Chronicles of Klept

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Confusion and Piss

---

---

“So you’re saying,” I started, wiping spilled ale off the map of the castle Wikis had placed on the table with my sleeve, “that after Bot and I left with Barbara, you threw on some Dan’del’ion robes and just crashed through those big doors?“
The map, according to Wikis, had been drawn by Svaang ‘from memory’ and, despite not personally setting foot beyond the huge black doors, I immediately knew two things: The map was very definitely not to scale, and Svaang’s memory had very much been tampered with during his capture and torture at the hands of Dominic and the Court.

Carrie fluttered across the room with a sparkly pink concoction of Yaks.
“The robes were Wikis’ idea,” she said, gently placing her drink down and pointing to the scribble on the table. “She figured if we just burst through the doors, they’d probably start loosing arrows in our direction…”

“Or fireballs.” Wikis cut in between nibbles on a bread crust.

“…or fireballs,” Carrie continued. “Anyway, we had a few robes we’d taken from various Dan’del’ion people along the way, that festival attack – the group in the forest.”

Trunch placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Of course you’ll recall some of us were already wearing Dan’del’ion armor. From the greenhouse barracks. Before they were… demolished.”

I nodded to indicate I had indeed remembered. How could I forget? The sight of Trunch, Wikis, Yak, and Day all dressed in mismatched, ill fitting Dan’del’ion armor had been etched into my memory. They had looked so obviously out of place that the fact they were sitting in front of me now was all the more impressive.

Din placed his elbows on the table, ale dripping from his beard. Behind the exhaustion and the battle scars, his eyes once again held a satisfied sparkle that had recently been missing.
“It was a good idea,” He nodded, “It gave us an element of surprise. Just enough time to make sure any arrows or fireballs were coming from us, not coming to us – if you know what I mean.”
He smiled and raised his mug. An avalanche of foam cascaded into his beard as he drained what remained, then wiped his mouth with an armored sleeve stained with dirt, soot, and what looked like dried blood. The motion scraped across the flint beads braided through his beard, producing two tiny sparks in quick succession. Din didn’t seem to notice. No one else reacted. I made a mental note to remember to never hand him important documents while he was eating or drinking.

Yak leaned back on his chair and grinned. “Klept, dude. You should have seen us. We looked amazing.” He rocked forward, nearly tipping his chair, and took a theatrical swig of ale. “Like proper cultists.”

“We looked like drunks in someone’s stolen laundry,” Day corrected.

Yak ignored him completely. “And, it worked.”

I raised an eyebrow and looked at the group. “Define ‘worked.’”

According to Wikis, the doors opened without a sound.
According to Carrie, they exploded open, dramatically.

The truth, as usual with this group – and particularly after a few drinks – was somewhere in the middle. Either way, the castle’s interior was stranger than any of them expected. Parts gleamed with new stonework and polished bannisters, others looked as if someone had been rebuilding a ruin with another ruin. The grand staircase was half constructed, half collapsed, a monument to unfinished ambition. A single ladder stretched to a half-finished interior mezzanine balcony that wrapped around three of the four walls. Two guards loitered above. Apparently they were dealt with quickly.

Wikis flicked a crumb across the table. “One hit. Each.”

Yak gestured at me earnestly with his mug. “The point is, we owned the room the moment we stepped through the doors.”

“As much as anyone can own a half-built death trap,” Day added.

I tapped the map. “You said the place was still under construction?”

“Yeah. For starters, the main staircase was missing,” Din said from the bar as he poured himself another ale.

“The staircase and the railing,” Trunch added “Which I believe is a safety violation. Even for evil.”

Carrie twirled the lavender stalk in her drink. “The castle was brand new in some places. Like, suspiciously freshly built. And then others looked like they’d been abandoned for centuries.“

“It had been abandoned for centuries,” I said. “At least, as far as everyone knew.”

Din nodded. “Well heading through those doors, it was like walking into a place that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a palace or backstage at a poorly run theatre.”

“And failing at both,” Wikis muttered, leaning forward. “There wasn’t a way up to the mezzanine where the guards were except for a small ladder, and someone…” she looked meaningfully at Din “…thought it would be a good idea to try and climb it in full plate mail.”

“I was testing load-bearing integrity!” Din barked, more defensive than necessary.

“It wasn’t load-bearing,” Day said.

“I KNOW THAT NOW.”

“You said the main staircase was incomplete? Surely there was a way up to the higher floors, and what about these other rooms?” I asked, stabbing my finger onto Svaang’s interpretive charcoal sketched floorplan, desperately trying to make sense of it.

Day slid his mug aside, “This map is useless for a recap,” he said quietly, instantly dismissing Svaang’s attempt and tossing it to the floor. He looked up at Umberto, who was still brooding by the fire. He hadn’t said a word since they arrived back and he and Yak had been awkwardly avoiding eye contact.
“Umberto, can you throw me a piece of charcoal?.” 

Umberto knelt, picked up a stub from the ashes, strode over, and wordlessly dropped it into Day’s outstretched hand. Day hunched over the table and in a few quick, clean strokes he sketched the chamber, the ladder, the mezzanine, and the main entrance along with several other rooms. His drawing lacked Svaang’s ‘artistry’ but had exactly the accuracy the situation demanded.

He glanced at Trunch and held out a silent hand. Trunch sighed, reached into his pocket, and placed a small pile of coins onto Day’s palm.

Day arranged them with surgical precision. “The two guards were up here,” he said, placing two copper coins on the mezzanine. “We came in here.”

He placed seven silver coins near the door, tapping each briefly and marking them with the charcoal.

Umberto grunted, reached over, plucked the silver coin marked with a U, and dropped it into his pouch. Without a word he replaced it with a gold coin.

Wikis blinked. “Did you just upgrade yourself?”

“I leveled up.” Umberto grunted.

“Can I level up too?” Carrie cried. “I could be … a diamond.”

Day sighed. “Fine. Do you have a diamond you would like to place on the table to represent yourself?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then you can be this coin” Day murmured, tapping a coin labeled ‘CtF’ and never looking up from the map.

Carrie folded her arms and pouted.

Trunch cleared his throat politely. “If we are done negotiating personal currency, perhaps we can continue.”

Yak leaned over the table, squinting at the sketch. “Wait, which one is me again?”

“The one with the Y on it,” Din said with an air of exasperation.

Yak frowned. “Why is it silver? I feel like I’m at least… platinum.”

“No one is platinum,” Day muttered darkly.

Carrie perked up. “Can I be platinum?”

“No,” everyone said at once.

I leaned forward, wiping more ale from the tabletop before it threatened to wash away Day’s edges. “So the two guards?” I asked, pointing at the two copper coins on the mezzanine.

“I thought they were quite rude.” Carrie said, swirling the lavender stalk in her glass again. “They didn’t even acknowledge our arrival.”

“I told you.” Yak said with a smug smile in my direction, “We looked the part.”

“They were clearly disgruntled and inattentive,” Trunch said, trying to hurry the conversation along, “they were playing cards. Clearly annoyed they were on duty and not part of the ritual taking place.”

“Oh, did anyone see what they were playing?” Yak asked, sincerely.

“No. After Din put the ladder out of commission we couldn’t get up there. But I’m guessing it would have been Troll and Goats,” Trunch replied dismissively.

“Troll and Goats? At work? During a resurrection attempt? Absolute amateurs.” Wikis snorted .

Yak made a fist and scrunched his face “Damn. I’d have swiped their deck if I’d known. My Goat deck is missing a couple of movement cards.”

Day tapped the table once, bringing them back on track. “Regardless, they did not pose a threat. We removed them quickly and quietly.”
Wikis and Trunch exchanged looks that indicated they were about to chime in and say something about ‘quietly being subjective,’  but instead caught Day’s steely gaze and thought better of it. Day hesitated, an unusual crack in his otherwise flawless precision, before continuing. “Once we took out the guards on the  mezzanine, we were able to continue with the assault.”

“So what happened next?” I asked.

In my head — given everything I had seen and endured with this group — I fully expected the answer to be something like:
‘we all sprinted to different doors and opened them at the same time while shouting findings across the chamber.’
To my surprise, according to Day’s recollection, they were… restrained.

“We started checking the rooms,” Day said. “Somehow, without speaking, we agreed to a systematic sweep. Together. Quietly.”

He looked around the table to confirm this miracle had actually occurred. The group nodded with solemn pride.

“Starting with this one.” Day tapped the map and nudged the Carrie and Wikis coins toward a small square near the main doors.

“What was in it?” I asked, inexplicably leaning closer as though Day’s charcoal scrawl of a box might reveal textual detail.

“Broom closet,” Wikis said, sadly.

“Storage vault,” Yak corrected with absolute confidence.

“Yak, it had brooms in it,” Carrie said flatly. “And other cleaning supplies.”

Yak shrugged. “You can store things in a vault.”

Din cleared his throat with the weary authority of a man trying to herd cats through a narrow gap. He moved the coins across the map, placing his and Trunch’s tokens in the next doorway. “The next room was empty. Still under construction.”

“And dusty,” Carrie said, wrinkling her nose. “The Dan’del’ion Court needs a decorator.”

Trunch nodded thoughtfully. “It did have potential though. A few shelves. Perhaps a chaise. It would have made a nice sunroom. Lovely exposed beams.”

I glanced at the map again and noticed Umberto’s coin still lurking by the main door. “Umberto, what were you doing while they checked the other rooms?”

There was no reply.

“He was sulking,” Wikis said helpfully.

“I think brooding is more accurate,” Carrie offered. “He was brooding.”

A grunt came from Umberto as he pushed himself off his chair and returned to the hearth, staring wordlessly into the flames.

I made a mental note: Brooding confirmed.
“What about this one?” I asked, pointing to a larger room on the map.

“Oh,” Trunch replied, “The library. The first of several hiccups.” He slid his and Day’s coins to the doorway, with Din’s right behind them. Carrie, Wikis and Yak were moved across the room in support. Umberto remained near the main doors – I assumed still brooding.

Carrie had fluttered over to Bot, sleeping soundly on his chair, and pulled his blanket up around his neck. He made a soft, contented sound as she turned back to us and said, “I don’t know if you could call it a library, Trunch. It was really more of a small study.”

Trunch placed a hand on his chest, offended on the room’s behalf. “A modest study can still be meaningful. Do not belittle literature.”
Umberto silently lifted his mug in agreement.

“There was a guard inside,” Din added, in the same tone one might use to mention a stain, placing a copper coin in the middle of the room.

Trunch folded his hands primly. “He was initially quite polite.”

“He was initially quite surprised,” Din corrected.

Day nodded. “We opened the door. He looked up. Saw the robes. Blinked twice.” He moved the coins representing Trunch, Din and himself further into the library room.
“I apologised,” Day added, in the same tone one might use to explain how he politely declined a second scone. “Told him we were looking for the coatroom.”

“For half a second he bought it,” Wikis said. “You could see the confusion. Then he snapped out of it. You could see the change. The panic. The dawning realisation. He bolted for the bell on the wall.”

I frowned at the map. “Bell?”

“A warning bell,” Din said, pointing to the wall on the map. “Big one. Brass. Very alarming.”

“Would have been alarming,” Trunch corrected, “had he reached it.”

Carrie leaned forward, eyes wide. “He did not.”

Yak clicked his fingers and pointed at Trunch “Oh. I see what you did there! Would have been alarming!.” He nodded sagely, “Nice one.”
Trunch didn’t react.

Day reached forward and moved the guard’s coin a half inch toward the wall. “He made it one step.”

“One and a half” Wikis corrected, pushing the coin a smidge further..

Day coughed. “Din shoulder charged him directly in the ribs while Trunch hit him with one of his magical bolts. They just happened to connect at the same time.”

“And…?” I asked, although I already suspected the answer.

“He went through the window.” Yak said calmly, flicking the guard’s coin off the table.

“Through the glass,” Wikis added before slurping the last of her drink through a reed straw.

Carrie raised a delicate hand. “I would like it noted for the record that no one checked to see if he survived the fall.”

Trunch waved vaguely. “It was a very long fall.”

Yak shrugged. “He probably bounced.”

“I do not think he bounced,” Day murmured.

Din nodded sagely. “I doubt he survived.”
There was more slurping from Wikis, followed by an awkward pause.

“I am simply saying,” Carrie insisted, “we did not confirm it.”

I wrote in my ledger: Guard. Possible survivor. Unlikely. Very unlikely. Almost certainly deceased.

Yak leaned over to peek. “Write down that I said he probably bounced.”

“I will not,” I said.

Trunch frowned slightly, as though remembering something he had forgotten he remembered.
“Oh. Yes. Klept.” He reached into his satchel and rummaged for several seconds, muttering softly to himself, then finally pulled out a faded, leather-bound volume. The spine was cracked. The pages were yellowed. The cover was stamped with an insignia I had only ever seen reproduced in academic sketches.
“I took this off the shelves. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to really look around as the others seemed to think we needed to hurry.” He offered the book with both hands. “A History of the Humbledoewn Valley and its Surrounds,” He said calmly, as if announcing the weather. “Thought you might appreciate it.”

I took it carefully, reverently, as though it might shatter or vanish if handled incorrectly.

The world went oddly quiet.

In my hands was a genuine piece of pre Dan’del’ion era regional history.
Not a copy. Not a reconstruction. A surviving text.
My throat tightened painfully. I did not trust myself to speak. If I looked up, I suspected Umberto would see tears and never let me forget it.

Wikis, of course, noticed. “Klept? Are you…?”

“I am fine,” I choked. “Very fine. Perfectly fine.”

She leaned in, squinting. “Are you crying?”

“No,” I said too quickly. 

Yak sipped his ale loudly. “Looks like crying.”

Trunch gave me a small, understanding nod. “It seemed… appropriate.”

Appropriate? The most valuable historical artifact I had ever touched. A once in a lifetime academic treasure rescued from a chaotic infiltration in a collapsing castle full of undead in an attempt to prevent a ritual resurrection of a long dead vampiric tyrant.
I clutched the book to my chest, trying not to sob or shout or do something undignified with gratitude.

Carrie, oblivious, slapped the table. “Then we found the kitchen.”

I took a slow, shaky breath, placed the book inside my satchel with utmost care. A genuine, pre-Dan’del’ion print of the History of the Humbledoewn Valley and its Surrounds. The Dan’del’ion Court had spent decades scrubbing every inconvenient truth from the region. Libraries were purged, texts were replaced, and the historical consensus became a neat, tailored lie designed to flatter their own rise to power.
Scholars and scribes like myself were left with generations of gaps, forced to rely on fragmented oral tradition, deeply suspect Court records, and the occasional cryptic scribble in the margins of old account ledgers. But this… this relic was a key. It was the valley before the Court, before the corruption became institutional. The pages might contain the names of real heroes, real villains, and information behind the initial rise of the court.
This book was proof that their victory over history was incomplete. It was a silent rebellion, tucked into my worn satchel, retrieved by a quiet, magic-using academic who valued knowledge more than glory. I forced my breathing to even out. I should have been screaming. I should have been demanding a clean, locked cabinet. I should have been arguing for a week of quiet study, not another ale at a tavern filled with the scent of unwashed boots and bad decisions.  Instead, I pretended to focus as the others resumed arguing about stealth tactics and … startled kitchen hands. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, coming out of my reverie. “Did you say they were chopping parsnips?”

Carrie looked up from the last droplet in her glass. “It might have been a parsnip, maybe some kind of radish – either way I’m not really a fan.”

“So you stumbled into a kitchen where two people were preparing root vegetables and you simply… spared them?” This was a group who tended to take the violence first, questions later if the person was still breathing. The idea that they left people standing mid assault was confusing.

“They weren’t outfitted in Dan’del’ion robes or armor.” Carrie added, holding up her glass to check the bottom and frowning at its lack of liquid.

“They seemed genuinely uninvolved in whatever was going on,” Din said. The rest of the group nodded in agreement. “They thought we were a part of it all. Didn’t realize we were uninvited guests. They gave us a plate of little sandwiches to take to the reception.”

Yak looked over to me. “What?” He asked. “We aren’t psychopaths, Klept. They were just a couple of kitchen hands. The younger one’s knife work was exquisite. Precision slices. Perfect symmetry. He cut those parsnips into actual tiny swans.” He kissed his fingertips in reverence. “I immediately pictured him carving citrus swans for a Goblin’s Grin signature cocktail, something sour but delicate. You do not kill a prodigy like that. These guys were just preparing the catering, and doing a good job of it too.”

“You don’t attack the help unless they take up arms against you. Don’t involve innocent people.” Umberto growled from over by the hearth. He was clearly in physical and emotional pain. They all were, but it was obvious the events at the castle had taken a huge toll on him. 

I turned to Umberto, confused. “But, you punched that innocent old woman on the side of the road in the Dell.”

He strode across the room and slammed his fist down, making the coin markers jump. “She was being deliberately obtuse, and I was done playing games. I needed the druid to talk,” he barked. “Sometimes, when the stakes are high, you have to make exceptions.” He grabbed his gold coin marker, and slammed it into a room across the map, hard enough to scatter a few others, and then threw himself down on a stool. “Besides, she lived. The fuckers in this room didn’t.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as he glared at me before I broke and stared down at the map. Wikis broke the tension.
“The little sandwiches were pretty good,” she remarked. 

“They were exceptional.” Din muttered from within his mug, hiding his eyes. “The herb spread … just divine.”

“So Bot was right?” I asked, looking over at the dwarf sleeping on the armchair and trying not to make eye contact with Umberto. “What was going on in the castle really was more of a ceremony.”

“No.” Trunch was firm. “It was definitely a ritual, they just happened to also have hors d’oeuvres. They just never got around to the chanting part of the evening.”

“Umberto’s right.” Day got the story back on track, pointing to the map on the table. “We left the kitchen hands to do their work. The guard in the library was a minor hiccup, the drawing room however –” He moved the figures across the map into the doorway where Umberto’s coin was waiting, “– that was another matter.”

Umberto raised his mug, suddenly far more animated than he had been all evening.
“Ah yes. The drawing room.”
His brooding was officially over. Whatever had been on his mind, the retelling of the events and his return to the unfolding action seemed to have pushed it aside.
According to Carrie, at the castle Umberto had just needed some of the fountain water and one of the little sandwiches. The combination of fountain water and the tiny sandwich had worked some kind of restorative magic.
“He grunted. He ate it. And he was himself again. He isn’t himself when he’s hungry.” Carrie said, patting him on the forearm.

“When you and Bot left,” Umberto growled, “I was recovering. Obviously, I’d done most of the heavy lifting out in the grounds and on the ground floor. I just needed a little bit of recovery time to get my second wind up.“

I suspected it was more to do with Barbara and the discovery of her working with the court that had emotionally knocked the wind out of him. But I said nothing.

Din said Umberto had entered first and Carrie, Wikis, and Day had followed him in. According to Day, the room was rectangular and carpeted in worn grey fabric. It had two large tapestries hanging on the walls and one of those windows that didn’t open. Two figures sat opposite each other in large armchairs, a small table between them: a woman, no older than thirty by appearance, and a man who looked old enough to remember furniture being invented.

“They were vampires,” Wikis said flatly.

“Obviously,” Carrie added quickly.

Wikis nodded.
“It was the woman who gave it away. After looking us over.”
She moved her coin a few paces forward.
“‘They don’t truly expect us to feed off that,’ she said.”
She jabbed a thumb at her own coin.
“That, was me.” 

“She was being rude,” Carrie said, scandalised.

“They were wearing Court insignia,” Day added, “they seemed… disappointed. Like they’d been promised a meal and a show, and neither were what they’d expected.”

Yak leaned in, arms on the table.
“Trunch, Din and I stayed out. To keep watch,” he said mischievously, “you know, in case someone turned up, or the kitchen hands turned out be … anyway…” he gestured at the map in front. “When we heard the commotion in the room I went in. As her.”

“As who?” I asked

Din looked up from his mug, “As Naida.”

Yak smiled, “I swept in with dramatic flair and declared, ‘Ah, there you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Come with me. Quickly.’”

Carrie nodded approvingly “It was one of his best impressions. The stance, the voice, the subtle flick of hair.”

“Wait. It worked?” I asked.

“No. Not at all.” Carrie replied. “The old man bared his fangs and leapt forward.”

Umberto grinned. “They got me.”

Day rubbed his temple. “They did.”

“I let them.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I was luring them into a false sense of security.”

“You failed.”

I waved my hands frantically in the air. “Stop. Stop. Wait. They got you?” I looked at Umberto, “Did you get bitten?”

“They charmed him.” Carrie scoffed, “too easily.”

“I. Let them.” Umberto crowed. “It was part of the plan.”

“You started defending him.” Day said, annoyed. “You kept getting between us.”

“But. I didn’t attack you.” Umberto said matter of factly.

Carrie interrupted sweetly. “No, you just kept blocking our attacks.”

Umberto growled. “Part of the plan.”

Carrie twirled her hair, “He tried to charm me first,” she said, “but he wasn’t my type. So he turned his focus to Umberto.”

“I thought he was funny,” Umberto said, leaning back. “He made me feel… relaxed.”

“He made you feel obedient,” Day said. “He made you stand in front of him like a bodyguard.”

“I was buying time.”

“You threw Yak across the room.”

“He got in the way.”

“To be fair,” Carrie said, “he was trying to protect his new friend. The vampire. Not Yak.”

“To be more fair,” Wikis added, “he was a threat to all of us.”

“Which is why I tried to help,” Carrie said proudly. “I tried to shrink the old man.”

Day sighed. “You hit Umberto.”

There was a long pause.

I looked at Umberto. “You were shrunk?”

He laughed. “Reduced. I got small.”
I blinked.

“Goose-sized,” Day confirmed.
I blinked again.

“Imagine a goose, but it’s even more angry.” Wikis said helpfully.
I blinked again.

“To be clear. I wasn’t a goose. I was goose-sized. I was, and am, still very dangerous,” Umberto insisted.

“You’re lucky the spell wore off when it did,” Din muttered from his mug. “Another minute and I’d have had to put you in a bucket.”

“Enough about me,” Umberto waved a hand. “Let’s talk about the ceiling lady.”

“Ah yes,” Day said. “The young woman scampered upward, vampires can do that I learned, and I attempted to deal with her using firebolt.”

“You say attempted,” I noted, still looking at Umberto and picturing a particularly vexed waterfowl with a mohawk.

“We’ve established there was a tapestry,” Carrie whispered.

“A very flammable tapestry,” Wikis added.

“It was in the way,” Day said defensively. “My angle was limited. I made a calculated risk.”

“And lit the wall on fire,” Wikis concluded.

“We were making progress!” Day protested.

“In our defence,” Yak said, “we started the fire after the vampires attacked us.”

“They turned into bats,” Umberto said, grinning. “Classic.”

“Not right away,” Carrie clarified. “First the woman tried to climb up the tapestry.”

“She did climb the tapestry,” Wikis corrected. “She was crawling on the ceiling when Day lit the thing on fire.”

“I was aiming for her,” Day muttered. “The tapestry was collateral damage.”

“Everything’s collateral with you,” Yak grinned.

“But yes,” Carrie said. “Eventually, when things got… unmanageable… they both turned into bats and tried to escape.They flapped around for a bit, and then tried to go around us by hugging the wall, just out of our reach.”

“And that’s when Yak…” Day trailed off, brow furrowed. “Actually, I have no idea how that happened.”

“I told you,” Yak said. “Somersault. Mid-air. Upside down. Flaming robe. Two daggers. Boom. Pinned her wings to the wall like a decorative bat-sconce.”

We all stared at him.

“I was there,” Wikis said. “I still don’t understand it.”

“Neither do I,” Yak said proudly. “All I know is Umberto threw me and I threw daggers.”

“See. all part of the plan.” Umberto grinned. “You thought I was defending the old man, but I was helping you out.”

“She was still moving,” Carrie added, “but only just. She couldn’t unpin herself from the wall. With her out of the picture for a while we could focus on the old man.” 

“He was surprisingly lithe and spritely for a guy his age.” Wikis acknowledged.

Umberto leaned back and mimed cracking his neck. “He took a few hits. Gave a few back as well. Accidently hit me with one and the spell dropped. I came back.”

“Technically,” Carrie said, “you were still goose-sized when you started punching him.”

“She fixed it just in time,” Day said. “You went from punching his shin to punching through his ribcage.”

“He turned to mist?” I asked.

“Of course,” Din said. “They always do.”

“I hate that,” Carrie grumbled. “You never get the satisfaction. She did too, when Wikis put one through her chest.”

“She was pinned to the wall. Easy target. Straight through the ribs,” Wikis nodded. “ She hissed. Then misted.”

“Oh, but we did get one thing,” Umberto said, smirking.

I looked at him warily. “What… did you do.”

“They were trying to mist out the door,” he said. “Slipping along the cracks. Creeping toward freedom.”

“A vampire can turn to mist and return to it’s place of rest to regenerate.” Din spoke like a school teacher reciting basic number facts. “They must have had coffins nearby. My guess would be in the basement. The crypts.”

Umberto leaned forward dramatically.

“So I pissed on the threshold.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You what?” I asked.

“Urine,” he said proudly. “They can’t cross running water.”

“That’s not –” I started, looking around. “It’s not true, is it?”

“It is. I read it in a book somewhere.” He replied sheepishly. 

“I don’t think that’s how the rule is supposed to work,” I said slowly.

“But it worked, didn’t it?” he said smugly.

Wikis gave a thoughtful nod. “It did slow them down. I think they were confused.”

“Everyone was confused,” Carrie added. “Including us.”

“Which is how we won,” Umberto concluded, raising his mug. “Confusion. And piss.”

“That should be the Grin’s motto.” Yak said, “Confusion, and Piss.”

We all sat there for a moment, staring down at the map as Carrie drew slow coiling trails of mist with ale foam, swirling just short of the doorway.

“They were still in there,” Wikis said, nudging the edge of a foam vapor with her coin.

“They couldn’t cross,” Umberto added smugly. “Because of me.”

“What happened next?” I asked, looking around the faces at the table.

“I finished them.” Din spat. “Never leave a job half done. I hate vampires. I stepped over Umberto’s piss and summoned some spiritual guardians,” He glared at Day, “In a sensible part of the room.”

Trunch took a sip of his ale and murmured, “There was a sizzle sound. A few pops, what sounded like a tiny high pitched scream and then they were gone. And then the room smelled like smoke, a holy cleansing and … asparagus.”

“You put the fire out as well, right?” I implored.

“Nope.” Day replied. “Just left it lightly smouldering.”

“What were we going to put it out with? I had no more piss to give.” Umberto leaned back on his stool and folded his arms. 

I resigned myself to a shrug. “Fair enough,” I muttered. 

“That’s when Mathers showed up,” Trunch said.

“Who?” I asked.

“The butler.” Carrie said, with the exact tone one uses for a word like fungus.
“The one with the tea tray,” Wikis added.
“The one who didn’t blink,” Yak shuddered.
“The one,” Din said, “who said we were late.”

I stared at them. “Late for what?”

Yak threw his hands up. “THE CEREMONY, KLEPT. THE RESURRECTION CEREMONY.”

Day frowned. “It was a ritual, Yak. We discussed this.”

Trunch nodded sagely, ignoring them. “In fairness, we were late.”