Blood of a Huntsman: After Darkness Falls Book Two

by Sage, May

Though he was also twenty-one, Jack had already earned all seven stars any huntsman could get, tattooed on his skin with spells and ink. Endurance, courage, knowledge, loyalty, power, empathy, and the elusive one few huntsmen ever achieved: magic.

  Bash only had two. Endurance and empathy.

  Given his prowess and current position as one of the minds running the London headquarters, Jack could, and usually did, choose to go on solo missions. When he wanted a partner, he usually chose his cousin, Tris—though Jack called her Blade to get on her nerves.

  But Jack had requested both Blade and Bash today. For the very first time, he'd asked for extra backup.

  Bash didn't need to wonder why. He'd seen the details of Jack’s plan; without someone securing an escape route, it was nothing short of a suicide mission. Any other agent would have called a dozen guys for help, but Jack was just that good. Blade would accompany him into the belly of the beast while Bash secured the exit.

  A vampire was picking up drunk girls outside of clubs in the middle of the night, and they were never seen again. Jack's preliminary investigation had located him in a den he intended to raid.

  Most vampires were loners, scattered anywhere around the world, but some lived in respectable, established clans, like the old families who'd remained in their lands longer than any mortal king.

  Other covens were formed much more recently. Out of loneliness, or worse. Power lust. Blood lust. Lust for something else entirely.

  These were the vampires who kept the huntsmen busy. Usually, their order hunted down wild shifters gone rogue or black witches sacrificing to increase their strength. They had few dealings with immortals.

  Bash considered himself lucky to be picked. He could guess why. While he had learned to use a sword and mace, and could take most huntsmen in a fistfight, his main strength, his best skill, was his eye. He could nail a target fifty yards away with a handgun. Half a mile away with a rifle, in any wind. Against vampires, guns were little use, but arrows dipped in spells and curses could work well enough. For a time.

  They wanted him on the roof opposite the Elephant and Castle den to ensure they were covered when they got out.

  And so, he watched them sneak in through a ground floor window, and then he waited, bow at hand, for at least an hour.

  Jack came out of the building first, slowly. He didn't look concerned. No one was following, other than Tris.

  After observing for a good three minutes and seeing no movement, Bash joined them in the street, jumping down from the four-story townhouse holding on to gutters and balconies.

  "Well?" he asked.

  Jack didn’t answer.

  "There were corpses,” Blade told him. “Piled up in a room, dumped there, stinking up the whole house. Two dozen, at least. It was fucking disgusting."

  Bash gasped. "Who was responsible for that?"

  "All of them," said Jack, after a while. "We made them talk. They took turns bringing in women, betting on who could seduce the prettiest one every week. Then they took them, one after the next, spelling them so they couldn't say a word. And after they were done, they drained them too."

  Bash had felt sick.

  He never asked what had happened to the den, to the twenty-three vampires reported to live there. He never asked about the bites to Blade and Jack, either. Over their dark huntsmen gear, he could only see a couple of bites, but who knew what was hidden beneath the leather and reinforced fabric.

  The two young huntsmen had eradicated the entire den.

  Before then, Jack had been fair to all races, friendly and diplomatic. But after, there was always an edge to his smile, a shadow behind his gaze when he talked or interacted with vampires.

  Two years ago, the man who'd officially taken over for Bash's parents as head of the London headquarters retired. The next logical successor was Jack, who'd led most of their raids for eight years. But some stupid laws said that their leaders had to be professors. Something to do with appearances. As far as humans were concerned, they were a guild of wise, knowledgeable ancients protecting their world. Having a young man representing them was bad. But the High Guard named him leader all the same, demanding only one concession: that he earn a PhD. A suitable title to present to doubtful mortals.

  So Jack went to the Institute, and Bash, along with dozens of huntsmen, did what they did best.

  They followed their commander.

  People who didn’t know Jack often thought that his appointment was nepotism, but the young agent had genuinely earned the British huntsmen’s respect. The thought of disappointing him was unbearable. Bash didn’t want to see the look in Jack’s eyes when he saw him, his best friend, now a bloodthirsty freak.

  Seeing what vampires were capable of at their worst wasn't pretty. Bash might not have witnessed it, but he'd seen the horror in Tris's eyes. The hatred in Jack’s.

  After he'd turned, Bash hadn't been able to face him. Not in his state— mindless, without control, closer to one of the beasts he had to put down in South London than to his old friends.

  Tris was a born vampire; her father was a pureblood born from the Drake line, one of the seven vampire families able to bring children into the world, and her mother had been a huntsman—Jack’s aunt. Someday, she would turn into an immortal.

  Jack didn’t hate all vampires on principle. Just the ones who couldn’t control themselves. How could Bash face him while feeling like this?

  But after three months of avoiding him, Jack was in front of him.

  So very tall. So very straight. Jack topped most men by half a head. At five foot eleven, Bash stood taller than some, but he was not Jack Hunter, son of their High Guard and an actual god. A genuine god. A minor one, but there was no other word for an immortal born of the old race who'd shaped this world.

  Jack was perfect. Bash had always been flawed in comparison, but now they shouldn't even breathe the same air.

  He looked down.

  Bash heard Jack's feet stomping forward, and half expected the man to punch him. He knew that he hadn't been fair, that he shouldn't have avoided him like he had.

  Instead, he encircled Bash’s shoulders with his arms and pulled him close, in an uncharacteristic yet firm hug.

  "You're a dumb jerk," Jack told him.

  But Jack wasn't letting go, and Bash wasn't even trying to get away from the embrace.

  Jack had blood in his veins, just like everyone else, and there was a degree of temptation, a part of him that wanted nothing but violence and chaos, that would have desired to sink his teeth inside his neck.

  But Bash found that part of him manageable now. Somehow. Maybe because of the three bags of blood he’d downed when he got to Levi's an hour ago, or because of the strange note in Jack's blood that didn't make him feel like prey. The huntsmen behind him also felt stronger. Different.

  Bath took a deep breath.

  And when he breathed out again, he was still himself.

  Voices

  Cat had sat through many conclaves in her time. All had proceeded in the exact same way: her Aunt Drusilla, leader of the Stormhales, had entered the room, her mere presence demanding silence.

  Drusilla talked, telling them of faraway news that colored her perception, her views of the world. She'd give her orders to every branch of the family, naming those who'd failed her in the past for good measure. Then, she'd leave, and everyone else would follow in silence.

  The conclave of Night Hill would be nothing like that, Cat realized right away. The setting was somewhat intimate, though the room was impressive, regal. Luke ensured a well-aged bottle of wine was placed at each coffee table.

  "Red, white, rosé? Bubbles, no bubbles? Sweet, dry?" Levi's assistant asked, sounding quite panicked.

  "If it's wet, I'll drink it."

  She had been trained in the art of appreciating wine, could tell a good one, a common one, and an expensive one, but she'd found that she liked most of them equally.

  Chloe, who'd chosen to sit next to her, chuckled. "Al
l right. That was unexpected. I thought you'd be one to roll a glass in your fingers and tell us all about the bouquet."

  Cat shrugged. "I can certainly do that when it's required of me."

  "What can't you do?" Chloe challenged in a half whisper that carried across the room.

  A hall full of supernaturals meant there was no such thing as a private conversation.

  The huntsmen may not have senses quite as keen as the vampires, but their ears were acute enough for this distance.

  Cat shrugged, conscious of the eyes on her. Of course they were curious. The Stormhales kept to themselves. They didn't mingle, like the other founders. The only people who lived in Stormhall were Stormhales. Even their slayers were rarely admitted to the main house.

  "I'm rather average at a great number of things," she stated.

  “Average?” Chloe repeated. “Yeah, right.”

  Cat remained silent, though she could have explained. Her trainers had expected her to be quite good, but she’d never been encouraged to pursue true excellence. Once she mastered a subject, she moved on to the next.

  "Languages?"

  She asked which one in Russian, to make a point. "Kotoryy iz?"

  "What did you say?" One of the huntsmen asked.

  "Which languages," Mikar, seated next to Chloe, translated for her. "Literature?" the handsome, bronze-skinned elder submitted.

  “’Reading furnishes the mind only with materials of knowledge; it is thinking that makes what we read ours.’” Cat quoted Locke.

  "Science?" Chloe supplied hopefully.

  This time, Cat went for Einstein. “‘Any fool can know. The point is to understand.’"

  "And you do understand," Chloe guessed, rolling her eyes.

  Cat laughed. "The basics. As I said, I was only expected to reach mediocrity. My job isn't to stand out. It's to be of use."

  She knew, right away, that she'd said too much. Her friend frowned in concern.

  "What do you like?"

  Cat turned. Fifteen feet away, around another coffee table, Bash was seated with Jack and a female huntsman she'd seen around Oldcrest. She'd even traveled with her to London, but Cat didn't think the woman had ever introduced herself.

  "Pardon me?" she asked, somewhat confused.

  "What do you like to do?" Bash repeated. "In your free time. If that's a concept you understand."

  Cat stared at him for a good long while. She didn't think she'd paid much attention to him before, in a specific kind of way. She'd glanced. She knew his smell and his presence. She knew he was handsome, well-built, and muscular. But that was about it.

  Now she noticed his eyes. Amber. Hair darker, not quite brown. A tattoo peeked from under the sleeve of his T-shirt.

  "Music," she said. "I like to listen to music. And play it. Badly," she added, to be accurate.

  "You should play with me someday. I wager you'd improve. I could tutor you in violin, piano, singing—"

  Cat glared at Bash.

  "For what price?"

  Before Alexius spelled out the gross reply she could foresee, Levi clapped his hands, demanding attention, as he stood before a throne-like chair at the very center of the room.

  A familiar scene.

  "All right. I believe we're all here. Word travels fast, so you know there's been an attack. Myself, Mikar, and Alexius have all examined the bodies, but it's Jack's area of expertise, so let's hear it."

  Cat frowned, confused. But Levi had sat back down, letting Jack take the stage.

  “Was it a shadowclaw?” Alexius asked.

  Jack shook his head. “No, there’s no venom in the wound.”

  “A nightfang, then.”

  “With your permission, sir, I’ll speak now.”

  Cat’s respect for Jack went up a notch; he managed to shut up Alexius Helsing. Not a small feat.

  “My huntsmen know the drill—not sure about you guys, so to make it simple: ‘demon’ is a general term that encompasses too many creatures. Some were made by the gods to fight their battles and guard their homes, yes. But some weren't made at all; they were brought here.”

  "From the gods' world?" Chloe asked.

  Jack nodded.

  "Yes. Dragons, selkies, chimera. Whether as pets or just because the gods liked having a living zoo in their transports, those creatures traveled from another realm. The monsters from the old world are considerably more powerful than your average hellhound. I'm by no means a demon expert, but I have one on speed dial. According to my father, the speed of the creature and the marks left on the remains suggest it might have been the work of a greater demon. A manticore, specifically. If he's right, and Rakiel usually is, capturing it will be extremely difficult, and killing it, impossible for us. It's fast, tonight proved as much, but manticores are also extremely clever. There's a reason behind the legends of ingenious sphinxes. Whatever trap we can think of, it will have anticipated it."

  "I think," Cat said, as Jack paused in his demonology lesson, "that we should focus less on the manticore itself and more on what it could want here. If it's as clever as you say, why hunt here, with dozens of immortals behind the gate? Unless it likes a challenge, it was probably sent here."

  The entire room was listening intently.

  Cat wasn't used to being listened to. Especially not in a conclave. Actually, this didn't feel like a conclave at all. More like her weekly naughty book club with her cousins, despite the severity of the situation. Just a discussion between…perhaps not friends, but allies. Equals.

  "Good point, but the answer is obvious," Levi said. "As there have been no attacks on our borders for centuries, and in the space of a handful of months, we suffer two, we can only deduce that they're related. Those who got through our gates in March are trying to test the borders now that we've made it harder for them to get in."

  "Harder? How so?" Tris asked.

  Levi exchanged a glance with his peers, Alexius and Anika. This wasn't a point they'd wanted to discuss here, with so many ears. And her presence was probably the reason why.

  Cat understood that. She was a Stormhale. And that made her their enemy. Potentially. Probably.

  She shifted uncomfortably.

  To her surprise, he answered after a beat.

  "We've reworked the way our wards work." Levi smiled. "Well, those we haven't killed. Before March, any resident of Oldcrest could invite someone through the gates. Now, the invitation must come from a current resident of Night Hill. A traitor among us let in those ferals and vampires, and we couldn't afford a repeat of that. The access to our territory of anyone, except Institute students and current residents of Oldcrest, has been revoked. We have a blank state, and security in place to avoid another breach."

  Cat stilled. She opened her mouth, but no words would come.

  That won’t be enough.

  That’s what she should have said. Now was the time to reveal what she could do, what her entire clan could do.

  But it was a family secret. She’d be betraying not only her intimidating, all-powerful aunt but also everyone else. Her little sister and her big brother. All those who relied on secrecy to defend themselves. If the world knew how the Stormhales operated, they’d be prepared for it.

  However, if she said nothing, her friends could suffer. Her friends could die.

  But only if her family attacked them.

  Cat’s heart ached. Her brain throbbed. Her throat tightened.

  Say it. Keep your mouth shut.

  Her mind couldn’t settle on an answer. There was no right one.

  “Hang on," said a huntsman Cat didn't recognize. "You reworked wards made thousands of years ago? Just like that."

  She was grateful for the interruption to her messy train of thoughts. Also, the huntsman made a good point. How the hell had they achieved that feat?

  Levi's expression changed, and before he said a word, Cat knew he was done sharing sensitive information.

  “Anything is possible with the right tool.”

 
Could his reply have been any vaguer?

  “The point is, they can't get in anymore, and they've worked that out. So, they're throwing what they can at us to see what sticks, so to speak. This is the start. They wanted to see if the manticore could pass through once a student opened the gate.”

  The theory made sense: the creature had hunted its victims down so very close to the border, and the girls had, of course, tried to get back in.

  Cruel and insensitive as the feeling was, Cat was glad they hadn't made it across. Because if the manticore had managed to get in, they might have had to bury a hell of a lot more than two bodies.

  "Would it have worked?" Chloe asked.

  Greer, sitting next to Alexius, nodded. "If it was touching the girl as she passed through, more than likely. But tricks like that can only get one creature in at a time. It's not a viable option if they want to flood our gates with an army again."

  "Still, we won't let them pick off our students," Anika stated.

  There was a unanimous nod of assent, Cat included. Confused and conflicted as she was, one thing was certain: she didn't want to see other girls torn the same way.

  "I propose we reinstate a sentinel patrol, day and night,” Levi said. “I will not hire outsiders, not in the current climate. That means that each of you—each of us—will need to do our part. For that reason, let's put it to a vote."

  By this point, Cat shouldn't have been surprised, but she was. A patrol made sense. Everything they'd said led to that conclusion. Except Levi could have just told them what they were going to do. Ordered them. Not Alexius or Anika, perhaps, and not the huntsmen, either. But twenty-nine vampires were gathered in the room, nine of whom were his employees. He was their lord by every law their race obeyed.

  And instead of commanding them, he made them vote.

  So that was what freedom tasted like.

  No voice spoke against the arrangement, and Cat signed up for the first shift of the day—or the last one of the night, depending on how one looked at it. Half past midnight to six. Most of her lessons ran from afternoon to late evening, and, in any case, she'd never needed much sleep.