Blood Moon

4. Aria

A/N: Warning: mild mature content.

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I found Uncle Marx in his study on the first floor. The double oak doors were closed. Sometimes that meant he was busy and didn't want to be disturbed, but Eric said he wanted to see me. So I let myself in without so much as a knock.

I kicked the door closed behind me and plopped down on one of the expensive red leather chairs in front of his desk. His desk was also made of oak with a fresh coat of varnish.

He was looking at a pile of papers and held up a pointer finger, indicating for me to wait until he was done.

The curtains on the wall behind him were drawn, revealing the night sky. We lived on the outskirts of the city.

The walls to my right and left had built-in book shelves, every single space filled with books or scrolls. To my right was another red leather chair.

A chandelier hung from the ceiling above me, also expensive.

Though I had been in this room many times I couldn't help but look around as I waited. Marx was still occupied by papers. I sighed, swung my legs over the arm of the chair, took out a pocket knife, and started cleaning my nails.

They weren't dirty. I just did it out of pure boredom. I found a small piece of invisible dirt and flung it off with the blade of the knife.

I heard papers ruffle and Uncle Marx cleared his throat. "You know better than to venture off after a rogue by yourself, young lady."

I forced myself not to snort. I may be young in vampire years, but in human years I was reaching 179. I continued to clean my nails as I spoke. "What? No 'thank goodness your safe' or 'well done' or 'congratulations on your first solo mission' ?"

My uncle slammed a fist on his desk. "Enough."

I paused my nail cleaning and looked at him.

He took a steadying breath. "If I do not send you out on patrol, you do not go out looking for trouble. You are to attend to your life as a regular mortal and report if you see or even hear anything suspicious."

"I did find him suspicious and reported but you all kept insisting that it was nothing to worry about."
I went back to picking at my nails.

Marx was silent. Too silent.

I swung my legs off the arm of the chair, crossed them, placed my arm on the chair arms, and stared my uncle down. "What are you not telling me?" My tone was deadly calm.

Uncle Marx folded his hands and rested his forearms on the desk. "We received reports that this particular rogue was hired."

My eyebrows knit together. "Hired for what?"

"That, we don't know just yet. But he's been spotted lurking on the outskirts of the city. We think he may be targeting more than one person."

I thought of how the rogue stalked Ronan. "Would someone hire him to kill a mortal?"

My uncle cocked his head. "I suppose it's possible but highly unusual. Why?"

I told him about how the rogue had tried to cut off the trail of his scent. And how he had stalked Ronan.

"Do you know this Ronan?" Marx asked.

"Not personally," I replied. "But he's in a few of my college classes."

Marx rested his chin on his hands as his elbows sat on the desk. "I want you to keep an eye on him."

"Babysitting? Is that my punishment for disobeying you?"