Hunter's Rise

by Shiloh Walker

  She tensed and before she could stop it, her heart banged against her rib cage, once. Hard and fast. Already in motion, she jerked up her knife.

  But he was faster— so much faster. And she knew.

  Hunter—

  The blade was in his hand and he stood five feet away. “If you try to kill Pulaski, I’ll have to stop you.” He eased farther away, moving into an alley at his back, away from the press of people.

  Sylvia curled her lip at him. “Fucking Boy Scout. Don’t you know what he did?”

  “Yeah. I know.” Something flickered in his eyes, a flash of rage. Gone within a blink. “If I had my way, I’d spill his guts all over the place and I’d do it in a way that he’d live long enough to suffer. But…”

  “If you breathe so much as a word about human laws, I’ll be the one doing the gutting.”

  He grinned at her.

  “Bloodthirsty. In more ways than one. I admire that in a woman.” Then the grin faded, and once more he stood there staring at her with solemn, serious eyes, his face grim. “You can’t kill him. He can’t die… yet.”

  Something in his voice whispered down her spine and made her still. Narrowing her eyes at him, she moved deeper into the alley. “Why?”

  “Because there are still victims missing— bodies that haven’t been recovered. Their parents deserve to have bodies to bury.”

  Sympathy stirred inside her as she thought of the boys she’d uncovered in her research. Yeah, she wanted to find answers for all of them. But she’d promised Toby’s parents she’d get justice for their son… and she’d do it. Pulaski had to die.

  She’d accepted a contract. She’d complete it.

  “That’s not my concern.”

  She expected to see disgust in his eyes. Disapproval.

  All he did was shrug. “I figured that would be your view on it. Which is why my priority is getting to him before you do.” He threw her knife into the air, caught it. Over and over, until the blade was just a silver blur above his hand. “Pity for you… the sun will rise in about a couple of hours. While you’re in your coffin, I’ll be out hunting. So unless you find him tonight…”

  She curled a lip at the coffin comment. She’d spent about as much time in a coffin as he probably had. And he knew it. “You have to sleep sometime.”

  “I never did sleep all that much.” He smiled at her. And then, he hurled the blade. She held still as it buried itself into the crumbled concrete at her feet.

  Bastard. The blade would need to be sharpened again.

  She lifted her gaze just in time to see his booted feet disappear out of her line of vision. He was already halfway up the old, rusted excuse for a fire escape.

  To follow or not to follow…

  Except she didn’t have time.

  He was right about one thing.

  She had to go to ground soon. And he could search around the clock. He’d have to rest sooner or later, but Masters came with higher power levels. Sylvia was a mean-ass vampire and she knew how to kill. But she wasn’t a Master. She’d never be a Master and sunlight was still a fatal— and she meant fatal—weakness for her.

  Damn it.

  R

  AFE was out of the house before Toronto even cleared the drive.

  “Unless you’re bleeding from every bodily orifice or you’ve turned him over to mortal cops, you get your ass back out there,” Rafe snapped.

  “Bigger problems than the mercenary,” Toronto said, shaking his head.

  “Bigger problems than the fact that she’s out there hunting for him and you’re not?”

  “Source says he might have connections to a prostitution ring… a kiddie ring— a bunch of high school kids.” Toronto crossed his arms over his chest and waited, watched as Rafe’s eyes flickered to red and then back to his normal black.

  “Go on.”

  “It may or may not be connected to a local school. Highbrow area, too, over in Cordova.” Toronto relayed what Bobby had told him, hitting the highlights. “He thinks a few teachers are involved, but he doesn’t know the names.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Toronto tugged the band from his hair absently. The pale strands fell forward to frame his face as he stared at Rafe. “Positive. This guy isn’t one who would lie to me.”

  “Shit, you mean you got a real friend somewhere around here?”

  Toronto snorted. “No. What I have is a weak, sniveling werewolf who knows I’d rather rip his guts out than look at him. He won’t give me an excuse. Lying about anything, even jaywalking, is about all the excuse I’d need with this guy.”

  “Are you too close to a line, Toronto?” Rafe asked softly, his eyes narrowed.

  “No. Trust me. Even you’d be hard-pressed with this one, your mercifulness.”

  Rafe blew out a breath, doubt written all over him. But he nodded. “Okay. Go on. Get back to finding Pulaski. We’ll get to work on this other problem.”

  “How do you plan on doing that?”

  A faint smile curved Rafe’s mouth. “I actually have the perfect plan.”

  CHAPTER 7

  I

  T had been more than a dozen years since Kel had come to Rafe.

  His wife, Angel, hadn’t been with them quite so long.

  And she wasn’t a Hunter.

  Sheila sometimes referred to Angel as a “hot mess,” and Rafe figured that was about as good a description as any. The woman wasn’t vampire, wasn’t mortal. When she was only nineteen, a vampire had forced their blood to mingle, and it had altered her on the most basic level. But even before that, Angel hadn’t been normal.

  She and Kel had met when they were children. From what Rafe had heard, she’d known she’d marry the boy the moment she’d seen him. Weird, yeah, but explainable, he thought. The other stuff… how Angel had known there was danger coming. How even after Kel’s disappearance, she’d known he still lived. Everybody else had given him up for dead, but she’d dreamed about him… not just dreams, but times when it was like she was echoing his life. His hungers.

  Not vampire, not human and she couldn’t make herself fit back in the mortal world, even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. Three days ago, she’d come to Rafe and told him he needed to find a way to make her fit in this world. Kel had nearly gone ballistic. He was a vampire, he was stupid in love with his wife and he was terrified of something happening to her. She wasn’t strong enough to handle a vampire, wasn’t fast enough to go head-to-head with shapeshifters.

  But Rafe could understand her need for something more.

  This couldn’t be any more fitting for her if they’d handpicked it. Because of the blood-sharing between her and the vampire years earlier, Angel hadn’t aged much since college. She had a young face, almost too young— her eyes changed that, but Rafe suspected she could act rather well. She could hide those old eyes if she wanted.

  She was also pretty as hell, and according to what Toronto had learned, the ring wasn’t just for boys. It included girls, too. Apparently they preyed on a certain type of kid— or teenager. Angel would pretend to be just that.

  He found her in the gym, going through a workout with Lindsey. For the past few years, she’d been training hard and she was getting better all the time. She usually went back and forth between training with her husband or Lindsey, and she’d picked up tricks from both the vampire and the werewolf that would surprise even some of the non-mortals. He had to admit, she moved pretty damn well.

  She probably couldn’t take down a vampire, but she’d never be a mortal’s victim.

  He watched them for twenty minutes, until he saw Angel staggering from a blow she took to the head. Then he called it quits. He needed her coherent and he’d seen her fight enough to know she wouldn’t really care if Lindsey pushed her into unconsciousness, not if she healed before her husband returned from his nightly patrol. And she would, another weird side benefit of that altered blood.

  “Enough.”

  Lindsey caught his gaze and grinned. “He
y, we’re safe. Kel’s gone for a few more hours— he’s got the western grid side tonight.”

  “I need to talk to her.” Grabbing a towel, he tossed it to the blonde standing at Lindsey’s back. “You want to shower?”

  Angel shrugged. “Not unless you want me to.”

  Rafe shook his head. “Come on. Let’s talk outside.”

  They were a little less likely to be overheard out there. And he’d be more likely to feel Kel coming in time to wrap things up. That way, both he and Angel could figure out how to present this matter to the young vampire.

  Because that boy wasn’t going to be pleased.

  Rafe knew that much. Even as he knew Angel was going to be delighted.

  H

  E pegged it right.

  Angel’s eyes were glowing and she looked more animated than he’d seen her in a long time. The only thing that dimmed that enthusiasm was when he said, “We’ll have to find a way to explain this to Kel. Without him trying to kill me.”

  “Don’t worry. If he gets too scary, I’ll protect you.” She gave him a faint grin.

  Rafe smiled. “I’ll take you up on that.”

  Kel wasn’t going to be able to kill Rafe, although if he got pissed enough, he might try. But the person who could get through to that one was Angel. She was the only one he always, always listened to.

  The blue of her eyes shifted, darkened to midnight. “He’s on his way. And he knows something is up.”

  Rafe cocked a brow at her. She shrugged. “He feels it through me.”

  Well, that may or may not be a good thing. If he felt it through her, then at least Kel would know that Angel wanted to do this, that she wasn’t being put up to it.

  And it didn’t mean jack in the end, he knew.

  Five minutes later, a furious vampire stood in front of Rafe, his eyes glinting with rage and fangs flashing as he snarled at him. “You actually want to send my wife into the middle of a sex ring. Have you lost your mind?”

  “I want to send a woman who is more than capable of taking care of herself to investigate a problem. We need to know what’s going on. She’s the only one we have who can pull it off, Kel, and you know it. These are high school kids.” Rafe raked his nails down his face and pointed to it. “Do I look like I can pass for a high school kid?”

  Kel curled his lip. “Send me.”

  “And what are you going to do? Pretend that you’re in night school or something? You need to be able to get in the school, move with the crowds. You can’t leave the house during daylight hours— you can’t even drag your ass out of bed before five yet. How are you going to help?”

  Kel glared at him and then spun around, staring at Angel. “You can’t do this,” he whispered, his voice soft, pleading. It wasn’t an order.

  All of them knew that. It was a plea that came straight from the soul.

  “I have to,” Angel said gently. She glanced at Rafe.

  He nodded and slipped out of the room. Shutting the door behind him, he sagged against the wall and sighed. This responsibility shit sucked, he decided. He hated it.

  T

  HE look on Kel’s face almost broke her. Sighing, Angel reached up and cupped his face in her hands, staring into his eyes. She had to make him understand, though. She was fading away here, bit by bit. She couldn’t exactly pursue some die-hard career— for one, she looked too damn young for most people to take her seriously. For another, in about five or ten years, people would wonder why she never seemed to age and she’d have to move on to another job or something before people started wondering too much. Picking up something just as busywork didn’t cut it because she wasn’t about to invest the time in something she didn’t love.

  The one worthwhile thing she did was volunteering at various places, but that could only take up so much time.

  The rest of her days she was here… doing nothing.

  As she had ever since she’d found her way back to Kel. It had been enough, for a while. And he was enough, to keep her heart happy. But it wasn’t enough in the long, empty hours when he wasn’t there, when he slept… and she couldn’t.

  All those long empty hours when all she could do was volunteer under a name that wasn’t her own— lying about who she was, or putter around the gardens, or shop, or read.

  She was losing herself, losing her mind, bit by bit and it didn’t have to be that way.

  She could be more—she should be more. And this was her chance. She just had to make him understand that.

  “I’m dying inside, Kel,” she said softly, hating herself as she saw him flinch, as she saw the pain her words caused him. “You seem to think that all I’m to do with my life is hang around here and do the grocery shopping, screw around in the garden… and it’s driving me insane. I need to do something.”

  “You do something— hell, you spend four or five days a week volunteering at hospitals and shit.”

  “Yeah. For a couple of hours. And I show people to this floor, to that floor. Don’t get me wrong— that helps. But Kel… I’m wasting.” Stroking her thumb over his lip, she studied his face. “Is that all I’m meant to do? Direct a person to the elevator that will take them to the fifth floor? Plant pretty flowers? Go buy more shoes that I hardly ever wear? You… you do something with your life. I barely exist.”

  “And what if you get hurt?” he demanded, curling his hands around her wrists. “You know what that would do to me?”

  Moving forward, she pressed her lips to his. “Probably the same thing your getting hurt would do to me. Yet I live with that fear every time you leave. And you leave here to go on patrol five times a week. You come back bruised, you come back battered, you come back covered with blood. And I still let you go. I don’t make you pretend to be what you aren’t.”

  “I’m not human anymore, Angel.” His lashes drooped, shielding his eyes from hers. Awful, terrible thoughts flooded his mind— and although he tried to block them, she sensed them anyway. They left him shuddering, half-sick, and her heart wrenched in her chest.

  Part of her wanted to say, Okay, I’ll tell Rafe I changed my mind—I won’t do this to you.

  Instead, she waited while those thoughts circled through his mind, as he fought with them and then finally looked back at her. Something half-desperate glinted in his eyes. “I’m not human, Angel,” he said again. “I can’t break the way others can.”

  She eased back, staring into his eyes. “But I’m not exactly human anymore, either… am I?”

  CHAPTER 8

  S

  YLVIA didn’t know how she’d caught the attention of the local do-gooders and she didn’t care, in the long run.

  What she had to do was find Pulaski.

  Okay, she was making a minor adjustment. She could kill him after she dragged the information out of him. If it took a quick mind-fuck, so be it. She’d forced information out of her targets before.

  She could do it again.

  An uncomfortable prickle nestled at the base of her spine, but she shrugged it off. It had nothing to do with anything the Hunter had said. It was just… well. Shit. It wasn’t even because it was the right thing to do. She’d already been pissed off because of what Pulaski had done. Hell, pissed off didn’t touch it. Infuriated, sickened, disgusted… and her heart had ached for those lost children.

  Finding answers wasn’t going to change the outcome of her job, right?

  No. It wouldn’t change anything, so why not do it?

  Yeah, she’d get that information from him.

  Then she’d get him done. All nice and neat. Before the Hunter caught up with her, because if he caught up with her, he would stop her.

  The cold hard fact was that she wasn’t any match for him.

  They were two completely different classes, and it wasn’t even so much that he was a Hunter.

  She’d met weaker-level Hunters before that she could have handled. This guy wasn’t one of them.

  And why did he have to be a Hunter anyway… hell, even if he was
a Hunter, she could have had fun dancing with him… if she had met him away from here. Off this job.

  Hunger rubbed through her body in a sweet, burning ache, teasing her skin, making her fangs throb with the memory of his scent. How would he have tasted? She didn’t know. She didn’t feed from non-mortals often. She didn’t think she’d ever fed from a Master were. It was supposed to be one hell of a kick.

  “Don’t think about it now,” she muttered as she settled deeper into the shadows. She was waiting for the door to that club to open.

  She could remember the acrid stink of that fear from earlier— it had been like a cloud, and she’d taken it apart, bit by bit until she knew all the layers, all the traces.

  Most vampires didn’t rely so heavily on scent, but Sylvia had long since come to accept she was about ready to max out in the power department. So she’d made the most of every ability she had at her disposal— she’d honed them, fine-tuned them until each one was a weapon or a tool of its own.

  Strength. Speed. Her refined senses. She wasn’t a Master, but she had mastered her skills.

  There was somebody in that club who smelled a lot like the man the Hunter had been trailing. Either very close friends… or lovers. Most likely lovers. They were together often enough that they wore each other’s scent like a second skin.

  It was entirely possible that what one knew, the other knew.

  Since she doubted she could get to the one the Hunter had been trailing without his knowledge, she was going to focus on the other.

  It was another forty-five minutes before her patience paid off.

  A skinny, pretty boy dressed in denim shorts and little else came out, a cigarette in hand and a troubled look on his face.

  “Hey.” Sylvia waited until his gaze swung her way. “You got another cigarette?”

  He gave her an absent smile. “Sorry…”

  Their gazes locked and he went mute, the cigarette falling from numb fingers, his mouth slack.

  Sylvia caught the cigarette, careful not to break the connection between their eyes. “I need to ask you some questions. Answer me and you can go back inside. You won’t remember.”