The Hunters Series

by Shiloh Walker

  “He’ll probably die,” Kelsey said baldly, shrugging. “She’s placed—well, think of it as a drain that only she can plug. She’s torn something open inside him that will drain his life-force away. She opened it with her blood. Only her blood can close it.”

  * * * * *

  Sarel stared out into the night at the brightly lit house, a fierce joy surging through her. It wouldn’t be long now.

  As her blood had caused the wound that would eventually kill the vampire, her blood was linked to him. She could feel his suffering, feel his agony. But there was something missing. Sarel wanted him to curse and rage and fight his coming death.

  But Elijah Crawford had accepted it.

  Something was keeping him alive longer than she had expected.

  The blood-spell should have killed him that day, by noon at the latest, but he still lay, lingering through the beautiful sunrise, and the gloriously bright morning when he received a sudden blast of energy. No damn reason, none, for him to have survived more than a few scant hours. She was glad she had conjured the blood-spell instead of just poisoning the arrow. If it had just been the poison, what—or whoever—had just fed the creature would have allowed him to throw off the poison.

  Something odd was going on inside those walls.

  Even though he was dying, that surge of power made her wonder. She dropped from the tree and stood, her long wiry body arching and tensing, forcing stiff muscles to relax as she paced back and forth, nervous as a cat, just as curious, just as mad, her eyes narrowed, hands fisted as she pondered her options.

  Not that there were many.

  Sarel was going to the house.

  She didn’t want to use big magic and warn whoever was inside the house, which meant she had to move closer.

  An odd tingle slithered down her spine as she crossed the tree line. In her hurry to check out the house, she shoved it aside. The house…she could see the people inside, and distantly hear them. But she couldn’t see them, with the sight that made her witch. If she trusted just the witch-sight, she would have said the house was void of life. But her eyes and ears told her otherwise.

  People were there.

  Sarel should have been able to reach out with her magic and coax the elements into aiding her. The wind would have carried their voices and the animals would have whispered their fears.

  She should have been able to look through the windows and see not just the people, but what lay inside them. Evil people were always a swirling mass of gray and sickly putrid yellow. Warriors and soldiers were a strong, solid blue. She saw it almost every time she had evaded a cop after she had run away from home. The warriors, while good men, wouldn’t hesitate to detain a young teenager wandering the streets. Teachers were white, not just the school teachers, but anybody who taught, like mothers and nurses.

  Children were the pale sweet green of spring, innocent and young and easily broken.

  Other witches, like Sarel, tended to glow a soft, mellow gold. At least, she had once gleamed golden.

  Sarel knew her aura was no longer gold.

  Red was now the color of her aura.

  Red for rage, red for vengeance, red for anger.

  And black for death. Her aura colored everything she looked at—or maybe discolored. Explaining why the few times she caught a glimpse of Elijah Crawford, murderer, child killer, he gleamed that strong, bold blue to her witch’s sight. Her hatred had blinded her, fooled her, made her see things that weren’t there, or believe things that weren’t real. So, of course, she stopped using that sight around him. When she looked through the windows she should have seen a morass of colors, mostly likely green and sickly grays and blacks.

  But she saw nothing.

  It didn’t dawn on her until too late that one of those people was like her, only stronger. And that witch was blocking her.

  From the window she saw a woman, long black hair in tight spiral curls. Had to be a perm. Big blue eyes. Contacts, definitely. A bandaged wrist. Some slut feeding her vampire lover. That one was the witch, Sarel figured, narrowing her eyes and trying to figure out a way past her.

  Another woman. Woman, hell. A freaking teenager with two red braids and a concerned look on her young face. Another child. Like Lori had been. Others moved throughout the room, bringing water and food to the women. One tapped his wrist and gestured to the dying vampire, obviously offering to feed him.

  Sarel smiled. “Feed him all you want. Only one thing will break the curse. And he can’t have it.”

  “Wanna bet?”

  Chapter Three

  Kelsey’s back stiffened. “She’s coming,” she whispered, her eyes starting to glow with that eerie red-brown fire. In an odd, slow motion, much like a bird of prey turning to stare at a snake, she said to Declan, “Bring her here.”

  “She’s a witch,” Tori said softly. “She can—”

  “No. I’m stronger,” Kelsey said with certainty. “I can hold her. She may, and probably will, fight physically. But no magic, I promise.”

  As Declan left, his mouth curved in a violent smile, Tori said, “If he is hurt, so are you.”

  Kelsey laughed, her face lightening. “He won’t be. I’m not much of a warrior, but I’m a hell of a witch. I’ve got more ages of practice behind me. And I know my magic.”

  “Ages?” The lingering doubt in Tori’s eyes and voice was clear for all to see and hear and Kelsey laughed.

  Winking at Tori, the witch said, “Vamps don’t have the strong hold on the fountain of youth, Tori.”

  * * * * *

  “Wanna bet?”

  Sarel whirled and tried to grab her gun, but the harshly whispered words were the only warning she had before something sprung out of the shadows and took her to the ground. Landing on something both hard and soft as she went down, she was rolled to her belly and pinned, two large furred hands gripping her wrists. Feeling the power ripple through the air and roll like water over her skin, the furred hands became smooth and human and male.

  Gathering her focus, Sarel struck out, intending to knock the man flat on his ass, render him unconscious and do what she came for.

  Instead the invisible lance of pure power was flung back at her and she writhed, shrieking in agony, certain she was going to die.

  Oh, baby, I couldn’t protect you. Couldn’t avenge you either, she thought before she gave in to the pain.

  Declan jerked the young woman up and flung her unconscious form over his shoulder. The little witch came through, he thought with satisfaction. He had felt something like a thunderstorm ready to hit with violent force, and then it died.

  No.

  Not died.

  It had been redirected. Back into the woman who had sent it.

  This woman’s magic was rough, much rougher than anything he’d ever he had ever seen. Powerful, though, and quite deadly, like the power of a tornado. Or maybe like the wild forest fires that sprang up out west and destroyed homes, trees, land, lives.

  Generally witches had a power that was more like a laser—refined, true, powerful, and under control.

  Declan strode naked into the house with the little bitch’s backside in the air. He stalked up the stairs and carried her into Eli’s room, where his best friend lay dying. With a snarl, he threw her unconscious body down onto the floor and lifted his glowing eyes to stare at Kelsey.

  “Now. What.” He had to force the words out, his throat was so constricted with rage and anger and he knew his control was near shot. Declan had never fed on human flesh before, but this night it had been tempting. He had wanted, desperately, to rip her throat out and feed for what she had done. Not even in the hunt had he fed on a human before. It was a line he feared crossing. When the hunger ran too high he hunted the forest for wild game and satisfied his hunger that way. Or he would shift to his half wolf form and fuck Tori until she pleaded for mercy—another way to sate the animal.

  Right now, he wanted so badly to feed that his jaws ached with it. Tori stroked his shoulders with so
ft, soothing hands, pressing a kiss there before wrapping her arms around his waist.

  Kelsey moved closer and knelt beside the limp body, staring at the sun kissed flesh of the red-headed woman. Her skin was an odd mellow gold, almost like that of a mixed race child. And her coppery-red hair was escaping from its restraining braid to curl around her face.

  To Kelsey, there was something unnervingly familiar about her. A familiar look about her, like she had seen her before, maybe regularly.

  To Declan, she looked hardly more than a child, as he stared down at her, bemused.

  The witch had seemed much older before he had taken her down and she had unwittingly knocked herself silly with her own magic. Now, she barely looked to be in her twenties.

  Kelsey continued to crouch by the woman’s head, one hand held out, hovering merely centimeters from her still body. A gasp left her throat and her body spasmed once. Declan moved closer, ready to knock her aside and defend her, but Kelsey’s eyes opened, once more glowing. “She’s no threat to me now,” she said quietly. “Let me work.”

  Sliding deeper into the woman’s sub-consciousness Kelsey absorbed the information she needed simply by sifting through the woman’s memories.

  Her name was Sarel. Just Sarel. No last name that Kelsey could find.

  There had been a young child, four, maybe five. Beaten and battered. The child slowly shifted to a young woman, just a teenager when she had fled a broken down ramshackle house, leaving behind a woman and a crying baby. She had always meant to go back and rescue the child. Had visited, late at night, early in the morning before the father woke.

  Gave the woman what money or stolen goods she could, urged her to come away with her.

  When she had gone back the final time, maybe five years ago, the woman was dead. The man was dead. A house torn apart, trashed and smeared with blood and gore, and the scent that Kelsey knew as vampire, a scent that Sarel had caught, but not known.

  The baby, then a young girl, was gone.

  Today would have been her fourteenth birthday.

  The little girl’s name had been Lori. Lori…a sweet, red-headed little girl, wide eyed and innocent. Kelsey shook her head. Such a child had alighted on the Council’s doorstep just a few years ago, wrapped in Eli’s arms. The vampire had been reeking of blood and violence, his eyes full anguish and pain as he turned the child over to Kelsey, assuring her that the little one’s memory of the night was gone.

  Kelsey had wished she could do the same for Eli but he had left in silence before she could even offer a shoulder.

  A gifted child, another witch, one who would be a Healer.

  The child had often asked of her sister…Sarel.

  Sarel, the angry powerful young witch who was killing Eli.

  A tangled path had led her to Eli’s door.

  Sarel had arrived only hours after her father had killed her mother, before he had turned on his own child. The child hadn’t been killed though. Her father had died viciously, his throat ripped wide open, his blood painting the floor red instead of feeding Eli. The bastard’s body had been pummeled and beaten and broken, a more brutal, and deadly version of what he had often done to his wife and kids.

  It hadn’t been one of Eli’s cleaner kills.

  Standing enraged before the lifeless woman who had let her children be beaten, his emotions, his helplessness apparent as he held the tiny, underfed nine year old in his arms while she sobbed and cried.

  Eli had resorted to mind control to soothe the child, erasing her memories of that night and taking her away.

  Sarel had strong, untrained psychic skills, not just the witchcraft. The hunter had left too much of himself, let himself feel too much rage. He hadn’t just attacked and killed—Eli had fought, wanting to feel bones break under his hands, wanting to feel skin tear and blood flow. And he had let his own blood be spilled as he allowed the man to fight—as he let the perverted bastard think he would win before he killed him.

  Sarel had locked on the scent of his blood, his rage, convincing herself she was tracking a killer. That was how Sarel had found him. Tracking the path of emotions, the line of blood and rage, going without any knowledge of his looks or his name, for more than four years, she had tracked him.

  Between the blood and the emotion, she was led across the country to Eli. It had taken years, but she had followed the trail, not seeing it for what it was, and had landed here.

  Every unexplained death, every near bloodless corpse pulled her closer. She hadn’t heard, or if she had—she had ignored—the stories of abuse and neglect and crime that surrounded the supposed victims.

  Having arrived here nearly a year ago she had hidden behind the guise of glamour while she watched Eli, while she planned, while she researched.

  While she grieved.

  Sarel thought Eli had killed her baby sister, the baby sister who was alive and well at Excelsior, learning the ways of Healing, being a happy child, being a witch, being free.

  “Oh, sweetheart, aren’t you in for a rude awakening,” Kelsey murmured. Under her breath, she murmured the words to a spell of entrapment, one to hold the other witch helpless, both magically and physically, until Kelsey or Kelsey’s death, released it. Not that what she was going do was going to kill her, but it was definitely going to hurt.

  Lifting her head, she looked at her audience of two. At some point, one of them had sent the others from the room, so there was nobody but Declan and Tori, the unconscious witch, and the dying vampire. Baldly, Kelsey said, “Eli’s running out of time. He’ll die unless she feeds him, and does it willingly, within in the next few hours. I don’t think we have the time to talk some sense into her.”

  Declan had been standing behind Tori, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her against his naked body, his chin resting atop her black curls.

  At Kelsey’s words, he spun away and started to pace the confines of the room, his hands flexing and relaxing. From time to time, the bones in his body would start to shift and power would shudder through the room as he battled the wolf that raged to be free.

  Tori caught him as he passed by her, stroking her hands soothingly down his arms before turning back to Kelsey. “So what do we do?” she asked calmly.

  “We can’t do anything, but I can. However, I won’t be worth much afterward. I’ve put a spell on her, so she can’t run, and she can’t fight in any way. That way, in case this doesn’t work, she can’t turn on you while I’m out.”

  “Out doing what?” Declan asked.

  “Passed out. Out cold. Unconscious,” Kelsey said, a small smile tugging at her mouth. “This is definitely not going to be one of the smartest things I’ve ever done.”

  With that she turned and moved to Eli’s side.

  “I need her on the bed,” Kelsey said as she crawled across the bed to kneel in the middle by Eli’s prone form. She could feel him, still there, but growing weaker. The pain that was ripping through him was enough to make her nauseated, but she had to clamp down and shield against what he was suffering now.

  It was the suffering from his past she needed, his emotions, his need for justice, his loneliness. Declan tossed Sarel down carelessly before turning back to his stalking. “If I fail, I know you will kill her,” Kelsey said softly. “But she didn’t do this because she is evil. She isn’t. She’s misled. But she’s also dangerous. Kill her, but do it fast, and do it clean. And—politely, if you can. She’s suffered enough.”

  “Suffered?” Declan rasped, his voice a painfully deep growl, his eyes glowing neon green and swirling with his anger. “Suffered?”

  “Yes. She’s suffered. As one member of the Council to another, I charge you with this. Do not toy with her. Do not be cruel. She may escape if you do. And you know we can’t risk that. But I know that she deserves better.”

  Declan’s words were cut off by Tori. Her blue eyes were glittering and gleaming with the tears she still held back but she promised in a rough, husky voice, “If you fail, I will make certai
n she dies quickly and cleanly, Kelsey. I promise.”

  Declan made a rude sound behind her and started to mutter under his breath as he resumed his pacing.

  Kelsey idly wondered if there would be furrows in the wood from his pacing by the time this was over.

  Turning she placed one hand on Eli’s chest, dropped her shields and called the magic. Placing the other hand on Sarel’s chest, her head fell back and the tips of her long braids brushed the linens.

  Magic pulsed hot and thick through her veins as she let the power fill her, heat swirling and dancing through the air around her until it felt too thick to breathe. Light built and built and built and then exploded in a blinding flash.

  Tori flung an arm over her eyes and cried out in shock as the light exploded like a bomb without smoke or fire. Through watery, hazy eyes she searched the room.

  Kelsey wasn’t there.

  “Where’d she go?” Declan asked. “I can’t see her.” Then he lifted his head, and flared his nostrils, dragging air in. “But I can still smell her. It’s like she’s…inside them.”

  Sarel felt the alien presence battering at her sense of self but she was too fucking weak to fight it. It spilled in, flooded her, filled and then drained out, taking her anger and her guilt with it, leaving her hollow.

  A soft, gentle voice said, “He isn’t what you think or who you think. You saw him with the witch sight, saw the warrior. That is who he is.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The woman laughed. Her voice stroked over Sarel, soothing a thousand pains, healing small hurts as she said, “He’s a good man. Didn’t your father deserve to die?”

  “My sister didn’t.”

  “No. The child didn’t deserve to die. And she’s not dead. But you won’t believe that. So I’m going to show you.”

  The hollowness inside Sarel was suddenly flooded. That night—it was like she was there again. The blond, achingly beautiful vampire had kicked open the door only seconds after Sarel’s father had pumped her mother full of lead, while he stared at sweet little Lori with hot, hungry eyes. Lori was crying and screaming and covered in her mother’s blood.