Hunter's Rise

by Shiloh Walker

  He ignored the voice as he studied the people in the hotel. It was busy and it was loud. And better still? There was a wolf in hiding who worked the night shift at the local cop shop. Perfect. The wolf would be his messenger. He was being chased, and although the idea scared him, he figured if he gave them what they wanted, they’d leave him alone. He hadn’t done anything, really. Nobody had died because of him, except Alan— and making him a vamp wasn’t really dying.

  Plus, he’d be dead soon. They’d want that, he knew.

  He watched the taller man’s back as they moved into the room, already seeing how it would play out. He had a plan, of course. It was one that had come to him as he rested.

  As they went into the room, Alan was already stripping out of his clothes, his eyes glowing with two different kinds of hunger.

  As Alan came to him and started to tug at his clothes, he let him. He’d already wanted another time— they had fun together. He’d miss him.

  T

  HE wolf in hiding was Sean Curtis.

  He worked homicide. He’d been with the Detroit Police Department for going on twelve years now and he was considering a move. The sick work he saw in front of him made him wonder if he shouldn’t go ahead and make that move.

  But it would follow him. The sickness. The madness.

  Because he couldn’t get away from the kind of monsters that did this. Not any more than he could get away from himself, at least.

  He smelled vamp in the air and he smelled madness, like something dying. It was the kind of madness that ate at one’s mind slowly, over a period of years, eroding away any sign of humanity, any sign of decency, any sign of empathy or compassion.

  It had taken a special kind of madness to do this, that was certain.

  Madness… and strength.

  The only recognizable part of the victim was the face. Every other part of him looked like… meat. Just meat. Slivers of bone. Muscles and tendons bared in a grisly display.

  “This is some sick shit,” his partner muttered, her face a chalky gray under the warm, smooth brown of her skin. Taya Mercer stood with her arms crossed over her chest and a grim look on her face as she studied the body. Get a good look, Taya. You won’t get another one, I bet. “Look at that— tearing up the rest of the body, but leaving the face like that. Why?”

  Sean had his suspicions.

  He also needed to start making some calls. This sort of shit pissed him off. They were supposed to take care of their damn problems and when they didn’t, it made trouble for those who tried to live their lives as normally as possible.

  Like this piece of work. That was a dead vamp on that bed and Sean knew damn good and well a vamp couldn’t go through an autopsy, couldn’t have his blood tested, none of it. Which meant Sean was going to have to pretend to work a murder after the body “disappeared” as this one was bound to do. Once he made a few phone calls, that would damn well happen.

  The body would disappear. Any blood samples would disappear. Nobody would be able to find a fucking trace, and everybody connected to it would get a new asshole ripped. Including Sean.

  He’d be dealing with questions he couldn’t answer and pretending to work a murder he couldn’t actually solve.

  Sorry, Lieutenant, but the man was murdered by a vampire. Yes, a vampire. I’m afraid that we cannot apprehend the vampire in the normal method, unless you want to arm the men and women of the DPD with silver bullets and stakes…

  Dragging a hand through his hair, he stared at the body on the bed. That was one big-ass problem lying there in a pool of nasty, congealing blood— blood that was the wrong color to be human, too. The techs had already commented on that.

  All sorts of big-ass problems for Sean, and that was just on the job front.

  Since the nutcase who’d called it in had specifically requested Sean, it told Sean two things… the killer knew about him, and the killer wanted this vamp found.

  It couldn’t have been just a run-of-the-mill psycho.

  Why me?

  I

  T had been an hour since they’d left the hotel.

  During that time, Sylvia hadn’t said a damn word and with every minute that passed, the silence grew more brittle.

  Toronto had the bizarre thought that she might shatter if that tension got any worse. Even though the sun was just a memory now, she remained huddled in the back, all but clinging to the doors. Hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d just decide to kick them open and take off, disappear into the night.

  When his cell phone started to belt out “Freaks Come Out At Night,” she flinched. It hurt his heart to see it.

  She was afraid. Not just pissed— that, he could handle. He didn’t like it, but he could handle it. But she was afraid and he really didn’t like that. And he hated the fact that she wouldn’t talk to him.

  As the phone continued to shriek at him, he grabbed it. “Yeah?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Nice to talk to you, too, Rafe,” he muttered, glancing out the window. “I-75 North, heading through Detroit. We’re on our way to Toronto— and no, I’m not on a brood-bender or whatever your lady calls them.”

  “What’s in Canada? You’re supposed to be bringing Pulaski in.” There was an edge to Rafe’s voice, one that Toronto couldn’t quite put his finger on yet.

  “I’m not sure. But…” He sighed, cracked his neck. “I think whoever the rich fuck running the sex games was, is a vamp. Pulaski had something to do with them, I know it. Nobody has seen hide or hair of the sorry bastard, but—”

  “We’ve confirmed that Pulaski has participated in some of the games,” Rafe said, his voice neutral. “Nobody can give me an idea where to find him. Why do you think they are in Toronto?”

  “Gut instinct.” Toronto drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and shot Sylvia a look in the mirror. “Any news on this guy, Kit?”

  “No.” Rafe paused, and then said, “I do have news, though. Pulaski is dead.”

  Toronto almost slammed on the brakes. And Sylvia was in the seat next to him, as quick as that. “What?” she demanded, her voice hard and angry.

  Toronto didn’t bother echoing that. Rafe wasn’t going to draw this out.

  “You didn’t do it, did you?”

  Toronto snarled. “Shit.” He resisted, just barely, the urge to slam his fist into the dash. He’d done that once— the car had ended up in the repair shop. Undriveable. “No, Rafe. I didn’t fucking kill him.”

  “And the merc?”

  Toronto slid Sylvia a quick look. She was staring at him, her eyes gleaming with that hint of silver, her fangs visible. “No. Sylvia didn’t do it.” He waited for Rafe to question him further, but nothing else came. “What’s going on?”

  “I got a call,” Rafe said softly. “There’s a loner up in Detroit.”

  Loners were the weres and random shifters that weren’t affiliated with anybody. Not with a pack, not with the Council— they were just that, loners. But most weres preferred to have a pack, especially if they couldn’t become a Hunter or work for the Council in some way. Loners… well, they ran alone. If they got into trouble, they had to fix the trouble. Alone.

  “What’s this got to do with us?” Toronto asked.

  “He’s a homicide detective in Detroit. Sounds like he’s living very much in the closet— I did some poking around. He coaches Little League, goes to church on Sundays, has a house with a white picket fence even. No skeletons in the closet that I can find. He goes into work today and there was a message left for him at the station. He had a present for his people in a room at the hotel at the MGM casino. Gives the room number and that’s it.”

  “His people?”

  “I’m going to assume it’s us. He gets there with his partner— a human— and what he finds is a dead vampire. Want to guess who it is?”

  “Pulaski.” Toronto wove in and out of traffic, making his way over to the exit ramp. He’d seen signs for the MGM. He needed to see this fucking bo
dy for himself. Talk to the cop. Something.

  “Yeah. How long have you suspected he was changed?”

  “Just since this morning. We left a house— it’s why we’re headed to Toronto. I smelled a vamp. I don’t know him, but I’ve had the scent before. And a new one was made there not long ago. That much weird shit happening close together, it’s all connected.” He clenched his jaw, helpless fury burning inside him. “I fucked up. He’s gone, and those families won’t find what they need. And shit, a vamp body was left where mortals could find it? What the hell?”

  Rafe was quiet for a minute. “You find that answer for me. I want to know why some son of a bitch decided to go leaving a vamp body in the open— none of us want that kind of exposure. Doesn’t matter which side of the line we walk. You get me that answer, Tor.” Then he sighed. “I put in that call for a witch— if I get somebody strong enough, she can maybe track the bodies down. We’re already working on getting Pulaski’s remains and a cleanup crew is heading in to deal with any other evidence.”

  “That’s going to be fun for the cop.”

  “No shit.”

  All too aware of Sylvia’s hard stare, Toronto took the exit. “I need to talk to him. See what he knows.”

  “You can’t do it in person— not now, at least. He’s going to have his hands full making sure he’s got his ass covered… he got yanked into this mess just because he’s a wolf. He doesn’t need to have his life ruined, and if you fuck with his job, it’s going to happen. I’ve got his number, you can call him from the road.”

  Toronto swore. Fine. Shit. It made sense, but shit.

  “Is that all?” Rafe asked. “You’re not going to have a temper tantrum about it?”

  “Oh, kiss ass,” he muttered. “I want whatever info you have on this. I’m swinging by the hotel for a few minutes, but I won’t be here long.”

  “Yeah, yeah— just behave. And leave the loner out of it. Find me the fucker who did this.”

  “H

  E’S dead.”

  Sylvia stared at Toronto as he disconnected the phone. In the glow of the lights from the dashboard, his face looked remote, far more remote than normal. And those pretty blue eyes were icy.

  “Yeah. Very dead.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know yet. But we’ll find out.” He turned left and hit the gas, speeding down the street so fast that everything around them was a blur. “A vamp. He was changed. Somebody made him a vamp.”

  Sylvia closed her eyes and passed a hand over her face. “Shit. We’d already suspected that.”

  “Yeah.” Up ahead, a light flashed to yellow. He hit the brakes.

  A hand flew up, caught her before she could go flying through the window. “Shit,” she muttered, grabbing at her seat belt. She didn’t always mess with them— a car wreck wasn’t likely to kill her. But then again, she rarely rode with somebody who drove like Toronto. His arm was a steady, iron weight across her chest and she ignored the bump of her heart at that touch. An innocent, innocuous touch… and it still made her burn.

  “You drive like a lunatic,” she muttered as she clicked her seat belt and tugged on it, just to make certain. “Who killed him?”

  Now Toronto smiled. It was a slow, mean curl of his lips and his eyes glittered in the night. “I don’t know… but it’s a good bet it was the vamp who changed him.”

  “Why?” Sylvia shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. Why make him, help him stay underground like that and then kill him? It makes no sense.”

  “Yes, it does… if he knows we’re hunting Pulaski; he wanted to throw us off the trail.” The smile on his face faded. “There’s a loner here— he found the body. Poor bastard, he’s going to have a mess in a while.”

  “I heard. What’s a cleanup crew?” She was still trying to absorb the fact that Pulaski was dead. Her job had abruptly been jerked out from under her. But the main thing— he was dead. He couldn’t hurt anybody else. Toby… justice for Toby. Those bright blue eyes danced through her mind, that sweet smile. And the parents of the boy who’d hired her. She could let them know it was done. They’d just wanted him dead. How hadn’t mattered. Dead was dead, right?

  “When a non-mortal dies and there’s a body that can be messed with, it’s a risk. Our blood is screwy; vamp, were, shifter, it doesn’t matter— we’d rather not have it on a slide in a lab. So we send a cleanup crew. They destroy the blood products, get rid of any other evidence.”

  “Any other evidence…” She slid him a look. “How do they get rid of a body?”

  “They tend to steal them.” He cut a sharp left.

  She saw it coming and braced herself. Still, the seat belt cut into her skin. Up ahead, the bright lights of the MGM Grand Detroit danced. Casinos weren’t her thing. She didn’t see the appeal of throwing away her money. It was even less appealing right now. From inside the car, she could smell the stink of death.

  Cops were all over the place.

  “How do you propose we get inside?”

  “I don’t need to get inside.” He rolled the window down as they drove around for a few minutes before settling in a lot just across from the hotel itself. “I just need to get the lay of the land.”

  S

  EAN caught the scent of the wolf even from inside the casino.

  It made the edgy, territorial bastard inside him start growling, hackles raised.

  But it didn’t have him ready to spit nails and go for blood, nor did it set every protective instinct he had on edge. Blowing out a sigh, he checked his watch.

  That was rather fast. He’d only sent the message twenty minutes ago. There was no way he could get away right now, either. If that Hunter came prowling around his scene, Sean was going to be pissed.

  Hell. I’m already pissed. Squatting down by one of the techs, he pretended to be as thrown as they were by the damage done to the body. There wasn’t much that could have surprised him, though, not once he’d caught the stink of crazed vampire.

  Rising, he made a meandering path over to the window, gave an absent glance out. Saw the other were in a lot across the street.

  Blond. Tall. Lean. Had a woman at his side… vamp. Pretty one. And it wasn’t five seconds before they both looked up and saw him in the window. He could see the way the were’s eyes narrowed. Felt the dominance rolling from him.

  Sean curled his lip at him and turned away. He had a scene to work. If the wolf was still around when he finished, Sean would talk to him. If not, wasn’t that what AT… T was for?

  D

  ESPITE the restless, futile rage rolling through her, Sylvia was amused when she caught the way the were turned his back on them. She’d felt that silent roll of power come from Toronto. If she’d been a wolf, she would have been cowering at his feet.

  “I don’t think he’s too impressed with you,” she said mildly.

  Toronto slid her a narrow look. “I wasn’t really trying. If I wanted him down here, trust me, he’d be down here.” He shrugged and started to pace, his head tipped back, nostrils flared. “The vamp was here— the one we’re tracking. I’m still thinking he did this to throw us off his trail. Has been gone a few hours— some power, because I think he left before sunset. Did the kill earlier in the day, maybe when Pulaski was sleeping.”

  Sylvia had already noticed that, but she remained silent. He was working through the scent pattern or something. That required more skill than she had.

  “He was clean when he left. No blood on him. Wasn’t angry or anything, either. Not angry, not afraid.” Toronto stopped, his eyes hooded as he stared off into the night. “This didn’t mean much of anything to him.”

  “Maybe he’s just good at control.”

  “No.” Shaking his head, he continued to stare off into the night as he picked the scent trail apart. “There’s something else…”

  “Like…?”

  “Well, he’s fucking nuts for one. I smell the madness in him— it’s like his brain is rotting inside.” Then he s
hrugged. “Other than that, I’d need to be closer to the scene. Closer to where he was. And we can’t do that with all the cops crawling around. This is enough for now.”

  Flicking one more look at the hotel, he headed back to the car. As he slipped into the seat, he grabbed his phone and sent Rafe a message. At hotel. Not much for me to see here. Heading out now. Need to talk to that cop. Will call him from the road—number?

  It wasn’t but a minute before the reply came back. Just keep it at a phone call, Tor. And remember he’s got his hands full and he’s not one of ours, not one of yours.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Toronto curled his lip and glanced up at the hotel. Wasn’t like he’d been planning to storm in there and demand the other wolf start licking his boots or anything.

  He sent a quick text. I’d like a word when you have time, cop.

  He hadn’t even pulled out of the lot before the reply came.

  If this is the blond guy or the hot brunette, it will have to wait. Other things take precedence.

  Toronto narrowed his eyes as he slowed for a red light. That little pup had better watch it around the hot brunette… she was Tor’s. You don’t want it to wait too long, cop. I just want details. You call me when you have five minutes, but you might want to do it soon.

  The next text came with a short response. Toronto snorted.

  “You look amused.” Sylvia gave him a narrow look. “I don’t see too much about this that’s amusing.”

  “That’s because you weren’t just told to go howl at the moon by a wolf you could break with one hand behind your back.” He dumped the phone on the console. Something told him he’d have a bit of a wait before he got the call he needed, but that was okay. The vamp was already on the move.

  “Where to?”

  He shot Sylvia a look as he hit the gas and shot up the ramp to the expressway. “Back on the road. We’ll be in Toronto before dawn.”

  “But…” She glanced back toward Detroit. “We need to find out more about what happened to Pulaski.”

  “No, we don’t,” Toronto said quietly. “Other people have this. We need to find his killer, figure out why in the hell he did this publicly, make sure he won’t do it again. Or at least that’s what I have to do. I can’t make you come with me.”