Free Liaison by Anya Howard Page B

feet, and the green cloth inside prevented me from seeing whatever she carried in it. Her hands were behind her back as I greeted her, and the staunch timbre of her voice was a little more subdued than I recalled.
    “You have the look of the famished,” she said.
    I smiled humorlessly, though it was a comfort to see her.
    “The hunger has passed. And though my perceptions are clearer than ever in my life, it seems I do not think, but rather functionally go about my routine.”
    Her eyes glinted. “And never have you been more assured in your actions, yes?”
    “Yes.”
    “I hope you have slept, at least a little.”
    I nodded. It was an embroidered gesture, but it seemed kinder than offering a comment that could inadvertently bring up the wrenching scene I had come across the night before. Irmhild smiled blandly. She had the faraway look of one contemplating some old inner turmoil as she peered about the lush violet-sprinkled grass.
    “The gods seed paradise by men’s actions,” she spoke absently, “and harvest it through the desires of women.”
    At my silence, Irmhild sighed, and brought her arms forward and took my hand. Turning it over, she laid in my palm a wide band of cast iron. It was pliable, but only enough for the task for which Irmhild had brought it. The very feel of it made me eager to return home and finish the rite before nightfall.
    “This is the last thing I may provide you. It will bring Carina out of darkness, but only your knowledge can keep her out of the shadows and exorcize the evil from whence it comes.”
    I stared at the metal in my palm: a fragile piece of simple iron, yet it seemed at the moment weightier than gold.
    She touched my chin with her warm fingertips, and again I was struck by the resemblance between her and Carina.
    “I have kept Carina’s fate secret thus far. But if you fail, or if you fall into their hands, I must speak to the council. Carina must not suffer any longer. And if Griselda possesses you, likewise she possesses your knowledge. Then shall she be empowered with the means to leave her haven and resume her pillage of mortality, and worst, be immune from our wards and rites that have thus far limited her power.”
    The breeze tousled her long white hair, and her wrinkles seemed more pronounced as I regarded her. “I have wronged Carina by my zeal to see the vampires destroyed once and for all. Do not insult her injury by jeopardizing yourself, Marcel. Save her if you can, but do not confront Griselda. Promise me this.”
    I felt her mind touch my thoughts. These thoughts, bastioned by keen and sobered intent, allowed only the reassurance she sought. Smiling, I took her hand and kissed it. A wilted touch of rose shaded her cheeks.
    “It is my mistake that led Carina to resign hope, not yours,” I said. “And I intend to do nothing more now than to recapture and protect her.”
    She seemed content with this, and stooping, handed me the basket.
    “After your work is finished, eat,” she instructed. “Weistreim is the baker’s apprentice and made this himself from the old recipe.”
    Without waiting for a reply, Irmhild turned and started up the street toward her home. Her shoulders were rounded and her gait wearily patient. My gut twisted with outrage to know the cause of her weariness. But smartly, I subdued the emotion, useless for the time, and tucked the items she had brought beside whatever was covered in the basket. Then I tidied up the classroom and hurried off.
    I did not return immediately to my cabin. Carina’s unexpected entombment obliged certain extra measures on my part than for which I was willing to admit to her grandmother. I made a trip to the blacksmith’s shop and asked to see the sturdiest iron rod available. The man showed me an assortment of simple rods that could be used as base material for other tools. Nothing, however, sturdy enough to pry open the sarcophagus. Then I noticed a rusted poker standing by the fireplace. A