Page 34 of Blood of a Huntsman

"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 andarms 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.

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