Page 119 of Winterfall Destiny

"Uh. Okay," I say as quietly as possible.

"But not far." I'm given a warning glance before Tobias switches back to Art. "Jared's more a bodyguard than an officer, Art" he explains with a smile. "One can never be too careful."

Art chuckles. "Bodyguard? Against our recruits? Most of this lot don't have power to match Dominion of your calibre. Yet."

"I'm pleased that we're discovering a healthy number of sympathisers," says Tobias.

"Yeah. Hemia practically beg to join," says Art. "They can see our powerful hemia leader equals a world where the race holds precedence."

I swallow down a scoff. Gabriella? Powerful? Not for long.

"Interesting," says Tobias. "And witch recruitment? How's that going?"

Art straightens. "You're aware we're struggling. We're working on numbers. If you're here to criticise our efforts, you can fuck off."

Whoa.

"Jared," says Tobias again. "Leave us." He turns to me, his back to Art, and adds quietly. "Your unusual presence is stronger in a small space. The distraction's interfering with me interfering in Art's mind. Stand just outside."

With a nod, I duck through the door away from Tobias and Ash and wait on the other side. I can't take part in the questioning, but I can listen to the answers.

I swear ninety percent of kids here are hemia, and a handful of witches who separated themselves towards the rear of the room. No shifters. This isn't an academy but there're clear cliques, and several groups gravitate around one guy in each.

As I'm someone who arrived and then spent time with Art, a few kids watch me with interest, and not all of that interest friendly.

I scratch a cheek, remaining hooded, unable to return the intense look from the black-haired guy at the central table, whose elbows stretch either side to widen his presence, even though the 'fuck off' attitude would work to keep people distant.

In the past, I'd struggle to figure out a hemia's age, but I can now pick his heartbeat out from the multiple ones around me. To my new ears, the room sounds full of clocks ticking, the majority of hearts at the pace of a younger hemia. A teen-looking guy beside him has a heartbeat that places him as twentieth century—not too old. This guy? Slightly quicker; the age of my academy friends.

What concerns me is a handful of the hearts beating in my ears were once human. Recently.

A girl with brown hair in a ponytail, and with sharp hemia features, wanders over and sits next to him. She whispers, cupping a hand around his ear. Those around her may not hear. I do.

"New witches are here." She jerks his head at Maeve and Jamie, who're surveying the room.

Shit. I cross my arms and feign a disinterested gaze at the opposite wall.

"Dumb fuckers," he says, accent local to south London. "The blood killed the last lot. I bet they're next."

"Why are witches always gifted before us?" complains another local-accented guy beside him.

"'Cause Dominion want witches to take the blood too."

"Yeah, but why a priority?" asks the girl.

"Fucking waste of blood," mutters the other. "Every drop that kills a witch is one less for a hemia."

I'm pissed off that I can't listen to both this conversation and Tobias's, choosing to focus on the vamps' derisive talk about witches, and their suspicions about why a dragon arrived.

Maeve speaks quietly to Jamie, and they move to stand close to an archway where others pass in and out—somewhere to slip through to should the pair need.

Our group discussed whether we all walk into this place, or some stay outside, in case not all are like Natalie, and some know names or faces. But we'd no choice, because if Gabriella is around, and we're surrounded by dozens of Dominion, we can't be apart.

I've no hint of Gabriella's presence yet, but as these catacombs stretch far beneath London, she could be further into the maze. I slide a look to the hemia top dog, who's continuing to stare as if I'm a piece of shit. I swallow down the urge to approach him and switch my focus to Maeve instead.

43

MAEVE

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