Night Quest

Both sides in the ongoing conflict between humans and Opiri had scouts and spies in the vast, supposedly uninhabited areas between human and Opir settlements, usually known as “Zones.” Most of the human colonies’ scouts and agents were mixed-breed Opiri, called dhampires. But a few pure-blood humans were skilled enough to survive in the Zones, even against Nightsider opponents.

Garret could easily be one such human. But he was too far from the nearest human Enclave to be one of their scouts, and she would bet her life—again—that he didn’t work for any of the militias.

“I am not an operative for any Citadel,” she said, answering his unfinished question.

“I believe you,” he said. “You were alone when those men found you?”

“I told you I was.”

“You also said you knew nothing about a human boy in this area.”

“I do not.” She hesitated. “This boy is your son?”

“Timon,” he said.

“I am sorry,” she said, realizing that she truly meant it. “I would help you if I could.”

He met her gaze. “You can.”

Alarmed by thoughts of what he might ask of her, she forgot her pain. “I am leaving,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows. “Do not try to stop me.”

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he said, getting to his feet.

“I may be injured,” she said, “but you appear to be unarmed except for a hunting knife, and even now I am stronger than any human.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it. Sit down, before you—”

Artemis climbed to her knees. Agony like a spear of sunlight drilled into her skull. Her mouth was dry, though she suspected that Garret must have given her water. She swayed, and all at once he was beside her, supporting her, holding her. He was warm and solid, and she could hear the steady beat of his pulse, the throbbing of his blood in his veins. The shock she had experienced earlier returned with his touch, a raw electric current that attacked her mind and body as if she had literally been struck by lightning.

“I said you weren’t going anywhere,” he said, gripping her more tightly when she tried to jerk away. He eased her down to the ground. “You’ll need blood or you won’t fully recover.”

His matter-of-fact statement gave her a very different kind of shock. Humans didn’t despise Opiri only because of their attempt to conquer the world but also because the very idea of feeding on blood was an abomination to their kind.

He did not offer you his blood, she thought wryly. But where else did he think she would get it, in her condition?

“Wherever you lived,” she said, “it must be very unlike the human compounds in this area.”

He pulled his pack close so that he could reach inside, and she caught a glimpse of a rifle stock, a kind she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t one of the weapons he’d gathered from the militiamen, then hidden. Apparently he wasn’t unarmed, after all.

“I assume the local militias kill every Nightsider they find,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “They consider it their divine purpose to hunt down as many Opiri as possible. Do you find that strange?”

“The militia compounds see packs of vicious predators, and the rogues only a source of food. An eye for an eye.”

Now she heard in his voice what she’d sensed in his mind and seen in his aura: simmering anger fed by a deep fear that was not for himself.

Don’t think about his feelings, she reminded herself. Don’t let them get inside you again.

But she knew it wasn’t that simple. Her shields had fallen, and she had to build them back up again. As quickly as possible.

“What was it that your famous peacemaker once said?” she asked, forcing herself to remain calm. “‘An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.’”

His laugh reflected his obvious surprise at her knowledge of human philosophers. “Very clever,” he said. “Most Opiri don’t have much interest in human wisdom. Are you one of those rare Nightsiders who see humans as more than barbarians, killers like the militiamen or potential serfs?”

“How else should I regard them?”

“Forgive me for my foolish question. Tell me—why don’t you live with other exiles?”

“It is not in the nature of Freebloods to live in packs,” she said.

He searched through his pack, and the scent of his skin—his blood—drifted toward her. “Not in the Citadels,” he said.

“And how do you know so much about our lives inside the Citadels?”

“Inside the Citadels or out,” he said, “Freebloods spend most of their time struggling constantly for dominance, so they can build Households of their own. That’s the entire basis for their existence.”

“It is not the basis for my existence,” she said.

“Because you don’t want to fight?” He withdrew a wrapped object from his pack. “Somehow, I don’t think you live apart because you’re afraid of being killed by your own kind.”

“I am not.”

“Then there’s something else about your fellow Freebloods that you don’t like. Do you hunt humans?”

The direct question startled her. “No,” she said, without thinking.

“That would explain it, then.” He opened the package to reveal several strips of dried meat, and Artemis’s stomach clenched with hunger. “I knew you were different when I first met you.”

“How would you know that?”

“Instinct.”

The same kind of instinct, she wondered, that had made her trust him so quickly? “And if you had determined that I was like every other Freeblood,” she asked, “would you have let me die?”

His very green eyes met hers. “But you aren’t,” he said. “I’ve met Opiri who didn’t believe in living on human blood on principle, and others who just didn’t believe in taking it by force. Which type are you?”

He spoke, Artemis thought, as if he had engaged in long, philosophical discussions with other Opiri, and that idea was flatly ridiculous. Wasn’t it?

“Many Freeblood exiles do not know how to live without human blood,” she said. “But most do not kill.”

Garret offered her a piece of jerky. “Too bad the ones who don’t kill can’t—or won’t—stop the ones who do.”

She pushed the offered food away. “Are you so certain they have not tried?”

“Have you?” he said, searching her eyes.

“I want what is best for my—” She broke off and took a deep breath. She had no reason to tell him what she had attempted and failed to achieve in Oceanus. He would never believe it was possible.