Chloe couldn’t decide whether she was giddy or horrified at her conduct. She hadn’t just acted like an immature, spoiled brat; what shocked her was not feeling like she was in control. She hadn’t consciously chosen to say any of the crap that had spewed out of her mouth. Chloe had wished she could blame someone else, something else inside her. Her symptoms sounded too much like schizophrenia. Should she speak to someone about it?
She reached the hall and found it mostly empty; one lesson had ended twenty minutes ago, and the next bell had already rung. She stilled. There was no one around her at all, but it truly felt as if someone was watching her. She glanced outside at the already dark sky; night fell at four-thirty in this part of the world.
She could see the courtyard littered with training witches and sparring huntsmen. Chloe surprised herself, realizing how much she envied them.
She loved practically everything about this place, and part of her wished she truly belonged here. But she didn’t. As soon as she finished her studies, she’d leave it behind. Join a finance firm somewhere. Maybe a bank. A week ago, that would have sounded like a considerable improvement over her situation. Now, she couldn’t imagine a more boring fate.
Remembering that Gwen was waiting for her in the cafeteria, she crossed the entry hall and walked in.
Chloe smiled when she saw Gwen chatting away with some of the hunters they’d hung out with the previous day; she surprised herself by remembering their names—Natalie, Tris, Chris, Bat, and Jack, of course.
She picked up a plate of lasagna and a salad before joining them.
‘Here’s our Cheetah.’
‘All right, anyone have another nickname submission? I accept applications, please.’
‘Doll-face?’ Natalie proposed.
‘Angel cheeks,’ said Bat, chewing on a mouthful of his burger.
Chloe sighed as she sat down. ‘You all suck at this. How about you stick to my actual name?’
‘No way,’ said Chris, shaking his head for good measure. ‘Huntsmen go by nicknames. It’s a thing.’
There were nods all around the table, except from Gwen, who was too busy laughing at her.
‘Good thing I’m not a huntsman, then. Huntswoman? Is that a thing?’
‘It should be,’ Natalie grumbled. ‘But no. The order is too old to not have a few sexist attributes. But the head of the entire order is a woman, so there’s that.’
From the corner of her eye, Chloe saw Jack stiffen.
‘Really?’ Gwen said, eyes wide. ‘I mean, witch covens are often matriarchal, because women tend to have stronger magic, but I definitely didn’t expect that from huntsmen.’
‘Throughout our history, we’ve had three hundred and seventy-four high guard—as we call them. Three hundred and seventy were men. The four exceptions are the most badass human women this world has known. And one of them is his mother.’ Tris pointed to Jack, who remained entirely stoic and silent.
Ah. There was a story there.
Deciding she’d exceeded her daily quota of nosiness, Chloe stuffed a bite of lasagna in her mouth and chewed slowly to stop herself from asking him an intrusive question.
Gwen didn’t.
‘How does your ego deal with having a mother like that?’
Jack’s glaring game was almost as strong as Levi’s. ‘Just fine, thank you.’
Tris snorted. ‘By ‘fine,’ he means he lives in another continent so he doesn’t have to report to her directly.’
Jack chucked his knife right at her. She caught it effortlessly and threw it back before returning to sipping her tea. The entire exchange lasted under a minute.
‘Do you guys often throw sharp things at each other?’ Chloe asked.
If so, perhaps they shouldn’t make a habit of eating with them.
‘Just those two. It’s fine, they’re cousins.’
Apparently being related gave them leave to attempt murdering each other without cause. Good to know.
‘Don’t sweat it, Cheetah. Even if Jack shot wrong, Tris will always catch her knife and never miss a shot. She’s a fledgling.’
Chloe lifted a brow. She’d heard that word three times, the first two to describe her.
‘A born vampire?’ she asked, remembering Gwen’s explanation.
Tris beamed. ‘My dad’s from one of the founding seven, so he can, you know, have kids. My parents aren’t putting any pressure on me to turn. I figured I’d wait until I look old enough to have beer in any country before freezing my face.’
Fascinated, Chloe asked, ‘Can I bore you with a thousand questions?’
The girl shrugged. ‘Shoot.’
Holy shit, where did she start? ‘Do you drink blood?’
Tris shook her head after a moment of hesitation. ‘Well, I don’t need to—yet. But over the last few years, I’ve definitely preferred my steak blue. And tartare is life. Dad says if I get to a point where blood smells like candy, I need to turn. Or go insane, one of the two.’
Holy shit. Could she write a book about this?
‘That’s pretty awesome, in a rather gruesome way. So, are you different from us in any other way?’
Tris tilted her head, giving the question a moment of thought. ‘I don’t know. People are very different from one individual to the next. I’m faster than most people, but Jack beats me. Some fledglings have magic, or an affinity with animals, or even the ability to charm people, like actual vampires. My thing is weapons.’
Her grin had a slightly alarming edge.
‘What weapon?’ Gwen asked.
Chloe wasn’t surprised when Jack replied, ‘Every weapon. She grabs it, she knows how to use it. It’s incredibly frustrating.’
‘You love me, really.’
Jack smiled at his cousin. Chloe hadn’t been sure she liked the guy until then, but that smile? It explained why she’d been intrigued enough to go on his race, why his confession about putting her in danger hadn’t entirely infuriated her.
Suddenly, she realized something: although he didn’t compete, the reason he ran with the rest of the huntsmen was to ensure no one got in trouble.
The guy was marshmallow wrapped in steel. All soft inside. He cared about his cousin; he cared about his men and women.
‘Hey, are you guys doing another race? I think I could totally use the cardio,’ said Gwen.
Looking surprised, Jack glanced at Chloe, who shrugged. She’d just verbally sparred with an ancient vampire. What was a little huntsman race?
‘Sure. Next weekend. This week is pretty light; the teachers are just reminding us where we were last year while you newbies get a feel for the classes. After next week, trust me, we’ll need to unwind.’
‘Awesome. Can we tag in?’
‘Sure thing. It’s going to be at the Coscnoc, mid-day.’
‘Coscnoc?’ Chloe repeated.
‘The third hill,’ said Tris. “It’s forbidden without an escort because there are some major hexes and traps, but Jack got the all-clear for a paintball race. It’s gonna be sick.’
Sick sounded about right. ‘Hexes and traps?’ she echoed, feeling like a parrot.
Tris shrugged. ‘It’s just around the caves. We’ll mark the area.’
That sounded mildly less threatening than a bunch of angry werewolves.
‘All right. Let’s do it.’
