Cursed

Chapter 9: A Rebel On The Job

The morning market was buzzing with life. Women were comparing products between the food stalls, men were animatedly chatting at the blacksmith's stall and children were playing hide and seek in the crowd. At the sides of the main street a group of children were feeding the wild dogs, not much further a few were playing pick-up board games on some old boxes.

The smell of freshly baked cornbread and seasoned chicken were welcome smells. It wouldn't take long; the closer I got to the center, the more the stench of raw fish and meat would overtake it.

A group of young men dressed in dark blue tunics crossed the main street and disappeared once again in the shadows of the backstreet alleys. My feet were already following them when my attention was pulled elsewhere.

"New bracelet designs!" A gray-haired merchant shouted too close to my ear. With my hand on my dagger, he received a dark look. His eyes quickly looked the other way, but his volume remained the same.

With quick steps I moved between the crowd. Being feared wasn't great, but it did have some advantages. A crowd opening up for you, wasn't so bad at a moment like this. It meant I didn't have to push my way between all these pressed bodies. Strangers didn't need to touch me.

When I finally arrived at the intersection that split the material market from the food market, I made my way to the less busy streets. At the corner was a couple interlinked with each other. Uncomfortably, I looked away and searched for the next best thing. A bit further was a group of drunk men chaotically chattering with each other in front of a tavern. With their glass still in their hand, they swayed from their left to their right foot.

I almost let them for what they were, but then something caught my attention.

"-arm was ripped off."

Already half on my way in the other direction, I turned around again. My focus was now on the two men in front of the tavern.

"I heard they couldn't even identify the body," the tallest grunted before he took another gulp of his almost empty glass.

"Could've been my boy!" The smallest hit the windowsill with his fist before he went on. "Are those vampires just that much more hungry or are they taking revenge for something?"

"It's almost as bad as The Shibaura," the tall one with the mustache spoke while he shook his head.

"The monsters from long ago? Those are a myth," the small, fat man responded with a scoff.

"Myths are based on reality," a passing woman joined the conversation. "Why else would there be stories of the royal family sacrificing themselves to save us?"

"Because they don't want us to see them for what they really are: monsters." He shook his head in disgust. "They act all civilized, but they're worse than the wild animals. Some cities or kingdoms might still do business with them, but they don't live here. They don't understand the death toll we pay to share our lands with bloodsucking murderers."

The woman shook her head. "They stopped the Shibaura, saved everyone. They paid a heavy cost as well."

The hairs on my arm rose at the words coming from the woman. Their story sounded so much like my own. Another similarity.

"What are you, a vampire lover?" The one with the mustache grumbled angry. He stepped forward with threatening fists.

"I'm a historian. So a lot more educated than you are I'm guessing."

The man launched forward and on impulse I ran forward and blocked his fist right on time. He pulled back and tried again. I easily blocked him again and tripped him on the ground. With a deadly look in his eyes he tried to stand up again.