Page 60 of Bloodgrove

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.