A Public Death Is a Fancy Way Of Saying You're Stupid

Something is wrong with this vampire. And no one seems to notice.

A roar of bloodthirsty excitement rises and falls through the execution square as the guards drag the vampire into the center.

Movement near an alcove catches my eye. I glance to see another set of guards bringing in a second vampire, this one hidden from the crowd’s sight, and kneeling him down. So. Another one of those.

“How much blood do you think they'll make this one spill?” Rinna’s amused question drifts into my ears, but I don't answer.

From the high edge of the watchtower, I study the vampire on trial instead.

Jet-black hair falls unevenly over his face, hiding most of it. He is large as well, enough so that even with the silver chains burning his wrists and guards at his sides, he still towers over them all. With a body like that, it shouldn't have been possible for Team A to get their hands on him. Especially not without two or three hunters dead.

My grip tightens around the rail. Something is completely wrong. I can feel it in my bones.

I lean forward slightly. “Where did they say—”

The vampire stops moving. Then, with unnatural speed, he whips his head toward our tower.

“—they found it again?” I finish, the words catching in my mouth.

Forest-green eyes lock onto mine.

For a moment, everything in the square fades.

A strange pressure starts to stir low beneath my ribs, sharp enough to make my breath stall for half a second. I straighten immediately, irritated by my reaction. With the distance between us, I shouldn’t even be able to see his face clearly, especially beneath all that dark hair, but for some reason I can.

I don’t move. Neither does he. Not even the guards shoving him forward breaks his gaze from mine. There is an intense weight behind the stare. A weight that stays as if he's confirming something.

A heavy shove at his back finally breaks the contact. I blink immediately, shaking the trance off as my heart starts to skitter.

Rinna is talking now, probably responding to my question. But her voice doesn’t fully register.

I exhale through my nose, forcing my attention back to her, but the timing is off. I miss some things. I hate missing things.

“…the capital gates,” she is saying.

I nod once. “The gates.”

But my focus doesn't fully return. It keeps slipping.

“Yeah, I know, very ballsy move for a vampire. They usually know better than to come near us. I'm betting Sebby that either it's a newly-turned or a mindless one.”

“Team A hardly ever brings in newly turned ones,” I say absently, my heart beating faster. The vampire has tilted his head again and is staring at me.

“Why not?”

My fingers shift against the rail as though resisting the urge to step back into the shadows. “It’s too easy for them.” I murmur. “They’d rather go for the ones that fight back. Ones that would rather die than be caught.” My voice lowers. “This one allowed itself to be taken.”

A faint unease creeps up the back of my neck the moment the words leave my mouth. And the feeling sharpens when the corners of the vampire's mouth twitch upward. It isn't a smile.

Before I can process it, the crowd erupts again, tearing my attention.

The executioner has arrived.

He walks into the center of the square, waving both hands with a big, practiced grin stretching on his face.

Axon Drux. My cheating ex-fiancé. The reason I lost my place in the Order.

*Damn it.* A bitter taste coats my tongue as I watch him continue to wave. It is because of him, I’m stuck here, because of him I disobeyed orders and went hunting a vamp on my own, because of him my hunting privileges were revoked and I'm stuck on prison duty.

My fingers instinctively trace the faint, silver scar on my wrist.

Out of all the possible high-ranking hunters the Order could have chosen tonight, why did it have to be him.

The image of that night flashes again—his golden-haired head between Elena’s legs on our home’s floor.

Odin's beard, his stupid face is the last thing I want to see right now.

A low growl rolls through the square, drawing my attention back to the vampire. The vampire’s gaze has shifted from me to Axon.

And for some reason, the look unsettles me more than the smile.

One of the guards kicks the back of his knees, forcing him down into the dirt as Axon strides over to meet them, playing to the crowd like a stage actor. A servant soon steps forward, holding a platter. Resting on it is a heavy, silver-tipped stake.

The square immediately goes silent when Axon’s fingers close around it.

Even I hold my breath. Waiting. A vampire that large, with those chilling intelligent eyes, is surely going to snap his chains, surely going to try and escape.

Axon raises the weapon high, staying there for a few seconds more than necessary, before driving the silver wood straight into the vampire's heart.

And that's when the second vampire’s head lifts a fraction, his lips moving without sound. I don't need to see his eyes to know they've gone glassy with the strain of it.

A choking, horrific sound tears from the vampire in front of Axon, and right before our eyes, his skin begins to blister and liquefy.

And just like that, it is over. The crowd's thundering cheers return.

The other vampire collapses and no one moves to catch him. I look away first.

By morning, the ash will have vanished like it was never there. The crowd will go home satisfied. And beneath the Guild, another cell will quietly fill, and another “death” will happen again in a week.

“Well,” Rinna breathes, leaning over the rail to watch the body collapse into an ash heap. “Guess I owe Sebby. That was pathetic.”

I don't say anything, disappointment trailing behind before a hot rush of anger overpowers it. Was I seriously disappointed that a monster hadn't slaughtered my ex-fiancé and escaped?

I push away from the ledge, disgusted with myself. “I'm heading out.”

“Where—oh, I forgot. You’re still on night duty.” She looks at me. “Want me to keep you company?”

I shake my head, already reaching the doorway. I trace the scar again. “No need,” I say, looking back at her. “Only one of us should suffer tonight. See you tomorrow.”

An hour later, I enter the prison blocks.

The air down here is always stale and freezing, and combined with the suffocating silence, it is the perfect place to hide the Guild's darkest secret: the vampires they keep alive for interrogation and blood-harvesting.

Walking up to the duty desk, I meet the bored gaze of the evening guard.

“Cutting it close again, Eira,” Jorunn says, tossing his quill onto the ledger.

I sigh, pulling the logbook to sign my name. “Sorry,” I mutter a second after, taking the heavy ring of iron keys he holds over. “I was at the execution.”

He gives me a look that said that he didn't believe me, but I couldn't care less about what he thought. Come sunrise, my three-month exile from the field is officially over. I am going back to my team.

“Any new shipment?” I ask, hooking the keys to my belt.

He eyes me for a few more seconds before shaking his head. “Only the one from yesterday. Team A already dropped it off. It's in the last cell down the hall.”

I nod, turning away before continuing down the corridor. Five steps in, muttered curses, ragged breathing and the desperate hissing from starving, drugged vampires greet me.

I walk deeper into the damp hallway, ignoring their calls and only slow slightly as I approach the cell block at the very end of the hall.

No snarling. No chains rattling against stone. No threats spitting through the iron bars. Not a single sound comes from it.

My hunter instinct flares immediately. Didn't Jorunn say—

“Eira.”

A voice rumbles, making me draw my dagger instantly. The voice is smooth and deep and entirely too steady for a prisoner supposed to be drugged or waking from it.

“Who said that?” I demand, stepping closer to the heavy iron bar.

Out of the darkness, a pair of glowing, forest-green eyes stare straight at me. The vampire from the execution stands in front of me, fully intact and healed.

As I stare in horror, he tilts his head.

“You’re late.”