He left the shop a few minutes later, whistling cheerfully. He tossed a plain golden ring into the air and caught it again. Then he put it into his pocket and went in search of Flame Song. He yawned and looked at the sun. It was still a couple of hours before sunset. Ahead he heard some kind of commotion. Snowcap was usually a quiet town and Aidan wondered what could be going on. He hurried forward, his curiosity aroused. He came around a corner and into an open square. It was where the farmer’s market was held on market days, but today it was filled with a crowd of people. At the far end of the square a man stood on a raised platform and harangued the crowd. It took a while for Aidan to figure out what he was going off about, but he gradually realized that the man was some kind of preacher.

Aidan turned to a man standing next to him on the fringe of the crowd and asked, “Who’s that?”

The man answered, “Branson Alder,” replied the man. “He’s the head of some new clerical order. He hasn’t really gotten a big following, but he’s an interesting speaker, and a lot of people listen to his sermons.”

“What god does he follow?”

“That’s the strange thing. I know he's sworn to one of the gods, but he says he preaches on behalf of the universal goodness, and that the specific god you follow doesn’t matter, only your righteousness. It’s kind of radical, but none of the established clerical orders seem to be worried about him, they just let him preach.”

“Probably very wise of them. There’s nothing like persecution to get a new religion going,” said Aidan, thinking of the world religions class he’d taken once when he’d lived on Earth. He listened for a few minutes more, but he didn’t find anything to interest him in the sermon. He agreed in general with the idea of striving for personal righteousness, but found Branson’s rather abrasive delivery style reminiscent of Bible-thumpers back on Earth and not much to his liking. There was too much focus on damnation and sins to be avoided, and not enough talking about the good things you ought to be doing. With a mental shrug he turned and circled around the crowd, keeping his eyes peeled for his wife and daughter.

He found them half an hour later pretty much where he’d expected them to be, in a store that sold children’s clothing. Flame Song had coaxed Littlespark to shift into human form and was trying outfits on her. Since clothing designed with aerian wings in mind was hard to find this far from Aerievale, Flame was trying to get Littlespark used to human form. She’d first shape-shifted about six months earlier while their little family was at a friend’s wedding. She’d gone to play with some of the other children, and had spontaneously imitated the other more human children by taking human form herself.

“Hi Aidan! What do you think?” She gestured to Littlespark who was wearing a dress in soft pastel colors that set off her fair skin and white hair quite nicely.

“Cute beyond all reason,” said Aidan with a grin.

Flame chuckled. “That what I was thinking. I’ll take this one,” she said to the shopkeeper.

The man smiled saying, “Excellent choice. Would you like me to wrap it up, or would the young lady like to wear it out?”

Littlespark hugged her arms around herself and said, “I want to wear it!” Then she spun around and added, “I’m pretty!”

Aidan laughed. “You’re the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen.”

Flame gave the shopkeeper a wry smile and said, “I guess she’ll be wearing it.” She paid for the dress and the trio set out, headed for the inn so Flame and Littlespark could get some dinner. Aidan would take care of that for himself later on that evening. As they made their way down a cobblestone street a man came hurrying around a corner and collided with Aidan. Aidan raised his hands instinctively to ward off the impact. “Ow!” he exclaimed as the man crashed into him. The brief contact was far more painful than such a collision ought to be. His hand felt like it had been burned! He recoiled from the man, and suddenly recognized him. It was the preacher, Branson, which explained the painfulness of the brief contact.

Despite the fact that Aidan remained an essentially good person, he was very vulnerable to holy power. Something about clerical power didn't mesh at all with his vampiric nature, and physical contact with a cleric was always at least slightly painful for him. He looked at his hand, and found that Branson’s holy symbol, which consisted of two circles, one inside the other, with a diagonal line dividing them both in half, had actually burned a matching mark into his palm.

Branson, meanwhile, had likewise recoiled from Aidan, and was now glaring at him with an expression of mingled hate and fear. “Demon!” he shouted. “Back, creature of the abyss!”

“What?” said Flame Song, staring incredulously at the preacher.

Branson snatched his holy symbol off of his neck and brandished it at Aidan. Aidan stepped back, wanting to avoid further painful contact. “Whoa, I’m no demon,” he protested.

“You’re a child of darkness, a son of evil! Stay back!”

“Okay, okay, I’m staying back,” said Aidan, and backed off further. Branson suddenly turned and ran the other way down the street, leaving the stunned family staring after him.

“What was that all about?” asked Flame.

Aidan shook his head. “That guy’s the head of a radical clerical order. As far as I can tell he’s also a bit of a fanatic. I heard him preaching earlier today.”

“Are you all right?”

“I think I will be.” Aidan looked at his hand again. The burn on his palm was still very visible, but the pain was already starting to fade.

“Daddy,” piped up Littlespark, “why was that man mad at you?”

Aidan looked down at his daughter, trying to think of a way to explain things. He was a bit surprised at the question. Littlespark was a quiet child, she usually didn’t say much. That was the longest sentence he’d ever heard her use. “He though I was something that I’m not,” he said at last.

“Why?” she asked.

Aidan picked her up. “Maybe because I’m different from other people,” he said.

“Am I different too?”

Aidan exchanged glances with Flame. That was one thing they had both worried about, that their half-breed daughter would indeed be different, too different to be accepted by most people. “You are different, but not the same way as I am,” said Aidan, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Will people get all mad at me too?”

Aidan smiled at her, hoping he was telling the truth when he replied, “No love, they won’t. You’re not like me, and besides, you’re too cute. How could anybody get mad at someone as cute as you?”

“That man shouldn’t have been so mad at you,” concluded Littlespark.

“No, he shouldn’t have,” said Aidan, again surprised by how articulate she was being.

They made it back to the inn without any further incident and Flame and Littlespark got their dinner. The sun had set and the village was going to sleep. Aidan, on the other hand, was feeling very much awake. “I think I’ll go hunting,” he said to Flame Song when she’d finished eating. “Do you mind taking care of Littlespark by yourself for a bit?”

“No, go ahead,” she said with a smile. Aidan left the inn and went out into the night. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath of cool night air. Maybe he didn’t need to breathe anymore, but sometimes he sill liked the feel of fresh air filling his lungs. He launched himself into the air and beat his wings hard, struggling for altitude in the complete lack of an updraft. It wasn’t long before he was high enough that the village below looked like it was made of toy houses, an the few tiny people still out at this hour were like ants. The aurora borealis was playing across the sky, and he flew below its shimmering cold fire, suspended between heaven and earth, reveling in the freedom of the air.