Page 79 of The Enemy to the Living
Asher
“Idunno,”Grantsays,shiftingaround on the sofa. “You just seem… happier.”
I’ve been at the base all night. I was half-tempted to ignore Quinn’s request and go wait around outside Mischief & Mayhem anyway, but I want to start things off better than that.
As it is, waiting for him to text me and tell me he’s done is becoming more and more difficult the closer we get to sunrise.
“Nothing’s changed,” I say, and Grant gives me a flat, disbelieving look.
“Don’t come the old soldier over me.”
I blink. “What?”
He scowls and roots around in the small pile of books on the floor next to the sofa. When he finds the one he’s looking for, he throws it at me.
I catch it with a faint grunt. He’s still not used to his strength. “Victorian slang again, is it?”
“Who said I ever gave it up in the first place?”
Maurice is off interrogating vampires, Jeremiah and Paxton having opted to join him. Vlad is lurking somewhere around the house. He hasn’t asked me any more about Quinn, and there’s really nothing to talk about until Maurice and the others let us know if there’s more information we need before tomorrow night.
It means it’s just me and Grant in here for now. I opt to change the subject.
“What about you? You seem better than you did the other day.”
Grant frowns and shrugs. “I’m fine.”
“Are you?” I push thoughts of Quinn out of my mind and turn all my attention to Grant. I think we neglect him a little, and I don’t want to do that. He might be Vlad’s turn, but he’s part of the Hunt, whether he knows it or not.
Whether the Huntsman knows it or not.
“Yeah. You know. All good.”
“Grant.” I use the same tone I would on unruly pups back when—Well. It works all the same. Grant’s gaze jerks up, eyes wide. He smiles, though, and I don’t know why.
“Really, it’s fine. Every so often, I just feel… sad, I guess. I know things are different for me.”
“Because Vlad turned you?”
“Yeah, I think so. I know most vampires experience bloodlust just for the first few decades. I asked Vlad about it, but he wouldn’t tell me, so I asked Maurice a few weeks ago.”
“What did he say?”
“That we do. That it is unusual that I haven’t.”
“Does he know why?”
“No, and I’m not really that bothered about it,” Grant says, and I think he’s only half-lying. “I tried to put it into perspective. I’m sad that all my—all the people I cared about are out there still. They’re living their lives, and they don’t have any idea what happened to me. I want to go see them, but I know why that’s impossible.”
“It’s inadvisable, but maybe—”
“No. I can’t. But I’m grateful for what I have. If Vlad hadn’t turned me, I’d be dead for real.Deaddead.” He casts a mulish glance at the door that leads out to the front hall and the stairs. “But I wish he’d stop treating me like I’m made of glass. I won’t break that easily.”
I open my mouth to say something pithy, then stop as I take Grant in. My own transition to the Hunt was difficult enough—losing my wolf, struggling to control my blessing, forging a path with no pack—but I can’t imagine what it was like for him. Out of all the Hunt, I spend the most time with Vlad, and I didn’t meet Grant for almost a year after he was turned.
He faced the Huntsman as a fledgling. He stays cooped up in this house because Vlad fears what might happen to him if not. He has no life outside of us, and we’re all kind to him, but we haven’t tried to make him one of us, either.
“No, you won’t,” I say, startling him if the brief, wide-eyed look he gives me is anything to go by. “Once this is done with the twins, we’ll train you up. If more high fae are coming through the veil, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
