Belladonna

restore balance to this piece of the world. And when the next one like me comes to Raven's Hill, be careful what you name her. A Landscaper keeps her pieces of the world in balance. It is what we do and what we are. If you can accept her, the two of you can build something good here."
    "How do you ..." His face flushed.
    "The heart has no secrets. Not from me." Not usually. Rising up on her toes, she kissed his cheek, then stepped back. "May your heart travel lightly."
    She saw the other men approaching, some grim-faced, some concerned. Nathan heard them and looked back as he raised a hand in greeting.
    They trusted him. Good. And there were enough of them to stand witness for each other. Even better.
    She gave the men one long look that had them hesitating, then turned and took that step between here and there — and vanished right before their eyes.

Chapter Twenty-five
    W hen It reached Kendall, It slipped into the seaport quickly and moved away from the docks and the delicious stew of hopes and fears — and the hearts that held a guttering Light that could be snuffed out so easily. The docks, and the streets surrounding them, belonged to the male Enemy who had been strong enough to escape being pulled into Its dark landscapes. It did not want to alert that male to Its presence, especially since It still chewed on the kernel of worry that the Enemy had found the True Enemy and had united with her against It.
    So It headed away from the docks, flowed beneath the streets that belonged to the merchants and bakers and carpenters who were too stolid to be interesting prey until the mallet of fear had softened them and...
    It turned back, intrigued by the fear pulsing from a round little man hurrying down the street, glancing over his shoulder, jumping at every noise.
    It followed, lapping up the man's fear, slipping into his mind to learn the shape of the phantoms that rubbed away the satisfaction of owning a thriving business.
    * * *
    He hurried down the street, knowing it was smarter — safer — to walk as if he were simply heading home at the end of the workday. He didn't dress in a way that shouted "prosperity" — except when his wife made him — so he looked like an employee rather man the owner of a successful business.
    But business had been good, very good. Which was why he was so late closing up the shop, why he hadn't been heading home with all other merchants who had shops on Ware Street, why his footsteps were the only...
    Another footfall. A scrape of boots on cobblestone. Something sly about the sound.
    He didn't dare look around, didn't want to alert whoever was behind him that he was aware of the danger. Thieves lurked in the alleyways, waiting to strip honest men of their wages. Nervous about leaving all the day's till in the shop's safe, especially since someone had tried to break into Wagerson's shop the week before, he was carrying a thieves' bounty home with him to tuck into the house safe.
    Now someone followed him, intent on robbing him. Maybe would even hit him over the head and leave him bleeding in the gutter, alone and helpless until the constables made their rounds and noticed His wife scoffed when he mentioned such things, telling him fear was the only thief that visited, robbing him of his peace of mind. Then she would suggest he take a cab home if he worried about walking the streets after dark, especially on the nights when he carried a packet to put in the home safe. As if he would squander good coin for a horse and driver, except in foul weather, when only a few blocks separated shop and home.
    But ... Those footfalls. Those sly steps following him. Were they getting closer? Should he run? Only two more blocks and he would be home, safe behind his doors and locks.
    Where were the constables? Shouldn't they be walking their beat? Why was he paying all those taxes for their wages if they weren't around to stop an honest man from being beaten and robbed?
    And it did happen, despite what his wife said. It didn't matter that he didn't know anyone personally who had been robbed.
    He didn't want to be the first of his acquaintance to have the experience.
    But he might be the first. Maybe even tonight.
    His heart pounded. His breath came in pants as he rounded the corner and saw the welcoming lights of his home — and the lights in the houses of his neighbors, who would all come to the rescue of one of their fellows because, like him, they were all good, hard-working, honest