Night Hunter

by Cathy McDavid

  Nick jumped to the ground beside her, grabbed her hand, and started running. She had trouble keeping up with him, probably because her legs hurt.

  "My car's that way," she said, gasping for breath.

  "Forget the car. Your plates can be traced."

  "Where are we going?"

  "Iglisia de San Pedro."

  With any luck, the basement window would still be broken. If the police were looking for them, they might not think to search inside a church.

  "That's a half mile from here," Gillian objected, slowing down.

  "We can make it." Nick dragged her after him. He considered calling Charlie, only to dismiss the idea. He didn't want Charlie leaving Stevie alone or waking her up in order to bring her along. It was too dangerous for a young girl, even one destined to be a Huntress.

  They left the sidewalk and cut behind an office building, through a line of neatly trimmed hedges, and emerged in the building's parking lot.

  Stopping to rest beneath one of the steel parking shades, Nick spared a moment to look around and assess their situation. If they stayed off the streets and stuck to a back route, they could afford to travel at a slower pace. But it would take them longer to reach the church and safety.

  The sirens ceased wailing, first one and then the other. Nick watched through the building's breezeway as a pair of police cars pulled into the driveway leading to the ExhibitionCenter.

  "Break's over," he said. They sprinted from one parking shade to the other until there were no more.

  "Come on," Nick called, giving her no time to rest.

  Twenty yards into the open, they were spottednot by the police, but Cadamus.

  He dived at them, clubbing Nick on the shoulder as he swooped past. Ignoring the sharp stab of pain, Nick kept running. So did Gillian.

  "What are we going to do?" she yelled.

  "Head for the street." Nick had wanted to avoid being seen. He wanted to be killed and eaten by Cadamus even less. "He won't follow us there. Too many people."

  They veered to the right, their destination a narrow passage between a fast-food restaurant and a medical complex.

  Cadamus made another dive at them, the gust of air from his wings nearly knocking them off their feet. He grabbed Gillian by the arm, ripping her from Nick's grasp and lifting her high in the air.

  She let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  "A mate for a mate." Cadamus snarled at Nick, his lips stretched back in a hideous grimace-or was it a smile?-revealing his many sharp teeth.

  Gillian twisted and thrashed, pummeling Cadamus with her free hand. He fended off her assault as if she were no more bothersome than a pesky housefly. Nick watched them ascend and felt a part of his soul being wrenched away.

  "No!" he cried. "Release her. It's me you want." Now is not the time for battle.

  The Ancients' voices reverberated in his head. "Coward," Nick called to Cadamus. Wait, the Ancients said.

  "The hell I will." Nick reached in his pants for the ritual dagger. Drawing it out, he raised it over his head, took aim, and hurled it at Cadamus.

  It missed the creature's chest but pierced his right wing, leaving behind a gaping hole before dropping with a clank onto the ground.

  Cadamus yowled, his hideous face a mask of agony. Like a broken kite, he tipped and faltered, lost altitude, and let go of Gillian before her added weight dragged them both down.

  She fell only a short distance, landing on her hands and knees. Nick ran over and dropped down beside her. Confirming for himself that she was alive and relatively sound, he rose and turned to face Cadamus ... who wasn't there.

  Damn it to hell. Where could he have gone so fast, injured as he was?

  Nick scanned the nearby rooftops. No inky shadow. No rustle of wings. No shriek or hiss.

  "You okay?" He returned to Gillian and helped her to stand.

  "Why the fuck am I always falling?" she snapped.

  Nick pulled her into his arms, held her until she stopped shaking, then gently reminded her that they needed to get away. No one had come running to investigate the disturbance, but that was no guarantee their brief encounter with Cadamus wasn't observed and even now being phoned in to the police.

  "Hold on a second, sweetheart." He went over to where the ritual dagger had fallen, inspecting it before returning it to the sheath inside his pants. As he'd expected, there wasn't a single drop of blood on the gleaming gold blade.

  "I'm not sure I can walk all the way to Iglisia de San Pedro," Gillian said when they started out again.

  She was lucky she could walk at all.

  "I have another plan." Checking first for any police cars, they emerged on the opposite side of the passage.

  "Won't Cadamus come after us?"

  "Not while he's hurt and we're surrounded by people."

  Nick led her through the side door of the fast-food restaurant, which, according to the advertisement in the window, was open until two A.M. They seemed to be the only customers over the age of twenty and not affiliated with a particular street gang.

  He nudged Gillian toward the restrooms. "Go in and clean up a bit."

  She didn't have to be told twice. Nick did likewise.

  He washed his hands and face, using the stiff paper towels to dry off. Next, he straightened his clothing, which had taken a beating.

  The door to the men's room banged open, and Nick was joined by a tough-looking kid who glowered at him with undisguised dislike and distrust.

  Having recently stared into Cadamus's face, Nick was unimpressed by the kid's attempt to intimidate him.

  "Evening." He smiled, splashed some water on his hands and ran his wet fingers through his hair.

  The kid flipped him the bird before entering the single stall.

  When Nick was done he went in search of Gillian. A quick glance around the dining area assured him she hadn't yet emerged from the restroom. Leaning against the wall, he waited. She came out a few minutes later, tidier than when she went in but still visibly distraught.

  He stared at her, unable to tear his gaze away from her disheveled clothing and scraped hands. It struck him in that instant that if things had gone differently, if he hadn't drawn the ritual dagger and thrown it at Cadamus, he might have lost Gillian forever.

  For the first time since the day they met in her office, Nick doubted his conviction that she was his Synsar. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe he should have let her walk away when she'd suggested it instead of insisting she stay. Then, she wouldn't constantly be hurt and constantly be in danger of losing her life.

  But if he hadn't insisted she stay, they wouldn't now be together and in love.

  Hell of a choice.

  Nick closed his eyes and sagged against the wall. A minute. That was all he needed for the sledgehammer inside his head to stop pounding and the steel band around his chest to loosen.

  "Are you all right?" Gillian came over and took his hand, comforting him when he should have been comforting her. "You're shaking."

  "Am I?"

  Funny. He hadn't lost control once since the night his family had been slaughtered behind the market and Jonathan rescued him from Radlum's clutches.

  "I'm not hungry," Gillian said when Nick asked her what she wanted to eat.

  "Me either. But if we don't order something, the manager will kick us out."

  "I'm not sure that's a bad thing." She turned her head, discretely checking out their dining companions.

  "Your father once belonged to a gang."

  "Why do you think I'm scared?" she murmured. "You should hear some of the stories he's told me."

  "If the police don't storm the place in the next ten minutes, we'll leave." He propelled her ahead of him to the counter. "Come on. The rest will do us both good."

  Gillian couldn't agree more. She'd taken another licking, the second one in as many days, and Nick didn't look so hot himself.

  He'd dismissed his shaking hands as a delayed reaction to all the excitement, but she had her suspici
ons. She'd witnessed him eliminating three of the female creatures, and holding the ritual dagger to a young boy's throat. Not once did his pinky so much as twitch.

  She studied him from the corner of one eye. Something else had gotten to him tonight.

  Cadamus.

  What else could it be? And if that were the case, was Nick up to facing him in the final battle? A battle to the death. One where the entire fate of mankind rested on him winning.

  "May I help you?" a disinterested clerk inquired. "Coffee, please."

  Nick ordered a large soft drink and large fries, offering to share half with her. They found a booth both far enough away from the gang members and close enough to the door should the need arise to make a hasty escape.

  After guzzling his soda, which appeared to refresh him, Nick said softly, "My guess is either the police have stopped looking for us or never started in the first place."

  From the window beside their table they had a clear view of the street in front of the PhoenixExhibitionCenter. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. But neither had the two police cars driven away, which meant they, and the patrolmen, were still at the ExhibitionCenter.

  "We can't be sure."

  "No. But other than knocking out a guard and possibly trespassing, we didn't do anything illegal."

  "Assault and trespassing are enough to get us arrested." Gillian blew on her coffee before taking a sip.

  "No one saw us."

  "Except for the guard."

  "For a total of two seconds. In the dark. He won't remember anything." Nick reached across the table and patted her hand. "Relax. The police have a whole lot more serious crimes to worry about than one thwarted burglary attempt, which is how they'll probably write it up."

  "I suppose so." Gillian picked up a french fry, not to eat but to twirl between her fingers. The action, small as it was, helped to calm her. "Everything happened so fast. Cadamus attacked us, and the next thing I knew, I was in the air."

  "It's my fault. I should have done a better job protecting you." Nick's face hardened.

  "Are you kidding?" Gillian lowered her voice when a couple of the gang members swivelled around in their seats to glare at them. "You saved my life. If not for you, I'd be dead." She shuddered to imagine her fate had Cadamus carried her off.

  "If not for me, you wouldn't have needed saving."

  "Hey, is that what's bothering you?"

  "By asking you to be my Synsar, I've put you in danger."

  She dropped the french fry, reached across the table, and pressed her palm to his cheek. "I want to be your Synscr. My choice. The hell with destiny."

  Nick covered her hand with his and took several deep breaths before speaking. "I couldn't have done it without you."

  "We're a team."

  "We are."

  And they would be in everything else to come, except for the final battle. That was a trial Nick would have to face alone.

  A cheering thought suddenly occurred to Gillian. "Do you realize what we did tonight? What you did?" He raised an eyebrow.

  "We eliminated the last female creature. No Huntsman has ever done that before."

  "That's true." Nick's frown turned contemplative.

  They'd been too busy running from the police and then Cadamus for reality to sink in. Now that it had, Gillian's spirits lifted.

  "The creatures have been wiped out. Cadamus has no mate and can't reproduce. There'll be no future generations of little Cadamuses running around, terrorizing people. Once you beat him in battle, the war between good and evil will be over forever."

  Nick pushed the remainder of his food aside.

  "You don't agree?"

  "The war is hardly over. It's constantly being waged, everywhere, all the time."

  "Of course. I just mean the battle here, between the Huntsman and the alpha male."

  "Yeah, I guess."

  His lack of enthusiasm puzzled her. Was he fearing the final battle? Had their encounter with Cadamus tonight given him a taste of what was to come? No.

  Nick wasn't afraid. His quick reflexes and cool thinking were what saved her.

  "You're going to win, Nick."

  "I am," he said with so much confidence Gillian's concerns fled. "It's not that."

  "What then?"

  "The Ancients don't do anything without a reason." "Okay." She wasn't sure what he was getting at. He leaned forward, his arms resting on the table.

  "If we've exterminated the creatures, why did the Ancients give me Stevie to train as the next Huntress?" "Because they didn't know you'd succeed in eliminating the last female.. No Huntsman ever has."

  "I'd buy that except for one thing." "Which is ... ?"

  "They haven't spoken to me and told me not to train Stevie."

  "Do they always speak to you about everything?" "Yes. Everything that matters."

  "Give it time. Maybe they're waiting until after the final battle."

  "You could be right." He finished his soda and gave her an encouraging, if obviously insincere, smile.

  "I am right," Gillian said with what she hoped was enough commitment for the both of them. "Once you win the final battle, and you're going to, I have no doubt, the cycle will end once and for all."

  Sanctuary.

  It called to Cadamus, beckoning him to return and seek shelter in the cool, comforting darkness.

  He was unsure whether he had the strength to make it.

  He coasted along, dipping and rising in an uneven pattern. His feet brushed treetops and telephone wires as he limped past. With each flap of his wings, he fought the searing pain that all but immobilized his entire right side.

  Too low. He must gain altitude if he were to elude the humans who stared at him with their myopic, single-lens eyes, convincing themselves they were mistaken about what they saw. Pushing himself to the limits of his endurance, he ascended one agonizing foot at a time, disappearing into the safety of the night shadows.

  The hole in his right wing burned as if doused with acid. It was nothing compared to the anger consuming Cadamus, an anger matched only by the depths of his hatred.

  The human bitch lived while his own mate, the last of the three, breathed no more. For that, the human female must die. She and the Huntsman both. Cadamus was now the last of his kind. He would see to it the same fate befell the Huntsman. But not before Cadamus gave him a taste of what it was like to see one's mate slaughtered before his eyes.

  After the final battle, when those Cadamus served ruled the world, perhaps they would reward him with a new mate. They possessed extraordinary powersanything was possible.

  He ached with need for release. The females might have perished, but his body's drive to procreate did not die along with them.

  A gust of wind no greater than a mild breeze whipped around the side of a building to strike him, and he nearly tumbled from the sky, somersaulting once before righting himself.

  Rest, the Dark Ancients commanded him, so that we might heal you.

  Cadamus was only too glad to obey. He was weak and growing weaker with each passing moment. Once the Dark Ancients restored him, he would return to his sanctuary and prepare for the final battle.

  He must devise a plan. One that ensured his victory while exacting his revenge. Miguel could help. He was clever, loyal, and surprising resourceful for one so young and inexperienced.

  Small balconies jutted out from the building before Cadamus. He often observed humans standing or sitting on the ledges, engaging in frivolous activities that made no sense to him. Such an inferior race. They were like insects, living in colonies and surviving only because of their vast numbers.

  He scanned the ledges closest to him and nearest the roof, searching for one that was dark and deserted. His depleted condition didn't affect his ability to kill, but he'd rather not waste the energy when it wasn't necessary.

  Retracting his wings, he dropped onto one of the ledges with a loud, clumsy thud.

  "Hey, what was that?" a female voice from somewhe
re below called.

  "I don't know," came another voice. "Must be the air-conditioning units acting up again."

  Cadamus didn't bother reaching out to their minds. They weren't coming after him or alerting the police, that much was obvious. Stupid, stupid humans. They failed to detect danger even when it lurked right above their heads.

  His senses told him no one was inside the dwelling unit behind the glass door. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of the balcony, Cadamus leaned against the building wall and folded his wings around him. Once he was comfortably in the resting position, he opened his mind to the Dark Ancients.

  They came to him almost immediately, their soothing hands mending the torn flesh of his wing and taking away his pain. As he healed, he listened to their sweet song telling him that all was not lost. In fact, all was as it should be. When the time was right, Cadamus would know what to do.

  He dozed briefly and woke a short while later, whole and strong and with a renewed sense of purpose. He stood and spread his wings, prepared to take flight. As had been his habit these last weeks, he lifted his face to the night sky and scented the air, detecting an odor that was familiar, yet different, just as the Dark Ancients had told him he would. Instantly, a powerful hunger overtook him.

  It wasn't for food.

  Cadamus soared into the air, once again strong and nimble, and went in search of the source of the odor. He didn't travel far.

  On the other side of the building were more balconies. The odor grew stronger the higher he flew. And then he pinpointed it. On a ledge near the top.

  He ascended to a position above the balcony, well out of sight of the single occupant. There, he hovered, silently watching, his eyes adjusting perfectly to the darkness. The odor was so strong now, he could taste it on his tongue, feel it on his skin. His heart drummed in response.

  This odor was similar enough to the pheromones the female creatures emitted to inflame his senses and trigger a physiological response within him he was unable to stop. Not that he wanted to stop.

  The human woman reclined on a chaise lounge, her eyes half closed. In her hand she clasped a half-empty wineglass. It was not her first drink. Cadamus reached into her mind and learned that it had been dulled by the effects of many alcoholic beverages consumed that night. Good. She would not put up much of a fight.