Page 7 of The Huntress

“Freedom? Is that what you’re telling yourself?” Gabriel said in a softer tone. He loved his brother—which was why he’d followed him and begged Syl’s sire to convert him as well. They had to sweet talk the old vampire, but Gabriel couldn’t regret his decision; too many centuries had passed for remorse to play a role.

“This will be the last festival for the year, Gabriel. We need new blood, and increasing the frequency of these festivals from once a year to every second month hasn’t helped. The shifters are killing our people faster than we can convert.” There was a pleading note to Syl’s voice. “We are losing this war, brother.”

“That tells me we’re sending them to their deaths untrained,” Gabriel said.

“Told you.” Leo chuckled, receiving a glare from Syl for his interjection.

“If you distrust our trainers, perhaps you could revive your long-dormant fighting skills for a lesson or two?” Syl gave him a pointed look.

Gabriel grunted at having his bluff called. Yes, he could fight. Lacking his sire’s favor meant he’d had to fight to feed, for privileges, for mercy. Everything he owned, he’d earned, so he valued his privacy above all things. Now, however, the thought of fighting bored him. The initial rush had diminished into distaste. It was cyclical: the battles, the killing, the sex, and the feeding. Endless life had to have more purpose than this. Hope was once the sustenance he’d lived on, a warmth in his heart like the sun’s touch on his upturned face. Hope had rested with one woman—Abigail. Centuries ago, she’d torn his heart out with her words and disgust.

He released a slow breath, thrusting any thoughts and memories of her deep down, away from Leo’s prying mind.

“Fine. Then why so close to the Hold?” Gabriel leaned against the rough-hewn stone wall of his brother’s chambers.

Syl ruled the four vampire quarters in this city with diplomacy, which was unheard of for vampires. They weren’t the oldest, but due to Syl’s popularity and generous approach to ruling, he had loyal followers. They stood united against any older vampire wishing to usurp the throne. The added advantage of Leo made Syl’s reign nigh unshakeable. The quarter leaders liked and respected Syl. He didn’t demand obeisance nor tribute from them. He treated them as equals, as if they belonged to an elite club. Inspiring loyalty in his leaders meant no uprisings from any quarter, creating a united front.

“The police are monitoring the other sites, and since we’ve never used this location, it would mean a smoother festival. The marketing team is on it already. It promises to be an exceptional turnout.” Syl collapsed into his brown leather chair, resting his face in his hands with his elbows on his knees. The exhaustion rippled off him in almost tangible waves.

Gabriel frowned, concern rising to the fore. For a vampire to show this level of exhaustion meant he hadn’t slept for at least a month, or his feedings were irregular.

“How was the ball?” he asked.

“The usual. Although, it’s a pity you didn’t attend. A moment or two were entertaining.” Syl glanced at Leo with a smirk curling his upper lip.

Gabriel trailed his stare and frowned. What was that about? He wouldn’t outright ask Leo though, knowing how much he valued his privacy. Oh, the irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Regardless, I’m collecting the formula tonight,” Syl said. “We’ll need to plan accordingly.”

“I’ll make sure your subjects don’t realize you’re delayed,” Leo said.

At Leo’s statement, Syl turned his gray gaze on Gabriel. Shit. He knew what the pleading look meant, having succumbed to it on many occasions.

“No, I’m not participating. You know how I feel about these festivals, Syl.” Gabriel ground his teeth, fighting the roiling fury rising to choke him.

He hated how these events turned vampires into the predators of old, wild beasts without control. None of that was necessary, not with blood banks and the nightclubs, yet Syl insisted they continue.

“Damn it, Gabriel. These festivals keep you in supply.” Syl shot Leo a desperate glance.

But Leo couldn’t convince Gabriel to participate. Or could he? He arched a brow at his friend and received a shrug in reply.

“It’s not our only source, and I can hunt old school so don’t throw that at me. It’s a no, and I promise you, if anyone disturbs my sanctuary, I’ll retaliate,” Gabriel said.

Burning fire tightened his muscles as anger coursed through him. Each festival recycled the same discussion, and yet Syl refused to give up. Pushing away from the wall, he was more than ready to end this argument.

“Typical,” Syl muttered, glaring at Gabriel.

Syl’s anger and disappointment didn’t move him. It ceased to do that at least a century ago. “Be content with your victory, Syl.” His tone was as gentle as he could make it. “I’m letting you hold the festival on my land.”

“True.” Syl flashed an unexpected smile that made Gabriel’s heart swell with nostalgia.

His brother had always been the fun, charming one. Everyone around their farm knew who Sylvester was. The best de Winter son, according to them. Gabriel’s brooding countenance hadn’t endeared him to anyone. Still didn’t. He couldn’t complain though. It meant they left him alone, human, and otherworldly.

Chapter Four

AS EXPECTED

Callieshovedthelastbite of her hot dog into her mouth and grabbed her can of soda. She shrugged, hoping to convey her frustration but failing.

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