He was known as a fop. He was also called a dandy. Whatever name they gave Teris Lamarc, he was a man who loved to party.

And why not?

Teris looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting one hair to his already perfectly combed do, touching up every strand so he was a dazzling figure of high society.

Yes, why not? He contemplated it to himself as he prepared to go to yet another party. Emanda Ilkins would be there, and so would the rest of the young aristocratic crowd. Teris was born to privilege. He would inherit the land his father owned—sole heir since he only had sisters and no brothers. His sisters would get a handsome dowry and marry well. And since he never abused that privilege he was born to, treating his serfs and slaves well, Teris did not see anything wrong with splurging the excess. It promoted the Brein Amon economy after all.

“Teris! Hurry already!” His friend, Dendi Welkens of the upper crust family Welkens, was tapping his watch and hanging on the doorknob. He was also standing in the open doorway.

Hunching over and peering out, Teris smirked, fixing his tie. “One more second. We can’t go to the party looking like beggars, now can we?”

Dendi rolled his eyes. He was a lazy dresser and considered Teris’s preening a waste of time—especially since they intended to get drunk and loosen their ties anyway.

“The wine will be all gone by the time we get there,” Dendi said slumping against the door as if he were already drunk.

Teris still took his time. He knew there would be plenty to drink at the party besides wine, as all parties among the high bloods go. Of course in his town, that of Kolden in the north, they drank for many reasons and always had liquor on hand. Some said it was because of the rough winter weather that they drank so much, but Teris suspected it was simply because they liked to drink and they had more excuses than most others places.

A honk echoed on the street. Looking up, Teris smiled again, brushing his hair back one last time with the palm of his hand.

“Hear that? That’s Frad. He’s going to be there before we do!” Dendi hopped up, ready to run out the door and go by himself. Generally speaking, no one did that. He was only bluffing. Even Dendi was not impatient enough to walk about the dark alone. Demons were always about when night set in.

Taking five long strides to the door, Teris clicked his heels and bowed. “I am your humble servant. Let’s go.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Dendi said.

They both walked down the steps of the front door, letting the butler shut and lock the gate behind them when they reached the road.

Stuffing their hands into their pockets, the two high blood dandies strolled up the hill two blocks to the lavish home of Jenerus Grae. Like all parties in Kolden, Jenerus hired a caterer with extra serving staff to supplement his already large number of Sky Children slaves. They could already see the glass lanterns hanging from the wrought iron hooks, the little fireflies flickering inside. His lawn beyond the rock wall that divided his property from the road was covered in creeping vine, parted only by a stone slab step path that meandered upwards to his front porch. There was a butler standing at the gate, greeting everyone. Another stood on the porch, directing them with a regal hand to take the stepping stone path around the house to the back garden. As they walked up and around the house, both Teris and Dendi lifted their heads, listening to the string orchestra playing in the gazebo near the pond. Putting on grins, they strolled in, greeting the ladies.

Dendi went for the wine first after making his verbal remarks to the host. Teris sought out the gin. Both men were soon drunk and laughing with the women on the back porch, telling horror stories to give them a thrill—bypassing the highbrows that were chatting about elegant matters of the political state. As it was, Dendi was an expert in retelling horror, like a fashionable fop should be.

“And so the man looked up, his eyes glowing blue. He dropped the shriveled corpse in his hands to the ground, grinning as he looked at the young woman with lust. Her lover was no more. Now this demon had his face. She had seen it all. He reached out to her.”
Dendi grabbed the nearest girl. She screamed.

Laughing, he continued. “And he said to her, ‘Sleep with me, or I will kill you.’”

Many of the women shuddered. Some were smiling, enjoying the thrill. It was taboo to talk about such physical trysts among their own, but in stories as a demonic threat everyone took their chance to display their hidden lusts.

Dendi leaned closer to one of the ladies. “What could she do? The Cordril would have sucked her dry and left her dead as he had done to her lover. The lady took him into her bed, and when he was done she was with child.”

Teris sighed as if bored. He glanced out into the garden, wondering if there were couples in the dark doing more than just kissing. Unfortunately, his lady of choice had gone off with Quinny Worth. He had decided that Emanda Ilkins was too flaky for him anyway. Of course he was quite ready to change his mind if she ever returned and flirted with him for the next hour. Besides, these ladies here were too much into Dendi’s story to be of use to him anyway. Glancing over at him, Teris was sure Dendi would make out with at least one, if not three, of these women before the end of the night.

“And on the day of the child’s birth, she saw that it had blue eyes—the same as the demon that impregnated her—and stabbed herself,” Dendi said.

He nodded quite seriously, into his own story and the dramatic tension it brought. The women were enraptured, leaning in, giving him opportunity to look down their dresses, though they did not know it or perhaps didn’t care in the party atmosphere.

“As for the child—no one knows what happened to it. Some say the Cordril came back and ate it. Others say it walked the day it was born and sucked the life out of every animal from Pringsley Village to Hinze Town.”

“What rot,” Teris said at last.

The ladies moaned, glaring up at him. Dendi also frowned.

“It is not rot,” Dendi said, sitting up. “I happen to know this is a true story. If you go west to Pringsley, they’ll tell you all about it.”

Shaking his head, Teris stood up, staggering a bit. He shook his head again. “Rumors, old boy. First off, you got your demons confused. Cordrils don’t leave corpses, Sky Children do—or did before they lost their abilities and were made slaves. Cordrils just suck a person dry until there is absolute nothing left of him, bones and all.”

“Same thing.” Dendi got up and then dropped in the love seat next to the girl he had been angling to get all night. She giggled, scooting over to make room.

“It is not the same.” Teris glanced back at the garden again. “Don’t confuse your demons.”

“Same difference,” Dendi said, leaning his head on her shoulder. He looked ready to take a nap.

Teris swayed over the porch, leaning on a railing. “Is not. Stop talking nonsense. Tell a scarier story. Or no, let me tell you about this demon I heard of in the south. It is called a spider parasite.”

Dendi yawned, cupping his hand over his mouth. “Boring. Teris, if you are going to try and scare us, tell us about the last Night Stalker sighting. I heard one was seen in Ladis City.”

Teris made a face. “No, demon worms were in Ladis. You mean Harmas.”

But one of the ladies squirmed, moving from her seat. “No. No Night Stalker stories, please. They really frighten me. Some have been spotted in Kolden once or twice, and my grandfather was killed by one.”

Both men straightened up. The other women sighed, losing the opportunity for a truly scary story.

Teris bowed. “My apologies.”

“I won’t mention it again,” Dendi added with a nod.

But they did not get into other horror stories. Dendi soon wandered off with the lady of his choice, and Teris found a bottle of schnapps. The music continued to play and the party raged on as the stars shone brighter overhead and the lower town went to sleep.

Teris staggered off to the far garden, following the small lanterns set out here and there for the lovers to find their way among the vines and bushes. He wandered further where gardens of several aristocrats joined in a more wild area of underbrush, a secluded place of rough pebble-stone paths and the uncovered brook. The trellised bridge wrapped in creeping vine was a place he liked to sit when he was just a bit too drunk, and he was feeling it that night. No one would mind if he vomited over the side into the brook. Better that than on the perfectly trimmed grass.

Squinting in the darkness, he stumbled on the path to the bridge, patting the carved stone monument along the way. He looked up once, scuffing his shoes on the wood planking, drawing in a deep breath. Placing his hands on his hips, trying to control the reflex, Teris stared across the lawn.

Moonlight shone down over to Mr. Stanish’s property. A little corner touched on Mr. Duvay’s land. Lilacs grew in the shadows along with roses and ferns—a perfect place to bring a lady in the daytime for a romantic jaunt. He drew in a breath and stared blearily there, wondering if Emanda Ilkins was free now to sneak off with him next.

Blinking in the moonlight and shadows he saw some motion. There in the thorny rose bushes about a few yards away he saw a head lifting up. The face was familiar.

Wobbling with a step forward, Teris blinked. The man did not see him, his back to the young fop. The man’s hand was lifted. Light glinted off of the thing he was holding, shining like silver or steel. Then immediately he brought it down. His hand lifted again, repeatedly plunging downward and upward again. Shining red now, the thing in the man’s hand dripped.

Tottering back, Teris grabbed the railing to the bridge. Retching, he doubled over, closing his eyes.

“Who’s there?” the man’s familiar voice whispered out into the darkness.

Dropping back, Teris wiped his mouth. He stumbled back down the bridge staring at the wide-eyed face of a man he knew but was straining for a name to match it.

Snapping into focus, Teris’s drunken memory awoke. He blinked. “Mr. Felap?”

A face emerged from the shadows. Mr. Felap it was. He stared at him, trying to walk calm like to the bridge. “Mr. Lamarc. You must be lost. The party is over there.”

Teris shook his head. “You killed…who is that man you killed?”

Mr. Felap’s face drew placid. He lifted his chin. “You are drunk boy. Seeing things.”

Backing up, feeling his head swim, Teris continued to retreat. “Oh, no I’m not. I may be drunk, but I know what I saw. You killed somebody.”

Sighing as if tired, Mr. Felap said in an infuriatingly calm voice, “Nonsense. I merely found a victim of Night Stalkers.”

“You had a weapon in your hand!” Teris shouted. He tripped over a stone, falling on his rear.

Keeping his distance, Mr. Felap shrugged. “You are drunk, boy. Go home. Sleep it off.”

Teris scrambled to his feet, running back down the path he had come from. He reeled into the open garden near the house collapsing right into the hollyhocks. Laughter echoed around him, but Teris dusted himself off, staggering up onto his feet again to the nearest butler. He grasped his coat, peering back into the darkness once more.

“You have got to help me. Get your master, Mr. Grae.” He looked back once more, but Mr. Felap had not followed.

The butler moved at once to obey.

The laughter around him continued. Teris noticed his friend Dendi get up from the hidden bench behind the hollyhocks with his lady. She looked puzzled, adjusting her mussed up hair. Her lipstick was smeared all over his face and neck—and hers.

Panting, Teris stumbled over to the drinks table, grabbing the nearest bottle of schnapps. He pried of the top, taking a swig and staring about as the servants rushed into the house suddenly looking alarmed. The butler came out again, this time with a policeman, but the policeman did not go to Teris. He walked to the center of the back garden and announced in a loud voice, “The party is over. Your host Mr. Grae, has been murdered.”

Teris stumbled against the table. “No.”

Dendi rushed over to him. “What did he say?”

“A Night Stalker is in the area,” the police continued. “So please leave together in an orderly manner.”

Shaking his head, Teris dropped his bottle. It thumped into the grass, dumping the rest of the drink out as a puddle at his feet. Staggering, he stepped into it, soaking his suede boot as he stumbled over to the police officer.

“A Night Stalker?” Teris asked, staring at him. “It can’t be. I saw it happen. It was Mr. Felap.”
The policeman’s eyes grew wide. “Mr. Felap? No, he was the one that reported it.”

Feeling like retching again, Teris shook his head. “No. No. No. I saw Mr. Felap kill someone with a weapon out near the bridge. I saw him! It was all bloody!”

“That was where Mr. Grae was found. Why were you near the bridge?” The policeman looked menacing, ready to take him in.

Moaning, Teris felt his insides twist in an ache. “I always go to the bridge when I have had too much to drink.”

The policeman relaxed, nodding. He, like many others, knew that brook as the Retching River. Most young fops went to vomit there after parties.

“I see. Very well, if you will come with me to the station, you can make your statement.” The policeman turned, heading back into the house.

Teris followed him, glancing only once at the other police who were clearing out the disturbed party guests. Dendi followed after him only a few steps before retreated to his lady, but she too had gone. At the mention of Night Stalkers, she had fled to her cluster of girls to escape together.

The police and Teris cut through the house and headed down the walk to the car on the street. They had to help him somewhat as his balance was off. Teris stumbled on the last step and had to be lifted to the car.
*

The police went over once more with Teris about what he saw at the bridge in the garden as soon as they reached the police station. The clerk took notes, seriously jotting down every detail in the witness report with his nib pen.

“And you say that you saw him holding a knife?” the clerk asked.

Teris shook his head. “I didn’t exactly see what he was holding—only that it was shiny and covered in red drippy…in blood.”

His head was starting to ache. Clenching it, Teris felt his body aching. His fingers were sore—throbbing. His heart seemed to struggle to beat.

“And you saw Mr. Grae lying there in the bushes?” the clerk asked, scribbling down the rest of what Teris had said.

Shaking his head again, Teris rubbed his stomach. “No. I didn’t even know it was Mr. Grae he had killed. I only saw Mr. Felap with that bloody thing in his hand.”

The clerk jotted that down and sighed. He looked up at Teris’ bloodshot eyes. “I am sorry, Mr. Lamarc, but this is not much to go on. Mr. Felap is Mr. Grae’s business partner. His witness was that he went to meet his partner by the bridge and found him dead with his throat ripped out. It is a Night Stalker sighting.”

All of this felt wrong. Inside the depths of his gut, Teris knew this had to be a lie. What was that bloody thing in Mr. Felap’s hands then? Why wasn’t Mr. Felap more upset at the death of his business partner?”
Teris blinked, lifting his chin. “Mr. Felap killed his partner. This was no Night Stalker.”

“It was,” a sergeant said, walking into the room and passing on another written report. “This just came in. Two more deaths happened tonight. Both victims drained of blood. Both aristocrats.”

Shaking, the feeling in his arms wrenching sore, Teris closed his eyes. “Impossible. I know what I saw.”

“You are drunk,” the sergeant said to him. “Maybe you saw Mr. Felap discovering the body and imagined the rest.”

Shaking his head vigorously, Teris shouted, “No! I know what I saw! I may be drunk, but I did not imagine it.”

“I think we should take you home,” the sergeant said, looking sadly sympathetic.

“If Mr. Felap murdered, he should be punished by the law!” Teris did not lower his voice. He clenched his fists and glared up at the policeman.

“You don’t have enough proof,” the clerk said, shaking his head and filing Teris’s statement with the others.

“I will prosecute if you do not!” Teris pounded his fist on the table.

Both policemen stared at him.

The sergeant sighed and led out his hand to keep doing what he had suggested, to take the poor drunken fop safely back to his home. “Come on, then. Do as you must. But I should warn you that false accusation is prosecutable by law—as is slander.”

Teris glared at him. “I know what I saw.”

*

They took him home. Teris’s parents met him at the front door, ushering him inside to sleep off the alcohol. His father was also drunk, having been at a different party that evening with his mother. However, his look was sober and grim, staring at his son.

They took him up to bed, letting the servants undress him and pull down his covers. The young aristocrat fell into a fitful sleep, feeling his insides twist up, retaining the horror of what he had seen that night, rehashing it in his dreams.

*

Teris was insistent that his father take him to the courthouse the following day to prepare their lawsuit against Mr. Felap. His father was very supportive, standing with their lawyer to back them up. Unfortunately the preparation took longer than Teris wanted to wait.

“There are Night Stalker sightings every night now,” the lawyer said, shaking his head at Teris. “Are you sure you saw what you think you saw?”

Nodding firmly, Teris said, “Of course I am sure. Don’t you know anything about Stalkers? They always come after a real murder. And I’m telling you, Mr. Felap is the murderer.”

The lawyer groaned, leaning back in his chair. “But why would Mr. Felap kill his friend and business partner? It does not make any sense.”

Even Teris was stumped by that. He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I have a suggestion,” his father said.
Both men looked over at him. Up until then, Mr. Lamarc Senior had just been silently supportive of his son. He said, “Mr. Grae would not be a target for Night Stalkers. He is a kind and giving man, though rich. Such a man is not food for Stalkers.”

The lawyer stared. “What do you mean? Night Stalkers will kill anyone with money. They prey on the aristocracy. This is a well-known fact.”

“But a lesser-known fact is that Night Stalkers only drink the blood of the avaricious.” His father had a wise, knowing look on his face. He was also looking a little paler than normal, perhaps disturbed from hearing about so many Night Stalker killings. Teris knew that his father would be a target if he were greedy—but he did not care about his money any more than his son did, the party his main focus. “Mr. Grae was not that kind of man.”

“But Mr. Felap is,” Teris murmured.

His father nodded, smiling. “Yes, and Mr. Grae has no heirs, so who would benefit the most from his death?”

“Mr. Felap,” Teris said, nodding. “Of course. He killed to get the entire company.”

His father gave him a confirming nod. “Yes. And I suggest we go on that. That is Mr. Felap’s motive.”

The lawyer was nodding also, seeing it now. “Very good. We may have a case after all.”

Teris’s nerves and nauseated aches calmed. Justice would be served. He looked up. His eyes met his father’s. Yes, justice would be served.

*

They lost the court battle.

Teris sat in his seat with the prosecuting lawyer, staring at the mahogany table after having gone through a painful and humiliating Brein Amon-style trial. It took only a day.

Mr. Felap had prepared his defense very well. He hired the best lawyer to defend him. He had many witnesses declare that he was busy in his study up until the moment he found Mr. Grae dead in the garden. The man even had the police report that Mr. Grae’s body was obviously attacked by a Stalker—his throat the only part damaged.

No weapon had been found. No bloodstains were found on his clothes that night. All they had was Teris’s witness against his. And Mr. Felap himself said that he saw Teris stumble into the garden where Mr. Grae was found, clearly plastered and vomiting over the bridge into the river. His witness was written off as a delusional vision of a drunk.

Teris shook, feeling cold. His hands were growing white and his heart ached.

The judge dismissed the case. Everyone rose from their seats around him. Teris could not manage it. He stared at the desk before him, thinking over and over again; he knew what he saw. It had not been a hallucination.

His father placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a commiserating glance. “I am sorry, son. I guess justice won’t prevail today. Maybe it will tomorrow.”

“How can you say that?” Teris looked up. His knuckles were white as he wrung them. “That man is getting away with murder, and my reputation is ruined.”

Sighing, his father just shrugged. “Maybe a Night Stalker will get him. They can smell avarice on a man and, with this case in the news they might seek him out to see if you are right.”

Teris stood up. “I hope so. Then the killings will stop.”

His father nodded, smiling. “Yes. Once the Stalkers find their prey, the killings will stop.”

“And justice will be served,” Teris said. He turned and glared at Mr. Felap who was talking to reporters at the door.

They stepped from their chairs, walking into the aisle. Looking over, they knew a gauntlet of accusations and gossiping newsmen would be ready to tear them apart. Just as much as Brein Amon people loved to drink, they loved publicly humiliating the wealthy more. He was now food for the beasts, at least until real justice would be served. For the first time Teris was grateful for the demons of the land. In a way, the natural magic of their world had a way of evening out the incongruities of life. He and his father walked over to meet the reporters.

Out of the doors, they stepped down to the road, already assaulted with smug men and their pens. Photographers and sketch artists popped in and around, flashing them with their cameras and scribbling out caricatures of their figures. Luckily for them, they had a car waiting on the curb.

“What were you drinking at the party when the Stalker attacked?” one reporter shouted.

Teris bushed past him, making a face. The man followed him, joined by three others.

“You were telling horror stories that night and let your over active imagination get away with you, didn’t you?” another said.

“How do you feel about all the other Night Stalker sightings, proving your case wrong?”

Teris clenched his teeth, feeling sick again. He stumbled, leaning on his father for support. Several took pictures of it. Many jotted down the act in their reports, already claiming that Teris had come drunk to the trial.

Over the annoying questions and the din of chatter that accompanied it with the voyeuristic crowd, Teris hear Mr. Felap’s report to one man. He was grinning smugly, glancing at the fop.

“Of course I will prosecute. That boy needs to learn that slander is inappropriate in Kolden. Me—kill my partner? As if I’d ever stoop to such a thing. Mr. Grae was like a brother to me.” His eyes were cold and vindictive.

Teris clenched his stomach, feeling his entire insides wrench. His father’s eyes grew wide. He held his son up, guiding him faster to the car.

They passed by several people, including Dendi who looked worried and somewhat disappointed in Teris.

Another on the street hissed aloud something more alarming that Mr. Felap’s threats. “Did you hear? The patriarch has sent off for military demon hunters to get rid of the two Night Stalkers that have been seen up the hill.”

Teris’s ears perked. His father stopped his progression to the car.

Several reporters turned also, hearing this with triumph.

Mr. Felap smiled, breathing more freely and walking down the steps also. “That is very good news.”

“He would think that,” Teris’s father muttered.

Hunching over, Teris groaned.

“He looks sick,” a reporter said, actually sounding humanly concerned for once.

Others looked also. Dendi peered over, almost ready to help Teris out, but not quite.

But heads turned again when a policeman ran in, grinning and leading a group of five strapping young soldiers. The men in blue walked with a confident gait, each wearing sunglasses and carrying packs on their backs. One of the soldiers was barely a man, fair haired, young and lanky. He carried a wide non-military sword with his other demon hunting paraphernalia. He also had a crossbow with wooden stakes.

“Make way for the military demon hunters!” the policeman shouted.

Already the crowds cheered. Dendi peered in, looking highly interested, forgetting his friend entirely. In fact, the entire crowd did make way, and they followed the men up to the patriarch of Kolden’s home where they would be given the details of their assignment in full. Only Teris and his father held back, standing on the courthouse steps with a few stragglers that worked there.

The judge walked down the steps with his aides. He peered over also, lifting his eyebrows in interest.

Teris collapsed.

“Son!” Mr. Lamarc crouched over, grasping to prop him up.

The judge and his aides rushed over.

“He looks pale,” an aide said, shaking her head.

Nodding the judge reached over to heft him up. “Better get him home. The shock was too much for him.”

Teris looked up at him, feeling weaker by the second. “Why…why did you rule against me?”

Sighing, the judge managed to help him onto his feet with his father. “I am sorry, but you just did not have enough evidence, and Mr. Felap is a powerful man. Even if I believed you, I cannot rule in your favor with what you had.”

“Now more people will die,” Teris said. “Even the Stalkers. Justice won’t be served at all now.”

Looking at Teris’s father, the judge drew in a breath and said, “It is very hard to kill a Night Stalker. And even if those military men are successful, more will rise up. They always do until the murderer is caught. Justice has a way of taking what it will.”

They helped Teris into his seat. He only shook his head and groaned, looking blearily at the judge. “No. Brein Amon is famous for injustice. Mr. Felap will get away with it. He will. And—”

Teris felt a sharp shooting pain go down his arms. Shaking, his lips went white, silencing him.

“Get him home and in bed soon,” the judge said to Mr. Lamarc.

Teris’s father nodded. He closed the open door and rushed to the other side, urging their chauffeur to hurry home.

*

All the servants scrambled under orders to get Teris’s room made for a sick bed. His sheets were turned down and his curtains pulled closed. Drinks of sodium bicarbonate were brought and they set them on trays next to his bed. Mr. Lamarc directed it all, sending his wife off to weep in a separate room. He oversaw everything, resting in a chair in the far shadowy corner of his son’s chambers.

Teris opened his eyes, feeling his heart make one last beat and then stop entirely. He gasped for air, staring at the chandelier above his bed. A shuddering breath followed. Trembling, his arms felt like long ropes were pulling them from his fingernails, straight to the walls. Waiting for death, Teris stared open-eyed up into the darkness.

But death did not come. In fact, the pain seemed to increase, feeling more like he was cramped and needed to stretch his hands and arms. Jumping out from his bed, Teris howled, pulling his head back and feeling the skin under his arms stretch. The skin between his fingers pulled tight, his fingertips extending from a charley horse to relieve the twisted up muscle pain he felt all over. Then in one relieving stretch, Teris staggered to the vanity. Parting hard, he stared at the combs and hairbrush set on the stand.
He looked up at his reflection in the mirror, trying to get a grasp on himself. What gazed back was not a face he recognized.

Silver white hair, eyes a silver gray, skin white as death, and fangs. Teris shuddered, pulling back. He saw his arms were longer. His fingers were long, extending at least a foot each and bending with bony joints with his thumb clawed like a bat’s wing. Skin, which had been nothing but aristocratic webbing in the mildest sense before, was now so grown and spread between every finger and even the side of his torso.
His shirt was off. Apparently the servants had partially undressed him. But why? Did they know this would happen to him? Did they know this creature, this demon is what he would become?

He was a Night Stalker. Teris recognized the form from stories he had heard since childhood. Up until that very second, he had thought they were beasts that came from the near by forests like so many other demons did.

“Son?”

Teris turned, gasping and grasping the edge of the vanity table.

His father emerged from the shadows. Or at least it had sounded somewhat like his father. The figure that came out of the shadows was as sickly looking as he was, with wings and all.

“Father?” Teris gasped. The figure did have a semblance of his own father. Watching the demon approach, he still carried himself like Mr. Lamarc Senior.

Nodding, the Night Stalker before him said, “It is me. As you now know that you too are a Stalker like I am.” His voice was tinny—sounding somewhat as if he was speaking through metal. “And I am sure this is a very unpleasant surprise for you.”

Teris blinked and then drew in a breath. “Un…no…I…Father, this is more than unpleasant. This is impossible! How can I be a demon?”

His father sighed, tilting his head.

“How can you be a demon?” Teris asked feeling his grief overwhelm him.

“I always was a demon, as you and your sisters are,” his father said.

Teris felt sick. He shook his head. “And mother?”

Smiling, his father walked closer. “She is a normal woman. She does not know—and neither do your sisters.” He paused. “In fact, I was hoping that you would remain dormant. If Mr. Felap had been punished for his crime, you would have never known that you were a Stalker and you would have had a normal life.”

“Dormant?” Teris turned, glancing back at the mirror. His reflection was horrifyingly striking. In vain way, he never saw a better-looking demon in his life. “Are you saying that I would have never become this if I had not seen that murder?”

His father shrugged. “Possibly. I did not witness a murder when I awoke from dormancy, but then my sense of indignity had stirred up the Stalker within when a dear friend of mine was murdered for money.”

Teris stared. His stomach growled, twisting in knots. His mouth started to salivate.

“You can smell it too.” His father nodded. “Avarice.”

Teris could smell it. His insides ached to devour it. And justice, yes, he wanted to punish Mr. Felap for killing Mr. Grae. Yet his old self echoed back to him all the horror stories he had heard about Night Stalkers. They were evil, or so the stories said. Was he now evil?

The fop swallowed. “Am I to become a killer then?”

Lifting his head back, his father had a knowing look on his face. “You are what I am, nature’s policemen. It will be justice you will deliver tonight.”

A tremor ran through him. Yes, justice would be delivered tonight. Teris walked to his window. His father smiled.

“Are you coming with me?” Teris looked back.

His father had walked to the door, his arms suddenly shrinking, as did the flaps of skin between his fingers and side. Turning, he said, “No. I must make an appearance at the party at the Halestrome’s. We must have an alibi if we are to maintain our lifestyle. I will be telling everyone that you are ill. In a way, it was good that you collapsed on the steps of the courthouse. However, you must play sick for two more days once you are done with Mr. Felap.”
He opened the door, walking out as a normal man and pulling on his house robe. Teris heard him give the servants orders not to disturb his son’s sleep while he is out.

Watching his father shut the door, Teris then slid open the curtains to his window. The moon was bright. He twisted the latch and opened the glass, breathing in the breeze that stirred the curtains with a gust. The air smelled strong of avarice and blood.

Hopping up onto the windowsill with a natural flap, Teris took one look and leapt out.

The cool air whipped around him, fluttering his silver hair back from his face. Teris mounted on the roof of a nearby house, floating and smelling the wind. The delicious smell was strong, drawing him down towards a road that was not near Mr. Felap’s home. Teris sniffed again, wondering if Mr. Felap was taking an errand somewhere. It seemed illogical and foolish for him to do so with Night Stalker’s about. As it was, he had already heard that there were two in town. If he were being stalked, he would have stayed indoors.

Flapping his large bat-like wings, Teris lighted onto a rooftop near the road where the smell was the strongest and looked down.

“I knew you would come,” a voice said to his right.

Jerking around, preparing for a fight with a solider, Teris saw an elderly looking Stalker lighting onto the roof next to him. His face was familiar, but he could not figure out how.

“I knew as soon as I saw you going white in court that you would be first out tonight,” the Stalker said.

Teris blinked. His eyes grew wide. “Judge Binard? You’re a Night Stalker?”

The elderly man smiled, nodding.

The indignity filled Teris with disgust. “Why didn’t you rule in my favor? What? Were you waiting to get him yourself?”

Shaking his head, the man sighed and settled with more relaxation on the ridgepole of the roof. “Of course not. I told you back then. You did not have enough evidence. However, tonight justice will be served.”

Teris stared at him silently. Drawing in a breath, smelling the air, he nodded. “Agreed.”

“Ah! A new one!” another Night Stalker flew down. “I smelled it and I knew the Judge here would be ready for the catch, but you—this is a new turn of events. Teris Lamarc, isn’t it?”

Teris looked up. He peered at the Stalker’s face and recognized the features. Placing a name with them was harder.

“It is,” Teris said feeling like grumbling despite the company. In a very deep and animal way, he wanted Mr. Felap’s blood for himself.

“Ah, well, this is my hunt,” the new Stalker said, ready to argue with Teris.

“I saw him first,” Teris replied getting up.

The other rose, flapping his wings.

The smell suddenly grew stronger. Blood and avarice. A song echoed on the air.

It is mine. All mine!
You can’t have it, love.
Give me more. Plenty more!
Just for me, my blood!

All three stalkers stared down into the road. Teris felt his heart jump as well as his stomach. It was strange to feel his heart beat when it had stopped. The feeling was suddenly unnatural.

“Too strong,” the judge murmured.

The other sucked in a breath, ready to dive down and attack the man below.

Teris looked, feeling the same drive, but his eyes told him clearly that it was not the one he was after below. It was young man strolling straight down the middle of the stone walled lane holding a bleeding thumb and singing the absurd song aloud. The smell of avarice was strong coming from him.

“That’s not Mr. Felap.” Teris flew upward off the rooftop.

“No, it is not,” the judge said, joining him.

“Who cares?” The other dived down to take out the young fool. “He’s mine!”

Watching the attack, Teris lighted onto a lower wall. The judge landed on the street lamp. Down below, the young man turned, pulling out a crossbow he had somehow hidden.

“Don’t make me kill you,” the young man said. He was already taking aim. “I just want to talk.”

The one Stalker halted in his dive, perching on the rock wall to the man’s right. “You lying, sneaky little demon. You aren’t what I’m after. Where did you hide him?”

Teris peered at the young man—no, soldier. He had seen him at the courthouse. Looking around, Teris sniffed the air. Other men were near by. The youth was not alone.

“I haven’t hid anyone,” the young soldier said. He lowered his crossbow. “I drew you here to make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” the judge asked, flapping his wings and then clamping his clawed thumbs on the edge of the lamp to steady himself.

The young soldier looked up at him and then scanned the air into the darkness. He peered directly at Teris. Teris blinked, staring at the blue eyes that looked at him. Indeed, the other Stalker was right. This soldier was a demon—possibly a Cordril. His skin was too light to be a demonic Sky Child.

The soldier stepped with a gait that looked casual, but Teris could now see the Cordril deliberated his actions carefully. He really could be lying, ready to kill them all, or he could be telling the truth. The young man said, “If you do not kill anyone else tonight, I’ll bring to you the murderer and you can take care of him. Then I will leave you alone.”

“How is that a deal?” the judge asked. “So far it sounds like a trap for us. Where is the benefit for you?”

“It is a trap,” the other Stalker said.

Teris heard the soldier groan. The man walked across the cobblestone and put down his weapon.

“Look,” the soldier said, “It is Brein Amon law that murderers are executed for their crimes. I could kill you, but what good would that do us? I know more Night Stalkers will come and the killings of innocent people will continue. Or, I could end it right here and let you bring justice to the murderer. I prefer the latter option myself.”

“Likewise,” Teris murmured.

The judge glanced over at him and nodded. “We will know if you have brought the murderer or not.”

The soldier bowed, looking pleased

But the other Stalker flew up, shaking his head. “The Cordril lies. He loves carnage and will kill us all. I will find the killer myself—but first I will rid the world of you.”

“He is a Cordril.” Teris blinked and stared at the young soldier again.

Swooping as fast as the gusty wind in August, the Night Stalker dived into the walled road. Teris crouched over on his perch and watched the youth tumble down, ducking below the Stalker with agility uncommon in most humans. The demon youth skirted back towards his crossbow, grabbing it and taking aim. Clicking, the weapon released the wooden stake. It flew, striking into the Stalker’s wing near his elbow. Another stake shot out and pierced his heart.

Teris drew in a breath, watching the Night Stalker fall, screeching and clawing the air. Bloodlessly, it gasped and tumbled to the ground, flopping dead on the stone.

Standing up, Teris watched the demon soldier walk over to the body, still holding the weapon in his hands. The blue-eyed youth shook his head slowly, watching the Night Stalker twitch with a gaze skyward in terror. “I told you not to try it.”

The judge flapped off his perch back into the darkness, making distance between him and this demon-hunting demon.

“I won’t harm you if you make this deal with me,” the young blue-eyed demon said below looking up from the body of their fellow Night Stalker. “Don’t make me have to kill you.”

Flying over to Teris, the judge landed on the wall next to him. “What do you think? He’ll hunt us if we don’t.”

Teris peered at their dead comrade and thought hard about their options. The smell of avarice was still in the air. He drew in a breath and nodded. “I think it is best if we let him bring the murderer to us. If it is not Mr. Felap, we leave this street and find Mr. Felap ourselves. We have no need to hunt for anyone else, and I don’t think that creature knows who we are in day life, right?”

The judge grunted, thinking hard. “But if he really is a Cordril demon, then we are in grave danger. He might be able to hunt us down anyway. Their kind has been hunters for hundreds of years. Besides, I heard their troop also has a magister traveling with them. Who knows what magic they might use to seek us out.”

“Or draw us out,” Teris murmured. He flapped down and landed on the opposite wall, staring the soldier in the face. “You bring the killer here, and we will mete out justice. If you double cross us, you will not be forgiven.”

The Cordril lowered his head in a bow, yet not removing his eyes from Teris’s face. “I will have him here within the hour.”

Both Teris and the judge waited, flying off to a high rooftop to watch the commotion below. The other soldiers that had come with him to Kolden emerged from the bushes. The lieutenant who was at the head of their team walked straight for the demon soldier to talk to him. Teris watched with curiosity, noticing how the others skirted about this young soldier, some even taking orders from him. Three of the group ran up hill at once, heading straight for Mr. Felap’s home.

Teris smiled, sitting back and leaning on the chimney pipe. “So. He wasn’t lying.”

*

Mr. Felap did not like being disturbed so late at night, but when he heard the news from three of the hired soldiers that the Night Stalkers were taken care of, he rushed down the see the corpses.

“Where are the bodies?” Mr. Felap said, jogging in his slippers down to where the other two hired demon hunters stood waiting. He looked down at the one Night Stalker body. It was now wrapped in a net for quick disposal. The stake was jammed deep into its heart with about two others hammered in afterwards.

“You do realize that if the murderer is not caught,” the lieutenant of the group said approaching him, “more Night Stalkers will come?”

“And you’ll be here,” Mr. Felap replied with a nod. “You have done your nation quite a service.”

The youngest soldier walked over to him. He had been silent, standing with his head ducked until the men had returned. Mr. Felap pulled back when he saw his glowing blue eyes. “Yes. It may seem that way to you. But justice must be satisfied.”

Mr. Felap’s lips went white. He staggered back. “You’re a demon.”

“You should not worry about me,” the Cordril said, his eyes narrowing with a fixed glare. “I will not harm you.”

Two Night Stalkers flew down, landing on the road. The soldiers standing around the aristocrat stepped back. One even ran back into the bushes. The younger Night Stalker reached out with its bat like arm and grabbed the aristocrat with a claw hold, opening his mouth.

“I saw you kill him,” the Stalker said, his silver eyes narrowing. “I was not drunk.”

Recognition flashed on Mr. Felap’s face, staring at Teris in horror. But it was too late for him—even to scream. The Night Stalker clamped on his neck, drinking away the avaricious blood that flowed in every vein and capillary of that man.

The judge stood back and watched, keeping an eye on the Cordril. Strangely, the young soldier stood near the far wall, making faces and even closing his eyes. The others retreated further away. Only one remained, and he stood by the demon boy much like a guardian or friend would. When Teris was done, he dropped the drained corpse on the cobblestone. The two that had remained on the street jumped, both swallowing as if ready to protect themselves from an attack despite the deal they had made.

Wiping his mouth, Teris looked over at the Cordril standing on the road. The judge had flown up again, calling to Teris to come home.

Teris took a step and bowed to the Cordril. “Justice has been served. Thank you.”

He flapped, launching upward into the darkness. The soldiers’ eyes lifted after him.

*

“Teris, you have a visitor.” His father stuck his head into the room smiling.

The sun had risen and Teris had just barely finished his morning breakfast—mostly to wash down the nasty medicine he was forced to take despite the fact that he wasn’t really ill. He had been lying there just listening to the beating of his own heart. It was like music.

“Hello, sick boy.” Dendi peeked his head in before walking entirely into the room. “How are you feeling?”

Teris had to lie. “Wretched.”

He groaned it out, but really he was feeling wonderful—alive again.

Walking over, Dendi dragged up a chair and sat next to his bed. “I have good news for you. It turns out you were right. Mr. Felap was the murderer. The Night Stalkers got him last night, and the demon hunters discovered burned remnants of a blood stained shirt in his fireplace. It appears he bribed his servants to testify on his behalf. They also found the weapon.”

Teris really did blink in surprise this time. “What was it? What did he use to kill Mr. Grae?”

Dendi got a sinister look on his face, the one he used when he was telling horror stories. “It was a serving spade from his silver kit. They found it stashed in a closet. Blood was still on it even after all this time.”

Really feeling ill now, Teris covered his mouth.

“I also have news on that Stalker they killed,” Dendi said, rocking back in his seat casual-like. “He was identified as Quinny Worth. You know, the guy that left the party with Emanda Ilkins? They snuck off that night, you know. And I talked with Emanda, and she says that Quinny ditched her the same night you discovered Mr. Felap killing Mr. Grae. Apparently he was the one that had been hunting uptown all that time.”

Teris blinked. He paused before asking, “What about the other Night Stalkers that were reported?”

Dendi shrugged. “I guess the report was wrong. Those soldiers said there was only the one. But, oh! Did you hear? One of those soldiers was a Cordril hunter! And someone asked where he came from, and do you know what he said? He said he was from Harsall. That’s just a little bit east of the where Cordril in the story I told you and the girls was from. I bet he’s the one from the story.”

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Teris muttered, closing his eyes though he would not be that surprised if it were true.

“It is not nonsense,” Dendi snapped. “That story was true. I told you so. Scary thought, really. Demons are nearly everywhere it seems like.”

Teris smiled, leaning back into his pillow. “Of course it is nonsense. You only talk nonsense, Dendi.”

His friend stood up, sighing as he gaze on his sleeping pal. “Get well you silly fop. We have some partying to do, and I can’t do it alone.”

Teris smirked, listening to his friend’s footfalls as he walked to the door.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 13.11.2009

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