They walked on in silence for three minutes as his second mulled over the words. It’s not easy to realise how much war has taken from you.

“So that’s why—(Clara ran into you),” Murphy asked, when he decided to return to the subject at hand.

“She ran into me?” Marc confirmed. “That’s my theory.”

“Why did you invite her?”

“To throw her off, and for now it appears to have worked,” Marc began. “Besides we both know that a young woman like that would never dare get so close to the front lines…”

“Why doesn’t my faith affect you?” Murphy asked.

Marc looked at the Warrant for a second while his jaw muscles pulsated. However, the man of war did not respond, waiting for the answer to come out naturally.

“…right,” Murphy said.

“I’ll say this, no man who started life as a soldier will ever become Pope.”

“Hunters are creatures of faith,” Marc began. “Like clergy, monks, and sisters. Our kind reacts to faith, but older ones like me can counter our instincts.”

“You mean holding a cross works?”

Marc chuckled, as that was one piece of disinformation they loved to perpetuate.

“The cross is nothing per se,” Marc replied. “Sanctified items are more of a concern, as is holy water. We react more to the faithful than the trinkets they carry.”

“Why doesn’t my faith affect you?” Murphy asked.

“Don’t let their ages fool you,” Marc said. “Either one could handily best you in combat.”

Marc could see the doubt in his eyes, but the Warrant also knew to trust his judgement. Especially when it comes to the supernatural.

“You think they know?” Murphy asked.

“They suspected, given the lateness of the hour. Still, I think I passed their test.”

“What was that about?” Murphy asked.

“Remember when I spoke about hunters?” Marc asked.

“Can’t be,” Murphy replied. “They’re practically children.”

“Don’t let their ages fool you,” Marc said. “Either one could handily best you in combat.”

“What was that about?” Murphy asked.

A very poignant question, one that could not be answered there and then. They can’t hear me after three hundred paces.

He flashed one index finger until he made up the distance and crossed the road just to make sure. Marc wanted to confirm visually they were alone and answered because there were few hearts beating faintly.

“A beautiful name,” Marc said. “Very fitting considering those eyes.”

He bowed, literally, as though this were theatre and headed for the exit. Unknowingly he managed to stumble onto a hunter and wondered if this was the one Drusilla was looking for.

Since they tended to hunt in pairs, he guessed the other was nearby. Without a second thought he devised a plan to keep an eye on them. If Drusilla wanted to find a hunter, then Marc wanted to know what they were up to. It might be enough to get me to flush her out and give me a chance to settle an old score.

As he passed by the front desk, he noted the Captain gave him an intense stare. Thankfully he was not here for a thorough physical examination.

“Good evening,” Marc said before going through the door.

As expected, the Second Lieutenant ran into him hard, forcing him to take a few steps forward while narrowly avoiding Lavoie. The reaction was purposeful, but he made it look genuine.

“Apologies,” the Lieutenant said when Marc turned around.

“I was being careless,” Marc countered. “Do you have a name?”

“Name?” the Lieutenant asked.

“I’ll have Murphy add it to the program as a guest.”

While Marc smiled, hers faded. The idea of a nurse walking through the trenches of the Western Front would have been akin to a convict being escorted to the gallows. They’d eat her alive…

“Clara,” she said. “Clara Grey.”

“A beautiful name,” Marc said. “Very fitting considering those eyes.”

Based on a vial by his bedside they were keeping the private sedated. Being jittery and seeing things would not heal those wounds.

Marc took the Private’s hand and squeezed. The contact was enough to pass on instructions. However, directions had to be simple because verbosity risked unexpected side effects.

“Forget the last two weeks,” Marc whispered in a way that only a vampire could comprehend.

When done he did the sign of the cross and stood up. As he was backing away through the narrow aisle, he felt the urge to flee. Marc carried on, as an overt reaction might confirm his supernatural being.

As expected, the Second Lieutenant ran into him hard, forcing him to take a few steps forward while narrowly avoiding Lavoie. The reaction was purposeful, but he made it look genuine.