“Unhand me!” Bunce shouts. He does. She falls over. “You have to tell us—our friend is in danger!”
The white-haired woman (isshe a woman?) sits down again on the other side of the fire. “Needn’t must. You will do the telling.”
“Anything,” I say. “Anything you want to know.” I look over at Simon. He nods at me, like he’s all right. His hands are still tied. And his ankles. And his wings. But he’s fine.
“Tell Maggie why you’re here,” Shepard says, sitting down next to the woman by the fire.
I try to take charge; I’m the only one of the three of us with any tact. “We’re on holiday,” I say. “Wearetourists.”
“What about this friend?” Margaret demands.
“We were coming to see her—”
Bunce interrupts me: “We wanted to check on her, we were worried about her—and then she left a message for us yesterday saying she was with the NowNext. They’re going toextracther. You have to tell us—”
Snow has his chin thrust out. “Who areyou?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, willing them both to shut up. “You don’t have to tell us anything. We’ll go. We won’t come back.”
“You are the Next Blood,” she says to me, matter-of-factly.
“No. My blood is ancient. I’m from a very old family.”
She isn’t listening. “You.Are the hybrid.”
The Normal leans forward. I hate the way he looks at me, like I’m a safe he’s going to crack. “The NowNext,” he says, “some people call them the Next Blood—they’re trying to teach vampires to Speak.…”
“They’re doing what?” I’m flabbergasted.
“That’s an abomination!” Bunce says.
“Yes,” Margaret says, pointing at me. “Youare an abomination!”
“I’m not—that,” I say. “I’m a mage! I was bitten by a vampire as a baby!”
“Aha!” Shepard says, snapping his fingers like he’s just solved a riddle.
“No.” The woman looks repulsed by the idea. “Would have cast you out, would have fed you to dragons. This is mage law.”
“Yes, well, my mother was killed. The vampires killed her. There was no one strong enough to cast me out.”
“Not too late,” the woman says. “Dragons are still hungry.”
“He’s not a bad vampire,” Simon cuts in. “He doesn’t bite people. Just rats and deer and sheep—”
“Poacher!” she says.
“I’m sorry!” I plead. “I didn’t know the sheep belonged to anyone!”
“He’s sorry,” Shepard says. “I believe him.”
“Expects us to believe he is not the hybrid? When the whole world knows bloodeaters are mixing blood and magic?”
“How?” Penny asks.
The woman glares at us over the fire. “Don’t know. Nothing good. Darkness.”
“If the vampires can get magic,” Shepard says, “nothing will stop them. They’ll be the top of the food chain.”
