Blood Hunt

by Butcher, Shannon K.

  Torr’s paralysis was gone, but the man refused to go out and fight. He was glued to Grace’s side, watching her die slowly. There was nothing any of the Sanguinar could do to save her, and they’d wasted precious resources trying.

  The human women and children they’d rescued from a Synestryn nest a couple of weeks ago were not adjusting well to their freedom. The kids had nightmares. One of the women had killed herself three days ago, and Tynan had suggested that more may follow in her footsteps. He’d put all of them on suicide watch.

  Demons were closing in around them. Some of them had human faces—something Joseph knew would cause even the coldest Theronai to hesitate in battle. Their vows to protect humans ran deep and the Synestryn were using it against them.

  Things were falling apart. Even with the discovery of Theronai women in the world, they’d only found a few—not enough to turn the tide of war. His men lost more leaves every day, putting each of them closer to death. He’d had to sentence Chris to death only days ago, and he spent too much time wondering who would be next.

  He had to do something—anything—to give his people hope.

  Perhaps Andreas’s offer was the key to that hope.

  Joseph had talked to several of his most trusted men, along with Tynan, who spoke for all the Sanguinar. They all agreed that ending the stagnant war with the Slayers—believing it wasn’t a trick—was a risk they had to take.

  If it was a trick, at least Joseph wouldn’t have to worry about his headaches anymore.

  He left his office and went to the dining hall where Andreas had been spending his time, out in the open, very publicly. It was like the man was trying to make a point that he had nothing to hide, which made Joseph nervous.

  Still, reports indicated that the human children were drawn to him. Madoc had even gone so far as to tell them to stay away, but as soon as his back was turned, the kids came back, begging Andreas to play a game with them.

  Kids were good judges of character. They had no idea what was at stake or what Andreas was trying to do. They just knew that a new guy had come to play with them and break up some of the monotony of life at Dabyr. They weren’t afraid of him.

  That went a long way in Joseph’s book.

  He found Andreas sitting on the floor in front of a TV, playing some kind of racing video game. One of the little girls they’d found in the caves with Jackie was racing him and he was doing a good job of not being obvious about letting her win.

  “We need to talk,” said Joseph.

  Andreas handed his controller to another child and stood up. The children grabbed onto his legs, begging him to stay. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. We just have a little boring grown-up stuff to do.”

  He extracted himself from the children and gave Joseph a level stare. “I hope you have good news for me.”

  Joseph led him to a table at the far side of the dining area. He’d spotted at least four of his men nearby, keeping watch on Andreas, and there were several more out in the courtyard, working out. If things turned ugly, help would be here in seconds.

  Carmen sat only two tables away, typing on her laptop. He knew she was taking online classes, but had no idea which ones. She’d hardly spoken to him since he’d claimed her as his daughter, thinking he was doing so out of pity rather than honoring the memory of their fallen brother-in-arms, Thomas.

  Thomas’s dying wish was that Joseph claim her as kin, and Joseph was honor bound to uphold that wish. But Carmen was human. She didn’t understand their ways, and had yet to come around and forgive him for doing what was right.

  Maybe she never would.

  “Where is your sister?” he asked. Joseph hadn’t seen a single glimpse of Lyka since their arrival.

  “She’s in our suite, pouting.”

  Joseph couldn’t imagine her doing anything quite so petulant, though he could easily see her lower lip all full and begging for a kiss.

  The wayward thought shocked him and he shoved the image away, putting his head firmly in the game.

  “Have you decided?” asked Andreas, his body tense with anticipation.

  “I have. I agree to a truce with your people.”

  Andreas blew out a long, relieved breath. “Thank you, Joseph. You won’t regret your decision.”

  “Not so fast. You need to understand that our truce is in your hands. We will not attack you first. If provoked, we will defend ourselves.”

  Andreas thrust out his hand. “Good,” he said as Joseph and he shook. “That is all I ask.”

  “If any of your people break this truce, there will not be another.”

  “I understand. They won’t. We want peace as much as you do.”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Joseph. “Your people are prone to violence. It’s in their blood.”

  “So is obedience. They will do as I say, or they will challenge me for the right to lead our people in a different direction.”

  Joseph had heard about their customs, how their leader was chosen through combat. Andreas would have had to beat dozens of challengers for the right to lead his people. Which meant he was one tough son of a bitch.

  Andreas rubbed his hands together in eagerness. “Excellent. Now all we need to do is settle the formalities of our bargain.”

  “Formalities?”

  The Slayer frowned like he didn’t understand why Joseph was confused. “Of course. I’m leaving Lyka here to guarantee my trust; now I need the same from you. Who have you chosen to come with me?”

  Outrage flooded Joseph’s blood. His voice rose, drawing the attention of people nearby. “You want me to give you a hostage?”

  Carmen turned and looked at them. From behind him, Joseph heard the rasp of steel on steel as one of his men freed his sword. Apparently, his voice had carried farther than he’d intended.

  He held up his hand, signaling his men to stop.

  “That is the way these things are done,” said Andreas, as if his request was perfectly reasonable.

  “That’s not the way we do things.”

  “I already told you that we’re following the old ways. You keep my sister and I keep yours. It’s a civilized tradition, and tradition is the only thing keeping peace among my people now. I would have hoped you’d see that.”

  “You can rule however you choose. But once your traditions start involving my people, they’ve gone too far. Even if I had a sister, which I don’t, I wouldn’t send her with you.”

  Andreas’s jaw tightened. “I can see my work here is not yet done. Perhaps you’d allow us to stay for a while and give you time to get used to the idea.”

  “You can stay here for a century and I’m still not going to give you one of my people. It’s just not going to happen.”

  “You don’t know me. I get that. But I can’t go back to my people empty-handed and expect them to go along with this. I can show no sign of weakness.”

  “Are you revoking your offer of peace?”

  “No. I’m asking you for a show of good faith. If you can’t do that . . .”

  Carmen shoved her chair back and came to their table. She glared at Joseph, and then said to Andreas, “I’m his daughter. Take me.”

  An awful, ear-grating, tearing sound woke Hope. It sounded like a giant had ripped a Mack truck in two with its bare hands. Searing light burned her eyes, even through her closed lids. As soon as the flash faded, she forced her eyes open so she could look out of the open van doors.

  The first thing she saw was Logan sprinting toward her. His gaunt face twisted in fear and his lips parted around a shouted order she couldn’t understand. He was several yards away. His leather coat was flapping behind him like a cape. He held a big, bloody knife in one hand, and for a split second, she was afraid of what he’d done.

  And then her focus shifted to the thing behind him—the thing he was running from.

  It was beautiful. It gleamed with an internal light that surrounded it almost like an aura, but not quite. Shaped like a heavily muscled man, it was
easily eight feet tall, made from what looked like shards of ice or crystal. It held a transparent sword in each fist, and the blades were so thin they seemed to disappear when the angle was right.

  If it had been still, she would have sworn it was a work of art, perfectly sculpted into the shape of an ideal male. But it wasn’t still. It moved like water, gliding over the pavement on bare feet. She could see the grime of the street through it, and was suddenly embarrassed that it was seeing her world so dirty.

  There was no question that this thing was from another world. It was far too beautiful to be earthly—so beautiful it made even Logan seem plain in comparison.

  Hope blinked and felt tears spill onto her cheeks and cool in the frigid air.

  “Go!” shouted Logan, pulling her from her trance.

  She didn’t understand why he’d want to leave such a thing of beauty behind. It belonged in a museum or in an art gallery, on display for all to see.

  And then it struck. One of its paper thin swords sliced through the air and the trailing length of Logan’s leather coat was sheared off.

  It was trying to kill him.

  Shock trilled through her, spiking her adrenaline. Her heart kicked against her ribs, and her body broke into clumsy movement. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she had to move.

  “Drive!” screamed Logan, his voice fading. He was only a few yards away, but she couldn’t leave without him.

  Hope scrambled into the driver’s seat and started the engine. She felt the van bounce as Logan’s weight landed in back. She put it in gear and hit the accelerator.

  The tires squealed as they slipped on the icy street. The back doors of the van were still open, and in the rearview mirror she could see the crystalline man lift both of its blades to strike.

  Smoke poured out of the back as the tires spun; then, finally, the van jumped forward as it gained some traction.

  It was then that Hope realized that there was nowhere to go. Ahead of her stood a brick building. The alley running along it, both to her right and left, was barred with junk. The only way out was through that junk, or backward. Where the giant, armed, ice man lurked.

  “Hold on,” she yelled as the front bumper rammed into an old water heater.

  She heard Logan grunt in pain. The water heater spun sideways. The right tire went over something it shouldn’t have and exploded.

  Hope lost her grip on the wheel for a second, but the loss of control was long enough that they came precariously close to ramming into the brick building.

  Which gave her an idea. Whatever that thing was made of—glass, crystal, ice—it was bound not to like being smooshed into a hard wall.

  Hope spun the wheel hard, making the van screech about in a half circle. Something hit the inside wall of the van and she wondered if it was Logan’s head. She winced at the thought, but held the wheel firm.

  Looming in front of her, as tall as the van, was the crystalline man. His swords were raised to strike.

  Time slowed. Hope gunned the engine. The thing sliced downward. Its swords ripped through the van’s hood like it was tin foil. The engine died, but the van’s momentum carried it into the creature, pinning it against a wall.

  One of its swords snapped off, giving her hope that she might have actually defeated it. Then it held the broken stub of its sword aloft and the sounds of wind chimes and cracking ice filled the air. New crystals grew, forming a fresh blade in a matter of seconds.

  A strong hand grabbed her arm. “We must go,” said Logan.

  He pulled her from the seat toward the back of the van. The ground beneath her shifted and she lost her balance. Logan held her up as the crystalline man kicked the van away from the wall to free itself.

  Logan’s grip was tight, keeping her on her feet. They jumped out and he pulled her toward the closest building.

  With one hard hit from his shoulder, the locked door caved in. He pushed her inside. “It will follow. We need to find a defensible position.”

  “Does it have a weakness?”

  “Blunt force. Lots of it.”

  “I rammed it into a wall with a van. If that doesn’t kill it, what will?”

  “A wrecking ball would be nice.” Logan urged her forward into the vacant building. It smelled of sawdust and fresh paint. Shiny new cubicle walls showed that this place was being remodeled. Blue wires dangled from the ceiling and stacks of carpet tiles sat neatly in one corner. Toward the front of the building, near the lobby, the ceiling opened up to create an airy foyer. Several large windows let in what was left of the daylight.

  Despite their dire situation, Hope was still impressed by the remodeling job. Sadly, it was devoid of any wrecking balls. “I don’t see anything like that here. Do you?”

  “Hide,” he ordered. “I’ll hold it off while you get away.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  They wove through the cubicles until they found the front exit of the building. A hard vibration shook the walls.

  “The Warden is here,” said Logan. “Go.”

  “Not until you tell me how you’re going to kill it.”

  “I’ll think of something.” He looked up at the impressive two-story entrance. “Perhaps drop something heavy on its head as it passes.”

  He shoved the front door open, cracking the glass with the force of breaking the lock. Then he pushed her through the opening. “Run. Hide.”

  Logan turned his back on her, crouched, and jumped up. She saw him cling to the railing of the walkway above, and then he disappeared from sight.

  Through the cracked glass, she saw a cleanly severed cubicle wall fly across the room.

  As strong as Logan was, he was no match for that thing. And neither was she.

  Logan waited until the last second. The Warden lumbered into view in the foyer below, its wicked blades slicing the air as it searched for prey.

  A harmonic hum filled the air, the sound beautiful and deadly.

  As soon as he had a clear view, Logan hefted the tile saw over the edge of the railing and tossed it at the Warden’s head.

  It spun around, striking out at the projectile. The saw was halved by the Warden’s blade, but one of those halves struck home, taking a chunk of its shoulder with it.

  The musical sound of growing crystal rose up as the Warden began to heal itself.

  It looked up. Its transparent eyes fixed on Logan. A white light of recognition flared. Shards sprouted from its toes and forearms. It went to the nearest wall and began crawling up it, using those shards to dig deep and propel itself upward.

  Logan backed away from the railing and darted along the catwalk.

  Below, he saw a flash of movement and honey blond hair.

  Hope. She’d come back in to help him.

  Fear and rage pooled in his stomach. With every second that passed, the sun sank farther below the horizon, giving him strength. He was a long way from his best, but he’d find a way to kill that Warden and save Hope. There was no other option. He couldn’t let this creature loose on a city full of unsuspecting humans.

  Especially Hope. She was precious.

  Logan heard footsteps behind the stairwell door. On his right, the Warden vaulted over the railing and headed for Logan at a dead run.

  The stairwell door opened. “Here!” shouted Hope, holding the door open for his escape.

  There was no time to argue. He darted through the door and grabbed her arm as he passed. He started to drag her down, but she resisted.

  “Up. I have an idea.”

  Logan went with it, simply because fighting her would waste seconds they didn’t have. He’d stash her on one of the upper floors and continue on without her.

  Even if he had to knock her out.

  “We’ll push it off the roof,” she panted as they ran up the stairs.

  That might work. He wasn’t sure how many stories tall this building was, but it was possible the impact would kill it.

  The scream of bending metal and wind chimes ros
e up from below, getting closer. If they kept up this pace, the Warden would catch up with them before they reached the top of the next floor.

  Logan slammed his shoulder into the door leading to the sixth floor. More signs of construction showed up here, though it hadn’t progressed as far as on the first floor. The elevator shaft was easy to spot.

  He ran for it and jabbed the up button, hoping it was functional. Surely, they hadn’t been carrying all these construction supplies up the stairs.

  Lights over the door moved as the elevator car slid toward them.

  Through the window in the stairwell door one transparent eye gleamed. It saw them.

  Hope stabbed the up button. He could smell her fear, and the need to protect her from it rose up in him, roaring with the need for violence.

  The stairwell door exploded inward. It flew across the room, gouging a deep scratch in the concrete floor.

  Hope let out a frightened breath. “Oh God.”

  The elevator doors opened with a cheerful chime. Logan backed her inside with his body. He hit the button for the top floor, then the close-doors button. He waited until the doors began closing, and then darted out through the opening, knowing the Warden would come after the closest target.

  The sun was down, but the last lingering glow on the horizon made everything he did harder. With his strength hampered, he was going to have only one chance to trick the Warden and shove him out through a window.

  The Warden charged. Logan waited until the last second to duck behind the brick-and-steel-encased elevator shaft.

  Crystal blades swung at him, lodging deep in the wall, their tips only inches from Logan’s face. While the Warden struggled to pull them free, Logan sprinted to one of the large floor-to-ceiling windows. The wet street six stories down gleamed under streetlights that had just begun to flicker to life.

  He picked up a drill lying nearby and swung it by the cord, smashing out the window.

  The Warden freed itself and turned. It saw Logan and let out a howl that sounded like shattering glass. Its feet slipped on the floor as it gathered speed.