By Any Other Name Part 4
The campground was, of course, deserted. The campfires cold; the RVs locked up for the day, and the tents zippered shut. Abby saw no one and heard nothing amiss except for a dog's frenzied yapping somewhere amid the small group of vintage pop-up trailers.
The jester was not in evidence, but as she moved down the gravel path, she heard a snatch of music. A radio. Somewhere up ahead.
And then she heard a door slam shut, slightly echoing in the silence. And footsteps along the gravel path.
When she turned the corner, Seth was waiting behind a large RV, a messenger bag at his feet, his sword in his hand. He lowered it when he recognized Abby. "What are you doing here?"
He wasn't dressed like a pirate now, but like a visitor, although he wore a long sleeved shirt that almost covered a hint of a white bandage across his wrist.
In reply, Abby pulled the bloodwood phang from her pocket. "What happened last night?" she asked. "I found this where Colin was lying--and I think the same guy came back to my booth to buy more of them."
Seth held out his hand. "Give me that."
Abby shook her head. "No way. Tell me what's going on."
"I can't," Seth said, and smiled tightly. "Really, give me that. Please. I'll pay you for it--" And then he stopped, as if he'd just realized what she'd said. "Wait--you sell these things?"
"They're spindles." Abby said through her teeth. "To spin yarn."
"Not to Colin, they aren't," Seth said, frowning. "Okay, then. You're going to have to come with me. How did you know I was here?"
"I didn't," Abby said. "But I saw Carmen and Matt on stage, and I followed the jester here, but I haven't seen him."
"The jester." Seth picked up the messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder.
"He was a pirate in a frock coat yesterday, I think," Abby said. "But he changed the color of his hair."
Seth's frown deepened. "A Hunter," he said.
"That's what Colin called him," Abby told him, and he nodded.
"Follow me."
They walked back to the RenFaire, slipped through one of the back gates (they were supposed to be locked while the Faire was in session, but no one ever locked them) and waded through the crowds. Abby didn't see the jester anywhere, but if he was that changeable--and really, would she have recognized him without a hat? She'd only half-recognized his voice, after all.
They walked down one side of the Faire and up another. Seth didn't talk, other than to tell her to hurry up when she fell behind, but he was watching. Both in front of them and behind them. He was watching for pursuit.
Finally, they stopped at Madame Mim's Marvelous Mixes--the teahouse. It was packed--it was almost always packed. Madame Mim herself met them at the door.
"You took long enough," she said, and glanced at Abby. "Who's this?"
Seth stared at her for a moment. "Abby," he said. "She makes spindles. To spin yarn. Out of wood." He motioned to her. "Show her."
Abby took the bloodwood phang from her pocket again. Charcoal dribbled onto the floor.
Madame Mim pursed her lips. "I see. Do you have one that hasn't been used?"
"They've all been tested," Abby said hesitantly, and took the other two from her pockets.
"To spin yarn," Madame Mim clarified when Seth scowled.
"Of course," Abby said.
"To spin yarn," Madame Mim said again, and Seth shook his head and turned away. "Come with me, please."
"You can't--" Seth began, alarmed.
"I can," Madame Mim said crisply. "And I will. I'm hoping he'll just tell her himself."
"He's not--" Seth stared at Madame Mim for a moment, then sighed. "Okay. Fine. But I need to tell Matt and Carmen what Abby told me." He handed Madame Mim the messenger bag. "This is all I could find in the trailer."
"He's safe here," Madame Mim said. "I promise you that." She took Abby's arm. "Come with me. Upstairs." Expansively, she motioned to a young man standing behind a wooden countertop that housed a vast array of loose tea and tea in bags. "Victor, I'm going upstairs. Send up a pot of Earl Grey."
Victor nodded. And with that, Abby followed Madame Mim up the spiral staircase.
The teahouse was one of the larger buildings in the Faire, but it seemed much larger once Abby stepped on the landing above the main space downstairs. Upstairs was decorated with posters--advertising tea, of course--but someone had snuck in a few coffee posters as well. There was a hallway of sorts, and a few closed doors. One of them had a sign hanging on the doorknob--PRIVATE.
This was the door Madame Mim opened.
It was a bedroom, of course, and housed a bed, a dresser, and a few old wooden chairs. A bookcase against one wall was only half-filled with paperbacks; they looked to be romances; the kind of paperbacks that bred like rabbits when you weren't looking.
A dim lamp cast the only light in the room; the shutters were fastened and heavy curtains covered both windows.
The bed was occupied. Abby had suspected it would be.
Colin lay under a thin sheet and nothing more, his eyes closed, his skin pale. The sheet only reached up to his stomach; someone had folded it down to uncover the bandages, spotted here and there with blood.
Madame Mim gently lay the bloodwood phang on the table beside Colin's bed, and the messenger bag beside that. When she touched him, his eyes flew open; Abby gasped at the malevolence in his gaze before he realized who stood beside him. And then, his gaze slipped from Madame Mim to Abby, and his eyes widened.
"You," he whispered. "The girl from the parking lot."
Madame Mim showed him the bloodwood phang. "Her name is Abby. She makes these. They're spindles, used to spin yarn. Nothing more than that."
"If you ask me why I spin yarn when I can buy it, I'm leaving," Abby almost snarled. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"
Colin stared at her for a moment. "Someone purchased this from you?"
"He bought two of them yesterday," Abby said. "Today, I think the same man bought four of them, even though I told him they weren't for sale anymore."
"He only used the one on me," Colin said.
"Used it how?" Abby asked, but she had a good idea, considering one end was smashed. "And what did he do afterwards, burn it?"
"It caught fire because my blood burns in sunlight," Colin said simply.
"What?" she stared at him.
"Mim, please--" Colin raised his hand.
Frowning, Madame Mim pricked his finger with a needle and wiped the blood on a tissue. She then crossed to one of the shuttered windows; the one farthest away from Colin's bed, opened it, and placed the tissue on the windowsill.
Thankfully, the window faced the forest and not the front of the teahouse, because the tissue instantly burst into flames.
Abby's mouth dropped open. She stared at the tissue, then at Colin, struggling to think of something intelligent to say. "How--why--" Was this some sort of terrible practical--
"It's not a joke," Colin said. "The word you're searching for is vampire."
"What?" Abby asked. "Word? Myth, you mean?"
"Truth," Colin whispered. He closed his eyes. "If I placed my hand on that windowsill, it would burn as well."
The charred expanse of grass. The burned phang. The blood.
"There's a chair right behind you," Madame Mim said softly. "Why don't you sit down?"
Abby sank down on the chair, still staring at Colin. "You--you're a vampire."
"Yes, I am," Colin said. "You're in no danger, if you're worried about that--"
"A vampire," Abby said. "Like fangs and drinking blood and suchlike."
"Approximately, yes," Colin said. He was watching her now, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the lamp now that Madame Mim had closed the shutters again. "But some of the legends aren't true."
"Which ones?" Abby fought the almost irresistible urge to laugh. It wasn't funny, not at all. But--a vampire. For real.
And then she remembered how quickly he'd moved, even wounded. And how tightly he'd held her. And the laughter dried up in her throat.
"A vampire," she whispered, stunned.
"And there's a Hunter here at the Faire," Colin said. He sounded exhausted now. "And he's going to try to kill me again when he finds me here. And he might just succeed this time."
"He'll have to get through me first," Madame Mim said.
Colin smiled, but even Abby could tell he didn't think Madame Mim would be much help against a determined Hunter.
"Why are you here?" Abby asked. "Exposed like this? I mean, there's really nowhere for you to hide here."
"Sometimes hiding in plain sight is the best hiding place of all," Colin whispered.
"That doesn't seem to be working right now," Abby pointed out.
"It's been working for almost seven years," Colin said defensively. "We've been under the Hunters' radar until now." He started to try to push himself up, then thought better of it.
"Would he have killed you if he'd--staked you in the heart?" Abby asked.
"Yes," Colin said, and grimaced, as if the movement had caused him pain. "If he calls in reinforcements--"
"You shouldn't stay here, then," Abby said. "Go somewhere else."
Colin's eyes slipped shut again. "I don't have anywhere else to go."
"Sure you do," Abby said. "Away from here, for one--"
"And then when the Faire managements find out we skipped out on a gig, what then?" Carmen asked from the doorway. She held a tea tray in her hands. "We don't get hired anywhere else, no matter how good we are."
"But you're not--" Abby began.
"No," Carmen said. "We're not vampires. We're human. But the Hunters will kill us because of our relationship with Colin. Guilt by association."
"But Colin could--oh. The Hunter knows you're with him, doesn't he?"
"Yes," Carmen said. "He knows. If Colin leaves, we all leave. And then we lose our only source of income."
Matt walked into the room behind her, and Seth was behind him. They stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, until Abby said, "So. Okay. Vampires exist. What else?"
Madame Mim laughed. Abby had almost forgotten she was still in the room. "Maybe someday you'll learn 'what else', but right now, just concentrate on vampires," she said. "I'll leave you all to your planning. If you need me, I'll be downstairs."
"Planning," Abby said. "What planning?"
Almost as one, they all looked to Colin for an answer.
"You don't have to help," Colin said. "You can go back to your booth, although I'd request that you close up shop for now--we can compensate you for your set-up fee--"
Matt looked like he wanted to protest, but he bit his lip and turned away.
And Abby realized that on an income of just working at various RenFaires, they had to be barely scraping by. "I presume vampires aren't all rich, then? That's one of the untrue legends?"
Colin snorted laughter, although he looked like that had hurt. "No. Not rich. No family to fall back on, either. We're on our own."
"And yet Matt, Seth, and Carmen are on the Hunters' radar just because of you," Abby said.
Matt looked uncomfortable at her words; Carmen bit her lip. Seth glowered.
"That's true," Colin said.
"We're in this together," Carmen said, almost in warning.
Colin smiled, but the smile barely moved his lips. "That's true, too," he said.
"So what's the plan, then?" Abby asked.
"It's a bit risky," Carmen said.
"I'm planning to challenge the Hunter to a duel," Colin said. "To the death."
The jester was not in evidence, but as she moved down the gravel path, she heard a snatch of music. A radio. Somewhere up ahead.
And then she heard a door slam shut, slightly echoing in the silence. And footsteps along the gravel path.
When she turned the corner, Seth was waiting behind a large RV, a messenger bag at his feet, his sword in his hand. He lowered it when he recognized Abby. "What are you doing here?"
He wasn't dressed like a pirate now, but like a visitor, although he wore a long sleeved shirt that almost covered a hint of a white bandage across his wrist.
In reply, Abby pulled the bloodwood phang from her pocket. "What happened last night?" she asked. "I found this where Colin was lying--and I think the same guy came back to my booth to buy more of them."
Seth held out his hand. "Give me that."
Abby shook her head. "No way. Tell me what's going on."
"I can't," Seth said, and smiled tightly. "Really, give me that. Please. I'll pay you for it--" And then he stopped, as if he'd just realized what she'd said. "Wait--you sell these things?"
"They're spindles." Abby said through her teeth. "To spin yarn."
"Not to Colin, they aren't," Seth said, frowning. "Okay, then. You're going to have to come with me. How did you know I was here?"
"I didn't," Abby said. "But I saw Carmen and Matt on stage, and I followed the jester here, but I haven't seen him."
"The jester." Seth picked up the messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder.
"He was a pirate in a frock coat yesterday, I think," Abby said. "But he changed the color of his hair."
Seth's frown deepened. "A Hunter," he said.
"That's what Colin called him," Abby told him, and he nodded.
"Follow me."
They walked back to the RenFaire, slipped through one of the back gates (they were supposed to be locked while the Faire was in session, but no one ever locked them) and waded through the crowds. Abby didn't see the jester anywhere, but if he was that changeable--and really, would she have recognized him without a hat? She'd only half-recognized his voice, after all.
They walked down one side of the Faire and up another. Seth didn't talk, other than to tell her to hurry up when she fell behind, but he was watching. Both in front of them and behind them. He was watching for pursuit.
Finally, they stopped at Madame Mim's Marvelous Mixes--the teahouse. It was packed--it was almost always packed. Madame Mim herself met them at the door.
"You took long enough," she said, and glanced at Abby. "Who's this?"
Seth stared at her for a moment. "Abby," he said. "She makes spindles. To spin yarn. Out of wood." He motioned to her. "Show her."
Abby took the bloodwood phang from her pocket again. Charcoal dribbled onto the floor.
Madame Mim pursed her lips. "I see. Do you have one that hasn't been used?"
"They've all been tested," Abby said hesitantly, and took the other two from her pockets.
"To spin yarn," Madame Mim clarified when Seth scowled.
"Of course," Abby said.
"To spin yarn," Madame Mim said again, and Seth shook his head and turned away. "Come with me, please."
"You can't--" Seth began, alarmed.
"I can," Madame Mim said crisply. "And I will. I'm hoping he'll just tell her himself."
"He's not--" Seth stared at Madame Mim for a moment, then sighed. "Okay. Fine. But I need to tell Matt and Carmen what Abby told me." He handed Madame Mim the messenger bag. "This is all I could find in the trailer."
"He's safe here," Madame Mim said. "I promise you that." She took Abby's arm. "Come with me. Upstairs." Expansively, she motioned to a young man standing behind a wooden countertop that housed a vast array of loose tea and tea in bags. "Victor, I'm going upstairs. Send up a pot of Earl Grey."
Victor nodded. And with that, Abby followed Madame Mim up the spiral staircase.
The teahouse was one of the larger buildings in the Faire, but it seemed much larger once Abby stepped on the landing above the main space downstairs. Upstairs was decorated with posters--advertising tea, of course--but someone had snuck in a few coffee posters as well. There was a hallway of sorts, and a few closed doors. One of them had a sign hanging on the doorknob--PRIVATE.
This was the door Madame Mim opened.
It was a bedroom, of course, and housed a bed, a dresser, and a few old wooden chairs. A bookcase against one wall was only half-filled with paperbacks; they looked to be romances; the kind of paperbacks that bred like rabbits when you weren't looking.
A dim lamp cast the only light in the room; the shutters were fastened and heavy curtains covered both windows.
The bed was occupied. Abby had suspected it would be.
Colin lay under a thin sheet and nothing more, his eyes closed, his skin pale. The sheet only reached up to his stomach; someone had folded it down to uncover the bandages, spotted here and there with blood.
Madame Mim gently lay the bloodwood phang on the table beside Colin's bed, and the messenger bag beside that. When she touched him, his eyes flew open; Abby gasped at the malevolence in his gaze before he realized who stood beside him. And then, his gaze slipped from Madame Mim to Abby, and his eyes widened.
"You," he whispered. "The girl from the parking lot."
Madame Mim showed him the bloodwood phang. "Her name is Abby. She makes these. They're spindles, used to spin yarn. Nothing more than that."
"If you ask me why I spin yarn when I can buy it, I'm leaving," Abby almost snarled. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?"
Colin stared at her for a moment. "Someone purchased this from you?"
"He bought two of them yesterday," Abby said. "Today, I think the same man bought four of them, even though I told him they weren't for sale anymore."
"He only used the one on me," Colin said.
"Used it how?" Abby asked, but she had a good idea, considering one end was smashed. "And what did he do afterwards, burn it?"
"It caught fire because my blood burns in sunlight," Colin said simply.
"What?" she stared at him.
"Mim, please--" Colin raised his hand.
Frowning, Madame Mim pricked his finger with a needle and wiped the blood on a tissue. She then crossed to one of the shuttered windows; the one farthest away from Colin's bed, opened it, and placed the tissue on the windowsill.
Thankfully, the window faced the forest and not the front of the teahouse, because the tissue instantly burst into flames.
Abby's mouth dropped open. She stared at the tissue, then at Colin, struggling to think of something intelligent to say. "How--why--" Was this some sort of terrible practical--
"It's not a joke," Colin said. "The word you're searching for is vampire."
"What?" Abby asked. "Word? Myth, you mean?"
"Truth," Colin whispered. He closed his eyes. "If I placed my hand on that windowsill, it would burn as well."
The charred expanse of grass. The burned phang. The blood.
"There's a chair right behind you," Madame Mim said softly. "Why don't you sit down?"
Abby sank down on the chair, still staring at Colin. "You--you're a vampire."
"Yes, I am," Colin said. "You're in no danger, if you're worried about that--"
"A vampire," Abby said. "Like fangs and drinking blood and suchlike."
"Approximately, yes," Colin said. He was watching her now, his eyes glittering in the dim light of the lamp now that Madame Mim had closed the shutters again. "But some of the legends aren't true."
"Which ones?" Abby fought the almost irresistible urge to laugh. It wasn't funny, not at all. But--a vampire. For real.
And then she remembered how quickly he'd moved, even wounded. And how tightly he'd held her. And the laughter dried up in her throat.
"A vampire," she whispered, stunned.
"And there's a Hunter here at the Faire," Colin said. He sounded exhausted now. "And he's going to try to kill me again when he finds me here. And he might just succeed this time."
"He'll have to get through me first," Madame Mim said.
Colin smiled, but even Abby could tell he didn't think Madame Mim would be much help against a determined Hunter.
"Why are you here?" Abby asked. "Exposed like this? I mean, there's really nowhere for you to hide here."
"Sometimes hiding in plain sight is the best hiding place of all," Colin whispered.
"That doesn't seem to be working right now," Abby pointed out.
"It's been working for almost seven years," Colin said defensively. "We've been under the Hunters' radar until now." He started to try to push himself up, then thought better of it.
"Would he have killed you if he'd--staked you in the heart?" Abby asked.
"Yes," Colin said, and grimaced, as if the movement had caused him pain. "If he calls in reinforcements--"
"You shouldn't stay here, then," Abby said. "Go somewhere else."
Colin's eyes slipped shut again. "I don't have anywhere else to go."
"Sure you do," Abby said. "Away from here, for one--"
"And then when the Faire managements find out we skipped out on a gig, what then?" Carmen asked from the doorway. She held a tea tray in her hands. "We don't get hired anywhere else, no matter how good we are."
"But you're not--" Abby began.
"No," Carmen said. "We're not vampires. We're human. But the Hunters will kill us because of our relationship with Colin. Guilt by association."
"But Colin could--oh. The Hunter knows you're with him, doesn't he?"
"Yes," Carmen said. "He knows. If Colin leaves, we all leave. And then we lose our only source of income."
Matt walked into the room behind her, and Seth was behind him. They stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, until Abby said, "So. Okay. Vampires exist. What else?"
Madame Mim laughed. Abby had almost forgotten she was still in the room. "Maybe someday you'll learn 'what else', but right now, just concentrate on vampires," she said. "I'll leave you all to your planning. If you need me, I'll be downstairs."
"Planning," Abby said. "What planning?"
Almost as one, they all looked to Colin for an answer.
"You don't have to help," Colin said. "You can go back to your booth, although I'd request that you close up shop for now--we can compensate you for your set-up fee--"
Matt looked like he wanted to protest, but he bit his lip and turned away.
And Abby realized that on an income of just working at various RenFaires, they had to be barely scraping by. "I presume vampires aren't all rich, then? That's one of the untrue legends?"
Colin snorted laughter, although he looked like that had hurt. "No. Not rich. No family to fall back on, either. We're on our own."
"And yet Matt, Seth, and Carmen are on the Hunters' radar just because of you," Abby said.
Matt looked uncomfortable at her words; Carmen bit her lip. Seth glowered.
"That's true," Colin said.
"We're in this together," Carmen said, almost in warning.
Colin smiled, but the smile barely moved his lips. "That's true, too," he said.
"So what's the plan, then?" Abby asked.
"It's a bit risky," Carmen said.
"I'm planning to challenge the Hunter to a duel," Colin said. "To the death."