Free Bloodforged by Nathan Long Page A

had stolen from a previous victim. It was more than two weeks since the incident with Herman and the roadwardens, and she had made good progress towards Praag, but the journey had by no means been easy or pleasant.
    Ulrika could not have imagined before she left Nuln how difficult travel would be for a creature of the night. For a start, even after she had filled out again and regained the appearance of health, she had neither the face nor hair nor manner of dress that lent themselves to blending in. No matter where she went she was noticed, and noticed was the last thing a vampire wanted to be. A Lahmian sister, dressed as a great lady, or a servant, or a harlot, might be catalogued and dismissed, forgotten as soon as she was seen, but people didn’t stop looking at Ulrika. They were always taking another glance, trying to work out what she was. Was she a woman or a man? Old or young? A bravo or a dandy? And if they looked too long, they might notice something else – the pallor of her skin, the coldness of her touch, the inhuman something that made dogs bark fearfully when she was near.
    So she’d learned to find shelter away from places where humans congregated, in farmers’ barns, in ruined towers, under haystacks and curled up in roadside shrines. But as she’d continued further north, and travelled deeper into the Great Forest, even such meagre shelters were not always available, and she’d had to, more than once, burrow under the leaf mould of the forest floor and pray nothing disturbed it before the sun went down.
    Even more difficult was the challenge of feeding regularly. After the shame and tragedy of poor Herman, Ulrika had become more determined than ever to master her hunger, and to feed only on those that deserved it, so she was forever seeking out the worst of humanity and luring them to their doom. On her journey so far she had drunk from bandits and thieves, from murderers and pimps, from cultists, rapists, poisoners and thugs. Such hunting had been relatively easy in the towns of the south – though she had twice been seen and chased from a village by peasants armed with torches and pitchforks – but again, the further into the northern forests she went, the harder it became. Even along the major coach roads, she sometimes went a night without seeing a single man, let alone a villain.
    Because of all these dangers, she had grown more cautious and methodical. Now she began looking for shelter hours before sunrise, rather than scurrying around in a mad rush while the sky grew pink. Now she made sure to feed before venturing off into desolate areas, and always enquired the distance to the next town. Now she kept an ear out at inns, listening for rumours of bandits and plundered wagons. Now she cut the throats of the men she fed from, in order to hide the telltale bite marks she left.
    Still, for all that she had got better at it, it was a hard, unpleasant life, and she often dreamed of returning to Gabriella and begging forgiveness so she could be snug and safe again in the comforting nest of Lahmian luxury. But every time she was tempted, she reminded herself of the countess saying she might have slaves but not friends, and of the deaths of Friedrich Holmann and Lotte the maid, and the spaniel-eyed fawning of the blood-swains, and it strengthened her resolve. She would not trade honour for comfort. There had to be another way to be a vampire.
    There had to be.
    Ulrika picked up Nikko’s wide, feathered hat from where it had fallen and tried it on. It was a good fit. With the rough leather jerkin and heavy patched cloak she had acquired along the way, she imagined she looked a proper vagabond now – which was all to the good. A ragged traveller was much less conspicuous than a white-haired dandy in black velvet.
    She tied the leads of Ham’s horse to Nikko’s saddle, then mounted and turned to the north.
    In another two weeks Ulrika was across the Kislev border, and two weeks after that, she was