Heavy footsteps sounded and he turned to see Blades approach. He was supporting Turk, whose bloodied right leg looked like it had copped a close-range shotgun blast.
‘Thanks, Bulldog,’ Blades said. ‘Whatever alpha shit you just pulled, you saved our asses.’
Jericho nodded at Turk’s leg. ‘You going to be alright?’
‘It’s just lead.’ Turk shifted and winced. ‘I’ll heal.’
‘And you?’ Jericho’s eyes shifted to Blades, spying several bullet wounds in his left arm.
‘Nothing permanent,’ Blades answered. ‘We got the heads-up just in time to get some men ready to defend the bar.’
Reaper and Frost came up alongside them, both faces grim and splattered in mud. Reaper pointed at the vest, which bore the marks of being hit by more than once by bullets.
‘Decided I don’t care if it’s a butterfly,’ he remarked. ‘This saved me a lot of pain today.’
‘They’re dragons.’ Winger came up alongside them, wiping his blood-splattered knuckledusters on his jeans. ‘Can’t you tell?’
Reaper wrapped a hand around the back of the prospect’s neck in an affectionate gesture. ‘Dragons, it is.’
‘We’ve doubled security at the Dog House,’ Frost told Jericho. ‘Every man is on high alert.’
Jericho hesitated, glancing at Turk, the question in his eyes. Was he still in charge, or had the power base already shifted to Vaughn? He understood now it wasn’t something he would challenge Vaughn over. He wouldn’t even stand in his way. If his brothers thought it was time for him to step aside, then he would do so, because that’s what family did. Sacrificed everything for those they loved.
The old biker met his eye with a steady gaze. ‘Couldn’t even get Vaughn on the phone. The bastard had it turned off, as if he there was something more important he had to be doing than being around here.’
‘Did you call Crystal Waters?’ Jericho asked.
‘Fuck that,’ Turk snarled. ‘He wasn’t here when he could have helped. He’s no leader.’
‘That’s right,’ Blades said. ‘We can’t have that prick being in charge.’
Jericho felt something like pride fill his chest. He was still needed by his brothers and still trusted. It meant a lot. ‘Then he won’t be,’ he said. ‘I’ll call council, make sure they fully understand what’s going on here.’
‘You think the Slayers will come back?’ Blades asked, wiping some of the blood from his face.
Before he could reply, Jericho’s phone rang. He answered it when he saw Lydia’s name, stepping away from his crew. ‘This is a bad time, baby.’
‘I need you at my house. Now.’
‘Lydia—’
‘Anna Lewis’s killer is Jamie McCormick, the fireman I was out with at the Grill.’
Jericho’s hand tightened around his mobile. ‘Where are you right now?’
‘I’m coming from the police station.’ She paused to suck in a quick breath. ‘Listen, the Solbergs aren’t answering their phone and I’ve got a bad feeling. I’m heading home to check on them.’
‘You need to stay at the station,’ Jericho ordered her. ‘I’ll check this guy out.’
‘No.’ Her breath turned choppy as she began to hurry her pace, then the phone went silent in his hand as she hung up, not waiting to hear if he’d come or not. Guess she knew him pretty well.
‘What’s wrong?’
Jericho looked up from his phone to see his brothers watching him. He tucked his phone away, palmed his keys. ‘Lydia knows who the Hunter is. Thinks he might be going to her house. She’s travelling from the cop station.’
‘Winger and I will sort things out here,’ Turk said, and Blades let him go, joining Frost and Reaper as they moved for their bikes, keys jangling. Jericho keyed his ignition, his bike roaring to life with a deep growl.
‘We got an ID yet?’ Frost shouted over the roar of engines.
‘Doesn’t matter.’ Jericho snapped his throttle, letting his bike roar. ‘You see someone, other than the Solbergs or Lydia, you kill ’em.’
Chapter 34
Lydia slammed on the brakes at the last minute outside her home, coming to a stop beside a blue hatchback she didn’t recognise. She sat for a moment, frozen, staring at her front door that sat wide open. He was inside. Fear twisted her stomach and her legs shook, knees feeling loose. Her breath became a harsh rasp and black dots peppered her vision. The killer was inside. Another killer she’d missed.
How?
She tried to control her breathing. Tried to force her frozen limbs to move, heart hammering against her ribs.
‘Lydia Gault, get moving right now,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Move.’
Sweat trickling down the back of her neck, she opened her car door, almost having to pull herself out of the ute.
Around her, the woods whispered with a rising wind and a light shower of rain began to fall. She staggered towards the open door, breath ragged. Would Jamie look the same? Or would he be changed, now that she knew what he was? Would she see it? Would she be able to see the evil inside him?
At the door, she peered inside. Nothing looked out of place, save for the smashed tray on the kitchen floor, globs of lasagna splattered around. Hand shaking, she pulled the gun from the back of her jeans and stepped inside. Eyes raking the room, she noted the sudden shadows as the sun was covered by gathering storm clouds. The smell of blood flipped her stomach. Her eyes settled on Greta at the kitchen table, her throat slashed open. Beside her, Dominic lay face down on the ground, not moving.
Lydia stepped over to him, her heart a thunderous beat in her ears, blotting all else out. Kneeling beside Dominic, she saw blood on the back of his head as she fumbled for a pulse, managing to find a faint one.
She stood, shutting down that feeling part of herself as she clinically assessed Greta’s blood-soaked body, thankful at least the elderly woman’s eyes were closed. The wound looked fresh, not more than an hour old, and the thought was like a crushing blow.
She shut the regret down and moved away from the body, searching for the man who’d ended Greta’s life. A crushing sensation gripped her chest, doubling her heartbeat, and she wanted to scream with frustration. She couldn’t have a panic attack now. She didn’t have time for it. She had to control it, had to control herself, or she was going to get dead.
‘Lydia.’
A scream nearly ripped from her, but she managed to clamp her teeth down on it. Jamie stood by the back door, body lit by a ray of sunlight. In his right hand he held a bowie knife, the blade bloody. Lydia fought an overwhelming urge to drop her weapon and plead for her life. But her nerve held and her hands did not let go, and the pleas would not come. Jamie walked towards her with slow, measured steps, ignoring the gun she pointed at him.
‘Don’t come any closer,’ she hissed. ‘Drop the knife.’
Jamie levelled his blade at her. ‘I knew you’d come eventually. I knew we’d have this chance together. You see, there’s just no way you could replace me. And, I’m afraid, I have to make sure of that.’
‘Keep away from me.’ The words were raw, desperate, but he kept coming toward her, slow step by step. She braced herself and pulled the trigger, hitting him three times in the chest. Jamie staggered back, face a grimace, but didn’t go down. Lydia narrowed her eyes when she didn’t see any blood.
‘Oh, Lydia.’ Jamie’s voice was breathless, as if he’d just been winded. ‘You’re hurting my feelings now.’
She pulled the trigger again, aiming for a headshot, but her arms began to shake and her vision blurred. Chest constricting, heartbeat racing, she fired two more shots, heard them shatter something beyond her target.
‘What’s wrong?’ His voice was close now, so close. ‘Are you having one of your panic attacks? I read your file, you know. Just terrible what you had to go through. I guess all the medication in the world can never fix what he did to you. How he cut you. The things he wanted to do to you.’
Her nerve snapped
and she turned and ran, stumbling back outside, gasping for breath. Almost falling down the veranda steps, she lurched for the edge of the woods. She had to run, had to flee, and her legs pumped without rhythm or grace. Just a mad scramble for her life.
Around her, the woods were a blur as she fell over broken pines and rocks. She realised at one point she’d dropped her weapon and she knew she had to stop, go back and look for it. But fear spurred her onwards, reminding her that death stalked her.
As she came to a small incline in the woods, she paused to get her breath, a deep pain in her side causing her to double over. As she searched the woods behind her for any sign of pursuit, the pain in her side grew, engulfing her body, and she fell to the ground with a cry, the soft grass damp under her palms. She struggled back to her feet. Spat blood and wondered if she’d bit her lip. Then the pain became crushing, sinking into her like a boulder. Agony roared though her left hand and she lifted it, biting back a scream and watched with horror as the bones in her fingers spasmed, bones snapping and clicking against each other.
She was changing.
Horror shot through her, cold and cruel. Jericho had talked about killing her as a kindness, the change being too horrible for an adult to endure. Her body shaking, she tried to think. Tried to clear her mind. Tried to ignore the part of her that wanted to just curl up in a ball and wait for either Jamie or the virus take her. Then her thoughts stuttered to a halt, fixating on a memory. The black case they’d taken from Coulter, in the ute. It was still there, she was sure of it. Hauling herself to her feet, she stumbled back the way she came, trying her best to watch for her pursuer. As she weaved her way back, her stomach cramped and she doubled over with a muted shout as heat scalded her skin. Her head jacked back as another spasm shook her body. Something snapped in her neck and cold sweat soaked her t-shirt, before a blast of arctic cold blew down her spine. Her hands were scorching and pins and needles punctured her legs. She nearly collapsed, panting in short bursts. Clenching her teeth, she dragged herself to her feet again. She knew she had to make it.
Twigs crunched behind her and she tasted an aftershave on the breeze. Tasted it. Legs appeared in front of her, then bent. Jamie’s face. He was saying something. His mouth was moving, but she couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t make out the words. She lifted her eyes, saw he looked smug, this killer. No longer the nervous kid who’d asked her out. He was the Hunter she was afraid of, hiding in plain view. She gave a weak cry and stumbled away from him. She ran, nearly sobbing with relief when her home came into view, the Solbergs’ ute parked out the front.
Her body slammed against the passenger side, two of her nails breaking when she clawed at the door handle.
‘You can’t escape me, Lydia,’ Jamie called from the wood’s edge.
She swung the door open, but her feet slipped on grass slick with rain and she fell back, her side smacking into metal with a painful jolt. Jamie stalked towards her, knife in hand.
‘I’m Coulter’s niece, I have Hunter blood,’ she rasped out. ‘You can’t do this.’
‘And Coulter is as good as dead, thanks to you,’ he said. ‘Your boyfriend and his biker crew took him, you know. I was watching. Guess it proves who the better Hunter is.’
Lydia’s fingers reached blindly behind her, searching for the case inside the glove compartment, when her body twitched violently, throat swelling. Her ribcage heaved outward and something cracked open deep inside her. Blood washed down her throat and she gagged, trying to spit it out. Turning, she tried to locate where the black case was, but found the compartment empty.
‘You’re changing, aren’t you.’ He sounded curious. ‘When I was spying on Coulter, I overheard him report you’d been bitten by Breed.’
Lydia moaned as she reached under the front of the seat and nearly cried with relief when her fingers brushed against the rough material of the black case. She snatched it out, unzipping it, just as her spine twisted, throwing her back. Her fingers clutched at the bag tighter and she pulled one of the syringes free.
‘What do you have there?’ Jamie tapped the blade against the side of his cheek, leaving a blood smear on his cheek. ‘Is that a vaccination shot you have there? Did get that from Coulter? Apparently it’s quite reliant on the DNA of the host. But if you want to try it, I’m happy to wait. Then I promise to make it quick, just like I did for the old woman.’
At the mention of Greta, a dark tide rose in Lydia, followed by a flush of anger. The roaring pain receded a little and she felt herself teetering on the edge of a dark ravine, staring down into a pulsing darkness.
Jamie was still talking about what he was going to do to her, but Lydia was done listening. Done listening to people who thought they could frighten her. She dropped the full needle and Jamie watched it fall, a small crease appearing between his brows.
‘You aren’t even going to try and save yourself?’ he asked. ‘That’s a little disappointing.’
She breathed deep and relaxed, embracing her darkness.
Jamie sighed. ‘I suppose I’ll have to finish this now. After all, I’ll really be doing you a favour.’ He knelt down beside her, pushing her head to the side to expose her throat to him. ‘Trust me, Lydia, I’ll be gentle.’
She straightened her head, feeling her hair pull under his grip and smiled. Jamie frowned, clearly hoping for a different reaction. She was happy to disappoint. With a reflex she didn’t know she possessed, she knocked the blade out of his hands and wrapped her hands around his arm. But it wasn’t her hand she saw. The fingers were too long, joints swollen, nails blackened and sharp, and her skin was changed, turning mottled and coarse. Hair on her arm darkened and grew and the pain shattering her body receded, replaced by a towering strength.
Her eyes rose up to meet Jamie’s and she knew she was still smiling, even though his screaming hurt her ears so. She wondered briefly what kind of kind of monster she was becoming and waited for fear to grip her. But it never came. Instead, a great strength surged through her, joined by a realisation that she was now the monster in the woods people should fear. She no longer had to be afraid.
The pungent stink of urine wafted off her prey, and along with it, a sickness. It tasted sour on her tongue and she knew he was ill, with something deadly growing in his body. A tumour, rotting his body from the inside out. She let him go and he turned to run, but she was on him in an instant, knocking him casually to the ground. She pulled one of his arms back, hearing the bones break. He began screaming again and, more than anything, Lydia wanted to taste him, wanted his hot blood to pour down the back of her throat. But the horrific thought was shut down by an inner power that held the monster from blooming whole, as if a semblance of her original self stood before the beast, guarding it from consuming her. She would kill her prey, because his death was the only answer here today. But she would do it her way and not as the beast inside demanded. So she stood and stomped on her would-be killer’s legs, snapping them. Then she knelt beside him and reached for his throat, shutting off his air and ending the nightmare.
Chapter 35
Jericho’s heart stalled when he spied Lydia lying on the ground, face up. He pulled up near her home, back tyre skidding on gravel. She was staring up into the light rain and he could smell blood all around. He dismounted, pulling the gun from the back of his belt as he hurried over, noting the body near her of a man he didn’t immediately recognise.
‘This him?’ Reaper walked over, staring down at the body. ‘Looks kind of dead already.’
‘I hate missing a party,’ Blades said with a disappointed sigh, then he followed Frost inside the house.
Up close, Jericho could see blood being washed from her face from the rain. ‘Lydia?’
Her eyes blinked and rolled to him. ‘Jericho?’
‘Yeah, baby.’ Jericho tucked his gun into the back of his belt and helped her up, running his hands over her body as he checked for injuries.
‘He killed Greta. Dominic is inside, he needs help.’ Grief thicken
ed her voice, before she began to cry. Jericho gathered her up in his arms, holding her against him.
‘Frost will check him out.’ Jericho ran his hands over her, checking for injuries. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘What did she do to this guy?’ Reaper stood over the dead body with a scowl. ‘Looks like most of his bones are broken. How the fuck did she do that?’
Jericho ignored him, helping Lydia to her feet and hearing Blades and Frost exit the house behind him on heavy feet. He turned with Lydia, seeing them regard her with wary faces.
‘The male is unconscious,’ Frost reported. ‘Probably a concussion. The woman is dead.’
‘We’ve got to get her out of here,’ Blades said. ‘Clean the scene.’
Beside him, Lydia stiffened and pulled away from him. ‘You can’t bury this.’
‘We have to,’ Jericho said. ‘And you need to lay low until things calm down.’
‘No—’
He sighed. ‘Please. This isn’t an option.’
Reaper tensed beside him and in the moment of a ragged heartbeat, gunshots rang out. It was a sound so out of place at that particular moment, it took Jericho a second to understand what happened. Lydia’s eyes widened and she slipped from his grip, crumpling to the ground. He stared down at the blood staining her chest, numb.
‘Lydia?’ Knees weak, he sank to the ground beside her, seeing several shots at centre mass. He watched her gasp for breath and his hands fluttered about the wounds, knowing he couldn’t help her. Bullets to the chest were enough to end the strongest man.
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