The Midnight Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  “No. You should know as well as I they rarely seek emergency care.”

  “These wouldn’t be Weres,” Jody said, with the first sign of emotion flashing in her eyes. “These would be humans.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  What do you mean, humans?” Drake asked. The chill coming off the detective sitting across from her made the hairs on the backs of her arms stand up. If she hadn’t seen the fire flickering in the Vampire’s eyes a moment before, she would have thought her totally without emotion. The truth was completely the opposite—Drake finally understood what was meant by cold fury. She also appreciated for the first time that she was in a closed room with a predator. One just as deadly as a Were and not likely to give any warning before she struck. Drake kept her gaze steady on the detective’s, ready to move if she had to.

  “I don’t bite,” Jody said softly. “Unless invited.”

  Drake made an effort to relax her shoulders. It wasn’t easy. Some primitive focus deep in her brain was flooding her with enough flight hormones to make her entire body quiver. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be. You are surprisingly sensitive for a human, but I still should have better control.”

  “Any better control and I really would think you were dead.”

  Jody’s expression went completely blank, and then she laughed.

  The transformation was as breathtaking as the sunrise. Drake felt herself smiling, warming inside, as if she’d received an unexpected gift. She wanted to make her smile again, and dimly recognized that she didn’t usually react this way, no matter how beautiful the woman. Predators often lulled their prey before striking—could Vampires do the same?

  “Tell me about the girl,” Jody said.

  Drake shook her head, as much to clear it as to signal she wasn’t going to answer without more information. “You first. Why would a human have Were fever?”

  “You should ask your Were medic that. Sophia, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Drake wasn’t going to volunteer anything. While the detective was admittedly charming when she let down her formidable guard, Drake didn’t know what she was after. Gates was subtly interrogating her, that much was clear, but Drake didn’t think she was the target of the detective’s suspicions. She couldn’t help feeling that the Were Alpha was somehow the one Gates was after, and her immediate response was to shield her. She wasn’t reacting at all like herself, which was all the more reason to be careful of what she said.

  Jody Gates reached inside her leather blazer and came out with a plain white card embossed with her name and telephone number, which she placed squarely in front of Drake. “Call me if you see or hear of an adolescent female, Were or human, with Were fever.”

  “What about patient confidentiality?”

  “It’s a communicable disease,” Jody replied. “You have an obligation to report it.”

  “I’ve never seen any official communiqué from the International Institute of Health or the Center for Communicable Diseases classifying it as such.” Drake desperately wanted to know what she might be facing with this disease, because the ER was a battlefield, the front line where every minute could make the difference between life and death. She wouldn’t be forced to stand helplessly on the sidelines while patients died because she didn’t know how to treat them. This detective obviously knew something, and Drake didn’t intend to be played.

  “Without that, my hands are tied.”

  “You’ll have to trust me when I tell you that you’ll be saving more than just the life of a single patient if you call me with anything you learn.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I have everything to lose. I and every other member of the Praetern races.”

  Drake immediately thought of Sylvan and her apprehension escalated. How big was this problem? “What are you saying?”

  “Can you conceive of what it means for an entire species to suddenly be vulnerable, overnight”—Jody said with quiet lethality—“to mass genocide?”

  Even as recently as the day before, Drake would have answered yes. Intellectually, she understood that the Praetern races had taken a big chance when they’d emerged from the shadows, risking that the humans who vastly outnumbered them would accept them despite their differences. Even though she’d seen the subtle prejudice directed at Sophia, she hadn’t truly appreciated the extent of human distrust until she’d tried to aid Misha and Sylvan. Then she had been the target of suspicious looks and quiet disdain. The Weres were different—admittedly frightening—and yet so powerfully compelling. What kind of pressure must Sylvan feel to protect her Pack? Drake had given even less thought to the plight of the other Praeterns, all of whom seemed on the surface so much more like humans than the Weres, with their animal shapes and predatory natures. And no one really knew what to think about the Vampires. If they were dead, what claim did they have to any rights at all?

  “No, I can’t know what it means for any of you,” Drake replied.

  “And it’s precisely because I can’t that I don’t want to inadvertently endanger anyone.”

  “It’s too late for that, Dr. McKennan. We’re all in danger now.”

  Jody Gates stood and pointed to the card. “If humans come to realize that Were fever is not only untreatable and lethal, but also that they are at risk, there will be open hunting on Weres.”

  “I’m curious,” Drake said, pocketing the detective’s card. “Why come to me? Why trust me with this?”

  “Because I saw your picture in the newspaper.” Jody’s mouth flickered with a half-mocking smile. “And you had your bare hands on that young female’s shoulders, inches away from her face. If she was infected and had bitten you, you might be dead by now. Her Alpha might easily have killed you on the spot just for touching her. But you tried to help her anyhow.”

  She shrugged, a gesture so eloquent Drake felt an involuntary twinge of arousal. This Vampire was the most effortlessly seductive woman she’d ever seen. Something in her response must have registered with Jody, because for the briefest instant, her eyes flamed crimson.

  Drake felt a tug in her belly.

  “I’m a medic. I was doing my job,” Drake said, steadfastly ignoring the heat kindling in the pit of her stomach.

  “Then I have to believe you’ll keep doing it. I didn’t agree with my father when he supported the Exodus. I think he has placed our people in unconscionable danger by exposing us. But I didn’t get a vote, and now it’s done.” Jody stopped with her hand on the door, her eyes flaring as she fixed on Drake. “It doesn’t matter which species is the first target of a purge, the other Praetern races will fall. First the Weres—then the Vampires. Then the witches and the sorcerers and the farsighted and the telepaths. Which are you, Doctor—friend or foe?” Her voice dropped, grew smoky and smooth. “I’d like it to be friend.”

  Drake became breathless, trapped in a vortex of incredible power that caressed the very center of her being. The detective’s gaze probed her mind and laid claim to her body. Heat flooded her senses and she ached for those long cool fingers on her flesh. Hungered for a touch, eager to be devoured. She saw Jody’s parted lips flush crimson, the tip of her moist tongue just visible between blinding white incisors. Drake longed for that mouth on her. Every instinct pulled her forward, urged her to sink into the abyss of immeasurable pleasure. Struggling not to go to her, Drake gripped the table and her hand brushed the newspaper to the edge. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sylvan Mir’s face in the photograph—fierce, predatory, proud. She shuddered, clinging to that image as she fought the Vampire’s compulsion.

  “Stop it,” Drake whispered.

  Almost instantly the agonizingly erotic grip on her senses released, and Drake sagged as if loosed from a powerful undertow. To Drake’s surprise, Jody was breathing as hard as she was. Jody grimaced as if the loss of their connection pained her, and her incisors flashed faintly.

  Drake still felt like prey, but not in the usual sense. The Weres
might be natural predators, but the Vampires were sexual ones. She’d just been hunted, and had barely escaped.

  “It’s never wise to lie to the police,” Jody murmured. “Whatever Sylvan Mir is to you, it’s much more than an acquaintance.” She opened the door. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  ———

  Sylvan followed the river south, slipping through the underbrush along its banks like a sliver of moonlight flickering among the shadows.

  Her centuri would follow her trail, but they would be long minutes behind her. Her powerful muscles bunched as her legs swept over the ground in huge bounding strides. She tasted the morning on her tongue, felt the wind ruffle through her pelt. Rabbit and deer scattered at her approach, but she was not hunting. She was running. Running to burn the heat from her blood and the frenzy from her loins. Running until the exhaustion dampened desire and clarity eclipsed instinct. She ran, even though she knew her quest was fruitless. She was Alpha, and as long as she breathed she would have one purpose—to lead and protect her Pack. Nothing short of death—not injury or fatigue or the clarion call of reason—would override that most primitive drive. But she ran nevertheless.

  She reached Washington Park at sunrise and made her way silently past the early morning joggers and dog walkers, warning off the canines with a subvocal growl that only they could hear. When she reached the deserted park facilities building, she shifted back to skin form. Then she keyed in a code on the side panel of a nondescript gray metal box about the size of an air-conditioning unit behind the building. The boxes were everywhere in the city, affixed to utility sheds, public works garages, electrical transformers, and water processing plants—just one more mechanical unit that faded into the background for the myriad workers who passed dozens of similar ones every day. She sorted through the small cache of clothes inside and removed a navy blue T-shirt and jeans. Since she wasn’t rushed as she had been the previous evening, she took the time to pull out a pair of plain black loafers. After dressing, she punched in some codes on the electronic menu inside the door.

  The information would be logged in at Mir Industries, and one of her employees would replace the items within twenty-four hours for the next Were who found themselves in need of clothing.

  She started walking through the park toward the capitol complex with the intention of going to the office. After a few minutes, she veered toward New Scotland Avenue instead. Her body felt pleasantly loose and limber after her thirty-mile journey and she wasn’t looking forward to being caged in an office and tethered to a desk. And she was hungry.

  She was also penniless and without her phone. Niki would be very unhappy. Her options were limited, and since she didn’t want to wait for her guards, one of whom would be following in the Rover, she decided to try her luck at catching Sophia at the hospital. She didn’t think the young medic would mind taking her to breakfast.

  Most Weres could disappear in plain sight, having a predator’s natural ability to move without stirring the air, and she was far better than most. No one paid any attention to her when she followed a group of nurses through the double doors separating the waiting area from the rest of the emergency room. She scented another Were at the far end of the hall, but it wasn’t Sophia. A young male. He stepped out from a cubicle, holding an X-ray plate under his arm. He stared in her direction, his expression questioning and uncertain. When she shook her head, he ducked his and hurriedly disappeared back behind the curtain.

  Sylvan registered another scent, one she recognized, and not one that should have caused her pulse to race. Human. Female. Her thinking brain told her to turn around and leave, but her instinct urged her to follow the scent. She found Drake McKennan sitting at a small table in an otherwise empty room. Sylvan stepped inside and closed the door.

  “Good morning,” Sylvan said.

  Drake leaned back in her chair and smiled ruefully. “I don’t know about good, but it’s been one hell of a morning so far.”

  “What did the Vampire want?” Sylvan demanded, unaccountably angry that Drake had been in close contact with a very powerful Vampire with very powerful desires. “Besides you?”

  “Okay,” Drake said, placing both hands flat on the table. “I’ve about had it with cryptic allusions and half-facts. And individuals who seem to know more about my business than I do. So it’s someone else’s turn to answer questions. What are you doing here?”

  Sylvan folded her arms and leaned back against the door, unable to suppress a smile. She didn’t derive any pleasure from instilling fear in others, but she was used to it. Apparently, Drake was immune. Or as she had previously suspected, naïvely brave. “I was looking for Sophia.”

  “Oh,” Drake said, feeling foolishly disappointed and hoping her reaction wasn’t apparent. Obviously the Were Alpha would want to talk to the Were medic, especially when it was clear from Detective Gates’s questions that something serious was going on in the Were Pack. Just because she had been thinking about Sylvan most of the night didn’t mean that the Were had given her a second thought. Maybe there was more to Sylvan’s relationship with Sophia than Sophia had let on. After all, it was six o’clock in the morning—an odd time for the Alpha to show up. “She’s not here.”

  “I know.” Sylvan’s jaw tightened and her face seemed to grow bolder, stronger, more intense. “Your turn. What did the Vampire want with you?”

  “How do you know she was here?”

  Sylvan growled. “I know.”

  “How?”

  “I can smell her all over this room.” Sylvan pushed off the wall and leaned over the table. “Will I smell her all over you?”

  “And if you did?” Drake’s throat was suddenly dry. Sylvan was so close Drake could see the gold flecks in her slate blue eyes. She could smell her, too. Wild cinnamon and burnt pine. She probably should have been intimidated, but she wasn’t. And she knew instinctively that backing down was the wrong thing to do with this Were. “What would that tell you?”

  “Then I would know friend from foe.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” Exasperated, Drake stood up. She must have blinked because she didn’t see Sylvan move, but in the next instant, the Alpha was standing next to her. They were nearly the same height.

  For the second time in less than an hour, Drake felt herself drawn in by a gaze, but this time, she welcomed the stirring in her blood. “Those terms have been going around a lot tonight. Friend. Foe. I don’t even know the sides.”

  “Who was it? Maybe I can help you with that.”

  “Detective Jody Gates. And she was very interested in Misha.”

  “Was she.” Sylvan sighed and backed away a step, needing the distance to temper her aggression. She had no reason to feel territorial about this human. Another indication that she was riding too close to the edge. She would have to do something about that, and soon.

  “She asked me something else too,” Drake said. “If I’d seen any humans with Were fever.”

  “Have you?”

  “Not that I know of.” Drake rubbed the back of her neck in frustration. “And that’s a problem. I don’t know anything. Sophia won’t give me any information, because she says that’s up to you.”

  She looked into Sylvan’s eyes and immediately felt the pull—the wash of heat, the tightening in her depths, the stirring of excitement. She steadied herself, refusing to look away. Refusing to give in. “So I guess I need you to give me some answers. Because I don’t care if it’s a Were or a human, I intend to take care of the next one who comes in like Misha.”

  “You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for,” Sylvan said gruffly.

  “Then why don’t you explain it to me.”

  Sylvan almost smiled, wondering if this human had any idea that she had just challenged her with her steady stare, her tone of voice, her posture. If she’d been a wolf, Sylvan would have had her by the throat by now. As it was, she had to fight her wolf not to snarl and snap.

  Foolish brave human.

>   “I need breakfast.” Sylvan effortlessly vaulted the table, pulled open the door, and looked over her shoulder. “Join me.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Sylvan stepped into the hall where Niki and Andrew flanked the door, having positioned themselves to see anyone approaching from either direction. She’d scented their arrival a few minutes earlier.

  They must have run very hard to be only a few minutes behind her. For her the long distance had been a vigorous workout—for them it would have been exhausting. They would both need to eat soon.

  “Alpha,” Niki murmured. She and Andrew immediately crowded close to Sylvan, brushing their bodies against her in welcome, seeking reassurance after their separation.

  “Centuri.” Sylvan cupped the backs of their necks, caressing gently. “Who’s in the Rover?”

  “I had Jonathan bring it down,” Niki said, referring to one of the young dominants whom they had begun considering as a centuri. “I can call Max and Lara if you need—” Niki stiffened as Drake appeared next to Sylvan.

  “No need to call them.” Sylvan made room for Drake, creating distance between them so Niki would not perceive Drake as a threat to her. The centuri instinctively guarded the Alpha’s personal space, not trusting anyone close to her except her mate. They wanted to be present when she had sex, but were forced to tolerate her being unguarded then because she insisted on privacy. She had no compunction in her guards seeing her naked or in the throes of sex frenzy. But she wanted her partners to feel some degree of intimacy, since she would not give them what many of them wanted: a bond. “Dr. McKennan and I are going to have breakfast. You two should do the same.”

  “We’ll wait,” Niki snapped, staring at Drake. Andrew jerked his head in agreement.

  “You’ll both eat,” Sylvan said flatly and turned to Drake. “Where would you recommend?”

  “There’s a place right down the street. The Recovery Room.”

  “Let’s go.” Sylvan headed off and Drake matched her long stride.