Hunter's Edge

by Shiloh Walker

  Kel snarled, pressing the tip of the blade into Rafe’s throat. Flesh sizzled and smoke drifted up as the silver pressed into his skin.

  Voice dripping with derision, Kel repeated, “You know I love her? What the fuck is that…love? Love doesn’t touch it. She was my fucking life—the only thing that made the past twelve years bearable was knowing that what happened to me didn’t happen to her and I will be damned if I risk it happening now.”

  Alerted by either the noise or the obvious change in the air caused by Kel’s rage, every Hunter in the house came rushing in. Toronto went to block two of the younger vampires who went to grab Kel. Dom, his wound no longer bleeding, emerged from the gathered bodies and managed to block a shifter and another vamp. But there were six vamps and four shifters in the enclave, not including Rafe, his lieutenants or Kel.

  Four of them went for Kel even as Rafe barked out an order to stand down. All the years of them worrying that Kel’s control would snap had them reacting out of pure instinct and they took Kel to the ground. Rafe grabbed one by the neck and dragged him off, went to grab another.

  The air went tight, like it did right before a vicious storm. Tight and heavy, pressing down on them, but Rafe was so ticked off, he barely noticed it. “That’s enough,” Rafe snarled. He didn’t bother trying to control his own temper and as the innate power rolled out of him, two of the younger vamps pulled out of the fray—most likely without even realizing why.

  But the other two were older—Josiah was older than Rafe and Charlie just a few years younger. And—shit.

  Kel had managed to use the K-bar on Josiah and the older vamp was beyond pissed. The wound, although not lethal, was going to bleed like a bitch and hurt like hell. It went from the right upper part of Josiah’s chest and slashed down diagonal across his torso.

  Dominic and Toronto managed to get Charlie away, leaving Rafe to deal with Josiah who was busy smashing Kel’s knife hand into the floor with a force that would shatter mortal bone.

  Rafe didn’t quite believe his eyes when it happened.

  One second he was reaching for Josiah, mad enough to throw both Kel and Josiah through a wall—repeatedly. There was little warning—that weird tension mounted in the air and then his skin broke out in goose bumps. His hand closed around the back of Josiah’s shirt.

  His eyes saw what was happening, but his brain didn’t process what he was seeing until it was already done, until Josiah dropped downward, crashing into the floor.

  Crashing into the floor—because Kel was gone.

  Josiah swore and scrambled backward, a look of dumb amazement on his haggard face. His graying beard was kept cropped close and his long hair always pulled back away from his face. He rubbed his hands over his face, unintentionally leaving smears of his own blood on his cheek.

  In his mortal life, Josiah had been a bounty hunter and it wasn’t a stretch to picture the man in the Old West, chasing after wanted men and dragging them back to the hands of the law. He was rough, he was often too short-tempered, as quick to laugh as he was to fight and it wasn’t easy to catch him off-guard.

  Rafe was pretty sure he hadn’t ever seen that look of utter surprise on his face.

  “Fuck me… Tell me I didn’t just see that!” Josiah muttered, shaking his head.

  Charlie sent a scathing look at Josiah but it seemed more of a habit than anything. Before he’d been Changed, Charlie had been a Baptist minister in South Carolina—a bit of an oddity altogether, not just because he’d accepted his new life with a grace most people wouldn’t expect coming from a man of God. A bit of a pacifist, most of the Hunters had expected the man to be dead within a year—a Hunter that advocates peace seemed like he’d be easy prey for those who didn’t much buy the peace bit. Except Charlie had an intolerance for those who inflicted suffering on others—and it showed in his work.

  Josiah ignored Charlie, focusing instead on Rafe, his eyes disbelieving. “I didn’t just see that, did I?”

  Abruptly, Sheila laughed and Rafe sent her a narrow look.

  “This isn’t funny, Belle. This is bad. Hell-in-a-fucking-handbasket bad.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Her laugh faded, but the smile on her face didn’t. “Rafe, sweetie, a baby vamp just dematerialized right in front of us. He’s only been a vamp for what…twelve years? I’ve been doing this three times as long as he has and I can’t dematerialize. You have been a vampire for more than a hundred years, and you can’t do it. And then poor Kel—everybody feels sorry for him, none of you trust him any farther than you can throw him…” She broke off, winced. “Okay, you can throw farther than you can trust. Kel, a vamp twelve years—and he dematerialized. He’s not a Master, he can’t do that very cool mist thing and he doesn’t feed enough to keep an anorexic teen alive—and he just dematerialized.”

  Through gritted teeth, Rafe said, “I know what he just did, Sheila. I also know this is beyond bad news.”

  A sad smile curled her lips. “I don’t think you’re giving Kel much credit at all. I don’t see him hurting her.”

  “As a decent guy, I give him plenty of credit. But his control? It sucks,” Rafe said, his voice flat.

  Sheila lifted her gaze and glanced at the mass of bodies crowding the hall. She said nothing, but as one, they all withdrew until only Rafe, Sheila and his lieutenants remained. She ignored Dominic and Toronto, coming forward until she was close enough to reach out and cup Rafe’s face. “Rafe…what if it was me?”

  A muscle jerked in his jaw and the immediate blast of instinctive, protective rage had him reaching for her, dragging her soft body against his. “You think I haven’t thought of it that way? You think I don’t realize this is killing him? But he’s got too little control for this, Belle. You know that.”

  “Actually, no, I don’t.” She slipped her arms around his waist, lifting her face to his. “What I know is that he’s pissed off, he’s hurt—I know it’s because of her. I know he hasn’t allowed himself to go back there even just to see her one last time, because he doesn’t trust himself. But that’s caution, Rafe. That is control. More, it’s love. He won’t hurt her.”

  “Is it control or the only way a weak man can resist temptation?” Sighing, he dropped his head down and pressed his brow to hers. “Belle, I know he loves her. But…”

  Reaching up, she pressed a finger to his lips. “No. There’s no but in this, not for me. He won’t hurt her, he’ll die to keep her safe, and you know that. You’d do the same for me. Besides, if he doesn’t go, and something does happen to her…” Her voice faded away, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes.

  “If that happens, he’ll break,” Rafe finished, closing his eyes. Shit, he was such a screw up. This was happening under his watch. He was supposed to protect the men and women who chose to serve under him.

  Not let them go off half-cocked. Not let a feral slip so close to his territory and kill a woman who was sleeping with one of the men.

  “Rafe.”

  Lifting his head, he met Dom’s eyes across the hallway.

  “What do you want us to do?”

  He lingered in the warm comfort of Sheila’s embrace for another heartbeat, and then he eased back. “We have to go after him.”

  Sheila shook her head. “Bad idea, slick. You’re so worried about Kel’s control, but you want to put two dominant vamps in close proximity to his woman. What do you think that will do to his control?”

  “I’m aware of that,” Rafe snapped, his voice harsher than he’d intended. “Damn it. I’m sorry.”

  He turned away and pinched the bridge of his nose. Vampires weren’t immune to headaches any more than they were immune to heartbreak and the pounding within his skull had grown to massive proportions. “I’m sorry. But Sheila, I don’t see much choice. If we don’t go after him, and he gets hurt—killed, Angel is going to need protection. If he does somehow manage to kill the feral, then she will still need protection.”

  He turned in time to see her mouth firm into a flat line. Sh
e shook her head but before she could speak, Rafe said, “I want to believe he could control himself, too, Belle. But if he can’t, an innocent woman gets hurt—I can’t take that risk just because I want to trust one of my men.”

  And there was another if. None of the scenarios had much appeal but this one was the worst. “Sheila, I also have to think about what will happen if he can’t save her. We both know what will happen. He will break. He’ll shatter. I can’t have a walking time bomb out there among a bunch of innocent, unsuspecting mortals.”

  “I’ll go.”

  Sheila, Dom and Rafe all turned as one to look at Toronto, watching as he shoved off the wall. Vamps, shifters, they all had ways of measuring each other’s power and Toronto was a damned powerful shifter, but he was also the sort that usually thought, If it doesn’t affect me or the job… He rarely made an action or offer he didn’t absolutely have to.

  “One of us might not be enough,” Rafe said.

  A faint smile curled Toronto’s lips. “Depends on which of us is the one.” He went quiet for a minute and then, almost like he’d made an internal decision, he nodded. “Kel’s the main reason I’m here, Rafe.”

  Rafe blinked. Squinted his eyes and studied Toronto’s pretty-boy face, trying to deduct the meaning of that statement, but he couldn’t. “What exactly are you talking about, Toronto?”

  Toronto reached up and pulled out the leather thong restraining his hair, toyed with it in an absent, unconscious way as he started to pace. His hair, that long, silvery blond hair, hung loose around his shoulders, falling halfway down his back. It shielded his face from Rafe until the shifter lifted his head and faced the Master. “I was sent here. Told I might be needed.”

  “Sent.” Rafe’s voice was flat and disgusted. He didn’t have to ask who had sent him.

  There was only one answer.

  The Council.

  “You want to tell me why?” he asked, an edge of anger making its way into his voice. “Why in the fuck the Council sent somebody into my territory?”

  If Rafe’s anger bothered Toronto in the least, it didn’t show. His pale blue eyes reflected nothing of what he was feeling or thinking. His voice, when he spoke, was calm, almost bored. “Because the Council was informed it might be necessary. Don’t get bent out of shape over this. It has nothing to do with you.”

  His brows dropped low over his eyes and he stalked forward, putting his face in the shifter’s and snarled, “Since it has to do with one of my Hunters…”

  Sheila pushed between them, literally had to wedge her body between them. Toronto fell back with a smirk, hooked his thumbs in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels.

  “Your Hunters—yeah, but theirs, too. This is your pond, Rafe, but you don’t control all of them. You aren’t in charge of all Hunters. When the Council learns there may be something that can have destructive consequences to some or all of us, they do what needs doing.”

  “How can a pissed-off vampire with a broken heart have destructive consequences that could affect all of us?” Rafe demanded. His hair tumbled into his eyes and he shoved it back before folding his arms across his chest. It was that, or punch the shape-shifter in his pretty-boy nose. “And exactly what are you supposed to do about it?”

  “Considering what Kel’s heading into, I’m surprised you have to wonder what the consequences would be.” Toronto shrugged restlessly. “There’s a chance this woman could get hurt—could die. I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen. I don’t doubt Kel’s ability to handle the feral, not this time, not on this. Not when she’s involved. But the possibility is there that she could die. And we know what that would do to him. He’s been on the knife’s edge of sanity since he was Changed. He doesn’t need that push over the edge. If it happens, do you really need to ask why that could have destructive consequences?”

  “You’re thinking he’d go rogue,” Sheila said with a scowl.

  It was a possibility. It was one Rafe had been aware of for a long time, and it was why he watched Kel so closely. “And if he slips, what do you plan to do?”

  The look on Toronto’s face said everything.

  “Just like that.” Disgusted, Rafe turned away. “Just like that? He’s one of us—damn it, he never asked for this.”

  “No. He didn’t.” Finally, some sign of emotion worked its way onto Toronto’s face. “You think this is easy, Rafe? You think I want to think about pulling a bullet in his chest? I like him. I feel bad for the shit he’s gone through and I hate that none of us were there to save him. I respect the hell out of him for joining us even when it’s clear he doesn’t want to be here. But if he goes rogue, other innocent people will suffer…and my responsibility is to them. Before anything else, before everything else, my responsibility is to them.”

  “You’ve been here all this time, waiting to see if you’ll have to act as a Hunter’s executioner.” Dom finally spoke up, staring at Toronto with scathing contempt.

  “It’s what I do.”

  “Who appointed you judge and jury?” Dom demanded.

  “The Council.” Sheila answered when it was clear that Toronto wouldn’t. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

  “Hell, I don’t even have to ask.” Rafe shook his head, swearing under his breath. “You trained with the Select, didn’t you? As a fucking assassin.”

  Toronto’s lids flickered. But if Rafe expected to see some sign of remorse or regret, he knew he’d be waiting a damn long time. The Select, a hand-chosen unit of Hunters, weren’t chosen for their people skills. Or some lingering trace of humanity. They were chosen for their ability to do what needed to be done—things that most Hunters would hesitate over.

  “Right now the only thing I’m here for is to watch him.”

  He slipped past them then, walking away on silent feet, moving with the eerie, sinuous grace of a shifter. He disappeared from view and Rafe cursed.

  “Did things just get better or worse?” Dominic muttered. “What in the hell is the Select?”

  “Our version of Internal Affairs—a rat squad basically sent in on the jobs that are even ugly for us. Like when there’s a Hunter perceived to be a threat,” Sheila said.

  Dominic hadn’t spent years being trained at Excelsior. Rafe had taken over that responsibility. It happened sometimes, if there was an established Hunter willing to step in and oversee personal training for a new were or vamp. But some of the formal education, mostly boring academic crap Rafe hadn’t messed with, was missing from Dominic’s education.

  “So I get that somebody has decided that Kel could be a threat. Hell, we think Kel is a potential threat. But if Toronto thinks it’s necessary, he just kills him? Just like that?”

  Disgusted, Rafe said, “That’s the way it works.” Unable to stand still, he turned away and stalked into the living room off to the side of the hall. By the windows was a bar made of gleaming mahogany. Generally, Rafe wasn’t much for drinking but right now, he needed it.

  Dominic followed him. “That’s the way it works…and we just sit around and let it?”

  “Dominic, we can’t interfere,” Sheila said, following them.

  Rafe splashed some Jack Daniels into a glass and tossed it back, watching as Dominic wheeled around to stare at Sheila. “Why the hell not?”

  “Because the Select act on the orders of the Council. They don’t give these orders lightly but when they do, they are carried out. If we tried to get in the way…” Sheila’s voice trailed away.

  Rafe emptied his glass. As he refilled it, he finished her sentence. “The Select won’t stop, Kel. Not until the job’s done. If one of the assassins isn’t enough, they’ll send ten. Ten isn’t enough? Fine, there will be a hundred of them pouring out of the woodwork.”

  Dominic’s jaw dropped. Then he snapped it shut and shook his head. “This ain’t right, Rafe. They don’t know him. They can’t make a judgment like that without even knowing who in the hell they’re talking about.”

  “They do know who t
hey are talking about.”

  Whether they were too caught up in the rather harsh discoveries of the night, or just too damned exhausted from them, they were caught off guard as Toronto emerged from the hall, a duffle bag hooked over his shoulder. He didn’t come into the room, just stood in the doorway and looked from Dominic to Sheila to Rafe. “That’s why I was sent. To watch him, get to know him. If they were just going to make a rash judgment, they would have taken care of him before he even finished training. It was made damn clear at Excelsior that Kel’s hold on control left a lot to be desired.”

  “We don’t like doing this.” Toronto reached up and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, sighed tiredly. “I don’t like this. But I like the alternative even less.”

  He turned to go but then abruptly turned back to face Rafe. “I don’t plan on letting anything happen that would force me to act. I know what I’m doing… I’m good at it. Trust that even if you can’t trust me.”

  “What the…”

  Kel’s head was spinning. One second he was trying to free his hand, his head full of the scent of blood and his gut churning with the need to get to Angel—

  And then he was flat on his ass in a field with silvery moonlight the only illumination. Off in the distance, he could hear the sounds of traffic and through the trees, he saw the headlights of cars and trucks.

  Slowly, he sat up, stared around him and tried to figure out where in the hell he was. And how he’d gotten there. The busy interstate in front of him didn’t offer any clues, not from where he was. Nothing around him looked familiar—hell, the air even smelled different then it did in Memphis.

  So obviously he wasn’t in Memphis.

  Check.

  The exact where, and the exact how…? Kel had absolutely no clue to those. He shoved to his feet and turned around. His head—fuck, his head was pounding like a bitch. Muffled and foggy, too, like somebody had slipped him a couple of sleeping pills without his knowledge.