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44
The smell of incense faded as they left the graveyard
and the forest rose up ahead of them. His horse pranced
sideways a little, objecting to the gloom. Elijah patted its
neck reassuringly and kicked it forward, his sharp eyes
scanning the edge of the trees for a shadow that was different
from the others.
Just as he spotted the little house, a flickering light
appeared in its window, and the horse shied again. Elijah
sighed and dismounted; it had been overly optimistic to
bring the beast here. Animals had never been as naturally
suspicious of him as they tended to be of his siblings, but
it was clear that a vampire was not the sort of companion
this creature preferred.
Elijah couldn’t really blame it for that.
He tied the reins to a hardy sapling that had ventured well
out past the tree line, and covered the remaining distance
to the little house on foot. By the time he reached it, more
candles had been lit, and through one of the windows he
spied a shadow that had to be the witch he had come to
see. Yet, when he knocked firmly on the door, there was
not even the slightest rustle from inside.
He knocked again and waited; the woman inside did
not stir. “Madame Ysabelle,” he called, trying to sound as
deferential as possible while shouting through a closed door,
“I have come on business that I believe might interest you.”
“Every stranger comes on business,” a voice warned from
behind him, “but it’s rarely any business of mine.”