Chapter Four Samuel

Chapter Four

Samuel

"H utchinson, my office. Now."

Samuel stood abruptly, dropping his pen onto the ledgers across his desk, the long list of numbers and items already forgotten, the careful work of tracking the various goods and payments that passed in and out of this warehouse as they shipped all around the world. The rest of his co-workers all looked away, having all faced the boss's wrath before. They knew what it meant.

It was the end of the day. Cobb was in one of his moods. Samuel had been summoned. But there wasn't anything to do about it. He just straightened his shirt, made sure none of his hair had spilled from its bun and moved towards the manager's office.

"Samuel!" A hand caught his, squeezing tightly in solidarity.

He bit back the emotion he dared not name. Of course, it would be him. Markus was a kind soul, who had repeatedly tried to invite him out for dinners or ales. It hadn't taken long for Samuel to figure out where his interest lay, and if he had been someone else—anyone else—he might have accepted. His interest had never been restricted by gender, but after that one disastrous night, Samuel held Markus at arm's length.

Markus, though, had been so kind about it, even after Samuel told him they couldn't see each other again.

"Thanks," he whispered, returning the squeeze. But he couldn't linger—Cobb was waiting for him, and his patience was thin even on the best of days. Squaring his shoulders, Samuel crossed the room as quickly as he could.

The second he crossed the threshold, he heard the whispering start. He was sure they were already placing bets on whether he'd return to work tomorrow. But he couldn't focus on that, so he faced his manager, studying Cobb's lined face, the grey at his temples and the dark bags under his eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"You have a visitor," Cobb said, nodding towards the glass pane that faced the receiving room. Samuel recognized her immediately—the same Blood Worker who had found him with the body last week, who had promised to be back to take his statement as soon as she had a chance. He just hadn't expected her to come by his work. Hells, he was surprised she sought him out at all. Usually, they didn't bother with Unblooded deaths. But this murder had clearly been done by magic, so perhaps they didn't have the choice to ignore it.

Samuel swallowed hard against the fear that suddenly clawed through him. It was irrational—even from their brief interaction he had sensed that Alessi was not as overtly cruel as many other Blood Workers. But still—those dark robes, the glint of the claws on her hands, the forbidding glare.

It was hard to undo a lifetime of conditioning.

Cobb rapped his knuckles on the glass and she entered the room, standing with her hands folded behind her back as she waited for him to depart. Cobb huffed, moving past her with a frown. But still, he left them alone.

"Samuel," Alessi said, when the door closed. "Thank you for meeting with me." He almost laughed at that. As if he could have refused her. She had shown up at his place of employment, demanding to speak to him as if she were entitled to it.

And perhaps she was. What was he, in the grand scheme of things? Just another Unblooded fool caught up in something far beyond himself.

"Of course," Samuel replied, and Alessi nodded primly.

She sat down at Cobb's desk as if she belonged there, pulling a notebook from a satchel he hadn't even noticed she was carrying. It blended so well with her robes it was like it wasn't even there. She flipped to a blank page, holding her pen at the ready. "Let's start with what you were doing that night." She levelled a stern gaze at him, managing to pack a shocking amount of disdain into it. "You can sit, you know."

Cautiously, Samuel settled into the chair in front of her, and she offered him what was supposed to be a reassuring smile. Unfortunately, there was no reason to ever find a Blood Worker's smile comforting.

"Tell me what you were doing that night."

"I was coming home from work when I found the body," Samuel began, only to be immediately interrupted.

"Straight from here, then?"

"No." He twisted his fingers in his lap. "I saw… the sacrifice. With our King."

Alessi cocked her head to the side. "We don't get many Unblooded like you there."

"I couldn't get through the crowds." He glanced up at her. "Does it matter?"

"Probably not," Alessi admitted. "Continue."

He took a breath to steady himself, then he did. He told her of how he had waited for the crowd to clear, how he had trudged home in the evening light, how he had seen her there on the ground. How he had tried to help her, only to find she was already dead.

There was something like sadness in Alessi's eyes as she listened to him speak, her hand taking down the notes without her even needing to look at the paper. It wasn't quite pity or compassion, and it made Samuel feel like he was being judged for what he was.

"And that's all you remember?" Alessi pressed.

"Yes," Samuel replied, rubbing the heel of his hands against his eyes. "That's all."

Alessi leaned back in the chair. "And does the name Fiona Molloy mean anything to you?"

"You were able to identify her?" Samuel asked, astonished.

"Yes, with her blood," Alessi said. "It took some time to sort it out, but we found her."

Samuel shuddered, his thumb pressing over the vein at the crook of his arm. It was always blood, wasn't it? It was part of the census, taken from every child who had reached the age of five, for too many died without making it that long. A name, a tiny vial of blood. A way of keeping track of the Unblooded. It was, theoretically, for situations like this. For helping to find missing persons, for identifying the dead, for giving families peace and closure.

It scared him to his very core, for he was not foolish enough to assume there weren't secrets in his blood that he didn't want them to find.

Which is why he always toed the line.

"The name means nothing to me."

Alessi studied him. "Even so, given that you're now part of this case—and given the nature of the corpse—there will be a guard around your flat and your work. Just to keep an eye on things."

Samuel actually scoffed at that. It was absurd. "For my protection?" he asked, with just the slightest bit of sarcasm. "I'm honored."

"I almost like you," Alessi said with a sad smile. "Shame about your condition."

His brow furrowed as terror woke, his power roaring to life in his chest. He nearly spoke—nearly brought Alessi to her knees to demand how she knew, before rationality caught up.

Ah, right. His condition. It wasn't the dark power inside that Alessi referred to, but the lack of power. As if he had chosen to be Unblooded. As if he would have chosen to be a Blood Worker at all.

"Well, that is a shame," Samuel spat, with a fury that surprised even himself. He closed his eyes, reining in the anger that wasn't wholly real—that was spurred on by the power coiled inside him, now awoken.

Alessi's eyes narrowed. "Don't be that way. Aeravin wouldn't survive without the help of you and yours. You're what keeps this country moving."

"Like gears in clockwork." Samuel sucked in a deep breath, his nerves frayed and his temper hanging by a thread. That's all they were to Blood Workers—tools to be used. Cogs in a machine. Nothing more.

"More or less," Alessi shrugged, as if to say, what can you do? "If you find anything else, let us know. Can you do that, Hutchinson?"

"Of course." Samuel stopped himself from showing any reaction. As if he wanted a murderer running through Dameral. It wasn't likely that they'd be killing Blood Workers, not with the way that body had been torn apart. Samuel knew enough to recognize that.

Crueler Blood Workers saw them as little more than bags of blood. Walking, talking power sources to be used as they pleased. And even with the quarterly Blood Taxes, even with the King making forced stealing of blood illegal, it still happened.

Samuel had now seen it first-hand.

Alessi took his answer at face value, nodding like a governess who had just gotten her pupil to do as she asked. Samuel wanted to slap the condescending look from her face. "Very good, boy."

"Don't!" Samuel snapped, the command slipping past his lips, insidious and dark. "Don't fucking patronize me." The power surged from him, hanging in the air. Samuel couldn't see it—no, it wasn't like that, but he could feel it as it bore down on Alessi, shame roiling in his gut as fear overtook him, forming the twisted twins of emotion he was so used to feeling.

Horror, at himself, at what he could do.

Terror, at the prospect of being caught out.

The Blood Worker went slack, all the tension easing from her body as she stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused. Her mouth snapped closed, her voice stolen away as the command wormed its way into her. As it bound her to Samuel's will.

"As you say," Alessi said, and she blinked suddenly, released. The power still clung to her, though, and Samuel knew that it would continue to hold her. Would silence her tongue should she try to address him that way again.

The silence stretched out, sweat beading on the back of Samuel's neck as he waited—sometimes they didn't notice, not really. The truth was too absurd to be taken seriously.

"I should be off then," Alessi said, moving to stand. She was still in a bit of a daze as she packed her notebook away, as she moved towards the door. "If you think of anything at all, please let us know immediately. Lives could hang in the balance."

"I understand," Samuel said, though he knew that he had nothing to offer. He wished that he did. He didn't want another innocent person to die, to vanish, even though it happened again and again in this city fueled by blood.

Alessi stared at him for a long moment, her icy eyes boring into him, like he was a puzzle that needed to be solved. But she only nodded goodbye, then showed herself out.

Samuel slumped down in his chair, his heart pounding an unsteady beat as his panic turned to something sicker.

"You all right, Hutchinson?" Cobb asked, entering the room. "Can I get you something?" He gestured towards the drawer where everyone knew he hid his alcohol.

"Thank you, sir," Samuel said. "But I doubt it would help me with my job." He tried to smile, but he failed when he saw the way that Cobb was looking at him.

Pity.

"I don't think that will be a problem, Hutchinson." Cobb pulled the drawer open and grabbed the decanter. "I really think you should."

That creeping terror came crawling back, sinking its claws into him. "No. No. Sir, you can't."

"I don't have a choice," he said. "We can't have Blood Workers sniffing around. It will upset our customers. I have to let you go."

He laughed—a wild, maniacal thing. He couldn't help it. Let you go, Cobb had said. Like it was a simple, easy thing.

Not like it was his life being shattered.

Cobb didn't say anything, didn't even look at him. He just poured a glass of bourbon and placed it at the edge of the desk.

Samuel studied the amber liquid, considered taking it. Downing it. Then turning the power inside of him onto Cobb and forcing him to let him keep his job.

No.

That would never work. Cobb had supervisors. And this establishment was one of the few that catered solely to the Unblooded, owned and managed and staffed entirely by their own kind as they bought and sold goods across the world. It was the reason Samuel had chosen it as one of the only places he could work, as one of the few places in this entire forsaken country where he could avoid them. And now that he had their attention, he'd lose this, too.

He could, however, make Cobb walk him to the bank, certify the withdrawal and give him all the coin inside. It would be enough for him to flee this brutal, horrible country. He'd get on a ship and sail away, never to be seen again.

His hand hovered over the glass, a new life so close, just waiting for him to reach out and take it.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't give in to his power. Not like this. He snatched his hand back, as if burned, and looked away, taking deep breaths to still the dark urges that called to him.

"Samuel?" Cobb asked, his brows drawn as he watched. "You okay?"

The laugh threatened again. "I am now unemployed with hardly anything to my name. I have rent due at the end of the week, and only enough food in my pantry to get me through the next two days." He glanced up, just a bit of his power slipping past. "So tell me, what the fuck do you think?"

Cobb closed his eyes, as if pained. "Of course, you're not okay. I just ruined your life, didn't I?" He blinked, startled by his own honesty.

"Right." Samuel got to his feet. "I'll get my things, then."

"Wait." Cobb shot to his feet, the lingering traces of Samuel's power still driving him to honesty. "I'm sorry. I really mean it. You're a good kid. If you need a reference?"

Shaking his head, Samuel turned away. What good was a reference? If he was fired for catching the eye of the Blood Workers, well, that wouldn't change. Any reputable company run by Unblooded wouldn't want him, and he couldn't go to any company that was run by Blood Workers.

Couldn't let them find what was in his blood.