And it doesn’t, either, when I see Bel sitting on the sofa, one arm casually thrown over the back of it. He says something thatmakes Njáll pause and shake his head before he takes a glass from the side and hands it over.
Bel accepts the drink, sipping it slowly as Njáll rounds the sofa and sits next to him. They lean close together and, oh, I’m not a fool. From the way Njáll reacted when I touched him, I don’t think he’d so easily move on to another, and I know that Bel is far more observant than he lets on.
No, no. They’re not lovers. But I still feel that envy. Thatlonging, that they have each other, in whatever capacity that might be, and I am… here. Outside, looking in.
Maybe that is why the others have partnered up, partnered off. Why Vlad turned Grant, even knowing that the Huntsman might take him away immediately. It was easier to ignore this feeling when I was alone in Scotland because seeing humans living their fleeting lives is hardly comparable.
I climb down even slower and drive my little car over to the Wild Hunt’s base. The scene plays over and over in my mind. I cannot leave the Hunt. To leave the Hunt would be to abandon my magic, and I cannot do that.
I will get over Njáll. I will.
Grant is thankfully not present when I arrive at the house—I do not want to answer what I am certain would be a barrage of questions—and Vlad takes one look at me and gestures at the stairs. “I will have more jobs for you tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
I start to make my way up the stairs, but Vlad’s hand on the banister stops me. “The Huntsman is coming, too,” he says quietly, and dread pools in the bottom of my stomach. “He called half an hour ago. He wants to talk to you.”
“He—He didn’t…” I fumble my phone out of my pocket, still unused to it. No missed calls. He hasn’t tried to call me.
Vlad only nods in answer, both eyebrows raised as thoughhesomehow knows what I was doing earlier tonight.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll be here.”
I hardly sleep through the day, consumed by thoughts of Njáll and the Huntsman—and then, confusingly, both of them when I doze. The Huntsman has not arrived by the time I get out of bed for the evening and dress, and I pace the living room as Grant sits on the sofa, turning the pages of a book.
“What do you think he’s going to do to you?” he asks, and I falter mid-step, more confused when I look over and Grant is still staring at whatever page he’s on.
“I—Sorry?”
“The Huntsman?” Grant asks. His gaze flicks up, taking me in with a single sweep. “Whatdoeshe do to you?”
“Nothing.” Nothing yet. But he could take my blessing, and with that, my magic. My purpose.
“I don’t believe you.”
I’ve not known Grant for long, of course, but I have never seen him as serious as this. I gave in when I came here a week ago and asked him to show me some things on my phone. He understood the gravity of our changing situation—I have no doubt that Vlad explained some of it to him—but he still cracked jokes in between showing me how to do everything.
“Why not?”
Grant shifts on the sofa, the book still in his grasp but forgotten. “Because Vlad…” He glances at the door that leads out into the hall. Vlad is still upstairs, and I can hear the low rumble of his voice on the phone. “Vlad had to see him after he made me a vampire,” he says, his voice hardly above a whisper, “and I’ve not seen him as worried since.”
I’m surprised he can even remember and consider that Vlad really was telling the truth about Grant’s complete lack of bloodlust. “Vlad will be fine,” I say because maybe that’s what he’s worried about—Vlad is handing out assignments, and though I completed last night’s job, Grant can’t know I went to the clan house afterwards.
“I know that,” Grant says with a scoff that is not like him at all. “Areyougoing to be?”
“I—” I begin, but I don’t get to answer because I feel a pulse of magic that signals the Huntsman’s arrival. Grant sits up straighter on the sofa. Upstairs, Vlad’s voice falls silent.
The Huntsman knocks on the door. Grant looks at me once before he gets to his feet. “I’ll get it.”
Vlad trails them both through to the living room, already looking exhausted, though he should have managed to getsomesleep today. The Huntsman surveys all three of us, his face grave.
“Leave us.”
Vlad takes hold of Grant’s arm, tugging him from the room, and before the door to the hall shuts, I hear Grant protesting that he’s left his book behind.
The Huntsman shakes his head. “I told you, Maurice. I told you that job was done.”
“I know it is.”
