Chapter 32
Frost crackled in the air of the season of cotton-candy skies and violet sunsets.
Will looked beyond the immense fence toward the black gables of the houses descending to the sea.
Bloodgrove seemed harsh beside the innocent beauty of the November twilight.
Down here between the buildings, darkness was gathering, and the twelve vampire hunters crowded closely around a gap in the fence.
Two of the iron bars concealed a mechanism that allowed them to be removed.
Saint appeared entirely unconcerned as he checked every knife, chain, and piece of armor once over.
A muzzle dangled from his belt beside a collar fitted with long, inward-pointing spikes.
Unlike most of the other vampire hunters, he was not here to kill but to capture.
Yet he was not the only one. Another rough-looking man and his two companions carried the equipment of vampire traders, and Will shuddered with disgust. That man sold them as slaves for dungeons like the one beneath the full-moon ball, or as sacrifices in rituals of the sort Elodie and Mr. Arcos performed.
Not that they were much better. Not that Saint was a saint when it came to his experiments.
“Last chance to turn back,” Saint said as the first hunters slipped through the opening.
Will shook his head, his hand tightening around the hilt of the rapier at his side. Elodie had guests tonight. She would not miss him. No one had noticed that he had helped himself to her collection of revolvers and swords or strapped on her throat and forearm guards.
“Then let’s go.” Grinning, the redhead climbed through the hole in the fence. Will went last, and behind him, a man on the outside replaced the bars. The mechanism locked with deadly finality.
“Good hunting!” called a woman at the front.
The others answered in chorus, and soon the group scattered.
Night spread its cloak over the harbor district, and beneath its protection, the shadows awoke. Will heard the first chittering cries and howls, like cats gradually stirring from sleep.
The streets lay silent. Fog crept across the cobblestones, and every house had bars over its windows all the way to the roof. To his horror, Will saw lights burning behind some of them, and human voices mingled with the howling of vampires.
“People live here?” Will breathed as he caught up with Saint.
“Of course. Where else are they supposed to go?” Even in the weak light, his unruly hair shimmered red, and his slender body hopped like a flea over a frozen puddle.
Will swallowed and looked around. “Why do they not leave the city and move toward the mountains?”
The young man sighed and glanced reproachfully over his shoulder.
“The work is here, and the mountains have monsters of their own. People learn to live with the vampires. ‘Be home before dark. Do not let anyone inside. Trust no one once night falls.’ But during the day… You should come sometime. Or perhaps not. The people here are in rather foul moods.”
Will held back his reply. He turned up the collar of his coat against the breeze blowing inland from the sea, carrying smoke from the chimneys. He missed tasting salt on his tongue instead of soot.
“Why are you trying so hard to help the duchess?” Saint asked. He was walking backward now, as though unafraid of the vampires that might be waiting around the next corner.
“Who else is fighting for her?” Will replied with a shrug.
Saint’s next question died when he saw something behind Will. He raised his pistol, aimed, and fired.
A dull impact sounded, and before Will could spin around, the vampire was already lying on the ground.
“Why?” Will gasped.
“Because we need to go deeper toward the harbor for you, where the old vampires live. This one was too young. The traders would be more interested in him. I will catch us an elder, and then you can question it.” As always, he spoke with the careless confidence of youth.
His steps skimmed lightly over the stones.
Deeper and deeper they went through districts that grew steadily quieter, descending farther toward the sea.
At times, they encountered groups of people gathered around fires, all armed with muskets and knives, strong enough in numbers to overpower the vampires.
Two corners later, vampires crouched over a shapeless body on the ground.
Their eyes lit up in Will’s lantern glow, but they decided the two men were not worth the effort and sank their teeth back into their victim.
Saint’s posture tightened when they reached the landing of another level.
Every window here was dark, and the walls were spattered with black stains.
Fog hung thickly between the streets, conjuring ghosts.
Will raised his revolver and immediately tripped over something.
His foot had caught in the bloodless carcass of a stray dog.
In the silence, he heard his blood roaring in his ears, and his fingers were clammy inside his leather gloves. Saint’s expression was solemn as he reached into the lantern, turned off the oil, and smothered the wick. He did not need to say that they were close to their destination.
The darkness became unbearable during the seconds it took Will’s eyes to adjust. Holding his breath, he stared along the street. Small houses lined the left side, most of their windows shattered. Warehouses stood to the right, heavily barred and locked.
Saint knew what he was doing. He had often hunted in this area.
They had met regularly over the past two weeks, and he had taught Will about vampires.
Even so, Will could only hope tonight that the skills he had painfully acquired in fencing lessons at the Academy would help him cut off a vampire’s head—should it come to that.
Only when Will drew another breath into his lungs did he smell salt in the fog, and a smile touched his lips. The sea roared as though it meant to come to his aid.
Suddenly, Saint stopped and pointed into the fog ahead.
Will had once again mistaken it for the wind, but now someone stood there: a child no older than ten. His feet were bare upon the freezing cobblestones, and a nightshirt fluttered around his knees.
No child wandered into this part of the city at this hour. Will waited, frozen. He could not shoot—not at a child.
The clatter of a can around the next corner broke the stillness. Even the vampire turned its pale face toward the noise. They waited another moment before three vampire hunters burst into view, swinging a net.
The child hesitated for a second, then darted away toward the harbor.
“After it!” Saint shouted, and together they raced behind the hunters. “It will flee to its nest. That is where we will find your elder!”
Their boots struck hard against the stones, the cold air cutting into Will’s lungs.
“The child is ours!” one hunter shouted.
Will clenched his teeth. The next time he had the opportunity, he would shoot. Death was better than being captured by those men.
They skidded around the next corner and entered the vast hall of a shipyard. Blocked by a hull, they lost sight of both the child and the hunters, and followed only the sounds of their footsteps.
A scream tore through the night, and Will nearly crashed into Saint. The young man had stopped abruptly, his gaze darting over the ribs of the unfinished ship, the black corners of the hall, and the side gate opening onto the harbor beyond.
“It is a trap,” he whispered, nodding toward the gate.
This time, their footsteps were quiet, swallowed by fresh screams and gunshots.
“Should we not help them?” Will asked quietly.
“Anyone who passes through the gates at night gets no rescue. We have committed ourselves to death, and until we return, no help will come.” For the first time, Saint’s face hardened enough for his cruelty to show through.
Silently, they left the shipyard through a rear exit, and Will stopped. Before him stretched the black ocean, a dark, living mass licking at the sea wall and glittering with stars beneath the moonless sky. White foam danced upon the waves, stirred by the cold breeze, and Will breathed in.
Memories came to him of nighttime walks along the beach with his father. Back when his father had not yet grown estranged from his son, when they had walked hand in hand across the sand, and he had explained the stars to him.
“How unexpectedly beautiful,” Will said. “Perhaps you could bring me here during the day sometime.”
But Saint did not answer. The sea lapped quietly against the pier, and in the distance, vampires howled.
“Saint?” Sudden panic seized him, and Will spun around.
The harbor was empty. Where Saint had stood moments before, tiny droplets of blood glittered.
“Saint!”
Farther away, he glimpsed movement—figures disappearing behind a warehouse. Without thinking, Will sprinted toward them and cocked his revolver. He skidded through the freezing mist and slammed into a brick wall when he took a corner too quickly.
Furious, he shook his head. No rescue might be the hunters’ creed, but he would not simply abandon Saint, especially when Will felt they were here only because of him.
He had trusted the young man because he spoke with such confidence.
After all, Will had assumed everyone in this city was forced to grow up too quickly.
But in the end, he was still only a boy who had barely reached adulthood.
His cruelly innocent face showed hardly any beard, and with his long arms and legs, he had not yet quite grown into the man he would become.
The sounds of fighting came from inside a warehouse. The gate stood open by a narrow crack, the chain on its lock torn apart. Will drove his shoulder into it and pointed his revolver toward the darkness.
He recognized the outlines of a dismantled fish market. Starlight filtered through windows in the roof, scarcely enough to illuminate the shadowy figures. Screams echoed from the walls, and somewhere within the chaos of writhing shapes was Saint.