Marked in Flesh Page 115

Stavros idly watched a few people come out on deck.

<Vampire? Do you have something for us?>

<Not yet,> Stavros told the Sharkgard. That gard had been following the ship for hours in a relay, waiting for him to deliver the promised special meat. He needed to strike soon. He had no intention of going all the way to Cel-Romano, and even in smoke form, he didn’t want to travel too far over open water.

Finally, he heard the hated, familiar voice.

“Today we have conquered the land,” Nicholas Scratch said as he stepped onto the lower deck with two other men. “Soon the human race will conquer this too.” He waved a hand to indicate the ocean.

You think so? Stavros calculated the distance between them.

<Shark?> he called. <Are you ready?>

<Ready.>

Stavros watched the other two men. The ocean at night held no appeal to them, and rubbing elbows with Scratch was no longer a novelty. They wouldn’t linger outside.

“You going to join us for cards, Nicholas?” one man asked a minute later.

“Go on without me,” Scratch replied.

“Nothing to see out here.”

“That makes it a good place to think.”

The men nodded wisely and went inside.

Shifting to human form, Stavros wandered over to the railing and smiled at Nicholas Scratch.

“You must be glad to be heading home,” Stavros said pleasantly.

Scratch gave him a look that sharpened when he took in the quality of the suit and black shirt. Stavros could almost hear him wondering how to play this new fish to get a fat donation for the cause.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Scratch said.

“We haven’t, but I’ve listened to your speeches with sharp attention,” Stavros replied, extending his hand. “You’re of great interest to many of us, Mr. Scratch.”

Scratch’s hand gripped his. “You belong to a group?”

“More of a fellowship of like-minded groups.”

“What’s your group?”

Stavros tightened his hold on Scratch’s hand and smiled, revealing his fangs. “The Sanguinati.”

That instant of shock, of fear. That’s all it took to pull Scratch close and slash the man’s neck—not to feed but to wound.

Still holding Scratch’s hand, Stavros took a fistful of the man’s coat in the other hand. In smoke form, there wasn’t much that could harm the Sanguinati. In a tangible form, they had the strength of the terra indigene. Before Scratch had a chance to scream for help, Stavros stepped up on the railing, hauled Scratch over the top, and jumped.

Shifting to smoke as he fell, Stavros flowed down to the surface as Scratch hit the water and went under. Spotting a hand, Stavros shifted to human above the waist and pulled the man up.

Wild-eyed, Scratch coughed and batted at Stavros. Then he screamed and went under again as one of the Sharkgard took a playful bite.

Stavros hauled Scratch up again and stared at this enemy who had been responsible for killing so many and hadn’t faced any of the terra indigene.

“We’re going to destroy Cel-Romano. I wanted you to know that before you die,” Stavros said. “You upstart infestation. You thought you could wipe out the terra indigene? It’s your species that is going to wither—and you will be one of the things the survivors, if there are any, can thank for that.”

He released Scratch and floated a safe distance away as dozens of the Sharkgard rushed in to strike the enemy, consuming the human piece by piece. A foot. A hand. A forearm. A thigh.

How long before Scratch is missed? Stavros wondered as he drifted above the waves. If I can’t get home, how long before I’m missed?

<Vampire.> A fin sliced the water nearby. <Do you see the light?>

Stavros rose to a column of smoke and turned slowly. Yes, there, going in the opposite direction of the ocean greyhound.

<Intuit fishing boat,> the Shark said. <They were told to wait for you. Can you get to them?>

<I can.>

<Then, go. They will take you to their homeport. You are going to resettle near the Five Sisters?>

<Yes. A place called Talulah Falls.>

<Not our territory, but we will remember you if you travel here again.>

Stavros looked around. He smelled blood on the water, but there was no sign of Nicholas Scratch. <Not much of a meal for the effort.>

<There will be more. Do you know what the Sharkgard call humans on a ship?>

<No, what?>

<Meat in a can.>

Alone again, Stavros flowed above the water at his swiftest pace. Shifting to human form, he hailed the fishing boat as soon as he was close enough to be heard. They brought him on board, and a couple of them, swearing they were healthy and sober, offered to let him feed. He declined the meal he would have preferred but accepted a plate of meatloaf and mashed potatoes and listened as the men talked about the catch and the seas and their hopes that their town would be spared some of Ocean’s wrath.

He offered no comment but thought Ocean would be inclined to spare their homes and families. A favor for a favor.

After the meal, he found a quiet place to rest. He’d enjoyed the work he’d done in Toland, but being dominant in Talulah Falls would be new and exciting. He would miss Tolya’s company, but he would be nearer to Grandfather and Vlad . . . and Nyx.

Yes, he was ready for some changes.

Stavros laughed silently. Meat in a can. He would have to remember to tell that one to Grandfather Erebus when he reached Lakeside.

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