The Jaded Hunter

by Michelle M. Pillow

  If Tyr did evoke her into feeling more in him than there was, then everything she felt was a lie. Logic told her it was a lie. Logic was cold comfort to a bleeding and broken heart. Moisture burned inside her eyes and stung her nose. She suppressed it down into the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t trust him and she couldn’t trust herself since meeting him. There was only one thing for her to do. The very thing she set out to do in the first place.

  * * *

  Island of Mykonos, Cyclades

  The metropolitan island club of Mykonos thrived with the ambiance of drunken drag queens with high-spun hair of all colors, and carousing businessmen with discarded jackets and rolled up sleeves on their luxury yachts. It was an odd mixture of subcultures, blended into the ancient land of the Greek gods, back dropped by whitewashed buildings created by unknown folk artists, sandy beaches, water that was bright and clear during the day but now the blue-black of a starry night. Narrow pathways weaved intricately through nightclubs and churches, homes and shopping nooks.

  Music poured out into the streets, following patrons as they hopped from one nightclub to the next. Drunken humans stumbled around, thinking the undead gazes in their midst were just more of the same eccentric travelers, blending in with the beautiful surrounding, beckoning a drunk mate for just one night of naughty pleasure. And the travelers would say to themselves, Why not? It’s a vacation, before falling prey to the deepest of unearthly kisses.

  It was easy pickings for the vampires who inhabited the sacred land of Delos only eleven miles away by boat. No human ferries left for Delos after dusk or before dawn as it was illegal to stay on the ancient island over night—and for good reason. The hot daylight might be a time of exploration to the tourists seeking out Greek history. But the night belonged to the vampire and they didn’t appreciate intruders.

  The night provided safe passing for the undead. Their arranged crafts blended into the dark waters, mixing with the yachts docked into harbor. Mykonos was a natural stop for any vampire traveling to meet with the council hidden beneath Delos’ surface.

  The council’s whereabouts was not common knowledge among the undead, and the island’s vampire population was kept on close watch by the Vrykolatios to make sure such secrets were not discovered. But for the rare human knowing of the island secrets, Mykonos was a perfect place to hide. The rowdy crowds thronged the streets, making disguises various and easy to come by. Besides, one human smelled as ripe as the next to those who watched from shadows.

  Mack strode easily through the crowd, wearing a cardigan sweater with his jacket and slacks, a smile pasted plainly on his face, creasing the lines next to his elegant mouth. Occasionally, he would laugh, turning his head to some alcohol-induced antic. Inside, he didn’t feel the joy, concentration burning deep as he plotted and schemed. Behind him, strolling as unknown passersby trailed Rick and Tom, pretending to enjoy each other’s company with easy smiles and hard, watchful eyes.

  Stepping over the cobblestone streets, Mack turned past one of the noisy clubs boasting an awful rendition of karaoke music. The surrounding crowd cheered the hapless singer on. Coming to a darker corner hidden from the busy streets, Mack stopped. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Tom and Rick stride past. Neither one of them stopped or acknowledged they saw him turn.

  “You are late,” Pietro’s voice said from within the darkness.

  “It couldn’t be helped,” Mack answered in low tones before turning around. Grabbing a handkerchief from his front jacket pocket, he blotted the sweat from his brow. “I wanted to be sure I wasn’t followed.”

  “You were not,” Pietro said. He stood still, his hands folded before his stomach, his fingers pressed thoughtfully against each other. At length, he said, “It is a wonder that you are so cautious, being as a document of yours was taken from one of your men.”

  “What document?” Mack asked, swallowing to hide his fear. He thought of Jaden.

  “No, not the dhampir,” Pietro said, reading the thought. Mack cleared his mind. “It was a directive stating a client’s wishes to bed a chained vampire woman. It was very careless of you, MacNaughton, to leave a trail. I should expect better from you in the future.”

  “You have no proof it is mine,” Mack said in weak defense. He never wrote down orders…unless it was one of his men.

  Pietro grimaced, holding up his hands to stop any protest Mack might make. He didn’t care about the atrocities of the human race. “I care not how you make your fortune for it suits me that you have it.”

  Brusquely, Mack nodded. Pietro never asked the details of what he did, but deep down he had a feeling the vampire knew. Lowering his eyes in respect, he asked softly, “What news of my niece? Is Jaden safe?”

  “For the time being,” Pietro said, giving the man neither hope nor comfort. He drew back as a noisy throng stalled near the alcove’s entrance. Mack ducked into the shadows. They waited as a woman crawled on the ground looking for her lost earring. A man came up behind her. Sweeping her up by the waist, he carried her away amidst the clamor of tumultuous laughter and promises of more jewels to replace the one she dropped.

  When they were once again relatively alone, Pietro added, “Tyr still has her. Their location is only known to a few. In three nights, the council has ordered she be brought to them for questioning. They are very curious as to your business practices.”

  “Jaden doesn’t know a thing.” Mack veiled his emotions. Pietro had no desire to read into him and that suited Mack’s purpose just fine.

  “Good,” Pietro said. “So if you fail, there will be no answers she can give.”

  “Fail?”

  “In rescuing her, you’ll have one chance to liberate your precious dhampir and capture the elusive Tyr. When they come to the island to cross over to Delos, you must have your men ready. And you must kill the boatman. There can be no witnesses. I’ll take care of the council. I’ll tell them Tyr never delivered the girl. They will think he betrayed them. It is important that you do not let him escape. When you are done with the knight’s blood, kill him.”

  It was the most Mack had ever heard Pietro utter in one grouping. Mack shivered, feeling the coldness of the old vampire’s gaze, the hatred he had for his own kind.

  Taking a deep breath, Mack answered, “It will be as you say.”

  “Make it so.” Pietro lowered his head.

  Mack, knowing what was to come next, shrugged out of his jacket and began rolling up his sleeve. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one watched before lifting his arm to Pietro’s mouth in offering. Pietro reached for him, his cold fingers snapping out like the brittle limbs of fall trees. He stopped to glance over the mortal’s shoulder.

  Mack turned, seeing Rick standing in the entryway. A scowl etched the soldier’s questioning features as he came forward. His eyes darted from Mack’s offered arm to the vampire disappearing above them.

  Mack turned, his eyes moving above his head to look at the night sky. Tugging down his sleeve, he pulled on his sleeve. Rick watched carefully, his chest heaving, his jaw working in mounting anger and suspicion.

  “Are we consorting with vampires now, Mack?” Rick asked, his hatred for the undead etched into every word.

  Tom came running around the corner. He skidded to a halt seeing Mack’s calm face confronted with Rick’s anger. Tom hesitated. Then, glancing guiltily at Mack, he said, “I’m sorry, Mack. He got away from me in the crowd.”

  “You knew about this, Tom?” Rick backed away from both of them in disbelief. “You knew he was consorting with the enemy? What the hell is going on?”

  “Mack…” Tom nodded aggressively at Rick’s back, willing to take the man out at his boss’s command.

  “Don’t worry about it, Tom. Head back to the hotel. We’ll be right behind you.” Mack brushed off the front of his jacket. When Tom had done what was ordered of him, Mack turned his kindest, most understanding smile towards Rick. Rick watched in growing confusion.

  “What’s going on here?
” Rick persisted. “What were you doing with that—that vampire?”

  “I care for Jade too,” Mack said, allowing his eyes to show his stress. He knew Rick would misinterpret the cause of the emotion. “But I won’t be ruled by fear. I won’t let my emotions rule my head.”

  Mack saw the look, the raw guilt and passion the man carried for his niece. He had suspected it before, but never knew for sure. Now he had his answer shining like a dying beacon in the soldier’s eyes. Rick’s breaking heart was in that look and Mack took full advantage. Rick would be like putty to his molding fingers.

  “I’ll do what I must to obtain information about her—even if that means letting a vampire suck on my arm,” Mack said. “This is not a white-and-black business we are in. There are messy shades of crimson haunting us in everything we do. If I must consort with the enemy to save my niece, then so be it. I would face the devil himself to have her back into the safety of my fold.”

  Rick watched the older man’s controlled expressions. Suspicions and doubt clouded the back of his mind, but mention of Jaden took precedence over his feelings. There would be plenty of time to figure out Mack once Jaden was avenged. His first duty was to her.

  “What did you discover?” Rick questioned, his tone sharp from aggravation.

  “She’s alive.”

  “Where?” Rick didn’t dare to hope. His heart raced, his mind darted frantically trying to formulate a plan with no facts. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Mack turned his eyes away so Rick couldn’t read his expression.

  “What is it? What’s happened?” Rick crossed to Mack, forcing the older man around to face him. “You must tell me.”

  “It isn’t good,” Mack announced like a minister at a funeral. His words dropped to a whisper. “She’s been…ill-used.”

  Rick felt his stomach drop. His heart beat in awful thumps, dreading the man’s next words. He thought of Jaden’s face, the hard lines softened with laughter, a memory he carried from their first night together. He remembered her face in slumber, lying in his bed, made peaceful from the potent drugs he’d dosed her with. He loved her and whatever happened to her would be his fault. He’d left her helpless. Rage worked inside him, swallowing up the sickening terror of what he was about to learn.

  “Tyr has made use of her, Rick,” Mack said gravely. “She’s been tortured and abused most viciously. I can’t even begin to describe for you the liberties that undead bastard has taken with her.”

  “No,” Rick whispered, his hard face growing pale, his steady eyes wavering. His large body quivered in fear. He forced himself to listen. It was his self-punishment that he should hear everything and his redemption would be making it right.

  “God in heaven, it must be killing her to be that undead monster’s…” Mack let his words trail off with a tortured breath. Rick looked helplessly at him, urging him to finish the sentence and at the same time praying that he wouldn’t. In a low voice, Mack whispered, “whore.”

  “He’s…he’s touched her then? You’re sure of it?”

  Mack nodded once, his only answer.

  “I’ll kill him,” Rick swore.

  “I know Jade,” Mack said, with a comforting pat. “She is a tough girl. She will get over this in time. But I know something we can do to help her recover.”

  “What?” His words hoarse, Rick promised, “I’ll do anything. Just tell me.”

  “We must capture Tyr.”

  “Capture?” Rick’s eyes rounded in disbelief that Mack could even say such words to him. “Don’t you mean kill?”

  “No,” Mack stated coolly. “I mean capture. We let Jaden do what she will with him. Let her kill him. Let her know for sure he is dead by seeing his death, by causing it. It’s the only way to help her. Otherwise, she might always be fearful and then she will be no good to us or the cause.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the cause,” Rick hissed. Another wave of nightclubbers passed by in reckless abandon, their laughter sending a chill through Rick. How naive they were of the world. Their only care was finding the directions to the next bar.

  “At this moment neither do I,” Mack said with more control. “But Jaden does care about the cause. Without the fight, she could never be whole.”

  Rick slowly nodded in agreement, his mind unable to argue the point. Jaden’s whole life was fighting vampires. She even sacrificed personal happiness and companionship for it.

  “Will you help me?” Mack asked. “Can I count on you to lead the men? Can I count on you to have a clear head about this?”

  “Yes,” Rick answered. “Just tell me what needs to be done.”

  As they walked back to the hotel, Mack began laying voice to his plan, “They will arrive in three night’s time...”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jotunheimen Mountain Range, Norway

  Tyr stared at the sealed pouch of blood gripped in his hand. The contents were tepid, unappetizing on the best of nights, but necessary to live. Tonight he couldn’t find the hunger for it. His stomach tightened in anger each time he thought of drinking and his mouth twitched in protest, ferociously urging for a warmer fluid to fill his palate. Only one drink would do—only one person’s blood would satisfy him. Jaden’s.

  His body wanted her, craved her, needed her. He knew she was a liar, a deceitful wench sent by Odin to torment him. When he stood before the council and told the truth about what he had learned, she would most certainly be sentenced to death. If only she hadn’t lied to him, he could’ve protected her. If she’d only told him what she knew of Mack and his business, no matter how big or small. But she didn’t trust him. He couldn’t blame her. With the life she had lived, he wouldn’t trust anyone either. It didn’t change the facts.

  Jaden would never come to feel anything but disgust for his kind. She even abhorred herself for desiring him, had fought her lust till the bitter end. She thought he was a disease, a curse, a maggot to be squished under her mortal boot. Had she not said as much on many occasions? Her defiance was one of the things that drew him to her. She was tough and reckless. And, in his bed, she had been most passionate. There was no denying the ardor jumping back and forth between their bodies. Reviled or not, their obsession was as hot as molten metal and her body burned just as brightly as his.

  How was it he could distrust someone so much, yet physically fit into her as if she were shaped to be his? It was a force they couldn’t control and he felt it building between them once more. They might have been able to temper their longing, but they would never restrain it. Already Tyr felt the temptation cutting heavily into his blood and he knew that she would respond to it as much as she resisted. The more they fought and the longer they hated, the stronger their yearning became until it exploded. Once tasted, the bitter-sweetness of it would only tempt again and again…and again.

  Groaning, the thought brought Tyr up short. He could admit he’d become attached to the reckless dhampir, but he didn’t wish to discover how deeply those feelings ran. He couldn’t care for someone who lied to him to protect the guilty. He couldn’t feel for a woman who didn’t trust him, and in all probability didn’t like him. But, despite all of what he couldn’t do, he found himself doing just that. He wanted her, wanted to claim her and possess her. He wanted to control her and be controlled by her. He wanted this nightmare of their own making to be over.

  Tyr threw the package of blood against the storage wall. He watched with satisfaction as it splattered on the gray rock, dripping down the sides of the dark stone to pool onto the floor. His body clung to anger. He spun around, navigating his way through the dark tunnels with ease. Seeing the light of his fireplace beckoning him from beneath a heavy door, he slowed. His body dissolved into mist, slipping around the edges as he passed through the barrier.

  Jaden was still on the couch, her face turned towards the flames in deep contemplation. He felt the torment in her. He wanted to erase it from her. Like the brief moment he had her in the field of his mind, lying on the soft
grass, weighed down by armor. For a moment, right before he kissed her, he felt happiness, tentative and pure and new within her. She had given him a willing smile and a chuckle. His soul ached that it should be so again.

  But this deceitful creature before him now, spouting half-truths about honesty, was not that same woman. She was his prisoner, his obligation. And so help him, he was going to do his duty. Honor forbade anything else. Striding into the room, he looked her up and down. Her face turned to him in horror before she jumped to her feet.

  He felt her clearing her thoughts, though he hadn’t been reading into them. She glanced briefly at the fireplace, but he was too angry to detect the faint smell that came from there. Her chest rose and fell with fragile breath. His fist pulled at his side, clenching and unclenching with the desire to strike out, to make her tell him the truth. He took a step forward and then another. His eyes glared out from under sunken brows.

  “Tyr.” Jaden’s heart fluttered. He looked livid. Could it be that he knew her lie? Had he come to drag her to the council now? She panicked. Her hands reached absently behind her as she sought composure. Finding the reality of the wall heart her back, she lifted her jaw rebelliously.

  “I shouldn’t want you,” he swore. “I shouldn’t want to touch you.”

  For all his words, they didn’t sound like a compliment. They sounded like a curse. Jaden trembled, not answering. Her eyes took in the raw exposure of his face, the lines that threatened the whites of his eyes with red.

  “What are you doing to me?” he demanded.

  “I’m doing nothing to you. I don’t even like you,” she yelled, eyes wide and round. “I hate you. We are enemies!”

  That caused a chuckle, mysterious and wicked, to escape Tyr’s throat. He was in front of her within a blink. The tip of his nose touched hers as he probed her eyes. Jaden saw a dark war waging within him, felt the confusion of his soul. She tried to ignore it, tried to block it. She told herself it wasn’t real. That it was all a trick to confuse her, to keep her off guard. How could a vampire’s soul be tormented when they didn’t have one?