Hunter and Hunted (The Shifter Chronicles 4)

by M. D. Grimm

  But—why was Hunter taking care of him if he was a knight?

  It had to be a trick. A strange trick that would lead to the Knights finding out about his herd. That had to be it. But Glenn had never heard about the Knights using this tactic. His deer pushed him to flee, trembling in anxiety.

  Glenn zipped the jacket to his chin and noticed Hunter’s bag. He pulled it closer and rummaged through it. He found the bottle of Advil and popped a couple of pills before sticking the bottle in one of the jacket pockets. He was determined to escape despite his wobbly legs. Hunter was obviously a good tracker, but Glenn knew this forest, and he wasn’t in a panicked flight anymore, despite his deer’s urgency. He limped away, careful not to pull out his stitches. His bare feet stung as he walked on sticks and stones, and he gritted his teeth, pushing forward.

  The ground soon sloped down, and Glenn grabbed branches to keep from tumbling. He knew where he was going. His home wasn’t far from the knight’s camp, maybe three to four miles southwest. He made sure to stay away from soft soil, to lessen the chance of leaving a footprint. He caused minimal disturbance of the foliage and dirt, trying to pretend he was in deer form. Yet he couldn’t think too much like a deer—it could trigger the shift, causing his body to churn and his skin to ripple.

  The sky darkened, and Glenn fought against exhaustion. He’d lost a lot of blood, and he hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. He needed water, though was wary of going near a stream. It would put him out in the open. Panting, Glenn found a fallen tree and sat on the trunk. He gripped his head as it spun, becoming nauseated. Great, as if he didn’t have enough problems.

  He ended up dozing there with his chin resting in his palms and his elbows on his knees. But the sudden sounds of twigs snapping and leaves rustling startled him awake. He was always a light sleeper when he spent the nights outside his herd’s house. Glenn straightened, sitting still and silent. Goosebumps erupted along his body and he resisted the urge to shiver. The temperature had dropped severely, and Glenn didn’t know if he would be able to survive through the night.

  A tall body suddenly became visible in the stray moonlight that managed to penetrate the thick foliage above them. Glenn took a deep breath and knew who it was. He felt a strange combination of fear and relief.

  Why the hell would he feel relief?

  His deer was equally confused, still viewing Hunter as a threat.

  Hunter stopped upon seeing him, his sturdy body annoyingly alluring in his camo pants, hiking boots, and tight-fitting sweater. His steps were steady and his gait, as he walked cautiously toward Glenn, was elegant despite his bulk. Glenn couldn’t help but be impressed. There weren’t many humans who could move with such ease. Hunter made it look effortless. Glenn took secret pride in the way he could move gracefully both as a deer and a human, which allowed him to gain attention when he sought it. Men would always turn their heads when he walked down the street or entered a club.

  Shaking himself, Glenn managed to stand, despite his frozen limbs, and faced down Hunter. Finally, his deer turned to defense when they realized they were too weak to continue on and the cold was becoming too much.

  “You shouldn’t be going off on your own,” Hunter said from several feet away. “Not in your condition. Your stitches—”

  “I don’t need a knight to take care of me,” Glenn said scathingly, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t need to be any louder since their surroundings were completely silent. His skin rippled as his deer tried to take control so they could bound away.

  “I’m not,” Hunter said. “I’m a man taking care of you.”

  Glenn’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you’re not a knight now? It’s too late for that.”

  “All I’m saying—” Hunter sounded like his patience was wearing thin as his tone became harder. “—is that I am more than just a knight. I’m a man who doesn’t want to see you die.”

  “Right,” Glenn said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Like I’d believe anything a knight has to say.”

  Hunter stared at him, his hands fisted, his body still. Glenn exhaled, his breath fogging before him. He started to tremble but stood his ground.

  “I’m not just a knight,” Hunter said softly. “Are you telling me that shifters are as closed-minded as the Knights?”

  “What?” Glenn asked, confused.

  “You say all knights are monsters,” Hunter said. “But the knights who raised me said that all shifters are monsters. I don’t think you are a monster. So couldn’t it be conceivable that I’m not a monster?”

  Glenn paused and tilted his head slightly. He stared at Hunter as a violent shiver rocked his body. He hunched his shoulders and tried to focus on what Hunter’s words.

  “Please.” Hunter took a step toward him. “Please, Glenn. You’re going to die if you don’t let me help you. Just—just let me get you warm tonight, okay? I swear on my life, I won’t harm you.”

  Did he have a choice? Although he would rather die from exposure than endure the tortures the Knights would inflict upon him. “Prove that you mean me no harm.”

  “How?” Hunter asked, his tone a plea.

  “Leave me.” A shiver went up Glenn’s spine and his teeth started to chatter. “Leave and go to your camp. Then let me choose if I follow you.”

  Hunter looked like he wanted to argue—in fact, he opened his mouth, his brow furrowed in anger. But then he stopped and shut his mouth again. He took a deep breath and seemed to get control over himself.

  “Fine,” Hunter said with bite. “If you want to be a stubborn ass about this, fine. Don’t blame me if you die.”

  He stomped away, his body stiff. His footsteps died quickly and Glenn was left in silence. Glenn sat heavily, needing a break from standing. That Hunter actually left as he’d demanded stunned him. It corroborated Hunter’s story, that he wanted to earn Glenn’s trust and learn from him about shifters. Or was this still part of the trick? But would a knight risk losing a prize from exposure? It made Glenn pause and reevaluate. He knew he was in danger of dying, which meant his options were few. His deer was more confused than before, was Hunter a threat or something else?

  “Guess we better find out.” His deer reluctantly agreed.

  Glenn stood with focused effort and stumbled back the way he’d come. Well, if Hunter was tricking him, the knight wouldn’t get much out of him if he were dead—so Hunter would try to keep him alive. Once Glenn was healthier and stronger, he could easily escape and get to his father. Feeling more confident and in control, Glenn kept walking, his body trembling from the cold. As he got closer to the camp, he came around a particularly thick tree to discover Hunter sitting on a stump, his arms resting on his legs and his head bowed. Glenn stopped and Hunter lifted his face. He looked relieved.

  Hunter stood and gestured that Glenn should go first. Glenn felt frozen solid and didn’t argue when Hunter grabbed his arm and helped him. Hunter’s hold was firm but painless, and when Glenn had to lean on him to continue walking, Hunter said nothing.

  The knight led him to the same camp he had awoken in and helped him sit. Hunter immediately started a fire, while Glenn grabbed the blanket Hunter had given him and wrapped it around his legs. He curled into a ball and rubbed his chest, shivering violently.

  “We’re not far from where I stitched you up,” Hunter said a short time later. “I had to find a more secure and hidden place before I searched for firewood. And I didn’t want to move you far, given your condition.”

  Then Hunter gave Glenn a disapproving look, and Glenn found himself staring deeply into those expressive eyes. The flames danced inside the brown irises, and Glenn’s thoughts wavered away from the danger he was in to more pleasurable pursuits. He shook his head and wrenched his gaze away. To his dismay, his deer also wanted a better look.

  Hunter grabbed his bag and held out what looked like a granola bar. Glenn raised an eyebrow even as his stomach growled. Hunter sighed deeply and opened the wrapper, took a third of the b
ar, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and then held it out to Glenn again. Realizing there was nothing weird about the bar, Glenn took it and ate in small bites, chewing thoroughly.

  “I don’t know what deer shifters eat,” Hunter said. “And I only have that and some jerky. I hunted for the rest of my food.”

  “What sort of jerky?” Glenn asked, trying to sound like he couldn’t care less, but he was curious.

  Hunter winced. “Deer.”

  Glenn shuddered and finished the granola bar. Hunter offered his canteen. Glenn hesitated but he was craving water. He took it and sipped despite his burning need before handing it back.

  “Do you eat meat?” Hunter asked.

  Glenn met Hunter’s gaze, trying to find something to hate about the guy. He wanted to find something that would lend evidence to his cruel nature, for surely if he was a knight, he had to be cruel.

  “You still don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

  Glenn raised his brow, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. “H—honestly? No.” Glenn huffed a breath. “But considering my options, I don’t have much choice in the matter.”

  Hunter looked away. Glenn looked back at the fire.

  “You think I’m trying to trick you,” Hunter said softly. “Well, I can’t blame you. What the Knights do to shifters….”

  Hunter shuddered and closed his eyes. Glenn narrowed his own and wondered if this was an act. But his gut, his instinct, told him Hunter’s emotions and words were genuine. Glenn thought of Hunter’s earlier words—about how knights and shifters thought of each other as monsters. Glenn knew the Knights were deluded, but what if there were some knights who didn’t believe in the cause? A knight who didn’t want to kill shifters. Fascinating concept.

  His deer perked up with interest.

  “I could never watch,” Hunter said, his voice even softer. Glenn had to lean forward to understand him. Hunter’s eyes were still closed and he looked in pain.

  “They taught me, trained me. Made me watch—experiments. But I could never understand. The pain those shifters felt. They screamed….”

  He fell silent, his face still turned away. Glenn, who had started to warm up, now felt cold again. But this cold came from inside. His stomach knotted, and he thought of the stories his father had told him about Glenn’s uncle. His father’s brother, who had been taken by the Knights, had never been seen again. His deer gave a mournful cry, the faint sound echoing in his mind.

  As Glenn opened his mouth, Hunter seized. His eyes flew open, blank and frozen while his entire body turned into a statue. Alarmed, Glenn nearly reached out a hand to touch him, but he pulled back, instead gripping the blanket tightly.

  It didn’t last long. Hunter’s eyes snapped back into focus, and he shuddered out a breath. He rubbed a hand over his head and focused on the ground, a deep frown on his face. There was silence between them for several minutes before Hunter finally lifted his head and met Glenn’s gaze.

  “I don’t know what to do to prove myself to you,” Hunter said softly. “Yes, I am a knight. But I was adopted into my family. I was thirteen. I was taught things, some I didn’t agree with. Some I still don’t agree with.”

  “You were adopted?” Glenn asked, horrified. “By the Knights?”

  Hunter nodded slowly. “My mother is a knight. I love them, Glenn, but I do not agree with everything they do or say. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  For the first time, Glenn realized he might start to believe him. His deer, a soft mild-mannered creature, was filled with pity and horror.

  “Why are you here, Hunter?” It was the first time he used the man’s name, and Glenn noticed the easing of Hunter’s shoulders and the loosening of his tight face.

  “It is my rite of passage,” Hunter said. “I have to… kill a shifter.”

  Glenn closed his eyes in pain and bowed his head, rubbing his brow. He shook his head and began to shiver for an entirely new reason.

  “But you didn’t,” he whispered. “You didn’t kill me.”

  “And I won’t,” Hunter said.

  Glenn looked at Hunter again. “Why not? Your family demands it of you. Why not do it? Why do you care about me above them?”

  “I don’t know,” Hunter whispered and leaned back to sit on his butt. He sat cross-legged and laid his face in his hands. When he spoke, it was slightly muffled. “I don’t know why I can’t just think like my family. God knows it would make my life easier. But I just fucking can’t.”

  Glenn heard the distress, the way Hunter’s voice cracked on his last word, and knew it was genuine. This man was sincerely conflicted, and Glenn found himself wanting to help him. But he didn’t know how. The rite of passage made sense, and Hunter seemed young enough to warrant it. And if that was the case, then a trick to keep Glenn alive would serve no purpose. Hunter was supposed to kill a shifter and that was it.

  “I believe you,” Glenn blurted, stunned that he actually did. “Hunter, I—I think I believe you.”

  Hunter nodded but didn’t lift his head.

  More silence. Then, “A few minutes ago your eyes went blank,” Glenn said. “Why? Did you see into the future?”

  Glenn didn’t doubt Hunter’s gift. He knew enough about the Knights to know that they only took the most gifted children as recruits. Hunter nodded again, finally lifting his head.

  “Yes,” Hunter said. “You were telling me about your uncle. I’m so sorry.”

  Glenn sucked in a breath in shock. “How did you—?”

  “You were telling me,” Hunter said. “And this means I just changed the future. Instead of allowing you to tell me, I’m telling you. I want us to understand each other.”

  Glenn rubbed his cold hand over his lips, and he glanced around at their surroundings without seeing anything. His deer bleated, overwhelmed. Join the club.

  “You told me,” Hunter said, “that your uncle Ash was kidnapped when he was ten and your father was twelve. They were in a different part of Ohio and momentarily separated from their parents. Your father looked away for a moment to go into a shop, and when he came back out, his brother was gone.”

  Glenn swallowed hard, remembering his father’s face when he related the story to him and his brother and sisters.

  “Your father saw a sleek van drive away, and he could smell his brother in there. He ran but the van was already gone. He and his parents searched but—your uncle was never found.”

  Glenn’s eyes burned at the corners but he didn’t let his tears fall. He was always emotional when he heard that story, when he thought about how it might happen to him. He had a younger brother, named after their lost uncle, and if anything happened to him… or his sisters Rowan or Shyre… or anyone in his herd…. They were his life.

  Hunter pushed to his feet, and Glenn sensed more than distress now. He sensed desperation. Hunter whirled around after he’d taken a few steps away from Glenn, and his face tightened.

  “Are you the monsters they tell me you are or—are they just misinformed?” Hunter asked, demanding. “Are they just so bent on revenge for past grievances that they lost their way, or are they justified in their hate? I need to know!”

  If Glenn’s legs would have held him, he would have stood. He just wasn’t strong enough yet.

  “I don’t know what to tell you, Hunter,” Glenn said calmly, despite his rapidly beating heart. “If I tell you the truth, who’s to say you will believe me?”

  Hunter closed his eyes tightly and turned away.

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Hunter murmured so softly that Glenn barely heard him.

  “The monsters are your family,” Glenn said bluntly a few minutes later. “They stole a ten-year-old child, who hadn’t even reached shifting age, and did God-knows-what to him. They stole him from his family and probably dissected him.”

  “No,” Hunter whispered tensely. He gripped his head, and Glenn watched him, anticipating an attack. “Don’t call them that, Glenn. Th
ey love me. They adopted me when no one else would. They didn’t fear my ability—”

  “They’re monsters,” Glenn said firmly. “They manipulated you and sought to control you. You’re just a tool to them.”

  “Stop calling them monsters!” Hunter whirled around once more, stomping toward Glenn. “They are misinformed, that’s all! My mother loves me—”

  “Your mother sought to control you,” Glenn said, even as his body flushed cold and hot with panic. “Use your brain, Hunter! You’re just a tool! She doesn’t give a shit about you.”

  Hunter snarled and grabbed the front of the jacket around Glenn and lifted him into the air. Glenn gasped at his strength and gripped Hunter’s wrists. The blanket fluttered to the ground and he struggled, the chill scraping over his skin once more.

  “You’re wrong!”

  “I’m not!” Glenn roared right back, his teeth beginning to chatter. “I know the Knights better than you do! They’ve destroyed families, killed loved ones, and all without a shred of remorse. They are the cancer that eats at the world, and I wish I could fucking kill them all!”

  Rage at the Knights churned through Glenn’s body. Now his skin rippled and his eyes glowed because he and his deer wanted to fight. He remembered his father’s grief; he remembered hearing about entire packs or herds taken by the Knights. He remembered a young agent from the Agency coming to his father’s home and telling him about what the Knights did to shifters. He’d listened at the door with his brother and sisters, and they had all been sickened. His imagination whirled once more as it had then, and he wanted to lash out. He wanted to skewer and gore with his horns. He wanted to trample the knights under his hooves. He forgot he’d actually started to like Hunter, to believe that he was confused. All Glenn remembered was what that damned organization did to his brethren, his kind. They needed to be stopped.

  Hunter dropped him and Glenn crumpled to the ground.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hunter said, his voice shaking, his eyes wide. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are all monsters. Maybe you deserve what you get.”