Hunter's Need

by Shiloh Walker

  Kyle studied Ana through the lenses of his glasses, blinking in curious, owlish way, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was looking at or where he was.

  “Beverly?” Kyle said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine,” Beverly said, her voice wooden. “They were just leaving.”

  Ana looked back at Beverly, then glanced at Kyle. Duke tugged on her arm, hard enough that she stumbled against him. Automatically, she flung out a hand and grabbed the edge of the wood-and-glass étagère that graced the entrance way. Pictures wobbled. One started to fall and she reached out to steady it.

  And she found herself staring into his eyes.

  Him—

  Blood roared in her ears. Jerking her arm away from Duke, she grabbed the picture, stared at it. Dazed, she lifted her gaze and stared across the room. Into his eyes. Eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses, but they were the same damn eyes.

  Screams rose in the depths of her mind, a cacophony that drowned out anything and everything else.

  “Duke . . . ”

  His only response was a growl. He knew. He’d picked up on it way before she did and that was why he’d been trying to urge her out the door so fast, trying to get her out of harm’s way, probably.

  He moved in front of her, placing his body between her and the others. But Ana wasn’t too into that idea. She moved back around him, staring at Kyle with horrified fascination. “You. It was you.”

  “Excuse me?” Kyle frowned at her, a puzzled, almost absent sort of frown. “Have we met . . . oh, wait. You’re the student who came by last week, right?”

  “She’s not a student,” Beverly said, her voice harsh, shaking. “You two need to leave.”

  But Ana couldn’t have left that house just then if her life depended on it. “You killed her,” she whispered. “You’re the one who killed Marie.”

  Beverly stared at Ana, stunned and horrified. “That’s an awful thing to say.”

  But Kyle was smiling. A humorless twist of his lips that did nothing to soften the ugly void she sensed inside him. “I knew you were going to be a problem,” he muttered, smoothing a hand back across his thinning hair. “Even under all those shields of yours, I thought I felt something odd about you. Trouble. Nothing but trouble.”

  The smile he gave her was cold. “Just like that bastard, Paul. Always trying to interfere. Should have taken care of you the first day you came around here.”

  Duke edged in front of her one more time and this time, she was too dazed to even notice. Staring at the picture in her hands, she waited for her mind to catch up with what her instincts had already figured out.

  It was a picture of Beverly and Kyle—at their wedding. Judging by the clothing styles, it was probably taken back in the seventies. Something on the frame caught her eye—a small piece of metal, engraved with the date August 16, 1975.

  Eight months before Marie had disappeared.

  Dear God. Beverly had spent more than thirty years married to the man who’d killed her sister.

  He keeps looking for me, seeing me even though he’s already killed me once, and he keeps trying to kill me again and again.

  Ana could so clearly remember those words, like Marie was standing right there, whispering them to her. “Marie . . . ”

  As though simply saying her name had opened a door, Ana felt them. She shuddered as screams echoed through her memories. Shivered as the temperature in the room started to plummet.

  It was them. All around her, she could hear the echo of ghostly sighs and wordless whispers. All of them, reaching out, to push against Ana’s shields. Demanding entrance—no. No they didn’t want inside her shields . . . or even inside her. They wanted her voice, wanted once more to settle within her body, but not for a jaunt down memory lane this time.

  They wanted to confront their killer . . . using Ana as the conduit.

  Thank God she’d added to her shields, because even the weight of their presence was painful . . . so many. All of them pushing at her. If her shields faltered and they slipped inside her . . . she shied away from that thought. It would be a bad thing . . . a very bad thing. Even if they didn’t mean to hurt her, they would.

  But her shields held, strong and steady, thanks to the extra work she’d put into them.

  She took a deep breath, fought to settle her ragged nerves. She could handle this—Duke seemed to think she could, and it was about time Ana actually tried to be strong, instead of running away.

  For Marie—

  Marie . . . ?

  Ana reached out, but she already knew the answer. Marie wasn’t there. Somehow, Ana knew this man’s first victim wasn’t there. She couldn’t be around him, couldn’t find the strength to manifest around her killer. God, no wonder. It had been her sister’s husband who’d done this to her.

  Carefully, Ana placed the picture back on the shelf and looked around Duke’s body, staring at Kyle. “You killed Marie,” she said quietly.

  Beverly shouted, “Don’t say that!”

  Kyle just smiled.

  Save for the way the skin tightened around his eyes, there was no warning. Something slammed into Ana’s shields with enough force, the impact sent her to her knees. Duke moved, all silent, feline grace, catching her and steadying her. He wasn’t looking at her, though.

  This guy felt all wrong. Duke stared at him, struggling with the animal inside. He was a tangle inside—part of him wanted to rip and tear, yet another part of him want to recoil. It wasn’t fear, but some strange aversion he couldn’t quite understand. He recognized it, though. It was the same way he’d felt a few days earlier as he and Ana prowled the forest paths in the Chugach Mountains.

  The desire to leave was strong, but it warred with his own instincts, the part of him that looked at the older man in front of him and saw the threat.

  The guy looked so fucking normal—like somebody’s grandfather, like a preacher, like a doctor—somebody people looked at and just instinctively trusted. If it wasn’t for the part of Duke that made him a Hunter, he just might have looked and trusted.

  Hell, Ana had looked at him and trusted. She’d known this man, had met him before and nothing about him had set her instincts screeching. Nothing about him had penetrated her shields—the shields.

  Fuck. The damned shields she’d lived behind were probably the reason, kept her from picking up stuff that might have clued her in before now.

  Of course, those shields had also kept her from putting out her own vibes. If this man had any clue about Ana’s gift . . . No. He couldn’t go there. Not now.

  Distantly, he heard a woman’s soft, erratic breathing, gasp and catch, like she was trying not to cry.

  “Kyle?” Beverly whispered. The desperate plea in that simple word, it was so full of pain and grief.

  From the corner of his eye, Duke watched as Beverly gazed at her husband. The blank look on his face had the woman utterly terrified.

  The air suddenly was ripe with the stink of fear. Sharp and acrid, burning on the back of Duke’s tongue and teasing instincts that were already working overtime.

  Cold, too. Damn cold. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood straight up, but he didn’t dare look around to try and see if Marie was here. Not that it would do any good—the ghost had already told them, she was useless against her killer.

  Next to him, Ana shook, trembling in the cool air.

  “Kyle, make them leave,” Beverly said, once more pleading with him. She didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want her head to accept what part of her had already figured out. “Make them stop saying these things.”

  He ignored her. Like she didn’t even exist for him, he sauntered closer, watching Duke and Ana. He didn’t seem to notice the chilly air, immune to it as he came to a stop just a few feet away. His smile, that friendly, affable smile, widened as Duke shifted to keep him away from Ana.

  “I knew you’d be trouble,” Kyle said again.

  Curling his lip, Duke said, “You ha
ve absolutely no idea.”

  Kyle wasn’t watching him, though. He was staring at Ana—like Ana was the threat. Like she was indeed some kind of problem.

  Stupid bastard. Duke was the one who was going to be a problem. He was trouble—as a matter of fact, he planned on being more trouble than this sick bastard had ever dreamed of. The only thing that kept him from shifting and ripping Kyle’s murderous heart out with his own claws was the fact that Beverly was still watching them with horrified fascination.

  She watched them, and in her eyes was a growing understanding. Already her scent was changing, as disbelief and grief morphed into rage.

  Shit, things were going to get bad fast if Duke didn’t get it under control. Ana stood behind him, still half in shock if he was guessing right and Beverly was struggling to deal with everything playing out in front of her.

  And Kyle—he just stood there, smiling. Duke watched him, felt something spike in the air, felt it flow toward them. Duke tensed, prepared for some sort of impact. Most psychics had gifts that worked more in a defensive manner, or were better suited to information gathering.

  But on occasion, some of them had a gift that could be used to cause direct physical harm. Duke had a bad feeling this fuck was one of them. Duke was useless against psychic power, so his only chance would be to eliminate the threat before they got hurt.

  He shifted, keeping his body between Kyle and Ana. Even as he tensed for impact, the tension in the air mounted. From behind him, Ana laid a hand on his shoulder and hissed out a breath. Nothing happened—no, not exactly right. There was no impact, but that mounting tension in the cold air remained, swelling to a crest before slowly fading away into nothingness. Kind of like he’d taken a walk outside in a downpour—he felt the impact of the rain glancing off the umbrella, scented it, heard it, but it failed to reach him.

  It hadn’t failed, though, whatever strike Kyle had flung at them. It had been blocked. Somehow, Ana had blocked it and Duke had a feeling it was because she’d deflected it with her own shields. It wasn’t something she’d done without price, though. He could scent her pain. He didn’t dare take his eyes off of Kyle, but the beast inside screamed in rage as he scented pain.

  What the fuck—

  It hit again, something massive, unseen. On his shoulder, Ana’s hand tightened and this time, there was a bigger impact. Harder and stronger, enough to send him staggering back a step. Without looking away from Kyle, he reached out, brought Ana closer and steadied her body against his own.

  Beverly, unaware of the unseen battle, finally managed to find her tongue and she stormed up to her husband. “What’s going on, Kyle?” Her teeth chattered as she spoke and she had her arms crossed over her chest as though to warm herself.

  Kyle reached out and stroked a hand down her hair, a gentle, loving gesture, one he’d probably done a thousand times during their marriage.

  It happened quick—too quick—another psychic surge of energy came flying their way. Duke and Ana braced for another impact and that was when Kyle grabbed his wife and jerked her against him.

  She cried out, startled, and then that startled cry turned to an outright scream, piercing and terrified, as her husband lifted his hand. In it, he held a knife. Poised at Beverly’s neck, the silvery blade flashed light back at them.

  Cold—a wind whipped through the room, like a blast straight from the arctic.

  Duke growled, the muscles in his body tensing, preparing for action. The skin along his spine rippled and he fought against the Change, struggled to remain in his human skin. He couldn’t spare the few seconds it would take to shift, not right now. But he didn’t need to change to kill this bastard. He could do it just fine with his own two hands—

  Ana caught his arm before he moved. “Don’t,” she whispered. “He wants you away from me. My shields aren’t strong enough to cover you if you aren’t touching me.”

  Divide and conquer—

  “How strong is he?” Duke asked.

  Her lips twisted. “Stronger than me. Better than me . . . I had no idea he had any sort of gift. I’m sorry.”

  Beverly struggled against Kyle, but the man’s wiry body was stronger than it looked and he held her easily. Barely even seemed distracted by her struggles, because he managed to lob another psychic burst at them. It hit harder this time and Duke muffled a startled grunt as it hit him. Full-body, blunt-force impact, that’s what it felt like. Ana cried out and swayed. If he hadn’t had an arm around her waist, she would have gone down.

  “Kyle, what are you doing?” Beverly asked, her voice trembling.

  Kyle kissed Beverly’s temple and murmured, “They want to ruin it. They want to keep me from finding her.”

  “Finding who?”

  But Kyle didn’t answer her question. Instead, he focused on Duke and Ana. “You should have just left me alone. Left us alone—I have to find her. She needs me.”

  “Don’t you think you’ve found her enough?” Duke asked. When he spoke, his breath came out in heavy bursts of vapor. The room was now so cold, steam was rising off his body. Behind him, Ana was shuddering, shaking with cold. And distantly, like a forgotten song, he heard them.

  Whispers. Moans.

  From the corner of his eye, he glanced at Ana. Her gaze met his for the briefest second, but he saw it. She heard it, too.

  Kyle frowned. “If I’d found her, I wouldn’t still be looking for her.” He sighed and nuzzled Beverly’s hair. “I’m close. I know it. I can almost feel her . . . ”

  At first, Duke thought he was imagining it. A louder voice, familiar. One that had given him more than a couple of bad moments. “Feel me, can he?”

  Ana tensed next to him. “Marie . . . ”

  Unaware of the voices, Kyle sighed and a dreamy look replaced that blank, disturbing look in his eyes. “Marie. She’s so beautiful. So fragile and delicate . . . like an angel. I need to find her, protect her.”

  “Protect me.”

  Her voice echoed so loud, Duke and Ana flinched. Beverly went pale. Duke didn’t even have to ask—she’d heard the voice, too.

  Judging by the wide-eyed look on Kyle’s face, he’d heard it, too. But he didn’t look as pale as death the way Beverly did. Tears flooded his eyes. A smile curled his lips. He craned his head around, searching the room. “Marie?”

  While he was distracted, Duke edged a few inches away. Then the bastard’s eyes cut back to his, scowling. “Where is she?”

  “Where is who?” Duke blinked, feigning innocence.

  “I heard her—I just heard Marie, calling to me, crying out.” He looked down at Beverly and frowned. A confused look danced across his face. “I have to protect her.”

  “Protect me.” A laugh, cold and icy as an Alaskan winter, echoed in the room, coming from all around. It bounced off the walls, growing louder and louder until abruptly, it ended. “Protect me, Kyle. What are you going to protect me from?”

  Still standing frozen in Kyle’s grasp, Beverly whispered, “Marie?” Her tear-filled eyes sought out Ana’s, and Duke felt his heart break a little as the older woman asked, “Is that Marie? Or is this some kind of trick?”

  Marie sighed. A sad, lonely sound. “It’s me, Beverly. Honey, I’m so sorry.”

  “What’s going on?” Beverly demanded. She jerked against Kyle’s hold and his arm went tight.

  Marie wailed. High and keening, it was the kind of noise that could keep a person from sleeping easily—or sleeping period.

  Duke scented the blood before he saw it, dark crimson flowing against golden skin. His muscles tensed and under the weight of his anger, his control fell in shreds around him. The muscles in his hands shifted, reformed as the bones broke and realigned. The semi-shift was soundless and swift, taking but a few heartbeats. The pain of the shift was barely noticed, he was so fucking enraged.

  Ana reached out, laid a hand on his arm when he would have attacked. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t?” Duke snarled.

  “She’s not hurt,
not right now,” Ana whispered, staring raptly at the woman and the psychopath who held her.

  Fighting the rage, Duke focused on Beverly, listened to her heartbeat, eyed her color. The nick on her neck was small, bleeding freely, but it wasn’t deep. Behind her, Kyle seemed mostly unaware of what was going on as he hauled Beverly backward with him, skirting the perimeter of the room as he called out for Marie.

  She didn’t answer, but Duke knew she wasn’t gone. Neither were the others. He could hear them, feel them.

  “Damn it, where is she?” Kyle demanded, pointing at Duke with his knife. “Did you hurt her?”

  The smear of blood Duke glimpsed on the knife didn’t do a damn thing to cool him down. In a harsh, barely intelligible growl, he said, “You’re the only one who ever hurt her, you stupid, crazy fuck.”

  Kyle flinched. “That’s not true!”

  “You hurt her.” It was Ana who spoke this time. “Just like you hurt the others.”

  “I didn’t want to.” Kyle squeezed his eyes closed, knocking against his temple with the hand he still had fisted around the knife.

  Duke tensed and edged a little closer. But like the bastard had radar or the hearing of a shapeshifter, the faint sound Duke made had Kyle’s eyes flying open while he edged farther away. “I didn’t want to hurt her. But she wouldn’t listen. Told me that she didn’t love me, and she laughed, told me I didn’t really love her. I couldn’t let her keep saying that. Marie—Marie, where are you? Help me find you and I’ll take care of you.”

  For the longest time, it was quiet. Duke and Ana waited while the tension built and Kyle continued to drag Beverly around the house. Beverly stumbled along with him, not fighting, not speaking. She stared ahead with a flat, blank expression that warned Duke they didn’t have too much time, because the older woman was going into shock, in a big way.

  “Where are you?” Kyle demanded, his voice growing angry.

  “I’m right here.”

  She drifted into view and to Duke’s surprise, she looked a hell of a lot more solid than she had the few times he’d seen her. Solid—almost real. Except she glowed. Except her body was a paler washout than she would have been if she’d really stood there.