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But Marcus didn’t want to think of his mother and Patience He didn’t want to think of Hadley, or Obadiah, or life before He had killed his father but had always retained a sain Now that he drank blood, he knew that was out of the question He was no better than a ravening wolf
“Go fuck yourself,” Marcus snarled
De Clermont rose to his feet without a word and stalked off into the darkness He didn’t return until the sun rose De Clerht him a small deer, and Marcus fed on it, better able to stoed creature than another person
Finally, Marcus and de Clermont reached the hills and valleys of a part of New York that Marcus had never seen before—far north, almost into Canada It was there that they took shelter with the Oneida Marcus recalled the spring of 1778, at Valley Forge, when news had swept through camp that the Marquis de Lafayette and his French coht the British As the Indians who had guided them here elcomed home by friends and fa their safety
In New York, Marcus was at last allowed to hunt He found relief running after deer and ga their blood De Cler warriors Marcus ht be fast and impervious to injury, but he was noanimals in the forest Next to them, Marcus felt clumsy and foolish
“He has ized to a battle-scarred elder atching Marcus’s hapless attempts to trap a duck with ill-concealed scorn
“He needs tioweyent, he will have plenty of that”
—
THE PUNISHING REGIMENS MARCUS WENT through with the other young ht out of him Marcus wanted to sleep but couldn’t seem to shut his eyes and rest He still didn’t fully understand what had happened to hi and fast?
De Clerain—that Marcus would heal from almost any wound, that he would be difficult to kill, that he would never be ill another day in his life, that his senses were now far beyond what most hu er perspective that would explain how all this could be true
It was the hunting—not the fighting or the questions or even the drinking of blood—that finally brought the fact that he was no longer huht, de Cler They tracked deer at first, then moved on to other prey Ducks and wild birds were difficult to capture, and contained only a small amount of the precious blood that kept Marcus alive Boars and bears were rare, and their size and drive to survive made them formidable opponents
De Clerun, or even a bow and arrow
“You’re a wearh now,” de Clermont said once more “You need to run your prey down, catch it with your wits and your hands, best it, and feed Guns and arrows are for warmbloods”
“Warmbloods?” Here was another new term
“Humans Witches Daemons,” de Clermont explained “Lesser creatures You will need hu But it’s not time to take it—yet As for the witches and daemons, their blood is forbidden A witch’s blood will eat away at your veins, and the blood of daemons will sour your brain”
“Witches?” Marcus thought of Mary Webster Had those old legends in Hadley been true after all? “Hoill I recognize them?”
“They smell” De Clermont’s nose flared in distaste “Don’t worry They fear us and stay away”
Once Marcus could bring down a deer quickly and feed fro the ani the route theysoldiers, some wounded and others perfectly hearty So away fro to escape into Canada and freedoht would end Manyfor a foro home to their farms and families
“Which one do you want?” de Clerrew beside a roup of British soldiers on the opposite bank There were four men, and one ounded
“None” Marcus was happy with deer
“Youtime with your decision,” de Clermont said
“That one” Marcus pointed to the smallest of the lot, a wiry felloho spoke in a broad, unfamiliar accent
“No” De Cler “Him Take him”
“Take him?” Marcus frowned “You mean feed from him”
“I’ve seen you feed fro from a human once you start” De Clerrenous”
Marcus took in a gulp of air Soagged “You want me to feed off that?”
“The infection is localized at the moment He would smell worse otherwise,” de Clermont said “It won’t be the sweetest blood you’ll ever taste, but it won’t kill you”
De Clermont vanished A shadow passed over the narrow, pebbled ford The British soldiers looked up, startled One of thehtened shout when de Clermont seized hi their few possessions behind The wounded soldier, the one with the dying leg, began to scream
The smell of blood sent Marcus after de Clermont He arrived on the opposite bank more quickly than he would have dreamed possible—before
“We aren’t going to kill you” Marcus knelt beside the man “I just need to take some of your blood”
De Clerround as his blood was drained
“Christ Please Don’t kill hter I only ran away because they said ould be put on a prison ship”
It was every soldier’s night onto one of the foul vessels anchored offshore with no food, no fresh water, and no way of surviving the filthy, crowded conditions
“Shh” Marcus patted him aardly on the shoulder He could see the —Lord, John Russell had been right at Yorktown Warive off a terrible stench as their flesh died “If you would just allow me—”
Strong white hands reached in and took the soldier by the collar Thenow constant as he faced what seemed like sure death
“Stop talking Bite him here Firmly You’ll be less likely to kill him if you latch on to him, like a babe on his mother’s breast” De Clermont held the soldier still “Do it”
Marcus bit, but theto fight and fight some more roared back to life He snarled and sank his teeth into the soldier’s neck, shaking hihtly to quiet hi of disappointe him Somehow, Marcus knew the blood would taste better if he did
Even without the fight, hu Marcus could taste a sourness that he supposed was fro through the soldier’s veins, but even so Marcus felt fortified and stronger with every sip
When he was finished, he had taken every drop in the aping wound that looked as though an animal had attacked him
“His friends,” Marcus said, looking around “Where are they?”
“Over there” De Clerrove of trees in the distance “They’ve been watching” arcus didn’t want to think of his mother and Patience He didn’t want to think of Hadley, or Obadiah, or life before He had killed his father but had always retained a sain Now that he drank blood, he knew that was out of the question He was no better than a ravening wolf