Between the Marshal & the Vampire(41)

Let's run away, she'd nearly blurted. She'd felt the change in Clay and Vellum, their emotions deepening and aligning with hers. The three of them could make a relationship work, she was sure of it.

But she'd hesitated, afraid of rejection, and the moment had passed. Vellum climbed into his crate, and she and Clay had settled down for their final sleep beneath the stars.

"This is as far as I go," Vellum spoke up, drawing his horse to a stop.

Having dreaded those words for miles, Mariel had to blink back tears before turning to look at him. "Surely there's some way to make them understand," she tried.

But she knew the entreaty and the possibility were both hopeless. Vampires and men couldn't live together. What she and Clay shared with Vellum was an anomaly, nothing more.

"Be well, Mariel," Vellum said gently, smiling sadly when she sniffed. "You and Clay must make your home together. I must find my home elsewhere."

"Why must you go to Scar Tooth. Just tell me already!"

He looked about to deny her yet again, then shook his head and sighed. "The vampire who turned me against my will, the vampire who murdered my family…he's there."

"You're going for revenge," Clay said grimly. His brows drew together angrily. "That's a fool's errand."

"It's something I must do."

"You're going after him to die!" Clay accused. "Dammit, Vellum—"

The vampire held up his hand to cut him off. "You won't change my mind. I must do this, and you two must do what you must. That's the way it is. That's the only way we'll all be happy."

"No!" Mariel argued. "We can be happy if it's the three of us. We'll forget the trial and turn around right now."

Clay rubbed at his eyes. "Mariel, darling, can you do that knowing that a murderer and a rapist will be set free to hurt yet more people?" When tears slipped from her eyes, he turned a pained gaze on her. "I know it's unfair, but you need to do this. You'll never sleep another minute if you don't."

Of course he was right, but that didn't make the unfairness of it all hurt any less.

Vellum guided his horse to turn a wide circle, the crate digging a furrow behind him as he aimed himself toward the mountain. "Farewell, my friends," he said softly. He cleared his throat. "Maybe one day we'll meet again on the Heaven Bridge. I would…like that."

Mariel covered her face with her hands and wept.

"Come along, Mariel," Clay said gently. When she didn't respond, he clucked his tongue and urged their horses on.

When they reached the gates of the fort minutes later, Mariel, exhausted, turned in her saddle and looked back. She expected to see an empty desert, but Vellum hadn't ridden any farther. He remained at the spot where they had left him, just another solitary creature of the night.

~~~~~

The trial of Rhody Beaufort, held three days later, was blissfully short, though far from pleasant. Beaufort, realizing that he wasn't going to escape justice this time, rained insults and threats upon the judge that were so hideous they made one female audience member faint. But it was Beaufort's last satisfaction. For his crimes, the vicious bandit was sentenced to hang until dead, which happened the following day. The Empire was rid of one terrible man.

Freed of her obligation, Mariel felt unmoored. She had been driven by the responsibility to testify and she had done her duty, but life after that felt anticlimactic. She had vowed not to return to the inn at Willowtown, but what would she do?

She walked the streets, studying the various inns and saloons and shops and tailors where she might pick up work. A particular storefront looked inviting so she entered it. Within the gloom sat an older woman, industriously sewing something made of gingham. Around her were piled bolts of fabric. On the wall near the window display that had caught her eye hung what looked like dresses.

"Afternoon," Mariel greeted.

The woman nodded at her and smiled, the needle in her fingers darting in and out of the fabric without missing a beat.

Mariel drifted to the hanging dresses and admired them. "You do lovely work."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Mariel gathered her courage. "I'm new to town. I was wondering if you're in need of help or know of an establishment that's hiring on."

"Could always use another set of hands," the woman said with a smile as she lowered her work into her lap. "I'm in sore need of another seamstress."

Mariel nodded eagerly. "That's wonderful news."

"You could start today if you like. Just pick up a needle and start sewing." The woman gave a hearty laugh. "Not much to it, is there? Pass a needle through miles and miles of cloth. Yet it's something that needs doing. You'll never lack for work."

"That's true," Mariel said, but her initial elation had dimmed considerably as the reality of what the woman said sank in. She could sew for miles and miles and years and years—and what would she have to show for it in the end? Money and pricked fingers but what else? What satisfaction?

What excitement?

Or was she spoiled to believe that she deserved a better life than this? An airship pilot was a dream for children…

She found herself backing toward the door of the shop.

"May I—I think I need to speak with my friend, first," she demurred.