Prey

by Rachel Vincent

  “Wow. How could that possibly go wrong?” Jace’s words dripped sarcasm, but I only blinked at him.

  “It’ll work because it has to work. And if not, we fight. We’ve certainly done that before.” He opened his mouth to argue some more, but I pressed one finger to his lips, ignoring the jump I heard in his pulse. “Please, Jace. Don’t argue with me. Just help me. I can’t lose Marc, too.”

  Finally, he nodded, and I removed my finger, now warm from the heat of his lips. “Fine. But Dan will have to get Marc out, because I’m not leaving without you. Even if I wanted to, Marc will kill me if we both outlive you.”

  I smiled; he was right. “Fair enough. Help Dan get Marc out the door, then stay and fight with me. That’ll make it easier for us to take Kevin alive. But for now, please take this to the car and grab the tools from Marc’s trunk. Anything that’ll work as a weapon. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

  While the guys threw the supplies into the back of the Pathfinder, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, trying to find confidence and courage in the face looking back at me. Marc had saved my ass countless times, risking his own life for mine without a second thought. It was my turn to step up, and I would not go home without him.

  Only mildly fortified by my private pep talk, I splashed cold water on my face, then grabbed my travel mug on my way out the door, dialing Vic as I went. “We found Marc,” I said, as soon as he answered his phone.

  Vic exhaled heavily in relief. “Where?”

  “Kevin Mitchell has him at Peter Yarnell’s house.” I gave him the address, and hoped he had something to write it on. “We’ll be there in twenty minutes. Meet us there as soon as you can. I have a feeling it’s gonna get ugly.”

  “No problem. But it’ll take us a good hour to get there, by the time we get out of the woods.”

  “I know. Just hurry.” We hung up, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket as I pulled open the front passenger door.

  “You should give your dad an update,” Dr. Carver said, as I slid onto the seat and pulled the door closed.

  Warm air buffeted me from the vents, and I sipped from my mug to hide my face. “I just did.”

  “And he’s okay with this?”

  “No.” If I made my dad sound too agreeable to me risking my life, the guys wouldn’t buy my story. “But he agrees that there’s no better way to play this one. And he says to be careful,” I added as an afterthought, hoping they’d attribute my physical signs of stress to the situation rather than to my lie. “He doesn’t want to plan any more funerals.”

  Jace frowned and shifted into Reverse. He glanced at the rearview mirror before twisting in his seat to back down the driveway. “I don’t think he’d agree to this if he weren’t so upset right now.” About Ethan. He left that last part unspoken, but we all knew what he meant.

  “I know.” I stared out the window at the dark, hoping that when this was all over, they’d forgive me for my lie, because this time I wasn’t simply rushing in with no forethought, fueled by passion and the delusion of immortality. I’d studied the possible outcomes and had weighed the risks. And I’d decided they were worth taking.

  For Marc.

  Twenty-Six

  This time around, we approached Peter Yarnell’s house from the back. We’d actually parked one street over, pulling Jace’s Pathfinder into a line of cars parked on the curb, then crept down the dark path between two houses, grateful that neither yard held dogs. The pooch next door had evidently gone in for the night, because Yarnell’s neighbor’s yard was silent, too.

  Dan, Jace, and I hunkered behind a row of overgrown hedges lining the back of Yarnell’s property, running along the three-foot-tall chain-link fence. I’d made Dr. Carver wait in the car; we needed him to remain in good health so he could treat Marc, and any of us who came back with injuries.

  “Dan, you go in and get Marc. Fight if you have to….” I glanced at the framing hammer hanging from the loop in his carpenter jeans. The loop on the opposite side held a tire iron. “But grab Marc as soon as you can. If he’s still unconscious, throw him over your shoulder and run.”

  He nodded uneasily, but one hand strayed to the head of his hammer like a soldier caressing his gun, ready to go to war.

  “Jace, you cover him. Go in first, as soon as you hear the shit hit the fan. Once Dan and Marc are out, come back and help me. We need Kevin unconscious, but breathing. But if Yarnell becomes a problem, kill him.” Because he’d kill either of us if given a chance. Especially once Kevin was neutralized, thus unable to stop him.

  I was going to ring the doorbell and go in like an invited guest, then start throwing punches as soon as either Kevin or Yarnell laid a hand on me. My job was to be too much for either of them to handle alone, giving Dan and Jace a chance to find Marc and get him out the door.

  Since they couldn’t go in cat form—it would be too hard to haul Marc out and knock Kevin unconscious without hands—they were both going in armed. In addition to Dan’s tools, Jace clenched a crowbar in one fist. I had no such luxury, other than the folding knife in my pocket; if I came in with an obvious weapon, they were likely to cry foul and kill Marc before my guys even made it inside. But since I’d been in Yarnell’s house before, I knew the layout of the front part of his home, and had already pinpointed several potential weapons.

  “You guys ready?” I whispered. Dan nodded, but Jace only frowned.

  “I don’t think you should go in alone.”

  I matched his scowl, adding a hint of impatience. We’d left Marc’s house twenty-two minutes ago, and though Eckard’s dot had yet to leave Yarnell’s house, it could at any moment. They’d have to leave soon to get to Kevin’s on time for the meeting we weren’t planning to show for.

  “If I don’t show up alone, they’ll kill Marc.”

  “I know. I’m just voicing one last protest for the record.”

  I nodded curtly. “Protest acknowledged.” That statement would hopefully keep Jace out of whatever trouble I got into for leading this unauthorized mission. But however my father decided to punish me, it would be worth it to have Marc back in one piece.

  “Okay, we’re out of time. Give me two minutes, then sneak up to the back door and wait until you hear me. ’Kay?”

  This time they both nodded, and finally Jace put on his game face—a familiar blend of fear and excitement, with professionally empty eyes. Only this game face was heavier than usual on the eagerness. His anger over Ethan’s death had to be expended somewhere, and Yarnell’s face was just as good a place as any.

  I smiled at them each one more time, more grateful than I could ever express that they’d come with me on this maybe-suicide mission, even under false expectations, then stood and jogged hunched over until I reached a backyard two gates away. I turned down the strip of land between the houses without looking back—I couldn’t afford to lose my nerve—then ran silently through some stranger’s side yard, grateful for the grass beneath my boots, instead of the concrete that could have been there.

  In front of the house, I jogged across a broad, flat lawn, sticking to the shadows cast by trees in the lamplight until I emerged in Yarnell’s front yard, facing the empty circle of road beyond his house. I took a moment to regulate my breathing and slow my pulse, then I tugged my leather jacket into place and felt in the right pocket of my jeans for the folding knife.

  And just as I stepped onto the front walk, directly into the light shed from the porch fixture, Yarnell’s front door opened, and Kevin Mitchell appeared, framed by light from within. As if he’d been expecting me.

  How on earth was that possible? There was no way in hell he had me tagged, so I must have been misreading him. He’d probably just recovered from his shock quickly.

  “Surprise.” I stepped forward slowly, hands in the pockets of my open jacket, hoping I looked like half the badass Ethan had considered me the day before. Because if there was any of that badass left in me, I would need it now.

  “Faythe!” Ke
vin shot me a leering grin, and behind him, a muffled voice went silent, and a door closed from somewhere in the back of the house. “Come on in.” He stepped farther onto the porch and held the screen door open for me.

  It took a lot of control to keep my pulse from racing as I brushed past him into Yarnell’s living room, now empty, thanks to the flurry of activity preceding my entrance.

  Kevin closed the front door and leaned against it, and again my heartbeat tried to rally. My inner cat hated being caged, and neither the size nor the opulence of the enclosure mattered to her. It was the blocked exit she objected to. So I placated her with a long, satisfying look at the bloodstains on Yarnell’s carpet, right in front of the couch.

  “I wish I could say I’m surprised to see you here, but that would be giving you too much credit.” Kevin crossed his arms over his chest and lied through his canines. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  I laughed, letting derision ring in my voice. “Yeah. About as much as you’re expecting the tooth fairy.” Kevin’s gaze smoldered as he tried to burn a hole through my forehead, but I only smiled. “My guess is that you were about to leave for your house. Without Marc.” Because why bother to haul around an unconscious tom, if they weren’t planning to trade him anyway…?

  “I was about to leave, but Marc’s already there waiting for you. You just missed him.”

  “You’re lying.” My smile grew, bolstered by the uneasy glint in his eyes. “I can smell him.” Because unlike some people, I took full advantage of my enhanced cat senses.

  “That’s because he was here. Pete left with him about ten minutes ago.”

  My confidence wavered. Could I really be smelling the scent lingering in his absence? The gadget in my pocket said Eckard’s microchip was in Yarnell’s house, but that meant nothing if it was no longer in Marc’s possession.

  “Fine. If Marc’s gone, there’s no reason for me to stay.” I reached out with my left hand to haul Kevin away from the door, my right fist curled around the knife in my pocket. But Kevin shook his head and batted my hand away, holding his cell phone up for me to see, like a grenade missing its pin.

  “Sit.” He gestured to the plush gray couch. “Or Marc’s dead. All it takes is one call to Pete.”

  I hesitated and inhaled deeply again, trying to judge how fresh Marc’s scent was. Had it faded a bit since I’d come in, or was I being paranoid?

  “Well?” Kevin arched one eyebrow at me, and the left side of his mouth turned up in a crooked, malicious smile. But his eyes…they were the key. He looked relieved by my doubt. Relieved that I appeared to believe him.

  Which meant he was lying.

  “Okay, let’s call Pete….” I smiled and pulled my own phone from my jacket pocket. “Allow me.” I’d added his number to my call list from the information Michael had given us before we’d come to Yarnell’s house the first time.

  Kevin’s grin froze as he tried to decide whether or not to call my bluff, but I’d lost patience. I scrolled quickly through my contacts—watching both Kevin and the kitchen doorway on the edge of my vision—and pressed Call when I got to Yarnell’s entry.

  “It’s ringing….” I said merrily, for Kevin’s benefit.

  His gaze slid to the left, toward the hallway across the room from me. And an instant later, obnoxiously twangy country music rang out from the kitchen. I took one step forward, and the granite-topped island came into view, and with it, a slim black phone buzzing on the smooth surface.

  “Oh, no!” I covered my mouth in mock horror. “It looks like Pete forgot his phone.”

  Kevin growled, and his eyes went hard with anger. “Pete, come get your damn phone,” he snapped, but his gaze never left mine. “And you…” His voice sharpened when he addressed me, as a door opened down the hall. “You put your bitch ass on that couch, or I will personally walk back there and stomp Marc’s neck beneath my foot.”

  As Peter Yarnell limped awkwardly into the living room—his good hand holding his injured ribs—I pressed the End Call button and slid my phone back into my pocket. I watched him casually, careful not to tense and clue Kevin in to my intentions. As soon as Yarnell rounded the corner into the kitchen, I leapt into motion.

  My feet pounded on thick carpet. I crossed the room into the hall in less than a second. Kevin panted behind me. Grasping fingers brushed my shoulder, then tangled in my hair. I shrieked as a strand pulled free, but kept running.

  I dashed through the open door—the last in the hallway—and slammed it shut. Kevin howled as the hollow wood panel hit his face, but I held it closed, bracing my feet against the floor. Tossing hair out of my eyes, I glanced around for something heavy to push in front of the door, just long enough for me to haul Marc out the window. But my hasty plan was born of desperation, not flawless planning, and it depended rather heavily on Marc being alone in the back bedroom.

  Which he was not. Kevin and Peter had backup.

  Damn it, Faythe! That’s what you get for trusting the bad guys to tell the truth!

  My heart beat furiously, and despair washed over me at the sight of another tall, thick tom with his back to me, bending over Marc, who lay unconscious on the floor. The assholes hadn’t even bothered to put him on the bed!

  But then I noticed the familiar cut of the tom’s jacket and the length of his dark brown waves, just as his scent penetrated my flustered brain. “Dan!” I breathed, as Kevin pounded on the door hard enough to shove me forward at least two inches.

  He stood and turned to shoot me a nervous grin. “I think he’s okay.”

  “Good. Help me block this so we can get him out of here.” I scooted to make room for Dan against the door as he crossed the room. “Jeez, you scared me. I thought you were one of them.”

  His uneasy smile faded as his hand wrapped around my arm, pulling me almost gently away from the door. “I kinda am, Faythe. I’m sorry.”

  “What?” Shock numbed me so quickly that by the time I remembered to react, he’d already pulled the door open to reveal Kevin standing in the hall with his fist poised to bang on it again, his other hand covering a nose gushing blood. “Dan, no!” I shouted, jerking free from his grip. “Don’t do this.” Glancing from one to the other, I backed up several steps, and they let me. “You know what he’s done. He implanted you with a tracking device, so his dad can spy on you whenever he wants!”

  Kevin huffed a nasal laugh. “Yeah, he volunteered for that—guinea pigs get paid extra.”

  Shit. That’s why Dan was first on the list….

  Kevin wiped his nose with the tail of his shirt, then pinched his nostrils shut, lending an odd quality to his speech. “Then he helped lure the others in with massive quantities of alcohol. Do you have any idea how much whiskey it takes to get a two-hundred-pound tom drunk enough to believe he passed out?”

  “You flea-ridden bastard!” I shrieked, fury singeing every nerve ending in my body until it felt like every inch of my skin was on fire. My fist flew before I even knew I was going to throw a punch, and blood spurted from Dan’s freshly broken nose—a matched set to Kevin’s.

  “Hold it down, unless you want to explain all this to the cops,” Yarnell said, stomping unevenly down the hallway. “I do have neighbors, you kno—” He appeared in the doorway, and his eyes widened the minute he saw the blood pouring down the front of Dan’s shirt, in spite of the stray’s best attempt to stanch it. “Fuck! My carpet!”

  For some reason, Yarnell’s surreal complaint about the ruined decor shocked me back to myself, and I darted across the room and over the twin bed against one wall. My fingers were scrabbling for purchase on the window latch when Kevin cursed behind me. “Shit, Pete, grab her!”

  Arms wrapped around my waist just as I twisted the first latch open, and I was hauled roughly off the bed and set on my feet with my arms pinned at my back. “Told you I’d see you again soon,” Yarnell whispered, his lips brushing my ear. I turned my head and pulled away from him, but he only jerked me back. “And this time it’s your
turn to scream. I had to Shift four times just to be able to stand up straight after all the ribs you cracked, and my fingers are as crooked as a country road.” He held up his hand to show me bandaged and noticeably bent digits. “And in a few minutes, you’ll be begging me to kill you.”

  “Not likely,” I growled through clenched teeth, fury flaming in my cheeks. I moved my weight onto one foot and slammed the other one into his shin, as hard as I could.

  Yarnell howled, and jerked mercilessly on my arms as he hopped on his good foot behind me. “Can we tie the bitch up?”

  “Please do.” Kevin reappeared in the doorway with an olive-colored hand towel pressed to his nose, and tossed its mate to Dan. “Tape her hands and feet and put her on the couch. When we’re done with her, she’s all yours.”

  I wanted to ask what they were going to do with me, but I couldn’t afford to appear so weak or desperate for information. So I pressed my lips together and began to walk only when Yarnell shoved me forward, viciously twisting my shoulder in the process.

  On my way out of the room, I got a glimpse of Marc. Not much, but enough to be sure he was breathing. For the moment, anyway.

  “Where’s Jace?” I demanded, and as we passed the third door, Yarnell shoved it open to reveal Jace lying on the bare floor of another, smaller spare room, his breathing soft and even, his hands and feet heavily bound with acres of duct tape. Dan had probably knocked him out the moment I was out of sight, and they’d no doubt made it into the house before I’d even gotten to the front yard. Which meant…

  “You knew we were here the whole time?” I asked, when Yarnell pushed me into the living room. In one smooth motion, he pulled my jacket off and tossed it over the arm of a chair, then pinned my wrists again before I could swing around for a shot at him.