Free CREAM (On the Hunt) by Zenobia Renquist Page A

worst. She was one step away from being a Renfield.
    “Chill.” Teaghan lay down beside her and pulled her against his side so her head rested on his shoulder. “You’re not a Renfield. It takes more than sharing a little blood for that to happen.”
    She touched her head and then gasped softly. “I forgot you can hear my thoughts now.”
    “Part of sharing blood. Enough with the self-recrimination. You got laid, not committed treason.”
    “It might as well be treason.” Jeliyah’s memory flashed to the tour of the necro-metal factory all trainees had to take. It was a scare tactic more than an educational visit. The trainers had made sure their charges saw a punished necromancer being bled. A warning.
    The man had been a high class who had decided to get too close to the vampires he worked with. A night of sex and blood sharing had led to him being strapped to a hospital bed with one IV in one arm draining blood while another IV in his other arm supplied nutrients for sustained life.
    “Holy fucking shit,” Teaghan rasped as he pulled back and looked at her. “How old were you when you saw that?”
    “Fourteen. I had nightmares for weeks after. Most of us did.”
    “Vampires don’t dream but that shit’s going to give me nightmares. And you all call us monsters. Who does that to another human being?”
    “Necromancers. We’re not human. Not completely.” She laughed without humor. “An extra letter in our blood type and our chromosomes that makes it easy for the government to find us but that science cannot explain. The same magic that animates you makes us, though not many will admit to it. Once a trainee enters the campus, they’re government property until retirement.”
    Teaghan settled down beside her and cupped the back of her head, kneading in a soft, soothing manner. “After the shit you just showed me, I’m almost afraid to ask about retirement.”
    “None of your previous partners told you?”
    “We didn’t talk. We didn’t room together either. It’s code for something. What?”
    “Freedom.” Jeliyah relaxed as the goal of retirement—assuming she could keep her transgression a secret until then—entered her mind. “The campus takes charge of necromancer potentials at age twelve. That care isn’t free. Every single thing has a price tag on it from the bandages to the food we eat. They give each child a limitless credit card. We’re allowed to buy whatever we want.” She laughed without humor. “It’s a trap, of course. We’re expected to pay back every cent after we graduate. Retirement is the debt paid in full. After that a necromancer can seek gainful employment away from the farm, usually with a high class who has a team in place guarding some rich person.”
    “So that’s the big deal. But it’s not real freedom. If it was, you would stop being a necromancer.”
    “Well, yeah. There is that. Once a necromancer, always a necromancer. We’re too rare. If a retiree doesn’t find a job fast enough, the higher-ups place him somewhere. The only way out of this gig is death.”
    “At least I can quit being an enforcer when I feel like it. You necromancers are paid slaves.”
    She didn’t like the direction of the conversation. Revealing so much about necromancer life to an outsider grated against her sense of responsibility. “Why are you an enforcer? You looked like you were having more fun at the club. You make a ton of money each night. Maybe not as much as a rogue hunt but you wouldn’t be starving.”
    “I like killing people. I became a vampire on the battlefield. After I got out from under my sire, I kept at it. Some legal killings. Some not. Got on the bad side of some vampire hunters before I became a bounty hunter.” He shrugged. “Pretending to be human costs and I got paid to kill people. It was a win-win. The cost of living has gone up since the outing, but then so have the bounties.”
    “Even if you’re called enforcers now.”
    He snorted.