They were silenced gunshots. Even with her advanced hearing abilities she could discern that.
They are here. The hunters are here.
Panic gripped her tightly by the throat, and for a moment, she felt she wouldn’t be able to breath. Shouting soon followed, and Rose snapped out of it.
“Fuck.” She cursed beneath her breath and turned from the door to the bathroom.
* * *
“We’re in deep shit!” Glen shouted to Aidan.
The boy had been halfway asleep at his post and was startled awake by the yell. The many monitors in front of him had gone snowy, and he started when he saw that. Glen stood in the doorway, in just his blue jeans. A light sheen of sweat shone on his bare chest.
He had gone to take a short nap in hopes that seventeen-year-old Aidan could take over the watch guard duties. He had been sorely mistaken. The young boy had dozed where he was supposed to be watching the monitors and now there wasn’t sufficient warning for what was happening now.
The hunters were here. They were inside, and they didn’t have much time to act.
“Fuck!” Aidan exclaimed. He grabbed his 380 from the table in front of him and cocked it, holding it ready. His eyes had become wide with fear. Glen regarded him with a serious gaze.
“They’ve just now entered,” he whispered. His back was against the wall, but his head was turned toward the door. He listened. “They didn’t see me, but I saw them. There are four of them through the front entrance. I don’t think there are any more, but I’m not sure. They’re moving fast. We’ve got to warn the others.”
Aidan’s hands shook as he stood on the other side of the door. He closed his eyes a moment. Sweat had already begun on his brow. Glen could smell the strong fear scent emanating from him. His heart pounded loudly, but he forced it to calm down.
At the same time the very familiar sound of a silenced gun found its way to Glen’s sensitive ears, and the man balked in the doorway. The sound of something shattering reached him next. He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest.
Someone had just been shot, he was absolutely sure of it. A quick succession of muffled gunfire confirmed it.
Quickly, the werewolf sought to control his temper and he threw a meaningful glance at the boy across from him. His young face was pale, and his large eyes were even wider with terror. His hand shook.
“Aidan…” Glen spoke in a low whisper. “I want you to head for the top floor. Warn Jason and Rose, and then stick with them, okay? Take the back stairs. Rose knows how to get out from up there.”
The boy nodded his head. He shook so much he could barely get his words out. “What if I run into one of them?”
“Shoot first, ask questions later. I’ll hold them off long enough for you to get upstairs…got it?” Glen stared at the boy, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement.
“Got it?” he repeated, more fiercely this time, when Aidan didn’t move. The boy jumped and then nodded nervously.
“Okay. Go!”
The boy took off at a quick run and rushed down the hall. His footfalls echoed loudly on the wood floor.
Some precog, Glen thought bitterly for a moment and then put the thought aside. After all, it wasn’t Aidan’s fault he hadn’t received some sort of warning. He was still young and just learning his abilities and Glen was under the impression Aidan was still grieving over the death of his mother. He couldn’t really blame him; after all, he had gone through something similar. There wasn’t time to think about that at the moment.
The damn hunters were storming into his home.
Glen cocked his Beretta and stepped out from where he had been hiding. He spied two of the hunters standing near the door as they began to move down the large corridor toward the kitchen.
He took aim, but not before he was spotted. Bullets ripped past him and hit the wall just behind him as he ducked for cover.
“We’ve got one!” one of the men shouted, and his buddy soon joined him in firing at Glen.
Glen was quick as he moved away from the men. Somehow he dodged the barrage of bullets raining at him. Splintered wood and dry wall flew into the air and obscured his view. He clenched his teeth together, lowered his head and turned a corner.
He was fucked.
Glen found a place to hide behind a grandfather clock, but it wouldn’t conceal him for long. He turned himself sideways, so he could get a clear shot when the time came, cocked his gun and listened.
“Don’t let him get away!” A commanding voice called. “Find him! You! Finish checking the rooms!”
“Yes, sir!”
“On it!” someone answered and there were sounds of footfalls racing toward him.
Glen shifted his position and leaned down until he was almost prone against the floor and took aim. His un-silenced gun let out a loud, thunderous bang as the bullet erupted and lodged itself perfectly in the man’s upper body. Blood sprayed into the air. Its scent combined with fear and sweat.
It wasn’t a fatal shot, and the man was still able to swing his gun. Glen had just given away his position. If he didn’t do something quick, the man would have him. He fired again and this time the bullet sunk into a spot in the chest.
The man let out a cry of pain and crumpled to the floor. His free hand rested on the gaping wound in the chest. His vest and shirt quickly became red with blood. He looked shocked. His gun fell from his hand.
Glen stood and watched as the man fell face first into the floor. The blood began to pool beneath him and stained the once beautiful hardwood flooring. He curled his lip in distaste.
But he wasn’t out of danger yet.
A tall man stood at the end of the hall and faced Glen, and the werewolf found himself frozen in his spot as he stared at him. His eyes narrowed.
* * *
The men’s shouts did little to startle Jason. He listened from his spot in the hallway and knew just what was going on. He had just started to move back to the stairs when they had entered and he quickly found a place to hide and observe.
There were four of them and Davis was among them. Jason recognized him first by the bandaged head. They carried about them the scent of fear and sweat, but also something else, but he couldn’t place it. They were nervous. He ducked out of sight and composed himself. He had to think of some sort of plan.
Then the gunshots had started and not too far from where he stood. They were using silencers and the shots were only slightly muffled to him. When Jason turned his head to see the commotion, he noticed the door to a room was wide open.
Something broke and the tinkling sound of shattered glass falling against a hard surface prompted him to move. He tightened his grip on the black handle of the katana he had swiped from the wall display and moved forward, swiftly and silently on his bare feet.
The others were busy moving away. There was a scuffle, Jason heard, of someone running down a hall opposite of him, but he didn’t concentrate on that. Men were shouting from somewhere else in the house, and gunfire started again.
Jason didn’t have time to think. He waited by the open door of the room. The scent of freshly spilled blood knocked him nearly senseless for a brief moment, but he soon composed himself.
Once the heavy gunfire had begun elsewhere, the hunter inside the room stepped out to join his comrades. He never got past Jason.
The steel blade of the sword sunk deep within the man’s gut and exited through the middle of the back. The hunter, a man looking to be about Jason’s age, gasped and dropped the weapon he had been poised to use.
Jason’s face was close to the man’s and he stared at the hunter’s face. Blood was warm and sticky as it seeped out from the stomach wound. It bled so much, but Jason held the katana in place, pushing it in more.
The man groaned and blood had begun to drip from his mouth. He tried in vain to grab at Jason, but his hold was slack, and his hand soon fell useless to the side.
Jason’s breath was hot against the man’s face. His hands were
covered in the warm and sticky blood. It stained them red. It covered the front of his chest now and dripped onto the floor at his feet.
But he would not let go of the katana. He would not remove it from the man until he was satisfied. The man was transfixed with fear.
And Jason’s satisfaction came shortly. The man’s eyes lolled in his head and Jason withdrew the sword with a sharp jerk. The man dropped to his knees, once more trying to grab at Jason. He stepped back. The man fell forward, dead.
The katana dripped blood onto the floor. Jason stared at it and at the fallen hunter. His eyes narrowed. He had little time to savor his victory. The men were shouting and footfalls were coming this way. Jason quickly grabbed the man’s fallen gun and an extra clip. He put both into the waistband of his jeans.
He heard more gunshots and then a woman’s scream. It was quickly silenced with another shot. The female scream prompted something within him. Horror gripped Jason, as an image from a dreadful dream entered his mind, Rose, lying dead, and blood pooling from her lifeless form. Silver bullets sparkled around her.
He had to get to her and fast. He couldn’t let that happen.
Ignoring the dead hunter at his feet, Jason turned back toward the staircase. He exercised caution as always. His feet were silent as he crept along the floor. The only sounds coming from him were his fast paced breathing and the soft pattering of blood as it dripped onto the floor.
He stood stationary a moment and listened to see if the coast was clear. It was. He headed up the front staircase, taking the steps two at a time, completely unaware that a pair of grey eyes followed his every move.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Beretta lay on the floor, in the darkness, in the corner where Jason had been during his close rage shift. Rose quickly swiped it up and as she did, she remembered briefly the last time she had held a gun. She had killed a man with it, and she had a sinking feeling she was going to have to do it once more. She didn’t want to.
She was barefoot, but it was an advantage. During times in her childhood, she and Glen would sneak down the hardwood corridors in their sock-clad feet, or in the bare skin, to avoid being heard by others there. This time, it was more serious than a child’s curiosity of sneaking around after bedtime. This was dangerous. This was serious.
A woman’s scream jerked Rose out of her state of shocked stupor, and her heart once more pounded loudly. The scream fell silent, and she feared the worst.
Who was it? Mary? Anna? Rose had no idea. It had happened too suddenly.
She held the Beretta tightly and continued toward the door. Any second now, she was sure it would burst open. She thought about it and held the gun out at arm’s length. She wanted to be ready.
Fear held tightly to her and Rose felt the beating of her heat jump into her throat, restricting her ability to swallow. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry.
The Beretta was a foreign thing in her hands and she held it as steadily as she could with trembling hands. Her aim was focused shakily on the door. She edged toward it.
A strand of her tangled hair fell across her face. She blew it out of the way with heated breath. She tried to soften her breathing. It sounded loud and she was sure someone could hear her. Rose finally was able to swallow, but there was a strange aftertaste in her mouth. It was too dry and bitter.
The sound of heavy footfalls came to a stop outside her door. Rose took two steps back and cocked the gun back. She tried to steady the Beretta, but it was shaking too badly. She would be lucky if she could even fire in the right direction. She wasn’t ready.
The doorknob jiggled, turned, and light flooded in. For a moment, she was blinded, but she had the gun raised. Her finger began to ease back on the trigger. She couldn’t see who it was.
It was the dark shadow of someone, someone who stank of fear and sweat, and she immediately recognized the scent. She lowered the Beretta and let out a breath. She could see him now.
Aidan stared at her, his eyes like huge saucers. He held his own gun aimed at her. Rose found that his hands shook just as badly as hers were.
“Oh God, I almost shot you,” she breathed. Aidan lowered his weapon and threw a wary glance over his shoulder.
“Glen told me to warn you. Where’s Jason?” He looked around, bewildered. Once more, he glanced behind him at the door. His blue-green eyes turned to her.
“I don’t know,” Rose answered. “What’s going on down there?”
Aidan shook his head. “Hunters. We have to get out. Glen said you knew a way out.”
Rose nodded and then furrowed her brow in thought. It had been so long since she had been here, but she remembered the pathway like the back of her hand. It wasn’t too far.
“Let’s go. We can’t waste time.” Rose picked up her pace and moved at a quick walk. She stopped at the door, just long enough to check outside. It was clear. She motioned Aidan forward, and they started down the hall, toward the front staircase. They’d have to pass it in order to get around the back.
Once more, she felt some pangs of guilt as she looked back at the boy following behind her, but there was too much shit going on for her to apologize or to talk about what had happened with his mother. There was no time. They moved fast.
Gunfire still issued from downstairs and Rose didn’t look to see what was going on. She could smell blood and she felt sick at the scent. It was too much. Rose bent low and ducked behind the banisters as she moved.
A figure was coming up the steps, covered in blood, and Rose, for a moment, thought she would die of shock. She uttered a soft gasp. Aidan had already grabbed his gun and aimed it at the individual. Quickly, Rose grabbed Aidan’s pistol and lowered it before he had a chance to discharge it.
It was Jason. He stood at the top of the steps. He regarded her with his wolfen gaze. He was covered in fresh blood and the smell of it was thick. Rose once more felt the wave of nausea pass her. It wasn’t his blood. Thankful that the blood wasn’t from any injury he had sustained, she placed a hand on her chest, over her heart, as if to still its heavy beating.
“What happened to you?” She hardly whispered the words.
Jason didn’t look like himself. The katana he held in his left hand dripped a steady stream of fresh blood onto the step. His hair was wild looking. He looked like something from a cheap horror movie.
“There were four of them that came in the front way,” he said. He ignored her inquiry. He offered a hand to her. It was bloody and wet, but Rose took it and stood.
“I killed one of them. I don’t know where the others are.”
“Where is everyone?” she asked. Aidan glanced over the banister at the foyer below them. Jason knew she was asking about the PRDI researchers but he looked callous and gave a shake of his head.
“I don’t know. I heard a woman scream. I thought, for a moment, it was you…”
“We’ve got company!” Aidan said suddenly. Rose spun around and looked over the banister railing. She could see a man making his way toward the stairs.
He looked slightly familiar. His black hair fell limply into his eyes. She had seen him before, at the hotel, and she wrinkled her nose as she tried to catch him scent. It was overpowered by the stench of blood, but something was off…
Jason glared at him.
“Davis,” he muttered. He turned to Rose. “You two go on without me. I have some unfinished business to attend to.” His eyes were still golden but they continued to hold a slight resemblance of humanity. They pleaded silently with her. “Go!”
Rose ignored Davis and didn’t hesitate. She pressed herself close to her mate. She didn’t care about the blood, or the dangerous gleam in his eye. She knew this was the deciding moment. Everything from here on would be sketchy. Nothing was certain any more. Their very lives could end here and now.
She pressed her lips to his in a deep kiss and he pulled her back. He stared at her, confused.
“Go, Rose,” he said in a softer tone. His face was unreadable when Rose looked upon
it. Tears blurred her vision. “You don’t have much time. I’ll catch up with you soon. Just go!” His hand was gripping her upper arm tightly, staining her T-shirt red, and he released her. He pushed her away from him.
Rose hesitated a moment. A wave of hurt stung her, but her eyes shifted to the man who climbed the steps quickly. All thought of uncertainty left her.
“Come on,” she said to Aidan, and together the two of them began to run down the hall. Aidan’s boots made loud, clunking footfalls, and Rose’s bare feet barely made any sound at all.
Jason gave a flick of the katana and a line of red spilled across the floor as he turned to face the approaching hunter. A cynical grin spread across his face.
* * *
Glen’s eyes narrowed and they seemed to glow in the surrounding darkness. The wolfen gaze hardly penetrated the man who stood down the hall from him. The man only stood there, staring.
And something about him caused the hairs on the back of Glen’s neck to stand straight up. It was something about his scent, something about the way he held himself…
It was like a cowboy showdown Glen had watched one time on television when he was a kid. The good guy and the bad guy faced each other in the middle of an empty street. Their fingers itched at their sides, ready at any second to draw a gun. The fastest draw always won.
And for some reason, Glen felt he wasn’t going to beat this guy, even with a gun already drawn.
The man’s face was cold and his lips curled into an unforgiving smile. His black hair reflected the dim hall light. He would’ve blended into the shadows well. He was clad in black, save for his face and even his hands were covered in black leather gloves. A pistol was in a holster at his side. Glen recognized the firearm as a SIG P220. He narrowed his eyes more.
“You killed one of my men.” The hunter’s low voice rang out through the hall.
“Kill or be killed,” Glen answered. “It’s one of the laws of nature.” His voice held just a slight tremor. His grip tightened on the Beretta. “I just did what I had to do.”
Sweet Moon Dreams Page 21
