Page 38 of Blood of a Huntsman

"It's not just a courtesy visit," she admitted. "I'm here because I have to tell someone. I think my family might be against us. Against Oldcrest."

Anika's brows lifted, and her jaw fell open.

"All right. Come in. I definitely need a drink for that conversation."

Cat walked in, following the professor through the beautiful gold and azure home modeled after Versailles.

No wonder. Anika's family was related to French royalty—the Bourbons and Beauforts were close cousins. Cat knew that most of her family still lived in the Loire Valley in a castle warded almost as well as the Institute.

Almost.

"How are they, by the way? Your family," Anika asked offhandedly, leading the way through the grandiose rooms.

Cat shrugged. "My brother texts occasionally. He's…well, he's Seth."

Anyone who'd ever met Seth would have understood.

Anika laughed. "No one was ever more aptly named. God of storm, chaos, disorder…"

Cat wished she could say something in defense of her elder brother, but the description fit—and given the fact that he had a was-scepter made for himself, he embraced the comparison.

"Well, he's causing chaos in Russia at the moment. Or was, last week."

"Good, good," Anika said.

They'd reached a large kitchen with copper pans and very sharp knives on display.

"And your sister?"

"We video chat," Cat said. "Not as often; she's still in Rome, and my family is keeping her busy. How about your siblings?"

"You know," the professor replied, opening a glass cabinet.

She pulled out a set of carved crystal martini glasses with a faint blue hue. Rather pretty, although a little too old-fashioned and girly for Cat's taste.

"What's your poison?"

Cat shrugged. "Anything, really."

"Come on, give me a challenge. I used to bartend for fun back in the day."

Now that was a surprise.

Every old vampire went through phases where their vocation felt tiresome, mundane. However much one might enjoy a task, doing it over and over for eternity sucked the passion out of it.

But a bartender? Cat wondered how many children of the seven ever did something so simple. She knew the Stormhales would never allow her to work in a bar.

But she and Anika were in very different positions. Cat was one of the youngest in her generation. Only five Stormhales were under a century old. Worse yet, she was the least powerful of those five. Anika was hundreds of years old and a master in combat. No one could tell her what to do.

Cat couldn't help a pang of envy.

"Surprise me."

"Ha! I knew I liked you. Take a seat."

She climbed on a barstool and watched Anika mix a drink with flair to show off her skills. Cat grinned as she watched the bottles fly, twist, and turn in the air and around Anika’s hands.

"So, you were saying? About your family."

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