The knock came late at night.

The sound was swallowed by the wind, the angry lash of branches against walls and windows. A storm ravaged the earth. It flooded roads, unearthed trees, rolled boulders down steep hills. Even Beaufort Manor, sheltered as it was in an alcove in the mountain's body, rumbled and creaked under the storm's siege.

Valeri Beaufort rose from his seat. A reclusive being, he was not pleased with the sudden interruption of his nightly routine. He contemplated the fire, the rain drumming against the windows, and hoped he had heard wrong.

A second knock dashed his spirits. Valeri considered feigning ignorance to his visitor's plight, but curiosity swayed him toward benevolence. He strode into a dark foyer. The door flew back as soon as it was unlocked, urged open by the storm.

A cloaked figure stood just beyond the threshold. "Sir Valeri Beaufort?" the stranger asked, the voice decidedly female.

"Yes," Valeri answered.

"Pardon the intrusion," the woman said, "Are you still in need of a housekeeper?"

Rain turned to ice. Hail the size of bird hearts thundered over the mountain, pelting trees and naked stone. Valeri ushered the woman inside. The door fell shut behind her, cutting off the outside world. Valeri helped the woman shed her soaked cloak. Water dripped from its hems, plick-plocking against the floor.

"This way," he said, and led his guest to a spacious sitting room. He bid her sit while he busied himself with feeding the dying fire.

"I apologize for the trouble," the woman said.

"No need for apologies," Valeri told her. His curiosity had not abated in the least, and the promise of finally satisfying his need for house staff was worth any amount of trouble the woman thought herself capable of bringing.

Flames licked up the stone bed, painting the room in color. Valeri took a moment to study his companion. The woman's features were sharp and pronounced, as if cut from stone rather than flesh. She offered Valeri a polite smile that went no deeper than the shadows that flickered over her eyes.

"My name is Ira Hale," the woman said, at last remembering her manners. "I was passing through Elsendorf, and heard about an open position. I did not foresee the storm," she added with a self-depreciating smile.

"Did you travel on foot?" Valeri asked.

Ira shook her head. "Mule. The poor thing spooked halfway, and bolted."

Valeri feigned sympathy. "Where do you hail from, Miss Hale?"

"Please, call me Ira," the woman demurred. "I come from Sinith."

"Does Sinith lack for work?" Valeri asked.

Ira straightened in her seat. "It does not. I lack the desire to work there."

The sudden archness of her manner reminded Valeri of an affronted cat: paws flexing to reveal claws, eyes slanting in displeasure. He bit back a smile. "That is a long way to travel."

"The work I found along the way was always temporary, and I ended up drifting farther north than I intended," Ira said.

Valeri nodded. Harvest was well past, and with winter coming people were tightening the strings of their purses. Few would take a chance on a stranger. "I am still in need of a housekeeper," he began, holding up a hand to stave off Ira's words of gratitude. "I am afraid this position is also temporary. Five months at most."

"That is acceptable. What will the job entail?" Ira asked.

"Basic housekeeping. I employ several women as maids, but they do not live with me and are not reliable during the winter months. The snow falls deep this far up." Valeri trailed off. He thought of all he needed, all this woman would have to do, and almost dismissed Ira out of hand.

"Sir Beaufort?" Ira bid.

"My apologies. My mind tends to wander, a habit I am afraid grows more pronounced with the passing years," Valeri said.

"Forgive me, but you do not look that much older than me," Ira said.

Valeri's thin lips pulled into a smile. "And how old are you, Ira?"

"Twenty-two," the woman said.

Valeri ground his teeth, trapping a sharp grin before it could twist his face. "I am quite a bit older. In addition to your responsibilities in the manor, I would require your assistance in preparing for a wedding planned for this spring."

Ira's smile did not quite reach her eyes. "How nice. Whose wedding is it?"

"Mine, naturally." Valeri nodded in acknowledgement of the woman's words of congratulation. "The work may be difficult, but you will be compensated well. I will have the contract ready for you by morning, if you are still interested."

"I am," the woman said, and seemed in earnest.

Valeri stood and offered her a hand. Ira rose with him. Her fingers were chilled, but still warmer than Valeri's own. "Welcome home," he said.

Ira smiled, relief naked on her face. "Thank you."

"Would you be needing anything tonight, Miss Hale? A meal, perhaps?" Valeri asked.

"A bed," Ira replied. "Nothing else."

"Very well. Let me show you to your room."

Valeri led the way up a steep staircase, down a hallway whose walls seemed to press close in the dark. The room he sought sat closest to the landing. Valeri paused in front of the door, briefly overcome with doubt. The servants' quarters were downstairs, perfectly serviceable despite standing empty for a decade. Ira would be as comfortable there as she would in a guestroom a short distance from Valeri's own rooms.

"My apologies for the dust. The room has not been used for many years," Valeri said at last. He held out the lamp he carried to Ira, "Please, keep this."

Ira bowed her head. "Thank you, Sir Beaufort."

Valeri paused his steps once the door closed behind Ira. He cocked his head, listening. Floorboards creaked inside the bedroom. Old mattresses whined under the weight of a body. Valeri left when silence fell, his steps as soft and even as Ira's sleeping breaths.

The sitting room was warm and bright. Outside, rain hissed against stone and wood and earth. Valeri lingered in front of the fireplace, conflicted. He banked the flames with a regretful sigh.

The entrance to the kitchen was along the same hallway that led to the foyer. Valeri surveyed the room. He thought of what he would need to purchase; his knowledge of cooking was rudimentary at best. Still, he knew enough to ensure his housekeeper did not starve to death before the roads permitted travel to the market.

Beaufort Manor lacked a proper courtyard. The land sloped gently downward, curving to the edge of a stream that ringed the property. A dark forest rose on the other bank. Valeri stood in the doorway for a long moment. He cast his eyes over the horizon, as was his habit. Tree tops rose like jagged teeth against the sky. The world beyond Beaufort Manor hid behind them, unimportant and unwelcoming.

The stables rose against a backdrop of dark rock. The air inside was heavy, thick with the scent of straw and beast. A soft hiss greeted Valeri at the threshold.

"Good evening, Horus," the man said.

A shadow detached from the pointed ceiling. It landed on Valeri's shoulder with a soft caw. Large talons dug into his suit, followed by a sharp beak that busied itself with pulling at Valeri's hair.

"Not your chick," he told the great hawk grooming his head, an old argument between them.

Horus nipped at his ear in response. Valeri scritched the soft feathers under Horus' beak, then raised his arm. The hawk let out a piercing shriek. Its wings made no sound as it flew up toward the high ceiling, body melting out of sight between one breath and another.

Valeri strode forward. "Good evening, Zenith," he greeted.

Hoofs clacked against wood and straw. The shadows in one of the spacious stalls solidified into the large, powerful body of a black stallion. It regarded its master with burning red eyes.

"We are going out tonight," Valeri said. The beast whined in excitement. "Not to hunt," Valeri added, teeth bared in a savage grin. "Although if the occasion arises, there is no reason not to indulge."

Valeri saddled Zenith, then led the horse outside. He was not a small man, but the creature's massive body dwarfed him. Valeri patted a muscled flank and mounted. His blood thrilled with anticipation.

"Go," he called.

Zenith neighed. The sound rose over thunder and rain, a scream caught in the storm. The cry was answered by a distant howl. Valeri spared a moment's thought on its significance before the joy of the ride took over his mind. The night was crisp, the rain cold against his face. He grinned wide, wider still - threw his head back and roared, triumphant and free.

The ride was brisk and hard. Zenith maneuvered around trees, jumped over boulders and down steep inclines without hesitance or fear. Valeri kept his head low and his eyes on the road ahead. The forest blurred at the edges of his vision.

The woods broke suddenly. Dense vegetation gave way to flat, barren ground, and Zenith slowed his pace. A river twisted some distance away. Houses rose on the opposite bank. They grew more clustered further out, away from the mountain's shadows. Valeri threaded his fingers through Zenith's mane. The horse halted at the water's edge, allowing Valeri to dismount. Zenith whuffed, eager to follow.

Valeri shook his head. "You know you cannot cross, my friend."

Zenith let out a low grunt. The horse loped back toward the forest, his eyes last to vanish among the trees.

Valeri looked across the river. Rain hissed over roofs and rattled windows. Elsendorf slept, heedless of the storm and its dangers. The MacLean family store rose close to the banks. Its front door faced not the village, but the river and the mountain beyond. Valeri did not attempt the main entrance. He circled the house instead. His fingers left gouges in the walls, overlaying older tracks.

Valeri pulled himself up on a thin windowsill a story above the wet ground. The window was unlocked. He pried it open, paying no mind to the soft creak of rusted hinges. The click of a cocked gun stilled his ascend. Valeri's eyes burned red.

Between them rested the muzzle of a pistol.

"Hold it!" a woman snarled.

Valeri grinned. A breath later, the weapon clattered out of reach. Valeri bore his host onto the floor, pinning her hands and feet with his considerably heavier body. Wide green eyes stared up at him, sightless and terrified.

"I have told you before, Miss MacLean," Valeri said softly, "shoot first. Talk later."

The body in Valeri's grip relaxed. "It's you."

Valeri rose, freeing the woman from his weight. "Indeed. Although that ought not be a consolation."

"And you ought to use the front door, like the normal human being you pretend to be," Erika MacLean scowled.

Valeri offered Erika a hand, and was promptly batted away. "Did I wake you?" he asked.

"Do you care?" Erika shot back. She struggled with the lamp on her bedside. Light spilled into the room, illuminating Valeri's unapologetic smile. "What do you want? There's no way you ran out of parchment already."

"I have a guest," Valeri said.

"A guest," Erika repeated.

"Yes. I am afraid I am rather ill-equipped to meet her needs," he confessed.

Erika's expression darkened. She measured Valeri with a look he could not read and left the room, giving no indication whether she expected him to follow. Valeri thread down a familiar staircase. Some steps ahead, Erika pushed through a set of double doors and disappeared.

Valeri paused in the hallway just outside the storefront. A sound had caught his attention; the whisper of air inflating human lungs.

"Sir Beaufort," Erika called.

She stood in the doorway, having come back to fetch him. Soft light spilled into the hallway. It set the blonde of Erika's curls ablaze and lit her eyes a bright, emerald green. Her skin was too pale, her body too still under the thin cotton of her nightgown. A pretty, porcelain doll. Valeri's hands clenched at his sides. Borrowed blood surged to warm his skin.

Erika stepped aside and held the door for Valeri. Her foot tap-tapped against the floor, the rhythm unsteady and impatient. Valeri strode past with a nod of acknowledgement.

The MacLean family store was neither the largest, nor the best stocked in Elsendorf. Half a dozen lamps illuminated shelves, crates, bolts of thick cloth tucked away in a corner. The bare minimum of produce, and not too high a quality at that. Even so, the store had never failed to satisfy the needs of the Beaufort household.

"What do you want?" Erika asked after a pause.

"I am not certain. I would appreciate your help," Valeri told her honestly.

The woman sighed and thrust the lamp she was holding into Valeri's hands. "Follow me."

Erika moved around the dim store, picking out various items and placing them aside. Valeri trailed in her wake dutifully. A small hill of boxes and jars and thick-grained sacks soon came to occupy the middle of the room.

"That should do for now." Erika looked at Valeri, smile sharp. "I will bring the rest over when the roads clear."

Valeri raised his brows. He did not recognize half of what lay before him, and had serious doubts regarding needing more. As he could not tell which items were necessary and which were added as some sort of petty vengeance, he nodded in acceptance.

"No clothing?" he asked.

"None ready." Erika tipped her head toward the rolled bolts of cloth. "You're welcome to commission some to be made. Rita's going to need your housekeeper's measurements." The woman's tone retained a slight chill.

"Thank you. How is your father?" Valeri asked, with the most pleasant a tone he could muster under his own rising irritation.

"Better. The new medicine seems to be helping." Erika hesitated before adding, "Thank you. For your help."

Valeri inclined his head. He laid a handful of coins on the counter.

"That's too much," the woman protested.

"It is just enough," Valeri said.

Erika flushed, grateful and embarrassed at once. With her father indisposed and no other family to shoulder the cost of living, she often struggled to make ends meet come winter. Without Valeri's patronage, the small store would have long closed its doors.

"Let me get those ready for you." The woman produced a large, sturdy sack from behind the register. "How are you traveling back?"

"Horse," Valeri told her.

Erika handed Valeri a thick coil of ropes. Valeri had no intention of tying anything to Zenith. He accepted the gift nonetheless, unwilling to argue or explain. Sunrise was coming.

"Thank you," he said, shouldering the bulging sack.

Erika reached out and placed her hand over Valeri's arm. "Do you need anything else?" she asked hesitantly.

Valeri allowed himself a sharp grin, confident that Erika could not see his face in the dark. The woman's cheeks were red. She smelled of fear and excitement.

A rooster crowed in the distance.

Valeri broke away. "Good day, Miss MacLean."

The sun was rising. Light set the mountains in the east ablaze, thinning the comfortable darkness to hoary mist. Valeri leaped over the river and raced for the forest. Zenith greeted him with a low growl. As soon as Valeri had settled, the black stallion broke into a gallop. Trees and sky and earth melted into a blurred mess of color. Valeri clutched Zenith's mane before he forced his grip to loosen. Zenith was swifter than the sun.

They raced through the last vestiges of night, twin shadows in a world speckled with gold. Zenith halted before the stables as sunlight spilled over the mountain. Valeri dismounted in a rush and guided Zenith to his stall. His shoulders ached under the thick cloth of his suit as he made his way to the house, skin aflame with the first rays of morning.

Beaufort Manor was cool and dark. The windows were closed, their double armor of heavy drapes and thick shutters impenetrable. The sound of breathing, low and soft, was an oddity in the familiar space. Valeri paused, listening to Ira sleep. The memory of a woman's laughter echoed in his ears. He closed his eyes, and smiled.

"Welcome home, indeed."