That’s when I see the disturbance. The puncture in his flesh. One black hole is pierced through his otherwise flawless skin.
I grab the other man by the back of the neck and tilt his head back to confirm my suspicions, ignoring his frightened whimpers.
My glare slams full force into Harland. “They’ve been fed upon?”
Harland glares back at me, unflinching. “Just be grateful I didn’t kill them.”
“You—”
“No, I didn’t bite them.” I breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m not a complete idiot. Your father would have my fucking head. I just pricked them and had a little taste.”
It takes all my restraint to hold back my temper, but I guess I owe him that much for him holding back his hunger. Still, the order was not to feed on anyone. The participants of the Hunt prefer their kills to be fresh, fully vital, with not a single drop of blood missing. Harland is long overdue for being reminded of his place, but we have more important matters to attend.
I have men missing and I need answers.
“I’m only going to ask you this once,” I say, turning to the humans again and releasing my grip on the young man’s neck. “You know the woman we took, yes? That well belongs to a community and the three of you live there together, correct?”
Nervously, they stare at each other, but eventually the young one cracks.
“Not together inthatsense of the meaning. Huh, Lewis?” He giggles, somehow managing to make himself seem even younger, though I had him pegged for at least eighteen. When his friend remains straight-faced, he clears his throat. “Um, yes. S-sir. We live in Valor’s Rest. Just right over near—”
With both hands bound together, the man named Lewis still manages to thwomp the younger man upside the head, practically knocking them both over in the process.
“Shut it, Dunce! Or you’ll give away our only bargaining chip, you idiot!” But when he glances up and realizes the damage is already done, he shifts gears. “Fuck it. I’m not dying just to save their sorry asses. You guys said you’re looking for people to bring to the Hunt? Dunce and I here could tell you where to find your fill and then some. There’s all sorts of humans where we come from. Hundreds.”
“Interesting.” I shift my weight to one hip and idly stroke the bloodred amulet around my neck.
Lewis seems pleased with himself. He thinks he has us figured out. Like all the other humans, he sees us as nothing more than senseless, ravenous beasts, who would stop at nothing to get a quick bite in. That’s how the ghouls are. That’s how the demons of the Shadowthorn were. So why would the noctis be any different?
In his defense, many aren’t. Like Harland, Ursulette, and Rhain, some noctis only think about satiating their hunger for a day.
I’m not like most noctis.
I think about the future.
Slaughtering an entire community would be one means to an end in terms of survival, but then we would have depleted an entire food source. We don’t need mass genocide, nor do I think any sane noctis would want it. We need the human population to replenish.
As if he can sense my disinterest in his proposition, Lewis shifts uncomfortably. “Y-you can even keep Dunce.”
“What?” His blond friend blanches, but Lewis ignores him.
“He’s useless alive anyway. Can’t even stop wheezing long enough for that fella there to walk by without noticing us.” He gestures to Harland who presumably found them hiding somewhere. “I’m sure he’d make a fine meal. Letmego though, and I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you exactly where you can find Valor’s Rest. You could have the feast of a lifetime.”
“I don’t need the feast of a lifetime,” I snap at him.
Beside me, Caz whispers, “I wouldn’t mind one.”
“What we need is a few more captives to contribute to the Hunt,” I say to him as much as the others, Harland most of all. I don’t need him getting any ideas. “And although the information you claim to have would be valuable in procuring them, I’m afraid it would be too risky, and a little reckless, for the four of us to waltz into a community of a hundred armed humans.”
“They’re not armed,” Lewis insists. Desperation has turned his face as red as an heirloom tomato that’s ripened too long in the hot summer sun. “Most of them have forgotten what it was like to fear you. They’ve lived in comfort too long and barely know how to make a closed fist, let alone how to hold a knife.”
His statement piques my interest.
With the crossbow bolt still clenched in my fist, I hold it high. Although the sun has mostly set, the sharp tip—still wet with either Gregor’s or Boris’ blood—glistens in the dim dusk glow.
“Someone knows how to wield a crossbow. In fact, they’re capable enough with one that they appear to have taken out a two-hundred-pound noctis.”
“It wasn’t the crossbow girl who killed them.” He shakes his head. “She almost got herself killed after bringing them to our doorstep. Rowland had to step in and handle things.”
