Larten had felt foolish the first time he’d stood by a group of soldiers hell — bent on killing one another, sheltered from the sun beneath an umbrella that would have suited a lady far better. But he had grown accustomed to it. He now felt the same way a huntsman must when he pulled on ridiculous-looking clothes before mounting his horse and riding out behind his hounds.

The Cubs found the soldiers massed in a large field. They were fighting hand to hand. Most were armed with swords or knives, which the vampires preferred. They disliked guns for a number of reasons, firstly because the clan frowned on the use of them — guns were the choice of cowards. There was also the fact that guns could be turned against the Cubs. Vampires were tougher than humans and much harder to kill, but a well-placed bullet could account for even the best of them. It was an embarrassing way to die, your brains blown out from a distance.

But mostly the Cubs disapproved of long-range warfare because it was boring. There wasn’t much fun in watching humans shoot each other. The delight came in observing them struggle to stay alive. In dirty scraps like this, dozens of duels were being fought, life-or-death dramas that the vampires could follow with ghoulish glee, then turn away from at the end and discuss like a play.

Some of the soldiers noticed the curious men with the umbrellas, but most were too focused on the business of staying alive. If they caught sight of the scarred, pale-skinned figures walking among them, they paused to assess whether or not the strangers posed a threat. When the soldiers saw that the observers meant them no harm, their attention returned to those who did.

The vampires were almost never challenged. Humans who spotted them didn’t always know who the spectators were — many had never heard the vampire myths — but they could tel that the guests were not of their own kind.