Seba didn’t humiliate them as he had before, or give them tasks they couldn’t complete. The pair had changed, Larten in particular, and Seba now deemed them worthy of respect. He believed they were ready to undertake the testing trials that would decide whether or not they were capable of playing an active whether or not they were capable of playing an active role in the affairs of the clan.

As Larten studied the warring American factions, he wondered again why Seba had brought them to this place. Their master had never shown an interest in the affairs of humans and hadn’t even glanced at the soldiers since they’d arrived. What could have lured him to this maelstrom of slaughter?

Wester stepped up beside the man he thought of as a brother and watched for a while with him. Both were thinking of Tanish Eul.

“How much longer do you think we’ll be here?” Wester asked, but Larten only grunted in response.

“Did you smell the war pack last night?”

“Aye.”

Larten’s senses had improved greatly in recent years. He’d been aware of the other vampires for the past two nights but had avoided them, staying by Seba’s side, ready to obey his master’s orders.

“I miss being part of a pack,” Wester sighed.

“Feeding on the battlefields was barbaric but exquisite.”

“I am sure reformed opium addicts miss their pipes,” Larten said drily. “It does not mean they should return to their old ways.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Wester said.

“No?” Larten shrugged. “I have often told myself that there was nothing wrong in what we did, since so many other vampires were reveling in the bloodshed.

But that is no excuse. Humans might not deserve our respect, but they do not merit our contempt either.” Wester smiled. “You sound just like Seba.” Larten winced and scratched his nose, then his ears. He had tried to copy Seba’s way of speaking in the past, and Seba had simply corrected him when he made a mistake. But since he’d returned from his time with the Cubs, Seba had taken it more seriously.