Blood of the Hunt

Blood of the Hunt - Chapter 4

"If I may say, Consul, you look like you need to get some sleep," Diego Rosales commented via Projection in the Consul's office from his own desk in the Scholomance. "You're pushing yourself too hard."

"I push myself exactly as hard as I need to, Executor," Alec answered with a sigh as he tried to lean back in the unfamiliar chair, a poor substitute for the one that Rayce had smashed during his confrontation with Everett. He winced inwardly, remembering the broken pieces. It had been a gift from Magnus when he had taken office ten years ago. Maybe it was a metaphor for the changes that were coming. He had enjoyed a relatively comfortable term, recent events not withstanding, but if he succeeded in pushing through what he was dreaming of, he was in for a much rougher ride.

Or maybe it was just a goddamn chair.

Diego gave him a sceptical look, despite his missing eye, and nodded, unconvinced. "As you say."

"What have you got on the missing Hunters?" Alec asked to change the subject. The plastic sheeting that covered the smashed glass doors leading to the balcony snapped taunt and then went slack again in the wind, rippling the clouded darkness outside for a moment.

"Still nothing, Consul. A few leads that went nowhere and a whole lot of silence in places where it should be noisy. It's a bit frustrating, really." Shadows danced across the sharp planes of Diego's face from the witchlight on his desk as he frowned for a moment and then let a faint smile lift the corner of his mouth. "But I was quite fortunate when I asked for a volunteer to lead the team; I don't believe the Scholomance has ever had such a die-hard detective in its ranks, either now or back in the 1800s. And he has such a personal connection to-"

The office door opened and Alec looked away from Diego's projection to find Cinder paused on the threshold as she tried to decide if she was going to get in trouble or not for interrupting them. He waved her in and nodded back at the Centurion commander.

"I know. Keep me updated. I want to hear about anything you find the minute you have something."

"Understood, Consul." Diego's Projection flickered and then went out as he ended the communication, cutting off the view of the rough, dark stone wall behind him. Even after nearly a quarter of a century of being operational once more, the Scholomance remained a very grim and dark castle.

Situated high in the Carpathian Mountains, it was a forbidding place to outsiders. Jace had referred to it as Castle Dracula on more than one occasion during the semesters when he was trapped behind its high walls and got caught up dramatically pretending that he was Jonathan Harker. He had written fire messages in Bram Stoker's style like, "30 June, morning - These may be the last words I ever write in this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if leg day with the first-years came, it should find me defiant til the last."

Alec was pretty sure all of that had stopped after some sort of incident involving Diego, but his parabatai flatly refused to elaborate on the subject and had had to find new ways to amuse himself until the next time he managed to push the Headmaster too far and be sent on another sabbatical.

Still hesitating in the doorway of the Consul's office, Cinder smiled awkwardly and unconsciously scratched at the bandages that covered the claw marks from the fight on Wrangel Island that ran from her right ear all the way down to her collarbone. The wounds were mending slowly; whatever type of poison those demons had had on their claws was proving to be a challenge for the Silent Brothers. Once healed, the new scars would seem oddly complimentary to the three old slashes that marred her left cheek.

"Sorry, I'm still not really sure how this works now."

"Don't apologize, Inquisitor Whitescar." Alec winked and motioned for her to come in. She had foregone the dressier clothing that usually came with working in the Gard and stuck with her favourite leather pants and tough gear jacket. She had at least conceded to polish her black boots for the occasion, though, so Alec took that as a start.