Page 64 of Blades and Bone

Garrick was speaking with Hamish in the lounge room, their voices low murmurs like the rumble of the ocean against the sand.

He should be curious, but he couldn’t be bothered moving.

Chapter Thirty

Hamish sat on the floor, unable to move even though he needed to. Garrick walked back into the living room, face grim, much the same as it had been during the raid on the Orlan house in Albany.

“You need to leave the room so I can finish off.” Garrick pulled a garrote out of his pocket and kneeled next to the man.

Finish off was such a polite way to say kill. He was surprised that Garrick hadn’t told him to do it and then clean up while he did more important stuff.

“Hamish,” Garrick said. “Go to the bedroom.”

“What happens next?” He wasn’t sure he could get up.

“I will sweep the resort to make sure there’s no one lurking, locate Felix and the missing cook and guard, and liaise with the others to come up with our next move. For the moment, acting as if nothing is going on is key.” He looped the wire around the man’s throat. The vampire struggled against his bonds and the gag in his mouth. “You don’t need to be here for this.”

“I can help.”

“By leaving.” Garrick held his gaze.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” Garrick sighed. “But this isn’t your responsibility. Let me deal with it.”

The bound vampire grunted and strained, the same way he had when Hamish had cut off his clothes. There were red scratches all over his skin where Hamish had cut him. There were smears of vampire blood on Hamish’s hands. He should wash them.

By the time he’d washed them, the evidence of the attack would be gone. Even his arm was healing—by dawn there’d be nothing more than a pink scar, though he should probably avoid the sun as he’d had far too much blood.

“I’ll wash my hands.”

“Good idea.” Garrick nodded.

Hamish forced himself to stand and walk away without looking back. He knew what was going to happen. Brodie was waiting in the bedroom, sitting on the bed.

Hamish shut the door. “It will be safe in a moment.”

Brodie nodded. “Then we wait.”

“Maybe the Orlans will make another move. Felix might turn up…” his voice caught. Ever since he’d found out that Felix was missing, he’d been trying not to think about it because there was only one answer. Felix was dead or dying, and Ann would not lift a finger to save him. Even he recognized they didn’t have enough people on the ground to do anything. Ann and Elizabeth barely had enough protection with only Garrick and Lincoln left.

And now they didn’t know which Ashbys they could trust.

They didn’t even know how many unaffiliated or unblooded vampires worked at the resort. Not only that, but there was a small chance, a very small chance, that some of the human staff had been ensorcelled.

“Hey, I’m sure…” Brodie let the sentence die. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect good news.”

“Same. It’s just easier to hope that he’s doing something. Maybe he caught someone trying to break in and is dealing with them. Or maybe he’s hurt, and it’s taking him time to make his way back…it’s better…less final.” Hamish slid down the door and rested his elbows on his raised knees. “I’m so sick of dealing with this shit.”

He closed his eyes, wanting to go back to the day he made the decision to be blooded. He wanted to tell himself not to be such a fucking idiot, that he wasn’t more valuable with fangs; he was just more useful to the family. They didn’t care about him more…they would care about him less because he was expected to sacrifice his life for the family. And while he’d thought that meant death, not marriage, it was the same thing because he couldn’t go back to how things had been.

Even though he had known what was required of him once blooded, he’d still done it because he’d wanted his mother to be proud of him and for the people he admired to respect him more.

It was only after the horrible process, one he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy, that he realized people like Garrick wouldn’t change their opinions. And people like his mother… It didn’t matter what he did, it would never be enough, and he would always be less than for not being a woman to carry the bloodline.

Brodie was silent.

He hadn’t asked to deal with this shit either, and his family was far less qualified to be dealing with the Orlan kind of trouble. He was pretty sure that Brodie and his brothers could take a failing business and turn it into something profitable—the Ashbys had been spinning straw and turning it into gold since they arrived over two hundred years ago—but along the way they had lost or forgotten to teach the next generation how to fight and how to ensorcell.