Bloodborn by Nathan Long Page A

a hunting trip one day, and not come back with him. It had been a hard thing for a child to hear, but on the northern marches, so close to the Chaos Wastes that their glow could be seen behind the mountains to the north every night, it was something to be learned and accepted young, for mutation there was terrifyingly common. There had been many others throughout the years – cousins, uncles, aunts, any number of peasants – some of which she had dispatched herself. It had been part of her duties as the boyar’s surviving heir – a difficult, painful task, but she had made herself believe, as Templar Holmann believed, that she was practising mercy. She wondered if one day she would have the courage to practise it on herself.
    They came to another intersection in the tunnels and Holmann held the lantern close to the ground, trying to determine which way the little man had gone. Ulrika pointed to the footprints she saw going over one of the narrow bridges. ‘There. He’s gone straight on.’
    Holmann gave her a look. ‘You have sharp eyes.’
    Ulrika swallowed as he started off again. She had to be more cautious. She had forgotten how much better her inhuman eyesight was than his. ‘I inherited them from my father,’ she said.
    As they ran on, her mind finally settled enough for her to wonder about things other than her own survival and catching the little man. For instance, why was Templar Holmann down in the sewers hunting vampires in the first place? Had he seen something? Had Mistress Alfina’s corpse been noted after all? Or had the witch hunter seen her killer?
    ‘What led you down here, Herr Templar?’ she asked at last. ‘Do we hunt the same vampire?’
    Holmann shrugged. ‘I know not,’ he said. ‘A man came to my comrades and I while we were investigating a disappearance earlier, claiming to have seen a vampire climbing a fence near the Silver Lily.’
    Ulrika stifled a groan. They had seen Alfina!
    ‘He was drunk,’ Holmann continued. ‘But a Templar of Sigmar must investigate even the most unlikely rumour of evil, so the captain dispatched me and Jentz to follow him back. We found nothing at the brothel, and Jentz berated the drunk for wasting our time.’
    Ulrika breathed a silent sigh of relief. They hadn’t seen Alfina. Good.
    ‘Jentz wanted to return to the captain,’ said Holmann. ‘But I had a…’ He shrugged. ‘A feeling, I suppose, and wanted to look around a bit more. I sent him back, then scouted the area. A few streets away I found an open sewer grate, and went down to investigate.’ He looked back at Ulrika. ‘I had just given up searching when I heard shouting and saw your light.’
    ‘And thank Ursun you did,’ said Ulrika, though, in reality, she was cursing the god for the mischance that had led to their meeting. ‘Or I might be drowned in filth now.’
    She glanced down to be sure of the little man’s tracks and stared. They were gone. She stopped and looked back. They had just passed a ladder.
    ‘Wait,’ she said, and padded back. ‘What is it?’ asked Holmann.
    Ulrika looked at the rungs of the ladder. Yes. Someone had gone up them recently, and she could smell the little man’s distinctive clove scent on them. She glanced up through the circular chimney to the grate. It had been pulled aside, just like the one she had entered earlier. She was about to tell Templar Holmann that their quarry had gone above ground again when she realised that the sky showing through the grate had a faint grey tinge. She froze, frightened. Dawn was coming. What should she do?
    She could not follow the little man’s trail through the city during the day. She would burn like a match. But if she stayed in the sewers any longer she would have to wait down there a whole day before she could return to Gabriella at Guildmaster Aldrich’s house. She couldn’t wait. She had to go back immediately and tell Countess Gabriella what she had discovered. But what excuse was she to give to