Love Letters and Thirst Tonics (Moonvale Matches Book 1)

13. Redd

Gods, I was such an idiot.

I had clearly freaked Fiella out or made her uncomfortable enough that she couldn’t stand to be in my presence anymore.

We already struggled to get along–I was a fool to make it even worse.

It wasn’t my fault that my reflexes kicked in when the lovely vampire dove for my neck. I couldn’t help but stop her. The urge to yank her head back and sink my fangs into her delicate flesh had been almost overwhelming, especially with my predator instincts on overdrive. It had taken the willpower of all the Old Gods combined to keep my mouth shut and away from her sweetly scented flesh.

Now why she dove for me was a mystery. This woman continued to beguile me. I couldn’t even begin to understand her actions.

The confusion battled with the guilt I felt, both muddling my thoughts and making me feel… strange.

She fled faster than a water sprite escaping a fire, and then she didn’t come back, so I worked until my stomach started growling and then I made my leave. I wasn’t going to hang around forever–I knew when my presence wasn’t wanted anymore.

Now, I was sitting at the diner, picking at my plate of roasted wildbird and lemony potatoes, lost in my thoughts.

I wondered how everyone was doing back home in Sunhaven. They were surely doing better now than they were before I had left, as I had clearly brought the incessant bad luck here with me. Were my brothers managing the construction shop okay? Ollie was a hard worker, but he was very scatterbrained, and Wayde was the friendliest vamp there ever was but he got frustrated easily. They needed me around to level them out.

Was my Pa giving them a hard time? Was my Ma doing alright, was everyone being nice enough to her? I’d have to get a letter to them. They had sent me a few brief missives that I had received from Mayor Tommins, but they were mainly inquiring on when I’d be back without giving me much information.

I was brought back to reality when a hand landed on my shoulder.

I shrugged it off before turning around, fighting off the shiver of discomfort that threatened to roll down my spine. I didn’t appreciate being touched without warning.

Mayor Tommins was standing behind me with a plate in his hand. “Care if I sit?” he asked, already pulling out the chair next to me. I wasn’t sure why he even bothered asking. I held in a sigh.

“Sure, boss, go ahead.”

Mayor Tommins plopped down with a huff, taking a bite of roasted potatoes and a sip of dark ale before speaking again. There were plenty of open tables in the diner and I tried not to be irritated that he had chosen to sit by me. Some folk were just friendlier than others. Some folk also weren’t great at reading a room.

“So, Mr. Ivyhurst, I’m sorry to say it, but I’ve got another job for you.” He didn’t seem very sorry, heartily scooping forkfuls of meat into his sharp-toothed mouth.

I once again held back a sigh. Of course he had another job for me. The tasks this town needed help with were never-ending. At least I’ve got some job security here. At this rate, I was going to have a mountain of silvers in my coffers by the end of the year.

Guilt tickled at the back of my mind. If the bad luck had somehow followed me here from Sunhaven, then I was the reason so many things around town needed fixing.

Maybe I should just camp out alone in the Barren Lands until this string of disasters ends. At least nobody else will be impacted if I’m on my own.

I tucked the idea away to consider more thoroughly later. I didn’t have any proof yet that the tragedies were my fault. The problem was–I had no idea how I could possibly find proof. I hoped to the Old Gods that this giant mess would just clear itself up sooner rather than later. Magic wasn’t endless, after all. And curses couldn’t last forever.

I snapped back to the conversation when Mayor Tommins rhythmically tapped his fingers on the table. “I haven’t finished up at Fiella’s yet–it’s taking longer than we expected,” I explained. “There was a lot of cleanup needed.”

“I’m sure Miss Elmwick can handle some of the cleanup on her own. She is a very capable woman,” he stated dismissively.

“Sure, sure.” I didn’t know what else to say to that. I knew very well how capable she was–she had been an absolute workhorse in the hours I had spent in her company.

“I need you to head over to the Widowlyns’ farm on the north edge of the Greenwood Forest tomorrow. They’ve got a broken gate, and we can’t afford to have livestock running through the town. You can get back to Fiella’s disaster later–this one is urgent and should be fairly quick.”

Every task seemed quite urgent, but I kept that unhelpful thought to myself. Tommins explained the details, finished up his meal, and then headed on his way. The gryphon sure could eat fast. It was impressive, honestly. I stared down at my half-eaten meal. The lemony roasted potatoes didn’t seem quite as enticing anymore, though the crispy things had been delicious. I sighed and took another bite.

After I finished my meal, I ordered another ale along with a slice of berry pie. When the server slid the plate to me across the counter, I noticed a white corner sticking out from underneath.

What I had first thought was a napkin was really paper. Was that supposed to be there?

I tried to flag down the server, but he was already helping other customers, and he just looked confused at what I was trying to ask.

Fuck it. I picked up the letter and immediately recognized the handwriting, though it was much neater this time, and I could read it without squinting.

I couldn’t prevent the smile that tugged on the corner of my mouth. Maybe today was looking up after all.

At the back of my mind, I worried that this was still some sort of prank, but I brushed that aside for now.

The letter-writer had responded.

I didn’t put much thought into how it had ended up tucked under my pie plate at the diner.

Another Stranger?

I was pleased to receive your letter. I was fairly certain I wouldn’t receive anything in response to that mess I sent before. Sorry about that, by the way. Not my finest work.

Am I to assume I am the first stranger, if you are “another”? Fine, at least I am the first. If you prefer to keep your identity a secret, I’ll respect it. I like your style, I have always loved a good mystery. I shall call you Stranger 2.

Questions, you say? Ask away. Your response found me quickly, so I’m hoping this one finds you quickly as well.

I have questions of my own. Are you a witch of some sort? Is that how your letters have made their way to me? And why me? Have we met before? I’d assume so, if you’re going to go through the effort of casting a spell, or paying someone else silvers to do it…

I must thank you for your words, and for your response. You have no idea how much I needed a kind soul, an encouraging word. So, this is me saying thank you.

Now, if this message somehow finds you again, though I have an inkling the fates will make it so, I hope your days are peaceful and your fortune is better than mine is right now.

Be well,

Stranger 1

P.S. It was certainly not ale. Yuck. That’s disgusting. I prefer ANY other beverage.

“Whatcha got there? Message from family?” the server asked.

I startled at the sound of his voice, quickly folding the letter back up and shoving it in my trouser pocket. I didn’t know his name, and I didn’t particularly care to learn it. He was polite enough, and that was plenty.

“Sure, something like that,” I responded. “Anyways, thanks, for–” I gestured at the now-empty bowl in front of me. “–all this”. I stood and placed a coin on the table.

I glanced around the diner to see if anyone had paid particular attention to me reading the letter, or for someone to be stifling laughter at having fooled me. I didn’t see anything except for folk eating normally.

Shaking my head in exasperation, I hurried out of the diner.

From that point forward, the letter exchange continued.

Stranger One,

Your letter has found me once again. I must say, this correspondence has been surprising. Not unpleasant but… unexpected.

But not bad.

No, I am not a witch. I am not a magic user of any kind. Am I to assume you are a witch, then? It is rather strange how our letters have managed to be delivered back and forth. That will remain a mystery, unless you have some sort of explanation. I’m afraid I have no answers.

I am glad that my words were able to bring you a small amount of comfort. I’ve been bringing the folk around me nothing but pain and suffering lately, so it is a nice change of pace.

All the best,

Two

P.S. It is blasphemy that you think ale is disgusting. I can only assume that you have an underdeveloped palate.

Two,

If you are not the magical force behind our correspondence, It seems that the fates have pulled us together.

I’m certainly not complaining. I don’t have the silvers to spare to send letters, so this is lovely. (I truly hope you are not spending silvers on this, or I will feel a bit stupid).

No offense, but I think you are a liar. There is no way that you bring nothing but pain and suffering to those around you. You offered kindness to a stranger you had never met, so that doesn’t add up.

Do you have a family, Two? I do, sure, but they aren’t around much anymore. If ever. I suppose my neighbors have become my makeshift family. I would love to hear about yours. Hopefully it is full, and loving, and wonderful.

Sending good vibes,

One

P.S. My palate is perfectly refined, thank you. Just because I prefer the taste of herbs and sugar over the taste of piss doesn’t make me any less of a folk.

Sometimes, days passed, but the letters always turned up eventually.

Dear One,

You think I am a liar? After only two letters? Wow, you are quick to judge.

I won’t hold it against you.

I have not spent any silvers, don’t worry about that. I would, though, if I had to. It seems an outside force is keeping our correspondence going. Perhaps it is the fates. I am not going to complain about that either.

I do have a family. I miss them very much. I am not with them now, due to unfortunate circumstances, but I hope to return to them some time in the near future. I have recently moved away from them.

They are loud, and rambunctious, and annoying, but they are the best folk I know.

Where has your family gone, if that is alright to ask? Family doesn’t have to be blood related, I’m sure your neighbors are a full, loving, wonderful family.

I think I received some of those good vibes you sent.

So I’m sending them back.

Two

P.S. If you think that ale tastes like piss, then my opinion stands that your palate has a lot of work to do. It’s an acquired taste. Sugar water is for littles.

Two,

I’d say I’m a pretty good judge of character. If folk show you who you are, I think you should keep your eyes open and believe them.

To me, you seem like a good folk. So I am deciding that you are a good folk. And if your family is loud, rambunctious, AND annoying, they sound like they would be some of the best as well. I am glad that you have them.

I will admit, I’ve started to look forward to your letters. I find myself looking for them everywhere, searching for glimpses of paper wherever I go.

They aren’t always in the mailbox, isn’t that strange? The fates are mysterious, I guess.

Thank you,

One

P.S. I’ve upgraded to nicer paper, can you tell? I hope you appreciate it. I figured that if we are going to continue this, I might as well use some actual parchment instead of the crinkled stuff I was finding around my cottage.

Dear One,

I’ve caught myself looking forward to your letters as well. You are not alone in that.

When days are hard and my body is aching from my work, I find my mind wandering to when your next letter will find me. It is a strange sort of comfort. A distraction.

I find them in the mailboxes sometimes, but I find them in mysterious places as well. They even end up inside my cottage, isn’t that alarming strange?

How have your days been faring, One? You were in a bad situation when you wrote your first letter. Have things gotten any better? I hope they have.

Yours,

Two

P.S. The new parchment is nice. But I remember you mentioning that you didn’t have many silvers, so you should stop buying it. Don’t waste silvers just to send me a letter, the old crinkly stuff is perfectly legible.