suddenly attack now, he’d most likely lose the will to fight and succumb to her counterattack.
As her alluring scent spread mercilessly in all directions, Lilia’s eyes flashed with malice. You might even call it a glint of madness.
“My parents and two brothers were all drained of blood by the Nobility, then had their heads cut off. They had no problem feeding on them, but didn’t want them joining their ranks, I guess. My big brother was nine, and my little one, six. That’s what Noble blood really means. That’s what flows through him. No point asking him to do anything for humans. Don’t forget, this is the same man who left behind a moaning, feverish child.”
“That was only because he knew I was coming.” Perhaps fed up with the winds of hatred that billowed at her, Vera had risen to the bait.
“I wonder about that. Tell me, D: if the doctor or I hadn’t been there, would you have seen to the kid? Of course not!”
Her look of hatred faded away unexpectedly. D had gotten up.
“You may not have any medicine to treat pneumonia, but you have something I want. Can I have it?” he asked the doctor.
“Oh, could my meager equipment be of some use, I wonder?”
“Just a heat pack. They only had one at the general store. Apparently they’ll be getting more in tomorrow.”
“Well, I’ll be—I had no idea you were so sensitive to the cold. Will ten hold you?”
“One will be fine.”
“Aren’t you polite!”
Producing the red package from her pack on the floor, the doctor gave it to D, who then did something unexpected. He rolled up his left sleeve. An identical heat pack was wrapped around his wrist.
Both Vera and Lilia donned expressions that seemed to say, What’s pretty boy up to now?
Taking off the old heat pack and tossing it down a nearby garbage chute, he tore open the new one and wrapped it around his left wrist. As the two women inundated him with looks of suspicion, the Hunter made a fist, then opened it again.
Apparently no longer able to bear it, Lilia said, “What kind of hocus-pocus is this?”
“I’m sensitive to the cold.” As he said that, D bent his wrist back far, then slammed the palm of his hand against the wall hard enough for them to hear a snap. A low groan rang out. The eyes of both women, wide with astonishment, followed the source of that voice and came to rest on Lourié.
D headed for the washroom. It was located beside the bath. The reason there was such an amenity here although the Nobility inherently loathed running water was simple: they were for human women who hadn’t yet been turned into vampires. In one era, Nobles had brought human beauties with them like pets. They were a kind of status symbol.
He passed his left hand under the infrared water faucet, palm up. Water flowed from the faucet. Boiling-hot water. D peered down silently at the palm of his hand as transparent droplets bounced off it and steam wafted up. Ten seconds passed, then twenty—there was only the endless sound of running water, and D himself seemed to dissolve into the very flow of time. When three minutes had passed, the palm of his left hand had only turned slightly pinkish, but ripples passed through it and a tiny pit opened. The hot water flowed into it. Another thirty seconds passed, and suddenly there was a choked cough, like a living creature spitting up water, and warm water shot back up.
And then a hoarse voice drawled, “What . . . are you doing?”
“Nobles target their victims while they’re asleep.”
“Hmm.”
“Awake yet?”
“Not yet . . . Cold . . . So cold . . .” Here it let out a big yawn.
By the look of things, the countenanced carbuncle in the Hunter’s left hand had trouble with the cold. For that reason, it made sense that as he climbed in the fierce blizzard, D had fallen into the illusion beast’s trap.
“I have a job for you. Drink a little more to clear your head.”
Once again the hot water sprayed everywhere.
“Knock it off!
As her alluring scent spread mercilessly in all directions, Lilia’s eyes flashed with malice. You might even call it a glint of madness.
“My parents and two brothers were all drained of blood by the Nobility, then had their heads cut off. They had no problem feeding on them, but didn’t want them joining their ranks, I guess. My big brother was nine, and my little one, six. That’s what Noble blood really means. That’s what flows through him. No point asking him to do anything for humans. Don’t forget, this is the same man who left behind a moaning, feverish child.”
“That was only because he knew I was coming.” Perhaps fed up with the winds of hatred that billowed at her, Vera had risen to the bait.
“I wonder about that. Tell me, D: if the doctor or I hadn’t been there, would you have seen to the kid? Of course not!”
Her look of hatred faded away unexpectedly. D had gotten up.
“You may not have any medicine to treat pneumonia, but you have something I want. Can I have it?” he asked the doctor.
“Oh, could my meager equipment be of some use, I wonder?”
“Just a heat pack. They only had one at the general store. Apparently they’ll be getting more in tomorrow.”
“Well, I’ll be—I had no idea you were so sensitive to the cold. Will ten hold you?”
“One will be fine.”
“Aren’t you polite!”
Producing the red package from her pack on the floor, the doctor gave it to D, who then did something unexpected. He rolled up his left sleeve. An identical heat pack was wrapped around his wrist.
Both Vera and Lilia donned expressions that seemed to say, What’s pretty boy up to now?
Taking off the old heat pack and tossing it down a nearby garbage chute, he tore open the new one and wrapped it around his left wrist. As the two women inundated him with looks of suspicion, the Hunter made a fist, then opened it again.
Apparently no longer able to bear it, Lilia said, “What kind of hocus-pocus is this?”
“I’m sensitive to the cold.” As he said that, D bent his wrist back far, then slammed the palm of his hand against the wall hard enough for them to hear a snap. A low groan rang out. The eyes of both women, wide with astonishment, followed the source of that voice and came to rest on Lourié.
D headed for the washroom. It was located beside the bath. The reason there was such an amenity here although the Nobility inherently loathed running water was simple: they were for human women who hadn’t yet been turned into vampires. In one era, Nobles had brought human beauties with them like pets. They were a kind of status symbol.
He passed his left hand under the infrared water faucet, palm up. Water flowed from the faucet. Boiling-hot water. D peered down silently at the palm of his hand as transparent droplets bounced off it and steam wafted up. Ten seconds passed, then twenty—there was only the endless sound of running water, and D himself seemed to dissolve into the very flow of time. When three minutes had passed, the palm of his left hand had only turned slightly pinkish, but ripples passed through it and a tiny pit opened. The hot water flowed into it. Another thirty seconds passed, and suddenly there was a choked cough, like a living creature spitting up water, and warm water shot back up.
And then a hoarse voice drawled, “What . . . are you doing?”
“Nobles target their victims while they’re asleep.”
“Hmm.”
“Awake yet?”
“Not yet . . . Cold . . . So cold . . .” Here it let out a big yawn.
By the look of things, the countenanced carbuncle in the Hunter’s left hand had trouble with the cold. For that reason, it made sense that as he climbed in the fierce blizzard, D had fallen into the illusion beast’s trap.
“I have a job for you. Drink a little more to clear your head.”
Once again the hot water sprayed everywhere.
“Knock it off!
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