The innkeeper's eyes open wide as the beautiful woman's voices fill the room for a moment, and she makes a sign against evil, but she says nothing. A moment passes, and then she shakes her head, turning to Wendel.
"If there is anything more dangerous for eavesdroppers to hear than that, I pray it will not be said under my roof," she says. "But I think your best protection is the celebration going on outside. Should anyone linger too near the door to this room, my staff will alert us."
It is loud out in the common room, the place is crowded, busy and fairly rowdy. It seems unlikely that anyone could casually listen to a conversation going on in here.
"If you have questions for me, now is the time."
Isabeau closed her eyes and sucked in a hissing breath through her teeth as the sound of Lucia's voice washed over. To the passing glance, it looked like she might simply regret that her companion had spoken, revealing that she was not of this world but the twitch of her lips toward a smile betrayed that she had not only heard her speak before, she reveled in it. She held her breath, taught as a violin string as she opened her eyes to gaze at those who would now be forced to accept her as she was or drive them both from room, likely from the city.
"Light, what are you." Bane whispers at the ladies eerie dually toned voice. He glances at the bottle of brandy and takes another quick pull.
Standing he grabs his hand crossbow and holds it partially raised, not directly leveled at the golden fire haired beauty, but not far off.
"So you all just waltz through the city with a monster in disguise, as if that is your idea of laying low and being productive." he spits with mocking disbelief in his voice.
"Speak creature, explain yourself or reveal your true nature so that the good souled among us my end your possibly foul existence."
The dark maiden again took on the posture of a body-guard as she stood and moved to block his line of sight on Lucia in one fluid motion. She bared her teeth as she spoke to Bane.
"She is not a monster! She is a goodly priest. And if you mean to harm her you will have to cut your way through me first." She moved her cloak behind her shoulders, and drew both shortswords from the scabbards on either hip. "And I will cut back!" She eyed them all wildly, knowing she could likely never hope than do more than die to protect her Sun, holding them as she fled. But die she would, if it came to that, she left no doubt about that.
SILENCE YOU FOOL!
Both the voices in her mind shattered through her consciousness like a gong of of disapproval. Fighting back the reverberations in her mind, she grit her teeth and pushed the angry retorts back to the deepest recesses of her thoughts. Taking a deep sigh, she looks up to Isabeau and gently places a calming hand on her taut shoulder.
Calm, Isabeau. Please, Calm. Take a deep breath and sit back down.
She looks up at the others taking defensive postures against her. She sits with a pleading look at those around the table before bringing her eyes to the center of the table. In a final attempt at a non-threatening posture, Lucia extends her hands before her and places then on the table palms up, too far to quickly grab for a weapon and too awkward a position to cast any spells with any manner of accuracy. She then raises her head in pride, not ashamed of who or what she is and waits for their judgement. She did not have a death wish though. She focused her mind on the brandy bottle next to Bane ready to move the object directly in line with his crossbow bolt and make a run for it. She directs her next comment toward Stenrick's previous comment but kept her focus on the table.
And yes Stenrick. Trusting indeed. If we are to work together, we need to know we can trust one another. We cannot feasibly work alongside one another and look forward during this investigation while simultaneously peering over our shoulders for a dagger at our backs.
Isabeau gives Lucia a pained look, but eases herself back down into her chair as instructed. "If you wish, my Lady. I want only to keep you safe." She does not sheathe the swords, or look any calmer though. She eyes them all like a cat in a room full of hounds, ready to spring.
Garold is afraid, .just not panicky, as he listens to the pretty lady...but his hackles are up. Garold looks her over closely, as he grips his 'stick ' tightly...feeling the need to convince himself she's not one of the risen dead...they are what scares him worst.
Stanrick winces as the tension at the table rises. He doesn’t glance at his spear behind him. If a fight does break out, he sees no point in attempting to use lethal force in this situation. As Isabeau returns to her seat, Stanrick exhales in relief.
”Now, let’s keep it civil. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, right?” as he asks the question he focuses his attention on Annette, hoping she isn’t frightened. If she is scared, he thinks that will set off some of the others. ”This certainly isn’t the worst event of the day? We found a corpse. I’ll spare you the details for now, but when I saw it, I felt fear. A normal reaction. Even a good reaction sometimes. What is that fear though? Where does it come from? If you’re afraid right now examine why. Do you think she will hurt you?”
Garold turns his attention to Stanrick for a moment...
No...
But pretty lady has very...spooky voice.
Garold relaxes visibly, and drops his gaze to the floor.
'M sorry. Been very...tense day...pretty lady.
Garold suddenly feels the exhaustion of the day catching up to him...he turns to the innkeeper... Where? Can we go to safe house?
Having been tense all day, and getting very little rest, Garold is now visibly shaking.
Bane, put that weapon down. If you refuse to kill this woman when instructed to, then no one is going to believe you would kill her either.
Bliznap Motions to Anette and Lucia.
All you are doing is making people dislike us, and that is just going to make our situation worse. Each of you need to sit down and relax. Let us continue on with the evenings pleasures and move to a more secure location after. I suggest we take this time to get to know each other as it seems our paths have crossed for a reason.
He finishes his drink and pours himself another. He then bows to Lucia.
M'lady, I must apologize for my friends rudeness, please excuse them for they are not as well versed in common courtesy such as I. Please allow me to express my sincerest apologies by allowing me one dance this evening?
After receiving a reply he turns to Dana.
Lady, I do not know what this badge represents, but I do appreciate the offer of food and shelter. Any useful information would be most welcome, as it usually is. As a local to this city, I know more than most how difficult it is to carry on within these walls. If you wish us to assist you, and it serves our purpose, consider yourself aided.
Isabeau remained tense, her eyes travelling less and less toward the others as their words revealed they didn't share Bane's prejudice. Now she focused on him and Wendel, trying to judge if the attack will come, and if so, when.
Wendel looks about the room in curiosity when the bells ring, wondering if they are just in his head. Then the woman speaks with a voice of harmonizing tones. There are vibrations in that voice which drive to the core of the warrior and stirs his guts like the swirling of wine dredges.
”Don’t mistake my intentions...I don’t…” Wendel’s words form on their own, coming out in a whisper to fill in the silence left behind by Lucia’s first words. His own words sound dull and distant, like trying to yell through thick velvet begin held over his mouth. He feels himself moving, shifting his stance, but Wendel can’t reconcile it. ”Perhaps...perhaps something...somewhere more secret to...to…” The swirling, sickly feeling in his stomach increases, threatening to empty its contents on the wooden floor.
”Light, what are you?”
Shifting his stance again, his knees feeling weakened, Wendel sees Bane lifting his crossbow, the black-armored man moving as though underwater to Wendel’s eyes.
”So you all just waltz through the city with a monster in disguise, as if that is your idea of laying low and being productive.
The next few moments blur together in Wendel’s mind as he tries prevent himself from vomiting. He takes a step back, wanting to get away even though he knows he needs to stand between the potential fighting. It was one thing when the danger was potentially directed to Mistress Dubois, but…now the whole room was going to erupt.
He squeezes his eyes shut until he sees stars, then opens them, looking first up at the ceiling and then down to the floor. He hears words like “monster” and “priest” as if from a distant cavern. Then there is a creaking sound...like metal and wood… By the time he gets his guts in check and the room stops spinning, he sees Bane remains on guard, but so is the dark haired woman. The other…what are you? woman lay prostrate upon the table but her head held high. The first woman has her blades out, eyes determined as she studies Bane and himself.
Wendel takes another step back when he sees the other girl, the one who’d spoken the strange tones. His hands are gripping...somehow, his fear and panic caused his training to take over. His shield is held in a defensive position and the creaking sound he’d heard is his flail in the other hand, held low and swinging gently like a violent wind-chime on the breeze.
Over to his side, Bliznap is looking up at him with disapproval, perhaps a twinge of concern at the prospect of the warrior swinging the flail in murderous arcs.
”I...I’m not sure I understand…” he croaks, barely a whisper. The fear in his guts begins to churn again as his eyes return to the blonde woman on the table. Wendel swallows, feeling sweat beading on his brow, his brown eyes wide as he licks his lips and attempts to speak again. ”Sorry, can someone please explain this to me again? Who is she...why does she sound that way?”
Stanrick cups the drink Bliznap poured for him in both his hands. He watches Wendel’s shaken behavior with minor concern. When people or animals are afraid they may be aggressive, feeling no other option.
”A drink might help,” he tells Wendel after sipping his. ”Calms the nerves. I’ve never heard a voice like yours,” he shifts his address to Lucia. ”Maybe we should all tell a little bit more about ourselves to build trust. I’ll start.
I grew up here, until my family died. After a year spent in an orphanage, where Garold was my chief protector, I escaped to live in the woods with Master Volfill.”
A splendid idea Stanrick! My name is Bliznap, but you all know that. What you all don't seem to know is that I am actually quite a famous musician. I am well known for my ability to play the violin, a fact which I am very proud of. I am what you would call a celebrity of sorts, clearly only to those in the right circle.
He ponders his last remark.
I am a local to Levkarest, and I hope to remain one. So far, that does not look the case. I hope that tomorrow will yield a better outlook.
Maybe she one of those angel-people...she's a priestess, Wendel, of the light. I don't understand, either, but she's about as scared as you are.
Garold shifts his gaze from Lucia to Wendel, and then back, before slowly reaching out a gnarled, calloused hand to gently place it over one of Lucia's, there on the table. He pats her hand three times, barely touching, before gently squeezing, and releasing, to step back.
She here to help...just like us. Maybe more. Maybe the light sent her.
Garold looks back at Wendel for a moment, then over at Stanrick... Right?
Garold pays attention to the others' introductions, then states simply... Garold... the ratcatcher.
Wendel nods agreement. ”Yes, perhaps a drink…” He looks back to side, right hand filled with the oaken haft of his flail. ”A drink might do me some good.” The warrior lips the weapon back onto his belt, then hangs his shield by the strap on the back of his chair.
There’s a bottle close to hand which Wendel grabs up as he sits heavily. For a moment he considers pouring himself a drink in the glass before him, but opts to simply put the bottle to his lips to take several long gulps of the red wine.
Folks around the table begin their introductions; Stanrick, Bliznap, Garold offering a gentle hand of reassurance to the blonde woman before speaking up.
”You’re no ratcatcher, brave Garold.” Wendel counters. He sets the bottle down in front of him and wipes the wine from his lips. ”You’re a man of exceptional quality. Honorable and honest, two noteworthy traits missing in most. Hold your head up high.”
His eyes drift over the blonde woman once more. A priestess? What god would curse his acolytes with such a thing? Before his mind begins running, Wendel draws a few more pulls from the bottle. Once finished he introduces himself. ”I’m Wendel. Arrived here earlier today in search of a man named Cerny Zvonek. I went to the Dark...” He withheld his own surname, not interested in connecting himself with a family he’d prefer to leave behind. Once he was done finding this Cerny and acquired his help for Walder…then all ties would be severed.
Wendel notes the silence in the room, realizing he’d stopped mid-sentence, his stare having gone distant. He clears his throat and continues. ”I went to the Dark Maiden, hoping to begin my search by asking locals...that’s when I and the others were approached by the Dark Lady Boritsi.” Wendel takes another pull before speaking again. ”She hired us to follow Alain Baton, seek out who he was meeting, then bring that person to her. It was clear she knew Baton’s nature...but it also grew clear what she planned to do to this woman had we brought her as instructed. As I said before, we altered the plan.”
The warmth of the wine began to calm his nerves, but Wendel avoided eye contact with the blonde woman for the time being.
The innkeeper nods to the gnome.
"What the badge represents is a willingness to oppose corruption." She frowns for a moment, in thought, and then decides to say no more on the subject. "If you wish for more privacy, I would suggest the hayloft above our stables. It is where I was going to take this one." She nods towards Stanrick, and then at Annette.
"If it is true that the Dark Lady is seeking this one, I don't know of anywhere in the city that will truly be safe. She is a terrible enemy."
Bane narrows his keen eyes and lowers his crossbow from this obviously non threatening woman as she spread her hands on the table. The dark haired lady still standing protectively at her shoulder. Unlike Wendel who appeared to be on the edge of emptying his stomach, Bane wasn't afraid, no this was all to familiar to him.
Bliznap orders him to lower his weapon and Bane does so albiet begrudgingly. Stanrick then offers an insight into his past and Bliznap does the same.
A forest dweller and an egotistical subhuman. Great, just great.
Bane lets out a huge sigh, his eyes that appeared deadly and hawkish moments ago suddenly look tired and much older than the man whose face they are on.
"Well since it seems we're all determined to be friends and go around sacrificing our pesonal wellbeing and time to aid strangers and make dangerous enemies, so be it." Bane takes a larger breath and spews out his recently terrible life to the group.
"My name is Bane Dahrkhand. My family and I are from just outside Souragne. For the last fifteen years I have hunted and slain monsters in a professional capacity. Before coming to this city, I found my wife consorting with a Vampire. I pursued the creature and slew him, returned to my house and in my rage, killed my wife Almaade. My twelve year old daughter fled from me and I have been unable to find her, so you will excuse me if I'm not interested in danceing!" the tirade comes out in a cold monotone that builds into a shout at the end.
Bane plops back down into his seat, taking a pull and staring into the bottle with a defeated look about him.
How terrible...
Garold had watched Bane as he spoke, then allowed his gaze to fall again, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. ...monsters...Bane hunts monsters...all Garold is is a ratcatcher...no matter what nice Wendel says...and he never saw...that poor boy...Garold is a murderer, now, too...a monster...they always call Garold a monster...
As Isabeau found herself the last one with weapons drawn, her shoulders slumped and began to heave as her breath came in shuddering gasps, finally allowing her body to process the fear and anxiety coursing through her. She sheathed her swords and leaned back in her seat as she listened to their stories. She focused on slowing her breathing, trying to calm herself.
She offered Garold a thankful smile as he showed Lucia kindness. Her eyebrows knit together as Wendel revealed they had taken a job from the Sefeasa, and then betrayed her. She was hardly surprised to hear the gnome was a man of standing, he held himself with the poise of a gentleman. It occurred to her that he risked more than his life, he risked his home, his reputation, maybe even his livelihood.
But Bane's story brings an outright appalled expression to her face, 'Murdered her mother before her eyes... and looks who he calls monster...' she thinks to herself. Though when she speaks she only asks, "How long has she been missing? Your daughter, I mean."
She takes a beat and another calming breath before telling her own story. "I am Isabeau Kobori, and I am not from here. I grew up in Barovia, raised by my father. He was a priest of the Cult of the Morninglord. He always told me I was the picture of my mother, but I have no memory of her. She died when I was an infant and he was killed three years ago. Since then I have been on my own. I take jobs where I can find them, and I had hoped to find work here. Unfortunately, paid work seems to be hard to come by while trouble is apparently available in ample supply."
"Madam Innkeeper, can you tell me about Feodro Zari? And who might be involved in his murder?"
The small woman raises an eyebrow at Isabeau's question.
"His murder?" she says. "In truth, I don't think there are but a handful of people in the city who wouldn't want him dead. Whether any would have the courage to do something about it is a different question." She looks thoughtfully at Lucia for a moment. "The man is a devil, though like many devils, it is not the crimes he has committed that make him so evil, but those he has led others to commit. Brothers betray brothers, children betray parents, wives betray husbands, and all to feed him the only coin he values. Secrets. And when he has a person's secrets, he makes that person his puppet, forcing them to blacker and blacker deeds. If one in ten of the stories I believe of him are true, the world would be better off without him. But he is the Dark Lady's eyes. Noone would dare." She drums her fingers on the table and then sighs.
"Whoever would do such a thing would have to be willing to risk Ivana's wrath. A madman, someone with nothing left to lose. Or someone willing to risk everything. With Zari dead, Boritsi would be half blind."
Lucia listens to the others telling of their pasts with intent and curiosity. Though she remains wary of the skittish Wendel and openly hostile Bane, she stays still and quiet through the introductions. Most of their lives were all filled with sadness, loneliness, tragedy and death. Her surprise at the ease of life the gnome was one of the strangest stories though as she has seen and experienced how those who are different are treated. It gave her hope that she could some how rise above the prejudices of humans.
Her own history was painful to recall and she would have rather not had to speak of it aloud. On that same note, her history would probably escalate matters withing the two groups just as it has started to settle down a bit. Thankfully, Isabeau went into her line of questioning offering Lucia a reprieve. Grateful for the break in the procession of things, she will remain quiet and listen to the happenings. Unless prodded, she will keep to herself, feeling that she has shared enough to the rest for the time being. Besides, sharing what she has already has almost gotten her killed on more than one occasion.
Isabeau's eyes went unfocused as she pictured the crime scene again, she repeated the line softly to herself, "The dark lady's eyes...maybe that's why his were gouged out.. to send a message. His throat was slit, but there was a ritualistic look to the scene where we found him. Not just killed, but mutilated and put on display. He was a man of enormous girth, and yet someone had gone to great lengths to support his massive corpse on a lattice of rope, woven like a spider's web. I don't think he was killed on the spot either, but moved there. The house is located about a mile outside the city. I don't suppose that sounds like any one madman in particular?"
"Also, who is Ivan Dilisnya?"
Obviously not.
"Dilisnya is what passes for the law in Borca. He is the commander of the guard, the enforcers," she makes a face, as if she'd smelled something foul, and shakes her head, angrily. [b]"Extorters, more like. Safety and peace, but only for those who can afford their price. They are the ones who pushed the beggars out of the city for the wedding, and turned their hovels over to house those who have come to enrich themselves during the festival. All to line Ivan Dilisnya's pockets."
"The Dark Maiden's other name is the Black Widow," she says, thinking. "It is said that she poisons her lovers, so that none can dispute her claims of purity. I don't believe she would kill him, though. She needs his information. Even if she had a reason to eliminate him, she would never display his corpse that way. The people Ivana wants dead simply disappear." She sighs, frustrated. "I can't think why anyone would hang a man in a spider's web unless it was to remind them of her. Of her crimes."
Garold studies the grain of the tabletop, and the rings of water made by his glass.
...this bad...this very bad.
Breaking her silence, Lucia chimes in softly wanting to be helpful though still treading lightly with the others.
Maybe... Maybe it was meant as a message to the Dark Lady. Not so much her calling card, but just the opposite. Maybe someone is calling for her attention. On the other hand, it may just simply be someone trying to point a finger at the Dark Lady.
I tend to recall a deeper connection between the two, speaking of course of Lady Boritsi and Dilisnya. I believe that should we interfere in the matters of one, we will be interfering in the other's as well.
Bliznap turns to Isabeau.
Now we have told you our involvement with the Dark Lady, and you have mentioned one of her close allies. What is your connection to him? Perhaps we are working towards the same cause.
Breaking her silence, Lucia chimes in softly wanting to be helpful though still treading lightly with the others.
Maybe... Maybe it was meant as a message to the Dark Lady. Not so much her calling card, but just the opposite. Maybe someone is calling for her attention. On the other hand, it may just simply be someone trying to point a finger at the Dark Lady.
Isabeau nods emphatically, "Yes, my Lady, I believe you have the right of it. A warning, or maybe even a taunt. I still think the place where the body was found may be just as important as how he was displayed. Is there a way to find out who owned that property?"
"Dilisnya is what passes for the law in Borca. He is the commander of the guard, the enforcers," she makes a face, as if she'd smelled something foul, and shakes her head, angrily. "Extorters, more like. Safety and peace, but only for those who can afford their price. They are the ones who pushed the beggars out of the city for the wedding, and turned their hovels over to house those who have come to enrich themselves during the festival. All to line Ivan Dilisnya's pockets."
Isabeau looks shocked and saddened by the Innkeeper's revelation. "You mean they removed people from their homes and now collect the fees the visitors pay to stay in them? But what do they expect the poor to do? They have no shelter out there, no food!" She shakes her head slowly in disbelief, wondering how anyone could be so heartless.
I tend to recall a deeper connection between the two, speaking of course of Lady Boritsi and Dilisnya. I believe that should we interfere in the matters of one, we will be interfering in the other's as well.
Bliznap turns to Isabeau.
Now we have told you our involvement with the Dark Lady, and you have mentioned one of her close allies. What is your connection to him? Perhaps we are working towards the same cause.
She gave Bliznap a considering look, finally nodding in agreement with his logic.
"Enforcers came upon us after we discovered the body and nearly took me into custody. If these two," she indicates Stanrick and Lucia with a grateful smile, "had not stood by and supported me, I might be in line for a neck stretching now. The guard let me go, but indicated he might suffer the same fate in my place if I could not find proof of the true murderer and bring it to Dilisnya. But if he is the Black Widow's guard dog, that might doom someone important to your cause. Someone who might just be mad enough to oppose her corruption openly. Honestly, I'm not sure what to do now. But I gave my word that I would come, so I must. One way or another." She sighed and lifted her shoulders in a shrug with a small rueful smile.
Wendel stares down at his bottle, picking it up to swirl its contents as a deep melancholy rushes in to replace the fear as it melts away. And now we return to the very reason I want nothing to do with my family... "'When you dance with devils...'" He says aloud, then takes a pull on the wine before finishing. "'...then devils are what you become.'" It was something Liam had told him many years ago. Wendel had been in his training yard, seated on a stump and listening to the old man carry on about the "ethics" of combat. All the young Wendel had wanted was to learn to fight.
"When you dance with devils, child, then devils are what you become. Don't be so quick to deal in death, there are other currencies."
His memory fades and he returns to the present. "If the murderer opened up this portly spy the way you say they did...well, I'm not so certain I'd want him to be on our side." He juts his chin towards Isabeau. "Mad...yeah, that'd be who we're dealing with. Mad and evil if they're willing to go to such lengths to deliver a message. I would hope this 'cause' the innkeeper speaks about would have nothing to do with the type."
The warrior looks to Annette then to the rest. "I wonder what this Baton sees is being worth marrying the Dark Lady if he knows his fate is death." He sighs and pushes the bottle away. "First thing's first, we aid you in finding this murderer, keep your guardsman friend out of the gallows. In the meantime, perhaps our innkeeper and her organization can keep Mistress Annette safe?"
Before the innkeeper can respond to any of what has been said, Annette is on her feet, glowering at Wendel.
"You told me you would get word to Alain," she says. That was why I came with you, and left our place. Now you think you will just hide me away and forget about me? What happens then, when he comes for me, and finds more assassins?"
"I will do what I can to keep you safe," the innkeeper tells the distraught young woman. Then she turns to Wendel. "But she is right. If Baton expects to find her someplace that has been compromised, he could be in terrible danger. Perhaps if you delivered the message, you could ask him why he is willing to marry a woman famed for her beauty, her wealth and her power."
She looks next at Isabeau, nodding her head. "Whoever killed Zari has done so on his own. He has taken a terrible risk, and whoever helps him takes a terrible risk as well. If it was one of ours who did this, he has forsaken our aid. We do not take it on ourselves individually to commit murder. There are ... other considerations. You may do what you must to pursue this individual without fear of losing my good will."
"I told you I would keep you safe," Wendel responds flatly. "If in delivering a message to this Baton will keep you from doing something foolish like doing it yourself," He glares back at the woman, matching her gaze. "...then consider the message delivered."
Stanrick’s drink is nearly finished. He hasn’t broken the polite silence he gave the others as they introduced themselves and discussed recent life in Levkarest. He shakes his head in dismay at the plight of the poor. Nearly all of their histories are tragic, he thinks. He sips his drink while listening to Wendel express his opinion about what the group should do and Annette’s strong admonishment about the change in plans.
”How did you plan to contact Baton?” he asks. Stanrick pictures the people they need to find in the city. It’s a hunt. First a few faint traces of scent until the trail is found. Now how do we take the wolf’s lesson and apply it to the city?
Lucia fidgets a bit in her seat. She bites her tongue as she begins to offer her own input.
Wise choice dear. You have said quite enough for one day. Bless your luck for not having gotten all three of us killed with that little stunt. What is wrong with you, you stupid ignorant girl. You are far too trusting. Some day soon child, your luck will run out to the detriment of us all.
Lucia sighs as she lowers her head slightly knowing the snake had a point. She has been too lose with her tongue as of late and it can only lead to more trouble. Something nagged in the back of her mind though and she felt this course of action was the right one. She needed these people and they needed her.
Bane's eyes took on a predatory gleen as the others discussed the plan of action the group would take. This would become his domain, a hunt, the pursuit and struggle. He could almost let himself enjoy the thrill, it was what he was good at after all. Unfortunately this would distract him from his true chase, but the longer he stayed away the more certain he was that his daughter had been lost to him, dead in some ditch on the side of the road.
No can't go down that road of thinking, do that and you will lose the little soul you have left. he thought grimly.
"This will be dangerous." he said quietly into his bottle not caring if anyone heard him or not.
Man was a deadly game, few evils could exceed the heart of men, and the danger was that it was the heart. A man could hide his nature, until the knife was in your back. At least evil creatures had the decency to look evil. Demons looked evil, werewolves looked evil.
Is my own capacity for evil the same as the creatures made of evil? Those born of it. I have already felt it awaken, and must not let it consume me. Fear and pain are what brings it. I must stand against these things in myself
After a short while, Garold gets up and trundles towards the back door. Let's get you safe, Miss Annette.
He stands there waiting, in apparent anticipation.