The Jaded Hunter

by The Jaded Hunter(Lit)

  "That is why I thought you were young," she sighed in sudden understanding. "I was reading him not you."

  "Yes," he admitted. "And then I blocked my age from you to confuse you."

  "And what did this vampire do? What constitutes a crime to the council?" she asked quietly.

  "He tried to frighten a woman into labor and when he succeeded, he tried to make a vampire mother and baby." The assertion was dispassionate. His eyes cold as he recalled.

  "Duncan," Jaden said with a shake of her dark auburn hair. She ran her fingers through the locks, pulling them absently back from her face. She stared into the flames in awe.

  "You knew him?" Tyr questioned, growing cautious. He watched every subtle movement carefully.

  "I killed the mother and child after he left them in the alley." The task still made her gag to think on it. She saw the baby’s purple face, still squirming and wet from its birth, its skin paling from its sudden rebirth. "I thought I was hunting him in New Orleans. It’s where...."

  "Your uncle sent you to look," Tyr concluded. He predicted as much. He didn’t want to believe Jaden could kill her own father, even if he was a vampire and her technical enemy. Despite his facts, he wanted to believe the best in her.

  "And Duncan?" she queried softly, still refusing to look at him. "Did he get away?"

  "No," Tyr murmured. "I found him again. He is dead."

  "Well, that is one thing solved, isn’t it?" Jaden whispered. She was glad to hear it.

  "The woman and child were not your fault. You did what you had to do. I was sent to do the same thing, if they were still alive," he said. It was the truth. A baby couldn’t take care of itself. That is why the sacred laws forbade the changing of children and helpless ones. The mother would’ve gone mad at such a loss that she would’ve been a wild vampiress, unable to show control. Experience taught that it was better that she joined her infant.

  Jaden nodded, not answering. She looked at her hands, hands that had held so much ash and death in them. A moment of silence passed, marked by the crackling of fire. Suddenly, she said, "You know you should have some music or something in here. It is much too quiet."

  "Mmm."

  "I am tired of these games," she admitted at last. She thought of the file. Her decision made, she knew she would show it to him. She had to know the truth of what Mack had done and what she had been involved with. "You already know the worst of what I have done. So let us come clean and be honest. Then maybe both our lives can get past this disruption. You can go back to your council and I’ll go back to doing whatever it is I do."

  "Honest," he repeated softly, very much liking the idea in its simplicity. The steady tips of his fingers brushed lightly over his bottom lip in thought. The ice seemed to melt a bit from the blue of his eyes. He wanted desperately for there to be honesty between them. It was so much simpler than the deceit they had been practicing.

  "Yes, I’ll tell you what you want to know, if you tell me what you’ll do with me."

  "I have been ordered to study you and, in a few days, I’ll bring you to the council with what I have learned. They wish to meet you," he answered squarely. He watched her face to see how she would take the news.

  "What?" Jaden gasped in surprise. She was to meet the council? Be set before them? Suddenly all the stories she’d read about what was done to captured bloodstalkers entered her mind--the countless years of pain, being brought to near death only to be saved and tortured again and again until the vampires grew bored with your screams. An involuntary shiver racked her body. With years of learning patience, it could be a very long time until a vampire grew bored.

  "If you are innocent enough, they won’t harm you," he said.

  But I’m not innocent! she screamed silently. Now she couldn’t show him the file. What if they thought she was involved? She didn’t know what the files said, but she was sure it would be incriminating.

  Even after all she learned of her uncle, she wasn’t sure she wanted him harmed. He was her only family. He was the only one who ever really cared for her. He deserved a chance to explain himself to her before she turned him over to the tribal leaders.

  "Now, it is your turn." His dark eyes swam with dangerous emotions, daring her to defy his claim. "First, what happened in New Orleans?

  Jaden gulped. Her eyes started to haze and Tyr was afraid she wouldn’t be able to answer. Her gaze focused on his old claymore. But, to his surprise, she told him the whole story with monotone precision, not leaving out one detail. When she finished she inaudibly added, her voice close to choking, "He could’ve fought me. He didn’t even try to defend himself and I delivered him into death. I stalked him and captured him so that the others could take him."

  "But you didn’t know the other’s were there," he said reasonably.

  "Thinking back, I had sensed them. I should have been more cautious. It was my carelessness that did it. Now my father is dead and I--I’ll never be able to beg his forgiveness. He was my father, my blood, and I destroyed him." Jaden took a deep breath, letting it escape her slowly. She hoped some of her pain would go out with it. Tyr watched her, knowing she needed to talk of something else.

  "What do you know of your uncle’s dealings?"

  Jaden wavered uncertainly, thinking again of the file hidden in her bag. Clearing it from her mind, she couldn’t meet his eyes. Tyr saw her falter.

  "He tracks vampires," she said softly, staring at her lap. "He tracks those who commit atrocities against humans. Sometimes families who have lost a loved one donate money to the cause and then Mack tracks the vampire who killed their loved one. He sends the guys out after them."

  "And then what does he do with them once he captures them," Tyr asked, already suspecting the truth.

  Jaden looked at him in confusion. "They are killed. We never ‘capture’ them."

  "What about the one in the park?" he probed. "She wasn’t killed. In fact, she had never killed herself. She was newly turned."

  "I--I," Jaden scratched her brow thoughtfully. "I don’t know. I have never taken a prisoner. There would be no reason to. Your disease can’t be cured."

  "And what about the ones you track?" he continued, darkening as he thought, Disease?

  "They are like Duncan," she spoke softly. Her eyes bore piercingly at her thigh, as if she might set it on fire with her turmoil. The bruise was all but faded from it.

  "Are they?"

  "Yes," Jaden gulped.

  "And you’ve witnessed all of their crimes? You know for certain?" Tyr probed. His eyes dug intently into her.

  "No, I--" she paused. Her gaze darted helplessly to his.

  "You what?" he demanded. "You said you wanted honesty."

  "I took Mack’s word for it," she whispered. "Most of them I could sense once I had them down. But, occasionally, Mack showed me their file and I went off of that."

  "So you don’t know that all the ones you killed deserved it?"

  "Yes, no I mean, I did when it happened. I could feel the death on them. I could smell it. Sometimes I could even taste it. And vampires are evil, were evil. You kill to live," she muttered vulnerably. "I really thought I was doing the right thing. This is a war against species and I have my side."

  "Thought?" he questioned sharply. "You said you thought you were doing the right thing."

  "I don’t know anymore. I don’t know anything anymore," she allowed. Tyr was confusing her. When she looked at his face, it wasn’t the passionate lover of a few days ago. It wasn’t even a friend. It was her interrogator, her punisher. She was a fool for ever daring to hope in the briefest moment of weakness that he could be anything else to her. He didn’t feel, just faked it really well by mimicking the emotion he had seen in his victims. All vampires learned the trick. Stiffening her resolve, she determined that she would never be a fool again. If she was attracted to Tyr, she was only attracted to an illusion.

  "So you don’t know what Mack does with the women he captures? You’ve never heard talk, seen pictu
res, heard a rumor?" Tyr watched her carefully. He knew she was going to lie before she even spoke. He could feel it and still he waited in anticipation, hoping for the first time in centuries that he would be wrong. He wasn’t.

  "No," she answered furtively. She shaded her gaze from his.

  "You’re sure?" he asked, giving her another chance. He knew what was coming, but part of him wanted to deny it. His eyes glazed as he waited for her to speak.

  "Yes, I’m sure." She lifted her chin, turning her eyes coldly to his. "I don’t even know if Mack is aware of the captured woman. You took me away before I had a chance to ask him. The capture was Tom’s doing. Maybe you should ask him. Mack would never be involved in anything remotely unseemly."

  "I think I’ve learned all I need to know," he said after a long moment of studying her. He didn’t like what he found. The disappointment strangled him. The tale of her father’s death, though horrible, could’ve been forgiven. But for her to cover and lie about her uncle’s crimes made her just a big a part of them as Mack was.

  "And what about me?" she whispered. "What are you going to do with me?"

  "I’ve already told you. In a few days, you’ll meet with the council." Tyr stood, going to move away from her, out the side of the cave. His movements were stiff, losing some of the grace she had grown to know in him.

  When Jaden was all alone, emptiness surrounded her. It went against her instincts to lie to Tyr. But she couldn’t trust her instincts anymore. She had to trust her brain. Emotion only got in the way and she couldn’t be sure her innermost feelings were not of Tyr’s evoking. The Dark Knight was a powerful being. She had felt it in him many times.

  But, even as she was certain of it, she prayed she’d done the right thing in keeping the file from Tyr and thus protecting her uncle. She considered burning its contents, but it would be a risky endeavor to do so without being caught in the act. Tyr would be able to smell the burning paper almost immediately and with his ability to control fire at will, he could smother the flames before they did their work. Or, if he chose, he could reach into the fire and pluck the paper from its heat. Either way, the potential for him to discover their contents was great.

  Defending Mack wasn’t a hard call, logically. She was more a human than a vampire’s daughter and she would have to pick the side of her people. She easily rationalized that she had no way of telling what was inside the mysterious folder. Warring with her gut, Jaden tried to convince herself that the pictures only told a half-truth that would make complete and perfect sense once explained.

  If Tyr did evoke her into feeling more in him than there was, then everything she felt was a lie. Logic told her it was a lie. Logic was cold comfort to a bleeding and broken heart. Moisture burned inside her eyes and stung her nose. She repressed it down into the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t trust him and she couldn’t trust herself since meeting him. There was only one thing for her to do. The very thing she set out to do in the first place.

  * * * *

  Island of Mykonos, Cyclades

  The metropolitan island club of Mykonos thrived with the ambiance of drunken drag queens with high-spun hair of all colors and carousing businessmen, with discarded jackets and rolled up sleeves, on their luxury yachts. It was an odd mixture of subcultures, blended into the ancient land of the Greek Gods, backdropped by whitewashed buildings created by unknown folk artists, sandy beaches, water that was bright and clear during the day but now the blue-black of a starry night. Narrow pathways weaved intricately through nightclubs and churches, homes and shopping nooks.

  Music poured out into the streets, following patrons as they hopped from one nightclub to the next. Drunken humans stumbled around, thinking the undead gazes in their midst were just more of the same eccentric travelers, blending in with the beautiful surrounding, beckoning a drunk mate for just ‘one night of naughty pleasure.’ And the travelers would say to themselves, Why not? It is a vacation, before falling prey to the deepest of unearthly kisses.

  It was easy pickings for the vampires who inhabited the sacred land of Delos only eleven miles away by boat. No human ferries left for Delos after dusk or before dawn as it was illegal to stay on the ancient island over night--and for good reason. The hot daylight might be a time of exploration to the tourists seeking out Greek history. But the night belonged to the vampire and they didn’t appreciate intruders.

  The night provided safe passing for the undead. Their arranged crafts blended into the dark waters, mixing with the yachts docked into harbor. Mykonos was a natural stop for any vampire traveling to meet with the council hidden beneath Delos’ surface.

  The council’s whereabouts was not common knowledge amongst the undead and the island’s vampire population was kept on close watch by the Vrykolatios to make sure such secrets were not discovered. But, for the rare human knowing of the island secrets, Mykonos was a perfect place to hide. The rowdy crowds thronged the streets, making disguises various and easy to come by. Besides, one human smelled as ripe as the next to those who watched from shadows.

  Mack strode easily through the crowd, wearing a cardigan sweater with his jacket and slacks, a smile pasted plainly on his face, creasing the lines next to his elegant mouth. Occasionally, he would laugh, turning his head to some alcohol induced antic. Inside, he didn’t feel the joy, concentration burning deep as he plotted and schemed. Behind him, strolling as unknown passer-bys trailed Rick and Tom, pretending to enjoy each other’s company with easy smiles and hard, watchful eyes.

  Stepping over the cobblestone streets, Mack turned past one of the noisy clubs boasting an awful rendition of karaoke music. The surrounding crowd cheered the hapless singer on. Coming to a darker corner hidden from the busy streets, Mack stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Tom and Rick stride past. Neither one of them stopped or acknowledged they saw him turn.

  "You are late," Pietro’s voice said from within the darkness.

  "It couldn’t be helped," Mack answered in low tones before turning around. Grabbing a handkerchief from his front jacket pocket, he blotted the sweat from his brow. "I wanted to be sure I wasn’t followed."

  "You were not," Pietro said. His stood still, his hands folded before his stomach, his fingers pressed thoughtfully against each other. At length, he said, "It is a wonder that you are so cautious, being as a document of yours was taken from one of your men."

  "What document?" Mack asked, swallowing to hide his fear. He thought of Jaden.

  "No, not the dhampir," Pietro said, reading the thought. Mack cleared his mind. "It was a directive stating a client’s wishes to bed a chained vampire woman. It was very careless of you, MacNaughton, to leave a trail. I should expect better from you in the future."

  "You have no proof that it is mine," Mack began in weak defense. He never wrote down orders … unless it was one of his men.

  Pietro grimaced, holding up his hands to stop any protest that Mack might make. He didn’t care about the atrocities of the human race. "I care not how you make your fortune for it suits me that you have it."

  Brusquely, Mack nodded. Pietro never asked the details of what he did, but deep down he had a feeling the vampire knew. Lowering his eyes in respect, he asked softly, "What news of my niece? Is Jaden safe?"

  "For the time being," Pietro said, giving the man neither hope nor comfort. He drew back as a noisy throng stalled near the alcove’s entrance. Mack ducked into the shadows. They waited as a woman crawled on the ground looking for her lost earring. A man came up behind her. Sweeping her up by the waist, he carried her away amidst the clamor of tumultuous laughter and promises of more jewels to replace the one she dropped.

  When they were once again relatively alone, Pietro added, "Tyr still has her. Their location is only known to a few. In three nights, the council has ordered that she be brought to them for questioning. They are very curious as to your business practices."

  "Jaden doesn’t know a thing," Mack declared. He veiled his emotions. Pietro had no desire to read into
him and that suited Mack’s purpose just fine.

  "Good," Pietro said. "So if you fail, there will be no answers she can give."

  "Fail?" Mack asked.

  "In rescuing her, you’ll have one chance to liberate your precious dhampir and capture the elusive Tyr. When they come to the island to cross over to Delos, you must have your men ready. And you must kill the boatman. There can be no witnesses. I’ll take care of the council. I’ll tell them Tyr never delivered the girl. They will think he betrayed them. It is important that you do not let him escape. When you are done with the knight’s blood, kill him."

  It was the most Mack had ever heard Pietro utter in one grouping. Mack shivered, feeling the coldness of the old vampire’s gaze, the hatred he had for his own kind.

  Taking a deep breath, Mack answered, "It will be as you say."

  "Make it so." Pietro lowered his head.

  Mack, knowing what was to come next shrugged out of his jacket and began rolling up his sleeve. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one watched before lifting his arm to Pietro’s mouth in offering. Pietro reached for him, his cold fingers snapping out like the brittle limbs of fall trees. He stopped to glance over the mortal’s shoulder.

  Mack turned, seeing Rick standing in the entryway. A scowl etched the soldier’s questioning features as he came forward. His eyes darted from Mack’s offered arm to the vampire disappearing above them.

  Mack turned, his eyes moving above his head to look at the night sky. Tugging down his sleeve, he pulled on his jacket. Rick watched carefully, his chest fuming, his jaw working in mounting anger and suspicion. He glared in barely tempered warning.

  "Are we consorting with vampires now, Mack?" he said. His hatred for the undead etched into every word.

  Tom came running around the corner. He skidded to a halt seeing Mack’s calm face confronted with Rick’s anger. Tom hesitated. Then, glancing guiltily at Mack, he said, "I’m sorry, Mack. He got away from me in the crowd."

  "You knew about this, Tom?" Rick asked, backing away from both of them in disbelief. "You knew he was consorting with the enemy? What the hell is going on?"