The Alien Huntress Series

by Gena Showalter

  Dallas Gutierrez clutched a garbage bag as he pushed through the mess in his living room, bending down and picking up trash. Cleaning. Ugh. It was something he hadn’t done in months. After his near-death experience, he’d just stopped caring about the state of his domicile. Why waste precious time doing something he hated? But Devyn liked clean and neat, and Devyn would arrive any moment. He knew it, sensed it.

  They hadn’t talked since yesterday morning, when Dallas had taken Macy and Breean to a motel to “search” for Bride. They’d even made plans to meet for coffee at eight a.m. today, a few hours away. But Devyn was on his way even now. Lately, Dallas knew all kinds of trivial things. They seeped into his head, not visions but whispers of coming truths.

  He hated it. He didn’t want to know things before they happened. Little or big. Last few months, a lot of his friends had stopped calling, stopped hanging out with him. They were afraid of him and what he could now do. Predict the future. Move at speeds the human eye couldn’t see. Compel people to obey him with only a single voiced command.

  The speed, he actually enjoyed. He’d secretly used it on the job once or twice and was a better agent because of it. Only problem was, he couldn’t have one ability without the others. Okay, two problems. His control of each ability was sketchy. Maybe because he fought them so fervently. But he couldn’t help himself. When he welcomed his visions with open arms, he saw loved ones die. When he forced people to do things they didn’t want to do, the guilt ate at him for days. Therefore, he tried not to use either.

  Finally, though, he’d caved and tried to force Nolan to stay in that alley, unmoving, compliant, because, unlike Devyn’s, Dallas’s ability wasn’t a manipulation of energy but an exertion of will. And look what that had gotten him. Failure. That particular power had remained dormant, Nolan had continued to move, and Dallas had had a vision of himself, as he was now, in bed with a woman he hadn’t seen in months. How?

  Kyrin had offered to teach and train him, but Dallas couldn’t bring himself to agree. The more time he spent with the Arcadian, the more he was reminded that his will was not his own. That he was really just a slave to another.

  What am I going to do? He needed to decide, one way or another: welcome all of his abilities completely or suppress them, which Kyrin had said he could do if he ignored all three abilities long enough. Either way, he needed to decide now.

  For the past few hours, another vision had been knocking on his brain, demanding entrance. He’d been fighting it, but fighting brought crack-your-skull-against-the-wall headaches. So…embrace all? Or suppress?

  Knowing the future brought both triumph and failure. Last time he’d almost killed his friend Jaxon trying to prevent a vision from coming true. But if he knew what was going to happen, he could possibly save a life one day.

  Damn it. There were good arguments for both decisions.

  He needed to do something. Well, you can’t call an old girlfriend to come over and distract you. Because of what he’d seen in that alley, he’d already done that.

  After griping him out for not calling in forever, she’d come over and they’d played naughty-AIR-agent-and-dirty-otherworlder. He’d acted like the dirty otherworlder, and she’d had no idea how perfectly the role fit him now. Every day he lost a little more of his humanity.

  Now she was asleep in his bedroom. He should have sent her home after the sex, but he hadn’t wanted to be alone. How pathetic.

  As he continued to clean, Dallas began sweating, panting, unable to catch his breath. His ribs soon felt as if they were comprised of glass and were cutting into his chest cavity. His temples ached unbearably. Just suck it up. He swiped up an empty sandwich wrapper, an image of—no. No! He shoved the image away with a mental hand, not booting it out of his brain but keeping it locked inside a box. He hadn’t made a decision yet.

  The action caused a sharp, agonizing pain to tear through him, and he dropped to his knees. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching so tightly that the joints threatened to snap out of place. Nausea rolled through his stomach. Just suppress already. Knowing the future changes the future, and not always for the better.

  What if someone I love is about to be hurt?

  He lumbered to his feet as the vision tried to claw its way free. He shook his head violently, and still another pain slashed through him, doubling him over. A moan slipped from him. Too much. It was too much. If he kept fighting, undecided, he was going to have an aneurism.

  Not knowing what else to do, Dallas peeked through a crack in that box. The pain eased slightly. There were two visions, he realized, each vying for entrance. One, he’d ignored for hours. The other was brand-new. No wonder the knocking had intensified.

  Don’t do it. Don’t let them in. Ignorance is bliss, and you won’t be able to mess with the future.

  It’s better to know. And this way, you can keep your superspeed.

  The two desires warred inside him until he was shaking, almost foaming at the mouth. Every nerve ending in his body was sharpening, desperate to cut through him and escape the pain.

  Don’t do it. You almost killed Jaxon, remember?

  Do it, do it, do it. You’re wiser now. You won’t hurt anyone. How many times do you have to be reminded that you could save more lives—

  With a roar, he wrenched open the box. The first vision flew into his mind, colors taking shape, images forming. There was Devyn, standing in an abandoned alleyway, soaked in blood. It dripped from him—draining his life? In front of him was the vampire, Bride. She, too, was covered in blood. There were smudges around her mouth, as if she’d recently fed and had tried to wipe herself clean.

  If that bitch had drank from Devyn…Dallas’s hands fisted. But guilt joined ranks with his anger, and he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to tamp down both emotions. If I’d allowed the vision inside earlier, would I have been able to stop this? Was Devyn now hurt? Dead? They’d known there was a chance Bride would erupt when she learned that Devyn had “captured” Macy, aka Aleaha, but neither of them had taken it seriously. Devyn could lock the woman in place. Besides that, females simply didn’t attack Devyn. Not with malicious intentions, anyway.

  Maybe Bride had learned how to defend herself against Devyn’s ability, as Nolan had done. In fact, Nolan could have told her what to do. Snarling, Dallas punched the wall, leaving a hole.

  Devyn’s alive. He’s on his way here. You know that. The panic gradually receded, and Dallas watched inside his mind as Devyn reached out and tucked a lock of Bride’s dark hair behind her ear. An action of affection. Bride nibbled on her bottom lip, her fangs sharp, and peered down at the ground, shy but intrigued. Dallas relaxed a little more. Whatever had happened between the pair had been consensual and perhaps nonviolent, despite the blood. But damn, he was going to have to talk to his friend about his bed partners.

  Bride turned on her heel and marched away, disappearing into the shadows. Devyn was smiling that wicked, satisfied smile of his.

  Not such a bad vision, after all, Dallas thought, shoulders slouching in relief. That image faded, making way for the second. Once again colors began to take shape. Moments later, the pier came into view. A metal bridge that stretched over what little water remained, inching its way to shore.

  There was Devyn, a knife in his heart, his body prone, motionless, his eyes closed, blood all around him. Bride stood off to the side, a group of men flanking her. They were holding her in place as she cried and screamed and fought for freedom.

  Every muscle in Dallas’s body tightened. Devyn planned to tell Bride to meet him at the pier, but he didn’t plan to actually go. Had his friend changed his mind?

  Dallas shifted his attention, scanning the entire area. There was no sign of himself, Breean, or Macy. He then focused on the men holding Bride, memorizing their features, their clothing.

  “—on, my man.” A warm hand patted his cheek. “Wake up for me. Your visions have never taken this long before. What’s going on? You know I hate mysteries.”

>   Everything winked out of focus, and Dallas almost roared. He clawed at his mind, at the dark box, desperate to learn everything he could, but nothing reappeared in the first and the second was now empty.

  Okay. Fine. Dallas would write down everything he remembered about the vision, and he would reason it out, share the details with the players involved, and then do whatever was necessary to stop it from happening. He wouldn’t make the same mistake as last time. He wouldn’t assume he knew what had brought about the events or who had caused Devyn’s…death.

  No. No! Devyn would not die. There was no longer any question about whether to embrace or suppress. Dallas would embrace and ensure his friend lived.

  “Wake up for your sweet Devyn.” Another pat, this one harder. “That’s a good boy.”

  Slowly Dallas blinked open his eyes. He was still panting, still sweating, but was no longer in pain. Devyn loomed over him, concern darkening his usually bright eyes. Just as Dallas had seen him in his first vision, Devyn was covered in blood. It stained his skin, his clothes.

  “Okay?” he managed to work past his spasming throat.

  “Me?” The otherworlder looked surprised by the question. “Why—oh. The blood. No worries. It’s not mine.”

  Thank God. “Vampire decide…to eat…in front…of you?”

  “Nothing like that. I’ll explain in a bit. You want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

  Not yet. “How’d you…get in?”

  “I peeked over your shoulder last time you disabled your alarm. Memorized your code.”

  Smiling despite the pain, Dallas rubbed his temples. “You are such a good friend.”

  “I know.” Devyn helped him to a sitting position and remained crouched in front of him. “I hope you don’t mind, but I sent your woman on her way. She was shaking you, screaming for you to wake up, and pissing off your neighbors.”

  Dallas propped his elbows on his knees, hating the way he trembled. “Not safe for her to walk the streets alone.”

  “That’s why I called her a cab. And be prepared. If you see her again, you’re going to get an earful. First she passed out when she saw me, then she woke up and threatened to call the police. I told her if she was going to hang around you, she’d have to get used to seeing me because fainting at the sight of my beauty was going to piss you off, and I’d rather cut out her eyes than piss you off.”

  “And that didn’t go over well? Women. I’m sure the coat of blood you’re wearing had nothing to do with her reaction to you.”

  Devyn searched his face. “Your color is returning. Good. You’re going to be fine.”

  “I’m the psychic, but yeah, you’re right.”

  “I’m going to shower. Make us a pot of coffee—real, not artificial, if you’ve got any of the stuff I bought you left over—and we’ll talk when I’m done.” He didn’t wait for Dallas’s response but stood and strode toward the back of the apartment.

  Dallas, too, stood but he stumbled his way into the kitchen. He had just enough beans for a full pot. As he prepared it, he anchored his phone to his ear and dialed Mia.

  She answered on the second ring. “Dal, you shit, this better be good. It’s my night off.”

  “Yeah, it is. Good, I mean. I need a sketch artist as soon as possible.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll share the details the moment I understand them.”

  “Uh, you tell me or you don’t get a damn thing.”

  Jack, their former boss, would have agreed with Dallas right away. Female bosses sucked. “Think of this as an early birthday present, then. It’s all I want.”

  A sigh crackled over the line. “Bastard. Your place or the station?”

  Okay. Maybe female bosses weren’t so bad. Jack would have told him to fuck himself for his present. “My place.”

  “Two hours?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Fuck you, I’m going back to sleep. Call me when you’re ready to talk, and that better be no later than forty-eight hours, or I swear to God I’ll kick your ass into next week just like Jack always threatened.” Click.

  Dallas was grinning as he slid his cell over the counter, the scent of caffeine thickening the air, frivolous and decadent. He gathered two cups, the last remaining scoop of real sugar, and a can of dried milk. Devyn liked his caffeine sweet, but refused to drink anything with synthetics. Dallas would have called him a girl, but Devyn would have viewed that as a compliment.

  The smell of dry enzyme soap drifted to him, alerting him to Devyn’s arrival. He turned. And sure enough, there was his friend, bent over and resting his elbows on the counter. The blood was gone, his hair perfectly combed. He wore Dallas’s favorite “Size Dental Appliances Here” with an arrow pointing down T-shirt and a pair of his jeans.

  “You gave me that shirt as a gift. Taking it back?”

  “I’ll return it. It’s just the only thing you own that’s made from real cotton. My skin deserves the best.”

  “You’re such a snob.”

  “I’d say I’m smart for treating myself with luxuries, but whatever. Now, tell me what the hell was going on with you when I walked in.”

  The coffee machine beeped, and Dallas filled the two mugs. He dropped a spoon in Devyn’s so that the otherworlder could stir his own shit and handed it to him. “I had a vision and was trying to sort through it. Must have gone a little too deep into my brain.”

  “I guessed that. What I want to know is what you saw. And why have Mia send a sketch artist over?”

  “You have ears like Mishka, man.” The girl could hear a feather land on a mattress from two miles away.

  Devyn shrugged. “Start talking.”

  Dallas leaned back against the counter and sipped at the hot java for strength. First, he told his friend about the blood.

  “That’s nothing,” Devyn said. “I killed a human.”

  Dallas blinked at him, at the casual way he admitted to murder. “Wait. I couldn’t possibly have heard you right. Did you just say you killed a human?”

  “Yeah. He was a slaver. Tried to abduct Bride to sell her on the black market.”

  “And you killed him? Dude, you’ve bought women on the black market.”

  Again Devyn shrugged, but there was something in his eyes. Something Dallas had never seen before and couldn’t place. “There are others out there who know about her, but no matter how much I tortured him, he wouldn’t give me their names. Probably because he knew he was going to die either way. Either that, or there weren’t actually any others. Only time will tell.”

  There wasn’t an ounce of remorse in his friend’s tone. No one could kill as ruthlessly or as uncaringly as Devyn. The man saw each of his actions as a necessary duty and never looked back, never regretted. Maybe that was why they got along so well. Dallas had enough regrets for both of them.

  “Mia know?”

  “Not yet, but she will. I left the guy’s head on Main.”

  Dallas’s eyes widened. Devyn had made the announcement while lifting and studying one of Dallas’s small black computer maps. “Tell me. Do you polish your titanium balls every night before bed, or do you just hang them in your trophy case?”

  “Polish,” Devyn said deadpan, tossing the map aside.

  “Damn. Mia’s gonna go ballistic. You know that, don’t you?”

  Still the otherworlder remained unconcerned. “I’ll handle her.”

  “Not without me.” No way was Dallas going to let Devyn go down for this. Because Devyn was an otherworlder, he didn’t have the same rights as Dallas. If necessary, he’d take total blame. Most they’d do to him was slap his wrists. They could send Devyn away, kick him out of AIR, or even execute him. “Anyone see you?”

  “Probably.”

  What would it take to actually ruffle Devyn’s feathers? Something catastrophic, surely. “So why the hell’d you leave his head outside for anyone to find?”

  “It was a message.”

  He arched a brow. “And that would be that
Devyn of the Targons is a psycho?”

  Devyn laughed. “No. Mess with Bride and suffer.”

  Now Dallas’s brow furrowed in question. “You into her or something? I mean, really into her?” Devyn loved and left his women like they were no more important than a fast-food meal. To him, they weren’t.

  Devyn’s gaze sharpened, a play of emotions flashing through those amber depths. Readable emotions. Lust, tenderness, anger, disbelief. “For now. She’ll lose her appeal soon enough.”

  Oh, oh, oh. What was this? Finally, a reaction. And over a woman. Inconceivable. Odd as it was, though, it wouldn’t last; it couldn’t. Still. This just wasn’t Devyn’s style.

  A frightening thought suddenly occurred to Dallas. When Bride lost her appeal and Devyn dropped her—Devyn always dropped the women, they never dropped him—would she wallow in fury? Entertain thoughts of revenge? Would she pay someone to hurt him? Stab him at the pier?

  He drained the rest of his coffee. “Well, like I was saying about the visions…I had two. And the second one involved you, the female, and a knife through your heart.”

  CHAPTER 10

  As the first rays of sunlight glowed from the sky, Bride entered her apartment, quietly closed the door, and pressed the lock pad, engaging the ID scan on the outside. She rested her forehead against the cool metal, her eyes closed, breathing deeply, in and out, in and out. Her stomach was twisted with renewed hunger, her mouth dry. She was shaky, tired.

  In the background, the TV hummed softly. The air was as clean and sterile as always, the purifiers she used running at top speed. The only scent she detected was…apples?

  Her brow wrinkled, and she drew in another breath, holding it while she studied the aroma. Sure enough. Apples. She hadn’t smelled them in more than sixty or so years, but she’d never forgotten their sweetness.

  Once, she’d been casing a neighborhood, trying to decide which house to rob. The war had not yet erupted, and the world had been a different place. Trees had been lush, real fruit available for purchase on every street corner. And cheap, God, had they been cheap. The pennies she’d stolen from her foster parents had been enough to buy all the apples she’d wanted. Not to eat but to smell. She’d even dabbed the juice on herself, her own version of perfume.