Blood of a Huntsman: After Darkness Falls Book Two

by Sage, May

  But above all, the most important pawn—set up on the chessboard, by whatever player was carefully manipulating the pieces—was her.

  Before March, any resident of Oldcrest could invite someone through the gates. Now, the invitation must come from a current resident of Night Hill.

  Cat stayed in the dorm by choice, because she hadn't wanted to lock herself away in a huge empty house. Her current address was Number Three, Night Hill, which meant that she could let anyone she wanted inside the territory.

  Her family had let her come to Oldcrest for a reason, and Cat now doubted that it was so she could bag a De Villier prince, as she'd initially thought.

  If she was right, her family was against Oldcrest. Against Chloe, Levi, everyone else. Cat knew her aunt too well to doubt that she'd call herself queen given half a chance. They could be the ones behind this whole mess. If Drusilla wasn’t the queen, at the very least, there was a considerable chance that they were in league.

  Meaning, Cat would soon be given orders she might not like.

  As her next lesson wasn't until later that afternoon, Cat walked down the hill at a leisurely pace. She decided to stop and see how the patient was doing, if only to distract herself.

  She walked into the guest bedroom, where Greer was changing Maddy’s bandages.

  "Hey there. You look better."

  Ever so slightly. Cat hadn’t changed very long ago, so she remembered that it took time to heal from the stupidest little things. Maddy's attack had left wounds as serious as any human could get. Even with Alexius's healing powers and Greer's magic, she wouldn’t be walking for weeks.

  "Funny. I didn't peg you for a liar." Maddy snorted.

  "All right. You look alive. Alive is better."

  The girl tried to smile, and gave up after a wince.

  "Anything I can get you? Food, a book? Is someone copying your lessons?"

  Maddy closed her eyes, as though keeping them open was too much of an effort.

  "I'm all good, thank you."

  Something changed in the air, all of a sudden. Cat went to the window and looked out at the darkening sky.

  Cat went to the girl's bedside table and took her phone. "I'm inputting my number in here. I can't take calls in the Institute, of course, but text if you need anything."

  "Everyone offered to help," Maddy replied.

  "Well, you're not everyone's guest. You're mine."

  She'd learned many lessons she would have liked to scratch from her mind. Hospitality wasn't one of them.

  "You're nice. You should let people see that you're nice."

  Cat chuckled.

  "I'm not even close to nice, Madeleina. But what happened to you was unfair. And what happened to your friends, unacceptable. If there's any way to make things easier for you now, I'll try. As anyone with a soul would."

  Maddy's eyes fluttered open. "It's not your soul that I see. It's your heart. Someday, they'll understand how big it is."

  Cat watched the girl closely. She'd asked for her name, but she didn't know much else about her. There had been something in her tone, something that made her words sound like certainty.

  "I'm tired now. Are we done, Greer?"

  "Just about."

  "Good. Can you knock me out?"

  The witch laughed and handed her a small flask.

  "Sweet dreams."

  Maddy downed the contents without question, collapsing on her bedding instants later.

  Catherine smiled, remembering the patient’s advice. Let people see she was nice?

  Yeah, right. That would work out.

  She liked the girl, though. She was strong and resilient for a young one. A couple of days later, Cat helped her move back to the dorms. They waved at each other in the corridors over the next few weeks. Said hi, occasionally.

  Catherine didn’t know how it happened, exactly, but a lot more people seemed to speak to her these days. Asking for the time, just greeting her randomly, commenting about lessons.

  She didn’t mind.

  The Return

  End of May, Bash's phone buzzed around noon, a text from Chloe waking him up.

  "Can you meet me at Levi's? I thought you'd be here."

  He chuckled. He'd definitely spent way too much time on the hill.

  "I'm at the dorm. Give me five minutes."

  He brushed his teeth and took a quick shower before dashing up Night Hill. Chloe was in front of the mansion, her tall frame hidden behind piles of boxes.

  "Moving in? Levi will be happy."

  She snorted. "He wishes. That's just decorative stuff I ordered a while back for Cosnoc."

  Bash whistled. "For Eirikr, you mean?"

  As a huntsman, he'd always been fascinated by the elder vampire. Not only because he was the very first of their kind; he'd also created the huntsmen. Training humans and then spelling the strongest among them to become stronger, better, with a witch's brew colored with a drop of his blood. Back in his days, vampires had met no resistance, killing as they pleased. Eirikr had been the only one who wanted to do something about it. If not for him, the history of humanity might have been a lot different.

  "I can run back and forth, but I figured I'd ask you to carry stuff with me, if you don't mind," she said carefully.

  Bash was surprised. "Didn't Levi offer?"

  Chloe chuckled. "He did. But I'm not ready to introduce those two. It'd be like my boyfriend meeting my father. Except my actual father is in prison, and this one is a psychotic elder vamp stuck in a cave. Anyway. I'll delay that for a little longer, if possible. But Eirikr asked about you. A huntsman turned vampire? He's interested."

  Bash had to admit he was a little anxious, but he hid it well.

  He grabbed three of the five large boxes and followed Chloe down Night Hill, through the path leading to the Institute, and then up Cosnoc, following the path to Eirikr's cave.

  Bash had been on this hill several times. Jack organized races there, the occasional campfire, but they'd never gone anywhere near the caves.

  As he approached, he felt a strange energy telling him to pull back. Leave.

  "Ah, it hit you," said Chloe, turning to him. "Ignore it. It goes away with time. The witches who set up the spells around this place did a little bit to deter people from going in there, but they mostly concentrated on shields preventing Eirikr from coming out."

  That made sense.

  But as they walked farther down the dark path lined with overgrown trees, bushes, and long grass, Bash felt weak, lethargic. He started to pant. Every step seemed to cost him, making it harder to breathe. Then, the thirst started to distract him again.

  He wasn't sure he would have been able to go that far before the change.

  "Chloe? I don't think I can go much further."

  He hated admitting weakness.

  She frowned. "Really? We're not very far."

  "It's…" He paused. "I could be wrong, but perhaps you're not affected because of your blood. Princess of the seven, Eirikrson, with divine nanocytes helping. You know. One of those things might make you less sensitive than the rest of us."

  "Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. Shame. Let me get those boxes down, then I'll come back for the rest."

  She returned less than a minute later, grinning.

  "How's the psycho?"

  "In good spirits. Although he would have liked to see you. Thanks for accompanying me, Bash."

  "Don't mention it."

  Bash headed out to the Institute’s courtyard, feeling awkward as shit. All eyes followed him as he walked toward Anika Beaufort, who was training Tris, Jack, Bat, Zavier, Easton, and Chris, students in the most advanced sparring class, which he'd once been a part of.

  Bash inhaled deeply. Almost everyone in the courtyard smelled like fucking food. His friends were marginally better, but that wasn't saying much.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  But he knew. He hated it, but Cat's words from two weeks ago had stayed with him, bothering him enough that
he was willing to try her way. If only to prove she was wrong. That the problem was more complicated than him simply not being used to the smell of human beings. Steven had told him they were monsters. The kid had lived with the curse for years, so he would know.

  He needed a distraction. And suddenly he knew just what would do the trick.

  A pair of lips on his. So fucking soft. A slender body under his palm. Slim, muscular legs around him. Shit, Catherine had felt so good.

  His fists unclenched at his side and he took a calming breath, then crossed the yard. Thirst was now replaced by something else. Lust. But also annoyance.

  She’d barely spared him a glance or said a word since that kiss. They patrolled in silence and went their separate ways at six every morning. And he hated it.

  "Hey. You mind if I join?" he asked.

  At least Anika was strong enough to stop him if he went off the rails. So was Jack, and maybe even Tris.

  "While you haven’t thought it necessary to grace us with your presence for fifteen weeks, you're still signed up for this class, Bash," Anika replied. "So please do, unless you want to flunk."

  Oh. Yeah, he hadn't bothered to drop out of any of his old lectures. He wondered how pissed the rest of his teachers were.

  "Sure. Cool. Erm—"

  "I'll take you, big guy," Tris said with a wink, stepping away from her cousin. "Let's see if sprouting fangs has improved your footing."

  He was grateful. Out of everyone except Anika and Jack, Tris was the least appetizing person here, and she could certainly take care of herself.

  Though she hadn't turned yet, she was a born vampire. She'd always been faster than him, and stronger than most.

  "All right. Today we're working with hands bound. You're expected to overthrow your opponent in three minutes or less. When you're in the role of the kidnapper, you are to imitate the fighting style of a sup—werewolf, witch, vamp, that's up to you. No huntsman techniques. We're practicing so that you know how to escape a sup holding you captive. Understood?"

  Piece of cake, with his increased speed.

  "To make the game fair, Jack, Tris, you have one minute. And Bash? You have fifteen seconds."

  Shit.

  Well, it was his fault for expecting Anika's class to be easy.

  They took turns binding each other's wrists. Anika gave them iron bonds, while the other huntsmen worked with rope. Tris won, but it took her five minutes at first. Bash did manage to get her on her ass after a full minute. They kept alternating until they were both considerably better at moving despite the restraints. By the time Anika called the end of class, he'd improved to nineteen seconds, and Tris was at two and a half minutes.

  "Not bad, sucker," she told him with a huge grin.

  Then she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed hard. A little too hard for it to feel casual.

  "I'm proud of you for being here," Tris said, before letting go.

  Bash's throat tightened.

  He wasn't proud as much as stunned and a little annoyed.

  Two hours of sweating in the courtyard like the old days, and already he felt a difference. Smelled a difference.

  Oh, they still smelled delicious beyond belief. But while he'd been concentrating on sparring, he'd somehow become a little more immune to the scent. He didn't think he was likely to jump on anyone right now. Unless they opened their wrist in front of him and start bleeding out.

  He headed to his next class with Tris, wondering how pissed Professor Crane was going to be. The man took his leadership class seriously. A bear shifter businessman running a successful business in finance, he traveled to Oldcrest twice a week to teach, and he had little patience with slackers.

  "You get along with the bear. Any advice?" Bash asked Tris, who snorted.

  "Beg for his pardon? I swear his claws come out every time he glances at your seat."

  Bash winced, stiffening as they approached the amphitheater.

  Theo Crane, five foot ten, with salt-and-pepper hair and arms the size of bolsters, growled low as soon as he saw him.

  Tris passed him by, whispering, "Good luck."

  Dammit. Bash approached the bear, hands behind his back.

  "Good afternoon, sir."

  "Is it now? Is that why you haven't bothered to attend class for thirteen weeks? Wasn't sunny enough for you?"

  Bash didn't bother to point out that he'd been turned into a vampire. Any shifter could smell it, and any idiot would be able to note the difference in him. The stillness and pallor.

  "My apologies, sir."

  "Your apologies will not make up for almost four months of absence. A dissertation on pro-environmental behavior change using evidence-based practice might. I will have it on my desk before the summer holiday. Understood?"

  Bash winced. In just under two weeks? Crane's leadership course was one of his most challenging classes. He was a huntsman; in his youth he'd studied creatures, combat, spells. He'd taken the basics in math and sciences, but that was about the extent of his education. Bash had a bachelor’s in myths and legends. Economics, strategy, development, sustainability—that was like deciphering Chinese. Crane was a gifted orator, and while he wasn't exactly patient, his explanations were clear. Bash followed his lessons well enough. But if he was supposed to research those subjects himself, he might not be finished for months.

  But he nodded. "Yes, sir."

  "Very well. I trust you remember where your seat is, Sebastian."

  He headed to his spot between Easton Read and Tris.

  "East."

  The man grunted, ill-humored. Bash didn't take it personally. Easton was always crotchety. His parents had died along with Bash's, but unlike him, Easton didn't have any siblings. He'd been twenty-two at the time, and alone. Few friends, no family. The huntsmen had tried to provide him with support, but he'd shut everyone out.

  It probably didn't help that their parents' murderers had yet to be found.

  They'd been on a mission to destroy Vlad, a vampire known for his savagery, so four of the best partners had been sent. Eight huntsmen against one. It should have been a piece of cake. But no one came back alive.

  At twenty, Easton had come to the Institute to get his bachelor’s, but since the incident, he'd changed. He had no ambition now. He'd said himself that he liked being a foot soldier, sent to kill things without having to worry about investigations or conspiracies. Bash was pretty certain he was back for his master’s only because Vlad had stirred again, after more than a decade.

  Six months ago, he'd massacred witches in London, members of Rose's Coven. The huntsmen reopened the investigation, but only fully licensed agents were allowed on the case. Bash got it. Vlad hadn't been caught yet, and the next time his name appeared on a mission, East wanted in.

  Bash felt the same impulse when he'd first heard of Vlad's most recent antics. But then he'd remembered his brother and sister. His friends. And he'd decided to live.

  He wondered what call he'd make now. He was stronger. Faster. And less attached to his existence.

  An Unfamiliar Space

  The scent of the classroom was far worse than the courtyard, where the fresh air had diluted the smell of blood. Though the room was large, the smell was a lot more condensed, especially after Crane closed the door.

  The first few breaths were hard. His fist tightened, and he trembled, concentrating just to remain seated. Part of him, the dark voice whispering at the back of his mind, was assessing the people around him, seeing them as prey.

  The huntsmen's presence helped. Tris had a knife or two in her sleeve, and wouldn't hesitate to throw it at him if he messed up. That alone was enough to reel in the frustrated beast.

  Bash opened his satchel and pulled out a blood bag. Then he stilled, realizing he was just opening the first out of twelve he stored in the refrigerated bag.

  Damn.

  He took a sip, and his shoulders dropped, his breathing deepened.

  He could do this.

  After a thr
ee-month break, suffering through Crane's lesson might have resulted in a headache if not for his new abilities. Instead, Bash found that his mind was soaking in every word and coming up with a thousand questions. And, unbelievably, forgetting about the thirst.

  Dammit. He was going to have to thank Catherine fucking Stormhale and let her say a big fat "I told you so."

  "Still good?" Tris asked him with a sunny smile as she put away her notebook.

  Bash noted that he’d never bothered pulling his out. He remembered Crane’s each and every word. Each graphic and date and number.

  Somehow, his brain wasn't even exploding.

  "Yeah, I'm fine."

  "I have Literature. You?"

  "Break until Spells tonight. I'll just go back to…" Levi's. He was about to say Levi's. His refuge. He could ask Chloe for news about her ancestor, and read another book, maybe train with someone. But after a moment, Bash decided against it. "The dorm."

  He had an empty room he barely recognized, unpacked suitcases to sort out, and a life to rebuild.

  Bash organized his stuff, dusting the top of his laptop before starting it up and signing in to the Institute's archives, a website he'd barely explored since the start of his studies. He'd only logged on to submit assignments to the professors who accepted electronic documents. The older immortals had a thing for paper.

  He navigated awkwardly until he found Crane's archives, then searched keywords related to his assignment and groaned. Dammit. There were thousands of pages. At least his reading speed had increased.

  Bash flew through seven of the hundred and ninety-three documents containing the term “environment” before realizing that notes weren't the worst idea. He had a much better memory now, but the more he tried to store in his mind, the more jumbled and confusing everything became. He wrote down chapters and pages, and put the information right out of his consciousness, storing it in the list of things he could ignore. He was functioning like a computer, storing data on an external drive to avoid lag. A creepy notion, but now that he'd admitted it to himself, he found his task considerably easier.