The Hunters 6: Rafe and Sheila

by Shiloh Walker

  Without saying another word, he moved past Ella and Rafe, pausing by Sheila. “I’ll do this. It will help.”

  She forced a smile and said thickly, “Yes. It will.”

  The gentle giant was gone, on silent feet, his big shoulders slumped, head downcast.

  Ella turned around and shook her head at them. “No. I won’t let him do it. Damn it, he has been used enough in his life—”

  Rafe interrupted, his voice low, commanding. “Let him be a man, Ella. There is not much he can do. Surely you can understand how frustrating this can be for him. Do you think he doesn’t know what he is? What he can do, he should be allowed. Give him some pride, at least.”

  Ella snapped out, “Pride? Feeding monsters like us is something to be proud of?”

  “No. Making a decision to help somebody and following through, that is something to be proud of,” Rafe replied levelly, folding his arms across his chest. With a raised brow, he said, “He is still a man. His mind never completely matured, and I realize he isn’t a wunderkind. But he is still a man. He has a man’s heart, and a man’s soul.”

  To that, Ella had no response.

  Rafe stared at her for a moment longer and then he walked way

  Sheila moved to Dominic’s side, lowering herself until she could prop her hip on the edge of the narrow bed. She heard Ella behind her, but she had nothing to say. She wasn’t a monster. She wasn’t pleased with what she was, but she wasn’t a monster.

  With a hesitant finger, she trailed her finger down her neck, feeling the raised ridge of the nasty bite there. Few vampires scarred with their sire mark, but she had—he had bit her once, shaking her like a dog would shake a plastic bone, toying with her, before he had bitten her and drank of her blood.

  Dominic had suffered as well. She could feel it… Rafe had sensed something inside Dominic, and through Rafe, she felt the echo of something awful. What had they done to him?

  His face was still, but no longer gray and gaunt. Behind his eyelids, she could see his eyes moving back and forth, and as she rested her hand on his chest, she felt the slow rhythm of his heart. I’m so sorry, she thought weakly. I don’t know why this happened to you, but I’m so sorry.

  “Are you sure this was the right thing to do? We are nothing but animals.”

  Sheila closed her eyes, frustrated with Ella, but pity moved within her heart as well. “No. We are what we make ourselves, Ella. The man who did this is less than an animal—he is a true monster. But I’m no monster. You aren’t a monster…Rafe isn’t…the people who trained me aren’t monsters,” she finally said. “You make your choices in this form of life, just like you did when you were human. And you will have to live with them…which means if you try to stop a good man from helping somebody helpless and weak, then you will sooner or later have to explain why.”

  “We are abominations,” Ella said, shaking her head, tears in her eyes. “An affront to God.”

  With a growl, Sheila shot to her feet, spinning around as she jerked the neckline of her shirt aside. “Look at this!” she snapped, moving her hair aside. “Do you see that? I suspect the man who changed you was no better than the one who made me. They are the monsters—I was a victim. You were a victim. I’m a damned Hunter…I save lives. I make a difference. I am no damned abomination.”

  “We shouldn’t have survived!” Ella shouted.

  Bending down and putting her face close to Ella’s, she snapped, “Then we would not have. If God wanted us dead, do you think for a damned minute that any power on this earth could stop Him?”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. “It is not that simple,” she whispered.

  Sheila turned away, shaking her head, shoving her hands through her hair, frustrated, she sat back down by Dominic and took his hand. “It is that simple, Ella. Life can be black and white.”

  * * * * *

  In the depths of the old plantation house, Pierre stalked the halls, swearing under his breath, full of frustration and rage.

  His strength had yet to return to him fully.

  That damned bastard Malachi, the witches—one day, though. One day he would be back to the powerful creature he had once been, and he’d hunt them down, stalk them like the sheep they were, and kill them.

  All of them.

  Especially that witch-bitch of Malachi’s.

  Oh, he knew what Malachi had done.

  That tawny-skinned creature had laughed at him, even though she had known she would die. He had heard her silent laughter as he’d fed on her, whispering into her mind.

  But his voice hadn’t caused fear.

  She had laughed. And taunted him in a strong, steady mental voice. They will kill you. I don’t care if I die or not, so long as they live…because they will have your ass.

  She should have died, in fear, in pain.

  But she had lived. Malachi, the noble Hunter who never Changed a mortal, had brought her over and saved her life.

  Now she was one of the most deadly creatures on earth.

  Both witch and vampire. Like Pierre. But as a mortal, Pierre hadn’t been that strong a witch. She was. Strong…very strong…

  It had been more than a year since that night and he had yet to regain his strength. And before he could finish off that rather handsome young man in the alley, something had come.

  A light—brilliant and as strong as the sun—had flooded the alley and from it, a man had walked out. Pierre had flung an arm over his face and in the moment that he had hidden from the light, panicked, the man had come, taken Pierre’s new toy, and disappeared.

  This was the third time someone in this city had robbed him of his prey. It wasn’t a Hunter. He’d have known. And a Hunter wouldn’t just take his prey—a Hunter would try to kill him. Try to Hunt him.

  Try.

  But until tonight, nobody had even made an attempt.

  The magick that had come snaking out of the dark had been like an assassin’s blade, sure, certain and deadly. Looking for him.

  It had found him as well, and retreated, before Pierre had even had a chance to send his own magick out to find the spellcaster. Pierre was an accomplished witch, with a great deal of power to his call.

  But he could only do so much. He had the power, but not the skill. Skill was something a witch leveled out on, and he had hit his peak long ago. Learning different magicks, different spells had given him an edge, but there was only so much for him to learn.

  Whoever this unknown witch was, he or she was his match.

  For a moment, he cursed that Indian bastard who had gotten away from him decades ago. His scarred little pet had befriended that freak and together, they had run away, and stayed hidden a very long time. Pierre had long since given up searching for his witch. But, through him, Pierre had been able to accomplish bigger magicks, and he’d had an untapped fount of skill and power.

  So far, none of the witches he’d taken had been equal. Now that little wolf-witch might have been a match, and then Malachi’s witch-bitch. Pierre shouldn’t have drained her without forcing some of his own blood down her golden throat. She would have been his then, and he’d once more have had access to the more powerful magicks.

  And he’d be able to figure out who had been tracking him now.

  It wasn’t the Hunter witch. The red-haired woman who still looked to be a girl. She lived here, or she had once. But she never came through here—at least not since Pierre had been trolling in Memphis.

  The first two years, it had been silent, the lesser vampires and weres leaving as Pierre’s net of power had spread across the city. But then that unknown witch had come the first time, saving a young woman, no more than girl really, before Pierre had even had a chance to break her lily-white skin.

  Then a pretty little boy witch, just barely out of his teens. It hadn’t been light that time. It had been fire.

  Or the illusion of it, at least. Convincing enough that Pierre had flinched away from it. And then the man had come, taken the witch, and disappeared into
the night while Pierre summoned a spell against the fire.

  The fire had died with the unknown witch’s leaving, though, which left Pierre to wonder if the fire had existed, or if he had just thought it did.

  Who was he? Never had Pierre seen his face—the man moved through shadows like a panther, swift and silent.

  “Merde.”

  “Master?”

  The slave who spoke from the shadows cowered as she rose from the floor, her eyes rapt on his face, full of fear, full of devotion. “Nothing,” he spat at her, turning away from her. Stalking to the window, he jerked open the heavy drapes, staring out into the night.

  As if losing his prey wasn’t enough, now he had something else to deal with. The unknown witch.

  And a new vampire in town.

  Pierre had felt the presence days ago, but ignored it. Eventually, all the vampires fled from him, without even knowing why. The aura of fear he emanated saw to that.

  But this vampire hadn’t fled.

  Whoever it was, this new vampire not only wasn’t worried—he was trolling. Not for prey, though. Pierre would know if another vampire was hunting for prey on his land.

  No. This vampire was searching for something…a monster…maybe even Pierre himself.

  Then that spell…

  When had such a powerful witch arrived? Pierre should have felt the witch’s arrival. And why in the hell couldn’t he find the witch who was stealing his toys away before he even had a chance to really play?

  Could they be one and the same? Was this witch a creature like himself, one who could cloak himself from prying eyes? That would explain why Pierre hadn’t felt the witch’s arrival. Or perhaps the witch had even been here first…yes.

  The same…the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. A witch powerful enough to face him, to steal his prey, he should have felt such a presence. But if the witch could cloak himself…

  The rage tore through him and he whirled, grabbing the quiet little slave and jerking her upward, lifting his arm and backhanding her. As she crumpled, he perked up a little, smiling at the rush of fear and pain that flooded the air. That was a little better. He slid his hand down and cupped her cunt, digging his fingers inside her. Even as she flinched in pain, she reached for him, and as Pierre let her wrap her arms around him, he kissed her, biting her lip.

  The blood that flooded his mouth was flat, almost tasteless, but the tang of her fear and hunger added some spice.

  He’d drained her too close. Fed her too much of his own.

  She just wasn’t much fun anymore.

  It was time for a new pet—one with a little stronger willpower. Once they broke, they just didn’t bring any pleasure.

  Chapter Five

  The ceiling overhead was gray, dank. Like he was underground. That would explain why in the hell he was so cold.

  Dominic had long since lost track of where he was, how long he’d been there. Nothing seemed real.

  Not that guy—

  Dominic shut that out of his mind. Hadn’t happened. Whatever nasty dreams lurked in his sleep were just dreams—not memories. It hadn’t happened.

  God—closing his eyes tightly, he flung an arm over his face, trying to block out whatever it was in his mind, whatever had happened… It lurked on the edge of his mind, like a forgotten song, almost there, just out of reach. But not far enough. It was still so close.

  Not far enough.

  The horrid pain in his neck was finally fading away. It had been more like a low-level toothache for days, but before that, it had been obscene in its intensity.

  Now it was all but gone. And when he touched his neck, the ragged flesh felt smoother, like it was healing.

  Thinking of the pain made memories flow through his mind again. Damn it, why couldn’t he just stop thinking about it?

  The ceiling. Dominic stared at the ceiling. If he could just focus on the ceiling, stare at it long enough, hard enough, he’d zone out again, slide back into sleep, and maybe, just maybe he could dream sweet dreams again.

  * * * * *

  Rafe felt Dominic waken.

  Crouched in the trees, he stared at the lights in the distance, sighing as he felt Sheila move toward Dominic.

  Until Dominic learned to shield a little bit, Rafe would have to block him out, otherwise he would feel every damned thought that moved through his head. And Sheila…he was so acutely attuned to her that he had to concentrate to block her out of his head.

  And he didn’t want to be linked with her while she was near Dominic. Hell, if Dominic was within a hundred-mile radius, he didn’t really want to be around. But he had eliminated any chance of that, the minute he’d used his strength to bond Dominic as he’d worked through the change.

  Slamming his shielding down, he rose and started back down the trail that led to Ella and Robbie’s home. Hunger growled and rumbled in his belly but it wasn’t his. It was the echo from Dominic.

  The moment he stepped through the door, he felt Robbie’s eyes on him. Saw the nerves and worry there. Arching a brow, he said softly, “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I think I do.” Robbie’s dark eyes looked just a little more…normal, Rafe decided as he stared into them and felt the witch’s resolve.

  Ella huddled in the corner, her eyes troubled and dark. “You do not have to,” Ella whispered. “Why do you think you have to do it? They’ll find him something, Robbie. It doesn’t have to be you. You saved him already. You owe him nothing. You don’t have to do this for him.”

  “I have to do it for me,” Robbie said quietly. He swallowed, shaking his head. “I don’t want to be afraid all the time.” His eyes moved to Rafe, and Rafe felt a terrible rage burn through him at the fear in Robbie’s eyes. “He was bad, the man who made Ella, the one who locked me up all the time, starved me, beat me, if I didn’t do what he wanted. He made me afraid. I never used to be afraid.”

  His eyes closed and those big shoulders drooped for a moment as he whispered, “I’m tired of being afraid.” He sounded more like a child than a creature who had walked the earth for decades, if not centuries.

  A surge of resentment flooded Rafe as he moved aside and let Robbie approach Dominic. That was one hell of a man—he had the heart of a man, the pride of a man, locked forever inside the mind of a kid.

  Sometimes, life really sucked.

  As if to echo that thought, he felt Sheila moving up behind him. The scent of her filled his head, and he felt that hunger for her awaken. His cock ached, his heart ached, his hands ached…ached to hold her, touch her, make her love him again.

  She had, once. He’d killed it, and now he had lost her.

  Rafe shoved the emotions aside, shrugging out of his coat, tossing it on the table before reaching for the blade at his spine. Laying the blade atop his coat, he turned and studied Dominic.

  Crossing to him, Rafe said softly, “How do you feel?”

  “Like I’m dead.” The words were flat, empty and cold.

  Rafe cracked a grin. “You aren’t. I can promise you that.”

  Robbie moved out of the shadows slowly, pausing to look at Rafe. Rafe smiled tightly. “It’s okay, Robbie. Go ahead.”

  Dominic jerked his eyes to Robbie as the witch moved up to the bed, kneeling beside him. “You need to feed. A heavy feeding, from somebody truly alive—Robbie said he’d feed you,” Rafe said quietly.

  “I don’t want to feed,” Dominic muttered, turning his head to the wall and closing his eyes.

  “If you don’t feed, you’ll stay weak,” Sheila murmured.

  “What the fuck does it matter?”

  His voice was weary, despondent. Rafe sighed, shoving a hand through his hair before moving to stand over the bed. “You just want to lie there? Whipped? He wins, that way. You can lie there, and let him get away with it. Or you can get stronger. When you’re stronger, you can join us and help us stop men like him from doing this to others.”

  No response.

  Sheila tried to force a smile a
nd Rafe felt his heart clench at the pain in her eyes. “Dominic, it will be okay. This… I know this has changed things for you, but that doesn’t have to be bad.”

  Sheila flinched as Dominic turned his head and stared at her. The black, burning gaze was so full of fury, Rafe automatically moved to stand protectively in front of Sheila, flashing his fangs at Dominic.

  “You don’t know anything,” Dominic snarled, ignoring Rafe as he sat up slowly, swinging his legs around and planting his feet on the floor as he used his hands to brace his weight. “Nothing.” Jabbing a thumb to the healing gash on his neck, he snapped, “You really think being made into some sort of freak is what I’m pissed about? You don’t know what they did.”

  Rafe turned around as Sheila gasped softly and wrapped his arms around her, lowering his head to murmur in her ear. “Easy, pet,” he whispered, stroking his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion as he watched two tears, diamond-bright, trickle down her smooth cheeks.

  Her hands came up to his waist and she squeezed him gently, forcing a smile. “I think maybe I should go. I’m not helping.” She moved back and turned around, walking away with her shoulders slumped. She paused in the doorway and without turning back, she whispered, “I think I understand better than you realize, Dominic.”

  Rafe said nothing as he listened to the soft fall of Sheila’s footsteps. Once she had left, he turned and looked at Dominic with cool eyes that hid the hot fury that moved through him. That wounded look in her eyes had infuriated him.

  “I’m going to make a few exceptions—normally, I’d tear apart somebody who put that kind of pain in her eyes. But you’ve had a rough time lately, so you get a free pass. Don’t do it again.”

  Dominic’s lip lifted in a sneer and he said, “I don’t need little Miss Sunshine murmuring platitudes to me. The party girl doesn’t know shit about what I went through.”

  Rafe cocked a brow. “They raped you. You think you’re the first man they’ve done it to?” he asked bluntly. “That party girl was changed by a man she loved. They were going to be married and then he disappeared. Somebody bit him and Changed him, and ten years later, he came back after Sheila. Only he wasn’t the boy she’d loved. Wasn’t even a man, really. The Change had turned him into an animal. A monster. Any idea what a vampire can do to a human woman? He tore her apart.”