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Fenring, one of the fresh vampires who’d been staying with him. Cassia had been right to scold Bastian for not registering Fen and the others quickly enough, but he’d never entertained the notion any of his vampires, fledgling or ancient, were behind the unfortunate end of Claude Rincewind.
There was no joy in the present validation.
Bastian felt a stab of melancholy at the sight of his brother lying in terror in the last moments of his undead life. He could intervene and wanted to. Fenring was precocious and silly, words no one had used to describe Bastian in a great many years, and the boy had brought fresh life to his estate.
That brazen, foolish wolf, Silvan, would have roared into the tableau, teeth gnashing, blood coursing, and he would have died for his recklessness. The creatures beneath the cloaks could only be preternaturals, but what kind, what strength… ahh, one could only discoverthatwhen it was too late to turn back.
Bastian accepted, with a sinking heart, his role that night was to bear witness so that others might be saved.Forgive me, Fenring. There will be vengeance when the time is right.
The last thing he would do for Fenring was not to turn away when the screaming vampire’s heart was carved crudely from his chest. He watched, teeth gritted, hands closing into soft fists, memorizing every horrifying second of Fenring’s final moments.
The undead army suddenly swarmed in from the forest from all sides. They streamed past Bastian—notseeinghim at all, which was odd, very odd—and came to a stop just beyond the altar as though awaiting direction.
Bastian straightened, recovering from the small fright. If they hadn’t seen him, there was a reason. A good one. Nothing was incidental about anything happening on Mar Island that night, and he’d be a fool to fall into the trap of believing otherwise.
He’d seen the undead soldiers before, though these were different. How… why? Neither answer was clear, but one thing was certain. Such creatures could not be created except from the desiccation of other creatures. Otherpreternaturals.
Fenring’s cries halted. One of the figures raised the heart, and the others chanted, humming in a language unfamiliar to Bastian.
It was the first time in many, many years he’d seen or heard something for the first time.
His mind whirred and whirred. So much he didn’t understand. So much he couldn’t explain, and therefore could not calculate the danger.
The danger to Andromeda.
His flaunting danger, charging into a devilish cornucopia of horrors, was the opposite of protecting her. What would happen if he were killed? If he were the one upon that altar?
She’d never be safe again.
I’d never search for her again.
I’d never find her again.
Bastian spent the next few hours in meditative solitude. Patience was not a choice so much as a state of being when he’d lived as long as he had and possessed infinite reserves. He hardly noted the passage of time at all until dawn broke, the figures cleared, and the army slunk back from where they’d come.
He was alone.
Making his way to the altar, the foul stench of dead blood greeted him. It grew more pungent with every step, and he had to bury his face in his sleeve when he neared the carnage.
Fenring’s body was gone. All that remained was his stolen heart and a river of blood, pouring from the stones and sinking into the soft earth of the swampland.
Tomorrow, someone would find the body wherever they’d staged it, with discovery in mind. There’d be more anger, more fear, more accusations.
None of that would lead them to justice.
None of that would lead them to peace.
In his heart, Bastian believed the infighting and declarations of war were the precise goal of whoever was behind the sacrifices.
With this in mind, he decided now was not the time to share his findings with Cassia. Not until he had enough facts to balance out the lack of them.
And also because once she saw the fear in his heart and knew the name of it—Andromeda, Andromeda, Andromeda—their treasured friendship would come to a crashing halt.
He needed to see Silvan, so he ventured to the Lycan woods.
