Page 56 of Blood of a Huntsman

Old Blood

"Isuppose we'd better not delay this conversation any longer," Levi told Cat, who concurred. "Luke, cover the rest of her shift."

The assistant nodded.

"If Chloe is staying on the hill for the rest of the night, I'll cover the boy's shift."

Bash might have taken offense at being called a boy if it hadn't come from a creature quite as old and intimidating as Mikar. Besides, he had to admit he would have hated to finish his shift and miss what Catherine had to say.

Shit. He still had a hard time believing his eyes. To him, magic had always been logical. He'd studied it, and could understand the basics as well as any huntsman could. But there had been no logic to what he'd just seen. No rule or law. Only power. Infinite power.

They walked up the hill in silence, slowly, to accommodate Greer's pace. Levi led the way with Chloe, and Catherine and the witch followed close behind while Bash brought up the rear.

Greer stopped in front of the Beaufort house, watching the damage Catherine had caused the previous night. She looked at the storm mage.

"Damn, woman."

Catherine shrugged. "I couldn't have taken on Anika in hand-to-hand combat on my best day. Drunk, I had no choice. So, magic. I don't think she expected that from me. If she heard details about me from my family, they would have told her I'm weak."

Bash snorted. What he'd witnessed the previous night and seen just now against Greer's shields, along with everything he'd seen from her since they met, said raw strength. Control like he could only dream of.

In his mind, vampires like him were monsters. Trying to reconcile himself with what he was now was nigh on impossible when every glance in the mirror, every breath he took, every unguarded thought reminded him of his desire for fresh blood.

He'd never hurt anyone. Even as a feral, thanks to his friends drugging and chaining him. He had crossed no lines, the rational part of him acknowledged that. He'd come close with Maddy, but Catherine had saved him. He was doing his best. Would a monster try that hard? Probably not.

But ridding himself of his beliefs, of the knowledge he'd taken for granted his whole life, was no small feat. Telling himself he was anything other than a freak had implications he wasn't sure he was ready to face.

Because if a bloodsucker desiring blood—and trying to hunt a poor wounded girl—wasn't evil, then who was?

Catherine was no different. She'd either been told or convinced herself that she was weak. And she wasn't ready to hear otherwise.

An ocean existed between facts and beliefs. And to cross it, they had to voluntarily take the jump.

When they reached the mansion, Levi headed up the grand staircase. Bash had never gone upstairs until today. Actually, he’d barely spent any time outside of the study where he'd been turned. Following the master of the house, they climbed two flights of stairs and reached a floor that didn't even seem to be part of the same house.

It looked…simple. Wooden flooring, cream walls with modern paintings—a superhero in flight to the right, a fairy in psychedelic tones on the left. The space was entirely open, with an alcove separating the large bedroom from the study-library area, music corner with instruments, and a large elevated platform with marble flooring and a sauna.

The height of modern comfort and minimalistic design. White furniture, nice beige rugs.

Levi removed his suit jacket and hung it on a hook at the entrance of his living space.

"Excuse the mess," he said.

The bed was unmade, and a couple of mugs sat on the coffee table, but the room didn't look messy as much as lived in.

"You should see Catherine's room," Bash replied.

That earned him a punch on the shoulder. He laughed as the vamp glared at him.

"Take a seat. Tea, coffee, wine, brandy, rum, vodka?"

"Sounds like an epic cocktail. Can you mix it all?" Chloe asked.

Everyone grimaced, none more than Catherine. "After yesterday, I've had a lifetime's worth of cocktails, thank you."

"Ah! Anika mixed you some magic, did she?" Levi asked, heading to his wooden bar between the bed and study. "Shame it was addled. She's quite a good bartender."

"It tasted lovely, but I'll still pass."

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