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Chapter Four

Samuel

“Hutchinson, my office. Now.”

Samuel stood abruptly, dropping his pen onto the ledgers across his desk, the long list of numbers and items already forgotten, the careful work of tracking the various goods and payments that passed in and out of this warehouse as they shipped all around the world. The rest of his co-workers all looked away, having all faced the boss’s wrath before. They knew what it meant.

It was the end of the day. Cobb was in one of his moods. Samuel had been summoned. But there wasn’t anything to do about it. He just straightened his shirt, made sure none of his hair had spilled from its bun and moved towards the manager’s office.

“Samuel!” A hand caught his, squeezing tightly in solidarity.

He bit back the emotion he dared not name. Of course, it would be him. Markus was a kind soul, who had repeatedly tried to invite him out for dinners or ales. It hadn’t taken long for Samuel to figure out where his interest lay, and if he had been someone else—anyone else—he might have accepted. His interest had never been restricted by gender, but after that one disastrous night, Samuel held Markus at arm’s length.

Markus, though, had been so kind about it, even after Samuel told him they couldn’t see each other again.

“Thanks,” he whispered, returning the squeeze. But he couldn’t linger—Cobb was waiting for him, and his patience was thin even on the best of days. Squaring his shoulders, Samuel crossed the room as quickly as he could.

The second he crossed the threshold, he heard the whispering start. He was sure they were already placing bets on whether he’d return to work tomorrow. But he couldn’t focus on that, so he faced his manager, studying Cobb’s lined face, the grey at his temples and the dark bags under his eyes. “Yes, sir?”

“You have a visitor,” Cobb said, nodding towards the glass pane that faced the receiving room. Samuel recognized her immediately—the same Blood Worker who had found him with the body last week, who had promised to be back to take his statement as soon as she had a chance. He just hadn’t expected her to come by his work. Hells, he was surprised she sought him out at all. Usually, they didn’t bother with Unblooded deaths. But this murder had clearly been done by magic, so perhaps they didn’t have the choice to ignore it.

Samuel swallowed hard against the fear that suddenly clawed through him. It was irrational—even from their brief interaction he had sensed that Alessi was not as overtly cruel as many other Blood Workers. But still—those dark robes, the glint of the claws on her hands, the forbidding glare.

It was hard to undo a lifetime of conditioning.

Cobb rapped his knuckles on the glass and she entered the room, standing with her hands folded behind her back as she waited for him to depart. Cobb huffed, moving past her with a frown. But still, he left them alone.

“Samuel,” Alessi said, when the door closed. “Thank you for meeting with me.” He almost laughed at that. As if he could have refused her. She had shown up at his place of employment, demanding to speak to him as if she were entitled to it.

And perhaps she was. What was he, in the grand scheme of things? Just another Unblooded fool caught up in something far beyond himself.

“Of course,” Samuel replied, and Alessi nodded primly.

She sat down at Cobb’s desk as if she belonged there, pulling a notebook from a satchel he hadn’t even noticed she was carrying. It blended so well with her robes it was like it wasn’t even there. She flipped to a blank page, holding her pen at the ready. “Let’s start with what you were doing that night.” She levelled a stern gaze at him, managing to pack a shocking amount of disdain into it. “You can sit, you know.”

Cautiously, Samuel settled into the chair in front of her, and she offered him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. Unfortunately, there was no reason to ever find a Blood Worker’s smile comforting.

“Tell me what you were doing that night.”

“I was coming home from work when I found the body,” Samuel began, only to be immediately interrupted.

“Straight from here, then?”

“No.” He twisted his fingers in his lap. “I saw… the sacrifice. With our King.”

Alessi cocked her head to the side. “We don’t get many Unblooded like you there.”

“I couldn’t get through the crowds.” He glanced up at her. “Does it matter?”

“Probably not,” Alessi admitted. “Continue.”

He took a breath to steady himself, then he did. He told her of how he had waited for the crowd to clear, how he had trudged home in the evening light, how he had seen her there on the ground. How he had tried to help her, only to find she was already dead.

There was something like sadness in Alessi’s eyes as she listened to him speak, her hand taking down the notes without her even needing to look at the paper. It wasn’t quite pity or compassion, and it made Samuel feel like he was being judged for what he was.

“And that’s all you remember?” Alessi pressed.

“Yes,” Samuel replied, rubbing the heel of his hands against his eyes. “That’s all.”