Oh, I did not know that I was lying. I had the noblest of intentions. But in hindsight, my behavior towards Justus was suspect at best. I purposely placed the cleric in harm's way, and why? Because there was a part of me, a wicked, grasping part of me, that wanted to impress him with my unnatural powers, thrill him with danger, seduce him with immortality and all its cold, dark glamours. I wanted him to be so dizzied with envy and lust and excitement that he begged me for the living blood.
Justus locked the door of his room as I went to the window and opened it. The chill night air wafted across my cheeks, carrying with it the chirping of insects and the low conversation of the night watch huddled down below. They were at the door of the inn again, talking about the vampires we had dispatched that afternoon. The whole town was abuzz with tales of our exploits.
Justus changed into a tunic and breeches as I belted my sword around my waist. I handed him my dagger with a daring grin and then I swept him into my arms. "Do not cry out," I said to him, and then I climbed from the window and leapt easily to the roof.
The young friar did not shout when I vaulted to the roof, but his body stiffened and his arms tightened around my neck.
"That was frightful!" he whispered, his eyes wide, and then he laughed, somewhat breathlessly.
"Be quiet," I admonished him, but I was smiling, too. I raced lightly across the roof of the inn and then bound through the air and into the field beyond.
I landed in a crouch, doing my best not to jostle my companion overly much. Try as I might to cushion him from the forces of my movement, however, I am not a magical being, and it took quite a lot of energy to propel our combined weight so far through the air. His head jerked to and fro and he grunted in pain.
"Are you injured?" I whispered.
"N-no," he stammered. "I don't think so."
I sat him gently on the ground and waited for his battered senses to settle.
"Let us proceed to Golub Creek," I hissed, and he nodded.
Mindful of the night guard, we hurried away through the field, staying low. As the village fell out of sight behind a screen of rustling trees, we heard one of the watchmen call out the time: "Nine o'clock and all is wellll!" The echoing cry stirred the village dogs to barking, and some irate villager yelled, "Quiet, you bastards!"
I'm not sure if he was addressing the hounds or the watchman.
The eastern road was but two dusty grooves winding through grassy fields and dense woods. Already a light mist had arisen from the earth. We walked, our feet stirring the milky puddles of fog, conversing in low voices as we kept a wary watch around us. The moon was bright, a silver ornament hanging in the center of the sky. It was so bright even Justus could make his way without stumbling.
"Do you detect any ghouls nearby?" the friar hissed. "You said your senses are greatly amplified over a normal mortal's ken. Will we have fair warning if one of them dares attack?"
"Yes and yes," I replied, meaning yes, there were ghouls nearby, and yes, we would have fair warning if they decided to attack us. "Justus, I can see all the tiny drops of moisture floating in the air, globules of water so minute they are weightless. I can hear the flapping of a moth's wings. I can smell Mayor Ivosevic's flatulence in his bed back at the village. I can even tell you what he had for supper."
Justus pulled a face. "That's revolting!"
I laughed.
"And the ghouls?"
I narrowed my eyes. "They passed near here. As recently as last night, I estimate. But they are far away now. We are not in danger."
Justus moved a little closer, his finger's tightening on the hilt of the dagger I had loaned him.
"I can hear your heart beating in your chest, too," I said. "Be calm. I will let no harm come to you."
"All right," the friar said. He let out a tremulous breath and said it again, as if he were trying to convince himself of it. "All right."