The Vampire & Her Witch

”The d-demons t-took the s-s-servants?” Eleanor repeated, staring at Percivus in disbelief. She’d spent a number of months at the Villa with Jocelynn over the summer. It wasn’t a large manor, but it still possessed stout walls with a knight and dozens of soldiers to defend it. It should have been impossible for the small demon raids they’d seen so far to breach the defenses of the Villa.

”What, what about S-s-sir C-cathal?” Eleanor asked, remembering the kindly old knight who had insisted on guarding the Villa even after Lady Jocelynn returned to Lothian City. Of course, Cathal wasn’t aware that the ’Lady Ashlynn’ in the Villa was only a servant from Lothian Manor who resembled Eleanor’s cousin, but Eleanor had always expected that, even if he knew, Cathal would have treated Samira with the same respect that he paid to ’Lady Ashlynn.’

Cathal was a good, honorable man, one of the best among the knights who served Bors Lothian and one of the few who would stand up to Owain when the young lord let his temper and arrogance run wild. If the Villa had fallen...

”Now that is interesting,” Percivus said, leaning back in his chair to pick up a bowl of thick, hearty, cream stew and stirring it idly as he watched Eleanor’s expression shift from confusion to worry. ”You Blackwell women don’t seem to care for Lady Ashlynn very much, do you? I tell you that the Villa is fallen and your cousin is captured by demons, the very same cousin who should be giving birth to Lord Owain’s child in just a few week’s time... But the first name on your lips is Sir Cathal?”

”Jocelynn was the same you know,” Percivus added as he fished a morsel of roasted turkey out of the soup, poking at the stew until the thick broth yielded a pair of peas and a bit of carrot to go with the turkey. ”She didn’t ask about Lady Ashlynn either. Tell me, who is ’Samira’? And why do you care so much more about Sir Cathal than your own cousin?” Percivus asked, making a show of blowing on the spoonful of hot stew before savoring his first bite as he waited for Eleanor’s answer.

Suddenly, Eleanor froze in panic as she realized her mistake. She was too tired, too hungry, too weak... and she’d forgotten to pretend. Percivus didn’t know. Bors hadn’t told him, and the Church hadn’t told him either. For all that he was a bloodhound who had slipped his leash, he was still unaware of the deception taking place at the Summer Villa... He didn’t know that Owain had murdered Ashlynn the night of their wedding, or anything that had happened since.

But now, she realized, he had become even more dangerous. There had never been a conspiracy against Marquis Bors. Jocelynn had done her best to care for him, and Eleanor had accompanied her as her chaperone, but that was the extent of their involvement with Bors recently. The Summer Villa was a different matter entirely. The conspiracy there involved the fragile alliance between two powerful noble families, the death of a noblewoman, accusations of witchcraft and many, many more secrets.

The rabid bloodhound had finally caught the scent of something real.

”L-lady J-jocelynn,” Eleanor said, seizing on something else that Percivus had said, hoping he would give her a scrap of information, a fragment of hope she could cling to while she fought her dull, clouded mind to figure out how she should handle a rabid dog who had found something to sink his teeth into. ”H-how is my lady? H-has she re-recovered f-f-from her w-wound?”

”Oh? So you can manifest some concern for Jocelynn, but not for Lady Ashlynn?” Percivus said, setting his meal aside long enough to pick up a quill pen to take notes. ”That’s interesting. But you shouldn’t concern yourself with her,” he added as his pen scratched against the parchment. ”She’s been receiving at least one cup of hot porridge every morning, and if she works hard each day, she receives a loaf of bread, fresh from the ovens,” he said with a pointed look at the moldy crust of bread sitting beside Eleanor.

”Of course, I haven’t had any meat to offer her in several days,” he added as he returned to his own meal. ”She was so happy to trade away her jewels for the few scraps of tongue that I offered her, but meat has been in short supply since then,” he said as he picked up his spoon to take a bite of the rich, creamy stew, carefully chewing on the succulent piece of turkey as he watched Eleanor’s eyes tracking his every movement.

”T-tongue?” Eleanor said, blinking in confusion. A shortage of meat? What was he blathering on about? It couldn’t be about the shortage of beef after the demon raids on the Dunn’s ranches. Lothian City would barely notice the loss from a single barony among ten, and Lothian Manor certainly wouldn’t have felt the sting of any shortage. So why would he lack for meat, even if he’d decided to feed something as tough and unappetizing as tongue to Lady Jocelynn?

”It’s important to never be wasteful,” Percivus said. ”Once they’d confessed, Master Hess and Master Baden had no more need of their tongues, and it wouldn’t do to have them attempting to recant their confessions from the gallows once the crowd had gathered,” he explained, as though it were only common sense.

”Y-you f-fed L-lady Jocelynn th-the tongues of th-the men you k-k-killed?” Eleanor said in shock, staring wide-eyed at the monster, no, the demon wearing human skin in front of her. She knew he was cruel, but what he’d just admitted to was... unspeakable. Or it should have been. It should have been unthinkable! Yet he had actually done it.

”Jocelynn needs to learn the common sense that every farmer’s wife knows,” Percivus said simply. ”She needs to learn how to do honest work with her hands. She needs to learn how to make do without the luxuries of a noblewoman’s life. And she needs to learn to take what is given to her, to be grateful for it, and to do. As. She. Is. Told,” he said firmly, drawing out the final words and emphasizing each one of them.

”Just like you do,” he added as he leaned forward, staring intently at the shivering, gaunt, raven-haired woman who seemed to be on the edge of collapse as he finally found the handle he needed to bend her to his will.

”It would have been easier, days ago, if you’d just given me names,” he said. ”Now, I have many more questions for you. And if you do not answer them for me, then perhaps I’ll have to get Lady Jocelynn to ask you questions for me... I’m sure that I can arrange for another bucket of water to douse her with... After another night spent soaking wet in a cell with a window, I think she’ll be willing to beg you for answers. And if she isn’t, I can always replace her meals with yours...”

”So, let’s begin again,” Percivus said, his hazel eyes glittering in the dim light of the cell. ”Why was Sir Cathal’s name the first one that came to your lips? And why are you more worried about him than your cousin, Ashlynn?”