and more like a filthy, feral creature.
"This is so much fun," he spit out, but there was less laughter in his voice than before. "I might even bring you home-except I have no home. Do you remember Rashed? Tall, dark-haired, dead eyes, big sword? Yes, I bet he'd love a word with you. That warehouse meant a lot to him, you know, more than simply a business. It represented freedom and his ability to exist in your world. Can your small mind understand such ideas?"
Leesil's chest hurt so badly that every breath cost effort, but he regained his composure and tried to appear restful. Pulling himself up, he flopped back to lean against the tree.
"If you'd stop your senseless chatter, we could go and meet him now," Leesil said. "I doubt he'd take this long to kill me."
Any remaining glee on Ratboy's face now faded. "Do you wish death?"
"Anything is better than listening to you."
Leesil tensed, anticipating a rapid lunge. When it came in a blur of movement, he fell back into the past and became a product of his parents' teachings, someone able to set aside pain, someone able to strike a focal point with fluid second nature and the right amount of force. His hand thrust out of its own accord just before Ratboy's hands could reach him.
The sharp, jagged end of the branch burrowed into the center of Ratboy's chest before either of them could grasp what had happened. A small spray of warm, black-red blood spattered Leesil's jaw and ear as he tried to roll out of the way.
Ratboy screamed in shock and what sounded like fear. The undead stumbled back, wildly clawing at the branch in his chest.
"Leesil! Where are you?"
Those words had come from out of the forest, not from the beggar boy's gaping mouth.
Magiere was somewhere in the trees. Relief flooded Leesil's mouth like water, but he found shouting impossible.
"Here," he tried to call. "I'm here."
One of Ratboy's hands found its way around the branch, and he pulled it out. But he behaved nothing like he had when he'd pulled a crossbow quarrel from his body. He was choking, and blood poured, rather than leaked, from his body. He alternately gagged and whimpered, pressing both hands over the hole in his chest.
"I hit your heart, didn't I?" Leesil managed to whisper. "I didn't pierce it completely, but I hit it. What happens when you bleed out? Will you fall limp, too weak to move, and lie in fear till the sun rises?"
Ratboy gargled spitting sounds and stared at him in panic. Approaching footsteps could be heard, and Chap's growls. The undead made a limping run for the trees away from the approaching sounds.
Ratboy disappeared through one side of the clearing as Chap burst through from the other. Magiere was close behind the dog. Through a haze of exhaustion, Leesil felt a tongue licking his face and Magiere's hands on him, searching for injury.
"Are you cut?" she asked. Then she asked louder again when he didn't answer immediately, "Are you cut?"
"Go after him," he whispered. "Hurry."
"No, I'm getting you home."
"Brenden," he said. "We have to warn him."
She offered him neither comfort nor sympathy, but he heard the edge of hysterical sorrow in her voice. "Brenden's dead."
The underbrush grew thicker as Ratboy approached the small inlet river which hid the landlocked boat. Pain such as mortals feel did not plague him, but fear and exhaustion as he'd never known slowed his pace. All he could think of was Rashed and the boat and finding help. His lifeblood-taken from the tan-armed girl-covered every leaf and nettle he passed over. He had no idea how large the hole in his chest might be, but the entire front of his shirt was soaked.
How? How had the mortal half-elf injured him again?
Ratboy used the trees to support himself as he lurched forward, desperate to find his own kind, no longer caring about pride nor the shame of needing assistance.
Through the dense, deep green around him, the smell of life hit his nostrils. He tensed in confusion, and then an unfortunate deer hopped almost directly in front of him. Large, liquid eyes and a flash of white tail registered in his vision, and he rushed forward on instinct, screaming out in desperation as he grabbed the creature by the head and bit into its neck.
The deer kicked hard and dragged him a short way, but the terror of true death coming for him made his strength maniacal. He hung on with his arms and rolled his body, pulling the beast over to the ground. The animal weakened and began to grow limp in his arms. Feeding on animals was a pale shadow in comparison to people. An animal's life energy did not fill him with satisfaction or contentment, but it still offered life and healing. He released the animal as it died.
Panic subsided. The opening in his chest closed just enough for his own bleeding to stop. He left the deer where it lay, its eyes wide open, and headed for the boat again.
Now that true death was not imminent, his state of mind changed. He was uncomfortable and embarrassed by his previous fear-and his need for Rashed. Undeads lived in each other's company out of choice, not need.
The wild, clean life force of the deer flowed through him, unfettered by the complexity of relationships and emotional attachments. He felt the heart of the forest beat inside his ears, even though his own stopped beating many years ago. Wolves howled and an owl hooted.
Did he wish to hide inside the belly of a boat for weeks while Rashed forced them all to sail until settling in a new town-but just like this one? Would they build another warehouse and pretend to live as mortals?
Ratboy slowed his pace. He looked down at his chest and then ripped off what was left of his shirt. Torn flesh met his inspection. The blood of a mortal would finish healing him. Again, he wondered about the best course of action.
Teesha had wanted to flee.
Rashed wanted to stay and fight.
Both their motivations were becoming clear. Rashed wanted revenge and to make certain Teesha would be permanently safe from the hunter. Teesha just wanted to keep Rashed away from that hunter. But what about him? What about Ratboy? Did he matter to them at all? He had stayed with them all these years because he'd never really liked living alone, but standing there in the forest, looking at his wounded chest, he wondered if he hadn't been alone the whole time.