When he came back in some time later his deathly pallor had been replaced by the faintest touch of color.

“You look much better,” said Corinne.

“I feel much better,” was his reply.

“Mind if I have a look at your injuries?” asked Corinne; curious to see how much they’d healed.

“Not at all. Just remember to look, not touch.” He stripped off his ruined shirt. The two wounds were noticeably less raw looking, and noticeably less deep.

“Amazing,” said Corinne, bending over to get a good look at the marks. She examined both the larger entrance wound on his torso and the smaller exit wound on his back near the base of his wings. His feathers were still stained with blood here and there. “You’ve healed so fast!”

“Yeah. I heal quickly now, at least after sunset. And except for things like this,” he added, holding out his hand. The mark of Branson’s holy symbol was still there. It was faint, almost completely healed, but since it had been made more than six months ago it ought to have healed long before.

Branson had remained silent through all this, but now he burst out with a new flood of ranting. “You see it, and yet you disbelieve me! His very nature is unholy, evil, that the symbol of goodness burns him like a hot coal! He is a child of hell! He bewitches you all with his act, but I see what you are all blind to!”

Corinne rounded on the fanatic, finally having had her fill. “That is more than enough! You attack a man who has done nothing to you, you endanger his pregnant wife and little girl, and now you sit here raving about evil! You’re the one who’s evil!”

“Surely you can see it healer? He cannot abide so much as your touch. Why are you so blinded?” His voice turned softer, more pleading.

“I’m not blinded, you are! Aidan can’t help what he is, but he’s doing the best he can. You… Oh, I’m mad enough to do something I’d regret later, you complete, utter…” she broke off, trying to calm down. “I’m going right now to get the watch. Can you two keep an eye on him for me?”

Aidan nodded, his eye on Branson, but his arm around Flame. Branson looked, if anything, even more terrified at the thought of being left alone with them, but Corinne had no sympathy for him whatsoever. She grabbed up her cloak and headed out the door, hoping that she would manage to work off some of her anger on the way to the watch station.

Aidan sat down in a chair on the far side of the room from Branson. He was physically pretty much recovered from his injury, his vampirism enabling him to heal very quickly one he’d replaced the blood he’d lost. Mentally however he was still shaking. He’d come this close to death only once before, and that was when he’d become a vampire, passing through death to come out changed on the other side. He was grateful when Flame pulled up another chair and sat next to him, threading her fingers through his. Littlespark climbed up on his lap and he put an arm around her, holding her close, taking comfort from her warm, living presence, a reaffirmation of life after an all-too-close brush with death.

Branson stayed in his corner, shooting the tired trio occasional glances that alternated between fear and hatred. For a while Littlespark made silly faces back, but Aidan gently chided her when Branson started to look angry rather than afraid. He didn’t want the man to work up the courage for another attack.

It wasn’t long before Corinne returned with a pair of uniformed watchmen. They handcuffed Branson and took him away. He immediately started protesting, trying to convince them that killing a creature of evil was no crime, but they weren’t having any of it. His continued protests, sounding rather forlorn and hopeless, faded away in the distance as the watchmen herded him down the street. Overhead the sky was lightening with the coming dawn. Aidan yawned, feeling utterly exhausted. It had been a long night.

“I guess we should head back to the inn,” he said tiredly.

“Stay here,” said Corinne suddenly. “I’ve got a spare room. And besides, if you go to the inn looking like that you’ll scare the life out of the innkeeper.”

Aidan looked down at himself. He was shirtless, and his trousers were completely covered in dried blood. There was blood matted in his feathers too, and some of it had even gotten into his hair. Flame Song’s attempt to clean him up hadn’t really made much of a difference. “Ugh,” he said, “What a mess.”

Flame Song suddenly laughed. “That’s an understatement,” she said, and Aidan and Corinne both found themselves laughing too, letting out the tension of the long night in a somewhat hysterical gale.

Eventually they calmed down enough for Aidan and Flame to accept Corinne’s offer. Aidan got himself cleaned up and Corinne lent him another pair of trousers, though both women started laughing again when he emerged wearing them, for they were so long on him he’d had to roll up the cuffs half a dozen times. He just made a face at them and declared his intention to go shopping as soon as possible to get a new pair along with a new shirt.

Corinne said she’d put Littlespark to bed in her daughter’s room and showed the tired couple to the spare room. Flame Song drew the curtains closed and lay down on the bed. Aidan lay down next to her, putting his arm around her and cupping one white-feathered wing over her. He tucked his head against the back of her neck, breathing in the scent of her, listening to the slow, steady beat of her heart. At last he was able to let go of the lingering fear and shakiness and completely relax. A moment later they were both sound asleep.