The Hunters Series

by Shiloh Walker

  He hadn’t even had time to finish explaining when she pressed her hand to the mirror, cancelling the spell. He was growling, furious, and ready to blast her when the air around him tightened.

  She was standing in front of him five seconds later, a pack in one hand, and an apple in the other. She crunched into the shiny red fruit and chewed as she met his eyes.

  After swallowing, she lifted the apple for a second bite, but first she said, “You could have gotten any witch you wanted here. Why me?”

  “Because you can fight. I want a warrior as well as a scholar. Only a few of us fit that bill, Leandra. And for the record…I didn’t pick you specifically. I reached out. You answered. Basically, you chose yourself,” he said.

  She ate more of the apple, insolence written in every line of her body, all over her exotic face. “Uh huh.”

  Malachi laughed. “She has got to be the cockiest bitch I’ve ever met. Damn it, I like you, Leandra,” he said, shaking his head.

  She arched a brow and turned away, a dismissive look on her face.

  Poor kid. The thought came abruptly to Ben’s mind as he watched her walk away, looking anywhere but at them. How alone she must have been, all of her life.

  But he forgot the momentary distraction when Leandra lifted a book that Shadoe had been flipping through for the past few weeks. Her eyes closed and her head fell back.

  “You can’t track her scent. I’ve already tried. She erased her touch, her scent from everything,” Ben said quietly.

  “Not from her—I can feel her. A soul like mine,” she whispered. “I recognized that the moment we saw each other. And so did she.” Her eyes opened, and something odd passed through them, almost eagerness, wonder. “A soul like mine… Surrounded by evil.”

  Then her face drew tight with strain, and rage made her eyes start to gleam. She said, “The man with her is taking her to Louisiana. There’s a man there he plans on giving Shadoe to. He wants her broken, and he can’t do it.”

  Fury flooded Ben, and with it, the primal power of the Wolf, straining inside his skin, yearning to be free and to start the Hunt. His muscles spasmed and skin rippled like water—he fought it back.

  “We leave now,” he said quietly. “Nobody touches what is mine.” The setting sun was shining through the cracks in the blinds, true dark still an hour away. Casting the streams of light a glance, he told Malachi, “I’m assuming you’ll have no trouble catching up with us?”

  Malachi grinned. “Well, if I let you leave without me, I’d catch up easy enough. But there’s no need for me to linger here.” His face went blank as he spoke, and Ben bit down the questions that rose. But he understood well enough what the vampire didn’t say. The sun was very little, if any, deterrent to him.

  Hell, were all the tales he’d heard of Malachi true? Of course, if they were, that made him an even more powerful ally than Ben had expected.

  Leandra couldn’t get over watching a vampire walk in the daylight.

  She’d heard of Torrance O’Reilly, now known as Torrance Donovan. The Huntress was supposed to be only legend, a young vampire who could blend in with the mortals, one who had all of the vampires’ strengths, none of their weaknesses.

  But Malachi wasn’t of her ilk. He was pure vampire, and as he flipped on a pair of shades, covering eyes that squinted at the sunlight, she suspected he had many of their weaknesses. He just had a higher tolerance. One that was probably close to immeasurable.

  Her skin buzzed just being close to him. Everything about her felt pushed to the maximum of sensation, from the buzzing of her skin, the tightening of her nipples, the hot little flashes that hit her belly every time he turned those midnight blue eyes her way.

  His eyes, his hands, everything inside of him, everything that made him Malachi, had the power to draw.

  Yet, as she slid back behind her shields, it faded, dying down, until looking at him was like looking at the ancient works of art she had seen in Milan. Awe-inspiring, but not for her.

  Of course, she did have to admit a bit of envy for the woman that man was meant for.

  She folded her long legs up as she climbed into the SUV, leaving the front seat for the vamp and the Inherent. With a wry grin, she wondered if SUVs had become the mode of transportation for the paranormal population by choice or by chance. How many SUVs had she ridden in since she had fallen in with those she used to hunt? Cross had driven one, Kelsey, three of the Hunters who had tagged her in New Mexico…

  And Mike…he’d driven one.

  Clenching her jaw, she ordered herself not to think of him. That one would be her undoing.

  Settling down, she closed her eyes and focused once more on the other woman. That done, the thoughts of the man she had damn near killed faded. For the moment.

  Cradling the book in her hands, she murmured, “We’re coming, girl. We’re coming.”

  * * *

  Shadoe was in trouble.

  She knew it the moment she stepped through the door of the isolated monolith on the outskirts of Baton Rouge. The trees damn near hid the thing from view. And some ancient magic hid it from the senses. She could feel those spells part around her as Marcus drove, following the pathway that was leading her to her doom, for certain.

  Nobody would know this place was here, unless they already knew of its existence.

  Lost in a forest of cypress trees and grand oaks, the front lawn dotted with magnolia trees that filled the air with a sweet perfume, it was an isolated world from an era long gone.

  It was lit by candlelight and magic.

  As she followed Marcus down the hall, she could feel the weight of that magic pressing in on her, testing her.

  And eyes. She could feel eyes on her, eager to discover her secrets. Swallowing her fear, she took stock, reaching out the way Ben had showed her.

  Only to be flung back, as though an unseen hand struck her across the face, she went flying.

  Her head struck the wall and she crumpled, unconscious, to the ground.

  “Fuck, Pierre, was that necessary?” Marcus growled, as he turned and watched Tiffany hit the ground.

  “You should have told your bitch to keep her hands to herself,” a soft, accented voice murmured.

  Out of the shadows he came, a slimly built man with gilt-colored hair falling to his ass in loose waves.

  “She’s not my bitch,” Marcus said with a tiny grin. “I’d planned on selling her to you.”

  Pierre gave the crumpled body a negligent glance and said, “Why should I want her?”

  “Because she belongs to the Hunters,” Marcus replied easily.

  When Pierre’s grass green eyes lit with interest, Marcus almost rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.

  He had him. Oh yes…he had him.

  * * *

  As he followed the naked ass of one of Pierre’s slaves into the formal dining room, he took stock, eyeing a huddled body in the corner with hunger.

  “Have her, if you like,” Pierre said. “I have something much more appetizing to look forward to now.” He moved his eyes to the ceiling. In the rooms above, his new toy was being stripped and bathed clean of the scents of the men she had been fucking, and clean of the scents that had soaked into her pores while she had been with Marcus.

  Pierre Dumas could smell the scent of a wolf. Inherent, he was fairly certain. And there had been another scent, faint, but oddly familiar.

  Pierre wasn’t sure what that one was.

  Not that it mattered. She belonged to him now.

  And the Hunters didn’t even know he existed.

  His magic took care of that. Wiping his touch clean every time he moved on, choosing his prey wisely, he had eluded the eyes of the Hunters for five centuries.

  It was an amusing game to him, a game of chess they didn’t even know they were playing.

  But Pierre had grown tired, of late, of playing in the shadows.

  And too many of the vamps he had sired were dying by the wayside. None had managed to find th
eir way into the esteemed Council. And he had sired many, hoping for just that.

  Offspring of his inside the Council meant he was inside the Council. He could slide inside the mind and never leave any trace of his passing. None of the others he had ever touched had remembered. They didn’t even remember his face after they had been sired, couldn’t recall the specifics of anything.

  And he liked it that way.

  Operating in the dark gave him freedom. Made it easier to hunt without being “Hunted”.

  Although a select few did know of him.

  Men like Marcus, who could be of value to him.

  Pierre smiled at the woman who knelt between his thighs. Her lips were wrapped around his cock, sliding up and down with practiced moves, a smile dancing in her eyes.

  By the corner of one of her lids, a tattoo winked.

  Leandra said, “She’s in a house, but I cannot read her. She was there one moment, gone the next, like a wall came down.”

  Behind that wall, something ancient lurked. She sensed the great power, the great age.

  Ben blew out a breath and asked, “If we drive around, do you think you’ll be able to pick anything up?”

  Leandra lifted one shoulder. She didn’t like this. She felt blind…too blind. Something odd was going on and she didn’t know how to handle it. The gifts she had alternately cursed and relied upon throughout her life didn’t seem to be working right now. As though something was blocking her.

  Malachi frowned. “Something is blocking you,” he murmured, ignoring the dumb look on her face when her jaw dropped open.

  A mindreader…he can read my damn mind? She knew vampires could skim through the thoughts of mortals, but damn it, she wasn’t a mortal, it shouldn’t be that bloody easy.

  He cast a glance. “It’s not as easy as all that, unless you go broadcasting your thoughts like you just did, pet. The words were on your face, in your eyes. I didn’t have to read a bloody thing,” he said, quirking a brow. “Until you went and shouted just now, a mindreader… I hadn’t ever breached your mental walls. Not that I had tried.”

  Her cheeks flushed but her dismay faded as Malachi started to…hell, she didn’t know how to describe what she was seeing. He just suddenly became more, his eyes glowing as though lit from within, his fangs dropping, and he even seemed larger, as though he was looming over her and Ben. Power rippled from him, the power of his very presence, stumping her into momentary silence.

  It was having a similar effect on Ben and the shifter didn’t like it. She had to fight the urge to throw herself at his feet, although there might be some interesting things to do while down there. Ben, on the other hand, wouldn’t find anything worthwhile in submitting to the ancient one and the urges rolling through him were making him uneasy, restless, enough that she could see wildness swirling in his eyes as the wolf within him started to wake.

  “There’s something here that shouldn’t be… Where is the closest Hunter? Is it a vamp? A wolf pack?”

  Ben slowly said, “There’s a pack on the other side of New Orleans. A vamp at the border. Eli commented that it’s not a good idea to have too many of our kind around here. Too many people seem to look for us here, even though most of humanity doesn’t even believe in us. We have to keep a low profile in this sort of place. But a few members from the pack are full Hunters and they live within the city.”

  “Any witches? No vampires closer than the border?”

  Ben frowned. “Nobody wants any territory here. The pack is several hundred years old, one of the oldest in the country, but once several of the pack members were recruited by the Council, nobody ever felt the desire to settle here. The few kids we take from here that are inclined to become Hunters don’t want to come back. It’s watched, order is maintained.”

  “Is it really?” Malachi mused. Shaking his head, he said, “There is something here that shouldn’t be. A blackness, a cloud…”

  “There’s nothing here, Mal. I don’t sense a damn thing,” Ben said, brushing it aside. “We need to get moving and find Shadoe.”

  Leandra shivered, as something raced down her spine at Malachi’s words. But she forgot her unease within the hour.

  And as they drove, Ben grew more agitated. Shifting in his seat, slapping one broad hand against a muscled thigh, his eyes darting over the buildings and the people with a blankness that made her worry.

  But as a long, powerfully built sax player on the street corner caught her eye, she forgot even her worry.

  And why they were there.

  Malachi felt cold dread settle in him as Ben tossed him an aggressive, challenging glance.

  Bloody hell there wasn’t something there.

  Ben had just circled the same block three times and was now parked at the side of the street, his eyes locked on the slender ebony-skinned woman who was dancing at the side of the sax player.

  The heat had both the witch and the shape-shifter sweating lightly, the evening breeze that floated through the open windows doing little to cool them.

  It didn’t affect Malachi—under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed the scent of life that was hovering just outside the black SUV.

  However, this wasn’t normal. Something was wrong…very, very wrong.

  “How is staring at that pretty thing helping you find Shadoe?”

  Ben tossed a disinterested glance as he reached for the door. “Who?”

  Bloody hell…

  Malachi was slow to move as he assimilated that response. The blankness in Ben’s gaze, the restlessness and loss of purpose now written in his eyes. He turned his head to speak softly to Leandra, only to see her sliding to the edge of the seat, her amber eyes locked on the bald, powerfully built man who was playing the sax, the sleek, ebony beauty pressed up against his back, her hands on his hips as they danced for their audience.

  “Leandra,” Malachi whispered, dropping his shielding a bit.

  He saw her response in the way she licked her lips, how her nipples stiffened under the confines of her shirt and bra. Cocking her head, she stared at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Ummm,” she purred, shifting forward and resting her cheek on the side of Ben’s seat, her eyes locked on Mal’s face.

  “Isn’t there something you’re supposed to be doing?” he asked quietly.

  “Besides going over there and getting that man away from his horn long enough to fuck me?” she asked, grinning cheekily.

  Oh, that decides it, something is definitely not right. Shaking his head, Malachi leaned closer until they were nose to nose. “Wake up, witchling… Something isn’t right. You came here to do something. What was it?”

  Her eyes clouded and she frowned. “I’d rather be over there with him. I’d rather do him than whatever it was,” she drawled, but he could see the confusion in her eyes. Canting her head to the side, she worried her lip with her teeth. “I don’t know…looking. I was looking for something. For—somebody.”

  “Aye, you were.” He waited.

  “A woman.” A shudder racked her body and her hands shot up, plowing through her braids, clutching them in her hands. “I can’t think. What is wrong with me?”

  “A strong one, too. I feel it pounding at my mind, trying to get inside me.” He could feel it, battering at him, but he was far too old, far too powerful for something as meager as a spell to break into his mind.

  Leandra and Ben on the other hand…it had gotten to them.

  Leandra’s eyes were starting to glow now, Mal observed. Reaching out, he laid a hand on her skin and dropped his shields, watching as her body arched up and a startled gasp fell from her lips. Her eyes glowed hot and hungry and then she started to swear.

  “Fucking vampire, what are you doing?” she snapped, jerking away and flinging herself against the back of the seat, lust rolling from her in waves. Her nipples were hard and peaked, swelling against the front of the plain black T-shirt she wore, and he could smell the heat gathering inside her. His own cock jerked in response and he felt like
swearing in return.

  But her eyes were clear.

  “Are you aware now, witchling?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Damn straight I’m aware, you bastard. What were you thinking?” she snarled. Then her face cleared and her eyes went cold as that awareness trickled through, bringing with it memory. Her eyes moved to the sax player and she licked her lips, a nervous reaction as she tried to move her mind around what had damn near overtaken her. “What in the holy hell was that?”

  “A spell. A very strong spell,” he reiterated. “It’s heavier than a rain cloud, hanging over the whole bloody city and catching everybody inside within its net.”

  “How…how can that be possible?” she asked, her voice faint. “That would take so much energy, so much strength…the witch would have to be more than ancient to have built up enough energy to lay the spell, and keep it up all the time. It would take the power of centuries to create and maintain. Witches don’t live that long.”

  “Not unless they’ve bonded with vampire or an Inherent, no. The bond would let her live as long as her mate’s normal lifespan. But if that is the case—” his words fell off ominously as the light in his eyes started to pulse with rage. “Why haven’t the wolves in the pack made us aware?”

  “If it’s that powerful, they may have fallen prey to it as well,” Leandra whispered, swallowing the knot of fear in her throat, her eyes moving away from Malachi’s.

  “Aye. They do whatever Hunting this witch lets them do to keep them thinking they are doing their bloody job,” he growled, his fangs aching and throbbing, his eyes incandescent in his anger. “Just enough, and no more.”

  His rage was rolling from him in overpowering waves and he saw the reaction it was causing in her. He could see her nervousness as she moved her eyes away to keep him from seeing the angry spark his rage unwillingly lit within her. Could see it in the way she carefully inched back, all moves made in the least threatening way possible. She knew how to avoid rousing a dominant monster’s anger, knew how to avoid setting off any kind of confrontation, even when it sparked her own anger.