Heaven's Hound

Night would not arrive soon enough. Elyra sat on the low stone wall, her eyes glued greedily to the horizon, complaining that the sun was still up and would not go down for hours. She closed her eyes and pleaded silently for patience as her fingers twitched and found a grip in the crumbling brickwork. Even though her hunts were dangerous and she ran a huge chance of being discovered, she yearned for the darkness to fall just as much as any creature that emerged from its shadows.

They rested on the edge of The Whispering Woods, barely perceptible, enticingly close, when she opened her eyes once more. She made a face, but quickly pushed it away when she heard the Dorian man come up behind her, probably carrying a handful of sweetbread as a sacrifice. Elyra summoned a small grin for her eager admirer, shielding her eyes from the light at his back with a raised hand. Some would start to doubt her lengthy hours in these fields if she didn't properly control his feelings.

Despite being at least ten years her senior, he was attractive, had kind features, and exuded honesty. There was no hint of dishonesty or doubt in his smile, but it became bashful when he offered her the end of the bread flavored with honey, and he pulled his hand away almost suddenly when she accepted it. He said, "Wouldn’t have even known you were here, the way you keep so silent," in a kind but unsure greeting.

He couldn't understand why a young woman with her straightforward, charming attractiveness would be interested in him, therefore he never fully understood how to act around her. Furthermore, she could see the deeper reluctance in his eyes everytime they looked at each other because his previous wife had only been gone for two years. She was ready to take advantage of his uncertainty as well as his sorrow, albeit the latter made her feel guilty.

He struggled with his hands as she bit into the bread, his cheeks flushed with shame. He apologized and carefully eased himself against the wall next to her. "The last of the flour’s gone a bit sticky," he said. "The harvest is soon enough, though, and I’ll find a boy to help with the milling, and then…" An incomplete notion hung in the air as his remarks faded off, as they sometimes did.

Elyra said, "I can help you with the harvest," but she didn't think he would accept. "And I don’t need any coin." She expected the same rejection because it was the same offer she had made the year before.

He shook his head and rubbed the corner of his chin with his thumb in response. "No, no," he said. "The field isn't the place for women. It's a job best left to men; too much labor in the scorching sun." She didn't press him for an explanation, but she was irritated by his tactless rejection.

Since he had generously soaked it in honey, the sweetness of the honey made up for the bread's minor sourness. It was the most expensive treat their city had to offer, well beyond of his price range. She didn't think he had ever eaten it himself, but he always forced it on her. Since honey made her fingers stickier than blood ever did, she really didn't care for it.

She couldn't understand why, but Dorian broke the silence once again; she liked it that way. After a lengthy pause, he added, "I heard there was a young man up at Ravenwood Manor," adding, "Your neighbor says he's good-looking." Then hurriedly, "It's not that Matron Annelore doesn't get these kinds of guests! Arriving and departing, more visitors than anyone... His face contorted in terror at what he appeared to have conveyed, and he trailed off.

Ignoring his agitation, Elyra's mind wandered back to the morning when Amara had brought the visitor calling. "Good-looking?" she asked out loud, acknowledging that he might be, but she didn't feel particularly interested. "Probably his first day in town, or I’d have seen him before." Despite seeming to be unaware of it, she pulled a lock of golden hair forward and observed Dorian's relief at the change in subject.

Her voice softening, she thought of how quickly Amara had escorted him to Grandmother. As she considered this for the first time, her eyes tightened, remembering the stranger's blank expression, as if he had no idea why he had been sent there. There was something strange about it—a problem she had encountered previously. She gave a little hiss and flashed the tips of her fangs, but not enough for Dorian to see. She thought, "Damn that old woman, trying to face another demon by herself!" It was always a disaster. She stated suddenly, "I should go back to the house," without asking permission. "Grandmother’s already angry at me for staying out all night again."

Naturally, it was the worst thing she could have said, but she was unaware of it at the time and failed to notice Dorian's dejected expression. He said softly, "All night, then?" his displeasure mirroring her grandmother's censure. "All right, I won’t keep you…"

Without turning around, she leaped off the wall and walked halfway across the field to her house before she was hit by her own words. She stopped, pivoted, and glanced back at the enamored farmer. Her sharp eyes saw the destruction in his eyes even from a distance.

There was little need in fumbling for words, and nothing she could say would lessen that unexpected blow. A tiny, sensible voice murmured in the back of her head, "What, did you ever really plan to marry him?" as a weight descended in her chest. Absently, she waved a hand as though to brush the idea off. Thinking it was a farewell, Dorian gave a weak wave back and then looked off into the distance. He would probably spend some time staring at the wall.

She started walking again, loathing herself, cursing her grandmother, and feeling a strange emptiness inside. Did she really think spending time with him would ignite her love? She was twenty-one years old and had never felt that way about anyone. Maybe she was too much of a monster to be aware of anything so innocent. However, that simply made her think about her father and raised questions she would never be able to address.

Heaven only knew why the girl followed him. Although he reluctantly acknowledged to himself that he was at a loss, he chose to ignore her for the time being. Despite mapping the city's streets by sight, he had not heard any rumors of concern around his target. Did no one even know about the demon's presence here?

He raked his fingers through his hair, mimicking a nearby irritated melon vendor, but the move did not alleviate his frustration. Instead, he stopped to observe a group of kids running after a wooden ball through the street's carts.

He was so preoccupied that he hardly noticed the man across the street, peering intently in long purple robes. He sensed no demonic aura, therefore he didn't see why he should be alarmed by an ordinary human. But as the minutes passed, he turned to face the man, wondering whether he had something to say because of his steadfast gaze. The man's face was more angry than scared, and he flushed bright pink, crossing his chest quickly as if to protect himself.

"Have you something to say?" Unconcerned, he spoke out loudly to call notice to the man's rudeness. "Raise your voice. Please voice your complaints if I've offended you. They immediately became the center of attention, even though the man was obviously more disturbed than he was.

The purple-robed person muttered explanations as he slid through the crowd and ran away, leaving him to face the eyes of spectators by alone. They returned to their usual routines when nothing more interesting came up.

However, this allowed Amara, the girl, to approach more stealthily, believing she was invisible. He walked casually over to the cart she was hiding behind, leaned over, and gave her a patient, puzzled look. His gentle question was, "And you," "have I wronged you too?"

She admitted to observing him. "What realm are you from, other-worlder?" she said gravely, tilting her head and maintaining a steady stare on him. She spoke in a low whisper to avoid being overheard, but her words were powerful because of how boldly she delivered them. "Don't act like you're from here. because there's no need in calling a realm I'm not familiar with. Heaven or hell, then? I'll let you have your way if you respond."

He was difficult to influence. "So easily?" he whispered back. "Heaven or hell, and we part ways, with no more prying into things best left unasked?" He hesitated, allowing her to confirm or deny it, but she made no move, her gaze unblinking. She appeared to believe that her eyes could discover his truth on their own.

His lips curled into a tiny, amused smile. "And your fearlessness in asking doesn’t suggest you’ve already decided?" he joked. At most, it was a modest recognition as she gave a small nod.

In order to make sure she listened, he stood up, leaned over, grabbed her shoulder, and pulled her up. He uttered the words softly, "I may be nothing for a child to fear," but something in this metropolis should frighten any reasonable person. Be careful unless you can see into the souls of every man you pass. With a slight emphasis on the warning, he let her go.

Unfazed, Amara stared at him with her wide, accusing, guileless pale blue eyes. She stood her position and pressed, her tone bordering on hostile, "And do you even know what you seek?" "Or are you just heaven’s hound, chasing your tail with no purpose?"

Suddenly, she whirled on her heels with a shock and disappeared into the crowd. With a nagging feeling that something important had just happened, something he was now at risk of not noticing, he peered after her. Unable to understand, he returned to his hunt, no closer to his target, his throat constricted with uneasiness.