‘But by then, little Claude was upright again, delivering a blow to my bollocks so thunderous, it actually made me vomit. I doubled up in agony, and he slung me down into the floorboards. Sitting on my chest, the vampire lunged towards my throat.
‘A burning piece of timber crashed over the boy’s head, splintering in a shower of sparks. Claude screamed in agony, his hair smouldering. Rising off me, he turned to his father, standing at the fireplace with a shattered log in hand.
‘“Papa,” the vampire hissed.
‘“No son of mine,” de Blanchet whispered, tears in his eyes.
‘He struck the boy again, the thing shrieking as the fire blacked its skin. A scream rang out in the room then, and Madame de Blanchet snatched up Lafitte’s fallen dagger, launched herself at her husband’s back. The blade punched through the alderman’s flesh, the man gasping as he and his wife collapsed onto the blood-slicked floor.
‘“Claudette! S-stop …”
‘Vomit in my mouth, blood streaming down my chest, I lunged for my bandolier again. I heard hissing breath, felt strong hands sling me across the room, demolishing Madame de Blanchet’s magnificent bed. I raised my left hand as Claude landed atop me, the unholy little fuck shrieking as the silver in my palm flared bright. But still he struck me like a hammer, driving the breath from my punctured lungs. With one clawed hand, he grabbed my arm, forcing the light of my tattoo from his eyes. With his other, he reached for my throat. And desperate, gasping and bleeding, I seized hold of his wrist.
‘My strength versus his. His will against mine. He loomed above me, cherubic face scorched and spattered red. I remembered those two highbloods in the crypts, the semblance of their old lives still clinging to their corpses. But this fucking monster atop me, glutted on months of murder, this, this was what they really were.
‘“Hushhhhhh now …”
‘I was thirteen years old again. Lying in the mud the day Amélie came home. And there, just as before, with death breathing cold upon my throat, I felt heat flood up my arm. Something stirred once more inside me, tenebrous and old. And with a shriek of agony, Claude de Blanchet reared back, clutching the hand that clutched his.
‘His flesh was blackening in my grip, as though it burned without flame. The boything tried to pull away, and beneath my clenched fingers, I saw his porcelain skin bubbling and splitting, red vapour rising from the cracks as if the very blood boiled in his dead veins. His voice was a child’s again, bloody tears in black eyes.
‘“Let go!” he squealed. “Mama, make him stop!”
‘His hand was a charred ruin now, scalding blood spilling down my forearm like hot wax. Still, I held on, horrified, amazed. I heard boots up the stairs. Greyhand’s shout. Little Claude gasped as my master’s flail wrapped about his throat and chest. And bound at last by silver, the little bastard tumbled to the floor. Madame de Blanchet flew off her husband and towards me, but de Coste wrestled her to the ground.
‘“I’ll kill you! You hurt my baby, bastard, I’LL KILL YOU!”
‘The woman was drenched in blood, her husband dead by her own hand, and she had no thought but for the leech laying helpless beside me. Claude de Blanchet stared up at me, soulless eyes brimming with malice. I pictured the bite wounds upon his mother’s breast and between her legs, trying not to imagine the shape of his nightly visitations. And I wondered if I’d ever walked so close to hell as this.
‘Greyhand placed his hands under my arms, eased me to my feet. My legs were shaking so badly I could barely stand, head spinning from Lafitte’s poison. My master surveyed the carnage: the crushed priest, the moaning highblood, the murdered alderman and his screaming wife. I was drenched in sticky red, stab wounds in my chest, ribs broken. My hair hung about my eyes in a matted, bloody curtain, mind racing with the thought that I’d somehow boiled that vampire’s blood just by touching him.
‘“What did I do?” I whispered, looking at the boy’s black flesh. “How did I do it?”
‘“I’ve no idea.”
‘Greyhand patted my shoulder, gave me a grudging nod.
‘“But fine work, Little Lion.”’
VI
THE SCARLET FOUNDRY
‘WE ARRIVED BACK at San Michon two weeks later, those mighty stone pillars rising from the sunset mists before us. In truth, I knew not how to feel. I’d both failed and flown on my first Hunt. My impatience had bested me, put innocent lives at risk. I’d killed a man with my own hands, and it’s no small thing to be the one who takes a life from this earth. You make the world less by it, and if you’re careless, make yourself less besides.
‘But instead of regret, I felt only vindication. That I’d defended God’s faithful from the evil that beset them. That I’d done right. And more and most, I’d defeated a highblood single-handed. I admit I was feeling more than a touch full of myself on that – sitting tall in Justice’s saddle with a smile that never quite left my lips.
‘Claude de Blanchet and Vivienne La Cour were both trussed up in silver chains on Greyhand’s horse. The boy’s arm had yet to fully heal from the wounds I’d inflicted on him, and Greyhand had to silence his wails with a gag. But the questions of exactly what I’d done, and more important, how I’d done it, were still unanswered.
‘Despite my insubordination, Greyhand paid me a grudging respect – I could tell he was impressed at the prowess I’d shown in taking the boy down. But de Coste’s eyes were full of loathing when he looked at me. My disobedience had seen him get his skull broken by a fledgling, and I’d gone on to thrash its maker unarmed and alone. Aaron had been overshadowed, and I knew he’d have a bone to pick once out of Greyhand’s sight.
‘We pulled our horses to a halt outside the stable gates, and I walked inside to fetch the grooms as Aaron and Greyhand unloaded our captive coldbloods. I called out to Kaspar, my eyes adjusting to the dim light of the chymical globes. And in the shadows, I saw two figures, starting as if surprised. The first was Kaveh, Kaspar’s mute brother. And the second, her face paling a little at the sight of me, was Seraph Talon’s assistant, Sister Aoife.
‘“Fairdawning, Initiate,” she stammered, bowing low.
‘“Godmorrow, good Sister.” I nodded slowly. “Kaveh.”
‘The lad lowered his eyes, mute as always.
‘“You are returned from the Hunt?” Aoife asked. “I am told all went well? Archer arrived last week with news of the cargo you carry.”
‘I looked Aoife over, head tilted. It was uncommon strange to find a sister of the Silver Sorority unchaperoned in the company of a stableboy. Kaveh was still refusing to meet my eyes. But in the end, I supposed it no concern of mine.
‘“Oui,” I nodded to the sister. “Two highblood fledglings, both of the Blood Voss.”
‘“Wonderful,” Aoife smiled, straightening her habit. “I shall accompany you.”
‘The good sister followed me outside, and Kaveh hurried to bring our horses in from the cold. Aaron and Greyhand bowed in greeting to Aoife, and together we ascended San Michon’s dizzying heights, with me hauling the de Blanchet boy and Aaron carrying La Cour. I watched the sister sidelong as the platform rose, but Aoife’s face was stone. Archer wheeled above us, singing to the wind in joy at his master’s return. Greyhand lifted his arm, and as the falcon alighted at his wrist, his lips twisted the closest to a smile they ever got.