Twenty-Nine
They were waiting for Cathal in the blood pack store, even Brikita. She was slumped in a corner, surrounded by the empty carcasses of countless bags. The other two, Car and Ap Owen, stood to one side. Cathal counted six packs by their feet. As he stepped inside, Ap Owen held out a fresh pack for him.
It never hurt to be polite, and it was a kind gesture from his brother. He tore through the plastic and drained the blood. Refreshing, but it didn’t excite him that much, even though he felt it replenishing his energy.
Car asked.
Of course they would know about the kin. Their traces were too strong, too new, and they hung in the air throughout quarantine and beyond. Cathal had swum through the miasma as he climbed the stairwell, tasting each individual’s passage. Even back in
