by Kasi Blake
They climbed into the jeep. Because he was a trained hunter Trick made a point to notice everything. There were hamburger wrappers in the backseat, several crumpled maps, some weapons, and a radio beneath the dashboard that picked up police chatter.
Bash drove over the speed limit and only used one hand on the steering wheel.
“I want to hear about my father.”
Trick waited; Bash ignored the statement.
“Second lesson, preparing for battle,” Bash said. “Every hunter has their own way of getting ready. Some lift weights. Some meditate or read or do yoga. Your father used to clean his guns in a certain order and kick back with a beer. I enjoy a long drive with loud music drowning out every other sound.”
Yet another thing they had in common.
Bash turned the radio on and cranked up the volume.
Trick settled back in his seat, content not to talk for a while. Every time he found another thing they had in common it made him feel like he was on the right path. Bash was the perfect teacher for him. He was on his way to becoming a great hunter, and nothing would get in his way.
♫
“Show me what you can do,” Bash said.
Trick stood a few feet in front of the legendary hunter on a narrow gravel road with nothing but open space on either side. Miles from the downtown area, there wasn’t anything interesting to see except the hills leading up to Virginia City. Melted snow had left dead grass, mud, and puddles of cold water behind.
“What are we doing here?” Trick asked while making his teeth chatter.
“Did you think I would take you straight into battle with me without knowing what you can do?” Bash asked.
The hunter wanted to test his abilities. Sounded reasonable. Trick tried to hide his disappointment. He had been desperate for a kill since Oberon cursed him and almost got him to attack Dani.
Bash started him off easy. The guy pulled a dummy from his jeep and set it on a wooden base a few feet from the road. The dummy consisted of wood, a smattering of cotton batting, and a football jersey. Its head, carved out of wood, had blank facial features. Whoever made it hadn’t bothered to paint it to look like a person. The dummy ended at the waist. That was where the wooden base began.
Bash called out moves, and Trick did his best to comply. The cotton didn’t help much when it came to protecting Trick’s hand. Every time he hit the thing pain shot up his arm. His fingers were on the verge of cracking. Knowing he could heal from anything made him more reckless.
Trick reined in his supernatural abilities. Each fist he threw had a fraction of strength behind the hit. It would be easy to get carried away, especially with Bash cheering him on, but he also knew the risk. If Bash and the other hunters found out he was a vampire, he’d be a dead one.
“Enough,” Bash said. “Let’s try you on a live target, someone who can hit back.”
Finally. Trick hopped around like a boxer ready to take on a new opponent. He scanned the area, hoping to see a monster coming at them. The hunter had to have something in mind. “Where is my target?”
Bash grinned. “You’re looking at him.” The hunter removed a long red ribbon from his pocket and tied it around his own wrist. “Take it from me... if you can.”
Trick blinked. “Come again?”
“If you can take this red scrap off my wrist, you win.”
“And if I can’t?”
“I’ll pack my bag and hit the road, and you can find yourself another hunter to train you.”
A lump of hot coal formed in Trick’s stomach. The same panic he’d felt the night his dad left him at the gypsy’s house came close to choking him. The image of his father’s face hovered in the back of his mind, but he shoved it aside. He could hear Baxter’s voice loud and clear. “What’s wrong, Patrick? Are those abandonment issues rearing up again?”
He swallowed hard and nodded at Bash. Taking the red ribbon off the hunter’s wrist wouldn’t be a problem if he could use his powers. He was a vampire with faerie magic in his veins. He had supernatural speed and strength, not to mention the ability to tap into power he didn’t quite understand yet. Problem was, he needed to fight like a mortal boy of nearly eighteen.
Trick slowly circled the hunter.
Bash stood still, legs spread wide, but he didn’t raise his fists. The hunter was waiting for Trick to make the first move. He didn’t turn with Trick, but it was obvious he was aware of Trick’s location. It was like the guy was a Jedi using the power of the Force.
The problem was, Bash knew where Trick’s focus was: the ribbon. If he went for it, the hunter would simply hit him with his other hand. His father had told him to fight smart, not hard. Maybe it was time for him to listen.
A plan formed in the back of his mind. It would take patience, physical endurance, and a bit of luck to pull it off. Trick took a deep breath and launched into action. He jumped on the hunter’s back.
Bash sent him sailing through the air.
Trick landed hard on the ground, but he remembered to roll. Back on his feet in a blink, he attacked from the front. They fought toe to toe for what seemed an eternity. The hunter blocked every punch, kick, and jab Trick threw.
Bash didn’t break a sweat. He looked well-rested as if he’d just returned from a spa day while Trick was near exhausted. Something was wrong with him. Since becoming a vampire he didn’t tire as easily as he used to, so why was he on the verge of collapse?
The curse Oberon had put on him might be broadening to include his physical powers. He was at a definite disadvantage now. Could he use magic without the hunter noticing?
Bash decided to stop playing defense, and he hit Trick in the face. Punch after punch drove Trick back with stumbling steps. The taste of his own blood teased his tongue. Surging hunger dared him to sink his fangs into Bash’s throat. The guy was the size of a car and had more blood in his veins than the average man. Trick wanted to feast on every drop.
Another hit to the face snapped him out of the dangerous daydream. Bash was not someone he wanted to kill. A dead hunter couldn’t train him. Besides that, John Foster’s group knew Bash was spending time with him. If Bash turned up dead, Trick was the first person they would interrogate. He also didn’t want to hurt Bash because he’d been his father’s friend.
Bash punched him again, and Trick went down. His legs buckled, and he fell on the cold ground. Eyes closed, he held his breath. Hopefully, the hunter would be fooled. Collapsing was the final step of his plan. If it worked, he’d win the battle in another few seconds.
“Hey!” Bash yelled as he pushed at Trick’s leg with the toe of his boot. When Trick didn’t stir, Bash kicked him a little harder. “Get up. Let’s finish this.”
Trick worked to keep his breaths shallow and eyelids closed.
Bash leaned down over him. “Hey, you still with me?”
Breathe in and out.
In and out.
Bash’s hands pressed against his chest, grabbed the material of his shirt, and shook him.
Trick popped one eye open so he could see the hunter’s hands clearly. Without hesitation, he pulled the ribbon free. Then he shoved the stunned hunter back and jumped to his feet. Waving the ribbon high over his head, he said, “I win. You have to train me.”
“You cheated.”
“I followed your instructions. Are you keeping to the deal or not?”
Bash sighed. “I am a man of my word.”
“Good.” Trick touched his face while wondering how bad he looked. If he healed in front of Bash, that would tip the hunter off for sure. He left the blood to dry on his face to conceal the repairing damage. “We need to reach an understanding,” Trick said. “No more cat and mouse. No more tests. From now on we hunt, and you tell me stories about my father.”
They stood there in silence, sizing each other up until Bash agreed to the terms. “There is one more thing I want from you.”
“What’s that?” Trick asked, worried.
“Show me some magic.”
T
he proverbial ground opened beneath Trick’s feet. Too bad he couldn’t conjure a magical exit from this conversation. He could play dumb or outright deny the carefully crafted accusation. “Magic?” His eyes narrowed. “What are you asking me to do?”
“Your father saved my butt more than once by burning werewolves with his hand. He had skill. That’s why I worked with him.” Bash folded muscular arms over his solid chest. “Can you offer the same protection if I get in over my head?”
“I told you before I’ve never set anything on fire, but I’m willing to try.”
“Yes. Try. Now.”
Surprised by the softly spoken command, Trick glanced at their surroundings. “Guess I could set the dummy on fire.”
“Do it.”
Trick went to the dummy and placed a hand on it in the same way he’d seen his father do to werewolves. Nothing happened. He screwed up his face and concentrated as hard as he could. Still nothing. He tried again and again to no avail.
“I can’t,” Trick finally said. “Maybe I didn’t inherit that power.”
Bash squinted. “Do you have other powers, maybe something your father couldn’t do?”
The hunter was losing interest in him. Trick saw it in the man’s eyes. If Trick didn’t give him something good, Bash would walk away. He didn’t care that his entire hunting group wanted Trick on their side. Bash would get in his jeep, drive away, and leave Trick in the dust.
After taking a deep breath Trick revealed his oldest secret. “When I’m in danger, I can make a trapdoor appear, an escape hatch. I saved my father’s life with it once.”
A wide grin spread across Bash’s face. “Now that’s what I was looking for. You may be useful, after all.”
The hunter drove Trick back to his house with loud music playing the whole way. Neither of them spoke. Trick stole a couple glances at the hunter’s profile. Jaw tight and dark eyes barely blinking as he drove, Bash looked angry. Trick tried not to take it personally. Bash didn’t have any reason to be mad. He’d gotten what he wanted, a hunting partner with faerie magic.
The passenger side mirror showcased the dummy they’d left behind. It went up in flames. Trick’s breath caught. Had he set the dummy on fire while not touching it?
♫
CHAPTER TWELVE
Where Have All the Cowboys Gone
Trick teleported to his favorite guest room in the mansion after Bash dropped him off. Spots of blood decorated his shirt with a gruesome pattern. His blood, courtesy of Bash using him as a punching bag. Fortunately, he’d left a change of clothes with the vampires for just such an emergency. No way could he go home looking like he had gone on a killing spree. Besides, the smell of blood had set off a ripple of hunger pangs in his stomach. Maybe Cowboy was right and he needed to feed more often. Thinking he wouldn’t have to live a vampire lifestyle was naive.
After he changed his shirt he hurried downstairs to find his new friend. Raised voices led him to the living room where Cowboy and Scarlet were arguing. They’d been doing that a lot lately. He hesitated near the entrance, not wanting to get sucked into their domestic dispute. They were fighting over... a cat?
Trick peeked around the corner.
Scarlet had a beautiful white Persian in her arms. She was too angry, too focused on Cowboy to notice Trick standing in the doorway. While stroking the cat’s shaggy fur, she turned her body sideways, shielding the cat. “If you even think about using this cat as a blood bag, I will stake you in your sleep.”
Cowboy threw his hands up in a violent gesture. “For the fifteenth time, I did not bring that feline home to kill it. Vampires keep cats to warn them werewolves are coming. The only reason we didn’t already have a cat is cause the doggies were supposed to be gone. Now that we know they aren’t, we need a cat. End of story.”
“She’s staying in my room.” Scarlet kissed the top of the cat’s head as it purred softly. “I’m calling her Princess.”
Cowboy made a rude noise. “What sort of fruity name is that?” His eyes narrowed. “And what gives you the nerve to name my cat?”
“She’s mine now,” Scarlet said. “I’ll protect her from you. Don’t worry. If she warns me werewolves are at the door, I’ll let you know.”
Trick wondered if he should step in or just let them fight. Scarlet had been avoiding him since their kiss. He didn’t want to get sucked into a deep conversation, but he didn’t like the way things were between them. It had never been this bad, not even when he’d forgotten to meet her for hunting cause he was watching Dani cheer at a football game. When Scarlet got mad, she usually yelled at him until her face turned red. Sometimes she’d make violent gestures as if she was on the brink of killing him.
Now, she wouldn’t even talk to him. How was he supposed to make things right when she wouldn’t give him a chance? He sent her texts that went unanswered, and she walked the other way at school every time she saw him in the hallway. Somehow he needed to fix their relationship. There had to be a way for them to be friends again.
Cowboy shouted, “What if I just rip your stupid throat out and take my bloody cat?”
“Try it!” Scarlet yelled. “Please. I would love to have an excuse to stake you.”
Alarmed, Trick crossed the threshold to break up what he feared would be a double homicide in progress.
Cowboy bared his fangs and snarled.
Scarlet reached for the stake secured to her ankle while holding the cat with her other arm.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Trick inserted himself between them. “What is the matter with you two? We’re on the same side.”
They gaped at him.
“How do you figure?” Cowboy asked, fangs visible. “She’s in my house and in my face. I did you a favor by letting her have a key, but she wasn’t supposed to be here every second of every damn day.”
Trick let the exaggeration go unchallenged. They all knew Scarlet wasn’t there that often. She had school five days a week and spent time at home with her dad. “You bought this place with my money. My inheritance paid for it. You said so yourself.”
Cowboy growled deep in his throat.
Scarlet jabbed the air with her finger. “This cat is under my protection, and you will leave her alone. Understood?”
She started to walk out, made it to the doorway, but Trick grabbed her from behind. Hands on her shoulders, he desperately searched for something to say. What magical words would convince her to forgive him? They needed to discuss the kiss, like it or not. That single moment of time stood between them like an invisible wall.
“Stay,” he said.
He thought she would knock his hands away and take off running. When she didn’t, it gave him hope. Her shoulders sagged beneath his palms, and she sort of leaned back against him for a second.
Slowly, she turned to face him. Her eyes misted over; they sparkled like blue diamonds. She blinked at him, giving him the option of what to do next. His gaze dropped to her mouth, soft and pink, bare from cosmetic enhancement. Those lips had caused a lot of trouble.
He tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t fuel her anger. For some reason, he found himself having to talk about his feelings a lot lately. Maybe it was because he hated doing it so much. According to his biological father, girls wallow in feelings while boys spring into action. But if he didn’t talk to Scarlet, he might lose her forever.
“I miss hanging out with you,” he admitted.
“You miss having a hunting buddy. That’s all I am to you.”
“Wrong. I’ve been hunting with Bash.”
Her jaw dropped. “You got him to agree to train you?”
Trick beamed at her. “Jealous?”
“Damn straight. I want in. Can you get him to train me too?”
A better question was, did he want to share his warrior-teacher with her? What if Bash told him stories about his father? Did he want Scarlet to hear them? Stalling, he shrugged and changed the subject. “I met my brother’s wife.”
Scarlet�
�s mouth formed a big ‘O’ while her eyes grew wide. She let the cat go. Princess landed on all four paws. Her hands landed on his folded arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Within a blink, they went from strained former hunting partners to best friends again. “You have to tell me everything.” After he nodded she said, “I’m still mad at you for spying on my thoughts.”
“I know.”
“And for being a jerk in general.”
“I know,” he repeated.
“Want to stay here tonight?” she asked. “We can catch up.”
“We need a private place to talk.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Summer is still in hiding, isn’t she?”
“If Cowboy will just mind his own business...” She looked over Trick’s shoulder and her facial muscles froze. “Where’d he go?”
Trick spun around.
The large room was empty, and the terrace doors were locked from the inside. They didn’t need to worry about getting rid of the vampire for the evening. He had teleported out. Funny how he didn’t stick around to make them uncomfortable. That wasn’t like him. Perhaps the vampire was changing, growing. They could always hope.
The cat hissed at Trick before running from the room.
Scarlet reached for Trick’s hand. “You want to go to the kitchen and grab some snacks?”
“What have you got?”
She went over a list of goodies while leading him through the doorway. He forgot about Cowboy’s sudden disappearance. The upcoming conversation weighed on his mind as he tried to decide how much he wanted to tell her. Should he admit Silver didn’t want him to meet his brother? What about the blood she’d given him? Should he share that or keep it secret?
And what about Oberon?
Should he tell her about his curse?
♫
“Very funny,” Cowboy said. “Ha ha ha.”
Trick and Scarlet left the room without acknowledging he’d spoken, so he followed them. If the two idiots wanted to play games, that was fine with him. He knew a few tricks. No one could ignore him for long.
Walking ten steps behind them, he talked as loud as he could without yelling. “Hey, Scar. Do you have any idea how big your butt is from this angle? Maybe you should lay off the donuts.”
