Hunter's Trail (A Scarlett Bernard Novel)

by Melissa F. Olson

  For his entire life, Jesse had always been happy to pay his dues, but now there was a part of him that was bored with hit-and-runs. He knew that there was excitement to be had in the Old World at any given time, and the opportunity to do some real good. For the first time in his career, he was tempted to take the easy way out.

  He hated that about himself . . . but he couldn’t just turn it off, either. The chance to investigate Old World crimes on the books, with department resources, was appealing as hell. Maybe if he’d been able to investigate Olivia Powell within the LAPD, things could have turned out differently. Scarlett might not have had to shoot Olivia just to save him from doing it.

  Besides, if he had Dashiell backing him, Jesse could have a word with the werewolves who’d threatened Scarlett. But taking a deal from Dashiell just felt . . . wrong. Then again, so did letting people kill each other in the Old World and doing nothing.

  Jesse’s thoughts went back and forth like this for a while, while Beatrice and Dashiell waited patiently and Will began to look restless, his knee jiggling up and down again.

  Finally Jesse took a deep breath. You’re overthinking it, he told himself suddenly. They needed him, and Scarlett needed him, and someone had to stop a werewolf who was probably going to kill again. That was what he had signed on for, wasn’t it? Stopping killers? He looked back at the three of them, forgetting not to meet their eyes. “I’ll work the case,” he said at last.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse saw Beatrice smiling widely, but in front of him Dashiell just gave a curt nod. “Good. One other thing.”

  He closed the gap between himself and Jesse in an instant. Jesse tried to wrench his gaze away, but it was too late. Suddenly, a massive force like water from a fire hose slapped into Jesse, knocking his chair neatly backward and pinning Jesse and the chair to the floor. The pressure wasn’t crushing him, but Jesse couldn’t breathe, as though a thousand gallons of gelatin were flattening him. Panic and instinct screamed alarm bells in his body, but Jesse could only watch as Dashiell stood over him, hands casually in his pockets, and said, “Do not forget your place. You have spent too much time around the girl, and not nearly enough time being afraid.” He bent over a little and added conversationally, “I could make you do anything I wanted right now, bestow any humiliation or degradation. And you would beg me for it.”

  He paused, a cold, inhuman intensity on his face. Even through his panic, the expression shocked Jesse. No one would mistake Dashiell for a regular man, not in this moment.

  “Instead, though,” Dashiell continued, his voice perfectly conversational, “I am simply flexing a muscle. You will not challenge me again.”

  He nodded to himself and turned away. As the eye contact broke, so did the magic, and Jesse rolled to one side, gasping for air, legs instinctively curling around his stomach. He used the motion to roll to his hands and knees, and when he looked up, Beatrice and Dashiell were gone and Will was standing next to him.

  “What . . . the hell . . . was that,” Jesse wheezed.

  Will crouched down next to him, elbows resting casually on his knees. “That was getting pressed by a cardinal vampire,” he said sympathetically.

  “I thought . . . But that was physical,” Jesse sputtered.

  Will tilted his head. “Mmm . . . yes and no. He told your mind to force your body backwards, and then to believe you couldn’t breathe or move. He pressed you; he just didn’t have to talk to do it.”

  “That is scary as shit.”

  “Yup.” Will held out a hand, and Jesse took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.

  “Suddenly I really miss Scarlett,” Jesse noted.

  “Well,” the werewolf said, with exaggerated patience, “go get her then.”

  Chapter 9

  Dr. Noring insisted I take some more pain pills, and by the time she’d finished fiddling with my knee, I wasn’t exactly inclined to argue. The pills made me sleepy, though, so I decided to haul myself upstairs and go to bed for real.

  It was the best sleep I’d had since first waking up with the knee injury. I was pretty sure the pills were the only thing keeping me from dreaming about the dead girl I’d destroyed, and I was pathetically grateful for it.

  I was awakened hours later by an excessively cheerful vampire bouncing on the foot of my bed. “Ow,” I complained sleepily. “You’re trampling my bad knee.”

  “No, I’m no-ot,” Molly sang. I opened my eyes. The clock beside me read 5:15, just after sunset. Geez. Apparently I’d been tired.

  Molly was grinning like she’d just pulled off a heist. She wore her most pedestrian pajamas: a simple organic T-shirt and light flannel pants that I privately thought had been tailored. “You look happy,” I observed. “Kick some werewolf ass, did we?”

  “Damn right,” Molly said smugly, in a weird foreign accent that I recognized. A couple of days earlier I’d talked her into watching Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey with me. “Man those guys can heal like nobody’s business,” she added in her normal voice. “Faster than us, even.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You didn’t actually hurt them, did you?”

  “Me?” Molly fluttered her eyelashes innocently, then grinned again. “Nah, cuts and scrapes only. I just kept knocking them down while they were trying to change. It was hilarious.” Her face lit up as she recalled. “The bitch got madder and madder, she was stomping her little foot like a three-year-old, and she was stark naked the whole time!” She chortled, mimicking Anastasia’s petulant expression.

  My spirits sank suddenly. “Go easy on Anastasia,” I said quietly. “She’s been through a lot.”

  Molly snorted. “Maybe she has, but that doesn’t give her the right to go all cray-cray on my girl.” She reached over to tousle my hair, which was hanging loose down my back. And down my front, and sticking up in the air . . . I’d been asleep for a while.

  “Stop it!” I protested, jerking my head away. “And nobody says cray-cray.”

  “It was meant ironically,” Molly said loftily. “Besides, she totally was. Scarlett, she thought you had a cure! I mean, yeah, being near you is nice and all, but if that’s her deal, why not just send her friend to stalk you or whatever?”

  “Will has a rule against it.”

  She arched an eyebrow skeptically. “But kidnapping is cool?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know, Molls. I don’t think Anastasia’s really thinking straight anymore.”

  Molly’s face turned serious. “Uh—they don’t know where we live, do they?”

  “No,” I said, thinking it over. “I don’t see how they would. Eli and Will both know, I think, but I can’t see them telling anyone, especially since Will warned the wolves to stay away from me. Do you know anybody Old World who would tell them if they asked?”

  “Nope,” Molly replied. “Most of the vampires don’t even know where I live, and the ones that do would never tell the dogs. And,” she added, “the deed isn’t in my current name, so I don’t think anyone could find us the old-fashioned way.”

  I always think it’s funny when vampires refer to anything as the “old-fashioned way.” I yawned. “We should be good then.”

  “What are you going to do next?” Molly inquired.

  I knew she was referring to the complicated situation of my job and the murder, since apparently I was back to work. But I sidestepped her question, saying simply, “I need to shower.”

  Molly had gone to a drugstore and purchased one of those handles that sticks to the wall of shower stalls, so I could at least shower without anyone having to help me, but keeping one hand on the handle at all times made everything take forever. When I finally hobbled back to my room, I brushed out my damp hair and tied it up, then dressed in a hunter-green pullover and the only jeans I owned that were baggy enough to go over my knee brace. Thank you, boyfriend style. I see your value now.

  I made my way downstairs, where Molly insisted that we go to the store for supplies so we could retry the sushi rolls ourselves. I kn
ew she was trying to distract me on purpose, but I gratefully allowed myself to be pulled along by her single-minded enthusiasm. I didn’t want to think about the dead woman, or Eli, or the werewolves who had jumped us at Will’s house.

  After a laborious trip to Trader Joe’s, where I essentially turned a cart into a giant scooter, Molly and I made sticky rice in her countertop rice-maker and started spreading supplies all over her small kitchen table. The project escalated, as Molly’s projects usually do, until by nine thirty we were eating raw cucumbers and cleaning up a literal explosion of sticky rice.

  So when the doorbell rang, I was completely unprepared for it.

  Molly and I both froze, staring at each other over the table. She moved first, announcing, “I’ll get it!” and trotting off toward the front door before I could respond.

  “Dammit, Molly, wait!” I called, exasperated. I grabbed my cane from where it was leaning against the table and hauled myself up to follow her, saying, “At least let me feel if it’s something Old World first, okay?”

  “Oh, right,” Molly said, stopping suddenly. If I’d been moving at a normal speed I would have run right into her. “Good idea.” She gestured grandly toward the entryway and intoned, “After you.”

  I hobbled to the front door, concentrating on my radius until I was satisfied that whoever was out there was definitely human. I went on tiptoes to look in the peephole—and saw Detective Jesse Cruz waiting patiently on the front step.

  “Oh,” I breathed, rocking back on my heels.

  “Who is it?” Molly asked curiously.

  “Shh! It’s Jesse,” I whispered distractedly. “I thought he didn’t know I was in town.” I stared at the door, uncertain. I hadn’t prepared a lie to explain my knee.

  Before I could come to a decision, Jesse yelled through the door. “Scarlett, I just came from your boss’s house. I know everything.”

  I opened the door. And whatever I was about to say fell out of my brain as Jesse just looked at me for a moment, a small smile on his face. “Hi,” he said softly, the smile widening into a grin.

  I always forget how beautiful Jesse is. I don’t mean beautiful in an androgynous sense—he’s very male, with an athletic, muscular build that looks like he came by it honestly, rather than having his body designed by a personal trainer at a fancy gym, which you see a lot this town. I mean “beautiful” the way you’d call a sculpture or a painting beautiful. Jesse looks like he was deliberately, lovingly crafted by an experienced artist who prefers natural fibers and earth tones. Which is a lot of words, so it’s simpler to just think of him as beautiful. I realized I was grinning back at him.

  “Hi,” I said back. We just stood there for a second.

  I could feel Molly looking back and forth between the two of us. “Aren’t you guys happy to see each other,” she observed, her tone amused. “Say, I think I’ll go clean up the kitchen.” I heard her walk away, but my eyes seemed to be stuck on Jesse. Then I remembered what I’d been doing and looked down at my clothes. Rice was stuck all over my shirt, and there were a few drops of soy sauce on my jeans. “Sorry, I wasn’t really expecting you.” I looked back up, puzzled. “Wait, you were at Dashiell’s?”

  “Yeah, they summoned me after work,” he replied.

  “They?”

  “Dashiell, Beatrice, and Will. We should talk.”

  “Right.” I looked around helplessly. We couldn’t talk near Molly—if Dashiell really had told Jesse what was going on, then he knew more than she did. And I’d promised Will I wouldn’t tell anyone else about changing Eli. “Um, we better go up to my room.”

  “Can you make it up there?” Jesse said dubiously. I followed his gaze down to the cane in my hand. I had forgotten about it while I was staring at him like an idiot.

  “Oh. Yeah. It just takes a while.”

  I gestured for Jesse to go up the stairs first. It would have been smarter to go in front of him so he could catch me if I fell, but baggy jeans or not, I vainly didn’t want him staring at my swollen leg as I limped up the stairs in front of him. I trailed him into my bedroom, where he doubled back to shut the door behind me. That put our faces about six inches apart and suddenly my small bedroom seemed even smaller than usual. He grinned at me again, white teeth flashing as his eyes crinkled. “I’m going to hug you now,” he announced.

  I laughed in surprise as he swept me into his arms. I hugged him back enjoying his familiar scent of Armani cologne and oranges. “I was worried,” he said simply. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He leaned back to study my face, and I thought for a second that he might kiss me. And it shamed me, because I wanted him to.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted out instead.

  “For what?” he asked, puzzled.

  “I didn’t know that they pressed you. I wasn’t a part of that decision.”

  He sighed and released me, taking a step back. “I know. You were unconscious.”

  Oh. “They told you about that, huh?” So they had told him about Eli. Awkward.

  He nodded. “And, although I don’t like it, with everything else that’s going on right now I think the fact that vampires pressed me last week is the least of our concerns.”

  I was starting to list back and forth, so I stumped over to the bed and sat down, shoving pillows under my right knee. Jesse had that look on his face, like he wanted to help me, but he also knew me well enough by now not to ask. I pointed to the folding chair leaning against the wall by the door and said, “You’d better fill me in on what you know.”

  His smile faded and then disappeared entirely. It was as though he was going from being just Jesse to being a cop by increments. “So you don’t accidentally give me more information than I’m supposed to have?”

  Ouch. “I guess I deserved that,” I said, trying to keep my voice level.

  Jesse’s jaw stayed clenched for another second, and then he shrugged. “Sorry, that was an overreaction. Being around those guys just makes me suspect every word I hear.”

  “Welcome to my world,” I said without thinking, and for a brief moment we shared a rueful smile. He was definitely in my world now, though I hadn’t exactly welcomed him at first.

  Then Jesse’s face hardened. “Well, I know you changed Eli back to a human, permanently. And Ariadne, last fall.” There was a note of professional coolness in his voice and I winced. I had been under orders to keep Ariadne’s status to myself. But if I was being honest, I’d also preferred to keep it a secret. It had been easier to just not think about it, especially after Olivia surfaced.

  “What was it like?” Jesse asked, softening a little. “Making someone human again?”

  “The first time, it was awful,” I admitted, remembering the sensation. “It was like . . . I don’t know, weight lifting without a spotter. But the second time, with Eli . . .” I closed my eyes, struggling for words. “It was like I held the edges of my radius with one part of me, and with another part, I called his magic.” I opened my eyes. “I collected it to me, and then I let the magic go.” My knee throbbed suddenly, like it wanted to remind me that nothing came for free, especially magical cures.

  “Wow,” Jesse said, in a tone that suggested he had no idea how else to respond.

  “Yeah.”

  “Could you do it again?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. Not for a while, probably. Will got me a doctor, and she doesn’t know if the seizure I had was because of the drug, or the stress, or the coma, or changing Eli. If I try again, I might have another seizure, or . . . you know, die.” I shrugged. “Or I could be completely fine.”

  Jesse had a very thoughtful look on his face, but he didn’t say anything else. I couldn’t get a handle on his mood and it was starting to make me nervous, so I changed the subject, asking him to fill me in on his evening.

  He walked me through his solo visit to Dashiell’s house, from when Hayne picked him up to when Hayne drove him back. My mouth dropped open when he got to the part about Dashiell flattening him. The thing is, whe
n someone from the Old World gets in my radius, I get a sense of how much power they have, and Dashiell had always felt strong—but for obvious reasons I hadn’t ever seen him actually throw his power around. I’d always thought of Dashiell the way cashiers probably picture a really controlling bank president. The fact that he could do that to someone wasn’t really surprising, but it was scary as hell.

  After I got over that, I realized I’d breezed past the important part of the story. “Wait, so you took Dashiell’s deal?”

  Jesse flinched. “You sound surprised.”

  “No, I just . . . I mean, are you okay with that?” I asked, very carefully. Who says I can’t learn diplomacy, I ask you. “I mean, helping me with crime scenes?”

  “No,” he admitted. “It seems like the lesser evil at this point, but it’s not really sitting right with me, either.” He wasn’t meeting my eyes, and his shoulders were stiff, his expression troubled. “Maybe we’ll manage to catch the guy before he kills again, and I won’t have to . . . you know.” He glanced at my face and then looked away again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said lamely, and Jesse gave me a tight nod in acknowledgment. That explained why he was being so weird—happy to see me one minute, resentful the next. I wanted to lean over and hug him, to tell him that it was going to be okay and he was doing the right thing by helping me. And in theory, I even believed that. The Old World had to stay hidden, period, and what I do is necessary for that. But I also understood that Jesse had just crossed a line he’d never imagined himself even touching, so I just changed the subject. “So . . . where do we start?”

  Chapter 10

  “We start where we always start,” Jesse said, his tone suddenly professional and relaxed at the same time. Back on familiar ground. “With what we know.”

  “What do we know?” I asked promptly. I know a cue when I hear one.

  Jesse pulled out his smartphone and touched the screen in a few places. “I stopped by the station on my way here to make some excuses,” he said, eyes intent on the phone. “While I was there, I took a look at the missing persons reports, on the off chance that I could get a hit quickly. We got lucky.” He held the phone up to me, showing me a picture of a young woman, blonde and healthy, grinning playfully at the camera as she tried to pull a big orange cat away from her chest. The cat’s claws were entangled in the woman’s cardigan sweater, and she looked like she’d just finished laughing or talking to the photographer. I recognized the slight hook to her nose and the smattering of freckles. “Would you say this is her?” Jesse asked, though it was obvious that he believed it was.