"I can run back and forth, but I figured I'd ask you to carry stuff with me, if you don't mind," she said carefully.

Bash was surprised. "Didn't Levi offer?"

Chloe chuckled. "He did. But I'm not ready to introduce those two. It'd be like my boyfriend meeting my father. Except my actual father is in prison, and this one is a psychotic elder vamp stuck in a cave. Anyway. I'll delay that for a little longer, if possible. But Eirikr asked about you. A huntsman turned vampire? He's interested."

Bash had to admit he was a little anxious, but he hid it well.

He grabbed three of the five large boxes and followed Chloe down Night Hill, through the path leading to the Institute, and then up Cosnoc, following the path to Eirikr's cave.

Bash had been on this hill several times. Jack organized races there, the occasional campfire, but they'd never gone anywhere near the caves.

As he approached, he felt a strange energy telling him to pull back. Leave.

"Ah, it hit you," said Chloe, turning to him. "Ignore it. It goes away with time. The witches who set up the spells around this place did a little bit to deter people from going in there, but they mostly concentrated on shields preventing Eirikr from coming out."

That made sense.

But as they walked farther down the dark path lined with overgrown trees, bushes, and long grass, Bash felt weak, lethargic. He started to pant. Every step seemed to cost him, making it harder to breathe. Then, the thirst started to distract him again.

He wasn't sure he would have been able to go that far before the change.

"Chloe? I don't think I can go much further."

He hated admitting weakness.

She frowned. "Really? We're not very far."

"It's…" He paused. "I could be wrong, but perhaps you're not affected because of your blood. Princess of the seven, Eirikrson, with divine nanocytes helping. You know. One of those things might make you less sensitive than the rest of us."

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. Shame. Let me get those boxes down, then I'll come back for the rest."

She returned less than a minute later, grinning.

"How's the psycho?"

"In good spirits. Although he would have liked to see you. Thanks for accompanying me, Bash."

"Don't mention it."

Bash headed out to the Institute’s courtyard, feeling awkward as shit. All eyes followed him as he walked toward Anika Beaufort, who was training Tris, Jack, Bat, Zavier, Easton, and Chris, students in the most advanced sparring class, which he'd once been a part of.

Bash inhaled deeply. Almost everyone in the courtyard smelled like fucking food. His friends were marginally better, but that wasn't saying much.

What the hell was he doing here?

But he knew. He hated it, but Cat's words from two weeks ago had stayed with him, bothering him enough that he was willing to try her way. If only to prove she was wrong. That the problem was more complicated than him simply not being used to the smell of human beings. Steven had told him they were monsters. The kid had lived with the curse for years, so he would know.

He needed a distraction. And suddenly he knew just what would do the trick.

A pair of lips on his. So fucking soft. A slender body under his palm. Slim, muscular legs around him. Shit, Catherine had felt so good.

His fists unclenched at his side and he took a calming breath, then crossed the yard. Thirst was now replaced by something else. Lust. But also annoyance.

She’d barely spared him a glance or said a word since that kiss. They patrolled in silence and went their separate ways at six every morning. And he hated it.

"Hey. You mind if I join?" he asked.

At least Anika was strong enough to stop him if he went off the rails. So was Jack, and maybe even Tris.

"While you haven’t thought it necessary to grace us with your presence for fifteen weeks, you're still signed up for this class, Bash," Anika replied. "So please do, unless you want to flunk."

Oh. Yeah, he hadn't bothered to drop out of any of his old lectures. He wondered how pissed the rest of his teachers were.

"Sure. Cool. Erm—"

"I'll take you, big guy," Tris said with a wink, stepping away from her cousin. "Let's see if sprouting fangs has improved your footing."

He was grateful. Out of everyone except Anika and Jack, Tris was the least appetizing person here, and she could certainly take care of herself.

Though she hadn't turned yet, she was a born vampire. She'd always been faster than him, and stronger than most.

"All right. Today we're working with hands bound. You're expected to overthrow your opponent in three minutes or less. When you're in the role of the kidnapper, you are to imitate the fighting style of a sup—werewolf, witch, vamp, that's up to you. No huntsman techniques. We're practicing so that you know how to escape a sup holding you captive. Understood?"

Piece of cake, with his increased speed.

"To make the game fair, Jack, Tris, you have one minute. And Bash? You have fifteen seconds."

Shit.

Well, it was his fault for expecting Anika's class to be easy.

They took turns binding each other's wrists. Anika gave them iron bonds, while the other huntsmen worked with rope. Tris won, but it took her five minutes at first. Bash did manage to get her on her ass after a full minute. They kept alternating until they were both considerably better at moving despite the restraints. By the time Anika called the end of class, he'd improved to nineteen seconds, and Tris was at two and a half minutes.

"Not bad, sucker," she told him with a huge grin.

Then she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed hard. A little too hard for it to feel casual.

"I'm proud of you for being here," Tris said, before letting go.

Bash's throat tightened.

He wasn't proud as much as stunned and a little annoyed.

Two hours of sweating in the courtyard like the old days, and already he felt a difference. Smelled a difference.

Oh, they still smelled delicious beyond belief. But while he'd been concentrating on sparring, he'd somehow become a little more immune to the scent. He didn't think he was likely to jump on anyone right now. Unless they opened their wrist in front of him and start bleeding out.

He headed to his next class with Tris, wondering how pissed Professor Crane was going to be. The man took his leadership class seriously. A bear shifter businessman running a successful business in finance, he traveled to Oldcrest twice a week to teach, and he had little patience with slackers.

"You get along with the bear. Any advice?" Bash asked Tris, who snorted.

"Beg for his pardon? I swear his claws come out every time he glances at your seat."

Bash winced, stiffening as they approached the amphitheater.

Theo Crane, five foot ten, with salt-and-pepper hair and arms the size of bolsters, growled low as soon as he saw him.

Tris passed him by, whispering, "Good luck."

Dammit. Bash approached the bear, hands behind his back.

"Good afternoon, sir."

"Is it now? Is that why you haven't bothered to attend class for thirteen weeks? Wasn't sunny enough for you?"

Bash didn't bother to point out that he'd been turned into a vampire. Any shifter could smell it, and any idiot would be able to note the difference in him. The stillness and pallor.

"My apologies, sir."

"Your apologies will not make up for almost four months of absence. A dissertation on pro-environmental behavior change using evidence-based practice might. I will have it on my desk before the summer holiday. Understood?"

Bash winced. In just under two weeks? Crane's leadership course was one of his most challenging classes. He was a huntsman; in his youth he'd studied creatures, combat, spells. He'd taken the basics in math and sciences, but that was about the extent of his education. Bash had a bachelor’s in myths and legends. Economics, strategy, development, sustainability—that was like deciphering Chinese. Crane was a gifted orator, and while he wasn't exactly patient, his explanations were clear. Bash followed his lessons well enough. But if he was supposed to research those subjects himself, he might not be finished for months.

But he nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Very well. I trust you remember where your seat is, Sebastian."

He headed to his spot between Easton Read and Tris.

"East."

The man grunted, ill-humored. Bash didn't take it personally. Easton was always crotchety. His parents had died along with Bash's, but unlike him, Easton didn't have any siblings. He'd been twenty-two at the time, and alone. Few friends, no family. The huntsmen had tried to provide him with support, but he'd shut everyone out.

It probably didn't help that their parents' murderers had yet to be found.

They'd been on a mission to destroy Vlad, a vampire known for his savagery, so four of the best partners had been sent. Eight huntsmen against one. It should have been a piece of cake. But no one came back alive.

At twenty, Easton had come to the Institute to get his bachelor’s, but since the incident, he'd changed. He had no ambition now. He'd said himself that he liked being a foot soldier, sent to kill things without having to worry about investigations or conspiracies. Bash was pretty certain he was back for his master’s only because Vlad had stirred again, after more than a decade.

Six months ago, he'd massacred witches in London, members of Rose's Coven. The huntsmen reopened the investigation, but only fully licensed agents were allowed on the case. Bash got it. Vlad hadn't been caught yet, and the next time his name appeared on a mission, East wanted in.

Bash felt the same impulse when he'd first heard of Vlad's most recent antics. But then he'd remembered his brother and sister. His friends. And he'd decided to live.

He wondered what call he'd make now. He was stronger. Faster. And less attached to his existence.

An Unfamiliar Space

The scent of the classroom was far worse than the courtyard, where the fresh air had diluted the smell of blood. Though the room was large, the smell was a lot more condensed, especially after Crane closed the door.