"Even among the gods themselves,” Jack said, “my kind is known to be wild. The Skylars, we're called. Most of the Enlightened avoid them. The wings have a will of their own. Making them move consciously takes more strength than anything I’ve ever done. There's an actual beast inside. It doesn’t recognize you, or my cousin, or my own mother as an ally. If I let them, the wings would impale anyone who gets too close to me in my sleep. Every day, that thing tries to win, tries to take control of me. There’s a Mr. Hyde crawling inside me. You're no monster, Bash. Not compared to me."
Well, that was quite enough of that.
Catherine pushed to a crouch and lunged at the man, feigning to aim for his chest but jumping down to trip him before shoving her heel to his throat.
"What is it with huntsmen and their poor footwork?" she mused, before redirecting her attention to the man under her foot. "First things first. You do not touch me, or any other lady, without her express invitation. Tell that to your damn wings. Shove me, and you'll get kicked sevenfold. Second thing: enough with the self-pity. You're pathetic. The emo thing has a sixteen-year-old expiration date. Get your damn shit together, huntsman. Because if you don't, your friends are screwed."
"My friends—" he croaked.
She lifted her heel just high enough for him to speak.
"My friends do just fine. I train them to the best of my ability."
"But no one trains you. Clearly," she added, waving toward his body, still on the ground. "If I can take you, you wouldn't last a minute against Seth."
"Wait, who's Seth?"
Cat finally moved her heel away.
"My brother. Another one of you. Half scion, or whatever you call yourselves these days. We may be able to deal with my family, with the Beauforts, and maybe even with the queen, but not one of us can take my brother. And Levi thought you might be able to." She grimaced. "I doubt it."
Jack leaped to his feet.
"What sort of threat are we talking about?"
"A storm," she replied.
Jack tilted his head. "Storms have no effect on me. No air magic does."
No wonder Levi had wanted to rope him in against Seth.
"Good. But Seth will still kick your ass. You're out of shape."
"I let you knock me over, woman."
She snorted. "Right. Keep telling yourself that."
"My darling boy! We didn't expect you for some time."
Seth smiled pleasantly at the family matriarch, as he always did. It wouldn't do to bare his teeth in front of a predator such as her.
"You call, I answer, Aunt Drusilla."
She laughed and opened her arms to cage him in.
Many believed that Seth Stormhale's greatest power was over the storms. He disagreed. His true gift was his uncanny ability to see through bullshit.
Drusilla was so full of it.
She'd told him to come the first week of July. He knew that meant she wanted him then and not one minute sooner.
After checking with his cousins scattered around the world, Seth's suspicions were confirmed. Everyone had been recalled. Which meant one thing.
The clan was preparing for war.
He wasn't against it. He'd expected such a call since the moment the world had heard about her. Chloe Eirikrson. A relic from an old world the vampires had tried to bury. And failed.
Seth was easily bored, and he had to admit the situation was incredibly interesting.
"You must be tired from your journey. I'll have your quarters prepared at once."
"No need to rush the staff, Aunt Dru, it's my fault for failing to warn you of my arrival. I'll stay with Claudia until my rooms are set up."
He'd intended to speak to his sister in any case. She might be young, but she had eyes and ears that worked just as well as any other spy’s.
"I'm afraid Claudia's away at the moment, but her rooms should be empty if you want to rest."
Away? That made little sense. At eighteen, the girl was rarely permitted outside of Stormhall, to Seth's knowledge. The Stormhales were protective of their youth.
"Where is she?"
Drusilla said some words, gave explanations. All Seth heard was more bullshit.
He made up an excuse and walked through the familiar palazzo until he'd reached his little sisters’ apartments. Catharina used to have the right side and Claudia the left, but now that the elder of the two was in Scotland, his youngest sibling had claimed the entire floor. It was pristine. Not one cushion out of place.
"Cendric."
The window flew open in less than ten seconds. A large man, fast as a shadow, appeared. Cendric was the oldest and strongest among the Stormhale guards and slayers. The true leader of their forces.
The seventy-year-old vampire took one step forward before dropping to his knees.
"My lord."
He had many questions. But first things first.
"My sister. Report."
Underneath It All
Bash couldn't stop smiling as they headed back to the dorms. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone get the better of Jack that way.
"What?" Catherine snapped.
He might have been staring for too long.
"I'm just amazed by the extent of your apathy. I didn't think it was possible for anyone to hear a sad story and react with so little compassion. Do you kick puppies, too?"
Catherine rolled her eyes. "Your friend didn't need compassion. He's feeling sorry enough for himself. He needed a reality check."
"Like me," Bash added.
She shrugged. "Think what you will. I can show compassion. To those whose misery isn’t of their own making."
Fast as they were, they reached the doors in no time. Bash found that he didn't want to say goodbye quite yet. Even though he had a paper to write, and apparently, a self-defense class to prepare for, he liked Catherine's company.
"Shall we play a game?" He immediately regretted the question.
She didn't look like the type of person who enjoyed wasting her time like that.
"What sort of a game?"
He shrugged. "A videogame. There are some in the common room. Not sure which. Or chess, if you prefer. You'd definitely have a better chance of winning at that, I'd wager."
Catherine shrugged. "Sure thing. Let's try a video game."
The woman was seriously annoying. Was there anything she didn't excel at?
"Again," he growled, pressing the button to start a new challenge.
He hadn’t played the racing track in a while, but after a single race, where he'd happily smashed her by a full minute, Catherine had memorized all commands. She pulled moves he'd never seen in his life, shoving her car at just the right angle to hit a code up in the air and then reappearing a mile up the road.
"What the hell was that?"
"No one likes a sore loser."
"No one likes a perfect Barbie robot, damn you!"
She snorted. "As far as insults go, I'm sure you could do better."
Losing again, although it had been his best time, he threw the remote control across the sofa. Time to admit defeat and lick his wounds.
Bash glared at Catherine.
"Admit it. You played that game before."
She grinned. "Only for fifteen years or so."
Bash laughed, half relieved, because maybe she was human after all, and half incredulous. She really didn't strike him as the sort of woman who could let her hair down and chill. But then again, he'd seen her room. And he knew she loved to pause and watch all sorts of creatures.
There were two Catherines, he realized. The cold, unfeeling front she showed to the world, and the other one. Softer. Not kinder, exactly, but certainly more real. He wondered how many people got to see her. He wondered how many people got to touch her.
But he couldn’t.
“You can be kind of fun, Stormhale. When you want to."
She snorted. "That's a far leap from hating me a week ago."
He'd said that, hadn't he? "Fine. Maybe I don't hate you. It's just fucking frustrating how easily you seem to waltz through life. Perfect at everything. Being a lady, a vampire, a goddamn videogame player."
Catherine took a swig of beer. "Maybe we aren't as different as I first thought. I watch you struggle with something that seems so simple to me, and I find it frustrating as hell, too, you know. The composure? That's normally easy to me. Effortless. I only got where you came from after tasting true hunger. Before, I couldn't even comprehend it clearly. But just because I don't suffer from thirst like you doesn't mean I don't have problems."
He wasn't sure he would have believed that earlier, but after the last few days, he got it. She had one issue: her last name. And everything and everyone who went with it.
Rather than voicing his guess, he asked, "What kind of problems?"
She seemed startled by his curiosity.
"Well, you shove your nose in my business and tell me what to do. I should do the same. Even out in the field."
She rolled her eyes. "All right. So, my problem is my siblings."
He hadn't expected that.
"You have two, right?"
Catherine nodded. "Yes, Seth and Claudia. Our extended family is full of bullshit and complication, but the three of us…we have fun, you know? Sure, I bicker with Claudia. All the time. She sneaks into my closet and steals my shoes. Then she spars with them and brings them back unpolished."
She was grinning from ear to ear, proving she didn't really mind. Bash gasped dramatically. "No!"
"I didn’t even tell you the state my favorite suede boots were in after she took them on a damn hunt. And Seth is…a lot. Megalomaniacal as hell. He doesn't even believe he can lose or be wrong. The annoying thing is, he’s generally right."
Catherine Stormhale had never looked quite so human. Relatable. Bash looked away; if he didn't, he might end up pulling her to him. Touching her. Kissing her.
She'd been clear. No more kissing. He wasn't one to ignore a woman’s wishes.