VIII

Kiyor idly sat on the roof of the two-storey building. Hawk and Siren were standing, surveying the crowds beneath.
    “Rowan is exiting,” reported Hawk. Kiyor only turned his eyes.
    From their distance, they watched Rowan and Manar step into the car. The lines around Rowan dissipated and as the car drove away, about 1 in 12 people were moving through the crowds to get away from the area.
    “Will we be following her, Kiyor?” asked Siren.
    Kiyor scrambled up.

People dotted along this dark street.
    The largest amount of people here was the convoy: the car that Rowan, Manar and two guards were in, as well as two motorbikes in front of the car and another two behind. The convoy stopped moving.
    “Those are the guards?” asked Rowan, watching the group of people gathered in front of the old chapel.
    “They are.”
    The women got out of the car. They looked at the old chapel, looming in the dark. It felt lifeless and imposing. It was regarded with suspicion (and a flicker of fear) by the people around it. Rowan felt herself tense up. She walked forward as if it was just a building. She and Manar were both surprised when they reached the entrance on the side and saw a group of guards standing around in a relaxed manner. Hawk and Siren were among them.
    “It’s amazing that so many people are afraid of this place when it can’t even harm anyone.”
    Rowan caught sight of Kiyor leaning against the wall within the shadows and his guards. She regarded him as she came toward.
    “To many Dark Citizens, it is more than a building,” she reminded the Vilkon. “There are many tales of people being pained and scarred by the intense light within a church.”
    “Exactly, they are nothing more than stories.” Kiyor looked beyond Rowan. “You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to Manar,” he told her. “She’ll be safe in my company.”
    Manar walked away, wearing her usual cold expression. Kiyor opened the door, politely letting Rowan in first.
    They walked into the middle of the chapel. There wasn’t much light. There were two small flame torches at the entrance, another pair at the opposite side and two big flame torches in the middle.
    “Who treads among my domain?” asked a voice so powerful, it seemed to fill the entire chapel.
    Kiyor and Rowan looked up in surprise. Hanging upside down was a Vampire who seemed forty years old, but more likely a thousand. He wore a dark suit, made from materials of the greatest quality, but with no tie. His shoulder-length, thin, black hair also hung down. He was staring at the human pair with indigo eyes.
    Rowan and her companion released a breath. Kiyor found his voice. “This is Rowan Kirilian.”
    The Vampire inclined his head. “And you are..?”
    “With her,” stated Kiyor.
    “I see,” he decided. “You prefer to remain anonymous. Very well, I shall abide by your wishes. I assume you are looking for me.”
    “You are Lord Winguard?” checked Rowan.
    “I am.”
    “I am here to enquire whether any…of your kind have fallen corrupt and…ignore the rules of the Sorcerer’s Guild.” Rowan kept her composure, but was not entirely comfortable confronting a Vampire.
    “I accept your respect for me Rowan, but please, stop being so nervous. We do not feed without reason.” From his point of view, Winguard lowered his head. “And you can call us Vampires, it’s what we are. Regarding the information, however, are you enquiring after any of us, or a specific person?”
    “I’m…wondering who has been practicing dark sorcery or hired one with skill to control dark sorcery,” Rowan now seemed more at ease.
    “To what purpose?”
    “Rowan is the target,” informed Kiyor.
    “Ah, sacrifice maybe.” Winguard drifted into thought. “Most likely to be Saraias. You can find her in the temple, underneath the Antiques Museum in the Sinctu Territory. She has blonde wavy hair, pink eyes, always wearing red dresses, about 800 years old. You cannot miss her.”
    “What kind of dealings does she have?” asked Rowan.
    “She seems to have one purpose or another. She allies herself with outlaws, of the worst kind. The more favourable outlaws she uses and kills. She bribes a few from the Sorcerer’s Guild time and again. Members of Kron’s Sect are often meeting with her. Is there anything else you would like to ask me?”
    “I think we’ve learned what we need to know,” answered Rowan.
    Winguard raised his head to look at them again. “In that case, we have the fee to discuss. When you see Saraias, kill her. She has become troublesome and the Council will thank you. Now be gone.” He once more lowered his head.
    The pair did not say a word until they got outside and closed the door.
    “We need to make plans,” announced Kiyor.
    “About how to kill Saraias?” asked Rowan.
    “Exactly,” he confirmed. “But we shouldn’t make them here.”
Chapter List
©Ruth Amy Louise Hüneke 2008