Selene is only 16 years old, and she's a monster hunter. Werewolves are her specialty... and her curse. In fact, she shares their keen sense of smell.
Four months ago, a pack of werewolves kidnapped Raoul, her best friend, her only love. Selene will...
Lucas knew half the world, and the other half had heard of Lucas. However, Selene never expected to see her old mentor so familiar with the Vassal of Friuli. She watched them, first one then the other, and she could have sworn there had once been something between them; the hunter and the scout: who would have thought?
"What are you doing here, Tecla," Lucas continued mockingly, "aren't there any more monsters to tend to in Trieste?"
In fact, the regional Vassal was also necessarily the scout of the regional capital, in this case, Trieste. But Lucas's question was purely rhetorical; like Selene, he was well aware of why the Vassal had come in person. And the matter was serious.
"One of my subordinates is dead," Tecla confirmed, then glared at them with her yellow eyes, "and the last time he was seen, he was with two poachers."
– Seen by whom? – Selene wondered. So there was a witness to the confrontation with the lunarian, a civilian? But the embarrassed mumbling of the mustachioed dandy resolved her doubts.
"You're the scout's librarian, aren't you?" the girl finally asked him.
The man first glanced at Tecla, as if seeking permission to introduce himself: "Yes, I am Mr. Ottavio's librarian. Well, 'was,' at this point..." then he made a half-bow with an affected smile, "Amedeo del Bon, at your service, miss."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Selene didn't know why she hadn't thought of it before. Librarians were the scouts' advisors, their assistants and advocates. They weren't men of action, handling more bureaucratic and research duties. But it wasn't uncommon for them to accompany their scouts on missions.
Selene sniffed, and beneath the scent of chamomile, she smelled old paper and ink. Indeed, she had been misled by the fact that he wasn't wearing the waistcoat, the classic librarian uniform. But only a librarian would show up to a raid dressed like a bookworm.
"If that mustached penguin really says he saw us with your scout," Lucas continued, "then he must have also told you there's a lunarian in your district."
"The presence or absence of lunarians in my region is none of your concern," the Vassal cut in.
"On the contrary, Tecla, there's no poaching if your lunarian is a rogue."
"You don't know if he's a rogue, he could be more Friulian than this hovel."
"Don't cling to technicalities, you've never been good at politics. You know what I mean: he's not registered. He's outside your jurisdiction. So you can't claim him."
Tecla was getting nervous, she took a breath and closed her eyes: "Our 'supervision' is territorial, Lucas. And it so happens that the supervisor of this province died tonight." She then picked up Selene's dirty clothes from the ground, making her eyes shine brighter, "and his blood is on your clothes!"
There was no way to hide it: through the baligar, the Vassal's eyes could see the "hidden reality," specifically to whom all that blood belonged. But even if she had confirmation now, this didn't explain something else.
