A commotion was brewing outside and the sound of indistinct shouting roused Clair from her sleep. Her eyes were bleary and her skin tingled. She looked around the room and noticed that next to her was Vance, they were sleeping on top of the covers she was under. They weren't sleeping in the cold, someone had brought in another blanket and draped it over them. She reasoned it had been Marcus, though the fabric was unusually light despite its looks.

Clair gently nudged the sleeping child. "Hey little one, time to get up."

Vance murmured softly and opened their eyes. "Da told me to watch you, make sure you're okay."

"Did he? And where is your Da now?" She asked.

Vance adjusted themself and sat up. "Across the hall, I told him to get some rest." They yawned. "Your lips aren't blue anymore, Miss."

Blue? That would have meant frostbite, but she had sensation in them. "Vance, do they look normal?"

"Yeah, they do." Vance smiled up at her. 

The shouting outside had grown louder. "Hey, I should probably see what's going on. You stay up here, okay?" 

They nodded.

Clair mussed Vance's hair and climbed out of bed. She was still dressed in what she'd worn out the previous night so she quickly left the room and headed downstairs. The door out was just barely open and the tavern keeper was peering out into the village.

"Hey, excuse me." Clair placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

He nearly jumped out of his skin and turned to her. "Gods, don't sneak up on– oh, it's you." The older gentleman calmed himself before speaking, "folks think they've cornered the thing that came in here last night and took Heward." 

Clair's eyes went to the deep gouges in the door frame from the creature's claws. "They'll be killed, let me through."

"B-but Miss–"

With a quick motion Clair bodily moved the tavernkeep. "Stay here," she said as she walked out the door. 

The morning was overcast and left the entirety or Imerre looking grey. Across the street was a mob of people all carrying various weapons, from actual spears to woodcutting implements and farming tools. Another figure stood taller than the villagers by a notable amount, the lower half of their face covered by a blackened metal mask. Their red eyes burned under a mess of dark hair and a heavy woolen cowl.  

"Monster!" Shouted a villager holding a spear.

The lone figure with red eyes exhaled. "Yes?" She asked in a tired voice that sounded like sandpaper. 

Clair pushed her way through the crowd.

The man with the spear leveled it at the lone woman. 

She reached out her mechanical right arm and grabbed it by the haft. "I really wouldn't do that."

"Let go!" The man tried to pull the weapon from her grasp, the spear didn't budge.

She crushed the wood of the haft between her fingers. "What did you think was going to happen?" The spearhead fell into the snow. "I'm not the monster you're looking for."

Someone near the front shouted, "she admits it!"

"No, you yokels! Did you not hear me?" She sighed and shifted into a lower stance. "I'd really prefer not to fight."

Clair, having pressed and squeezed through what she swore was most of the village's population stumbled out between the woman and the townsfolk. 

The lone woman returned to a neutral stance. "Who are you, little girl?" She extended her mechanical arm, palm up. "I'm Harlowe."

She felt a blush bloom on her cheeks. Why? She tried to speak but only a small sound came out.

"Speak up." 

Another villager charged forward and swung an axe. Harlowe grabbed it mid-stroke and yanked the weapon to her side. The man went with it and fell into the snow only for her to place a foot on his back. 

She looked back over to Clair who was still flustered. "You have got to be kidding me." She removed her foot from the man's back, leaned down and picked him up by the shirt. "Leave and take the rest of your little mob with you. I'm not who you're looking for and I really, really don't want to hurt you people." As gently as she could, she placed the man down.

He ran back to the crowd of villagers who held their weapons in shaking hands. 

Clair swallowed hard. Just have to focus on the situation, don't think about the… other stuff. This woman, Harlowe, clearly wasn't the ghoul that attacked the previous night. Her patience has to be running out and with her... hands, she could easily kill the villagers. She looked back to the frightened faces of the townsfolk.

Clair stood but straight and looked to the crowd, putting herself between Harlowe and them. "I was there last night. I chased the ghoul out into the forest." She glanced back to Harlowe. "This is clearly not who attacked the Folly last night."

"Still a monster!" Shouted someone from within the mob.

"She has said, repeatedly, that she doesn't want to hurt any of you." Clair knelt down and picked up the spearhead. "If she did this while trying not to harm anyone, imagine if she wanted to."

"That just makes it more dangerous," said a woman near the front, holding a frying pan.

Harlowe stepped forward, causing the crowd to pull back. "I am not an it." Thin glass claws slid out of her artificial fingers.

The air was tense, as if it would come to blows at any moment before the voice of Elder Gerd echoed throughout the area, "cease this foolishness at once." Snow slid off nearby roofs. "All of you, disperse now."

Slowly, the gathered townspeople left in small groups or alone. Many of them muttered under their breath as they left, but eventually only Clair, Harlowe and the Elder remained. 

Harlowe looked over to the old woman. "Thank you for calling off the mob." Her gaze travelled to Clair. "Thanks for trying." 

Clair felt her cheeks burn. Why am I feeling this way? She swallowed hard trying to compose herself. It didn’t work at all, especially as Harlowe briefly put a hand on her shoulder as she walked past her and over to the Elder. 

Elder Gerd leaned heavily on her cane. “I trust that your appearance to the villagers is far different than what my eyes see.” 

“What?” Harlowe looked into the Elder’s clouded eyes. “Ah, some sort of magical sight?” 

“Astute. Now, we should get inside before any of the villagers decide to make fools of themselves again.” Gerd turned away. As she walked the snow seemed to part for her. “Faithful of Isette, you are coming too.” 

Clair blinked and nodded before following after the other two.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The trio entered the Elder’s home, Harlowe having to duck under the doorframe. It was much as it was the day before when Clair and Erich had cleaned it up following the spellwork that Rene had done there. While Clair and the Elder took seatsia couple of the chairs, Harlowe stood. 

“So Miss, what brings you to Imerre?” asked the Elder. 

Clair watched as their guest stood motionless and didn’t even seem to breathe. “I’m hunting,” said Harlowe in a flat tone. 

Having managed to mostly clear her head from earlier, Clair had a chance to really assess Harlowe. The woman was very clearly capable and quite strong. Her mechanical parts were a mystery to Clair, she had seen some prosthetics used before in her travels, but never ones that had such strength. Then there was the way that she...

Harlowe’s eyes caught Clair’s. “You’re wondering why I’d hunt my own kind, right?” She straightened her back, rising over a foot in height. “Why a monster like me would ever do good for anyone?”

“N-no, I wasn’t…”

Gerd stood up and tapped her cane on the wooden floor. “Stop. Now.” The old woman tottered over to Harlowe. “She was standing up for you only a short while ago.” 

Harlowe grit her teeth, some of the fangs sinking into her gums. “You’re right. I just,” she swallowed the thick blood that was leaking from her gums. “It’s been hard,” she slumped. 

“I understand, now please. Tell us why you’ve come here to Imerre.” Gerd return to and collapsed back down into her chair, the strength she’d shown earlier drained from her.

Clair and Harlowe both spoke at once. “Are you okay?” 

The Elder nodded and the other two turned to look at each other, ice blue eyes meeting flickering red. Harlowe was secretly thankful her mask covered most of her face as she noticed a blush build, something she hadn’t experienced in nearly a decade. She also took note of Clair’s cheeks turn a vibrant crimson, she had been right about the little lady earlier. It was just not something she expected to feel in turn. The curse had taken most of her emotional range, or so she had thought. 

Harlowe cleared her throat. “As you’ve assumed by now thanks to my outburst earlier, I am indeed here to hunt the pack of ghouls your little town is infested with.” Steering the conversation away from any resurgent feelings seemed like a good idea to her. “I imagine you,” she looked at Clair, “are also looking to exterminate their filth?” 

Clair was having a harder time cooling her passions and had to actively grab onto her pendant. “Yes, I…” Her feelings welled up again, threatening to reduce her to a blushing mess again. “I was here over a decade ago when the village had a similar problem. I fixed it back then as well.” 

The half-ghoul raised a brow. “You had to be what, in your teens when you fought a whole pack?” 

“She’s forty-three,” stated Gerd from her chair, the power from earlier gone from her voice. 

“You’re shitting me.” Harlowe raised a hand, palm up towards the Elder.

A woman with deep red hair walked into the room from further in the house. She wore a simple black robe that was tied at her waist. “Yeah, she had a bit of a run in with her goddess when she died a few days ago.” Rene cracked her neck and yawned. “It’s not too hard for someone like you to believe, right?” She smirked, her golden eyes glittering. 

Her teeth sunk deep into her gums again. “Guess so, just not particularly fond of gods. Never really did anything for…” Harlowe tossed off her cloak, “all of this.” To her surprise, no one in the room recoiled. “None of you are repulsed by me?” 

Rene rolled her eyes. “Seen worse back in the Esaran purges.” The edge of her mouth twitched towards a frown. “Err, sorry. Didn’t mean to try and downplay your situation.”

Clair stared at Harlowe, not just the mechanical limbs or the claws, but other parts. The curve of her neckline as it flowed into the iron mask she wore. How her long dark hair fell over her shoulders. The cinching of her waist and the look of her bust just barely visible under the loose, bloodied shirt she wore. Wait, bloody? She stood up and pulled in ambient magic. Arcs of faint blue crackled between the fingers of her right hand. 

Harlowe pulled away like a frightened animal. “Stay back, I’m fine.” Her glass claws slid out of her fingers. 

“You’re injured, I-” Her body locked up.

Rene sighed. “Clair, by now you need to know you can’t just go doing that.” Floating runes and circles turned slowly in front of her outstretched hand. "You okay, uh what's your name?"

She straightened herself back up and slid her claws back in. "Harlowe, I'm Harlowe." She closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. "Holy magic doesn't play nice with my condition, thanks for the assist…"

"Rene. What exactly is your condition? Oh-" she closed her hand and lowered it, "should be able to move again Clair." 

Clair practically fell forward, then righted herself. "Sorry. Guess I need to be a little more mindful." 

Harlowe looked over to her. "You're fine, most people would probably welcome your efforts." She laughed, her voice hitching slightly. "I would have too if it wasn't for my condition."

"Which is?" Asked Rene, rolling her hand at the wrist. 

"It's a ghoul curse, caught it years ago now." She shrugged. "Oh, did you mean the artifice?"

She shook her head.  "No, not the prosthetics. About the curse, you didn't have it removed?"

"Were it only so simple." She began counting on her left hand. "I went to my local church, a larger temple, alchemists, druids and more. None of them could remove it and eventually I got used to it." Harlowe flexed her claw. "Yeah, I got used to it."

Clair fixed her eyes on the mechanical parts of Harlowe's body. "Did you lose those limbs in battle?" Her brows knit together in concern.

Harlowe didn't reply.

The Elder had fallen asleep in her chair.

Rene looked to Clair then over to Harlowe. The woman's eyes had dimmed, the light behind her pupils flickering. Beneath her mask, her lips were drawn into a thin line. Her memories of the day she was attacked  flooded back to her. Finding the ghoul digging up a grave, the two fighting, the injury. Black ichor falling into her wound. The vice, the knife, the pliers. 

"No," said Harlowe flatly.

Clair wanted to know, but she'd already made an ass of herself today. Thoughts of what it could have meant swirled in her mind. None of the possible answers seemed like something that Harlowe would want to talk about, especially with her. 

Rene stepped forward. "Harlowe, I'm sure that someone has checked this already, but may I check your morphic resonance?"

"My what?" She raised a brow.

"It's like what your body's default shape is," said Clair.

"Pretty much, I mean, it's much more complex than that, but that is the jist of it." Rene paused. "You don't have to let me do this, you can say no."

"I'm aware." Harlowe hunched back down to regular human height. "So what do you need me to do?"

"Just stay still and let me touch your torso." Rene walked over to her.

"Alright, but you try anything funny and I rip you in half," stated Harlowe. 

Rene didn't break her stride at all when hearing the threat. "That's fair." She pressed her hand against Harlowe's collarbone. "This is…" quivering, she stepped away.

Clair ran up to her. "Rene?"

Harlowe raised a brow. "She alright?" 

"I'm fine." She took in a deep breath and exhaled through grit teeth. "Yeah, I'm fine." Rene shook her head. "How are you still able to even speak?" 

"With my mouth?" Harlowe replied as she blinked.

Rene held up a hand. "No, I mean. Your essence, it's-" she shivered. "Your essence is in tatters. The curse is threaded through it, having ripped away pieces with its barbed aspect." Her golden eyes were wide. "How in all the hells haven't you lost your mind?"

"Not really sure, if I'm being honest." Harlowe shrugged. "Just lucky I guess."

No one said anything for a while. Clair held onto Rene's shoulder, trying to reassure her. The Elder snored. 

"Well, this has gotten awkward." Harlowe cracked her back. "Think I'd have preferred the mob from earlier." She tapped the floor with a foot. "Could have just ran away from that." With her left hand she scratched at her mask. "Okay, conversation. I can do this. Clair, you wanted to see my wound, yeah?"

Clair nodded slowly. "I wanted to heal it."

Harlowe lifted her shirt and cut the bandages away, they fell to the ground with a wet plop. Beneath was a half healed wound, strips of skin that clung to torn muscle. 

"See, I'm fine." She lowered her shirt. "It'll be fully healed in a day or so." She laughed. "Should have seen it last night, had to hold my intestines in myself." She looked to Clair and Rene's concerned expressions. "What?"

Rene shook off her shock. "It's horrifying, but really quite impressive."

"How did it happen?" Asked Clair.

Harlowe raised her left claw. "One of these. I got foolish, wasn't careful." She growled. "If I had just kept my cool I could have had a proper meal."

"I've read about that, curse makes you want carrion a-" Rene bit her tongue. "Sorry, shouldn't bring that up."

Harlowe waved her claw. "It's fine. What I think we should actually talk about is your ghoul problem." 

Clair swallowed. "Yes, probably should shift focus."

"Do you know where the nest is?" Asked Harlowe.

Rene and Clair replied at once, "the Elder does."

"Alright and how many?"

"According to Marcus and the brief scrying Gerd and I did, at least five," replied Clair.

"I'd like to help you." Harlowe extended her artificial arm.

Clair took it into her own hand. "I'll take all the help I can get." They shook on it. "So, where do we start?"

Harlowe began to speak, "well…"