A Shifter's Tale

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~52~

I recognised the voice.

His grip on me loosened and I twisted to look up into his hooded face, his eyes gleaming red from beneath the shadow. I released the breath I had been holding and felt my panic lessen.

“Hello, Malachai,” I said, returning the greeting.

“Please forgive me for grabbing you like that; I could not risk you screaming,” he apologised grimacing sheepishly.

“Why are you in Veardrop?” I asked, ignoring the apology.

He chuckled shortly. “What can I say? I grew bored of the little cave in the mountainside. In any case, I had to be where you would visit on your return journey; I have been residing here for the last three days, waiting for your return.”

“How did you know we would stop by here?” I frowned, confused.

“I did not,” Malachai said with a half-smile. “I could only guess and hope.”

I remembered Hunter. “My friend is missing,” I told him quickly. “We got separated on the street; I don’t know where he is. He might not even know I’m not following, but he looked like he was searching for something.”

Malachai tilted his head to one side, listening. “I believe it may be him who is calling for you,” he said after a moment.

I listened, but everything was drowned out by the chatter of the citizens, the clashing of metal and scuffing footsteps on the paved ground. The vampyre turned and peeked down the alley, looking towards the main street. He turned to me and put a finger to his lips, indicating for me to stay silent. I nodded in agreement and shrank further into the house’s shadow while Malachai swept back up to the street. I had forgotten exactly how much his billowing cloak gave him the appearance of an overgrown bat.

The background noise stayed the same no matter how hard I listened until I heard what sounded like ‘oof!’ and a scuffle in the alley.

“Calm down, young lad, your girl is safe,” Malachai snapped after three minutes of restraining a struggling Hunter.

More scuffling followed, and then Hunter retorted back, “Where is she?!”

I peeked around the corner and said, “I’m here.”

Hunter stopped fighting Malachai’s restraints and the vampyre freed him. “Who is this?” he asked indignantly, jerking his chin behind him at the hooded figure without looking at him.

“This is Malachai,” I introduced feebly. “Malachai, this is Hunter.”

Hunter swept his eyes once over him briefly and muttered, “What is it with you and vampyres?”

Malachai’s eyes raked over Hunter’s skinny form, lingering on his sunken, shadowed eyes and the black cloth shirt that hung from his bony frame like a rag. His eyes gleamed with some unreadable thought. “You have seen better days.”

Hunter scowled at him.

“May I ask why you decided to intercept me?” I asked the vampyre to break the tension.

“I assumed you would need food and maybe some advice on the final length of this adventure,” he told me, leaning against the wall of the house with folded arms. “Seeing as I doubt you have had the opportunity to gather some coins on your travels, I would guess I could obtain some meat for you easier than you could.”

“By obtain, you mean steal,” I corrected lowly, not intending for him to hear, but one corner of his mouth tilted up in a grin. “And the advice you think we need?”