by Jess Haines
I shook my head and pointed. Bo squinted at the shadows, then walked over to the body. Patrick and Jason soon joined him, giving low whistles.
“Did a number on that poor bastard,” Jason said. Though I was expecting disgust or horror, his tone was completely matter-of-fact. “Better get the water, bleach, and a tarp.”
“Got it.” Jack walked past me with some folded-up cloth and rope under one arm, and a couple jugs in the other hand.
I watched, mute and dull with shock, as Patrick and Jason rapidly rolled Vic’s body into the tarp and tied it shut, and then carried it to the back of the van. Bo leaned down to pick up the gun I’d dropped, handing it back to me. He didn’t say anything about the way my hand shook when I took it from him. He then proceeded to take one of the jugs from Jack, and the two of them tore the seals off and used the water to rinse away some of the blood and bits of bone and brain matter from the cement. They followed up with some bleach, I guess to keep anybody from finding any DNA evidence to connect us to the scene.
My stomach did a queasy flip at this, watching as they did a quick, practiced job of clearing away at a casual glance any signs of the murder I’d just committed. Jack finished off the job by pulling a Swiss army knife from his back pocket and using the pliers to pry the bullet out of the concrete. Bo urged me to follow him back into the van.
Nikki was in the passenger seat. Adam was slumped in the back. Both were looking the worse for wear, but neither surprised nor impressed with the body. Or me, for that matter. Everyone else was quiet as we sat down on the benches opposite Keith’s equipment, squished together, as Jack pulled out and headed for home. For my part, I could only sit and watch in a numb haze, occasionally picking at the flakes of dried blood on my hands.
I’d just killed a man. It hadn’t been out of self defense. It hadn’t even been because he was a real threat to me. The belt was controlling me more than I’d ever guessed. Even if it had forced me to move, I’d knowingly put it on and let it take me over. Known that it wanted to do more than hurt. That it was made to hunt and kill.
Who had Vic Thomasian really been? Did he have a wife I’d just widowed? Kids? Parents still alive? Someone waiting at home, someone who cared about him, wondering where he was?
That man was dead tonight, and it was all my fault.
With the plastic-covered lump at my feet, I could think of nothing else as we drove in silence back to City Island.
Chapter 7
(Days left to full moon: 18)
Unlike the others in the van, I couldn’t find it in me to catnap on the way back. The belt, usually busy making cracks and bothering me all night with observations or requests, had gone silent. The only sound breaking the hiss of tires on asphalt and Jason’s snoring was the occasional wet cough from Jack. My elbows rested on my knees, and I bent over to stare down at the tarp-covered lump at my feet. There was a touch of dark, rusty red spattered on the outside of the treated blue fabric that kept drawing my eye again and again.
The time on the dash read 1:42 AM. I had eighteen days left until the full moon, and the only hope I’d had of finding Chaz had been dashed along with Vic’s brains in the shadows of that stinking alley back in Jersey.
And I’d just made myself even more of a monster than I might already be turning into.
If I didn’t need the belt so badly, the minute the sun rose, I would have burned the damned thing.
Bo had put his arm around me at some point. I hadn’t noticed until his fingers tightened on my shoulder, squeezing to get my attention. I pushed a few red curls out of my eyes and tilted my head to peer up at him, noting his somber expression.
“It’s your first time killing one, isn’t it?”
I frowned before resuming staring down at the body, avoiding the concern in his gaze.
“You don’t have to beat yourself up over it. The first time is always rough.”
That prompted a surprised, bitter laugh out of me. I kept my voice low, acutely aware of Jack’s sudden scrutiny through the rearview. “Are you kidding? Is that supposed to make me feel better? This guy is dead, Bo, and I did it. Me. What did he do to deserve it, other than be different from us?”
Bo’s brows knitted, and he hunkered down over his knees, answering me as quietly as I had him. “Do you really think he was innocent? He was a Sunstriker, Shia. He must have known what he was signing on for.”
I thought about Scott, the Were who had accidentally become infected in a bar fight and been taken in by the Sunstrikers because no one else would have him. Though I hadn’t met him, I’d heard his story when I went up to the Catskills with the rest of the pack—less than a month ago, back when I’d been scratched by the talons of a shifted werewolf. Like me, Scott hadn’t asked for the infection, and I was certain he hadn’t signed on with the Sunstrikers knowing what they were really up to. Would he be press-ganged into the fight against me? Was he one of the Weres working to kill me?
‘Being a victim doesn’t make him innocent.’
A low sound escaped my throat, helpless anger rising at the belt’s attitude and my own inability to decide upon a direction for my moral compass. And what if I didn’t turn into a monster? What if Arnold found a cure? He’d promised he would try. Maybe there was still some hope for me to remain human, even if I was damned for my actions.
‘The mage can’t help you. There is no such spell.’
That made me flinch.
‘You were consumed with thoughts of murder when you left the vampire’s building. You’re suppressing them, but they re still there, hiding in the darkest parts of your mind. You’re committed to this, aren’t you? Stopping the moon-chasers. They hurt you, and they killed that reported Or have you forgotten?’
I shook my head and looked at Bo, torn between rage and anguish. “What if Vic was like me? What if he’d been infected by accident, and was just trying to get by? I’ll never know for sure, and now I don’t even know what we’re going to do with his body. What if he has kids, or a family somewhere? They wouldn’t want to see him like this.”
“They won’t,” Jack said, jerking my attention to the front of the van. Bo sat back as I did, withdrawing his arm. Somehow the loss of his touch made Jack’s words colder, harder to bear. “We’ll be taking him out on the boat and dropping him somewhere offshore. Someone will report him missing, eventually. We took care of the security feeds and cleaned up signs of the fight from the parking lot at The Tease. They’ll find his car, and someone might remember he walked out with some blonde, but there’s very little chance it will ever be connected to the White Hats. Or to you, Shiarra. ”
Though there had been a bit of worry about that in the back of my mind, I hadn’t been concerned about being caught so much as I was about the moral implications of my actions. If Vic had left behind a family, I’d find a way to make it up to them. Somehow.
‘I don’t understand you.’
I don’t get you either, I thought back to the belt as I closed my eyes. You’re on my shit list right now, buddy.
It had the gall to laugh at me. ‘Is that so?’
The rising fury burning in my breast was answer enough.
‘Let me tell you a little story, hunter. Haven’t you ever wondered who I was before I became this hunk of leather and metal?’
My lip curled in response.
‘This isn’t about you, much as you’d like to think you’re such a special snowflake and that it’s all your fault so you can wallow in guilt for the rest of the night. You’re swerving a greater purpose by letting me help you rid the world of these things. I used to be a mage. I lived on the outskirts of Andover. My coven was small, and most of the members were family. We served the local villages as blacksmiths, tanners, and fur-trappers, mostly.
‘Some vampire had already established himself in Boston, but we had little contact with him. We kept to ourselves until he drove a pack of Weres out of Cambridge and into our area. I’m not sure you understand just how much Weres hate magi. They slaught
ered most of my family. The few of us who escaped went to petition Max Carlyle—’
That nearly jerked me to my feet. The belt must have been expecting it, because I only managed a slight twitch and a faint sound in my throat before my muscles went rigid against my will.
‘Don’t act so surprised,’ the belt admonished.
I should throw you into the fireplace when I get back to the White Hat hideout, I thought as hard as I could at it. What connection do you have to Max? Why would you want to have anything to do with him?
‘Enough with the dramatics. You’ve met him. You know what he’s like and what he’s capable of. It was custom in those days, and most likely still is today, to petition to the most powerful Other in your region if you wished to seek shelter from or vengeance against another Other. Vampires have never been known for their sense of justice or mercy. Instead of doing something to leash the monsters he had loosed onto my family’s land, he trapped my sister and nearly had me in his hands before the rest of us escaped. With our circle broken, we had little power, no protection, no homes to return to, and no hope of vengeance.’
That confused me. Max worked out of Chicago, not Boston, as far as I knew. And what would he want with a mage?
‘He was driven out of Boston some time ago by Alec Royce. Some other vampire—Ian Taft—runs the northern New England territories now.’
This was all news to me. I couldn’t recall Royce or any of his people ever mentioning this. Shifting impatiently in my seat, I was careful to keep from speaking aloud and drawing Jack or Bo’s attention again, keeping the conversation internal. Somehow, against my better judgment, the belt’s motivations were starting to make a twisted kind of sense, and I was gradually losing my desire to destroy it. Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why didn’t you try harder to kill Max when I was fighting in Royce’s home?
‘You know as well as I do that you wouldn’t have survived the fight.’
Okay. Good point.
‘I’ve waited this long. I knew you’d have a reason to use me eventually, running in the circles you do. That you’d give me a chance to really work through you. You had to be in a certain mindset and use me to kill—which you did—for me to influence you as much as I do now. It’s made you stronger. Better. A more efficient killer. And once you’ve had enough practice, we can take down the one I really want.’
Well. You had to admire the thing’s work ethic.
‘Your mission hasn’t changed, and neither has mine. If you truly want vengeance, then you won’t deviate from this path, and you’ll let me help you do what needs to be done. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be pretty—but in the end you’ll get what you want, and so will I.’
This put things into a different perspective for me. As angry as I’d been at the belt, it did have a point. I’d never expected this hunt for Chaz and Dillon to be easy, or that there wouldn’t be bloodshed along the way. It didn’t make Vic’s death right, but it did make me less inclined to destroy the belt the minute I could take it off.
It also put some of my other dealings into a new light. Maybe Arnold and Chaz had never gotten along for deeper reasons than I previously had understood. There seemed to be a whole different world of politics and history that they’d kept from me. My ire against the Others was rising again.
Maybe it was time I stopped just using the belt, and took some time to listen to it instead.
‘That would be wise. We’ll be much more effective if we’re not working at odds.’
I considered it. Then, another thought struck me.
What was your name? Is any of your family still alive?
The belt didn’t answer me right away. There were some strange emotions roiling around in my mind, deep down in that place where the belt often took up residence, tickling in the back of my skull. Like me, but not, an alien presence that somehow felt right at home. Once it answered, its voice was the most quiet and subdued I’d ever heard it be.
‘No one has asked me that in a very long time.’
That gave me pause. I’m sorry. Do you remember?
‘Isaac. My name was Isaac Tanner. Three of us died to fuel the spell that made me into ... this. My father, Abijah, used me to seek vengeance and try to save my sister, Cornelia. He failed, but managed to pass me to another mage before he died. They’re all gone. Dead. All I’ve known is sleep when I am not in use, then the minds of those who wear me, the weapons they wield and the language they use, and the need to fulfill my purpose. There are no dreams for me, no body, no real rest. I am alone now.’
The overwhelming grief it radiated brought the sting of tears to my eyes. I pressed my fingertips to the leather, though I knew the belt itself couldn’t feel my touch—only feel the sensation through my skin.
I’m sorry. You have me now.
I already hated Max Carlyle, but I now knew that, like the belt, I couldn’t rest until I’d found vengeance for Isaac and his family.
Those thoughts stayed with me when we arrived at Jack’s house, as we carried the body in the dead of night to a small boat moored on the docks behind the house. Though I still felt a faint pang of regret when we dropped Vic in the water a couple miles offshore, still tied up in his tarp trappings and now weighted with rocks, I no longer felt that I’d made the wrong decision.
The hunters knew what they were doing. They felt no qualms or regrets about the death of another Other.
From this point forward, neither would I.
Chapter 8
When we pulled into the dock, almost everyone went straight inside to go to bed or they went to their cars to head to their respective homes. Jack went to the front porch to have a smoke, and no one commented when I eased away from the others to join him.
He offered me a cig when I sat down on the rail of the fencing surrounding the porch directly across from the bench he’d taken a seat on. I shook my head, picking at a splinter in the wood and avoiding his gaze.
“I need to make a phone call.”
Jack ignored me until he’d finished lighting up and took the first deep drag, making the tip of his cigarette glow brightly enough to cast eerie shadows on the valleys and depressions of his face. “Not a good idea. Modern technology can be traced, given the right skills, time, and budget. This mess with the werewolves has the Feds interested, and I’m not interested in leading them here.”
I bit back my first reaction, which was to curse and break something. After taking a few deep breaths and counting to ten, I was composed enough to continue. “I’m not asking permission. We’re short on time and leads. I know some people who might be able to help.”
Jack gestured with his cigarette for me to continue.
“There were two police officers who wanted me—
“Are you crazy? Bad enough to make a call, but to the cops? I thought you were smarter than that.”
Scowling, I kicked at his foot. He winced at the contact, and I instantly felt bad, but at least he was glaring and listening instead of brushing me off. “Let me finish! They can help. These two, they wanted me to hide, not come to the station. They’re investigating werewolves connected to Jim Pradiz’s murder, so they might have some leads. If they have any info we could use, they could help end this mess now.”
Jack ashed his cigarette and rose, the scent of death and smoke heavy on his breath as he leaned in to me to whisper a few words before retreating inside the house. “Don’t think even for a moment that they’re on your side. Not after what you did tonight.”
I recoiled as if he’d slapped me. Jack was every bit as much of a killer as I was, but he had a point. Talking to the cops immediately after committing a murder was not the smartest thing to do, but I was out of other options. With two weeks between now and my potential change, I had to act fast.
I hopped off the fence and grabbed Jack’s shoulder. He didn’t turn, but he did stop and glance back at me, one pale brow rising as he flicked his cigarette into the barrel of sand nearby.
“Listen, Jack. I kn
ow you don’t like it, but I think they can help. I don’t believe for a second that you’ve cut yourself off from all technology out here. You had to be able to reach those other hunters somehow.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed, but he jerked his head at the door. “Talk to Keith.”
Looked like that was all the help I was going to get from him. I brushed past him and entered the house, taking the stairs two at a time to reach Keith’s room on the second floor. Like me, he had taken up residence with Jack and Nikki, relying on their hospitality and bankroll to stay hidden from—well, come to think of it, I’d never asked him who he was on the run from. I was most likely better off not knowing.
Keith answered on the third knock, wearing nothing but socks and boxer shorts. The bright red and blue stripes seemed especially garish against his pallor. There was a video game paused on the screen of one of the computers lined up against the wall.
He blinked, rubbing the back of his neck, when he saw me standing there. “Hey, Shia, what’s up?”
“I, uh ...” ... forgot what I was going to say at the sight of his skinny frame. For a second the belt had a twinge of reaction like I was confronting a vampire. That boy was pale.
“Look, I’m kind of busy here. Do you need something or what?”
I cleared my throat. “Sorry. Yes. I need to make a phone call. A secure phone call. Jack said I should talk to you.”
“Oh. Sure. One sec.”
He turned away and went to a closet. He pulled out a moving box that was literally full of cell phones. A couple fell out when he dragged the box closer. He kicked one of them toward me that I stopped with my foot, then knelt down to pick up.
“We have these for emergencies. The signal here sucks, but if you walk a few blocks north you should get a couple bars. Don’t turn it on until you’re ready to use it. I reprogrammed it to scramble the signal, but it can still be traced if the equipment is sophisticated enough. Keep your convo short, and make sure you pop out the battery as soon as you end your call. Bring it back to me and let me know if you need another one.”