Most of all, I like to watch.
“Brian gave me these,” my human says, handing a round red orb to the witch. “He wonders if you’d like to make some apple tarts.”
She’s grinning at the witch, who huffs out a breath.
“Last week it was peaches, this week apples,” she grumbles.
“To be fair, the peaches in the peach melbas have been a hit,” my female says with a happy smile.
I like it when she smiles. It makes my stomach feel good, and most of the time my stomach hurts due to lack of food.
Because I can’t feed. Not only will it give away my presence here in Moranick, but for some reason, I simply can’t take any blood. Not that of the Redcap, nor the warlock who crossed my path last night. I don’t understand why either.
Feeding has never been a problem before. I’m not sure what will happen if I continue like this.
“I know what he wants, and we’ve already been there,” the witch says loudly. “We’re not compatible.”
“But you do like his fruit,” my female says with a snort.
“You are incorrigible, Kaitlyn.”
Kaitlyn.
I know her name. I’ve heard the witch say it often enough. The sound of it makes my crotch do strange things, things which haven’t happened before.
“Iamincorrigible.” She laughs. “And you could do worse than Brian and hisfruit.”
The witch goes to toss the apple at my female. I brace myself for a reveal.
If she tries to hurt her…I will not be responsible for where my daggers end up. This female is mine.
My mark, that is.
The one I’m supposed to be watching.
“Come on, let’s get a cuppa. I’m parched,” the witch says, and they walk through to the small parlour at the rear, closing the door behind them.
I’m good at waiting as much as I’m good at watching. I’d like to stay to see Kaitlyn do her work. It’s fascinating seeing her create things from other things. It’s the reason I wanted a closer look at the items she makes.
I wish it hadn’t been sticky.
But I didn’t manage to shake off my scales before I went to conceal myself, and if I don’t shake them off, I will shed and give away my position.
I will return later to watch my female. In the meantime, I carefully exit the shop through the door which has yet to be fixed. Stealth is my watchword, and no one sees me leave.
The sun is still high, and while I like the heat, I don’t much like the light, especially this close to a full moon, so I make my way rapidly to the cellar I am using as my current lair. The chill isn’t much fun, but the darkness is good.
I give myself a good shake out once I’m inside, the scales joining the many others covering the stone flagged floor, and I spark up the small fire laid in the grate. Above me there is a smithy, and any additional smoke is covered by what the forge produces.
Being seen last night was an error I cannot afford to have happen again. The reason Bluecaps have been assassins for many years is precisely because we’re good at what we do. Even if it was not what most Bluecaps naturally did. Most had a quiet, helpful life, without so much death.
Our ability to kill swiftly and silently was the reason the Faerie forced us into the wars in the Night Lands. After a while, I saw our numbers diminish. I haven’t come across a fellow Bluecap for a long time.
It’s the reason I was chosen by Tam Lin, the Faerie Lord, for this mission. If we’re getting rarer, my specific skills will be in demand.
Like so many of the other monsters forced by the Faerie to fight a war which had nothing to do with us, to kill in their name or they would do unspeakable things to us, I escaped. Some, like the Lambton Wyrm, were able to walk away, his bonds weaker than others. Some still remain across the border, like the Brag, Warden. Some, like the Barghest, have found their own freedom.
They have escaped the sounds and sights which I cannot shake, which penetrate my waking world and, on those rare occasions I sleep, my unconscious state too.
