Page 4 of The Falconer

Responsibility, I remind myself.Family. Honour. Damnation.

I reply to Lord Hamilton’s question with a simple, ‘Of course.’

He smiles again. I feel sorry for him, for all of them. They think I’m the only monster in their midst, but the real danger is the one they can’t even see. Faeries select their victims and compel them with a small push of mental influence, then feed from them and kill them.

Five minutes. That’s all I need to find the creature and shoot a capsule into its flesh. Only a little time unobserved to—

I grip Lord Hamilton’s hand hard. I’ve been out of society so long, and the hunt has become second nature. I have to hush my barbaric thoughts or I’ll act too soon and lose myself. My etiquette lessons repeat in my mind.The daughter of a marquess does not charge out of a ballroom. The daughter of a marquess does not abandon her partner in the middle of a dance.

The daughter of a marquess does not hunt faeries.

‘—don’t you agree?’ Lord Hamilton is asking, pulling me back into the dance.

I shake myself. ‘Of course.’ I actually manage to sound reassuring.

Lord Hamilton pats my wrist and I grit my teeth against a violent response as we circle another couple.

The strathspey seems to go on for ever. Left foot hop, right foot back, left foot into second position. Instep, third position. Right knee bent, second position. Over and over again. The music doesn’t register any more; it has become a background of screeching strings, and the dance is only halfway over.

My hand brushes the side of my blue silk dress, right over the spot where my lightning pistol is hidden. I envision myself hunting in the corridors, taking aim—

Calm, I tell myself. I study the fine details of the room again, the mosaic lanterns that continue to float over our heads. Above them are the clicking brass cogs and wiring along the edge of the ceiling, all of it connected to New Town’s electricity system.

I focus on the clicks, on mentally reciting my lessons. Propriety.Click. Grace.Click. Smile.Click. Kill.Click.

Hell and blast.

The fiddles screech on. Lord Hamilton says something else and I manage to smile and give a non-committal nod.

I try again. Politeness.Click. Modesty.Click. Civility—

At last the music stops, and I turn to Lord Hamilton. He offers his arm without comment and leads me to the perimeter of the ballroom. I eye the door again.

‘I say,’ Lord Hamilton murmurs, ‘where is Miss Stewart? I shouldn’t leave you alone.’

Thank heavens Catherine is nowhere to be seen. She is one less person I have to excuse myself from.

‘You’re forgiven,’ I say in that charming voice I hate. ‘If I might beg your pardon, I must take my leave to the ladies’ parlour for a few minutes.’ I touch my temple lightly. ‘A headache, I’m afraid.’

Lord Hamilton frowns. ‘Tch, how dreadful. Do allow me to escort you.’

Once we reach the double doors that exit into the hallway, I stop and smile. ‘There’s no need for you to leave the ballroom, my lord. I can find the parlour on my own.’

‘Are you certain?’

I almost snap at him, but force myself to breathe deeply and regain some composure. My desire to hunt is pounding, unrelenting. If it consumes me, politeness won’t deter me. I’ll want nothing but blood and vengeance and release.

I swallow. ‘Indeed.’

Lord Hamilton doesn’t appear to notice a change in my behaviour. He simply smiles, bows from the waist and pats my wrist again. ‘Thank you for the pleasure of your company.’

He turns to leave and I step into the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief.At last.

As I tiptoe down the corridor, away from the ballroom and the ladies’ parlour, my mouth tingles when the faery power returns. My body is growing more used to the taste after its initial violent response, and I recognise the particular breed it comes from. A revenant.

I have only ever killed four revenants, but never on my own, so I haven’t yet grown as accustomed to the potent taste of their power as I have to that of the other breeds of fae I kill more often. In my limited experience, they have three vulnerabilities: an opening along the thoracic cage, just over the left pectoral; an abdominal cavity with a slight soft spot in otherwise impenetrable skin; and rather sub-par intelligence.

Revenants make up for their weaknesses with solid muscle, which makes them difficult to kill. Then again, I do love a challenge.

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