“Is that so?” Amanda licked her lips. “Then allow me to show you to your room.”
Timmy frowned. “No snacking on her until she signs the contract.”
Amanda chuckled. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. The best meals are worth waiting for.”
* * *
Timmy grimaced as he laid eyes on the next candidate. After striking gold with Lillian, the next several candidates had all failed to pass muster. The most common complaint from Amanda was that they failed to meet her requirements. They’d all been young and comely enough, so that only left the, uh, virginal part. Timmy had no idea how she could tell without even getting out of her chair, and he wasn’t about to ask her. Some things were better left unexplained.
Spot and Chomp had also arrived two interviews ago. The pair was covered in mud, leaves, and what appeared to be bits of at least two separate deer. The dragon and the three-headed dog had curled up in one corner, and the interviewee, a young woman named Irene, had given a fairly blood-curdling shriek and then fainted. Timmy sighed. He wouldn’t have minded the would-be maid fainting if Spot or Chomp had looked like they were about to eat her, but the not-so-little reptile and the enormous canine had barely looked at her at all. Instead, they’d been more concerned with finding a nice position to nap in. Spot, apparently, enjoyed using Chomp as a pillow.
However, squeamishness was not what worried him about this particular candidate. If anything, it was the exact opposite.
“You wouldn’t happen to know Gertrude Cuthbert, would you, Francesca?” Timmy asked. He wasn’t sure why he even bothered. He knew precisely three people with eyes that exact shade of purple. It was the result of a family-specific form of magic. It made the aforementioned family eminently suitable for a certain occupation, one that involved a lot of corpses.
Francesca smiled. She was younger than Lillian had been. Lillian had been a month past her nineteenth birthday. Francesca Carter couldn’t be more than seventeen, and there was something familiar about her surname. “Yes, Lord Bolton. She would be my mother.”
“Good grief,” Timmy muttered. “I didn’t even know she had children. And given how old you are, she’d already given birth to you before she paid my master a visit.”
“Master, who is Gertrude Cuthbert?” Katie asked. Avraniel was doing her best to appear uninterested, but a small twitch from her ears gave her away. The elf wasn’t as well informed as she could be since she’d spent so much of her life in and around the forest dealing with the elves, which was a polite way of saying she’d been robbing them, setting them on fire, and generally making them miserable.
“You know how my master was kind of an idiot who made a lot of enemies?” Katie nodded. It was true. Her master’s master had been awesomely powerful, but he’d made so many enemies, most of who had not only tried to assassinate him but also her master. Even in death he was still causing trouble. “The Cuthbert family specialises in assassination. In the entire world, I’d say they rank in the top five. In each generation, one of them is born with eyes like her. It’s a side effect of their magic, and it is powerful magic. Her mother fought my master and lived. Sure, she didn’t win and I might have given her some help, but I can count on one hand the number of people who tried to assassinate my master while he was sober and got away alive.”
“And what kind of magic do they have?” Katie asked. It was always fascinating to learn more about her master’s past although most of his stories seemed to involve people trying to murder him or his master. It was probably why he’d often said he would be happy with a nice, boring life after retirement. She didn’t think he would get one, not as a Grand Necromancer.
“Their magic alters their perception, so it tends to stain their eyes purple. When they’re out of magic, their eyes tend to be blue. As for why they need altered perception.” Timmy picked up the dagger – they really should have put it away by now since leaving pointy objects out near Avraniel was a recipe for disaster – and threw it at Francesca’s head. It passed right through her head before one of Katie’s shadows nabbed it. “There you go. That is what her magic does.”
Katie frowned. Her master definitely hadn’t missed. He had very good aim when it came to throwing things. In fact, she’d yet to defeat him in a snowball fight even with her shadows. He was a bad winner too. He normally celebrated by shovelling snow on top of her to proclaim his victory. Sam was worse, though. The protoplasmic horror could throw dozens of snowballs at a time, courtesy of his many tentacles. Sam also used his victory to proclaim ownership of as much cake as possible. “What did she do?”
“It’s a form of intangibility. If she looks at an object, she can temporarily make it intangible. How much magic it requires and whether or not it works depends on the object’s mass, volume, composition, and magical energy. It’s why they need altered perception. When it comes to assassination, it is extremely useful. They can use it to get through walls and fortifications or to evade traps and attacks.” Timmy scowled. “There are some other things they can do, but I’d rather not mention them. Her family owes me a favour since I helped her mother escape, but they might try to assassinate me if I say too much.” He shrugged. “I can handle them if they try, but I am very busy right now.” He peered at Francesca. There was definitely something familiar about her, something that reminded him of someone other than her mother. “Does your mother still have a scar on her brow?”
The girl smirked. “Yep. It was a nice trick you pulled, making it look like you were fighting her, so she could get away. How did you do it? She couldn’t make your shovel intangible.”
“A prototype anti-magic shovel. The one I had then wasn’t nearly as good as the ones I have now, but it got the job done.” He stopped and stared as something clicked in his mind. “Wait! Your name is Francesca Carter. I know a man with Carter for a surname. You’ve got the same nose as him. You don’t mean to tell me…” He groaned as Francesca grinned impishly and nodded. “Oh, for love of…”
“Is this another one of those things you can blame on your master?” Katie asked with a giggle. She was enjoying this far too much, Timmy thought. She was lucky his idea of fun was rigging a trap outside her door to pelt her with flour instead of one designed to shoot magically enchanted nails. Avraniel was enjoying it too, but she wasn’t even trying to conceal her amusement. Amanda had the decency to keep her opinions to herself although there was a faint twinkle of amusement in her eyes.
Timmy gazed heavenward. “After my master started a war with a legendary family of assassins – some of who came after me for a while, which is why you’ll have to work extra hard if you want to overthrow me – the law got involved. Adam Carter is, or rather was, a Law Enforcement Mage of considerable skill and power. We worked together for a while since I was one of the few people who’d met his target – Gertrude – and lived, and my master wasn’t known for being cooperative. Me? I was more interested in putting an end to the whole thing. He’s not in law enforcement anymore. He’s in private security now, but we still write to each other from time to time. He did not mention having a child with the assassin he was so obsessed with finding and arresting.”
“It was love at first stab. My mother liked a man who could keep up with her daggers and blow her through a wall with his magic,” Francesca supplied, sighing wistfully. “They actually had an affair years before my mother tried to assassinate your master. I was born not long after, and my father began to search for us after he found out about me.” She smiled sunnily. “Thanks to your help, they’re happily married now.”
“Okay…” Katie scratched the back of her head. What kind of love story was that? “Wait… how old were you when her mother tried to assassinate you, master?”
“Fourteen.” Timmy chuckled at Katie’s shock. “Katie, they’re a family of legendary assassins who’ve been murdering people for money for centuries. They were not going to feel bad about murdering a fourteen-year-old necromancer, especially if they thought I was even half as bad as my mast
er. And, hey, my master thought it was great. Either I continued to get better, or I got dead.”
“If it helps, my mother now feels kind of bad about trying to murder you.”
“Great. Let’s move on. Why are you here? I wrote to your father last month, and he never mentioned you looking for a job. In fact, he’s never mentioned you at all. I’ll have to ask him why in my next letter.”
“It’s partly for my protection. We are a family of assassins, but he wasn’t sure how to break it to you. I know you and my mother had a truce, and she does owe you a favour, but she almost killed you several times.”
“Fifteen times. I counted.”
“Yeah, fifteen. So…”
“So…?”
“Here.” Francesca reached into her pocket and handed him a sealed letter. “I don’t know what’s in it, but they told me to give it to you. They said only you could open it. It should explain everything.”
Timmy read through the letter three times and scrutinised the signatures and magical insignia at the bottom a further four times before conceding it was real and authentic. “Your parents want you to be a maid at my castle because the assassins of the world are about to wage a horribly bloody civil war that will likely involve at least fifty different groups trying to kill you if you remain with your family.”
Francesca groaned and shook her fist at the sky. “Mother! Father! I told them I could look after myself!”
Avraniel smirked. “You know what? I like her. Assassins don’t like picking fights unless they have to, which makes this damn castle about as safe as it gets. You’ve got thousands of zombies, the rats, runes and seals, Sam and those other bastards, and all sorts of other crap.” She bared her teeth. “I doubt any assassin in the world has the guts to come here looking for a fight, but I wouldn’t mind it if a few of them dropped by. It would keep me from getting bored, and I don’t think Spot has eaten an assassin before.”
Tasty? Spot stirred briefly and then went back to sleep. Apparently, napping was no barrier to knowing when people were talking about eating things.
“Fine. I have agreements with most of the assassins’ guilds because of the help and zombies I’ve lent them over the years.” He looked at Katie. “Assassins, mercenaries, and thieves, Katie. Make sure you’re on good, or at least reasonable, terms with all of them. It pays off.” He turned his attention back to Francesca. “I guess I can hire you, provided Amanda approves.”
Amanda’s gaze sharpened, and she took a deep breath. “Her blood smells delicious, but I don’t think I have ever met anyone her age with so much blood on her hands.”
“You don’t mind donating blood to a vampire, do you?” Timmy asked. “Because it’s part of the job description.”
Francesca laughed. “I’m a trained assassin. I can handle giving a little blood. I can also promise that while I am a servant at your castle, you will have access to my other talents.” She grinned, and there were suddenly a pair of daggers in her hands. “Which means you have a world-class assassin at the ready.”
“Great. Welcome to the castle, I guess.”
Amanda stared longingly at Francesca’s neck. “I am feeling a mite peckish, would you mind horribly if I had a little taste?”
Francesca tilted her head to one side, exposing more of her neck. “I can’t say I’ve ever had my blood drunk by a vampire before. It should be interesting.”
“While you two are getting acquainted, the rest of us are going to get something to eat.” Timmy was halfway to the door when a certain reptile leapt onto his back and gave his cheek a happy lick. “Yes, Spot, you can get something to eat too.” He staggered as Spot flapped his wings happily. “Weren’t you asleep? Or do you automatically wake up whenever someone mentions food?”
* * *
The second day of the interviews had not started well. They were up to their fourth interview, and they had yet to meet a suitable candidate. One of the candidates had even accused Amanda of being a fraudulent vampire, suggesting she was simply a weirdo with a blood fetish. Amanda had taken the insult about as well as any ancient vampire would. The would-be maid had been escorted from the castle, shaking like a leaf, after Amanda had demonstrated, quite graphically, that she was, in fact, an actual vampire. Naturally, things only got stranger from there.
“You’re a Barisian heretic.” Timmy could scarcely believe his eyes. “I was under the impression they’d executed all of you. If I recall correctly, most of you were burnt at the stake.”
“Heretic?” Both Avraniel and Spot perked up. The dragon was sitting in her lap and sprawling across half the table. “Burning?”
“Katie, enlighten our fire-loving friends.” History was one of his adorable apprentice’s favourite subjects, and the Barisian Heresy was the sort of gruesome, bloody incident she enjoyed reading about.
“The Barisian heretics were a group from the imperial province of Barisia. They were supposed to have been destroyed more than a hundred years ago when the Eternal Empire cracked down on them. They were renowned for their expertise in summoning magic and magic pertaining to the creation of familiars. However, they worshipped different gods from the rest of the Empire and were widely thought to be supporting secession from the Empire, which eventually led to their destruction. Supposedly, they were all either killed in battle or executed in the aftermath of defeat.” She winced. “The Empire was extremely thorough. According to most accounts, the Empire didn’t stop at wiping out the heretics themselves. They annihilated every single bloodline connected to them. Master, what makes you think she’s one of them?”
“It’s her skirt,” Amanda murmured. The vampire’s lips curved up into a genuinely warm smile. “Your master has a keen eye for details, Katie, so he would have noticed it. Her skirt doesn’t move the way it should. It was especially noticeable when she sat down. I’ve read about the Barisian heretics myself. I believe one prominent family specialised in invisible familiars.”
The girl – Elyssa – grinned. “You have good eyes.” The formerly invisible creature coiled around her waist revealed itself. It looked like a cross between a snake and a gopher. “You’re an ancient vampire, aren’t you? Snuggles – my familiar – says you are, and he’s never wrong when it comes to things like vampires, zombies, demons, or werewolves.”
“I am indeed an ancient vampire. However, I am curious. What sort of creature is Snuggles?”
“They don’t have a name for themselves that humans can pronounce. They can’t usually take on a physical form without becoming someone’s familiar.”
“Interesting.” Amanda studied Snuggles intently. For something that looked like a cross between two such disparate animals, Snuggles was incredibly cute. “Should you become one of my maids, you would be expected to provide blood on a regular basis. As someone who deals with familiars, I am sure you understand.”
“Ah, right. I think my father mentioned something to me about vampires preferring the blood of comely, young virgins. It has something to do with their origins. Well, I don’t mind. It makes perfect sense.”
Timmy and Katie stared at each other. Really? It made perfect sense?
However, Amanda couldn’t have been more delighted. “What a lovely, young woman you are. And you must tell me more about your father. He sounds quite knowledgeable. Naturally, we will not be mentioning your heritage to anyone who might pose a threat to you.”
“Given how much the Empire would pay for ours heads, I’m not about to rat you out.” Timmy ducked as Rembrandt tossed a needle his way. “Oh, come on. You know what I meant.” The rat squeaked angrily several more times.
“Don’t worry, Rembrandt,” Katie whispered. “He’s not very sensitive. We can get revenge on him later.”
“You mean you’ll try to get revenge on me,” Timmy replied. “I’ve managed to stay one step ahead of both you and the rat, and I intend to keep it that way.”
“I won’t become a vampire, will I?” Elyssa asked.
“Not unless you would like to,
” Amanda said. “And even then, it would be some time before you were turned. I would have to be sure you would make a suitable vampire.”
Timmy shot a sideways glance Amanda’s way. This was unexpected. Ancient vampires rarely offered to turn people themselves. Anyone turned by an ancient vampire would be far more powerful than a normal fledgling. She must have seen something in Elyssa.
“Hmm… my familiars – and I do have others – live a very long time. Some of them can’t die of old age. Becoming a vampire would let me spend more time with them.”
“Please, don’t turn people into vampires here,” Timmy said. “We’re close to a pardon, and I’m sure there’s a clause built in there somewhere about us not starting a coven.”
“One extra vampire is hardly a coven.”
“I know. Legally, you need three extra vampires before you get classified as a coven, but I think I’ll look it up.” Timmy rubbed his chin. “Actually, Katie, you look it up.”
“Master!”
“Think of it as practice. If you’re going to run this castle one day, you need to be good at reading through contracts.”
* * *
“You’re cleaning the room…” Timmy stared. “You’re actually cleaning the room.”
“I am indeed, Lord Bolton.” Erina Iris, their last candidate, nodded cheerfully at him as she continued to clean the room they were holding interviews in.
As strange as it was to see, there was no denying it. She was doing an absolutely outstanding job. Good grief. He’d spent years trying to get rid of that bloodstain on the wall, but nothing had worked. She’d gotten rid of it in less than a minute. And the floor! It looked clean enough to eat off.
“I’m of the firm belief, Lord Bolton, that a maid should do more than merely talk about her abilities. I prefer to demonstrate.”
“I can see that.” Timmy pointed at the fireplace. Erina had somehow convinced Spot to start a fire there, and she was cooking a delicious-smelling steak for the dragon. “And the steak?”
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