The Vampire & Her Witch

A strange wind swept through Hanrahan Town. It wasn’t the bitter chill of Hauke’s sorcery, but rather the accumulation of thousands of quiet whispers, pained groans, desperate pleas, and heartfelt prayers.

The town had fallen to demons. It wasn’t a whispered rumor but a fact that was all but shouted from rooftops. Everyone heard it when the alarm bell at Hanrahan Keep rang out in a single, sonorous peal, just like the bell outside of town rang when the nightmare began. After that, the drums fell silent, and people anywhere near the fighting at the west gate plaza opened their shutters to peer into the night, praying for a miracle.

The miracle never came. Instead, the demon army quickly organized itself before marching through the streets of Hanrahan Town. But once the army began to move, the rumors started to flow...

”Saw ’em wit’ me’ own eyes, I did,” one man swore as he clutched at the tankard of ale he’d rushed to buy as soon as the demon army passed by his home. ”Taller an’ me house, wit’ eyes that burn like flames an’ giant tusks like scythes that can impale ten men! They’s real giants, they is, an’ they’re breakin’ up in groups ta’ guard tha gates.”

”Yer sayin’ we’re trapped here? Tha’ demons have tha’ gates?” a nearby man asked.

”I’m sayin’ those giants can scoop ye up an’ swallow ye’ whole,” the first man replied. ”If tha demons don’a just cleave ye in two wit’ those claws o’ theirs...”

Meanwhile, in a home that sat on the top floor of a building half way between the west gate plaza and Hanrahan keep, a sandy haired man pulled his wife close under the blankets of the bed they shared, though his shivers had nothing to do with the winter cold he’d just returned from.

”Ye were right, Gladdys,” he said as he shivered. ”It were demons on tha’ rooftop. I saw tha’ hoof prints in tha’ snow, clear as day. There must’a been three, maybe even four of ’em. One of ’em must’a stomped on tha cracked beam in tha’ pantry. Come mornin’, we hafta clear it all out or any bit of melt will leak right on’ta tha’ barley an’ flour. I’ll close up early tomorrow ta’ patch tha’ roof b’fore sunset,” he promised, as if patching a hole left in their roof by a demon was the most ordinary thing in the world.

”Danny,” the man’s wife said as she wrapped herself around her husband’s shivering body. He tried to be a good man and he talked like they’d just go on as usual, clearing out the pantry, patching up the roof, even opening up the shop, as if anyone would want to come buy tools the day after demons sacked their town.

”Why don’t we just pack it all up,” Gladdys suggested. ”We can pick out everything that’s important and food enough for a few days ride to Lothian City. My father always said you could come work for him any time, and my mother wants to be close to her grandchildren when we have them... don’t you think we should leave now, before it gets even worse?”

”I love ye, lass,” Danny said as he gave his wife the most reassuring squeeze he could manage. ”But we can’t go runnin’, not t’morrow. Ye have’na lived here long enough ta’ know how it all works out here. Tha folks livin’ by tha’ market plaza will buy up all tha’ horses an’ wagons by an hour past dawn,” he said confidently. ”At prices five times what they’re worth too,” he added with a trace of bitterness in his voice.

”I know I promised I’d care fer ye,” he said, rolling over in bed to gently cup her cheek and staring into her watery green eyes. ”An’ I will. I promise ye’ that. If I have ta’ fight a demon off wit’ a garden rake, I’ll do it ta’ keep ye safe. But ye know me pockets aren’t deep enough ta’ outbid a whitesmith or a vintner fer a horse an’ wagon. An’ wit’ tha’ early snow, we can’t spend two or three days on tha’ road ta’ see yer parents,” he said, stroking her hair and hoping she would understand.

”We got’a make it work here, loveling,” he said, doing his best to sound confident even though he had no idea how he was supposed to do that now that demons had taken their town. ”One way or tha’ other, we got’a make it work...”

Elsewhere, closer to the keep itself, in a sitting room of a weaver who had bemoaned his lack of invitation to the Baron’s banquet just hours ago, several women from the prosperous neighborhood shared even more shocking rumors over wine.

”I’m telling you, it was him,” a matronly woman approaching her fifth decade said confidently. ”Even in the demon light, you could make out his face clear as day. Lord Hugo was marching with the demons!”

”Not just marching,” another woman added as her hands clutched at the long strand of polished beads she wore around her neck, slowly pulling the necklace through her fingers one bead at a time, though she seemed unaware of the nervous habit. ”I saw him too, with another young lord beside him, but Lord Hugo was giving orders and the demons were listening.”

”I always thought he’d have been a better baron than Lord Bastian,” a third woman said. ”There’s not one arrogant bone in his body, and he asked sharp questions when he sat in judgment. I really hoped things would get better once he took the throne, but his father snatched it away from him as soon as Lord Bastian healed from his fall.”

”Do you think that’s why Lord Hugo went to the demons?” another woman asked. ”Because Baron Ian made Bastian his heir again? I know I’d be upset if my father had snatched away my dowry to help my sister get married before I did...”

”Watch your words!” the matronly woman snapped when she saw several of her friends beginning to nod along in agreement. ”No matter how much Lord Hugo was done wrong, there’s never an excuse to go running to the demons and bring an army to attack our homes,” she pronounced, as if that was the final word on the matter.

”But what if,” one of the younger ladies said hesitantly. ”What if Lord Hugo is going to take the throne with his demon army? It seems to me like even the Crimson Knight does his bidding, so if he wants the throne... can anyone stop him from taking it?”