Page 222 of Hunters and Prey

Maybe this seer was even the construct’s architect. He definitely had intense light. Despite his mention of a wife and kids, he also had that kind of recluse monk thing to his aleimi, like he’d spent a lot of time staring at rock walls inside caves.

He’d mentioned his wife was somewhere nearby, though. Did they spend time here together, in some construct space in the Barrier?

Or could this really be… well, real… in some way?

Remembering how he’d fallen asleep, the straps, the Velcro, him joking with Miri about going with her, he let himself really think about that for the first time. As he did, Black felt the first inklings of fear. Was he in the place Miri disappeared to?

If so, where the fuck was his wife?

When his eyes refocused on the other male, he found that male frowning, looking Black over with the same intensity Black had been aiming at him.

The tall, black-haired male seemed to be conducting his own mental calculation.

For the first time, Black noticed his clothes.

He wore black, form-fitting pants, almost like something from back home, but the belt on his waist was heavy, holding an assortment of tools. The holster for the gun he carried hung at one hip, but he had something else strapped crosswise around his chest and one shoulder. From behind his head, Black noticed a hilt.

A sword. Or some kind of big knife.

Were there vampires here?

“You’d better come up to the house,” the glass-eyed male said after a pause. Grunting as he looked down at Black’s naked body, he added sourly, “You’re close to my size. We can at least get you clothed before you wander into someone else’s garden. Take you down to the Council. Maybe someone there will claim you.”

Black frowned, staring up at that angular face.

“Claim me?” He felt his face harden. “What the fuck does that––”

“It was a joke, brother,” the other said mildly, clicking under his breath. “You need to lighten the fuck up. You didn’t catch me trespassing. Or stealing from you. I think I’m being friendly as fuck, under the circumstances.”

His eyes remained fixed on Black’s however.

Black saw the wariness there.

He hadn’t noticed before, maybe because this seer hadn’t been in that headspace in a while, but the tall, glass-eyed male definitely had the markers that came with a military-trained seer. Now that he was looking at him in that light, Black would have sworn he was some kind of career soldier.

It was odd, to say the least, to see that coupled with the monk thing.

As the other male stared back at him, the scrutiny in those pale, colorless eyes grew almost open, despite the infiltrator’s mask that hid his thoughts from view.

“You’re an infiltrator,” Black said. “Military-trained.”

The other didn’t deny it.

Even so, Black saw the wariness in those glass-like eyes sharpen.

“Who are you?” the other male growled. Still staring at Black, he added, his voice harder, “How is it that you speak English, little brother?”

Still obviously thinking, the tall, glass-eyed infiltrator frowned.

“You’re not one of us who fled the Dreng,” he said. “You didn’t come through the portal. But you clearly aren’t from here, either.” His eyes fell slightly out of focus. He was holding the gun up again, although he no longer aimed it directly at Black’s head. “You’re Elaerian. You’re something anyway. Not Sark.”

The male continued to stare at him, that thing that was bugging him about Black growing more and more prominent in those glass-like eyes, that diamond light.

Black could feel a harder suspicion sparking in the other male.

It was clearly something about him––about Black himself, about his light––that the other male didn’t trust.

Black couldn’t get any sense of what “it” was, though.

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