Hunter, Hunted: a New Adult Fantasy Novel (The Spire Chronicles Book 1)

by Ashley Meira

  The clinic itself hadn’t changed much over the years. There was a fresh coat of white paint gleaming underneath the bright afternoon sun, contrasting nicely against the dark wood of the window frames. For such a popular place, however, it was completely empty. Ever since Trish’s secretary went on maternity leave two weeks ago, Lily had been helping out. She’d mentioned that business was a bit slow since people were too busy enjoying the last few moments of warm weather before autumn hit in full force, but this was too empty, too still. At the very least, there would be sounds coming from the back as Trish messed around with some concoction that hopefully wouldn’t explode and take the entire block with it.

  There was nothing, the building carrying within it a silence that roused a tempest in the pit of my stomach.

  Rowan hopped up onto the front desk and began rifling through everything that was laid out. I joined her, looking around for any clues. Weird, the computer was off. Why would it be off during business hours? A shadow flickered in my peripheral. I ducked down behind the desk, an ache in my back serving as a reminder that I was still recovering. Letting out a sigh of relief as Alex came into view, I stood up, pressing a finger against my lips. He crept over and leaned into me to whisper in my ear. The fresh smell of his shampoo mixed with his natural springtime scent completely distracted me from what he was saying.

  Luckily, Rowan was nowhere near as hormonal. “Lily said she figured something out, but all she said was Trish’s name before the call cut off. Morgan tracked her here.”

  “Is there anyone in the building?” he asked

  I shook my head, casting another furtive look around the place. “None that I’ve seen, but it’s way too quiet. The clinic is never like this.”

  “How many other rooms?”

  “Two. An office and an examination room.” Rowan nodded towards the left. “We’ll check the office.”

  We split up, Alex gripping his gun but not unholstering it yet as he moved towards the examination room. My fingers brushed over my own weapon, its holster decidedly unpleasant and out of place against the scrunched up material of my sweatpants.

  Trish’s office was as haphazard as ever. A computer sat on one side of her desk, the table’s light-colored wood obscured by the number of files that had been strewn about. I shifted a few of them aside after making sure they were just regular notes about some prototypes she was designing. Her computer was on, but a quick search through that only revealed patient records and surprisingly boring emails. I took my phone out and tried calling her as I walked towards the shelf of ingredients in the far corner.

  The phone rang on and on as I took stock of the alphabetized vials. Void basil, void lavender, void leaves… I put my phone away at the sound of Trish’s perky voice telling me to leave a message, frowning at the empty space that should have a container of void powder.

  “Even if she used it all up, why would she throw away the container?” I mumbled to myself.

  It was all rubbing at me like a thick wool sweater on a summer’s day. Trish had a mad doctor thing going on, but she wasn’t a killer. There was no way she would do anything to Lady Cassandra; they were close friends. Still, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d seen someone betray a person they were close to, and I had no problem admitting that I wasn’t exactly being objective in this situation. But if you couldn’t have faith in your friends, what was the point? Rubbing my eyes in a feeble attempt to alleviate the migraine quickly bubbling up into a hurricane that battered my brain, I went back to Trish’s desk, violently pulling open her drawers in an attempt to find any clues – or proof of her innocence.

  “Do you see anything?” I asked Rowan.

  “Besides the fact that the good doctor’s organizational skills haven’t improved?” said Rowan.

  “Her ingredients are neat.” Her unfazed demeanor had me hissing the words out, and I immediately felt bad for the attitude. She liked Trish, too, I knew she didn’t want her to be guilty.

  “A bit too neat for her,” said Rowan, her tail sliding papers around as she perched on the desk.

  I turned to face her. “You think it’s a clue?”

  “I think Lily’s whipping her into shape.”

  “Helpful.” I huffed, but decided to make a joke instead of a fuss. Maybe I’d be able to trick myself into lightening up. “Do you think that constitutes as animal abuse?”

  Rowan sighed. “Don’t quit your day job.”

  The front door opened with a soft click, and I scurried over to hide behind the wall. These weren’t the footsteps of a civilian. No, they barely made a sound – these were a hunter’s. The grooves in the wall pressed into my back as I tried to peer around the corner into the lobby. All I could see was the edge of someone’s shoulder, and it didn’t look like they planned on moving toward me so I could take a closer look.

  Confident that I could handle one person, even a hunter (it’s not like they were fireproof) I took a deep breath and stepped out into the open. “Trish, is that you? I was– Oh, hello…Vaughn, right?”

  The man nodded, standing idly by with his hands in his pockets. He was a year or two younger than me, blonde, with a short goatee and two silver piercings in each ear. His clothes were casual and unassuming, but practical, as was common for a hunter on duty. Hey, I may splurge on the occasional Gucci, but I’d never wear any of that shit out on a job. At least that was one good thing about being on sick leave.

  I knew Vaughn more from reputation than actual interaction. Rumors should always be taken with a grain of salt, of course, but word is that he was cockier than he should be for the amount of skill he actually possessed, and the only thing bigger than his ego was his ambition. Beyond that, I knew nothing about him. I remember seeing him with his friends at a few gatherings. They were loud, their laughter like nails on a chalkboard.

  “Hey, Morgan,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

  “Lunch plans with Trish,” I said, trying to act casual. The innocent look on his face riled me up, but I couldn’t tell if it was because there was actually something off or if I just didn’t like him.

  “Both of you?” His green eyes slid over to Alex as he stepped into the room. “I’d say you were trying to play matchmaker, but Doctor Bunny doesn’t seem like the cougar type.” Vaughn looked me up and down. “Guess you aren’t making a play for him, either. A bit less than dressed to impress, eh, doll?”

  We do not punch other hunters. We do not punch other hunters. I repeated the mantra over and over in my head, but it wasn’t helping. We didn’t punch them, but could we shoot them? Just this once?

  “Can we help you with something?” Alex stepped up behind me. His protectiveness was flattering, and as nice as the hand that came to rest against the base of my spine was, it did nothing to abate my immense desire to set Vaughn’s hair on fire.

  Vaughn shrugged. “Just lookin’ for Trish, dude. So, how’ve you been, Morgan? Heard you’ve been licking your wounds after getting your ass handed to you in some nasty little fight. You’re supposedly pretty tough, but I guess you bit off more than you could chew this time, huh?”

  We. Do. Not. Punch. Other. Hunters. I wasn’t sure what his game was, but if he was always this big of a dickwad, I’m sure I’d have heard something from someone. I wonder if this gave me enough reason to hit him. And, for the record, it wasn’t “nasty little fight,” it was a gigantic battle of epic proportions. Twelve demons and eight infernal (demon worshipping) vampires, all of them as tough as a boss on nightmare mode. But I had more important things to do than to pick a fight with this jerk.

  “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” I gave him a polite, if plastic, smile. “How about you? You’re stationed at Fall’s Barrow, right?”

  “Mhm. It’s boring as hell, though. Nothing like Manhattan, I’m sure. Guess we can’t all get such a sweet posting – must be nice being the head’s favorite.”

  Alex must’ve noticed the way I clenched my fists, because he ho
oked a finger in the waist of my pants, pulling me back before I could claw Vaughn’s eyes out. “Look,” he said, “Trish isn’t here at the moment. If you’re injured, you should go to the hospital–”

  “Or I could just ask Morgan here,” said Vaughn, his pretend smile now a sneer. “She could patch me up. It’d be a hell of a story, too. I mean, she’s practically a celebrity. Daughter of Sullivan Wallace, the most savant of Lady Maxwell’s protégés.” The tense cord in his voice only rose in pitch as he continued. “You beat a lot of people out to make the top of that short list. Bet your dad’s kicking himself for getting rid of you when you were a kid, huh? I wonder if he was surprised that you actually turned out to be a good hunter.”

  I could feel Alex tensing behind me. He may not have had much context for Vaughn’s words, but there was no way he couldn’t pick up on the way my skin heated, my magic boiling forth like a poorly plugged volcano. It had been so long since I’d had to deal with jealous fuckwits that I’d forgotten what it felt like. Most of the time, people were at least the tiniest bit subtle about it. Except that one chick who got drunk and tried to shank me with a broken bottle, but she apologized and bought me a drink after she sobered up. Also, I never wanted to kill her. Vaughn, however… Yeah, I could easily imagine seeing him melt into a pile of sludge.

  “Trish isn’t here,” I ground out, my jaw clenched so hard I could’ve sworn I heard it crack. “You should go.”

  Vaughn scoffed, ugly sneer still in place. “Don’t get so offended, Princess. It was a compliment.” The hell it was, jackass. Rowan hopped on my shoulder as I prepared to pounce. Killjoy. Why was everyone suddenly against me committing murder? “Hey, Lady Rowan.” Vaughn nodded at her before turning back to me. “Now, if you’re done with the attitude, you mind confirming a rumor I heard about Cassa–”

  “Lady Maxwell.” My nails cut into my palms, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see blood when I opened my hands. Electricity flickered in the air, frizzing the ends of my hair. At least this way I wouldn’t set the building on fire. And I’d get a chance to see Vaughn’s skeleton while he fried.

  My murder aura didn’t seem to bother him at all – that or he was too stupid to notice it – because he stepped forward, invading my personal space in a way I’m sure he thought was intimidating. “Rumor is that our fearless leader has bit the big one. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

  I kept my face neutral, but my mind was racing, anxiety washing away the rage. How did he know that? The only people who were supposed to know were the four of us who saw the body. Not even the servants knew; all Rowan told them was that Lady Cassandra’s flu had gotten worse. Had they blabbed about that? That wouldn’t lead him to think she was dead, though. Alarm bells blared in my head as Vaughn continued his douchebag diatribe, and this time I was certain it wasn’t just because I didn’t like him.

  He raised a brow. “Is that a denial?”

  Why the hell disrespectful fucks like this were allowed to stay in the family was beyond me. My first act as head would be to execute him, though it would probably be a good idea to keep that plan a secret until the position was actually mine.

  I forced another tight smile and said, “What the head of the family does is her own business, but I doubt something as simple as a flu could do much harm to her.”

  Vaughn pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “I dunno… She’s pretty old, dude. Have you even seen her lately? Well, I guess she’d tell you if she thought something was wrong. But maybe not. Everyone has their secrets. Not that you should feel bad about being kept out of the loop. I didn’t mean to hit a soft spot. My bad.”

  Yeah, he looked about as sorry as Rowan did patient; said feline’s eyes were thinned to the point where I had to squint to see even the faintest hint of green. I don’t even recall saying anything bothered me about Lady Cassandra. It’s a shame his hunting skills weren’t on par with his ability to slide an insult into every other sentence, he’d probably be Lady Cassandra’s successor if they were.

  “Vaughn,” said Rowan. “You used to work as a guard, right?”

  His brow furrowed. “Yeah, until a few months ago. Why?”

  “I was just wondering if you heard anything about a smuggling investigation when you were on the wall. Allegations of dirty guards and all that.”

  To his credit, he only looked shocked for about two seconds before slipping his poker face back on. “No, ma’am. What’s going on?”

  “Just some rumors that a few guards are filching bags of controlled ingredients, like void powder. They’re also stealing other ingredients, but the void powder really caught our attention.” Alex’s smile was mean, predatory, like a dragon grinning down at his lunch. It was hotter than it should’ve been.

  “I dunno, dude. All right, see you guys later,” Vaughn called over his shoulder as he walked hurriedly to the door. “Good luck with that investigation of yours. Honestly, though, it’ll be kind of hard to track down normal ingredients like pearl seeds or tea leaves.”

  My eyes snapped towards the back of his head. Fucking called it. “We didn’t say anything about those.”

  Vaughn froze, his shoulders tensing for a three count, before sprinting out the door.

  We followed after him as he shoved his way through the crowd. The civilians of Haven weren’t fazed by our rush, so making our way through the passersby was like fighting against a tide with pointy elbows, which was a scary image all on its own. Apparently, my sore side was a homing beacon today, inviting everyone to ram into it. Luck thy name is…well, I have no idea. How about coming to visit sometime and introducing yourself?

  The herd of people tapered off after ten annoying minutes. It really was a testament to Vaughn’s skill – re: lack thereof – that we were able to stay on his trail the entire time. Screw favoritism, it was his own fault he got assigned to the boonies instead of a major city.

  Vaughn kicked down the door of what looked like an apartment building on the left side of the street. I lost some traction when we reached the stairs, my side throbbing like the world’s largest speaker was blaring heavy metal right up against it. Before executing Vaughn, my first act as head of the Maxwell family would be to put elevators in every building higher than two stories.

  The sixth floor, which felt more like the twentieth, opened onto the roof. A refreshing gust of wind whipped my hair around and chilled my sweat-drenched skin as the pale sunlight hit us. We had him cornered now; his back was to us and he had one foot perched on the edge of the roof.

  “Step back,” I said, tendrils of ice swirling around my hands. There was no way I’d be able to hit him without the impact knocking him off the roof, but I might be able to freeze his legs to the ground. Maybe. I’d never bothered to learn a non-violent use for my ice magic, so it would be a gamble.

  “Jump!” a voice called from the street below.

  With a muttered, “Damn it,” Vaughn launched himself off the roof as commanded.

  “Follow him!” I cried, running to the edge and vaulting over.

  This time, I had the presence of mind to actually cast magic. A heavy gust of wind broke our fall, and we landed in the alley without a scratch. The harsh buffeting would end up leaving a few bruises, but that was better than becoming a pancake – or a glass-quilled porcupine. The only hint of Vaughn we caught was the end of his shoes as footsteps signaled his and his accomplice’s retreat. We rounded the corner, almost crashing into a nearby dumpster. Ha, suck it, Fates – no more things slamming into my side today!

  A clanging sound echoed through the passage and the sight of a manhole cover sliding closed told us all we needed to know. Why was it always sewers? Seriously, did bad guys get a discount on underground lairs? Hell, give me a freakin’ underground tunnel system over a sewer any day. At least those only smelled like dirt instead of piss and eighty degrees of yuck.

  “This is around where that apartment building should be,” I said now that we had a chance to speak. “The one
the ritual revealed. I can’t remember the exact address, but it’s here somewhere.”

  “Considering we chased Vaughn here, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the building we just chased him through.” Alex looked around. “We lost Rowan.”

  “It’s fine.” I winced as the stitch in my side flared up. Fuck running. “That happens. She always finds her way back home.

  “If you’re sure…” He looked around the area one more time before pulling open the manhole cover.

  He held it open in a way that would have been gentlemanly if it didn’t lead into sewers. There was no ladder, so I had to hop down into the pits of– Oh God, we needed to bleach these waters. Alex was kind enough not to splash me with the vomit water when he dropped down, so y’know, silver lining. It was quiet down here, no footsteps rang out to give us a clue what direction to head off in.

  “I vote we keep going until we get attacked or pass out from the stench,” I said, my voice nasally from pinching my nose.

  Alex nodded, and we began trekking through the sludge. My toes curled at the sensation of cold, filthy water soaking through my sweatpants, and I really regretted not taking the time to grab a pair of socks. The squelching sound that came with every step I took was not helping my mood. At this rate, I was sure my face would freeze into this grimace. Alex didn’t seem to be as bothered by our predicament, but that was probably because he was wearing thick combat boots and jeans. I was tempted to rip his clothes off just to have something stronger to wear. It’d give me a good view, too.