Page 79 of Blood of a Huntsman

Thunder

Cat walked inside the ancient manor and found her sword still lying in the hallway. She’d left it there when she’d brought Maddy in, and hadn’t used it yet.

She took it now. Lightning, Levi had said it was called. She knew it wouldn’t be of any use to her now, but she still found it comforting. The sword was a present from Chloe, from Levi. A reminder of who she was here.

Just like Levi's house was decorated in dark red and silver, the Stormhale keep was purple and gold, gaudy tones Cat had never liked.

A handsome blond man lounged on a magenta damask four-seater, his head on the armrest, eyes on the ceiling. He wore a black suit without a shirt, and a red tie. This man was more handsome than Levi, Bash, and Jack. Only Fin Varra could hold a candle to his perfection, which didn't stop at his physical aspect. He was smarter than anyone Cat knew, stronger than most witches, and as good with a sword as any warrior, though he was only thirty-five. He’d turned five years ago, later than most born vampires. As a result, there was a masculinity, a certain ruggedness to his aesthetic. Messy hair and three-day-old stubble were his signature style, and he knew exactly how it affected the women—and men—he encountered.

No doubt he was the reason Cat was so hard to impress.

Cat didn't ask how he'd gotten in. She didn't ask what he was doing here. She did the only thing she could do.

Pulling her sword from its sheath on her belt and planting it on the floor, she got to her knees, head bowed low.

"Brother."

Seth rolled his eyes.

"Oh, please. None of that nonsense here. Aunt Dru isn't hiding behind the potted cactus, you know."

Cat hazarded a half-smile and rose to her feet. "That we know of."

"It's good to see you, Catharina."

"Likewise, Seth. What's with the dramatic entrance? I would have thought you'd quite like riding a bike through the Highlands."

Her brother laughed. "That certainly would have been more to my taste, but I'm here with a message that could not be delayed, given the situation.”

"I'd say so. How long did it take you to get here from Rome?”

“Seven seconds, give or take. I didn’t actually count.”

She winced on his behalf. “Do you need some water, something to eat, blood?"

Riding a lightning bolt took so much energy that most storm mages would have died from the effort.

Most vampires, even those who couldn't use magic, could transport their consciousness to the mind of an animal they'd established a connection with. They called it syncing. When it was done well, they could literally disappear, their corporal form traveling along with the beast like a wave of pure energy. A form of blood magic born of affection and understanding between man and beast.

Some—the best—mages could sync with their elements. Cat had never managed it. But Seth Stormhale wasn't most mages. He’d mastered traveling through lightning as a teen.

"I'm fine," he replied, shrugging, like the almost impossible feat had been effortless.

Cat loved her brother, and knew that he loved her right back. But they'd never understood each other. He was a larger-than-life genius with too many gifts. Everyone in their family kissed his boots, even their aunt. They might be siblings, but they had little in common past their physical appearance.

"So, the message?" she asked. “A warning from Drusilla, I’d wager.”

She wasn't one for small talk, especially with him, and with a few hundred slayers at their doors, now wasn’t the time for it anyway.

Seth said, "Mine, Mother's, or Aunt Drusilla’s? You have a few different notes today."

"Yours first," Cat replied offhandedly, though it might have been wiser to pick their aunt’s message.

Drusilla was very strict about them calling her “aunt,” though she wasn’t.

Drusilla Stormhale was their great-great-great-great-great-grandmother, the head of the family. Everything she said had to take precedence.

"Mine is rather simple: don't."

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