Blood of a Huntsman: After Darkness Falls Book Two

by Sage, May

  Lifting his head to the window, Bash noticed that night had fallen. He looked at the time. Nine. After a moment of consideration, Bash set an alarm clock for eleven-thirty before returning to his task. It wouldn't do to miss his sentinel shift with Catherine.

  Catherine Stormhale. She was always at the edge of his mind these days. When he thought about blood, he imagined her challenging him. When he didn't think about blood, he remembered that he owed that little bit of sanity to her. Bash saw she could easily become an obsession.

  That kiss…

  Yeah, he wasn't going there.

  Bash's phone startled him, thankfully stopping his train of thought.

  A video chat from Emilia.

  "Hey, is everything all right?"

  She didn't usually call out of the blue.

  "Yep, I just wanted you to know that Paul has his first solo assignment."

  Holy shit. That was big. Solo assignments were always easy, a quick trip down to the nearest coven to ask about a report of mistreatment. Nothing came of it, usually. But Bash remembered his. He'd been all red throughout the entire ordeal, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

  As usual, Bash felt a mixture of pride in his brother and resentment that he couldn’t be there when Paul returned.

  But that was stupid. He wouldn't have been in Brighton even if he hadn't been bitten.

  So, he just let go and smiled. Genuinely smiled at his sister.

  "You look good, Sebastian. Anything happened?"

  He shrugged. "I feel better, yeah. A little."

  Emilia proved far too perceptive again. "It's a girl, isn't it?"

  Bash groaned. "I'm twenty-eight, sister. I don't do girls."

  "A woman, then. Vamp or huntsman? No, wait. It's a witch, right? Is that how you managed to do magic the other day?"

  "There's no girl. No woman. No witch. I don't have time for—"

  "Don't bother lying, I'll meet her this summer. Anyway, Paul's mission is tonight. Call him after ten, all right? And don't worry. I'll shadow him to make sure he doesn't get into any actual trouble."

  Bash had to laugh. That was an unspoken tradition. Whenever a kid went on a first solo, one or two seasoned warriors followed discreetly. Bash's parents had trailed him at sixteen, then Bash and Jack trailed Emilia five years ago. She'd never needed them, but they would have been there if she had.

  "I'm glad you're there for him."

  "As you were there for me. I have to review my mission. Catch you later, Sebastian."

  "Next weekend," he promised.

  And for once, he might actually stay the entire weekend.

  Might. He wasn't about to push himself and put his siblings in harm’s way. But if he did improve over the next ten days, he could always try. As long as Luke was there to stop him in case he lost it.

  Trust

  Catherine was completely motionless, hand on the thick paper. She'd read the words five times, but they still stubbornly said the exact same thing. Words written by Drusilla’s strange hand, in an early Latin alphabet.

  There were only five of them.

  Come home before summer break.

  Simple and to the point. An order that she shouldn't have questioned.

  Cat felt like her knees were going to give out.

  An order to come home in less than three weeks.

  The letter shouldn't have come as a surprise. It didn't. But the very idea made her feel sick. Weak. She couldn't imagine a worse fate than having to return to her golden cage and dance to her family's tune for the next few years. Not after Oldcrest. Not after tasting freedom and friendship.

  Cat might have enjoyed her time here, but she didn't think she'd quite understood how much until now, when it was being taken from her.

  Her fist tightened over the paper. She should be relieved. Drusilla wanting her out of the way meant that the Stormhales weren't part of this mess. That's what she'd thought at first.

  But why before summer?

  Many students remained in Oldcrest during the other breaks, but in July and August, barely anyone lived there, save for the permanent residents.

  Anyone who wished to attack Oldcrest would benefit from doing it then. Did that mean her family was involved?

  At the very least, they knew that something was going on and wanted to ensure Catherine wasn't there. She bit her lip.

  Her duty to her family was written on her skin. Quite literally. She still had marks for every time she'd disobeyed. Scars. Her right knee had been broken once. Her wrist, a few times. Each of her fingers too.

  Those punishments had been for minor offenses. If she defied Drusilla now, she knew the price would be far steeper.

  It wasn't worth it. It just wasn't.

  She was going home, and that was it.

  Catherine bit her lip.

  Then she rushed out of the dorms and ran right to Night Hill.

  "Billevern."

  The troll guarding the gates grunted at her. He didn't like her much, but he seemed to feel the same way about most people.

  "Can I go through?"

  Others had to state their purpose when they wanted admittance to the hill, but Cat technically lived there.

  He wordlessly pressed a button, and the brand-new gates barring the way tilted open.

  "Thank you."

  Cat thought about heading to Levi but decided against it. Instead, she stopped by the second house on the hill, right under hers.

  "Anika? Anyone here?"

  It was ten in the evening; she knew most of Anika's lessons were during the day, and her night shift started in two hours, same as Cat's. The woman appeared a few minutes later, wearing a kimono and fluffy sleepers.

  "Hey! Nice of you to pop by. Fancy a drink?"

  "It's not just a courtesy visit," she admitted. "I'm here because I have to tell someone. I think my family might be against us. Against Oldcrest."

  Anika's brows lifted, and her jaw fell open.

  "All right. Come in. I definitely need a drink for that conversation."

  Cat walked in, following the professor through the beautiful gold and azure home modeled after Versailles.

  No wonder. Anika's family was related to French royalty—the Bourbons and Beauforts were close cousins. Cat knew that most of her family still lived in the Loire Valley in a castle warded almost as well as the Institute.

  Almost.

  "How are they, by the way? Your family," Anika asked offhandedly, leading the way through the grandiose rooms.

  Cat shrugged. "My brother texts occasionally. He's…well, he's Seth."

  Anyone who'd ever met Seth would have understood.

  Anika laughed. "No one was ever more aptly named. God of storm, chaos, disorder…"

  Cat wished she could say something in defense of her elder brother, but the description fit—and given the fact that he had a was-scepter made for himself, he embraced the comparison.

  "Well, he's causing chaos in Russia at the moment. Or was, last week."

  "Good, good," Anika said.

  They'd reached a large kitchen with copper pans and very sharp knives on display.

  "And your sister?"

  "We video chat," Cat said. "Not as often; she's still in Rome, and my family is keeping her busy. How about your siblings?"

  "You know," the professor replied, opening a glass cabinet.

  She pulled out a set of carved crystal martini glasses with a faint blue hue. Rather pretty, although a little too old-fashioned and girly for Cat's taste.

  "What's your poison?"

  Cat shrugged. "Anything, really."

  "Come on, give me a challenge. I used to bartend for fun back in the day."

  Now that was a surprise.

  Every old vampire went through phases where their vocation felt tiresome, mundane. However much one might enjoy a task, doing it over and over for eternity sucked the passion out of it.

  But a bartender? Cat wondered how many children of the seven ever did something so simple. She kne
w the Stormhales would never allow her to work in a bar.

  But she and Anika were in very different positions. Cat was one of the youngest in her generation. Only five Stormhales were under a century old. Worse yet, she was the least powerful of those five. Anika was hundreds of years old and a master in combat. No one could tell her what to do.

  Cat couldn't help a pang of envy.

  "Surprise me."

  "Ha! I knew I liked you. Take a seat."

  She climbed on a barstool and watched Anika mix a drink with flair to show off her skills. Cat grinned as she watched the bottles fly, twist, and turn in the air and around Anika’s hands.

  "So, you were saying? About your family."

  Cat bit her lip.

  "Do you believe in coincidences?" she asked the professor.

  "Another word for fate. Or schemes, depending on the situation."

  She nodded. "Precisely. Well, how likely is it that half a dozen students start in the second semester, on the very same day and at the exact moment when the last Eirikrson enters the school?"

  "A chance in a million," said Anika. "We discussed that in conclave the day before your arrival. Levi shut down the question. In hindsight, I'd say he was protecting Chloe."

  She nodded. "Of course. But that doesn't change the fact that something—someone—sent us all here. The air witch," she said, pausing to recall her name. "Gwen. The fox. Maybe even the huntsman."

  Cat wished she'd attended orientation with them, but she had arrived too late.

  "And me," she added. "I think that our arrival had something to do with Chloe."

  "More than likely. For good or ill."

  Cat remained silent. But really, who would believe that whatever scheme her family was concocting could be conceived as good?

  "What makes you think that the Stormhales are against Oldcrest?"

  Cat pulled the letter out of her pocket and handed it to Anika. In exchange, Anika gave her a drink that smelled fruity and delicious. Cat detected raspberry, pineapple, maybe peach. Definitely vodka. Something else too.

  She brought it to her lips and moaned in delight. What was that?

  She wanted to ask, but instead she concentrated on the point at hand. Her mind often betrayed her, distracted by random irrelevant details. This was too important to let her mind wander.

  "Drusilla tells me to return home before summer. That's very specific. And I was supposed to go back regardless. This feels like…a warning. Like they know something is about to happen. I want to warn the others, I think. I could be exaggerating. Maybe there's a party I'm supposed to attend. But something feels off. What do you think?"

  Cat had gone to Anika for advice because the woman was as smart as she was powerful. Plus, she was a lot more than just a professor. As an ancient Beaufort, she had as many slayers and spies as Levi in her service. She must at least suspect something, or know for sure that her family wasn't involved.

  "I think," Anika said carefully, "that you're much smarter than your aunt gives you credit for. Unfortunate, really. I liked you."

  Cat froze an instant before her vision started to blur.

  She looked down at her drink and gasped.

  So very sweet. So very fruity. Just enough to mask a faint scent she hadn't recognized.

  Bane

  A coppery hint, with a touch of fermented flesh, like rotten blood. Nightbane. The one poison that could affect their kind.

  If the poison hadn’t been mixed with anything, Cat would have recognized it a mile away, but mingled with so many scents and served by someone she trusted? She had suspected nothing.

  Cat tumbled to her feet, falling forward on her knees. Head down, she did her best to cough it up, in vain.

  "Oh, chill, sweetheart," Anika said casually.

  She lifted her head, and from the corner of her blurring vision, saw the professor smiling down at her, tilting her head.

  "Your blood isn't mine to spill. That was just a drop to keep you nice and quiet while I send a little note to Drusilla."

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  How stupid was she? She knew there was an enemy, someone informing the queen, or whoever was against them. Why hadn't she stopped to think that it could be Anika? Because she'd known her before the Institute. Because she was old, wise, and had the right name. Because she had turned soft and trustful.

  What an idiot.

  Anika was writing a letter on her breakfast table to Cat's aunt. And if that letter reached Drusilla, she was as good as dead. The Stormhale clan didn’t allow for many mistakes in general, but there was one price for treason. Death. A painful, public execution, so gruesome it would be spoken of for the next hundred years.

  Time. She had to play for time.

  One drop of nightbane would run its course, leave her system, and she could fight back. Stop the letter. Stop Anika. Warn…who? Who did she trust?

  To her surprise, even in light of this betrayal, names flooded the edge of her confused mind.

  Chloe. Levi. Greer. Even Billevern would help now.

  "Sebastian," she whispered.

  That this particular name would come to mind, let alone escape her lips, confused her. She didn't even know him, so why would she trust him with something so very important—her life? But her instincts were clear.

  She had to get to one of them, any of them.

  "It's not your fault, you know. Your aunt is a power-hungry bitch. A smart woman would have brought you up to speed, given you a clear mission. Sending you here without a word and expecting you to just comply? That wasn't fair. Still, I can't let you get in the way."

  "Why?" Cat croaked, her throat hurting.

  She didn't think it had ever been quite so dry. Cat hadn't felt sick once since being turned. But now, her stomach was convulsing, churning, burning.

  "Why? Because bitch or not, Drusilla has a fucking point. We don't want the Eirikrsons to return. Especially not one who's decades away from spreading her legs and spouting out little De Villiers. They're going to take what is rightfully ours. Power."

  Her head was spinning. Cat wanted to drop to the ground and just rest. But if she did that, she'd be gone.

  She had to keep Anika talking. Time was her best defense now.

  "Do you think…Drusilla," she managed to mumble, "will share power?"

  Anika shrugged. "It's a big world. I'm fine just keeping a country or two."

  She couldn't believe her ears. This was Anika. Anika, who wasn't with her pompous family in France because she preferred teaching students over sitting in a palace.

  Catherine started to understand her mistake. Anika wasn't here because she wanted to be a professor.

  She was here because she wanted to live on Night Hill. The only seat of power truly recognized by all.

  Anika disgusted Cat. Truly, to the bottom of her heart. Cat clung on to that feeling—the pure rage, fury, revulsion—and let it fuel her. Keep her awake.

  She managed to get to her knees.

  "Drusilla will…use you. And spit you out."

  Cat started to feel better. The tremor was stopping. The pain around her abdomen receded.

  "Drusilla is bound by her oath as well as any of us. She promised me France, Germany, and Spain, and I shall have them."

  "What about the queen, then?" Cat pushed, hoping for answers.

  If she lived through today, she needed to know as much as possible.

  Anika snorted. "That upstart is an idiot. Ambitious, I'll give you that. But an idiot nonetheless. She doesn't have enough support to achieve her goal. And while Chloe and Tom breathe, she can't even use her one real source of power."

  The professor knew a lot more than she, a lot more than all of them. She needed to keep her talking without realizing that Cat was interrogating her.

  Cat decided to do what she did best, a strategy that generally worked with ancient vampires, who often underestimated youth. She played dumb.

  "You mean Chloe is stopping the queen? That doesn't make any sense."
<
br />   But it did. She perfectly understood what Anika had hinted at.

  The so-called queen was drawing power from the Eirikrsons, power that she'd managed to steal from them while no one could access it. Now that the true heirs were back, she was cut off from it.

  Which could only mean one thing. The queen had been turned by an Eirikrson.

  "The two petulant children may not use Skyhall, but you know what's buried inside. The same thing festers under your house, here on the hill."

  Cat nodded.

  When all seven founder lines turned against Eirikr, they used dark magic to seal him in his tomb on Cosnoc, the forbidden hill. Magic that had cost a lot more than a few coins tossed at a parlor-trick witch.

  Blood.

  The strength of the seven families’ blood kept Eirikr imprisoned. The spell had not faded through the ages because the blood anchoring it still lay under the tomb.

  The beating hearts of the seven strongest among their kind.

  The purpose of the sacrifice had been to seal Eirikr, but soon, the seven noticed that their strength increased while in their house.

  As did their cruelty. Their rage. Their darkness.

  Every family soon moved away. Save for Levi, Anika, and Alexius.

  Cat used to believe that was because they were strong enough to withstand the pull of the evil presence. Now she wasn't so sure.

  Something tapped at the window, and Anika let in a large eagle.

  "I think that's quite enough chitchat, don't you?"

  She rolled her note and placed it in the bird's claw.

  "Yes. I think so, too," Cat replied, eyes on the window.

  She was no Seth. She was no Drusilla. Her power was minimal. Inconsequential.

  But for better or worse, she was a Stormhale, and she'd be damned if she let a treacherous bitch ruin her life.

  Cat called to the sky with everything she had, everything she was. She called to the blood under her house and the clouds overhead. She even called to the waters of the lake, though they'd never answered her before. She dug deep inside her, emptying her mind of everything, everyone, except the one thing that mattered in the end.

  Power.