Page 75 of Blood of a Huntsman

Seth laughed.

Only two women had ever dared. Claudia and Catharina. Blair made three.

Back in Rome, outside of the immaterial subconscious realm he'd entered, Drusilla's gaze focused on him.

He let go of the girl.

No matter. He would be in Oldcrest soon enough.

With most of the Stormhale warriors.

"Never again!"

Cat blinked. She'd just stepped out of the dorm, and now there was a very pissed-off witch, index finger extended, glaring at her threateningly.

"Sorry?"

"I will never go anywhere near that weird sicko's mind," Blair clarified, stuffing Cat’s diadem back into her hands.

Oh. Seth had…well, he'd been Seth.

Cat winced. "Oh God, what did he do?"

She shook her head. "I won't speak of it. I won't acknowledge it. It never happened."

Ouch. That bad. "Sorry. I didn't think he could affect you from a distance if you were just trying to connect us."

"Well, he can. Oh, and he gave me a message for you. He said he'd get in touch shortly. But that will not be through me."

On that note, Blair turned her heels and stormed toward the Institute.

Cat didn't think she'd ever seen the bubbly witch so angry. She shouldn't have been surprised; Seth had a gift for infuriating people like no one else could.

Cat made a mental note to ask her brother what he'd done to Blair. If they weren't on opposite sides of enemy lines the next time they met.

She headed to the printer to pick up the invitations; Mrs. Lowery had sent a raven to let her know they were ready. Then she headed back to the academy, following the narrow path to the birdhouse managed by the unpleasant witch in charge of in-house mail.

"What do you want?" Martie grumbled as she approached.

"I need to send messages."

The plump middle-aged man rolled his eyes. "No shit. How many, and to whom?"

Cat shrugged. "Everyone." Martie's eyes widened. She specified, "The teachers, the staff, the students, the employees in the town, and the shifters in the Wolvswoods, too." She opened her bag, but before reaching for the many invitations, Cat pulled out a money clip with a few twenty-pound notes. She removed the pin and handed him the notes.

Martie was a paid Institute employee, but people didn't generally ask him for so much. A little bribe wouldn't hurt.

Martie eyed the money suspiciously.

"That won't get the mail out any faster."

"Maybe not. And maybe my replies won't be accompanied by a curse or two."

He pocketed the cash.

"All right, then. Mail to everyone heading out."

Soon, the ravens flew back by the dozens. It was all anyone could talk about, and Cat was more popular than ever. People she’d never spoken to stopped her to thank her for the invite and promise to be there.

Cat had to admit: she hadn’t expected so much enthusiasm. It was the end of term, with most people planning to leave on Saturday morning. That they’d rearranged their schedules to attend her little get-together was humbling.

A line had always been drawn between her—them—and the rest of the Institute. Vampires were other, darker, stranger, deadlier.

But it was fading away with little effort.

Levi had been right, it seemed. They could be allies, some day.

Although Cat noted that none of the wolves replied.

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