Theiden stepped around the barrels and looked down the street.  The men chasing Lenesa had come to a stop at the next intersection, looking lost.

"Hey!" he called out, and they turned to face him. "What's going on?"

"Who're you?" one of the men shouted back. Theiden jogged over to them, away from Lenesa, to continue the conversation.

"I'm Theiden Guster," he said once he got within talking range. "And you are...?"

The first man snorted and spat a yellowish glob off the curb. "Callan Hreth. We're part-a Decliteur's team."

That they were witch hunters didn't surprise Theiden—he'd guessed as much when Lenesa had mentioned the head witch hunter. Still, he decided to feign ignorance and ask, "I saw you were running. What was that about?"

"Chasing," Callan corrected, and his two cronies nodded. "Decliteur spotted a 'spicious lady outside the Ferryman's Rest. Ran when 'e tried confrontin' 'er, so 'e sent us to follow. Pro'ly a witch. But she just gave us the slip a moment ago."

Theiden gave a skeptical grin, hoping to dissuade the men. "A witch, inside the city? That's a bit far-fetched, don't you think?"

Callan shrugged. "Decliteur's a smart man. 'Is instink's pretty spot-on." He paused for a moment, rubbing his nose in thought. "Wha' d'you know 'bout witches, anyway?"

"Well..." Theiden shrugged innocently. "I was held hostage by one for the past several months."

Callan's eyes widened at the admission, and the mouths of the men behind him parted in surprise.

"Oh, you're that fellow!" Callan exclaimed. "Decliteur'll be wantin' ta pick your brains 'bout that. Why don' you follow us? 'E'll be waitin' back at the Ferryman's Rest." He took a step forward, then paused, turning back to one of the other men in the group. "Oh, Tareth, since we lost 'er, you'd better let the guards at the gate know 'bout that mysteeryus lady. In case she's a witch, we don' want 'er gettin' back out, so we can catch 'er more easily."

The younger man named Tareth nodded in agreement. "Right you are, Callan," he said. "I'll send word down to the guards and meet you back at the inn."

As soon as Tareth had taken off, Callan turned back to Theiden. "C'mon, follow us," he said, giving a nod to the remaining man with him.

"It's very interesting, the work you do," Theiden began as they headed back up the street. "Everyone in town really respects what you do to keep us safe." He was painfully aware of the alleyway next to the milliner's shop as they passed, but didn't dare to do more than glance at it out of the corner of his eye. If Lenesa was still hiding behind the barrels, he didn't want to draw any attention to the spot.

Luckily, his flattery worked, and Callan and the other man were too caught up in the praise than to want to search for any potential hiding places.

"It's a rig'rous trainin', t'be sure," Callan said. "Them witches are nasty, c'nnivin' creatures. Slayed a couple-a them myself." He grinned proudly at the fact.

They passed the bakery, and Theiden paused. He'd given his word to tell Valas about his time in the mountains first, but there was no helping the situation now. If he wanted to draw the witch hunters away from Lenesa, he would have to follow through with going back to the Ferryman's Rest and meeting with the whole team.

"Theiden!"

It was as though Valas had heard his thoughts. The baker came hurrying out of his shop, and Callan and the other man came to a stop next to Theiden.

"It's nearly dark!" Valas exclaimed. "What are you all doing outside so late?"

Theiden was surprised to find that he was relieved at the baker's presence.

"Valas," he answered carefully, "the witch hunters would like to talk with me about my time in the mountains. Would you like to join us?"

"Join?" the other witch hunter spluttered. "Who said anything about him coming along?" Callan looked similarly displeased.

But Valas's eyes lit up at the invitation. "Well, you did promise to tell me about it first," he said. "Give me a moment to finish locking up and I'll be right back."

Theiden studiously ignored Callan's glare as they waited for Valas to join them. When the baker finally returned, the two witch hunters set off at a brisk pace, leaving Theiden and Valas hurrying to catch up.

"This is so exciting," Valas breathlessly exclaimed as they jogged along. "A meeting with the witch hunters!"

"Yes," was all Thieden said, not sharing quite the same enthusiasm. Before living with Lenesa, he had been just like the baker—respectful of and eager for a chance to meet with the witch hunters. Now, however, all that remained was a feeling of uneasy anticipation. He'd rather not become involved, but at least with Valas present, he wouldn't be the only non-witch hunter at this gathering.

"Here we are," Callan said, drawing Theiden from his worries. The wooden sign of the Ferryman's Rest loomed overhead, swinging in a slight breeze. The other witch hunter with Callan went in first, holding the door open for Theiden and Valas to enter, then Callan behind them. Theiden couldn't help but feel as though they were being corralled inside and blocked from escaping.

The common room of the inn was beginning to get crowded for dinnertime, voices humming over the sound of crackling fire and clicking glasses. Servers hurried from table to table balancing trays and bearing sloshing mugs in various golden hues. Theiden glanced around the room, but didn't see Decliteur anywhere. Instead, the two witch hunters ushered him and Valas to a table at the back of the room, and they sat down in an uncomfortable silence.

"So..." Valas ventured after a moment, tapping his index fingers together above the table, "do we want to start, or—"

"We wait for Decliteur," the witch hunter next to Callan interrupted, leaning back in his chair and gesturing for one of the serving girls to come over.

The girl wasn't much older than Malisse had been when he'd first met her, Theiden noticed. She smiled sweetly and gave a quick curtsy before speaking.

"What'll it be, sirs?" she asked.

"Whiskey for me," the man said. "Anyone else?"

"I'll take a bourbon," Valas added, while Callan ordered a whiskey as well.

"Just a beer, thanks," Theiden said when all eyes turned to him. The serving girl nodded and rushed off, leaving the four men to wordlessly lapse back into the warm ambience of the inn. Somehow, the warmth didn't seem to quite reach their table. Trying to ignore the uneasy atmosphere between them, Theiden looked down and rubbed his forefinger over an uneven scratch in the wooden tabletop before him. Then a shadow fell over the mark, and a voice spoke.

"You didn't catch her." The voice was dark, with all the power and grit of a mountain. Theiden looked up to see one of the city's most famous faces—the hard lines and keen eyes even sharper in the shadowy light of the inn. Sarav Decliteur had arrived.

Before anyone could respond, the head witch hunter had pulled out a chair from the neighboring table with a loud rasp of wood-on-floor, swinging it around to face the head of the table before sitting down. The man's eyes immediately locked with Theiden's.

Callan cleared his throat. "Sarav, this is—"

"Theiden Guster," Decliteur said. "People have been talking about you." Then his attention switched to Valas. "And you?"

"I-I'm Valas Ban Grune, the baker on Selleth Street," Valas began. "It is really such an honor to meet—"

"You weren't invited," Decliteur interrupted. "Leave."

"Actually," Theiden cut in before Valas could object. "I invited him. It's part of a deal we have. Either he stays, or I'll have to talk to you all at a later time. Your choice."

He hadn't meant to be so rude, but Decliteur's attitude towards the baker had irked him. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he realized he shouldn't have been so forward with a group of such dangerous men. Judging by the glare on Callan's face, he half-expected a knife to be stuck into the table at any moment as a warning to not be so outspoken again. Instead, however, Decliteur gave a low chuckle.

"A man who sticks to his principles, I see," the head witch hunter said, crossing his arms and leaning back. "The baker can stay, if you get on with your story, and tell every detail."

The serving girl came back—just in time, as Theiden's mouth had suddenly gone very dry. He picked up the stein of beer as soon as it was set down and opened the lid to take a swig.

"And anything for you, sir?" the girl asked, sidling up to Decliteur with a coy smile.

"Not at the moment, sweetling," Decliteur replied, putting a hand on her back and then drifting lower. "Perhaps something later, though." His confident smirk spoke of just what he meant by that statement.

The girl held up a hand to hide her giggle. She hurried away after being given a dismissive pat on her rear, though it was not without an excited glance back at their table and perhaps an extra sway in her steps. Theiden watched the exchange feeling as though the beer had just soured in his stomach. Decliteur was at least ten times his senior, and much older than the girl than was appropriate. Though the witch hunters were grinning after her, Theiden noticed that beside him, Valas had suddenly found his glass of bourbon extremely interesting.

Decliteur turned back. "Perks of the trade, gentlemen." Valas's laugh sounded forced alongside the other men's but rather than join in, Theiden opted to wash out the bitter taste in his mouth with another swallow of beer.

"Now, where were we?" Decliteur's question needed no answer, as Theiden suddenly found all eyes back on him. "You were going to tell us what happened while you were away."

Theiden bit the inside of his lip and gave a curt nod. "Of course," he said. He had had enough time now to think of what he would say. The bottom line was that his prior expectations of the witch hunters left much to be desired. He would tell them most of what had happened, but he would not say enough to be helpful.

"It began when a witch cursed my daughter," he began. "Em was outside the city walls a bit late at night, and came across the witch."

"Lucky the creature didn' do more than curse 'er," Callan muttered. The other men at the table nodded.

Theiden continued. He explained how he had chased after the witch, determined to make her pay for terrorizing his daughter, and how she had offered him a deal, to trade his life for his daughter's. Theiden talked about the witch's house, high up on Nagamora, and her strange trips in the middle of the night. He mentioned the fauns, and the fight with Audeste, but he left out Kivirra entirely, and finished by explaining that he had escaped from the witch at last and returned to the city. If the witch hunters learned that Lenesa had sent him back willingly, they might become suspicious that he was under a spell.

"There's one thing I don't understand," Valas pressed when Theiden had finished his narrative. "You said you escaped from the witch's hut in the dead of night and returned to the city. But if she lives at the top of Nagamora—well, that's one of the tallest mountains in the Azaloms! The journey should have taken you a week at least. Could it be that you were bewitched, and it was all an illusion?"

"Bewitched?" Theiden shook his head. He'd need to choose his next words carefully. He couldn't afford to lose his credibility on this. Unfortunately, he could see only one possible answer to Valas's question—telling the truth. "No...There's a—well, it's a faerie ring."

Valas gasped in a mix of horror and awe. "But the Fae were driven out—"

"Yes, but their creations remain," Theiden clarified, echoing the explanation that Lenesa had given him all those months ago.

"Surely it doesn't just work for anyone, though," Valas said. "Wouldn't you need a spell of some sort?"

Theiden sucked in a breath through his teeth. He had forgotten about that detail. Should he lie? "Yes, well, this second time, perhaps it recognized me from when Lenes—the witch had sent us through the first time. I don't know any spells but it just worked." The excuse sounded lame, even to his own ears.

"An interesting tale you've told," Declituer said, speaking for the first time since Theiden had begun his story. The dark, slow pace of his words made it difficult for Theiden to tell if the man had believed all of his story. "If there's a faerie ring leading up to the mountains, it'll be helpful to know for our next raid."

Theiden felt a chill go through him. "I don't know how to make it work," he protested. "It was sheer luck that I managed to use it that time, but I can't guarantee anything will happen if I try it again." In fact, he could guarantee pretty much the opposite.

But Decliteur didn't seem deterred. He merely shrugged and pulled something dangling from a leather strap on his belt. "Do you know what this is?" He held the object up to the light, where it gave a dull gleam.

"A crystal?" Valas asked before Theiden could answer. The baker leaned forward, squinting at it.

Decliteur nodded. "Exactly. We don't need witchcraft to make the ring work when we've got the Fae's own tools at our disposal." He gave the crystal a flick. "This will guarantee us access to any of their tricks. We can see right through their deception."

Theiden frowned, ignoring the uneasiness that settled in his stomach. "How?"

Decliteur slammed the crystal down on the table, and both Theiden and Valas jumped as thin black shadows shot like sparks from the object and wormed across the table before disappearing. Theiden noted that the pattern of the path they had taken had looked eerily similar to the black whorls he had seen covering Lenesa's skin.

Declituer's grin was full of dark amusement. "Do you know how the witches got their magic?" he asked.

Theiden shook his head.

"The Fae gave it to them," Decliteur answered. "Witches used to be as ordinary as you or I. But they were seduced by the siren-song of the forest and were granted magic as a reward for their wanton ways."

Decliteur's hand curled into a fist around the crystal on the table, and he continued. "With the Fae now gone, their magic can only be passed down through families. No ordinary person runs the risk of suddenly becoming a witch anymore. Which only leaves the remaining descendants of those original witches for us to deal with."

"How?" Now it was Valas's turn to ask. Theiden didn't like the way the other two witch hunters were grinning knowingly at them from across the table.

Decliteur leaned forward. "Whatever gives, can take away. This" he held up the crystal again, "can take away."

"I don't get it," Valas said, frowning.

"It's from the Fae," Callan smugly interjected from across the table.

"We use their magic against them," Theiden whispered.

Decliteur nodded and sat back, satisfied. "Exactly."

Theiden didn't have long to register just why this revelation had him feeling so sick to his stomach. The door to the inn burst open so suddenly that the common room fires flickered in their grates and all heads turned to find the source of the sudden disturbance. It had started raining outside again, and the figure that came in through the doorway dripped water along the floorboards as he made his way over to the witch hunters' table. It was only once the man had stopped and pulled his hood back that Theiden recognized the third witch hunter that Callan had sent off to warn the guards about Lenesa.

"Tareth," Callan greeted. "What's go'en into you? You're causin' a scene with an entrance like that."

Tareth's gaze darted nervously from person to person, before finally landing on Decliteur.

"I've got bad news," he said. "There's a monster loose in the city."    

~~~~~~~

Yayyyy I finally posted again.  Sorry for the delay.

A few things:

1.  Long chapter.  Either I'm sorry or you're welcome, whichever you prefer.  XD

2. I picked a very lazy way to rope Valas into this conversation, I know.  I was going to choose something a little more subtle, but I'm a little tired and that's what rewriting is for anyway.

3. I am not a fan of writing out accents, so Callan is going to be the only one with an accent in this.  I struggle to keep any accents consistent, and I've especially struggled to not make Callan go full Hagrid-speak here.  Let me know if anything he says is too incomprehensible.

4. Yes, I included bourbon, a distinctly American drink, in this story.  Why?  Because the Kentucky Derby is coming up and I just felt like adding in some Kentucky pride.  Anyone else looking forward to Derby Day?

5.  Answers!  Yay!  And more questions...maybe not so yay.  What monster has been unleashed?!?  What terrible havoc is being wreaked upon the city and its hapless citizens?  *runs away screaming*

Please let me know what you think, I love hearing--er, reading--your comments!