Page 72 of Claim of Blood
But then the cleanup began—and the absurdity of it swallowed everything else.
The operation was nothing short of architectural. The first trolley groaned under plates, carafes, and enough empty mugs to stock a small café. The second carried what Leo could only describe as a museum of coffee paraphernalia—French presses, espresso cups, and several devices he couldn’t even identify but suspected were caffeine-delivery systems.
The third trolley was a monument to Oren’s more questionable habits: towers of energy drink cans, to-go cups from every coffee shop in PDC, and a paper trail of caffeinated excess rattling with every step.
As the procession passed, one particularly ambitious stack of saucers began its descent. A sharp-eyed servant—Leo’s newawareness identified him as a cat shifter—caught it midair with reflexes that suggested this wasn’t his first Oren cleanup.
Only when the door clicked shut behind the last trolley did Lander step closer to Oren’s desk, his casual posture not quite masking the fond exasperation in his eyes as he surveyed the wreckage.
“When’s the last time you hunted?” he asked, tone dry enough to suggest this conversation had happened before. “You’re looking rather pale.”
Leo glanced between them, puzzled. Pale? Oren’s complexion looked as healthy as Adam’s. But something in Lander’s voice made him look closer, past the surface, to a subtle hollowness in Oren’s expression.
“Hunting isn’t optional for our generation,” Lander continued when Oren merely grunted. “We can’t all be Adam, gliding through eternity on sheer stubbornness and ancient magic. One needs their vitamin D, after all.”
Leo snickered, earning a brief look of approval from Lander. Oren’s response was more subtle—the corner of his mouth twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile, or possibly mild digestive distress. With Oren, it was impossible to tell.
Another grunt, this one slightly more concessive. “Tonight.”
“Good,” Leo found himself saying, surprising both vampires and himself with the authority in his voice. “The Court needs its Head of Security at full strength. Especially now.” He gestured at the darkened screens, where evidence of their security breach waited to be examined.
Something flickered across Oren’s usually impassive face, perhaps approval—or maybe just acknowledgment of Leo’s unexpected shift from a claimed human to an active Court member. He reached for the controls, and the screens around them flared to life.
“Find anything?” Leo asked, moving closer.
“No.” The word carried layers of frustration beneath its neutral delivery. “Feed was looped. Professional work.” A pause, then, with the barest hint of grudging respect, “Almost missed it.”
Leo leaned in. “Show me the adjacent camera feeds. And the timing of the loop.” He glanced at Oren. “Hunters work in patterns. Even when they think they’re being unpredictable.”
Something shifted in Oren’s expression—not quite approval, but recognition. His fingers flew across the keyboard, and the monitors brought up multiple angles of the garden. The security feeds painted a digital tapestry of the estate grounds.
“There,” Leo pointed to a subtle flutter in one of the images. “That’s not wind. The trees are moving differently in the background.” He traced the pattern across several screens. “They weren’t just looping one camera. They were cascading the effect across the whole sector.”
“Clever,” Oren murmured, the single word heavy with implications.
Lander had drifted closer, watching the exchange with growing interest. Leo could feel the weight of his attention, steady and curious.
“We need to revise the entire surveillance grid,” Leo said, the words coming naturally. “Not just upgrade—completely rethink it. Hunters expect vampires to rely on technology.” He studied the garden layout. “The addition of shifter patrols helps. But my clan didn’t know about your alliance with the coven.” He traced a line along the property’s edge on one of the screens. “Emilia could set wards around Innsbrook. Early warning systems that would react to hunter-specific equipment. No one expects vampires to work with witches.”
“The wards would complement the existing security,” Leo continued. “Shifters can smell intruders, cameras can trackthem—but magic? Magic could tell us their intentions before they even cross the threshold.”
“Interesting.” The word rolled from Oren’s lips like a stone dropped in still water. His dark eyes fixed on Leo with newfound intensity. “Complications?”
“None I can think of,” Leo admitted. “Though I’m not sure what the coven would want in exchange.”
“Information,” Oren said, pulling up a new set of files. “Someone’s been hitting their warehouses in the Third Cat. The coven’s been petitioning the Court for vampire patrols.” His fingers traced a pattern of incidents across the district map. “We haven’t established a regular patrol presence outside Innsbrook since the nineteen-eighties. Not since the mob war.”
Leo straightened, feeling pieces click into place. “I can talk to Adam about it. A joint venture—wards in exchange for patrols. It benefits everyone.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Leo looked up to find both vampires watching him with peculiar expressions—Oren’s usual mask touched with something almost like approval, while Lander’s face had softened into an open smile.
“What?” Leo asked, heat creeping up his neck.
“It’s good,” Lander said quietly, “seeing you step into your role so naturally.”
The blush deepened. “Do I have the right to? I mean, suggesting Court policy...” The words trailed off as uncertainty crept in. He was a hunter—former hunter—who’d been here barely two weeks. What business did he have making decisions about vampire politics?
“Yes,” Oren said. “You stand second only to Adam now. His claim makes you his equal in Court matters.”
