The next morning, Hallthom stirred with unease.
Word traveled faster than birdsong in a small village, and by noon, everyone had heard it: the magistrate was found dead in his office. Not just dead—murdered. Brutally. His body was discovered slumped over his desk, throat torn open as if by a beast, his tongue ripped out and clenched tightly in one hand, curled like a dying flower.
Fear spread like wildfire.
The crowd outside the magistrate's office had grown thicker, voices rising in uneasy whispers as the details of the gruesome death spread like oil on fire. Among the people gathered near the square, a girl stood frozen in place.
Aleia.
Her fingers clenched tightly around the hem of her cloak, eyes wide and locked on the crumbling building. Her lips trembled, and her face had gone pale beneath the hood. She wasn't crying, but her body was stiff with a fear that made her seem smaller than her fifteen years.
Beside her stood a young woman with soft grey eyes, observing her quietly.
Evie.
She had come to the square after a visit to the apothecary, her basket still tucked beneath her arm. When she'd heard the rumors about the magistrate, she had walked with the rest, curiosity drawing her like a tide. But when she'd arrived and found herself standing beside this trembling girl, something deep in her gut stirred.
The girl wasn't grieving. And she wasn't shocked, not like the others.
She was scared. Deeply, silently scared.
Evie studied her from the corner of her eye.
"Are you alright?" she asked gently.
Aleia startled, jerking as if woken from a bad dream. Her voice came soft and hoarse. "I—I'm fine."
Evie didn't push, but she noticed how the girl's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"You're not hurt, are you?"
"No. Just… tired. I didn't sleep well."
Evie nodded, as if accepting that answer. But in her mind, suspicion began to bloom.
This girl knew something. Not guilt, no—Evie had learned the look of guilt well enough from Anny's stories and the village gossip. Aleia wasn't guilty. She was frightened. The kind of frightened that came from being too close to something terrible.
Evie's voice softened. "You knew the magistrate?"
Aleia hesitated. Then nodded. "I… went to see him once. My mother's been sick. I needed help."
Evie's heart clenched.
Of course.
It all made sense now.
The girl's fear. Her trembling. Not because she'd done anything—but because she'd seen what the magistrate was. And she feared he might've taken something from her that could never be returned.
Evie looked at her more carefully. There were no bruises. No visible wounds. But her eyes… her eyes were wounded.
"I'm sorry," Evie said sincerely.
Aleia looked at her, startled again. "For what?"
"For whatever he did. Or tried to do."
The girl's chin trembled, and her eyes brimmed. But she didn't cry. She just nodded once, a small, broken movement.
Evie gently reached into her basket and pulled out a warm, soft biscuit wrapped in cloth. She pressed it into the girl's hands.
"Here. You look like you haven't eaten."
Aleia stared at it for a moment, as if unsure what to do, before finally whispering, "Thank you."
Evie stayed close as the crowd began to disperse, murmurs trailing behind them like smoke. Aleia didn't move, holding the biscuit in her hands like it was a lifeline. Evie waited a few more seconds before speaking again, her voice low and calm.
"Sometimes people don't understand how brave it is just to stand still," she said. "Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is say what happened, even if your voice shakes."
Aleia's lips parted slightly. Her gaze dropped to her feet.
Evie crouched down beside her, so they were eye level. "You don't have to tell anyone else. But if you want… I can listen. And I won't judge."
The girl swallowed hard. Her small shoulders lifted with a shaky breath. "He… the magistrate… he said he'd help. I told him my mother was coughing blood. That I didn't have much money." Her voice was a whisper now, fragile as parchment.
Evie gave a small nod, listening but not pressing.
"He said I needed a silver coin… or…" Aleia's eyes watered. "He said my body would do."
Evie's heart broke.
Aleia wiped her face angrily. "I was going to run. I swear I was. I....I didn't think I'd even make it out. But then… then he came."
Evie blinked. "He?"
Aleia nodded. "A man. Tall. His voice was calm, but it felt like thunder. He asked me if I wanted to fight back or run away." Her hands gripped the cloth around the biscuit tighter. "His eyes were red. Not like blood. Brighter. Like fire."
Evie's breath caught. She knew those eyes.
Lucas.
Aleia continued, barely above a whisper, like she wasn't even sure she should say it aloud. "He told me to stay in the corner. And then he....he grabbed the magistrate and slammed him into the table. The magistrate screamed. Begged. But the man just asked me if I wanted to do the honors." She paused, her lip trembling. "I said I couldn't. He said that was alright. He would."
Evie didn't speak. She simply reached out and placed a hand on Aleia's trembling one.
"I didn't watch," the girl said, her voice cracking. "But I heard everything. The scream. The—" she hesitated, "the tearing sound. And then silence."
They sat in quiet for a long time, the hum of village life distant and muffled by the weight of what had been said.
Evie finally spoke, her voice steady. "You were brave to tell me. What he did to you was wrong. And what that man did… maybe it was justice, in a way we'll never understand."
Aleia nodded slowly. "Do you think he's a monster?"
Evie shook her head. "I think monsters hide in daylight with smiles on their faces. I think whoever helped you saw that and stopped it."
Aleia looked up at her then, the fear still in her eyes, but something else flickered there too. Relief.
"I won't tell anyone unless you say so," Evie promised. "But if you ever need someone to talk to again… I'll be around."
Aleia didn't speak, but she leaned into Evie, just slightly, like a flower leaning toward the sun.
Evie put an arm around her shoulders. And for the first time that day, the girl didn't flinch.
---
Later that evening, as the sky faded to blue and the air turned cooler, Evie sat by her small window, staring out at the quiet path that led through Hallthom.
She knew it was Lucas.
There was no doubt in her heart. The red eyes. The timing. The justice. He'd done it for the girl. And maybe… maybe for her, too. After hearing what she'd said in the carriage about the magistrate, he must have gone straight there.
He hadn't killed out of rage. It was something else. A calculated, grim kind of justice.
Evie didn't know if she was afraid of him. She thought maybe she should be.
But what she felt most wasn't fear.
It was a strange warmth. A quiet sense that beneath Lucas's cold, vampire calm was something more—something she hadn't fully seen yet.
And maybe never would.
She reached for her cup of tea and brought it to her lips, letting the steam warm her face.
She'd invited him for tea, hadn't she?
He'd said no.
But maybe he had answered in a different way.
Tomorrow, she'd see.