“Ms. Barrow,” Tristan said, “If you are indeed innocent, this will only help you.”
“But this is ridiculous. I know who reported me and I know why he did it. It was the blacksmith, wasn’t it? James Ashford.”
Tristan nodded. “It was him. What do you think was the reason for it?”
Ms. Barrow sighed. “His ego got hurt because I rejected his advances. I’m sorry, Inquisitor, but you’re wasting your time. I’m not a witch.”
Tristan had a feeling she was telling the truth, but he couldn’t ignore a report. He needed to see proof of innocence. “If you believe I’m wasting my time,” he said, “please let me do the search so I don’t waste even more of it. I’m not allowed to simply walk away. If you refuse to let me inside, I will have to use force.”
She pursed her lips. “Have you never thought about how absurd this is? Anyone can report anyone for any stupid reason. People use the Inquisition as a means of taking revenge for some petty stuff. How can you allow this?”
“You may be right, madam, but we can’t ignore reports since many of them turn out to be legitimate. If Mr. Ashford lied to the Inquisition, he will face consequences. Now please let me in. I’m asking for the final time.”
She watched him for a long moment before she said, “All right. That asshole is probably counting on my getting arrested for resisting.” She stepped aside.
Tristan entered the building. It was a small shop with herbs and medicaments. Perfect place for a witch to work on her craft. But there was no strange energy here, and Tristan suspected he wouldn’t find any hearts or eyes or vials of blood. Even so, he still had to do a thorough search. There was no point thinking about the futility of this. Any law enforcer had to deal with false reports. And perhaps this wasn’t entirely pointless. He was definitely going to pay the blacksmith a visit afterward.
Having—as predicted—found nothing suspicious, he asked the herbalist to unlock her house, which was the adjacent building. No need to travel at least.
The small house was neat and cozy, and Tristan tried not to make too much of a mess with his search.
“Do you live alone, Ms. Barrow?” he asked.
“Yes. My parents live in a different city, and I have no interest in men.”
Tristan wasn’t going to ask if she was interested in women. If he didn’t have that information, he wouldn’t be compelled to act on it, so he only said, “I see. The next time you are harassed, you should immediately report it to the city guard.”
She scoffed. “Those people are useless. Even the female guards don’t give a fuck.”
Tristan, who’d been checking under the bed, stood up. “What do you mean?”
“They are all easily bribed. I don’t have much money, but Ashford does. Also, a lot of them are traditionalists. They believe a woman my age should already be married and raising a bunch of kids. I’ve tried reporting and was pretty much ignored.”
Tristan despised incompetence. Especially incompetence that caused the Inquisition to waste valuable time and resources. “I’m done here. I will have a talk with the guards from this district. And Mr. Ashford won’t harass you anymore, either, madam.”
“Oh. Um, thank you.”
Tristan inclined his head. “Have a good day.”
He didn’t need to ride to the blacksmith’s workshop, as it was a short distance away. He left his horse by the stable and walked instead.
“Good morning,” he said to the large man who was moving some metal plates into the workshop.
“Morning.” The man turned and looked at Tristan. “Ah. Inquisitor. Have you dealt with that witch?”
“James Ashford?”
“That’s me.”
“You’re under arrest for making a false report and engaging in harassment.”
“What? False report? Harassment? Don’t tell me you believe that witch, Inquisitor. She’s a wily creature. Can charm anyone into believing her.”
“I assure you I cannot be charmed into not seeing evidence of witchcraft, sir. Now, please come with me. I will deliver you to the city guard and they will bring you to the city prison, where you will await trial.”
Ashford didn’t even say anything. He just turned and ran.
Tristan ran after him. He could have taken another route and blocked his path, but there was no need. The man wasn’t particularly fast, and Tristan caught up with him in no time.
Ashford whirled around and went for a punch, but Tristan easily avoided it and retaliated by punching him hard in the gut, then striking his back with an elbow when he doubled over. Dropping to one knee, he held Ashford down, his grip firm on the back of his neck.
“Resisting arrest,” he said. “Another crime on the list.”
“That woman will pay for this,” Ashford muttered. “I will make her life hell, even from prison. I have connections. I can have someone rape her, beat her up, even kill her. You’re making her life worse by arres—”
Tristan wrung Ashford’s neck. His duty was to neutralize evil, and since Ashford’s threats hadn’t seemed empty, putting him in prison wouldn’t have been enough. Now he was no longer a threat to anyone.
This mission had turned out to be worthwhile, after all.
Tristan stood up, dusted off his coat, and looked around. Two witnesses. It didn’t matter. He had the authority to kill.
“Could you get someone from the city guard to come here?” he asked the young man, whose gaze was darting between Tristan and the dead body on the ground.
“Y-yes, of course, Inquisitor.” The man ran toward the center of the city.
A while later, two guards arrived—a man and a woman.
“Inquisitor,” they both said, inclining their heads.
Tristan greeted them with a nod. “This man was a criminal,” he said before listing what Ashford had done and instructing them to handle the paperwork and dispose of the body. “I have also received some complaints about corruption and incompetence among the guards in this part of the city. If I hear anything again, I will use the little free time I have to investigate and punish. And as I’m sure you’re aware, I have the authority to punish however I choose to.”
The woman swallowed hard. “We understand, Inquisitor. You won’t hear any complaints anymore.”
Tristan doubted that. “Please make sure I don’t,” he said. “Also, should Ms. Amelia Barrow suddenly disappear, I will suspect the city guard had something to do with it. I suggest you ensure her safety, for your own good.”
He turned and left. On his way back to the stable, he bought two apples for the horse.
As he was making his way back home, still thinking about the poor governance of some of the cities in the kingdom, a girl ran onto the road.
“Sir! Sir!” she cried. She looked younger than ten. “Please help!”
He jumped off the horse. “Please calm down and explain what’s wrong.”
The girl took a deep breath. “A monster! There’s a monster in our shed. Father found it sleeping there. He came home to get a knife and went back there and—and he’s still there. Mother sent me to find help on the road. Please help us.” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Lucy.”
He looked in the distance. “Is that your house, Lucy?” he asked, gesturing toward the small cottage.
“Yes.”
He handed her the reins. “Stay here with my horse. If you see any suspicious people, get in the saddle. The horse will take you to a safe place, and someone there will help you.”
“Okay. Will you save my parents?”
“I will try,” he said, although the father was unlikely to still be alive.
When he reached the house, the girl’s mother emerged, her mouth poised to speak. However, Tristan swiftly pressed a finger to his lips, signaling her to stay silent, and gestured toward where her daughter stood. She gave him a nod and left, and he walked behind the house.
The shed was open. Whatever was inside, it would attack him the moment he entered. The good thing was that the door opened outward, so nothing could be hidden behind it, and he could see that nothing would jump at him from the left. The bad thing was that the shed was too small for fighting with a gun or a sword.
Tristan took out a knife. He picked up a rock and tossed it into the shed, then immediately went inside and turned right, holding the knife in front of him.
The girl’s father was dead, and his killer was a male vampire. A powerful one, as the shed had a window and the creature was unaffected by the light. It had also fed on the man, so this wasn’t going to be easy. But it wasn’t attacking just yet and simply observed Tristan with its peach-colored eyes, presumably searching for a weakness to exploit. It was about the same height as Tristan, and athletically built, but even the thinnest, weakest-looking vampire had unnatural strength when well-fed.
The vampire pushed a lock of its wavy blond hair behind an ear and smiled. Caught off guard, Tristan had to suppress the urge to step back.
“A pity I’ve already eaten,” the vampire said, then licked its lips. “The taste of virgin blood is vastly superior, especially when it’s presented in such an alluring package.” It smiled again, flashing its teeth this time, including the fangs.
Tristan doubted that the blood of a virgin tasted any special to vampires. He was almost certain the vampire was simply teasing him and trying to throw him off.
He hurled the knife at the vampire, then took advantage of the distraction and threw his entire body weight at it, reaching for his spare knife.
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