The Dark Sire Issue 1 (Fall 2019) | Page 103

the thick oaken door that was the entrance to my shop. The moon was barely out, yet the streets seemed unusually bright all the same. Every detail in the stones of the road and in the carriages and people who passed me was exquisitely clear. Even the smallest elements of the avenue seemed to hold resounding depth. Enjoying the wonders of the night on my walk home, I did not over-think the clarity of it. I wish now that I had, or at least had Benjamin walk home with me, rather than sending him on his way. Turning the corner onto Seventeenth Street from Arch Street, I felt a presence behind me. I thought it merely one of the night folk, scurrying about on some meaningless errand; until a hand fell upon my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. “Pardon me, miss,” said a soft, melodious voice directly behind me. “I do not wish to detain you, but could you perhaps direct me to the nearest pub?” I turned to see the man who had paused my travels. As I looked up into his eyes, my breath caught in my throat; for although the night was bright and the clarity of it should have allowed me to see him clearly, his face was obscured in shadow. I could make out nothing more than the angular ridge of his nose and the sharp curve of his jaw. Retaining my courtesy, though unusually frightened, I replied, “Why yes, my good sir, it is just up this road. Make a right onto the second lane you come to. It will be on your right, not far down the way.” He bowed graciously to me, “Thank you, milady. You have been most helpful this evening. Perhaps I may repay your favor.” “There is no need, only helping a thirsty gentleman to find what he seeks.” I told him, knowing that for some reason this was a man I did not wish to meet again. Ever. 101