«Blood Word: Burst!»
A thin ray of red energy bursts from my palm, shooting toward a large tree about twenty ters away in the massive garden—no, private park—surrounding John Hawkley’s villa.
Watching that beam streak across my sight gets pumped—damn, I really look like I just stepped out of so ani! But the excitent dies quickly as the red energy fizzles out halfway.
«For just your fourth lesson, I have to say you’re making incredible progress,» John admits with satisfaction. «I figured it’d take at least ten sessions before you could handle Burst, but there’s a good chance you’ll pull it off next ti. Impressive.»
I still don’t understand the reason behind this sudden generosity of his, but whatever he wanted to achieve, without a doubt, he’s achieved it.
Yes, in the last two weeks this is already the fourth ti I’ve co here.
But honestly, I don’t have many options when my top priority is learning to master Sanguis energy—the power in vampire blood—and, most importantly, what the hell to do with it.
At the end of each lesson, John lets drink all the blood I want, still warm, taken directly from his political enemies or criminals captured and handed over to like at for slaughter.
I won’t deny it—things have gotten pretty sweet. Hunting in the alleys of New York has beco too dangerous because the Monster Reapers now know my hunting grounds.
And after that night in Cold Spring—after seeing the hopeful smile of that boy waiting for a father who had beco my dinner—I swore I’d never kill innocent people again.
A desperate situation, but John’s tily intervention has temporarily solved it.
In fact, not only do I get all the blood I need without lifting a finger, but I’m actually overindulging—more than I require.
A substantial drink every two weeks is more than enough.
Yet soon I’ll have my fourth in just two weeks, and I’ve never felt this strong in my life.
I feel a strength and vitality coursing through like never before.
For the first ti, I feel like I could tear the world apart.
I wonder what would happen if I drank every day instead...
I could ask John, but I’d rather not know—I’m pretty sure his answer would push into doing things I swore I’d never do.
It’s already four in the morning, and I’m still in the middle of my exhausting training session when a man—or at least, what seems like a man—approaches John.
He wears a long dark green cloak embroidered with gold, looking more like a stolen stage costu from so low-budget dieval movie.
But the truly strange thing is his appearance.
He’s abnormally tall, and his skin is pitch-black, darker than the night itself.
Even with my vampire eyes, I had to strain to make out his features under the hood.
His irises are pure white, just like his long hair.
His ears are longer and sharper than a human’s, and the right side of his face bears a deep burn-like scar.
And as if that weren’t enough, he didn’t even reach us by walking the main path from the front gate.
No... just a mont ago, he was a tree.
Yes, I know how insane that sounds—strange words coming from a vampire who’s been firing energy beams from his hand all night—but think about how weird it must be if even I was surprised.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the nearby trees start to sway violently as if caught in a fierce wind, then warp until it took on the form of this being.
«Found yourself a new toy, eh, Velshekar? I must admit, though, this one has a rather remarkable beauty,» the hooded man says to John.
Toy...? Remarkable beauty...? Could my suspicion that he only wanted my cock be more on point than I thought?
But more importantly... what the hell did he just call him? Velshekar?
So John Hawkley isn’t his real na... Well, of course, since John is actually a demon who used magic to take on human form, it was obvious he wouldn’t really be called John.
He’d have so darker, more demonic na... and Velshekar definitely sounds dark and demonic.
«I’ve told you a thousand tis not to call that, especially when I’m in human form and when we’re not alone,» John scolds coldly.
The hooded figure shrugs, feigning regret in his voice.
«Oh, so the brat doesn’t know anything? Since you’re taking the trouble to personally teach him Sanguis magic instead of having one of your court’s vampires do it, I assud he already knew. Guess I’ll stay as silent as a fish.»
What the hell am I supposed to know?! Damn... this situation is starting to worry ...
But it’s better not to butt in and let those two handle it between themselves.
I’ll save the questions for after that guy leaves.
«A visit from you is a rare event. To what do I owe the honor?» John asks, his tone annoyed.
«Just a simple request for information from... ahem, from him—he’s just returned from N’Raeth—about that matter with the two hybrids. He wanted to know if, in these two years, you’ve managed to gather any useful information about the two girls, or if you’ve simply been playing at being an Arican gangster. That’s all.»
John doesn’t seem to take the hooded guy’s words very well—being described as soone just playing at being a gangster probably isn’t flattering for one of New York’s most powerful bosses.
«Those brats are barely three or four years old! How the hell can he expect to know where they’re hiding?! Until they’re at least thirteen and start developing their powers, it’s pointless to even try looking for them—they’re practically indistinguishable from normal human children!»
«I’m afraid he won’t be happy with that answer... expect a visit from him soon. I know because he’s already paid one, and it wasn’t pleasant. I’m just here to warn you. See you, Velshekar.»
«The later, the better, Eskari,» John replies with irritation—and in the next instant, the hooded man is once again just an ordinary tree.
Needless to say, a flood of questions instantly pops into my head for John.
But the sudden burst of rage with which he smashes the massive tree—until a mont ago, that very sa Eskari—with just a single punch makes realize it’s probably better not to get involved in matters that don’t concern , and to stay far away from them.
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