Thrill of the Chase (Hunters & Heartbreakers 1)

XIII - Langdon

Hunting: A History

By Edmond Shadwell

If Found, Please Return to: Trenton Wilkes.

10 May, morning. — I'm reluctant to leave the Hudsons, even though Naomi assures me they can look after Marjorie just fine on their own. Except that's not what I'm worried about — it's that I can't go back home to Father. Now that I know everything we witnessed last night was because of him, and that he's willing to use another man's daughter for an evil purpose, I can't look at him, let alone be in the same room.

"Langdon?" Naomi finds me in their front hallway, staring at the door. "Are you all right?"

"Will she be?" I ask, without turning around.

"We're hoping she will, yes. All she needs is rest."

"I cannot believe this is all Father's fault." I scowl at the door. "Why not use me?"

Naomi sighs heavily. "Hunting is a man's world, Langdon. Run by them, created by them, manipulated by them. Women are nothing more than objects to be used."

I flash back to the sight of Marjorie last night, bathed in sweat and crying out, gripping the table each time her body lurched of its own accord. She hadn't been able to hear any of us, lost in a world of pain. Father probably would have taken some grim, sick pleasure out of watching her, begging to be released from the torture.

"I wish it were not true, believe me," Naomi goes on. "I am the only female hunter I know about. There are things that I do that most women would find disreputable at best and scandalous at worst. Those things would have never even crossed the minds of the Sellings to teach Marjorie. All they find her good for is marrying into a respectable family and bearing their heirs."

"I mean what I said last night," I say, after a long silence. "I cannot let Father have her. If she becomes my intended...or my wife, he will use that as an excuse to double down on her."

"Remember this, Langdon." Naomi's hand lands softly on my arm. "Do not make the mistake of trying to push her away to protect her. You know as well as I do that she is in as much danger no matter what."

I nod, but say nothing. She has practically told me there is nothing I can do, and that frustrates me.

When I arrive home, I find things are no better. Because making a social call to my father is none other than Augustus Selling himself. My fists curl. I want to ram one into his face for being a bystander to Marjorie's agony, and for putting her through it again and again.

"Langdon, my boy," he says, standing from his chair when he sees me. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," I answer, and I see Father's eye twitch at my rudeness. I hardly care.

"Took quite a beating last night," he says, grasping both my shoulders and looking me in the face. The fact that he got away unscathed makes me even angrier. "I did not realise Zora would set the vampire on you."

I glance over at Father, but his face is impassive. I wonder how much he already knows — or if he's seen one of those blood-binding rituals for himself and is aware of exactly how they happen.

"I'm no worse for wear than the others," I say. Although beating off my best friend as he tore handfuls of my hair out had taken a toll on my mental state.

"Good, good." Augustus claps my shoulders a little too hard. "I hope it didn't scare you away. That is not how things are usually done."

"Isn't it?" I ask, and even though that draws a sharp look from Father, Augustus doesn't seem ruffled in the least.