Runner

by Roh Morgon

  I’m tempted to slip out the back and avoid him altogether.

  But I don’t.

  Instead, I head out the front to take the proverbial bull by the horns. I just hope he doesn’t gore me in the process.

  I wait with my arms folded while Taz shuts down the bike and climbs off. The fanged skull grins at me as the headlight winks out.

  “Thought you were going to wait until I called.”

  “I don’t wait for no one.”

  He stalks past me and into the barn, his braid snapping like a whip against his leather-covered back.

  Walking over to the small pasture next to the barn, I stare out at the oak-covered hills in the near distance. But I have a feeling it wouldn’t take him long to track me down, and that he’d be in quite a mood by the time he found me.

  The sound of bumping and clanging metal from inside the barn ends my fanciful musings, and too curious for my own good, I head in to see what Taz is up to.

  He’s rearranged most of the exercise equipment, scattering it around the sparring area of the barn. He drags the cable machine out a little farther into the middle, then, with his hands on his hips, looks around, apparently satisfied with his redecorating job.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Building a new playground.”

  “Jeffers wasn’t supposed to send anyone until Monday.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass what Jeffers does. I don’t answer to him.”

  “Do you answer to anyone?”

  An arrogant glare is his only response.

  He walks over to his leather jacket hanging from a nail in the barn wall and reaches into a pocket. When he returns to where I’m standing, Taz holds out his hand.

  In his palm is a slender dagger sheathed within a black leather case. The blade looks to be about six inches long, with another four for the handle. It’s bigger than Chia’s dagger, nearly the same size as Redd’s, but more refined.

  The handle appears to be made from polished antler, and has a silver cap on the end. The cap bears the same mountain lion paw print as the ring Taz made me.

  “You ever use a knife?”

  “No. Never really needed to.” I hold my hand up, flexing my fingers with their sharp nails.

  “Well, you can’t throw your fingers.”

  He has a point.

  His hand blurs and a thunk from across the barn tells me where the dagger landed.

  “That won’t slow down a Chosen.”

  Taz snorts as he walks over and pulls the blade from the wall.

  “It will if you plant it in an eye.”

  Gross.

  He hands me the knife hilt first.

  “Grip it by the blade. Like this.” He fits the steel between my thumb and forefinger. “Hold it, but not too tight. Now bring your arm back, snap it forward, and release the blade.”

  It hits the wall handle first and falls to the barn floor.

  “Try it again.”

  And I do. Over and over. But soon, the blade is sticking into the wood more often than not.

  Feeling a bit proud of myself, I look over where Taz is leaning against a cable machine, his arms folded.

  His expression makes me wish I hadn’t. The animal need on his face sends a jolt through me and I quickly look away.

  “Enough with the blade,” he says, his voice thick. His boots whisper through the straw as he approaches. “Let’s see what you learned last night.”

  I turn toward him just as his fist shoots out, straight for my face. I duck beneath it, then dart to the left, toward the equipment rather than the open area. He swings around the other side, then hops onto the incline bench and leaps over the leg press. I dash through the narrow opening between two machines, barely ahead of his grasp.

  Our cat-and-mouse game proceeds with me just one step ahead of him at every turn. His expression grows more feral with each near-miss. I fight the growing excitement in my veins and focus on eluding him.

  Deciding to shift the game, I ignore an obvious escape, and instead twist to one side and deliver a glancing kick to his ribcage.

  His elbow snaps back, just missing my face. I drop to the ground, intending to sweep his legs out from beneath him as I would an elk.

  But he’s not there, and I’m suddenly on the run again as he lands behind me. I manage to slip through several tight gaps between the equipment, gaps too small for him to follow.

  Taz stops, peering at me through the bars and cables.

  “Whose game we playin’, Sonya? Yours or mine?”

  “At the moment? Mine, I believe.”

  “Good. Cuz you know if I get you into the open, it’ll be my game, right?”

  I nod.

  “You only have three weapons. Speed, agility, and, most important, your mind. Read your prey. Use their strengths and the environment against them. The rest is simple.” His lip curls into a half smile. “Just pretend they’re a bear.”

  His analogy makes sense. I’m not strong enough to defeat him or any other Chosen. Nor am I strong enough to kill a bear. Yet I have a bear-claw necklace that proves otherwise.

  The tautness fades from Taz’s body and he walks across the open area toward the dagger.

  Disgusted with my mixed feelings over the end of our chase game, yet grateful for a break, I follow him. Knife throwing does seem a little safer at the moment. Anything is, as long as it maintains some distance between us.

  A blur is all I see before my back hits the ground, hard. When I open my eyes, Taz is on his hands and knees over me, red flashing in his eyes.

  A low, sensual growl slips from his chest.

  My breath stops.

  His nostrils flare and he slowly lowers his face toward mine.

  And then he is on his feet, his eyes narrowing above a thin-lipped smile.

  “Never fall for that trap. A fight isn’t over until your enemy is dead.”

  Unnerved, I can only glare up at him.

  Stupid me. He’d just lured me into the open with the same fake-out tactic I’d seen him use in the arena, not once but twice.

  “Don’t just read my body. Read my mind.” He jabs a forefinger at his temple.

  I scramble to my feet, nodding and brushing the straw from my butt.

  He stares at me, his gaze predatory.

  “So what’s it saying?” His voice is low, rough. “My mind. What’s it saying?”

  Something in his expression shifts.

  “Tell me. What’s it saying?” Raw hunger slowly creeps across his face. Tension ripples up his arms and across his chest, like a snake coiling just before it strikes.

  His entire being is screaming only one thing.

  I . . . want . . . you.

  My throat tightens.

  “What’s it saying?!” Taz steps closer, a savage light flaring in his golden eyes.

  Unable to answer, I slowly shake my head no and step back.

  He follows, and just inches away now, he takes hold of my shoulders.

  I can’t move. My body’s trapped by an internal battle between wanting to run and wanting to stay.

  One hand slides up from my shoulder and grabs my hair.

  Those eagle eyes bore into me as he slowly presses me against the wall.

  “What’s your answer?” he breathes.

  I want to resist, but my body craves this. Needs this. Like the deer frozen by the gaze of the hunter, all I can do is helplessly wait.

  His lips touch mine, gently at first, then with a crushing intensity that echoes through his whole body.

  My mind shouts its protest as my mouth hungrily seeks his. Growling in response, he tightens the grip on my hair as he releases my shoulder. His hand drifts downward, touching, squeezing, and fear ripples across my skin at what I’m allowing to happen. I tense, trying to summon the will to struggle against both my body and his.

  Taz growls again. His fangs graze my lips, and then he bites down, piercing my tongue. Blood fills our mouths—not just my blood, but his as well.


  The desire within it consumes me.

  Ghostly images flit through my mind—

  —an endless blue-grey ocean beside a cool sandy beach

  —the morning sun rising over a forest-covered mountain

  —carvings on a mesa, viewed from high in the sky

  He moans, pressing his body harder against mine, and instead of the wall behind my back, I feel soft fur beneath me, beneath us, as we make love beneath a sunlit sky.

  My soul screams for more as I clutch him against me.

  But my mind screams louder.

  No!

  This can’t happen. I’m supposed to be with Nicolas.

  This… this is true betrayal. I cannot do this.

  Outrage—at myself, at Taz, at the whole screwed-up situation—explodes within me.

  A deep roar bursts from my blood-filled throat as I rip my mouth away from his. Sinking claws into Taz’s chest, I try to shove him away.

  Violence explodes in the blood working its way through my system. I slash at his face and he grabs my hands and pins them against the wall.

  “Who is it?” he snarls. “Who is it that you’re choosing over me?”

  I clamp my jaw shut.

  “You owe me that much. Tell me his name. Tell me who he is!”

  All my instincts, all my past teachers, scream out No!

  But Taz is right. After all he’s shared with me, I do owe him that much.

  Because if it wasn’t for Nicolas…

  “Nicolas,” I whisper.

  “Who?” Shock and disbelief slice across his features. “What did you say?”

  “Nicolas.”

  He abruptly releases me and steps back, wiping his mouth. Fury now twists his face.

  “As in… ?”

  I nod.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Sunny. Sunny Martin.”

  With a heart-wrenching roar, he slams his fist into the barn wall. The wood explodes outward, and he slams the wall again and again. It disintegrates beneath his savage attack.

  I back away. It’s only a matter of seconds before he turns that rage on me.

  I’m on the floor before I take another step. His heavy body pins me down as he snarls in my face.

  “If I’d known you were his, I’d have destroyed you the instant you showed up. Take from him what he took from me.”

  His fist pounds the dirt beside my head, once, twice. Anguish flits across his face and he turns his sorrow-filled gaze back to me. Loss and loneliness echo through his blood, along with crushing regret. His expression softens.

  He brushes the hair back from my face, then slowly lowers his mouth to mine. Before I can force myself to turn away, our lips touch, soft as a butterfly’s kiss.

  “I would’ve shared everything with you,” he whispers. A fresh drop of blood hits my tongue, and then his weight is gone from me.

  Bloodtears course down my temples as the roar of his motorcycle fades into the distance.

  CHAPTER 73

  The chaparral tears at my bloody clothes as I race through the brush toward the reservoir.

  Taz was right about one thing.

  I do love to kill.

  Especially at times like this, when my emotions turn me into a monster every bit as violent as him.

  I did not lose the beast when I completed the Change.

  I became the beast.

  And my fight training has made me an even more efficient killer than I was before.

  It’s a good thing I don’t feed on people.

  A fresh scent drifts up from the ravine below me. Even though I’ve had more than my fill, the smell draws me like a magnet. I slow and shift into stalking mode.

  Red ecstasy vaporizes all my thoughts as yet another unfortunate creature dies beneath my fangs.

  When I regain my awareness, I’m so bloated I can barely move. The eastern sky is grey and the sun’s tugging at me as I crawl up into the arms of a big oak tree. My thoughts still numb, I gratefully settle onto a well-hidden branch just as the red blood haze fades into dawn’s darkness.

  A cool breeze tickles my cheek. When I open my eyes, Spirit-Taz’s ghostly form hovers in the branches beside mine. Golden light from his eyes pierces the shadows drifting across his face, like that of the sunlight dancing through the surrounding leaves.

  He’s so transparent I can barely make him out. Sadness shrouds his spectral body and the pang of loss taints the air around us. He reaches out as though to take my hand, but instead of his ethereal touch, all I feel is the whisper of an ice-cold flame passing through my skin.

  A crystal tear traces its way down his cheek. His lips form words, words I can no longer hear, and with a final sigh, he slowly disappears.

  TUESDAY

  CHAPTER 74

  The four-point buck within my arms kicks one last time as I dig my fangs in a little deeper. I want to drown myself in his blood, in any blood I can find. My veins hum with joy, yet the craving is still strong.

  But it’s not a craving for deer blood, or bear, or even human.

  It’s for him.

  I can’t forget the feeling of Taz wrapped around my body, the need in his blood interwoven with my own.

  It’s been three nights since I tasted it, since he tasted mine. I no longer feel him or his boiling emotions, but my mind still remembers. And no matter how much deer blood I drink, no matter how many deer I rip apart, I cannot erase his presence. Or my own longing for it.

  A snarl behind me brings me back to the here and now. Growling, I release the carcass and stand up.

  “Just wait your goddamn turn.” I wipe my mouth and glare at the pack of coyotes skulking in the brush around me. One, a little braver than the rest, slinks forward and attempts to intimidate me with his bared teeth.

  Before he even registers my movement, I have him in the air by the scruff of the neck, a hand clamped tightly around his muzzle. His muted whines as he twists in my grasp send the rest scurrying.

  “I said, wait your turn.” I toss him into the brush, not too hard, and tucking his tail, he vanishes into the woods.

  Walking down to the lake to wash up, I smile at the snapping and yelping behind me as the pack moves in on my kill.

  It’s pretty handy having my own personal clean-up crew. I’d been training them over the past month or so, but the last three nights I haven’t even needed to call them. They always seem to find me, and each afternoon when I wake in whatever tree I’ve chosen to sleep in, they’re nearby, waiting for the hunt.

  But they’re going to be on their own tomorrow. I’ve been gone long enough, and I’m sure Colin is fit to be tied over my disappearance.

  By my reckoning, it must be Tuesday. Dawn’s not too far off, but I should have enough time to get home and take a proper shower before the sun comes up.

  The yellow note taped to my front door contains only two words in Colin’s neat script.

  Call me.

  I rip it down. He can wait one more night. I’m really not in the mood to answer his questions.

  The dark bulk looming next to the house is something I can’t ignore, though, as much as I want to. I look over at the barn, at its accusing visage, and find myself walking toward it.

  From the doorway, the evidence is still there, as though lit with neon lights.

  The dagger buried in the post.

  The space on the wall where his body and his mouth pressed against mine, and mine pressed back against his.

  The ruptured wood next to it, the victim of his rage and frustration.

  And on the floor, there, where his heart broke. And mine.

  WEDNESDAY

  CHAPTER 75

  I’m at the dining room table working my way through a book on Eastern Europe when the Aston Martin parks outside.

  Taking a breath, I prepare myself. This is not going to be good. The only thing Colin had said when I called him shortly after sunset was, “Wait. There.”

  Colin walks in without bothering to knock. He comes i
nto the dining room and sets a manila envelope onto the table, then pulls out a chair and sits across from me.

  I lean back and fold my arms.

  The ice-cold expression on Colin’s face matches the tone I’d heard in his voice earlier.

  “No phone call. No note. Nothing. You just disappeared for three nights without a word.”

  Any explanation I offer will only make things worse, so I opt for silence.

  “I know he was here. There were fresh tire tracks at the barn. His scent wasn’t a day old when we came by Sunday night.”

  Shit.

  Nothing I say will fix this. All I can do is stare at him and wait for his verdict.

  “What you do and who you do it with is your business. Except for one thing—you asked for help to find Nicolas. And now I’m wondering why. I know how he felt about you. I thought I understood how you felt about him.”

  I thought I did, too.

  “I’ve invested nearly six weeks in you. Six weeks of missing nights home with my wife. Six weeks condensing decades of knowledge into enough concise elements to hopefully keep you from getting killed the moment you leave here. Six weeks of pinning all of our hopes onto the one Chosen who might be able to bring Nicolas home.”

  “Why?” I lean forward. “Why is it so important to you that Nicolas comes back? You’re not even of his lineage.”

  Colin slowly rises, the red in his pupils only underscoring his anger.

  “Nicolas is my Maker. When he needed me to step outside the lineage, I did so without question. Wherever he sent me, I went willingly. Whatever he asked me to do, I did it gladly. He is my lord, my commander, and my king. I would die for him.”

  In the face of such fierce loyalty, all I feel is soul-blackening shame.

  “You will finish this. Or so help me God, I’ll kill you myself.”

  Cold night air rushes in as the door opens and slams.

  I finish washing the bloodtears from my face and look up into the mirror. Into the dark, hollow guilt shining from my eyes.

  Guilt that I’m sure Colin didn’t miss. Even though he didn’t say so in plain terms, he pretty much accused me of betraying Nicolas with Taz. He was quite clear on how he felt about it, though.