The Innocence of Death by E.G. Stone

Author:E.G. Stone [Stone, E.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tarney Brae Creative Endeavours
Published: 2021-08-12T22:00:00+00:00

Liberty or Death

Yolanda and I settled in a small tavern somewhere just beyond the border of the vampire territory. The tavern seemed a little convenient, the biggest building in a tiny village sitting at a crossroads just beyond the border. It was surprisingly well populated, though, with creatures of all sorts drinking and eating and making a serious racket. Yolanda said that the denizens of Elsewhere enjoyed two things almost as much as they enjoyed gathering power and causing trouble: alcohol and caffeine. As a result, there were almost as many cafes and taverns—not bars, mind you—per capita as any of the major cities in the mortal realm. This, oddly, made me feel a whole lot better about things.

Yolanda left me at the tavern, saying that she would deal with the artists—this, apparently, included a memory modifier. She handed me two gold coins for my food and drink and I happily left her to deal with the unfortunate humans caught up in this mess. I don’t know how she managed to get the artists back to Florence, but when she came in to sit next to me, they were gone.

“Want something to eat?” I asked, lifting my hand to call over the barkeep. She was some sort of gargoyle-type creature, with large bat ears, a visage of stone and long, deadly claws. Yolanda ordered eagerly and I took a long sip of my…I think it was mead. The drink went down smoothly and I felt the slight release of tension that the alcohol gave.

“Where did they go?” I asked. Yolanda shifted in the seat and shrank a few inches. She was almost back at normal size and she looked particularly tired, covering up at least two yawns in the space of a few seconds. I guess battle magic isn’t for the faint hearted or the under-caffeinated.

“There are not all that many ways to the mortal realms,” Yolanda said. “I had to whistle up a Ferryman.”

“A Ferryman,” I said blankly.

“Ferrier of souls from the land of the living to the land of the dead, wherever the souls go,” Yolanda explained. “Or, in this case, from Elsewhere to Florence.”

I took another pull of my mead, feeling oddly calm about having sent four humans with a rock troll to go meet a Ferrier of souls to the land of the dead. I had other worries to consider. “This place just gets weirder and weirder.”

The gargoyle barkeep set down two large plates of brisket before Yolanda and myself. My assistant dug in gladly, scarfing the food faster than some dogs. I watched, picking at my own food with a fork.

After a few minutes, Yolanda looked up at me, sauce smeared all over her face. She frowned. “You seem…sad? Where your face gets all pinched and worried?”

“Sad,” I confirmed. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the wooden whorls of the table. “I killed someone.”

“You mean the vampire.”

“Yeah,” I kept my eyes on the table. “And not an hour later, I was laughing.”

“You did not kill him,” Yolanda said firmly.

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