Crimson Bloodlust and the Case of the Undead Mud-Dwellers Death

Crimson's black boots were not designed for walking through grassy slopes, and her cloak was not meant to be worn on such long journeys.  But at last, she had found what she was looking for.  The old Tavern at the foot of the Timeside Mountain.  It had been a long journey and she was glad that she had found it, it being in such a rural place.  All she wanted to do now was get some rest.  In the past few months since her husband's murder, sleep had not come easily.

She took a deep breath before pulling the old wooden door of the Tavern.  It opened easily.  She stood at the entrance to make her presence known, and continued to walk towards the bartender.

At one side of the Tavern, near to the roaring fire she made quick mental notes of the type of person frequenting the place.  It was just as she imagined.  Some sat; some stood; all drinking, yapping and laughing too loud. 

She stopped at the counter and took off her long cloak.  She could feel the burning sensation of at least a dozen or more pairs of eyes as she revealed a long dress clutching her hour-glass figure. 

She stared at the scruffy blue-eyed man who had pretended not to see her.  And now she had his full attention.  The bartender had obviously decided he couldn't ignore her anymore.

He froze as she slammed her bag on top of  the counter.  And he visibly shivered when she stared at him with intense violet eyes.  "I'm here for two nights, maybe three.  What rooms have you got?" 

"Rooms." 

He sounded surprised.  Or was that fear in his voice.  She couldn't quite tell.

She stared at his eyelids as he thumbed through the pages of his tattered  checking in book.  

"Cabins outside.  Number one and three are vacant."  He thrust the book to her.

She looked at his hands.  They were shaking.  "Mmmm.  Are there any windows in them?"

"Superb views of the outside.  There are mountains on one side and the trees in the valley on the other."  He nodded eagerly.  "They're..."

"No."  She said thrusting the book back to him.  "I want an inside room with no windows."   She could smell him, sweaty and frothing.  Yeah, he was like a glass of his own ale.  Tall with smatterings of grey running throughout his black hair.  A middle ranged ale still good and not quite past its best.  He drank a lot and she could smell it in his blood.  Ale wasn't her thing.

A rowdy group whistled at her.  "Hey, gorgeous.  We'll be having you tonight then."  Riotous laughter.

"The entertainmen's here."

"Nice arse.  When's the show?"

She ignored them.  Fools and idiots.

The bartender glanced up and his blue eyes met hers.  He seemed to have acquired a nervous tic in his right eye.  "Room 6 is free.  It's right at the back of the cave rooms deep within the mountain."  He smiled at her.

She nodded.  "That will do nicely." 

From behind, a drunk fell into her path, knocking her forward.  Instantly, she spun round and grabbed the throat of the offending mortal.  His feet dangled in the air, as she raised him up high above her head and squeezed hard, watching his skin colour a shade of purple before pushing him hard against the stone wall until his ale blood ran in-between the nooks.  She could smell the ale flowing out of him.  Pressing her body against his, she hissed quietly.  "If you ever touch me again.  You will not live long enough to enjoy the pleasure."

Every person in the pub heard the warning she gave that night.  And fantasise as they might, there was not one soul stupid enough to try.

She let him slide slowly down the wall as she relinquished her grasp and returned to her business with the bartender.

She picked up the checking in book that the bartender had placed on the bar for her.  "What's the matter, bartender."  She drawled as she signed it.  "'Ain't nobody here seen a vampire before."

"No.  Not that."  He stuttered.

"What, then.  She demanded.

Now she could smell the fear coursing through his veins.  She shuddered. 

The bartender leaned a little closer, to whisper.  "You're female." 

"You've noticed."

The bartender shook his head.  "It's not right to take in female vampires on their own."  He said.

The fear was positively pumping round his veins and she wanted to become part of his fears to close in on him.  She shook herself out of his direct vicinity.  That was not why she was here.  "Yeah right."  She said.

"So it's just the dwarves that think they can take on a lone female vampire?"  She enquired.

"No.  I mean yes.  Perhaps.  I dunno'  We get lots of vampires staying.  And I know why they stop here."  His eye began to tic again.

She raised her eyebrow.  "Really.  Tell me." 

"With all due respect to yourself."

Now he was overdoing the niceness bit.  She leaned closer to him making sure that he could only look directly into her eyes.  "Go on, then.  Tell."

"Easy pickings."  He nodded.

She furrowed her brow.  "What."

"The undead."  He nodded as if he had revealed the biggest secret in the universe. 

So it was true.  The undead lived in this area.  She toyed with the little piece of paper that she had received three days previously.  Before the letter, she hadn't thought her husband's death had been anything other than what it was.  A freak accident.  Accidental death.  Now she knew better, and she wanted some answers.

"I can show you where they are, if you like."

She handed back his book.  "I see.  Well, bartender.  I can assure you that I am not here for pleasure."  She straightened herself, pulling her shoulders up, back straight, stomach in.  Perfect alignment - just as she had been taught at training camp.  "My reason for being here is purely professional.  Now where is my room?"  She scuffed her bag off the bar top.

The bartender pointed tentatively towards the cave opening, immediately to her left.

She nodded and made her way to the entrance, safe in the knowledge that she would not be followed.