The Hunt: Complete Edition

by Anne Marsh

  Still, maybe my companion can be useful after all. At the very least, he’s a buffer. I originally thought I was the only living thing in the lava tube. My mistake. The walls are alive, seething with minute insects sizing me up for their next meal. That, or they’re going to wait for me to season like Ifrit-boy. In addition, I’m fairly certain I spotted movement on the bottom of the tube as well; hopefully, whatever lurks down there can’t climb.

  “Sorry, lover.” Just in case the dead guy still has feelings—or was inconsiderate enough to leave a death spirit hanging about—an apology is simply good strategy. Reaching around what was once an impressively large male body, I snap a long arm off at the elbow. Mountain climbers do it all the time, right?

  Right. Who am I kidding?

  Eyeing the razor-sharp end of the bone with some misgivings, I jam the ivory shaft as far as I can into the smooth wall of the tube.

  Which amounts to about two inches. Hell.

  At this rate, I’ll be an old woman before I get anywhere. Climbing, clearly, is out of the question. Wrapping my arm around the Ifrit’s throat, I lean backward cautiously, angling for a better look at my surroundings. Slick, steep walls. Yeah, I’m in an old lava tube, all right. Qaf is nothing but one giant fubar as far as I’m concerned.

  Lovely.

  This close to escape, and all I can do is sit and wait for someone else to come and save me. Sitting and waiting is not my thing. So—I tap a finger against the Ifrit’s moldering chin while I think—what can I do? If I can’t rappel upward and going down isn’t an option—because there is definitely some sort of mass movement occurring at the bottom of the tube—what can I do?

  I could always wait for Jafar to come back.

  Right. As if I’d be so foolish. Counting on someone else to come and rescue me.

  But he did come all the way to Qaf, didn’t he? a small voice whispers. It isn’t as if he let me go my own merry way and screw the consequences. No, he’s still trying to protect me.

  Acting as if he really is my mate. Which he isn’t. He can’t be.

  I’m a thief. He’s a Guardian. Opposites. And I’ve never really been one for the whole “opposites attract” thing.

  Desperate times call for desperate measures. If I can’t get myself out of here, all I can do is wait for the Cat to come back. If he decides I’m worth bothering with—and, despite his rough-sweet words of affection, I really don’t know. Perhaps I’ve finally pissed him off one too many times.

  Hmmm. If Jafar’s cloak reached me, then I must be within ten feet or so of the top. If I could gain a couple of feet, perhaps jumping becomes an option. Right, then. Gingerly, I crawl up the Ifrit’s torso, using his exposed bones as handholds. When I reach his shoulders, though, my luck changes.

  And not for the better. With a sharp crack, the bone beneath my foot gives and I slip. Straight down the dead man’s torso. Frantically, I grab handfuls of his clothes, yanking my body against his. Ick. With a disgusting click, his leg bone leaves its socket. Fortunately for me—unfortunately for him—when he fell, he impaled himself on a convenient spike of rock projecting from the wall.

  “How in the hell do these things happen to me?”

  I’m not getting out.

  Not on my own.

  Since there’s nothing else to do, I settle for rummaging through the dead guy’s pockets. Perhaps he packed some nice sharp climbing spikes or an extra rope.

  “Whatcha got for me?”

  Not much, is the answer. Pretty slim pickings. I’ve done better rolling the drunks at the tea gardens. All my search turns up is a spartan handful of unfamiliar copper coins and a small, flat medallion that hums faintly with mazhyk. That last is interesting. I slide the lot into my pocket and consider my next move.

  Cat better hurry up. Sand and loose rock start to pour into the tube from above. Eventually, I’m looking at a cave-in. That, or, in about five years, there will be enough detritus at the bottom of the tube for me to just stand up and step out.

  The sounds of fighting grow closer.

  And the dead Ifrit slips an inch. Oh, hell. All the concussions shaking the ground are finally knocking the guy loose. From somewhere comes the feral roar of a Cat in full attack mode. For some inexplicable reason, the sound makes me feel safe, and isn’t that crazy, hanging from the wall of a lava tube in a dead man’s arms? More sounds echo from above me. Curses. My ride is definitely approaching.

  Looking my dead Ifrit in the eye, I wonder if dead guys are any good at giving advice. Probably not.

  “You think I should trust him?” I look down at the pile of bones and old rags at the bottom of the pit. “Trust can be a bitch. Was that what got you into this?”

  Not surprisingly, the dead guy doesn’t answer me.

  Nevertheless, the answer has been creeping up on me for some time now, and since I can’t run, all I can do is admit the truth. No matter how strange it sounds when I say it out loud.

  “I love him. I love my damn Cat.”

  “Good.” Jafar’s face appears abruptly over the side, and a rope hisses through the air to land by my face. “Delighted to hear it. Applaud your sentiments and the charming change of heart. Now move your sweet little ass. We’re about to have company.”

  A powerful emotion I’m not quite ready to name sweeps through me as I climb the rope. If I were the labeling kind of female, I might call it elation. Or joy. Or any one of several deliriously happy sentiments that I’m not acknowledging.

  Not now. Knowing that our lives are in serious jeopardy is a buzz kill.

  Hard hands wrap around my forearms, yanking me out of the tube. The damn tube he threw me into. Yeah, I owe him for that one. But he doesn’t stop pulling once he has me out. Despite the earthshaking concussions and a whole lot of uproar coming from the tunnel from which he’s apparently just sprinted, he pulls me straight up against his hot, hard form. His mouth seeks mine in a kiss that makes liquid heat blaze through my veins. Gods, I missed him.

  And he was only gone ten minutes.

  Reality check.

  So what if I had my doubts that the man intended to come back for me? That he might decide to call it a day and leave me stuck in the tube? I’ve done my level best to encourage that kind of thinking on his part.

  His tongue licks along the seam of my mouth.

  “Miss me?”

  He has no idea.

  “Had me a substitute male,” I whisper, and then do a little plundering of my own. He tastes like hot, wild sunlight, the warmth of him a welcome shock in the cool shadows of Lierr’s caves. He tastes right. He tastes familiar. The part of me where his bells rest creams in welcome, wanting him inside me. Now.

  He came back for me. No one ever did that before. Instead of thanking him, however, “Did you get it?” are the words that come out of my mouth. Never mind what I’m thinking. Is he injured? Hurt? I run my eyes over him.

  He’s picked up a couple of slash marks on the side of his throat—makes me wonder if the Ifrits have vampire blood in their family tree—and what looks like an alchemical burn on the side of his face. Someone hasn’t played nice. You have to be real careful detonating those powders, particularly—I glance up—when you’re sitting in a cavern full of old, unstable rock.

  “Here you go.” A familiar weight settles around my throat. “Now I won’t have to get you a ring.”

  “Wait, you were planning on getting me a ring?” A gift? Doing a quick mental inventory, I can’t remember the last time someone willingly gave me gemstones. Lierr’s little necklace doesn’t really count, since he planned on repossessing the stones—and me. Unexpected pleasure curls through me.

  “Planned.” He shoots me a teasing look. “Past tense. You want this necklace? Fine. It’s yours.” He drags me up the slope, pulling me inexorably toward the surface. Together we stumble out of the caverns and into the otherworldly moonlight of Qaf. “Open a Doorway. Now.”

  I don’t have to look behind us to understand the urgency in his voice. Yeah,
getting the hell out of here is the wise and prudent thing to do. For once, I’m happy to be agreeable. And look—my little fall into the tube has conveniently nicked a tender spot. I frown at the crimson stain on my forearm. Lierr should have been giving me hazard pay.

  “Now, Miu,” Jafar bites out. “Take stock of your damages later.” The ground thunders around us. “There’s an entire clan of Ifrits—really, really pissed off Ifrits who might just be looking for a necklace—headed our way.”

  Right. I demanded he become a thief, so it’s up to me to get him back home. And to hope that two out of three is enough to placate the Amun Ra, because there’s no getting around the sad fact that we’ve lost Lierr.

  For good.

  I focus, pulling down the moonlight into the stone, channeling the mazhyk until the air splits open around us, and the Doorway explodes into existence.

  “Nice,” he comments, dragging me through the opening. “Glad to see you’re finally getting over that whole not-taking-orders thing.”

  “You wish,” I say, and snap the Doorway closed behind us.

  We are back in the temple, standing between the two pylons that mark the temple entrance. Still caught mid-shift, the stone Cats reach out with their claws for the soundlessly-shrieking thief in what is probably a harbinger of what waits for me inside.

  Don’t think about that.

  I don’t want to face the Guardians a second time. But I know, in my gut, that it’s the right thing to do. Who would have guessed that I would end up doing the right thing? That I would want to do the right thing? I reach out a hand for Jafar, wrapping my fingers around his thick wrist in a small caress. He was willing to give up the Guardians, to give up his temple and his responsibilities here. For me. It’s a sacrifice I can’t let him make. If those terrifying moments in the lava tube showed me anything, they showed me all too clearly that Jafar is the one male I can trust, the only one I love.

  “Heqet’s balls,” he growls. His blade materializes in his right hand, even as his left arm snakes through mine, pulling me back outside the temple.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” He turns, his eyes glowing. “Why did you bring us here, of all places? You can’t set foot in the temple again. Not without Lierr. The Amun Ra sent us after him and we’re returning empty-handed.”

  “I’m turning myself in.” I state the obvious, willing him to understand.

  “Excuse me?” Fur ripples over his arm as he begins to shift. “I must have misheard you. I thought you said you were turning yourself in.”

  “I am.”

  “Over my dead body,” he snarls.

  Now that’s precisely the problem. I don’t want to see his dead body—and the Amun Ra all but promised that he’ll destroy Jafar for choosing to help me. Heqet knows, I’m not going to stand for Jafar being pulled to bits and sent back to that vortex thingie.

  If it takes sacrificing myself to convince the Amun Ra that Jafar wasn’t derelict in his duty, I’ll do it. I’ll tell the Guardians that I took the necklace, that Jafar was only protecting his mate.

  The first Cat appears in the entranceway. I knew they’d be quick, had half wondered if they’d be watching for me. The easiest way in is through the front door, right? They know how I think and they’re on to me.

  Sanur is the first Guardian out of the entrance, bracing his legs as he stands on the steep ramp leading up into the temple. Good. He’s the playful one, the one most likely to show mercy.

  “Make it quick,” I tell him.

  “Now you’re being noble?” Apparently, Jafar has figured it out. Then, turning to Sanur, he curses. “Don’t touch her, you bastard.”

  “I can kill her now,” Sanur says, “or I can drag her back to the Amun Ra. Those are the only two choices on the table.”

  I twist free of Jafar’s grasp.

  “Miu.” My name comes out in a roar of agony. Don’t care for me, I chant in my head. Let go. Just let go. Can’t he see that there’s no other way out of our dilemma? There’s no way we both go free, so I chose and I chose him. “You’re a fighter.” His eyes hold mine. “You never give up. So why bring us here?”

  “Because this is where we need to be,” I say sadly. “This is where we need you to be. And this is where the necklace needs to be.” I hold the necklace out to him. “I got what I needed—you kept your end of the bargain and Lore is free.” And I have something else even more precious now: the knowledge that I’m loved, that someone cares about me. Not for what I can do for him, but because of who I am. I trust my Cat.

  “You were right—Amun Ra was right—when you warned that taking the necklace out of the temple was dangerous. Lierr can’t be allowed to get his hands on it. None of the Ifrits can.” I still can’t believe that Lierr is an Ifrit, that he masked what he truly is for so many years. “And the safest place for it is back inside your temple. With you watching over it. Just another piece of business, kitty.”

  “You spit in the face of the authority figures.” His voice is an anguished whisper. “Why go willingly this time?”

  Because I have to make things right, even if it kills me. I’ll be a real mate for once. I’ll make sure he’s safe. That he lives the kind of life he needs: watching over the Doorways and protecting our world. And if the Amun Ra is too pigheaded to see why he needs Jafar, I’ll remind him.

  “Quick,” Sanur promises, his arms closing around me. “I vow to Heqet I’ll make your death a quick one.”

  JAFAR

  Déjà vu. If I can’t convince Amun Ra that my femi deserves life, she dies. And Sanur’s promise is no damn consolation to me.

  That Heqet-cursed Ifrit princess tore out my heart and trampled on it. Up until now, I’ve been delighted that the organ in question showed no signs of resuscitation. Now, my chest aches for the woman currently residing in one of the small holding cells beneath the floor of the audience chamber. Somewhere, she is alone in the dark and I have to convince the Amun Ra to let her live.

  And if I can’t do that, I admit silently to myself, then we will fight our way out of this mess together. Again.

  I’ve never been one for words. The need to speak—and speak convincingly—knots my stomach. The rough murmur of Cats’ voices reaches me from the distance, followed by the faint, metallic music of shifting weaponry and a feminine scream, abruptly cut off. I have to do this.

  I am going to save her—and then I may just kill her myself. How dare she take these sorts of chances with her life? Why is she so foolishly determined to give herself up to my fellow Guardians?

  “Once a thief, always a thief, my brother.” The Amun Ra lounges carelessly on the divan, the room’s only piece of furniture. Exotic pelts from long-dead mythical creatures cover the massive divan.

  I begin again.

  “Not a thief. You know I was the one who took the necklace.”

  The Amun Ra’s flat, silvery eyes meet mine. Deadly. Lethal. I’ve never underestimated the male, as some of my fellow Guardians do. This being called us out of the vortex where we existed, ruthlessly thrust us into the bodies of the dead and dying, to animate a warrior corps for his own use. You simply can’t be surprised by anything a male like that does.

  Or the lengths to which he will go.

  “Maybe so, my Cat.” The Amun Ra’s voice is as cold and flawless as the rest of him. “But she’s a thief at heart. We both know the truth of the matter. I was willing to overlook it earlier. I wanted the master thief. As you yourself pointed out, there was no point in taking out the little guy when I could have the head of the operation. Now you tell me this Lierr is gone back to Qaf. Dead?” His voice is a delicate question.

  I bite back a growl. “Incapacitated,” I rejoin. “Trapped. Imprisoned. And”—a hard grimace stretches my lips—“punished.”

  “Punished is good.” Something savage lights the male’s eyes. “You are quite sure of this?”

  Interesting that the Amun Ra can put the Guardians’ spirits into human flesh but not see for himself the t
ruth of my words. Not all-powerful, despite the Guardians’ perceptions to the contrary. I file that fact away for future examination and choose my next words carefully.

  “Saw to it myself. Left him broken. Buried.”

  “Deep beneath the surface of Qaf.” The Amun Ra’s words are not a question, but a pleased recollection. Twice already I’ve been through the history of what happened on Qaf. I jerk my head in agreement. Lierr’s injuries are no longer a concern. The heavy air inside the chamber stirs.

  The female on the divan stretches sinuously, rubbing her pale flesh against the Amun Ra’s arm. The male seems not to notice.

  “Broken rules, my brother,” he says, not taking his eyes off me. He’s watching for something. But what? I search my mind for anything—anything—I can use as leverage to save my femi.

  Amun Ra’s long fingers stroke down the female’s flank, dismissing me.

  I grit my teeth. I am not going to fail. Not this time. I itch to loose my Cat, to lose myself in physical battle, even though I know there is no winning against a creature such as the Amun Ra. The male is a bottomless lake of mazhyk and I’ve seen what remains of Guardians who challenge Amun Ra for leadership rights. The Ifrits left more of Ebo than the Amun Ra did of his challengers.

  “Bent, not broken,” I say desperately. Amun Ra’s flat silver gaze swivels back to pin me. Save her, I think desperately. “Bent,” I repeat carefully. “She’s brought back the necklace.”

  “You leave me little choice,” Amun Ra points out, almost gently, which terrifies me more than being on the pointed end of the male’s blades. “Why do you defend her so doggedly? If it is a simple matter of wishing for companionship, other arrangements can be made.” The female stretches out on the couch, drawing her white hands up her bared thighs. Reaching down, Amun Ra strokes the golden bells that disappear inside the woman’s vulva. The sound of soft wetness growing juicier fills the hushed room. “I could give you this one.”

  That one is not my femi.

  I shake my head. “Not interchangeable.”

  “Right.” The male makes a shooing motion with his hand, and the female, shooting me a disgruntled look, saunters off into the shadows. Toward the growing sounds of my fellow Guardians in the outer chambers. Hell, I hope my femi is locked up far away from that lot. They’re lusty and uninhibited.