Spirit of a Hunter

by Sylvie Kurtz

  Sabriel slipped off his pack and dug out his small stove and a couple of packets of dried soup.

  She hated to stop and give the thug a chance to catch up to them. But her energy was flagging and she understood that rest and food would allow her to trek on longer.

  She shed her pack and let it drop on the slant of rock. Pinched nerves rebounded, tingling life back into her shoulders. Fatigue settled into her limbs like an anchor.

  “Can I help?”

  “I’ve got it under control.”

  “Back there?” she asked, closing her eyes against the too-broad view that heightened her sense of helplessness. “On the trail where we lost the Colonel’s man? What did you do?”

  He stirred hot water into the soup mix in cups and handed her one. The scent of chicken broth wafted to her nose and set her stomach grumbling. “Moving across an area without leaving signs is almost impossible. Especially if the tracker following us has any skill.”

  “But I thought you and Tommy were good at disappearing.” She stirred the noodles into an eddy.

  He handed her a pack of cheese-and-peanut-butter crackers. “Hiding our trail would take too much time. Especially with our packs. We couldn’t outrun Costlow, traveling light like he was. That left deception techniques.”

  “So we’re safe now?” Costlow’s sticky vibe hadn’t grabbed for her neck in a while.

  “At best all we managed to do was confuse him.”

  Though she shivered at the thought of the thug still on their trail, she was glad Sabriel wasn’t whitewashing the gravity of their situation to spare her feelings.

  He took her empty cup and handed her a Jonagold apple.

  She hadn’t realized how hungry she was and an apple had never tasted so good—crisp like the sunny autumn day, tart like the breeze; the sweetest thing she’d ever eaten.

  Then the image of Scotty on their outing to an orchard—was it only a month ago?—flashed into her memory. How he’d had such a good time filling their bag with Macintosh, Macoun and Cortland apples. How his tongue had poked out the side of his mouth as he’d concentrated on the heavy picker to reach the biggest, highest apple on a Macintosh tree. How he’d devoured his treasure on the spot, his chin dripping with juice.

  Was Scotty getting enough to eat? The tender flesh of the Jonagold stuck in her throat.

  “By now the other goons will have run the truck’s plates and figured out we’re who they’re looking for,” Sabriel said, gaze on the woods from where they’d come. “We can expect more company.”

  “Can’t your Seekers friend help you? Can’t they stop them?”

  “We need them back there, gathering intelligence and evidence. Seekers, Inc. is a private organization. We don’t have arrest authority. We have to work through other law enforcement agencies.”

  Sabriel stood abruptly, alert as a deer scenting a coyote. A faraway noise, like the bugle of a ghoul, rose above the treetops and shot an electric eel of alarm up her spine.

  “What’s that?” she asked, every instinct shouting at her to flee.

  “A tracking dog.”

  Chapter Seven

  Nora sprang up from the rock where she’d been sitting and swept up her backpack. Her breathing exploded into a ragged whisper. “Dogs? As in a bloodhound that can track our scent?”

  “Sounds more like a German shepherd,” Sabriel said, voice as steady as the rock on which they stood. He scoured the landscape below them. “Probably an airscent dog.”

  Nora swung to face him, a brick of panic weighing her chest. “What does that mean?”

  “For us? Not much. Either way the dog’ll latch on to our scent.”

  That did not sound good. “How much time to we have?”

  “They’re about half a mile back.” Sabriel frowned. He sank down on the rock as if they had all the time in the world and asked for her pack.

  “Shouldn’t we get moving? Fast?”

  “I want to pool our scent.” He wrenched the pack from her tight grip and proceeded to empty it.

  He knew what he was doing. She shouldn’t question him, but…“Are you crazy?”

  “It’ll make the dog pay attention to this spot.”

  Her voice climbed through the tight rope of her throat. “Isn’t the idea to make sure that it doesn’t?”

  “I’m going to confuse him.”

  “How?”

  “Olfactory overload.”

  Sabriel ignored Anna’s belongings, but zeroed in on the purse Nora had insisted on bringing, rifling through its contents with meticulous care. “What are you looking for?”

  “They found us way too fast.”

  “You’re thinking the Colonel put a tracking device on me?”

  Sabriel didn’t answer, but took apart her cell phone, her keychain and the lining of her purse.

  She wrung her empty hands. “Then why didn’t his men get us last night?”

  “I don’t know.”

  And the admission cost him. “They were at the trailhead this morning. How did they know to start there? The Colonel didn’t see the note.”

  “The Colonel isn’t stupid. He’s figured—just like you did—that Tommy went to the mountains. But even the Colonel doesn’t have unlimited resources. He didn’t know which trail Tommy took. He had to wait for us to show him.”

  Standing like this, Nora feared she would fall to pieces, the sounds of dog and men—at least two distinct voices—bounced against trees and granite, reverberating like thunder, getting closer, rattling at her already clanging nerves. She’d led them here, to Tommy, to Scotty. If the goons got to Scotty before she could, it would be her fault. How long would it take the tracker and his dog to catch up? To latch on to Scotty’s scent?

  Her son’s smile rose up in her mind and her vision went hot and blurry. Was Tommy lucid enough to fight for Scotty, to protect him against the danger gaining on them?

  She couldn’t let the Colonel’s men stop her. She would not fall prey to a convenient accident. She had to remain Scotty’s champion. “Hurry. Please. We can’t stay here.”

  “Hey.” Sabriel stood and tapped the side of his hand gently against her chin. “It’s going to be okay.”

  More than anything, she wanted to believe in the confidence reflected in his green eyes, in him. “We should go. Now. Before they find us.”

  He opened his palm, revealing two black dots the size of a sharpened pencil lead.

  “What are those?”

  “Microdots.” Sabriel unknotted the black bandanna at his throat and carefully wrapped the microdots. “They’re being tested by the Army as a way to locate soldiers downed in battle. The Colonel could have gotten his hands on some through his lab’s R & D department.”

  “Wouldn’t something that small be useless out here? We’re so far from everything.” How long had they been planted in her things? How long had the Colonel been keeping track of her every intimate movement? The thought made the hair on the back of her neck ripple with a chill. Fears weren’t paranoia if they proved true.

  “On a battlefield, the range has to be far and broad. Reed, the guy who was getting married when you called, almost lost Abbie, the girl he married, because her stalker was using microdots to track her. And they were running all over New England.”

  Sabriel crooked a finger in a come-closer gesture. “I’m not getting fresh, but I need to see if there are any more of these on you.”

  She plucked at the polypropylene base layer. “Everything I’m wearing belongs to Anna.”

  An almost imperceptible flash of pain flinched through his eyes, then steadied as if bringing up his dead wife’s name shouldn’t be allowed to hurt. You loved her, she wanted to say. It should hurt. He studied her with X-ray-visionlike intensity, making her wish for a lead shield. “There’s your bra.”

  Heat fired up her neck. “Wouldn’t he have to replace the dots every time I washed it?”

  His index finger pressed against the lump between her breasts—the oval locket Tommy had
given her at Scotty’s birth—and made her aware of the pulse pumping through her heart. The locket held a picture of Scotty as a newborn and another of her son she changed every year.

  “May I?”

  The touch of his fingers on her nape, as he worked at unclasping the chain, jolted through her faster than the strong coffee the Colonel favored, wreaking havoc on her senses. She squirmed at the unanticipated rush of pleasure arrowing straight to her stomach. How could his nearness punch her with such lust when Scotty was missing and a tracking dog was minutes away from ripping them to pieces? She reached up to push the torture of his hands away from her neck. “I can do it.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  The chain parted. Their gazes met and the air between them spiked with something she didn’t want to acknowledge. He quickly broke the spell, taking a step back, and cracked open the locket in the cushion of his palm.

  Behind her son’s baby picture, Sabriel harvested a third dot.

  She snapped a nervous laugh, trying to stay as calm as he was, trying to make sense of the madness festering in every facet of her life. “How low can the man go?”

  “He’s not used to losing, and you refuse to fall completely under his control.” Sabriel handed her the locket, then crouched next to his pack, removed the food from the bear bag until he’d lined up a handful of small fast-food restaurant pepper packages. He ripped them open and dumped the contents on the clump of moss where they’d sat.

  “What are you doing?” Nora worked at fastening the locket around her neck. Her shaking fingers couldn’t connect the clasp to the ring, and she finally gave up, shoving the gold oval and chain into the pocket of her pants.

  “One whiff of the pepper and the dog won’t be able to smell for hours. That should be long enough for us to gain some ground.” Sabriel stuffed the empty wrappers into his pack, then stowed her belongings back into her pack and hiked it onto her shoulders. He handed her a clove of garlic. “Suck on this.”

  “Why?”

  “It’ll help mask your scent.” He pointed back into the woods, up where the mountain crested. “I want you to head that way. It’s downwind and will minimize point smells.”

  “You’re not coming with me?” Nora’s hands gripped the straps of her pack into tight fists, paralyzed.

  Ignoring her question, his finger moved to an oak near the top of the rise. “See that tree with the bump that looks like a seal’s head?”

  Gulping, she nodded.

  “When you get there, look to the right for a deer run and keep following it up for a quarter mile, then down until you reach the stream.”

  Her heart stormed. Her blood thundered. “Alone?”

  “I’m going to give them something to look for.” He held up the bandanna.

  “But—”

  “You’ll be okay. I’ll catch up with you.”

  I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. “I’ll get lost.”

  “I’ll find you.”

  “I—”

  He cocked his head. Voice commands of handler to dog strafed the air like buckshot. “Hear that? That’s the Colonel’s men. They’ll be there in less than five minutes.” He shrugged. “Your choice.”

  She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

  “Go on. Move.” Sabriel’s predatory gaze, hawk-sharp and eagle-bold, made her shiver. This was not a man to mess with. She almost felt sorry for the Colonel’s men.

  Leaving his pack behind near the pepper-baited spot, Sabriel steered toward their pursuers. The crash of men through the woods drew closer and closer, jagging her pulse in a demented reel.

  Come on, Nora. Move. Sabriel’s doing his part. Time to do yours.

  Screwing up her courage, she popped the clove of garlic into her mouth and sprinted uphill toward the seal-head tree, willing her feet to go faster, praying for Sabriel’s safety, keeping Scotty—her goal—in her mind’s eye.

  A root buried in the litter caught her foot, and she plowed facedown into dry leaves. Searching for her vanished breath, she scrambled to her feet. A quick glance behind showed her flashes of movement. Thug or beast? Sabriel? She couldn’t tell.

  Move, Nora, move.

  Thigh muscles trembling, she took off again. Breathing hard, she reached the tree with the seal-shaped lump. She rested a hand against the deformity and caught her breath. Shifting her gaze to the right, she searched for the deer path, saw nothing but leaf litter and a tight net of tree trunks.

  Tears rose up, clogged her throat. Useless. You’re nothing but useless. You can’t protect your only child. You can’t find a damned deer path to save his life.

  If she lost Scotty, nothing would matter. She couldn’t give up.

  Frantic, she scoured the woods, getting down on hands and knees, furrowing through the leaf decay like a dervish. The dog’s howls reached near orgasmic rapture and wrapped around in surround sound hyper-reality. Where was Sabriel?

  In her frenzy, her wrist caved into a dip in the ground, unbalancing her. She brushed aside some leaves and found an old track—two half moons kissing to form a heart. Even she’d seen deer tracks in the snow behind the estate.

  A thrill rushed through her. I found it!

  She corralled her joyful shout with her hand and stepped onto the track. Keeping her gaze fixed on the dips in the leaves marking the trail, she followed one indentation to the next, up and up and up until the trail took a sharp downward shift and the gurgle of a stream filtered above the shouts and barks of men and dogs.

  Keep going, Nora. You can do this.

  As she tired, her shirt snagged on branches and her boots gouged the leaf litter, turning the dried leaves over to display their damp undercover.

  Might as well paint an arrow, she thought with a sneer.

  Distance, that’s all that mattered. Get away from the dogs. Get to the stream. Sabriel would know what to do next.

  Just as her pulse finally evened, the report of a gun echoed in the woods, surrounding her with a deafening boom. Her feet froze. Shaking, she whirled around to face the direction of the shot.

  Sabriel?

  Her breath chugged. Her heart rattled against her ribs. Was he hurt? Should she go back? If she did, she’d land right into the hands of the Colonel’s men and Scotty would become the Colonel’s captive.

  But what if Sabriel needed help? He’d gone out of his way to help her. She couldn’t just leave him there to die.

  He knows the woods. He knows how to survive.

  But even he couldn’t outrun a bullet.

  A strangled sound escaped her. She spun around, searching through the blur of trees for an answer. Please, someone, help me!

  The choked plea turned into caustic laughter. Who is there to help you, Nora? You’re in the middle of a forest. You’re on your own. You’re going to have to help yourself if you want to save Scotty.

  She’d keep going, make it to the rendezvous point, then she’d decide what to do next.

  Move, Nora, move.

  Sabriel, please, please be okay.

  Her heavy legs balked at first, then obeyed her command. The terrain shifted, plunging her down a steep incline studded with knobby knuckles of rocks. She slipped on a slick of wet granite, landed on her butt and slid down the ravine. She threw her arms out like ballasts, praying she didn’t tumble and break something. Somehow she managed to push herself up to her feet and scrambled down the rest of the way to the stream.

  This deep under the thick canopy of trees, the slant of the sun’s rays had weakened, leaving long shadows that shifted and stalked. Breath churning in her lungs, she took stock of her surroundings. The stream ran only two feet wide and no more than a foot deep. The small clearing left her exposed, an open target.

  What was she supposed to do now? She rolled the clove of garlic in her mouth. What if something had happened to Sabriel? How was she supposed to help him if she didn’t know where he was? How was she supposed to find Scotty in this no-man’s-land?

  Even though her body steamed like
hot coffee, the rising cold breeze dried her sweat and gooseflesh beetled her skin. She put on the fleece jacket Sabriel had stuffed in her pack and zipped it up all the way to her chin.

  Where are you, Sabriel?

  The longer she waited, the more her mind infected her with doubt, raising red flags of fear that flapped with dread. What if the thugs had killed Sabriel? What if the dog hadn’t fallen for the pepper trap? How long did she have before they found Scotty?

  If you keep this up, you’re going to drive yourself crazy.

  She couldn’t let the Colonel’s men trap her like some sort of scared rabbit. Hide. She had to hide. A denned rabbit survived. And as long as she was alive, she could plan, she could look, she could have a chance to find her son.

  Huddled in a ball behind a nest of rocks, hands pressed against the roil of her stomach, she irrationally wanted her mother. Someone to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. Not that her mother had ever been there for her, but that didn’t seem to matter in this off-balance, twilight zone world. She wanted the comfort of arms around her.

  The memory of Sabriel’s strong hands warmed her palm. His sure and steady gaze rippled back into her consciousness, ebbing the ferocity of her shivers.

  He was alive. He was okay. He would come back and find her.

  He had to. She would accept nothing else.

  In the meantime, it was up to her to stay out of the path of the Colonel’s men.

  * * *

  SABRIEL FOUND Nora by the stream, crouching behind a ring of boulders, so still and quiet, she might have been part of the scenery if it wasn’t for her navy jacket and blue pack. Fear beamed from her eyes, shot like red flares. The elastic tie had fallen from her ponytail, leaving her hair in a spiked mess around her pale face.

  Balled like that, she looked small and defenseless, but even trapped, her face showed the grit of determination. The porcelain skin hid steel he’d bet even she didn’t know was there, and that quiet courage tugged at him.

  Don’t let her get to you, man. You can’t afford to want someone the Colonel can use against you.