Page 35 of Blood of a Huntsman

An Unfamiliar Space

The scent of the classroom was far worse than the courtyard, where the fresh air had diluted the smell of blood. Though the room was large, the smell was a lot more condensed, especially after Crane closed the door.

The first few breaths were hard. His fist tightened, and he trembled, concentrating just to remain seated. Part of him, the dark voice whispering at the back of his mind, was assessing the people around him, seeing them as prey.

The huntsmen's presence helped. Tris had a knife or two in her sleeve, and wouldn't hesitate to throw it at him if he messed up. That alone was enough to reel in the frustrated beast.

Bash opened his satchel and pulled out a blood bag. Then he stilled, realizing he was just opening the first out of twelve he stored in the refrigerated bag.

Damn.

He took a sip, and his shoulders dropped, his breathing deepened.

He could do this.

After a three-month break, suffering through Crane's lesson might have resulted in a headache if not for his new abilities. Instead, Bash found that his mind was soaking in every word and coming up with a thousand questions. And, unbelievably, forgetting about the thirst.

Dammit. He was going to have to thank Catherine fucking Stormhale and let her say a big fat "I told you so."

"Still good?" Tris asked him with a sunny smile as she put away her notebook.

Bash noted that he’d never bothered pulling his out. He remembered Crane’s each and every word. Each graphic and date and number.

Somehow, his brain wasn't even exploding.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I have Literature. You?"

"Break until Spells tonight. I'll just go back to…" Levi's. He was about to say Levi's. His refuge. He could ask Chloe for news about her ancestor, and read another book, maybe train with someone. But after a moment, Bash decided against it. "The dorm."

He had an empty room he barely recognized, unpacked suitcases to sort out, and a life to rebuild.

Bash organized his stuff, dusting the top of his laptop before starting it up and signing in to the Institute's archives, a website he'd barely explored since the start of his studies. He'd only logged on to submit assignments to the professors who accepted electronic documents. The older immortals had a thing for paper.

He navigated awkwardly until he found Crane's archives, then searched keywords related to his assignment and groaned. Dammit. There were thousands of pages. At least his reading speed had increased.

Bash flew through seven of the hundred and ninety-three documents containing the term “environment” before realizing that notes weren't the worst idea. He had a much better memory now, but the more he tried to store in his mind, the more jumbled and confusing everything became. He wrote down chapters and pages, and put the information right out of his consciousness, storing it in the list of things he could ignore. He was functioning like a computer, storing data on an external drive to avoid lag. A creepy notion, but now that he'd admitted it to himself, he found his task considerably easier.

Lifting his head to the window, Bash noticed that night had fallen. He looked at the time. Nine. After a moment of consideration, Bash set an alarm clock for eleven-thirty before returning to his task. It wouldn't do to miss his sentinel shift with Catherine.

Catherine Stormhale. She was always at the edge of his mind these days. When he thought about blood, he imagined her challenging him. When he didn't think about blood, he remembered that he owed that little bit of sanity to her. Bash saw she could easily become an obsession.

That kiss…

Yeah, he wasn't going there.

Bash's phone startled him, thankfully stopping his train of thought.

A video chat from Emilia.

"Hey, is everything all right?"

She didn't usually call out of the blue.

"Yep, I just wanted you to know that Paul has his first solo assignment."

Holy shit. That was big. Solo assignments were always easy, a quick trip down to the nearest coven to ask about a report of mistreatment. Nothing came of it, usually. But Bash remembered his. He'd been all red throughout the entire ordeal, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

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