The Hunters Series

by Shiloh Walker

So they’d waited.

  This time, they’d taken a more subtle approach.

  A simple fight.

  Hunters got into them all the time, after all.

  And this one was even more prone to them.

  Hot-headed, rash, and easily provoked, it hadn’t taken much to lure him to violence.

  The knife had steeped in the curse for a long time. They had taken pains to be subtle with it, a necessity. There wasn’t any warrior witches around now, but there was still a witch. She was young. Strong enough, but young.

  If the spell was subtle and didn’t go to work right away, she wasn’t likely to sense it until it was too late.

  Once the spell had its hooks in the young wolf, he’d be theirs.

  He already had enough darkness in him. All it would take was be tripping the right switch, they figured.

  Jonathan couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, and couldn’t speak.

  Opening his eyes, he struggled to sit up, feeling something alien inside his mind.

  Something foul, evil.

  Flipping onto his side, lungs aching, he reached for the knife at his bedside table. The instinct was to attack. He didn’t know what he wanted to attack, where the fight was, but something was wrong...

  Then he scented magick. Something else inside him besides that darkness. It smelled of green things and spring time and woman. Lori—

  He felt a rush into his mind, something clean and pure. Her power flooded his mind and the weight left his chest. Sucking air into his lungs, he opened his eyes and saw the ceiling above his bed.

  Don’t move, Jonnie. They aren’t gone yet, Lori whispered into his mind.

  The insidious creeping evil lingered inside him as Lori continued to push onward inside, forcing the blackness out, her light, easy power overtaking everything inside him until he could breathe, could move without feeling the pain, the suffocating evil that was trying to control and become him—be him.

  Trying to claim the wolf. The beast that had become part of him when he’d become were.

  Let them try, little brother, the wolf offered, laughing. The wolf inside him gaped his mouth in a lupine grin, but Jonathan was enraged.

  Not in this life.

  He changed. The wild, edgy, raw power that was werewolf exploded inside him, untamed and rampant, so close to the full moon. Long brown hair thickened, changing to a pelt as his head fell back, a muzzle forming, teeth lengthening and exploding from his gums, blood pooling inside his mouth as they tore through. His muscles flexed as fur flowed and rippled along his skin, bones breaking and reforming. Ebony claws shot out from his nails, hooked and deadly, flashing in the light. He dropped to his knees, a ragged growl rolling from his throat as the rain of fur raced down his spine, his clothes falling in tatters to the floor.

  The lean, muscled wall of his chest rippled like water as those muscles started to shift and change, becoming obscured by the flow of fur. A deep, dark brown fur flowed across the length of his body as he shuddered and slammed his hands against the floor, his legs popping and shifting as the change continued. The fur on his thighs was thicker, but shorter and silkier, continuing down his legs until it ended in slightly longer tufts around his ankles, and very short stubbly fur on the top of his feet.

  Changing was painful, but the adrenaline dulled the worst of it and when he rose to his feet, he was ready to fight. Ready to tear into whatever had tried to attack him.

  Thicker, more heavily rounded muscles rippled as he looked around. Nearly a head taller now, at six feet eight, he searched the room, his eyes glowing gold.

  The evil presence in his mind faltered as the wild power of werewolf permeated the room and forced her suffocating presence back.”What do you want?” he growled.

  “You…” He felt a seductive stroke caress him, rippling through his body, around it, over it.

  Jonathan snarled and jerked back, away from the power, and the evil beauty it offered.”Too fucking bad. You can’t have me,” he rasped, forcing the words out. Speaking the words felt alien and awkward on his tongue.

  “Darling, I already have you.”

  Jonathan would rather not admit that he was a bit afraid that she wasn’t lying, or bluffing.”Yeah? Then where in the hell are you?”

  The drifting music of a woman’s laughter came floating to him.”I’ll be around, my wolf.”

  The wildness inside him exploded and the wolf inside him took control. He threw his head back, baying, howling, the sound rising and falling. A dozen weres answered him throughout the enclave and Jonathan snarled savagely, triumphantly, as he felt the evil falter inside him.

  Jonathan banished the creeping, wild power, and the wolf receded as it recognized that Jonathan was once again himself. As the fur melted away inside his skin and the power faded away, from his human form Jonathan looked up, smiled and said quietly, “Yeah? Well, I’ll be waiting.

  As he spoke, he rose to his feet, easily, in a smooth lazy motion, his naked, golden body gleaming in the dim light.

  “Insolent dog,” she hissed into his mind. Something slammed into him—her power, dark and cold. Like she was trying to rip him apart. Rip him apart from the inside out, using nothing but her magic and it hurt.

  Bellowing, his hands clutching at his head, he went back down, this time to his knees, writhing in agony as she rummaged through his soul like a box of clothes. He felt her picking up bits and pieces and tossing them aside as each one proved to be empty of what she sought.

  “Change, you fucking dog.”

  Gritting his teeth, Jonathan bared a mean semblance of a smile at her and said, “Go fuck yourself,” before his eyes rolled up and his back arched as a spasm of agony raced through him.

  “Change, change, change!”

  Lori felt the angry flow of power in the small cottage from outside in the yard. She leaped the fence and narrowed her eyes at the door. It opened accordingly and she darted inside. She really should learn to knock, maybe tomorrow…

  That foul, evil presence permeated the air, almost choking her as she raced down the hall on bare feet. Staring through the dim light, she studied the shadow that was Jonathan and waited as darkness gathered around him.

  The shadows were of people who weren’t truly there, though their presence was real enough. Lori could hear their whispers to him, faintly, very faintly. Turn you fucking dog. Change now!

  Change, change, change!

  That high-pitched, miserable ear-piercing shriek—Lori shook her head and threw off the echoes of the voice she couldn’t really hear.

  “He doesn’t belong to you,” she said firmly, certainly. “He made his vows, his allegiances long ago. And none were made to you.”

  Unholy shrieks filled the air and eerie eyes pivoted and locked on her as she pushed through the heavy presence that filled the room, striding confidently to his side. Kneeling beside him, she placed one hand on his shoulder.

  “Come on, Jonnie...listen to me,” she whispered, using her own magick to push the darker threat away.

  It tried to cling to them both, but Lori knew dark magick. She wasn’t a warrior. She didn’t have to be a warrior, though, to burn through the oily taint in the air. Flooding the cottage with her own power, she burned through the awful magick until it was all but gone.

  Only seconds after she’d started, color returned to Jonathan’s face and he surged from the floor. Evil, dirty power lashed through the room and struck at him as he rose. He swayed, but remained upright.

  He is tainted. We can take what is tainted.

  Jonathan’s mouth twisted in a pained smile. “Unworthy, perhaps. But not tainted.” His voice was twisted and hoarse with pain, and it tore at her heart to hear it.

  “You deny yourself. Deny what’s inside you. Come join us, brother…”

  With narrowed eyes, Lori fought the terror that threatened to swell inside her. They weren’t just witches. They were recruiting for the enemies of the Council. Long had the Council spoken of an unknown enemy that assassinate
d and murdered, poisoning the minds of young wolf packs and turning them against humanity. The Hunters would then have to wipe out entire packs because they had begun hunting humans. Enemies who sought out young witches on the streets and groomed them to suit their own purposes.

  “I’m not your brother, bitch.”

  Bitch—

  Lori started. The voices she heard were like a chorus, almost sexless. Didn’t seem that way to Jonathan.

  “You question your worth to the pussy vampire you serve. If you joined me, you would never doubt that worth—”

  “I’d be worth kicking aside when you were done having me fetch whatever bone you threw my way,” Jonathan snarled, baring his teeth. “Get the fuck out.”

  He brought his wrist to his mouth and tore open a vein with sharp teeth, gathering blood on his fingers as he strode over to the door.

  Painting a simple X over the door, he said in a flat voice, “Be gone, I say. Return no more. From my house, my blood bars your return ever more.”

  With a violent shriek, they cursed him as the simple chant of the home’s owner cast them out.

  Long brown hair fell over his shoulders as he lowered his head, watching the skin already beginning to knit as he applied pressure to the gash on his wrist.

  Lori stared at him, wide-eyed. Now that the moment had passed, she was excruciatingly aware of a few things. He was naked. And damn, he was hot. The golden flesh gleamed richly over firm, muscled flesh, the columns of his thighs hard and sculpted. Her heart started to pound as heat pooled in her belly.

  Seizing on the easiest distraction she could think of, she focused on the door. It was basic warding. If he’d been human, it wouldn’t have worked, but since he was a werewolf, he had enough elemental power in him, it would carry weight.

  Between his blood, the magicks cast around Eli’s home by Lori and Sarel, and Jonathan’s own power, it was enough to get rid of them...for now. It might not last, but it gave them a temporary respite.

  But how had he known about it?

  “How did you know about that?”

  Over his shoulder, he slid her an amused look. “I’ve been living around witches for several years now. I’m gonna learn a few things, sweetheart.” He turned away and headed down the hall.

  And she watched, enjoying the view every second of the way.

  Lori sighed in disappointment when she could no longer see those wide muscled shoulders, those narrow hips and that lean, naked body. She licked her lips and wiped her mouth, just in case she was drooling.

  When Jonathan returned a few minutes later, she was sitting down, her hands folded around a steaming cup of tea as she stared into nothingness. “Why do they think you are tainted? Whoever they are, they seem to think this gives them a hold on you.” Lifting her eyes to him as he lowered himself into a chair, she studied his rather pale, grim face as he took the mug she had prepared for him.

  “I’m not gonna like what’s in there, am I?”

  A small, amused smile curved her mouth. Damn his talented nose. “No. The knife that stabbed you was cursed. Rosemary, sage, graveyard dirt. I’ll have to rub some herbs—acacia and Angelica root and such—into your wound, but first you need to drink that. It has bergamot and Blessed thistle in it. And a whole lot of prayers.”

  “Did you pray to your Goddess about me? I’m touched,” Jonathan said, his mouth quirking up in a smile.

  A streak of hurt lanced through her and she lowered her head to keep him from seeing it in her eyes. He knew enough about witches to pick up some basic protection. But he didn’t know that she didn’t believe in any Goddess.

  “I don’t worship a Goddess, Jonathan. I never have,” she said softly, scooping a necklace out of her shirt, displaying the golden cross she wore around her neck. “I believe in the same God you do, and go to church on the same day, and worship the same way the average American does. I go to the church across the street from where you and Erica ago, as a matter of fact. You’re much more devout than I am.”

  She dropped the cross back inside her shirt and nodded to the glass. “Drink your tea. The reason they work is because I believe they will, and also because they fight the toxins the other herbs put inside your body to make you susceptible to their touch. That is fifty percent of faith, and science.”

  “What is the other fifty?” he asked as he reluctantly lifted the mug. He took the first sip and Lori smiled, taking some small nasty pleasure as he gagged at the taste.

  “Magick. God giving me the gift, and me using it wisely. And magick is my gift, plain and simple, like you have yours, Sarel has hers, and Declan and Tori each have theirs.”

  Jonathan arched a brow at her as he downed the rest of the contents in the mug. Suppressing a shudder, he set it aside and walked over to the fridge, fishing out a jug of juice and washing the taste of Lori’s brew from his mouth. Lori studied him from under the fringe of her lashes, the lines of muscle and sinew, the lovely gold of his skin, the way his belly clenched and moved as he moved. Something hot and molten shifted inside her and she took a slow, deep breath through her nose, forcing herself to relax.

  I can’t do this, not here, not around him. He’ll know.

  Grabbing two glasses in one hand, he carried the juice to the table. “Okay. I noticed that you left Eli out.” As he lowered himself back into the seat, she studied the angry, red gash in his side. It was a wound that would never fully heal.

  With a forceful shake of her head, she met his eyes and said, “Did I leave Eli, my beloved brother-in-law, out? How terrible of me.”

  Eli wasn’t exactly the kind of soul you could overlook. But up until a few years ago, he would never have considered himself a lucky or gifted man. Now, as he rose from a long, restful slumber and stretched his body, the thoughts that drifted through his mind were those of a man contented, no, happy with his life.

  His gift lay behind him, already sleeping. The watery rays of sunlight that slid through the drapes he threw open coming in to paint her body with an array of colors. Her name was Sarel, she was a witch, with the heart of a warrior and the only soul on the planet that would ever be a match to his.

  Eli felt the spilling of blood as he walked away from the bed they shared, with the stir of power, the scent of were and the warmth of witch all building inside him.

  Without deepening the connection, he knew what was going on. Lori. Jonathan. Magic. A fucking mess.

  Jonathan was wounded, and vulnerable. And being the stubborn bastard he was, he hadn’t called for help, Eli brooded.

  Lori was handling it, which was what Lori did.

  It wasn’t enough.

  With a light touch, Eli reached out down his line and found Sheila and Rafe. Both of them were out—Sheila out shopping, having a couple of drinks, and just having fun in Charleston, as the young vamp loved.

  Rafe was out doing what he did best, brooding and hunting. With a silent summons, he ordered them both back and then focused his attention on Jonathan and Lori, trying to get a deeper understanding of what had happened, without any luck.

  And then the connection solidified and he found himself wrapped in a warm grasp, the bonds of magick guiding him into Lori’s mind. His psychic abilities were adequate, but Lori, like most witches, had a natural resistance and he couldn’t go where she didn’t want him going. Besides, it was impolite.

  “If you truly want to know what is going on, did it occur to you to ask?”

  “Lori, you grow more impudent every day, sweet, did you know that?” He settled more completely into her mind, watching through her eyes as she worked.

  “What is going on?” Sarel’s voice, hot and angry, echoed behind him.

  His mind was in one place. His body was in another.

  And now Sarel was forcing herself into that link in the way only she could—his mate, and a witch.

  Lori sighed. “Sarel. My brain can only handle so much. Would you mind?”

  “Fuck.”

  The connection wavered and he split his
attention, glancing at his wife as she slid out of bed and strode to the mirror hanging over the carved bureau.

  Red hair flowed down her naked back, and started to blow back from her face as the window first glowed gold under her touch and then went opaque, reflecting first her face, then her sister’s profile as she knelt over Jonathan’s body.

  “Well,” Eli said, easing away from his connection to Lori’s mind. “That’s better.”

  Moving to stand by Sarel, he eyed Jonathan. The werewolf was a pale wreck, lying on the couch. And although Eli knew he must be hurting, no sign of it showed. His face was impassive and he watched Lori from under his lashes.

  The gash on his side was long and ugly, puckered, an angry, bright red, and at one end, the vicious mark of a scythe was forming.

  “Lori, stop, you need to make sure you’ve—”

  “Sarel, aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?” Lori asked as she continued to rub more Angelica root into the open wound on Jonathan’s side, from the bottom up.

  “If you haven’t made him drink one of those nasty potions first, you’re wasting your time,” Sarel said, ignoring her.

  Eli sighed, reaching up and rubbing his forehead as Lori continued to work. The younger witch never slowed, nor did she let Jonathan feel any of the pain she was inflicting on his body, Eli noticed. He could feel it, some of it, a distant echo, through the link he had to both of them, but the were felt none of it as he lay watching Lori with dark, dangerous eyes. The pain was nauseating, just that echo that Eli could feel. What Lori was feeling must be unreal.

  “You cannot fight it forever, pup. You know that.” Eli’s words were soft, spoken directly into Jonathan’s mind, only for him to hear.

  Jonathan turned his head eastward, following the distant sound of Eli’s voice as he softly said, “I’ll fight it for as long as I have to.”

  “Hush, Jonathan,” Lori murmured, and with a thought, she urged him into a healing trance. Eli winced as he recognized the herbs she reached for with her bloody hand, acacia, blessed thistle, and good old fashioned earth from his home, the cottage where he had lived. Fire glowed hotly in her hand as she held the earth in one and used the other to rub the herbs into it while she whispered under her breath.