The boy perches on the edge of his chair as if he will take flight at any moment. The closed door that stands between him and the street is making him nervous, but the smells of cooking wafting from the kitchen are making his mouth water, so he stays. It’s been more than two years since he could count on regular meals.

“The stew needs to simmer a bit longer before it’ll be fit to eat lad, so while we wait, let’s have a little chat. I have to admit you’ve got my curiosity going. I’m very careful about my purse, but you came pretty close to getting it. Why are you so starved if you’re that good of a thief?”

The boy is reluctant to talk about his thieving, but the man doesn’t seem to be angry that the boy tried to take his money, so he ventures a cautious agreement. “I am a good thief, one of the best.”

“Then why aren’t you eating boy? Are you addicted to something, is that it?”

“No!” the boy’s answer is vehement. He remembers days that seem long ago, an almost forgotten time when he had parents and went to schools on another world. He learned then the folly of taking drugs. “I’m no druggie, but…” he hesitates to share the real reason for his hunger. Showing weakness isn’t safe on the streets, and yet he finds himself trusting against all experience. “I’m too small. You can’t live alone out there. You’d get killed while you slept. You need to have a good place, and other people so you can take turns watching. But I’m always the smallest one. So the gang I stay with, the big ones end up with most of what I take, no matter what I do. That’s why I started taking small stuff, like your purse, instead of going up the hill after the good stuff. I can spend a few coppers right off and get something to eat. But if I don’t steal enough good stuff they’ll throw me out. I’m not a good enough fighter to do anything about it, but I’m learning. And I am the best thief in Aerievale,” he adds, somewhat proudly.

“I don’t doubt that, lad. But where will that get you? When you’re my age, are you going to have anything? Or will you have been caught and executed by then? Now I’m not trying to lecture you lad, you can just ignore me if you like, but I’d appreciate it if you at least thought about that a little bit.”

The boy’s expression darkens. He doesn’t like the advice, maybe because it hits too close to home. He can’t help but think of the jailers who already know his name. How much longer before he gets caught by somebody who isn’t as nice as this man?

The old man asks another question. “You don’t talk like a street urchin, lad. And your accent isn’t from here. Have you had some education? Do you read and write?”

The boy grins. “I can more than read and write. I’ve probably read more books than you’ve ever seen. You’re right I’m not from here. I grew up on Earth. I had a very good education. I know using correct grammar makes me stand out a bit, but I just can’t bring myself to butcher the language like the street kids do.”

“Earth eh? Then you weren’t born an aerian. How’d you end up here?”

The boy sighs. “I used to dream about being able to fly. When I came to this world I thought my dreams had come true. I loved reading and I would spend hour after hour in fantasy books, reading about magical places. And then my family died. It seemed like everything was falling apart. So when I found a portal, I didn’t hesitate, I went through. I thought I’d get to live a great adventure, like the hero of a fantasy story. But this place isn’t like the stories. And I wasn’t a hero, just a kid with a talent for locks. I didn’t seem to fit in anywhere, so I decided to come here. Since I’m an Aerian now, I thought I’d fit in with other aerians. Maybe I do, but only with the criminals.” The boy is surprised at how easily the story pours out of him. He hasn’t talked about it with anyone else, but again he finds the old man easy to trust.

The old man smiles wryly. “When the bards tell the great tales of heroes, they always leave out the real story. You only hear the momentous struggle, the triumphant victory. You never get all the difficult, boring, real life parts that make the big ending possible. Mysteria is a real world and it’s got real world problems. Who knows, maybe your story will someday be one of those great stories. But they’ll skip over this part saying, ‘The hero had a humble beginning as a thief,’ and get right on to the more exciting bits. And nobody will ever say how you got beat up by some other thief who never amounted to anything, or how you got caught once by an old man.” The old man smiles, and the boy smiles back.

“So,” said Thomas, interrupting Aidan’s thoughts, “was the phony letter telling the truth about you being a part of the Clan?”

Aidan smiled, though he didn’t show his teeth. He knew the subject of his vampirism was bound to come up eventually, but he didn’t want to rush the moment. “Indeed it was, though that wasn’t exactly my idea when I first joined up. I got dragooned into it by a beautiful woman.”

Thomas laughed. “And what became of her then? Did she drag you in and then abandon you?”

“Far from it,” said Aidan. “She actually married me.”

“Congratulations!” said Thomas with a wide grin. “How long ago was the wedding, and why wasn’t I invited?”

“Er…” Aidan was a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry I didn’t invite you. It actually happened rather suddenly, and I just didn’t think of it. We’ve been married nine years now.”

“Nine years! Have you got any little ones ‘round the house then?” asked Thomas.

Aidan nodded, finding it hard not to grin like an idiot. “Yes indeed. A beautiful little girl and two twin boys.”

Thomas smiled broadly. “Congratulations again! I’m afraid I’ve got one more burning question for you though.” He raised his eyebrows quizzically, a habit he’d had back when Aidan had first known him. “You’ve been wed near a decade, you’ve a little family, it’s been fifteen years since I last saw you, and you must be over thirty by now. So why do you look just like you’re not even twenty?”

There was the question, out in the open and unavoidable. Aidan answered the easy part first. “Well, for starters, for me it’s been only ten years. Not long after the wedding I ended up back on Earth by accident, and time there sometimes runs differently than time here. My wife and I were there a year and a half, and when we returned we found it had been six years here. So there’s five years of your fifteen accounted for. As for the rest…” he sighed, not knowing exactly how to explain, and not really wanting to. Maybe Thomas would be able to accept his vampirism, but then again maybe not. At last he said, “It’s probably easier to show you than to tell you. Do you have a mirror handy?”

Puzzled but willing to go along with the strange request Thomas got up. He disappeared into his bedroom and emerged a moment later with a small hand mirror. “I don’t know what you want it for, but here it is. Will this do?”

“Sure,” said Aidan. “Just look at the couch in the mirror and you’ll see.”

Thomas returned to his chair and angled the mirror to show the couch where Aidan sat. His puzzlement deepened as he saw the reflection of the couch but couldn’t find Aidan in it. He adjusted the mirror a few more times, then glanced from it to where Aidan sat, clearly visible on the couch but completely invisible in the glass.

“You’ve a peculiar lack of reflection lad,” he said at last, “and I’m wondering if the reason for it is what I’m thinking it is.” He put down the mirror and looked at Aidan, waiting for confirmation.

Aidan looked at his folded hands. He didn’t want to see the rejection he feared to see in his friend’s face, but Thomas deserved to know. “Probably. I only know of one sort of person who doesn’t have a reflection.”

“Ah my poor lad. You’ve had a rough enough life without something like that being laid on you as well,” said Thomas, and his voice was as kind and as friendly as ever when he said it.