Hunter's Rise

by Shiloh Walker

  She could remember the strange expression on Toronto’s face the few times he’d made any reference to his past. It bothered him, that emptiness. She knew it.

  Turning back to him, she saw that he was still watching, still waiting.

  “He what?” Toronto asked, his voice deceptively soft. “He wasn’t a fucking monster? Is that what you want to tell me?

  “No.” Shaking her head, she held his gaze. “I get that.”

  Like she hadn’t even spoken, Toronto said, “He was involved in the shit going on back in Memphis. Involved up to his neck.”

  “I understand.” Swallowing, she shifted her gaze down to the ruin of a body on the floor and tried to think. “He was twisted. And he was sick— I don’t know how anybody could survive under Harold and still be sane.”

  “You managed,” Toronto said, his voice hardly more than a growl. “And don’t tell me that you’re a monster— if you can’t see the difference between you and him, you’re a fucking idiot. You don’t strike me as an idiot, Sylvia— Sada. Shit, I don’t even know what to call you.”

  “My name is Sylvia.” She took a deep breath and focused on his face. “It’s the name I chose for myself— Sada did die. I’m no longer who she was.”

  Still watching her closely, Toronto nodded. “I get that he had a rough time of it after he was changed. But so did you, and you didn’t let it make you into a monster. A lot of us go through hell and come through it sane. Sometimes we do it on our own. Sometimes we have help. But he gave into the madness. Any shred of humanity he might have had, he gave it up long ago. And he fucking exposed us to mortals. We can’t have that. He was dangerous in too many ways and you know it.”

  “I get it.” Shit. She needed to think— had to think. Closing her eyes, she said, “It’s not that. It’s…”

  “It’s what, damn it?”

  The temper she heard in his voice sparked her own and she lowered her hands, glaring at him. “He knew you!” She stared at him. “Damn it, the only time I’ve seen anything really seem to get to you was when you spoke about your past— he had the answers, he could have helped you piece together some of that past and you just killed him.”

  Toronto shook his head. “I’ve got a past, Sylvia. I’ve spent the past century making one. It just took me a damn long time to figure out that century is the part of my history that matters. That… and the future I make for myself. He didn’t have any answers I needed to hear.”

  And then he stooped down, grabbed the head, lifted it up and stared into wide, dead eyes. “He was sick. You could smell it on him. He was sick and he was crazy. You said you wanted to show him a kindness for the one he tried to show you. The truest kindness you could show him was to end his life before he caused any more pain.”

  CHAPTER 24

  N

  ASTY, nasty business…

  Kelsey sat in the back of the classroom, wearing a glamour— something she hated. It made her skin itch, made her eyes itch and if she messed with it for too long, the minor-level spell casting would fall apart.

  Glamours were a very basic magic and most witches could cast them. The problem was they were easy to sense, unless the one casting them was a high-level witch.

  Kelsey was.

  But even a good glamour could fall apart if she didn’t leave it alone— they were also a lot like high heels. A witch got used to them. Like the woman teaching the classroom. Kelsey suspected she’d been using that glamour for so long, it was like a second skin— it all but became a part of her.

  Kelsey wondered how long the woman had been wearing it. It was good— damn good. If Angel hadn’t mentioned that there was a teacher who’d made her eyes itch, Kelsey didn’t know that she would have thought to look for glamours so soon… and it had taken a long, careful look at this woman to realize there was something not quite right with that smooth, polished look. She looked like a friendly, easygoing high school teacher. She looked pretty, and perfect… and she was so fucking foul, she made Kelsey’s teeth hurt.

  The glamour was good. It hid all of that. No wonder Rafe hadn’t detected this. She’d been doing it a long, long time.

  Angel was something the witch couldn’t have planned on, though. Psychics had a way of screwing things up for non-mortals. They looked human, smelled human, acted human. They didn’t give off the predatory vibe that vamps or weres did. They didn’t crackle with magic like a witch did. They were, plain and simple, human. And although Angel was a bit more than human now, mortals with altered blood were a rare enough occurrence that unless the witch had ever actually come across it, she wasn’t likely to realize anything was off about Angel. Especially if Angel behaved herself.

  And Angel must have done just that, because this woman didn’t seem to have any clue what was going down.

  Kelsey smiled, happy to let it stay that way.

  She wasn’t here just for the witch, after all.

  There were other people involved… and she wanted all of them.

  I

  T was a pain in the butt to wear a glamour. Less of a pain to simply look… not there.

  As the students moved in a wave out of the classroom, she manipulated the glamour she wore so that it looked like she was doing the same thing. The witch barely even noticed.

  That was because she was… occupied.

  Very occupied.

  Kelsey had spent much of the afternoon using other high-level magics, thread by careful thread. They were passive spells, nothing aimed directly at the witch. It was just a shroud of worry.

  She wanted the woman to worry. She wanted all of them to worry.

  Fun things happened when people started to worry… a lot of them didn’t do it well on their own.

  Minutes ticked away on the clock.

  Kelsey counted twenty-two before the door opened for the first time. The man who came inside was mortal. It opened again four minutes later. That man wasn’t.

  All in all, when it was done, seven people were gathered in the witch’s classroom. Three weren’t human. The others were. The humans, Kelsey would leave to the cops, if they could. There would be evidence somewhere; there always was.

  But the others… they would answer to Rafe. He had to take control of this, and do it fast.

  Knowing the temper he had, she suspected he’d do it in a glorious, bloody fashion.

  R

  AFE didn’t sleep much.

  He didn’t need to. But he still avoided going outside before five or so, unless it was a dire emergency.

  Or unless there were ferals who had been playing vicious little sex games right under his nose.

  As he read the text from Kelsey, he realized he was going to have to make one of those early trips. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he called out, “Lindsey!”

  She’d wanted a pizza party if she helped with Pulaski. Pulaski was dead, dealt with and hopefully rotting in some special level of hell for pedophiles. Maybe this would make up for not being able to help peel the skin off his hide.

  As Lindsey appeared in front of him, her spiky black hair disheveled, wearing a T-shirt that read Team Dracula on it, he lifted a brow. “Want to go talk to a couple of sexual deviants?”

  “What sort of talk?” She pursed her lips as she studied his face.

  “The kind that ends with them bleeding on the floor and wondering why in the hell they decided to fuck around in our territory.”

  “Oooohhh… those sexual deviants.” She smiled, and the grin had a decidedly mean slant to it. “Yes, Rafe. I would love to go with you.”

  “Cool. I might even buy you a pizza when we’re done.”

  * * *

  T

  ORONTO wasn’t in the cabin when she woke. By the time they’d finished at the house, it had been less than an hour before dawn and she hadn’t had much choice but to get ready to settle down for the day.

  She’d hoped they could talk when she woke— they sure as hell hadn’t said much during the night.

  But he wasn’t
here. She was alone.

  Sitting up in the bed, Sylvia stared around the cabin.

  Her heart was an empty ache in her chest and the only thing she could think was… he’s not here. Had he left? Already? The thought of it was enough to almost have her doubled over.

  Then she looked around and saw his belongings piled neatly by the door. Shit.

  Okay.

  He hadn’t left.

  So…

  “So what?” she whispered. Rising out of the bed, she went to stand by the door, touching her fingers to the long black coat. He’d be back, for long enough to say good-bye? Was that it?

  They’d done what they’d set out to do.

  Was there anything left? Any reason to stay?

  Swallowing the knot in her throat, she turned around and studied the small cabin.

  She guessed the answer was no.

  He’d be back. But she’d be gone.

  She’d let herself get too close to him. That was where she’d made the mistake.

  The only way to fix it was to nip it right in the bud… starting now.

  T

  HE moon was rising up as Toronto returned to the cabin.

  He wasn’t surprised to find it empty.

  If there was an ache in his chest, he pretended not to notice.

  He’d known this was coming. From the time she’d started to pull away from him, he’d known. Better this way, he figured. If he’d had her around for much longer, it would have hurt even more when she walked.

  Moving into the cabin, he walked around, checking each room, although he didn’t know why. She wasn’t there.

  But as he lingered in each room, he found himself thinking back… and remembering. You’ll have to learn to control that…

  Control was something he hadn’t used enough, he knew. Control. Discipline. Everything Nessa had pounded into him. Things he’d let go to waste.

  I told you he wasn’t going to pull through. I’ll put him down—

  Back then, it probably would have been the wisest thing. Hell, plenty of people probably still thought it would have been the best thing they could have done. Just ended him.

  “My own fault,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

  You’ll do well enough…

  Nessa, though, she’d always had faith in him.

  Shit. Maybe if he’d lived up to half of what she’d expected of him, he could have done better here. Maybe Sylvia wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to leave. Maybe…

  “Shit. Fuck maybe.”

  One thing was certain, though. He had to stop this. He’d spent a century trying to find some piece to the puzzle of his past, and now he had a few… and it didn’t matter.

  It didn’t change who he was.

  Toronto was who he’d made himself. And now it was up to him do a better job of it.

  Turning his back on the bedroom, he strode to the door. His junk was there, waiting for him. He grabbed it and left without another look back.

  It took him forty minutes to get out of the city, and this time, he knew he wouldn’t be coming back. He was done chasing ghosts.

  * * *

  S

  YLVIA had been prepared to bribe whoever necessary to get the pictures of Alan Pulaski’s dead body.

  Something to show the parents.

  That was the first thing to figure out. Then she’d move. She should figure out how to get her bike back, but…

  She rounded the bend to her house and saw moonlight glinting off chrome. Her bike.

  If her heart could do it, it would have leaped right into her throat. Slamming on the brakes, she closed her eyes and turned off the car, listening. Is he here…

  And almost immediately, the crack in her heart widened.

  No.

  She was alone.

  Gripping the steering wheel of the rental, she sat there and stared at the bike. She stared at it a good three minutes before she realized there was something on it.

  Frowning, she climbed out of the car, pocketed the keys. It was an envelope. Automatically, she checked the air— she hadn’t had too many attempts on her life after a job, but it did happen. No sign of explosives, though. Nothing that felt off.

  Lifting it up, she held it to the sky and saw the faint outline of paper.

  She should take it inside, check it out more thoroughly. But she just didn’t care enough. Flipping it over, she used a knife to slice it open and reached inside.

  Pulaski.

  The photo was only of his face.

  He looked peaceful. He didn’t deserve to look that peaceful, that easy, Sylvia knew. But he did look very, very dead.

  For a long while, she stood there, holding the picture. This was the last thing she needed to do before she could close the door on Sylvia James and move on to whoever she was going to be for the next few decades— finalize the job. Let Toby’s parents know their son’s killer was dead.

  For some reason, the idea didn’t hold as much appeal as it should.

  * * *

  “C

  RAZY.” Rafe turned his head to look at Dominic only to have Kelsey poke him in the shoulder.

  “Be still,” she ordered, bent over the ugly wound in his side. She’d had to cut him back open.

  Toronto started as the witch used a pair of forceps on the Master and stared working on pulling out the glass.

  “Who shoved silver in you?”

  A thin smile slanted Rafe’s lips. “We rounded up the people responsible for the sex ring. We’ve got what’s left of them locked up down in the isolation chambers. One of them is a witch— mean bitch. She managed to get this in me.”

  Kelsey grimaced. “She busted the glass while she was at it. I’ll be digging glass out of you for the next hour, pal. Not my favorite pastime.”

  “Sorry.” Rafe shrugged.

  She jabbed him again. “I said be still.”

  He heaved out a sigh and looked back at Toronto. “So the bastard is crazy. I get that— figured that much out after he left a body where it would be found by mortals. You want me to buy that the only reason he did was because he was crazy?”

  Toronto shrugged, moving to stare out the window at the half moon. “It’s not as much of an answer as you needed, I know. You could all but smell the rot on him, though. I think it had been coming for a while. And if he got a heavy dose of whatever chemical crap Josiah was telling me about and it started eating what was left of his brain?”

  “What else did you expect to hear?” Lindsey asked from the floor, busily munching away on pizza. She had a glorious black eye. Considering the fact that Toronto could still see it, he had to wonder how bad the damage had been earlier. “He went and changed a kiddie killer. That right there is a ringing endorsement of sanity, right?”

  “I guess.” Rafe didn’t look at her, though.

  Toronto could feel the vampire’s gaze, boring into the back of his head. He wasn’t overly surprised when Rafe abruptly said, “Can you all leave me and Toronto alone, please?”

  Kelsey glared at him. “I’m in the middle of something rather delicate.”

  “It can wait ten minutes, right?”

  Kelsey stared at him balefully for a long moment before she gathered up her supplies. “The only reason I’m leaving for five minutes is because I know you won’t sit still if I don’t do it. But that’s all you’ve got.”

  Toronto waited in silence until the door shut behind Kelsey and he listened as the footsteps died away.

  Although he was completely aware of Rafe’s heavy stare, Toronto stood where he was, at the window. Watching the moon. It wasn’t full, wasn’t even close. He didn’t have that heavy, burning urge to shift. Right now, the moon was… peaceful. It was peaceful to look at, and he sure as hell needed some peace.

  “If you want me to head out, I can be gone within an hour,” he said quietly, crossing his arms.

  “Shit.” Rafe was closer now.

  Turning his head, he saw the vampire standing just over his
shoulder, dark eyes flat, mouth unsmiling. With a short nod, he said, “I’m out of here, then.”

  “That wasn’t a request.” Rafe shoved a hand through his hair. “You did good. It wasn’t exactly how I wanted to see it end— I wanted Pulaski here so I could torture him for a good, long while. But if he was a vampire… that was an unexpected complication. He was better off dead sooner, rather than later. We’ll have to work on finding the answers for the families of his victims, but we can probably still accomplish that— I’ll have Kelsey look into it. She’s here anyway.”

  A weighted silence fell. He’d done good— what the hell, maybe after so many years of fucking up, he ought to feel pleased with that. But he just… wasn’t.

  Nothing felt settled for him.

  He wasn’t settled.

  “I don’t know if I can stay here any longer, Rafe.” Lifting a hand, he laid it on the window, staring up at the moon. “I just don’t belong here. Never did.”

  Rafe blew out a heavy breath. “I can understand that… there comes a time when bastards like us just can’t take serving, right?”

  “It’s not that.” Toronto shook his head. “I’m not leader material— never will be. But I don’t fit here.”

  “Don’t fit?”

  Turning his head, Toronto shrugged. “I’m a mean-assed square peg who’s forced himself into a round hole, and I’ve made the lot of you miserable while you all put up with me. You deserved better. They deserved better. It’s time I move on, I think.”

  “Where to?”

  “Beats the hell out of me.” Shifting his gaze back to the window, he focused once more on the moon. “I need to find something to do with myself that isn’t a fucking waste, though. Find some way to not be a waste.”

  “You’re not a waste, Tor.” Rafe shoved him lightly. “The merc… Sylvia. Is she any part of this?”