Capture Death

by Michael Anderle

  “Whiskey on the rocks, please. In fact, make it two.” Jarreth turned and walked toward the closest table. The darkness that settled over him was oppressive, thick. “Canter, bring them over with yours.”

  “No prob,” he called back to Jarreth.

  “Coke please.” Delilah slipped her hands into her pockets as the hair on the back of her neck lifted. Power. She glanced to her right to find the back corner of the bar shrouded in a darkness that didn’t belong there. An impossibly handsome man watched her closely.

  “Here you go, sweetie.” Lindsey’s voice brought Delilah back to the present.

  Reluctantly, she turned from the dark stranger, although his handsome face bored into her mind. “Thanks,” she muttered and accepted the coke. Every cell in her body pulled her toward the man, but she ignored it and took one step, and then another, until she stood beside Jarreth.

  “What’s up?” He glanced up and tilted his head to the side. “You all right? Sit down, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Be right back.” Her voice sounded mechanical, monotone, even to her.

  “Yeah. All right.” Jarreth chuckled and turned his attention back to the table in front of him. “Don’t fall in.”

  She forced a chuckle and walked toward the back of the room. Dark eyes watched her. The soft pitter-patter of her heart spiked to something more uncomfortable. It was like she was back in the middle of the training ground, her life on the line, her reputation challenged.

  Her next breath caught in her chest as she hurried past the dark corner.

  “Hunter,” a deep, sultry voice whispered.

  Ignoring him, she picked up her pace to a jog and slammed the bathroom door shut behind her. She turned and locked it with shaky hands.

  “What the hell?” A cold chill ran down her back, stilling her thoughts. After taking a moment to center herself, Delilah walked to the mirror and turned on the cold water. She splashed a little on her face and patted it dry with a cheap paper towel. A familiar face stared back at her as she looked up, but it was the unfamiliar face outside that captivated her.

  The dark figure in the corner of the bar. Who was he? What was he?

  “The Ancient One?” Another shiver. “Shit.”

  “Hey.” The sound of Canter’s voice outside the locked bathroom door caused her to yelp.

  “Get it together,” she muttered roughly and walked to the door, unlocked it, and put a hand on her hip. “What the hell, Canter? This is the ladies’ room.”

  “Ladies? What are you doing in there, then?” He snorted and smiled as he put up two hands. “Kidding. Just kidding.”

  “What do you want?” She walked out and hustled by the back corner. Unable to keep herself from looking, she glanced over her shoulder to find the corner empty. “Wait. What?”

  Canter bumped into the back of her. “Damn. What’s wrong with you?”

  She turned to face him and lifted an eyebrow. “What did you want?”

  “Where? At the bar?”

  “In the bathroom.” She lifted one hand outstretched pointing back to the bathroom and her free hand on the other hip.

  “Oh.” He reached up and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “I felt your discomfort. I was just making sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine.” She ignored his words and turned on her heel to walk back to Jarreth. “Let’s go cheer up the Grinch. He obviously got his ass chewed by Father Till.”

  “That I did.” Jarreth glanced up and winked before tossing back the dark contents of his first glass of whisky. “He said we’re not ready, and until we are, the Ancient One isn’t showing up.”

  Delilah moved around the table and sat down, but her gaze lingered on the now-empty corner at the back of the bar. Jarreth glanced over his shoulder toward the corner and back at her. “What’s up? Lose something back there?”

  “I don’t know.” She let out a sigh and focused back on her friends. “Something was off. A man. A dark, handsome man.”

  “She’s setting me up, right?” Jarreth glanced over to Canter, who looked like a lost pup as he stared toward the bar. “Oh God. Come on, guys.” He clapped his hands loudly. “Stick with the matter at hand.”

  “I’m serious.” Delilah picked up her coke and took a quick sip. “There was a really good-looking guy back there. Something like power radiated from him. I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

  “How do you know what power feels like? We’ve been sheltered our whole damn lives.” Jarreth leaned back in his seat. A massive fellow across the room stood and knocked over his chair as he got in a smaller guy’s face.

  “Damn.” Canter stood up. “We have to help. That little guy is going to get his ass handed to him.”

  “Not our problem.” Jarreth reached up and pulled Canter back down. “We’re hunters. We fight monsters.”

  “Like that big guy? He’s got giant blood in him. He has to. He’s fucking huge.” Canter stood back up. “Come on. Let’s help.”

  “No.” Jarreth pulled him back down again. “Focus. We have to figure this out.”

  “No, we don’t.” Delilah set her coke down and reached across the table, picking up Jarreth’s second glass of whisky. She downed it before anyone could stop her. “We need to have some fun. Let those two idiots fight. Let’s forget everything. The Ancient One isn’t here, nor is the Huntress coming. When she does, we’ll step into our calling, but until then? Fuck it.”

  “I’m with her.” Jarreth smiled and stood. “We need a release.”

  “Oh God.” Canter put his face into his hands. “We’re supposed to help people.”

  “Nope. Read the contract again.” Jarreth patted his friend on the shoulder as Delilah stood. The sweet smile on her face was only a facade. She was up for an adventure. He could feel it in his bones.

  “Dance with me.” She turned and walked to the dance floor as music poured from the speakers above them. It was almost like someone had turned up the volume.

  Jarreth moved around the table and followed her. “You know I dance better than you.”

  “Who’s the judge?” She turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. “You?”

  Jarreth looked around. “No. We’ll ask a stranger.”

  “Male or female?” She rolled her shoulders and moved from side to side. The feel of Jarreth’s full attention on her was almost too much, and yet, it calmed her to the center of her being. He was one of the only constants in her life.

  “Does it matter?” He reached out and grabbed her hand, spinning her around. “We’ll ask the next person that walks into the bar.”

  “And if it’s a guy, I’ll bet not only will he think that I’m the better dancer, but I bet he’s willing to dance with me for the rest of the night.” She offered a cheeky smile as Jarreth laughed deep in his chest.

  She passed him on his left as they continued the dance. “Let me guess. I’m going to have to do the same if it’s a female?”

  “Yep.” She moved closer and pulled her hand from his. To dance closely with him would be a little too telling. He already knew that she loved him. He had to. Unless he was a complete idiot, which was completely in the realm of possibility, too.

  Her life was so fucked up.

  “Deal. What’s the loser have to do?” He moved with fluidity and grace. Unfortunately, he knew how sexy he was. It would have been more endearing if he didn’t.

  A cold chill ran down Delilah’s back, covering her arms and legs in goosebumps. Power. She turned from the dance floor to find the mysterious stranger back in the corner, his eyes on her. Her position in the room allowed her to fully see his face.

  “Beautiful,” she whispered, locked in a trance with him. Alabaster skin stretched across the most angelic face she’d ever seen. There was no way in hell he was good. The raw sensuality pouring from him over the bar was stifling. His black shirt and jacket blended into the shadows that clung to him. Something was off and terribly wrong about him
.

  “Hey, did I lose you?” Jarreth’s voice was soft and too close for comfort.

  She turned and reached up, pressing her hands to his chest. “Look in the corner.”

  “What? Where?” He slid his hands over her hips and moved closer, as if they were intimate dance partners. “I don’t see anything.”

  Gripping his shoulders, she forced them to turn to find the man still watching her. “He’s right there. In the corner by the women’s restroom.”

  “Hunter.” The same sensual dark voice filled her mind, though the man’s lips never moved.

  “You don’t see him?” She turned them again and lifted her eyes to look Jarreth in the face. “Tall, dark, and handsome? Something is off with him.”

  “I don’t see anything, Kitten. I think you’re pulling my leg.” He stepped back and moved his hips as the music picked up. The door to the bar opened, and a woman who could have been his grandmother walked in. “Agh. Fuck my life.”

  Delilah turned toward the door and let out a giggle-snort. “Oh, wow. That’s awesome. Guess you found our judge.”

  “No. Not happening.” Jarreth walked past her, back to their table. “Give me a mulligan,” he asked over his shoulder.

  “Nope.” She walked after him, although her attention was on the back corner where the dark stranger sat in a booth. His black hair was slicked back; his lips muted pink, his eyes filled with apathy.

  What was his story?

  Who was he?

  “Something feels wrong.” Canter glanced around.

  “Yeah. I lost another bet.” Jarreth reached for his drink. “No. You know what? I’m going to do it. She’s older, but she’s pretty.”

  “No. I’m serious.” Canter turned and looked over his shoulder from his seated position before returning his attention to Delilah. Her eyes were dilated, and her focus locked on the back corner of the bar. “Hey. Look at me.”

  Delilah glanced down, breaking the spell of the stranger for a moment. She took in a deep breath and dropped down into the chair across from Canter as Jarreth walked toward the older woman who had just walked in.

  “What the hell?” Delilah asked.

  “Exactly.” Canter leaned toward her. “You feel it, too?”

  “Feel his power? Yes.” She kept her eyes focused on her cohort, though it took everything inside of her.

  “His?” Canter glanced back over his shoulder again and back at her. “Who’s he?”

  “I don’t know. He’s powerful, though. I can feel his power.” She turned at the sound of Jarreth yelping. A laugh bubbled up inside of her as she covered her mouth. The older woman at the front door was full-on swinging her purse at Jarreth, her face a mask of anger and disgust.

  “Oh shit.” Canter shook his head. “Ignore that. You knew he was going to get smacked around by someone for being an idiot tonight. Talk to me about the guy.”

  “I don’t know who he is,” she replied.

  “I understand that, but why are you saying ‘he’? Which guy is putting off this power? I can only feel a ripple of the power in the air around us; I can’t place it.”

  “The one in the back corner.” Delilah stood up. “I need to help him. This old woman is going to kill him.” She shook his head at the scene playing out before them. “We, unfortunately, need him.”

  “There’s no one in the back.” Canter stood up and turned around to find the back corner empty. What the hell was going on? Delilah was gone when he spun around. Someone had to help Jarreth get away from the assault, even though he most likely deserved it.

  Would they ever be ready to fight as their parents were? The question plagued him like it always did. They were each supposed to have great power within them, power that was forged into their family’s DNA at the beginning of time, but the only special ability he had was an acute sense of empathy. The fluttering of power in a room or around a certain person would spark a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach, but that couldn’t be all there was.

  He was a hunter. A fighter for the church and God. Destined to be great.

  “Right.” He dropped back down in his chair to wait for his friends. Something had to give. Maybe it was all about the Ancient One, the great Huntress that was to come and train them. Immortality was her tale to tell, and yet, she was branded as a heretic and a villain against the church by many who sat in its pews.

  Why? What was her story?

  “Hey, fucker.” Jarreth sat down beside him with a loud huff. “Thanks for the help, asswipe.”

  “You were getting beat up by an old woman.” Canter lifted his eyebrow.

  “And? You could have helped.” Jarreth sighed at his empty drink and leaned back in his chair. “She had a brick in that bag. I’m telling you.”

  Delilah snorted and sat down across from them. “He’s gone.”

  “Who?” Canter sat up straighter.

  “The guy in the back corner that was putting off that power. I told you about him.” She pressed her hands to the table. “Maybe he was the original from the church.”

  “No, that’s a woman,” Jarreth said and smiled. “She’s beautiful, too. A bitch from what I understand, but the pictures of her leave men’s hearts torn to shreds.”

  Delilah rolled her eyes. “Fine. Then let’s lay a bet on her.”

  “No.” Canter waved his hands around. “This has not gone well for you—ever. Do not bet on the Huntress.”

  “Now, just a minute.” Jarreth turned his attention to the pretty redhead that would one day be his wife. Perhaps, maybe… He hoped. “What’s the bet, Kitten?”

  “Why do you call her that? It’s gross.” Canter scowled.

  Delilah ignored him. “You ask her out, and if she’s willing to go with you anywhere, I’ll hit on the Pope the next time we’re in the Vatican.”

  “Deal.” Jarreth couldn’t help himself.

  “No!” Canter gripped their hands and let his head drop. “You guys are idiots.”

  “Yep,” Jarreth responded. “And you’re stuck with us forever, buddy. It’s all good, though.”

  “How’s that?” Canter released his grip on them and leaned back.

  “The Huntress is going to say yes. How could she not?” Jarreth smiled wickedly.

  He pointed to Jarreth. “He’s going to die, isn’t he?” Canter glanced over at Delilah, who was giggling wildly.

  She nodded. “Yep. Hopefully, they’ll assign us a new hunter for our triune.”

  Canter snorted loudly. “Shit. Hopefully, they won’t.”

  Chapter Three

  On most occasions, sleep was a place to find peace and wholeness, but the dark dreams that stained Delilah’s rest that night left her drenched in sweat and shaking the next morning. After a quick shower, she dressed and jogged through the city streets from the academy house to the church.

  Peace would be her reward for making it to the secret passage in Father Till’s office and traveling down to the Great Library. There was something about the smell of old books and the silence that gave her heart rest. A few minutes later, she walked into Father Till’s office.

  “Child?” Father Till glanced up from his chair behind his old, oak desk as she barreled into the room. “What’s wrong?” He stood and pressed his balled fists to his sides.

  “Nothing.” She panted and stood stone still. “Everything? I don’t know.”

  “Talk to me.” He moved from behind the desk as his brow creased. “Did something happen last night?”

  “No.” She glanced down, not truly sure how much to share. Maybe she was losing it. Maybe her power was somehow short-circuiting. She needed answers, but the only safe place to find them was in between the bindings of their history books. Ancient words would calm her, reset her, revive her courage.

  “Delilah.” He stopped in front of her and cupped his strong hands over her shoulders. “I’m here to help bring you and the others into your power, into your calling. Don’t shut me out. I’ve done nothing to deserve that, child.”


  She glanced up. He was right, dammit. She blew out a breath of air. “I know. I’m just having some wayward dreams. I felt like maybe if I searched through the old library that I might find something good to read. A book is my answer to everything.” She offered the father-like figure a smile.

  His expression softened. “Of course. We’re not training until later tonight. Take your time, and if there is anything you’d like to check out, make sure you work with Sister Nancyto do so.”

  “Thank you.” She nodded and moved back, turning and forcing herself to walk evenly, slowly toward the hidden door. Stopping by the fireplace, she leaned in and opened her eyes wide. “Delilah Miller. Only child of Sage Miller. Huntress of the church.”

  The bricks sighed as if relieved to hear her voice again, and the fireplace moved to the right, opening just enough to allow a thin adult to slip through. She couldn’t help but wonder how some of the portlier members of the church made their way down to the Library. The wall closed behind her, plunging her into darkness.

  “Shit,” she whispered and picked up her walk to a jog. Visions of darkness and beauty played along the recess of her mind, and the silly bantering of her friends the night before seemed a million miles away. All she could see was the beautifully haunted man in the corner of the bar.

  There was too much mystery around the Originals and the Ancient Ones. The priests in the church were quite content to let the confusion grow amongst its members and the hunters. Who they were was no one’s business, and yet, all of humanity looked to some form of goodness in times of trial and tribulation. Knowing the Originals and the Ancient Ones, having a revelation of who they truly were would help, right?

  Gas lanterns flared to life on either side of her, causing her to yelp and jump as if she hadn’t known they were soon to light up the path. She let out a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and continued her descent into the earth. The air chilled significantly after a point, and she cursed herself for not bringing her coat.

  Knowledge was the best tool against her fears of whatever had been sitting in the back of the bar. The scrolls and texts would have something about him. They had to. And even more than that, she needed to see the Huntress and understand better who she was. What part did she play?