The Hunters Series

by Shiloh Walker

He was the one to blame.

  If he hadn’t been so difficult lately, she wouldn’t have been so on edge and felt so guarded, so desperately needing to watch her every move with him. Otherwise, maybe, just maybe, she could have given in.

  With a sulk, she settled down to rest.

  Leandra eyed the rocky shoreline.

  “Why here?” she asked, shaking her head.”‘This place, it is cold, and dark, and dreary. I don’ like it.”

  “You just don’t like it because you have less chance to take off running. Agnes will blunt your powers, I’m betting. She did it before, just by being around you. She’ll do that and more,” Erika said, smiling with satisfaction.

  She loved this beach. Here, on this rocky shoreline in Maine, she could feel the wind on her face, taste the salt in the air, and she felt free. She didn’t feel quite so…normal here. She didn’t feel quite so human when she stood here. Something in the ocean had always called to her. Jonathan had brought her here for the first time after he had saved her.

  They used to come here all the time. Lately, he hardly brought her at all, but Erika remembered this place. And so did Agnes.

  The wind started to calm.

  Erika smiled as Leandra’s topaz eyes narrowed. The Jamaican had expected the wind to pick up around Agnes. But the earth loved Agnes. It didn’t go into turmoil at her arrival. It calmed. Except for the ocean. Nothing and no one of this earth could calm the ocean. So as the water crashed onto the rocky beach, the wind died down around Agnes Milcher as she made her way down the beach toward them, eying Erika with faded blue eyes, shaking her head mildly.”You’re a naughty girl, calling me when you’ve your whole family worrying themselves mad about you.”

  Though she was still more than a hundred yards away, her voice sounded all around them, as though she was above them, next to them and within them. Erika noticed that Leandra jumped, and then the black woman scowled, her eyes flashing. The young girl just smiled and laughed, running over the rocks and sand with her hair flying like a golden banner behind her as she flung herself toward the old witch, her arms wrapping around the woman’s neck.

  Of an equal height, Agnes looped her arms around Erika, holding tight and firm, her old body still strong and powerful after more than five of walking the earth.”Ah, child. We worried so. We knew Lori would find you, but by the time she and Jonathan reached where you had landed, you and this lady were already gone,” Agnes murmured, her hand smoothing down Erika’s hair.”And then, lass, you call me with this bit of news.”

  Erika turned and watched as her eyes met Leandra’s over the distance.”She’s not evil. I know what she did was, but she’s not evil. I know too much about evil to not be able to see it,” Erika said anxiously, holding tightly to Agnes’ arm as the witches studied each her. Agnes narrowed her eyes, her pale, lined face taking on an eerie, otherworldly glow, her eyes gleaming like pale blue pearls in the moonlight.

  “No…evil, she is not. But what she is, I’ve yet to decide. An unknown quantity, I dare say,” Agnes murmured.”So powerful, so full of courage, pride. And very protective of you. She gives her heart quickly, and wholly.” Sliding her eyes to Erika, she smiled.”Ahh, pet. None who loves you that truly can be so bad, can they? So what does she want?”

  “To know about the Hunters. She doesn’t understand them,” Erika said, flushing as she looked back at Leandra and saw that the woman was indeed watching her very closely, very protectively. She paced back and forth on a small section of beach like a caged panther, her long black braids swaying down her back as she moved.

  “Hmmm. We are easy to misunderstand to the outside eye. But I see the mark of our enemy on her. They have worked strongly within her. This may be beyond what words can say, pet,” Agnes murmured. With a sigh, she linked hands with Erika and they walked together down the beach toward the other woman.”I feel so much anger from her, so much resentment.”

  “I can hear you, old woman. And my anger is my own damn business,” Leandra drawled, facing them with her arms folded across her chest and her legs planted wide apart.

  “Good ears you have,” Agnes mused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. And not just the ones on your rather exotic head, either, pet. Over the crashing of the waves, the woman shouldn’t have been able to hear. Even a very refined witch-sense at this age most likely wouldn’t have heard that. Sarel wouldn’t have. Now, Lori might have. Though Lori wasn’t a match for this witch, not this one.

  Sarel, maybe. But not Lori, though she was not the soft, sweet innocent thing some mistook her for.

  This lean, dangerous woman was a warrior through and through, from the top of her black, braided head, to the bottom of her black-booted feet, with a long wicked knife on her hip. The aura radiating from her flickered from gold to blue to white to red, enough to make Agnes wish she had a pair of sunglasses, so bright were the lights.

  “Old woman, I’ve seen you before. With the big vampire, in Jamaica,” Leandra said, her expression closed and tight. “I know your face.”

  “I know many vampires,” Agnes said with a smile. “Many. And I’ve been to Jamaica several times, though none in recent years. You’ll have to be more specific than that, child.” Though Agnes was quite certain she knew who she was facing…so that is where you landed, child. Ah, Mal. We should have looked longer and much, much harder.

  “I think you know who I am,” Leandra smirked, arching an eyebrow. “I’m a little older, but something tells me that doesn’t matter to you, old woman.”

  Agnes laughed, the rich laugh carrying through the early morning air.”Oh, my. I think I like you. So fiery, so proud.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Why don’t you tell me why I’m here? I have to be frank, child—I’m not please to be here with a woman who gave loyalty to those...monsters. I’ve no love for you. None at all. But I have Erika back at my side. And she looks whole, happy and uninjured. I can manage a few questions.”

  “That girl here,” Leandra drawled, tossing her head at Erika. “She insists I am wrong about the lot of murderers you threw in with. I want you to convince me I am wrong.”

  “Murderers, is that what we are?” Agnes mused, tapping a finger to her lips.”Hmm. We’ve been called vigilantes quite a bit. But not usually anything so harsh as murderers. How is murder to stop monsters from killing children, stopping rapists?”

  “I don’t care ‘about the scum. They deserve whatever happens. I care about de ones who don’t scurry to do your will. What ‘bout them? You take them away and they are never seen again,” Leandra snarled, tossing her braids back. “Young children, men, women, you don’t care whether they want to join you or not. If they don’t, you kill them.”

  Agnes frowned and pursed her lips.”My, my, my. You are definitely rather confused, aren’t you?”

  “You came hunting me. If I hadn’t ran, I would be dead, too. Don’t tell me that I am wrong—I can feel the lies just as well as you.” As though she could no longer stay still, she started to pace, her long body tensed and angry.

  “Very well,” Agnes said agreeably. Linking hands with Erika, she held a hand out to Leandra and smiled serenely. “I shall not tell you anything. You would not believe a word I told you. So I shall show you.”

  Agnes could not stop the laugh that bubbled up from her lips as Leandra cursed, long and loud. But she did clap her hands over Erika’s ears.

  Eli slid his eyes to Sarel’s face. She was lost in deep thought, her eyes unfocused, faraway, her lips moving on occasion as though she were speaking. And he suspected she was. A faint scent clung to her skin that wasn’t truly hers, and a magick moved through the air that wasn’t hers either. The scent of lavender, powdered skin…Agnes.

  Bloody good news, for once, I hope. He blew a harsh sigh out as he rolled over onto his side, laying his hand on the flat of her belly, stroking the smooth, warm skin there, focusing on the soft hum of voices he heard in the back of his mind. But he couldn’t hear anything more than those voices. Not unless she wanted him to.


  When her body went lax, he opened his eyes and lifted his head, staring into her golden-green eyes with an arched brow. “What did Agnes want?”

  “She has Erika. She is safe,” Sarel said, a shudder racking her body.

  “Jon? Lori?”

  “Still where the Scythe have settled in; they know she is gone. I suspect Lori wants to go in and destroy everything. She’s learned too much of the Scythe.” Sarel’s eyes started to gleam. “Lori is no warrior. She can’t handle a battle on her own—not even with Jonathan. But I can’t reach her. She’s blocked me.”

  “Lori isn’t a child, or an inexperienced witch, sweet,” Eli said, sitting up, looping his arms around his legs as he stared into the night. His eyes gleamed dully in the night as he pondered the way to tell her that her sister wasn’t the child she still thought she was. “I’ve never doubted Lori’s abilities as a witch, a Healer or one of my Hunters.”

  “She’s not a Hunter.”

  “She is. She always has been. You just refuse to see. Bloody hell, Sarel, I trained her. Jonathan trained her. She’s a damn fine witch—”

  “She’s a Healer.” Sarel’s mouth was set in mutinous lines as she glared up at him, folding her arms over her naked breasts.

  “To be a Healer, she must first be a witch, and a damn fine one at that,” Eli said with a frustrated sigh, flopping onto his back and flinging his arm over his eyes. This was an old, tired argument. “Your sister is a woman grown, a talented, powerful woman. She can take care of herself, handle herself, Sarel.”

  “No. I won’t take that chance. Damn it, I’ll have to go after her,” Sarel muttered, sitting up and swinging her long, slim legs over the side of the bed.

  Though the sun was moving closer to the horizon, it was still several hours before sundown. Eli eyed her naked back narrowly as she strode over to the closet, her rounded ass swaying from side to side as she gathered up dark, tough clothes. Hunting clothes.

  “You plan to go alone.”

  “My sister, Eli,” she said softly.

  “Your sister isn’t alone. Jonathan is with her. And if you insist on this, wait so that I can go with you. Mal can remain here and we will go out together,” Eli said, sliding from the bed and moving up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders.

  “I can’t trust my sister to one man. He’s just a werewolf, Eli. And he barely tolerates her,” Sarel snapped, shrugging Eli’s hands off.

  Eli bit off a harsh laugh. Her action, that small rejection of his touch, caused a hot, biting pain to lance through him. He turned away, stalking through the room and snagging a pair of pants. Donning them, he turned and glared at her, his eyes flashing eerily in the dim light of the windowless room.

  “How can such an intelligent woman be so very dim?” he asked drolly. “Jonathan would lay down his life for any woman, but he would slay every last dragon known to man for Lori. He has been in love with her since he laid eyes on her. Rather odd that you are one of the few who do not realize it. And I wouldn’t call him just a werewolf. That is like calling you just a witch. Don’t make light of his gift. It’s more powerful than you know.”

  Sarel, though, didn’t really appear to be listening to him, Eli decided. She seemed to be focused on what he had said right after mentioning Jonathan slaying dragons for Lori. Something about the boy being in love with her sister.

  “You truly didn’t know, sweet? Be honest—he has watched her like a bleeding hawk since she first stepped foot onto my lands. Hell, closer than that. She couldn’t sneeze without him knowing about it.”

  “Then he’s obsessed. That doesn’t mean he is in love with her.”

  Eli shook his head. “No. He is in love with her. I know Jonathan. And I think you know him a bit better than you admit,” he murmured, moving a little closer, waiting until she was staring into his eyes before he started to circle around her. “What is more, you know Lori. She is in love with him. Together they are quite powerful.”

  “Lori is young. She is sweet, she knows a lot of potions and she can close up cuts. She isn’t a fighter,” Sarel sneered, brushing past him. He felt her shiver, though, as her naked arm brushed his.

  Eli shook his head.

  Bloody hell.

  Retreating to a corner, he watched as his little know-it-all finished gathering her belongings and then, just as she was getting ready to sling her pack over her shoulder, he lunged.

  Judging the time, he figured he just needed to stall her for an hour. Then he could venture outside without danger and follow Sarel while she tracked her sister down. Not that Lori couldn’t handle it. He suspected she could handle it very well.

  But he wasn’t so sure Sarel was ready to handle seeing her baby sister all grown up. And most likely pissed at Sarel’s very condescending attitude.

  Jonathan flopped onto his belly, burying his face in his arms, wanting to howl. He could smell her, hear her breathing, hear her heartbeat, all but feel the satin of her skin under his hands again. He should have pushed. Damn it, why in the hell was he being nice?

  Because she was right, damn it. He had no fucking right to push her after months of being an ass.

  Damn it, he wanted her. He wanted to spread her thighs wide and fuck her again. Wanted to hear her scream his name.

  Needed to hear her say she loved him...and then he needed to tell her that he loved her, the way he had never said before.

  A soft whimper reached his ears.

  Lori lay across the tent from him, sleeping on her bedroll, her head pillowed on her arm.

  Her face turned toward his and as he watched, she moaned again, faint. So very faint.

  The stuttering skip of her heart. A broken little sigh. Shifting on the bed. More movement.

  When a muffled scream rent the air, he wasn’t ready. Jackknifing up in the bedroll, he rolled onto his knees and was across the tent before the scream had even died on her lips. Pulling her into his arms, he scooped her onto his lap, murmuring her name with no thought to how dangerous it was to waken a nightmaring witch from her slumber.

  “Shhhh, shhhh, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” he whispered against her damp brow.”Come on, come out of it, love. Come out of it.” His hair spilled around them as he cupped one hand around her cheek, lifting her face to him as she tried to shy away.”Look at me, baby. Look at me.”

  Her body continued to tremble and shudder, her lips parting only to let another weak sob forth before she clamped her mouth closed as though she feared making another sound. Tears leaked from under her closed lashes, and Jonathan stroked them away with his thumb. Threading his fingers through her hair, he lowered his mouth to hers, pressing a gentle, soothing kiss to her lips.”Wake up, baby. Come on, wake up,” he whispered.

  A deep racking shudder tore through her and her eyes flew open, leaving her staring up at him, his face only inches from hers as he lifted his mouth from hers.”It’s me, Lori, it’s just me,” he crooned as he rubbed his thumb gently across her lip. Sweeping one finger across her cheek and drying the tear tracks away, he lowered his brow to hers. “What were you dreaming about?”

  The woman was as lovely as a faerie, with a soft, lilting voice—but malice filled every word, while her eyes were lit with the fires of hell. Lori stood staring from the shadows as Jonathan was dragged, bound and unconscious, into a deep, dark pit of a room in the lowest cavern in the network of caves.

  They called her Mistress.

  And she intended for Jonathan to do the same.

  He did not submit the way she wanted. With the gleam of madness and evil in her eyes, she told them to beat him to death, that the blood of his passing would work as well as his willing soul.

  She intended to create a twisted version of the Hunters. Somebody she could subvert, that could slide back into the Hunters and wreak chaos. From the inside, she wanted to break them. Break the confidence of one Enclave and you could shatter the bedrock of them all.

  She’d selected Jonathan. But if he wouldn’t do what she wanted, she’d
just kill him and find another.

  The bitch used blood magick, and she was strong. It could possibly work if she found the right soul to break. It nearly had worked...once. They had almost succeeded in subverting a broken witch, a lost soul, who had too much darkness in his life, and in his heart.

  But Jonathan didn’t have darkness in his soul, or his heart. And the were never walked alone.

  She fell to her knees, one hand at her mouth to hold back her screams as she saw his face, battered, bloodied and broken. Somebody grabbed him by his hair and forced him to look up at Mistress. She held his chin up with one dainty foot, turning it first one way, then the other, her lip poked out in a petulant scowl.

  “Stupid dog,” she drawled. “You had such a handsome face and now it’s ruined.”

  “Make him bleed,” she said quietly, cocking her head as she pulled her foot back. Her voice was as calm as though she were saying, “I’ll wear pink today.” As she walked away, dozens and dozens of people launched themselves at Jonathan’s inert, helpless body.

  No! Lori shot to her feet and slammed her palm against a barrier that blocked her from them, light exploded from it as her hand connected.

  This won’t happen!

  As she screamed, she heard the triumphant howl of a wolf.

  And then Jonathan’s voice, Wake up, baby, come on…

  Her eyes opened and he was leaning over her, eyes gleaming faintly in the dark from his distress. His scent filled her head and she could taste him on her lips. Damn it, Lori thought desperately, that image of him nearly dead, bloodied and bruised, was burned on her mind. I can’t let it happen…

  Reaching up, she buried her fingers in his hair and slanted her lips against his, licking along the seam of his lips. Feeling them part as he took a deep, startled breath, she pushed her tongue inside his mouth when they did. Shifting, she straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, that long, gloriously silken hair of his spilling all around them like a dark cape. Jonathan…