Hunter's Need

by Shiloh Walker

  “Hello, Kyle.” Even her voice sounded—more real.

  Kyle stared at her, his mouth falling open. “Marie . . . ”

  She glanced at Beverly and then looked back at Kyle. “Why are you hurting my sister?”

  “Hurting . . . ” He looked down, staring at Beverly like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “I’m not—I’m not hurting her. I think . . . wasn’t she trying to hurt you?”

  “No,” Marie said, her voice oddly gentle. Soft. Completely at odds with what Duke glimpsed in her eyes. Completely at odds with the frigid temperature of the room. If it got too much colder, it was going to be dangerous for Beverly and Ana. “She wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Somebody hurt you.” Kyle lowered his gaze to Beverly’s head, staring at her dark hair. He rubbed the back of his hand against her cheek, then caressed it with the flat of the blade. “I know somebody hurt you. I can still hear you screaming.”

  Kyle’s breath left him in foggy little puffs, but he didn’t seem to notice as he gazed at Marie with wide, worshipful eyes.

  “I’m screaming because I’m scared. I’m scared of what you’re trying to do to Beverly,” Marie said.

  “I won’t hurt her.”

  “Then let her go.”

  That confused look crossed his face again and he looked down at Beverly, stroked her hair. Then, carefully—as though he had to concentrate on each movement, he let her go and stepped away.

  Beverly stumbled and swayed. As she took a step, her eyes rolled backward.

  Duke didn’t wait two seconds. Before she could hit the ground, he caught her unconscious body in his arms and carried her across the room. The muscles in his back were tense, prepared and ready for a strike that never came. Laying her on the floor, he paused only long enough to check her pulse before he stood. Turning back, he stared at the scene before them.

  Kyle, gazing at Marie, that empty, almost rapturous look on his face.

  Marie staring at him.

  And glowing . . . her body was rapidly losing its solid look, Duke realized. The gentle, understanding smile on her lips faded away, replaced by something hard and cold. “You want me to stop screaming,” Marie said, laughing coldly. “Perhaps I could stop—once you start.”

  Ana gasped next to him, her hand flying to grab his arm. Short, neat nails bit into his skin. He looked at her, watched as she stared at Marie and Kyle. “They want in.”

  “In . . . ” They? Fuck. “They can do this without using you as a taxi this time.”

  “Not me. Him. But his shields are too strong.” She shook her head. Mesmerized, she stared at Kyle. “So were mine. I had to lower them to let Leah in.”

  “Whatever you’re thinking . . . don’t,” he warned.

  A smile flirted with her lips and she looked at him. “His shields are stronger than mine . . . but there are more of them. So many of them.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth. “If I can blunt your abilities when I’m blocking, maybe I can block his.”

  “Bad idea, Ana.” Duke shook his head. She’d have to lower her shields, and he wasn’t taking a chance with a bunch of vengeance-hungry ghosts hovering around them. If they decided to hitchhike a ride in her . . . no fucking way. “Besides, you don’t even know if it will work on somebody who’s got a gift like yours. And what if he fires it back at you?”

  Ana slid a look toward Kyle. “He’s a little preoccupied.” Then she closed her eyes.

  Duke felt something shift around her and he growled. “Ana, don’t!”

  She wasn’t listening, though and he grabbed her, hauled her against him as the moans in the air rose. From the corner of his eye, he could see them. Insubstantial, wavering shadows, pressing close and closer, bearing down on Ana.

  “Not her,” he snarled.

  They stilled. Oddly enough, they stilled. He felt their hesitation and he cut his eyes toward Kyle. “Isn’t he the one you want?”

  They swarmed toward him and Duke could only hope it worked. Ana shuddered in his arms and lifted her head just as the first shadow drew close. Kyle was still staring at Marie, although she became harder and harder to see with every second that passed. But then he flinched.

  Duke’s breath hissed out between his teeth as he watched.

  One after another, the shadows descended on Kyle and his body began to spasm and shake. Four . . . five . . . eight . . . nine . . .

  Kyle’s head jerked back, the cords in his neck standing out in stark relief. His eyes were wide and his mouth was opened in a silent scream. And Marie stood in front of him, staring at him.

  Spittle sprayed out of his mouth as he reached toward the ghost. “Help . . . help me!”

  Marie ignored him, turning to look in Ana’s direction. She turned her back on the man who’d taken her life and drifted toward them in a graceful, eerie glide. “All these years, I thought I’d laugh. Thought I’d dance. If I ever had the chance to see this end, I’d want to celebrate.” As she sighed, her form wavered in and out of view.

  Behind her, Kyle’s body, still upright, jerked about, seizure-like. He stared at them, helpless, confused . . . and aware. “Help . . . ” he whispered again.

  Duke drew Ana close. When Marie came back into view, they focused on her, ignoring the man behind her. “It’s over,” Duke promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Marie smiled. “No. They are making sure of it.” Even as she spoke the words, Kyle sagged to the ground, swaying on his knees for a few moments before crashing backward.

  His color was bad, going gray quick. His breathing began to hitch inside his throat, and Duke could hear the man’s heart as it started to falter. Death by ghost—that’s a new one.

  It seemed to last forever. And no time at all.

  Duke heard it when the man’s heart beat its last. His eyes stared lifelessly up at the ceiling and one by one, the souls that had settled inside him came drifting out. They hovered around his body in a shifting, insubstantial circle.

  “It’s done now,” Marie said, her voice flat.

  They echoed her in whispers and sighs—sighs that ended abruptly. As one, they looked up. A ring of light hovered above them.

  Ana wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight. Duke bent his head and pressed his lips to her crown, squeezing his eyes shut. Done . . . it was done. Through their clothes, he could feel her heart slamming away against her ribs—beating every bit as fast as his own, he figured. Yeah, give him a psychotic feral vamp over ghosts any day.

  “They’re leaving,” Ana whispered, awed.

  Startled, Duke looked up. “Son of a bitch.”

  They were leaving. One by one, each of them drifted into the circle of light until only Marie remained.

  She lingered next to Ana for endless moments and then she sighed and started forward.

  Behind them, there was a soft moan. Then Beverly’s voice. “Marie?”

  Such a familiar voice. Marie didn’t know how much time had passed since her death—time lost meaning once the heart stopped beating. But it had been a while, a long while, she decided as she turned and faced her sister. Years upon years, because Beverly looked old.

  She summoned up every last bit of her fading strength and focused. Bit by bit, her body became more substantial—or at least, she knew it looked that way.

  “Hi, Sis,” she said, and she was startled at how real her voice sounded.

  “My God, how can this be?”

  Marie shot a look over her shoulder, staring at Kyle’s body. Kyle—she cut her thoughts off before the pain could rip through her. It was over. It was done. He couldn’t hurt Marie anymore. But this would continue to hurt Beverly. Poor Beverly . . .

  “I don’t know,” Marie said. She didn’t, not really. She knew it had to do with how she’d died, but she didn’t understand why she’d lingered for so long. Why she hadn’t been able to move on. That was done though. Without understanding how, she knew it. Something was calling her. Pulling her. And faintly, she thought she heard another
voice, whispering her name. “And I don’t really think I have the time to explain.”

  Beverly’s face crumpled and she looked beyond Marie to stare at Kyle. “Kyle. It was really him?”

  “I’m sorry.” Another pull, this one harder, stronger. Commanding. She shuddered and felt it as she started to fade away again. With one desperate attempt, she pushed herself back and faced Beverly. “It’s over now, Sis. Over and done . . . don’t let this tear you apart now.”

  And then she couldn’t fight it any longer. The warmth drew her and after being cold for so long, she didn’t even want to fight it.

  ANA nibbled on her thumbnail as the cop continued to speak with Beverly. Duke sat next to her, silent, and listening to the conversation taking place fifteen feet away.

  So far, the older woman hadn’t said much of anything that could cause problems, but Duke wasn’t going to bank on their luck holding there. Already, he had a plan. If they got arrested, they’d get a call. One call was all it would take and this whole mess would be done.

  But if it happened, Ana would have to leave Alaska. If she disappeared from jail, her face would be everywhere. The Council could and would clean the mess up but still, Ana wouldn’t be able to come back here for a good long time.

  Oddly, he couldn’t find a whole lot of joy in that, though. She loved it here. He didn’t want her to lose that.

  Behind them, the door to Beverly’s house was closed. The house was empty and silent. The oppressive weight that weighed down on his shoulders was gone, and so was the edgy, driving need that had been shouting warnings at him. Warnings he hadn’t focused on, because he’d been too convinced he knew who the killer was.

  He hadn’t expected to see a threat here and Kyle had made damn sure that nobody could sense anything. Thank God the bastard hadn’t counted on Ana and her ghostly accomplices.

  It really was done.

  He reached up and rested a hand on Ana’s back, stroking it up and down. She leaned into him and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He needed the contact just then. Needed to touch her.

  “What’s going to happen?” she asked quietly.

  Duke glanced at the back of the ambulance, watching as one of the EMTs hopped out. “The EMTs think it was a heart attack. Makes sense that’s what they’ll find. His heart just gave out—I could hear it. It’s not like he’s young. Heart attacks are pretty commonplace. So it all depends on Beverly.”

  “I don’t know if that’s good news or not,” she muttered. Her shoulders rose and fell on a sigh as she stared at the emergency vehicles parked in front of the house. “Either she lies or she tells the cops that her husband was killed by some angry ghosts because he was a killer.”

  Duke rubbed his cheek against her head. “It will be okay. Just do me a favor—if by chance she mentions anything about ghosts, psychics, that sort of thing and the nice police officers decide we need to go in for questioning—play dumb. Act like you have no idea what they are talking about. And don’t worry. If this ends up causing problems, I’ll take care of it.”

  “Go in for questioning—that’s something I don’t even want to think about.” She stirred in his arms and looked up at him. “Exactly how will you take care of it, though?”

  “Remember that clandestine, uber-rich assembly of superheroes?” he asked teasingly. “They come in handy from time to time. We get tripped up from time to time. They won’t leave us hanging because we got in trouble doing what we’re supposed to do.”

  “I’m not part of that, Duke. They’ve got no responsibility to me.”

  He cupped her chin in his hand when she would have looked away. “You really think they’d leave you hanging, Ana?” There were other things he wanted to ask, wanted to say . . . like, You’re part of me, does that count? But this wasn’t the place. Wasn’t the time.

  “Probably not,” she said, her mouth curving in a bitter smile. “Although I doubt any of them will be real happy that I’m causing them even more problems. After all, I’d probably be considered one hellacious liability if I ended up in jail.”

  “You’re not a liability.” His hand tightened and then fell away. “And you didn’t cause this. I won’t let you catch trouble over it.”

  CHAPTER 15

  HE was gone when she woke.

  Ana lay in the bed, painfully aware of the fact that she was alone in her apartment. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, tried to breathe through the hideous pain spilling through her. But even the simple act of taking a breath hurt—hurt like fire, hurt like a razor slicing through her. Each beat of her heart was agony. Each movement was hell.

  Slowly, she sat up. Drawing her knees to her chest, she tried not to let herself be surprised. She’d known this was coming. The job was done.

  It really was over.

  It had been three days since Kyle Hartwick’s death.

  The day before, Ana and Duke had driven back up to Palmer. Ana could still feel something in the forest, but it had been faint, so much weaker than before. And Duke had been able to track it. She’d trailed along behind him and wasn’t the least bit surprised when he left the marked trail.

  Nor had she been surprised when he came to a halt and said, “There are bodies buried here.”

  “Bodies?”

  “Yeah.”

  She hadn’t asked more than that. He hadn’t offered. As they left the trail, he had written notes, documenting directions down on a piece of paper, making note of the trail and how far they’d walked before they left it.

  He’d send an email, he had said. Or an anonymous call. The bodies would be found. Maybe they could even find something linking them back to Kyle and get real closure. Something concrete, something other than Ana’s insight into what had happened.

  “So it’s done?” she’d asked late last night.

  “Yeah. It’s done. We did it, Ana.”

  Done . . . so there was no reason for him to stay any longer.

  Kyle Hartwick was being buried in a few days. The official cause of death, thanks to Duke doing some nosing around, was a heart attack, so they were clear. Of course, Ana still worried that Beverly would suddenly decide to tell people about the ghosts, or about how Ana spilled her guts about psychics . . . or even about Duke and his weirdly glowing eyes.

  But it really was over.

  That heavy oppression that had weighed down on her for the past few weeks was gone. That feeling of impending doom had disappeared.

  If it wasn’t for her broken heart, Ana would probably feel okay. Maybe even a little satisfied that she’d helped Marie.

  But she couldn’t feel anything beyond the ache in her chest. Duke had left . . . and he hadn’t said so much as good-bye. She swallowed the knot in her throat and tried not to cry. Took a deep breath, then another—but before she could manage a third deep breath, she started to sob.

  He was gone . . .

  DISTANTLY, she heard the phone ring, but it barely registered.

  Some time later, there was a knock at the door. She had half a mind to ignore it, but as the knocks grew more and more demanding, she figured she needed to get up, if for no other than reason than to make whoever the hell it was go away.

  And turn off her cell phone, she thought, as it started to ring.

  Dragging herself out of bed took more energy than she thought she had. Dragging on a robe and tying it took more coordination than she could manage. But the diligent thought each action required was a bit of a blessing—she managed to go twenty whole seconds without thinking about Duke.

  There was one more knock, harder than the others. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Ana muttered, shoving a hand through her disheveled hair. She used the sleeve of her robe to wipe the tears off her face but she didn’t care enough to do much more than that.

  She opened the door but there wasn’t anybody there. Frowning, she leaned forward and glanced down the staircase. Her eyes landed on Beverly’s back. “Beverly?”

  The older woman paused near th
e bottom, her hand resting on the banister.

  Edging out onto the small landing in front of the door, Ana crossed her arms over her chest, feeling ridiculously self-conscious. Red-faced, eyes swollen, her hair was a mess and all she had on was a T-shirt and a robe.

  “Ana.” Beverly turned and faced her, a wry smile appearing on her face. She started back up the stairs. She had a black tote bag in her hand. “I knew I wouldn’t be lucky enough for you to not be home.”

  Ana wanted to recoil just at the sight of the bag, although she had no idea why. Tearing her eyes away from it, she looked at Beverly instead. “Ahhh . . . do you want to come inside?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Ana left her unexpected guest in the small kitchen while she went back to her room and tugged on a pair of jeans. She almost pulled the shirt off, but she couldn’t—it was Duke’s. She wasn’t quite ready to separate herself from it yet. Later. She did take a few minutes in the bathroom to brush her hair and wash her face.

  When she left the bathroom, Beverly was sitting at the table with her hands folded neatly in front of her and the black tote laying several feet away. From the way the other woman carefully avoided looking at it, she suspected she wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to look at whatever it held.

  “How did you know where I lived?” Ana asked.

  Beverly smiled. “The police report. I’ve driven by here a couple of times. I think part of me was hoping that you’d lied about your address—then I wouldn’t have to see you. Plus, if you’d lied about your address, I could pretend you’d lied about other things.”

  Ana swallowed, unsure what to say.

  “But you didn’t lie, did you?”

  She shook her head.

  “It really would be easier if I could convince myself that you had.” Beverly sighed, her shoulders slumped. She closed her eyes and for a minute, both women were silent. Beverly looked back up, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Her warm golden skin had a sallow look to it and there were dark circles under her eyes.