Page 18 of What Fools These Immortals Be
“Did you ask her anything?”
“Of course,” Alwynn says, and when she sits back in her chair, the other hunter’s attention shifts to her. “But she was out of it, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” the hunter says. “We were just patrolling, me and Arty… She came out of nowhere. He knew something was wrong right away.”
And she’s lucky he did. I know of Arty; he’s one of the older hunters. He wouldn’t hesitate to stake a vampire actually out to kill him.
“And now?”
“She appears to be… coherent,” Alwynn says. “Whatever had come over her has worn off.”
Maurice shifts his weight behind me. He knows something about this—which I’ve suspected, again, since Briar’s report. There is little point in asking for details; his lips are sealed when it comes to the Hunt, which I am beginning to resent.
I am not without my own knowledge. “Did she seem intoxicated? As you might expect a drunk human to behave?”
Alwynn and the hunter exchange a look. “Yes,” Alwynn says slowly. “How did you…?”
“She ingested magic-laced blood,” I reply because Alwynn might never have seen that before, but I am well aware that some hunters have. “I am not certain why that would make her attack hunters, but I would wager it contributed to her actions.”
“That doesn’t get her off the hook, Njáll,” Alwynn says. “How did she get blood with magic in it in the first place?”
“That is for us to uncover,” I reply.
“Not if she fed from an unregistered donor, it isn’t.”
Alwynn crosses her arms over her chest, and I sigh. She’s not wrong, as much as I hate to admit it. There are so many rules surrounding how we feed and when we feed and who we feed from… And I understand very well why Vasile agreed to them—why all the chieftains, including myself, agreed to them back when the treaty was signed—but that does not mean I have to like them.
It does not mean they do not chafe from time to time.
“I understand,” I say, aware my voice is getting far too terse. “And if I catch a hint of any wrongdoing in that regard, I will let you know. But for now, I need to take my vampire back to her chieftain and ensure that this happens to no other member of the clan.”
“Fine,” Alwynn says. “Even ahint, Njáll. I will hold you to that.”
I do not doubt it. Her eyes are flinty when I nod; she will be investigating for herself. I am sure of that.
“How is Arty?” I venture as I stand.
The young hunter frowns. Alwynn gets to her feet, too. “He will be fine,” she says. “She caught him off guard, but he expects to be patrolling again soon.”
“Good,” I say.
I think I mean it.
We retrieve the vampire—when I ask, she timidly tells me her name is Samantha—and escort her back to the clan house. The entire journey, I feel I can see the wheels in Maurice’s mind turning.
Part of it may be that he is sitting up front with the driver. Not that I believe he prefers to sit next to me. No. But he does not like that I am alone back here with a vampire who attacked a hunter less than twenty-four hours ago.
It does not help that we learn nothing from her that we have not already heard from Briar. She remembers nothing. She does not know why she would feed from someone who is not a registered donor. She was not even planning to be out for the night; she had plans with another clan member to spend time together.
Afsaneh sweeps in and takes her away when we arrive. No doubt she will subject her to a much more intense and useful interrogation, though I doubt there is much Samantha knows at all.
“You have the same suspicions I do,” Maurice says quietly as we enter my office. He closes the door behind us and then leans back against it, watching me through hooded eyes.
The most frustrating thing about him is that he is impossible to read, and therefore impossible to get rid of. I know he has left the clan house on more than one occasion, but I never hear about it in time to leave myself.
And I need some time alone, now. I need to grapple with just what I have agreed to—with the fact that I have been breaking the rules for years and that if I do not do so again soon, I might lose my mind.
“You seem stressed,” Maurice says, instead of following up with whatever he clearly wished to say before. I shake my head and drop into the chair behind Vasile’s desk.
