Page 9 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part Two

As his title suggests, Jeff was honored, revered, really, above all others of his kind. Because unlike all the others, he wastasked with the very unpleasant duty of tracking unfortunate elders and euthanizing them. He’d been thus engaged for almost longer than he could remember and was very good at his job. Perhaps the best ever.

The upside, if there was an upside, was that he wasn’t called often.

There was no remuneration, other than the singular esteem bestowed by other members of his species. Since he rarely came into contact with another of his species, that wasn’t worth much. Being admired from afar has little value.

Payment according to traditional understanding would be silly since any Lorcan could easily devise ways to collect material prizes of any size and value. Some Lorcans spent a portion of their long lives experimenting with the trappings of riches and/or accumulating collections. But all found it unsatisfying in the end and eventually settled on usefulness as a key to happiness.

Jeff had been wise enough from young adulthood to reach that conclusion without the bother of needing to divest stuff.

The Lorcan species hadn’t neared extinction because of war or inability to adapt to new circumstances. They simply didn’t have the drive to procreate that typically causes populations to thrive and flourish. As was the usual custom, his parents separated after coupling. Jeff’s father’s identity had been obscured by time and disinterest. He had faint memories of his mother, but Lorcans grew to adulthood in a matter of weeks and saw no reason to foster further relations.

Jeff’s parents could’ve chosen any form for procreative copulation, but he was conceived while they were humanoid. For that reason, among many others, Jeff had always been most comfortable with that appearance. He’d also noticed upon self-reflection, a pastime at which he excelled, that he had a curiousfondness for others who walked upright with two arms and two legs. Like attracts like, he supposed.

Content to be disguised as a simple, cheerful, fun-loving twenty-something with a simple, but necessary job. It was the perfect guise for an ancient hunter, gatherer of souls of his own kind. There was nothing threatening about Jeff. Not to the human tourists who stopped by the pub for local fare and flavor, and not to the non-human residents of the village whose claim to fame was residency of the fae court Magistrate. When the local vampire had asked him to help prank the current magistrate, he hadn’t hesitated to agree. He was regarded fondly by his neighbors, and he knew it. When he’d established himself as Molly’s indispensable employee, he hadn’t planned on becoming fond of them in return. It was an accident he usually considered happy.

He knew more goings on in Hallow Hill than anyone. Even Esme. Pub regulars were so accustomed to his presence, having him nearby as he delivered British country delicacies and drink which were sometimes sustenance and sometimes pleasure, that he’d become more fixture than individual. In fact, patrons were so used to him that they forgot to quiet when he was close enough to hear what was being said. He might as well have been the proverbial fly on the wall.

Few people had seen him step outside his perfectly crafted cover. Rita had when he lost patience with her regarding the werewolf encounter. That was partially because it caused concern for her judgment and partially because, like just about everybody, hereallydidn’t like werewolves. They were nasty bastards, at best, with their long hair, probably lice-infested, and weird dances.

“What?” Jeff had been lost in thought when he realized Esme was speaking.

“Do you have any fondness for the magistrate?”

Jeff wasn’t sure how to answer that. He didn’t think in terms of being fond of this or that person. After considering how to answer, he finally settled on, “I like her well enough.”

Esme’s smirk told Jeff he hadn’t fooled anybody. He liked her more than he admitted to himself. The human had infected the whole village with her warm heart and open nature.

“In that case, will you consider lending your expertise to resolving this situation? Needless to say, the entire magic world depends on regularly scheduled court dates.”

Jeff was familiar with sentences that begin with “the entire world depends on you”. He’d heard that pitch before. With a sigh, he said, “No promises until I visit the magistrate and see if there’s something I might contribute.”

Esme lowered her eyes and bowed her head slightly. “Thanks, Jeff. You are perhaps the only one…”

He didn’t care to hear the rest of that thought. “Stop selling. I already said yes.”

When she looked up, what Esme saw starting back at her were the pale eyes of a very old hunter who’d dealt with more than his share of pain. The contrast with Jeff, the good-natured youth who made the pub hum and this ancient assassin was so stark it caused her to catch her breath for a second.

She gathered herself, knowing she couldn’t understand Jeff no matter how hard she might try or how much she might pry. So, she nodded and stood to go.

“The scones are excellent. I’ve never tried the marmalade before. I’m a predictable devotee of blueberry. Mind if I take the rest of mine with me?”

He looked down at the service on the table between them. “Take mine too if you wish. I’ll be over to the judge’s place by the by.”

Esme knew he would come as soon as possible even though the promise sounded lethargic.

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