Chapter 2 Archer
Archer
Blessed Runestones, that was… a LOT. I breathe out, then inhale slowly. That woman’s overly sweet scent of sugar and peppermint invades my lungs. No one can be that nice and truly mean it, can they?
I was hoping that today’s faire would go well and I would get some sales momentum.
Having money isn’t my main goal in life, but one must have it, unfortunately.
Alas. But instead of forwarding my writing career, I made an arse of myself by falling into a woman who decided kissing me in front of all and sundry was the way to go.
I rub my hands over my face as I stride toward Rychell and Halvard’s home.
I’m sure it looked as though Colette and I had planned the happy accident as some sort of publicity event. My stomach turns.
What if the faire had gone as I hoped? I can imagine a decently sized line of readers at my table making considered conversation. A satisfying chat with Colette, Lysandra the librarian, and the other authors about our work and what drives us.
Well, perhaps next time.
I swing around the corner, narrowly avoiding a horse, a fairy, and a cart of cabbages.
My publisher will be as disappointed in my sales as I am, but now I can go home and try to forget today’s multiple embarrassments. I open the front door of my new friends’ house.
“I’m back. Anyone here?” I call out to Rychell and her orc mate, Halvard.
There’s no answer. I fall into a chair by the hearth. The single log still glows, but it gives off little heat. It’s rather chilly in here, but the cold doesn’t bother me. One of the few benefits of being a vampire.
I doze until someone comes in, the light behind them so bright that I can’t tell who it is.
“Hello?” I stand and blink.
It’s Colette. Her braid is a river of gold, a dimple shows as she smiles, and the curve of her waist seems to cup the sunlight behind her. Heat gathers in me, and a wave of longing sweeps through my body.
A slamming sound makes me jump.
I open my eyes to realize that was only a dream. Colette isn’t here. I must have fallen asleep. The slamming sound was the door actually opening. It’s Rychell and her young son, Nate, carrying loosely woven satchels filled with bread and wrapped packages. She’s human and her son is a pixie.
Rychell frowns as she sets her things on the table by the door to the kitchen. “Oh no, did we disturb a well-deserved nap, Archer?”
I straighten in the chair and give both of them a smile. They’re good folks, true in word and deed. “No, it’s your home. I’m fine.”
“We bought you a steak!” Nate waves a bundle wrapped in parchment.
My heart lifts at how considerate this family has been to me during this visit. “Thank you very much.”
“Ma told me you eat meat rare.” The lad’s eyes are wide as saucers.
I chuckle. “Aye.”
“But you don’t drink blood? I thought vampires always drank blood,” Nate says.
Few know about us vampires. Honestly, most of what I learned was from my mother’s dusty books. They were all I had of my vampire mother after she left. All I had to figure out who I was, since my father is a goblin and my siblings took after him in full.
I swallow a bitter taste on the back of my tongue, recalling the last time I saw my mother.
“I can’t stay here with him,” she said of my father.
“I don’t know what I was thinking. That it would get better?
” She scoffed and muttered something I can’t hear over the noise of my goblin brothers scuffling in the kitchen.
Mother lifted my chin so I would look into her cold, red eyes.
“I wish I could take you, but you’re not full-blooded and they will eat you alive.
I will, however, send your betrothed to visit once you are of age.
She is older than you, but not by much. Do as she says.
She is full-blooded and outranks you in every way. Try to live up to her standards.”
Each word she spoke to me that day burned into my mind like a brand, the meaning was seared into my very soul.
Not only was I misunderstood by my father and brothers, but I was lesser to my own mother.
And that was the first time I heard the word betrothed.
I looked it up right after my mother left, reading her books about our kind through the tears that blurred my vision.
I shake my head to clear it and am about to answer Nate’s question, but Rychell is mouthing I’m sorry for the questions and ushering the young pixie male into the kitchen.
Getting up, I trail them toward the back of the house.
“Nate, put the meat in the cooling box and clean your hands,” Rychell says as she washes her hands at the pump sink.
I dig into the largest of the market baskets and begin sorting the fresh items and dry goods.
“Thanks for your patience with him,” Rychell whispers while Nate is across the kitchen, kneeling at the cooling box.
“It’s no problem at all.”
I liked Rychell immediately because of the way she treats her adopted son. I wish my mother had been like her. She glances at me with a load of curiosity in her eyes. I wonder if she heard about this morning’s event. Thankfully, she doesn’t bring it up.
We load everything into place, finishing up as Halvard, her orc mate, comes in through the back door.
“Good afternoon, my love,” Halvard says to Rychell before turning toward me. “Hello, Archer.”
I reach out to shake his hand, but he wiggles his large green fingers.
“Let me scrub up,” Halvard says. “I’ve been tending to Tamar’s stall and feeding your stallion.” He washes his hands at the pump sink. “Betilda was here an hour ago,” he says to no one in particular.
I don’t know who that is.
“I ran into her at the market,” Rychell says, glancing at me again.
She definitely heard something.
Halvard dries his hands on a linen towel hanging from the cabinet’s handle. “Betilda’s the town gossip, and she had quite a story to tell about you, Archer.”
And here it is.
I wince. “I can guess that the tale involved the book faire, some cookies, and an encounter.”
Mischief gleams in Halvard’s eyes. “I wouldn’t call a kiss an encounter.”
“Well, it was decidedly different from your basic kiss,” I said.
Rychell’s shoulders fall and she stops wiping down the countertop. “I heard about it too. But I told Betilda that it isn’t good manners to gossip. I didn’t realize you had met Colette before today.”
I spread my hands wide. “I hadn’t. I tripped, and she thought I was leaning in to kiss her, so she went ahead and did so.”
Halvard laughs and Rychell slaps his arm lightly. “Archer isn’t laughing, dear.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Archer,” Halvard says, between chuckles. “But why are you so glum about a pretty gal giving you a kiss?”
“How do you know I’m glum about it?”
Rychell winces. “Your face. Right now.”
I blow air out of my nose. “It wasn’t exactly a comfortable situation. There was a crowd and it was awkward and I don’t even know the woman. She’s your kin by marriage, right, Halvard?”
“She is.”
“Is she always so…” I take a seat at the table as I search for the right word. Cheerful would be an understatement. I want to know if she’s legitimately that happy about everything. If she is, that’s great, but I seriously doubt it.
Halvard pours himself a cup of water and drinks it down before taking the chair next to me. “Yes, yes, she is.”
Rychell, Nate, and Halvard talk about the upcoming holiday while my mind sticks on Colette’s sunny behavior.
Is she truly that happy or is she always acting for the benefit of others?
Or avoiding some dark emotion that hides inside her?
I know better than to ask these types of questions out loud.
My brothers and father taught me long ago that it was better if vampires stayed quiet so as not to make others uncomfortable.
Most folks don’t think like me anyway, so troubling them would be a waste of time.
I realize Halvard, Rychell, and Nate are all working on fixing a meal, and I’m just sitting here like a lump on a log. I stand and push my chair under the table.
“How can I help with dinner?”
Halvard nods and pops his knuckles. “Maybe you can season the steak while I build up the outdoor fire.”
I nod. “Perfect.”
Rychell opens a pair of double cabinet doors to show a dizzying array of spice jars. Every color in the world is represented here, and the scents are powerful.
“Have a good time,” she says, leaving me to it.
Halvard cooks the steak over the outdoor fire while Rychell, Nate, and I munch on Leafshire Cheddar and the baguette Nate cut into four neat pieces.
The meal is wonderful—hot, salty, and filling.
The cold air is a perfect pairing to the fire, just as the wine Rychell serves is to the food.
After a story from Nate about his day at Ivydowns school and a song strummed on the lyre by Halvard, I’m off to sleep on the couch in the front room.
I keep the fire stoked until the sounds of the others die down and they’re asleep. I bank the fire to keep the coals hot for tomorrow, don my cloak and boots, then head out for my usual nightly stroll.
Leafshire Cove is quiet. Only a few folks dot the roads, their conversations too low for me to hear.
I do get a few stares, but that’s nothing new.
Vampires aren’t as common as most Veil creatures.
Most don’t know the details of how we live, and many people are wary of us.
I don’t really blame them. We can be dangerous.
I can be dangerous. I wish I could cut that part out of myself.
I don’t indulge in blood unless my body demands it, but I know from experience that I can’t ignore the Hunger when it comes.
The longer I do, the more animal I become.
The night sky is bright with stars and the curve of a half moon.
The town’s fountain gurgles, and I look up at the tower where a gargoyle keeps watch, his dark form only visible when I use my vampiric vision to see.
I think Rychell said his name is Rom. Once my vampiric vision is activated, as it is now, the world shifts from shades of gray to a riot of glowing colors.
Each living thing’s heat and energy show clearly.
Frostberry blooms give off a subtle blue color. I track the path of a rabbit hurrying through the underbrush by the Goat and Dragon tavern, its energy a bright pink. A blaze of orange flies overhead and I look up to see a thunder of dragonfoxes flying by.
The air is clean and sharp with the scent of coming frost. I love the night.
It’s quiet and unobtrusive. With its black cloak over the world, the night relaxes me.
I force my mind to ignore the worry about my publisher and whether or not they’ll offer for another book.
If I don’t start selling more—a great deal more—I’ll have to give up writing and work at the spice stand in Honey Sands.
Currently, I only help out occasionally to pay rent.
If I have to work at the stand full-time, I’m afraid my creativity will wither like an unwatered plant.
I swallow and take a deep breath, willing the worry away for just tonight.
The stress of the day fades farther away with each step until I’m ready to return to the house to sleep.
I wonder what it would have been like to stay at the Acorn Inn, the place Colette owns. I shudder. She’d constantly be trying to make me smile. I’m perfectly content with Halvard and Rychell’s couch.