Fangs of Fate (Untish #1)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

TATE

I had dropped the blood bags off to be cataloged and then headed straight for medical. The looks and blatant judgment from everyone were beginning to grind on me. I had my ass handed to me, but to be fair, it was by his High Lordship, and I hadn’t been expecting the attack. I also had zero military training, and while I was the hunter outside the veil, in the Glenn it was painfully obvious that I was prey.

The medic had just finished applying balm to my face, a cold compress to my right eye, and gave me a healing tonic to ingest before abruptly leaving me at the table. Bloody gauze covered the tray. I knew from experience the tonic would make me either vomit or have diarrhea in about twenty minutes. Good news was that the headache was gone, the numbing sensation alleviating the pain from the shiner I was sporting, which should be healed within the next six to eight hours. If only I could avoid everyone for the next eight hours. But alas, that would be impossible.

I got off the gurney, swaying a bit before finding my balance, and left the clinic. The air outside was cool and crisp, the perfect fall evening. This close to the ocean, the air was moist.

Exiting the city district, I headed toward the village just outside the city limits. I was grateful that my residence was outside of all the towering cement and metal buildings, far from the ugly Guara wall. I was doubly thankful that I couldn’t see the hideous HQ skyscraper from the village thanks to all the weeping willows and maples.

Fletch was under my favorite maple tree with a circle of young vamplings surrounding him. He loved to teach, and from the looks on their faces, they adored him. He had several books and posters sprawled out in front of him that he would lift with his mind and show the whole class the different points of interest. Today it seemed he was teaching geography.

I always loved that subject; it promised such freedom. The little vamplings seemed to as well, as they were ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ over Fletch’s poster and the places he pointed to on it. One chubby vampling boldly declared he planned to visit the Fae land, the rest looked at him wide-eyed before sharing where they planned to visit—much more practical locations, like one of the outposts or the rainforest. At twelve, I’d also been determined to visit every place and unlike most, I actually made it out of the Glenn.

“What is that symbol?” a little girl with lots of freckles and large glasses asked Fletch.

“Ahh, Rita, this is the Untish Dragon symbol. They’re mythical warriors thought to have protected the land and maintained nature’s balance,” Fletch answered and then began to redirect the class to the final territory on the chart.

“What happened to them?” Rita asked, shoving her too thick glasses up her pudgy nose. This was dangerous territory, even I knew that, but Fletch being Fletch humored the girl rather than simply dismissing it—as all vampires were instructed to do whenever the Untish warriors were brought up.

“Well, myth has it that they left this world when they felt it no longer deserved their protection. Others posture that perhaps our world is better now and their services are no longer needed; as such, they’ve simply evolved and are now the birds in the sky. And still…” He paused, meeting my eyes from across the way. No Fletch, just keep it to yourself. But he ignored the begging in my eyes. “And yet some suggest that they are, perhaps, hiding in plain sight: by interbreeding within different vamps, lurking in the human realm, or fortifying the Fae land.” Crap. He did it, he took the girl’s already inappropriate question one step further—he broke the law, a minor law, but still, if it gets back to President Dale, Fletch will be fined for this.

“Interbreeding!” Rita exclaimed. “That’s impossible. My parents say that vampires can only mate with other vampires or humans,” she finished the word with a scrunched nose. The Fae were taboo and humans are considered vermin by many; prejudices still flared.

“Ahh, yes. Well, much of what I just said is merely speculation. And…” Fletch glanced down at his watch, “a topic for another day. Class dismissed.” With that, all the little vamplings rose in a flurry and went bounding off toward the softly lit village.

For being around so long, we still lived simply here in the Glenn—especially in the village. Most homes were simple structures with minimal electricity and plumbing; our roads were lit with fires everywhere, even though they were unnerving, they brought a certain comfort. A reminder that death could occur, life was fragile, and yet we survived. We moved forward. The juxtaposition of it all, the perfect symbol of her existence.

Because fire was the easiest way to kill a vampire, most feared it and gave it wide berth. Even the guara seemed to disdain tending to the fires. But it was better than the obnoxious florescent lights of the city district. Better yet, it reminded us of our own fragility.

“I was wondering when the little rabbit would venture back to her burrow,” Fletch said by way of greeting, his eyes bracketed in new wrinkles—he was worried.

My bruised face was likely the cause. The swelling had thankfully gone down, but my right eye was still likely black and blue.

“I always come back. This time I got caught up with a perp, but uh, I made it back.” I pulled him into a hug and embraced the older male. At eighty-seven, Fletch was considered a mature adult who was nearly old enough to be placed on the inner council. The average vampire lived for about two hundred years, with the exception of President Dale who was over three hundred years old—though no one quite knew how that was possible. President Dale claimed the Blood Mother had blessed him, but it seemed odd to say the least.

“Ahh my Tate, another mess?” Fletch’s gaze was piercing. He grabbed my chin and studied my face. “How bad is it?”

I couldn’t lie to him if I wanted to, he was like a father to me. “Nothing I can’t handle. Just a little dismemberment from an overfeed.”

His eyes sharpened with the last word.

“Really, it’s fine. High Lordship Lee was in a piss-bad mood, likely aggravated by the president’s presence, but—” Fletch’s grip tightened on my shoulders. “—Lee is always a piece of work. I took care of it and will be more careful next time.”

An iciness took over Fletch’s face. I’d never seen this look on him before. “What was the president doing there?”

“I’m honestly not sure. He went on a rant about the history of the no-kill law and insulted my mother.” Hate, deep and strong, bloomed in my heart as I thought of the way he spoke of my mother.

“Tate, you must be careful. Now more than ever. Things are...complicated,” he spoke softly. “Rumors are spreading, devotion is being questioned.” He looked around, ensuring no one was nearby.

“What are you saying, Fletch?”

“Just…be careful. Don’t give the guara any reason to focus closely on you.” With that, his eyes softened and he released me. “Come, let’s go get dinner and you can tell me of your latest target.” He turned and headed toward the south end of the village.

An uneasiness fell over me, whatever Fletch wouldn’t say couldn’t be good. Something was off, more so than usual. If he wouldn’t tell me, I’d make it my mission to find out.

After hours of grilling Fletch and getting absolutely nowhere , I finally caved and told him about my latest perp. He listened intently, laughed when I told him about the head popping off, and then sobered up again when I told how I’d left the body.

“I know, I need to be more careful. Blah, blah, blah. But Fletch, he had it coming and part of me, the savage part, reveled in the way his limbs fell off. It felt like he was being mutilated by justice. Like he got what he deserved.” My passion for justice was one thing Fletch had always inspired in me and was proud of—no matter how gruesome some considered my methods, Fletch never judged.

“Tate, you may have served justice, but you exposed yourself. I’m not sure you going outside the Glenn is a good idea,” he said. “I may speak with the council about reassigning you for a bit, remind you of the good you can do here .”

“Reassign me! Are you fucking kidding me? You know I need to leave. I cannot be trapped here. I will be more careful Fletch, but don’t you dare speak a word of reassignment to the council.” My rage quadrupled and my hands began to shake; my bodily responses were beginning to concern me—they were almost foreign. I was usually better at holding my emotions in check. Something was wrong.

“Fletcher,” he stiffened at my use of his full name, “what the fuck is going on?” My eyes pierced his and a fire deep in my belly began to fill my blood with heat—I was angry.

“Calm down, Tate. I just want to protect you. I promised your mother.”

“Protect me from what?” I demanded.

“From yourself!” He gestured to me with his hand. “You’re stubborn and thick-headed and are gone so much you don’t know what is coming. I don’t even know all that’s coming, but the council is on edge. The president is on edge. We have a trial tonight following the assembly. Another trial. This is the third assembly in a row where we’ve had a trail. Things are unbalanced right now, Tate, and you drawing attention only puts you in danger!” His entire chest was heaving. “I can’t let you end up in a trial. You will not die like your mother!” Fletch’s blanched face was taut with grief. His final words sunk in. He was afraid I’d be put on trial? For what?

“Fletch, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

His grief was palpable.

“Worst case, they pull my world-walking permit for a bit. You wouldn’t mind me being around more, now would you?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Stranger things have happened Tate. I shouldn’t tell you this,” he started, “but two more outer council members went missing. We don’t know where they are. Suspicions are rising, words of traitors and spies are being rashly spoken, and the council is considering all courses of action to take.”

Two more missing? That makes eleven this year, and it was only August.

“I’ll be careful, I promise.” And in that moment, I meant it. I didn’t want to concern Fletch with my suspicions or escalate our conversation any further. More than likely, he was just being an overprotective, grouchy bear like normal.