by Jamie Davis
She picked up speed and hit the werepanther, tucking her shoulder as she collided with him.
He grunted and pitched off his motorcycle, trying to twist to the side and reach for Quinn as he fell.
She rode him to the ground, driving her Bowie into his back in three quick thrusts. The last one struck home in his heart, the magical silver alloy blade smoking in the wound.
Quinn didn’t stop to double-check her work. The remaining six shifters heard their comrade call out before he died. They let out low growls as they faced the attacker.
Knowing speed was her friend, Quinn dialed up her stamina bar and drew off some energy to juice up her quickness and strength. She’d hoped to take down more than one before the others recovered from the surprise attack. She hadn’t counted on how tough the one she’d attacked first had been, or how many strikes it had taken to kill him.
As the six shifters fanned out in a semicircle to face her, Quinn feinted to the left, then charged to the right.
It worked. The werepanther on that side either didn’t expect her speed boost or fell for the feint. It didn’t matter which.
Dropping into a slide, Quinn passed between the biker’s legs. She stabbed up into his abdomen and again into his groin as she went through.
She dug in with the heels of her boots, bounced to her feet behind him, and spun around. The shifter had doubled over, clutching both his crotch and belly. Even if he survived, he was out of this fight.
Quinn had to shift into defensive mode as the closest two closed in. One carried a baseball bat with spikes jutting from the end, and the other attacked with his panther claws.
She managed to fend off the first swing of the bat, but only by moving into the range of his comrade. Claws raked down her right shoulder, tearing into the leather jacket and ripping the skin below.
Quinn hissed in pain while she jumped back and to the side to avoid the follow-up blow from the other hand. She managed to score a glancing slash with her knife that caused the werepanther to yowl in pain and step back.
Unfortunately, another was ready to step into his spot, and the second moved around to swing at her again. She shifted left, barely ducking in time to avoid the spiked bat coming at her head.
She punched the thigh of the bat-wielder and got in a lucky strike when he was a second too late pulling his leg back. It wasn’t much of a slash, though, not enough to do more than slow him down a little.
It would have to be enough because there were still four werepanthers facing her. The final one raised his arm, and Quinn realized too late he held a hand crossbow.
He fired, and the six-inch bolt flew at her before she could block or dodge it. The thick-shafted arrow punched into her already injured shoulder with enough force to knock her back.
Quinn stumbled and used the momentum to keep spinning while she put some distance between her and her attackers. As she did, she reassessed the situation.
At this point, it was obvious she couldn’t take the remaining five, even with a few of them injured. Her right arm was toast for the time being, and she knew they wouldn’t give her enough time to try to pull ley-line energy in to heal herself.
The shifters all had wild grins on their catlike faces, fangs showing. They’d fanned out to try to keep her from running. Soon she’d have no chance to escape.
Making the only move she had left, Quinn pulled up her HUD and said, “Mist.”
She wasn’t sure it would work the way she wanted, since every other time, no one had been watching her when she ducked into the shadows.
As soon as the haze appeared around her vision, Quinn dodged to the left, aiming for the gap between two of the shifters.
One of the ones behind her growled, “Where’d she go?”
“There,” the one closest to her called, pointing in her direction. “I can still sort of see her.”
Quinn angled away from that one and sprinted between two others. She drew on more stamina while she ran to gain both speed and stealth.
One of the two she went past must have seen something because he reached in her direction. Only by twisting at the last instant did she avoid contact, which would have broken the illusion.
As soon as she was outside the circle, she headed for the rear of the lot and the cover of the trees and bushes there. Behind her, the shifters twisted and looked in all directions, trying to find her.
A shout from the leader, who was still astride the bike with the sidecar, drew their attention. “Don’t bother with the girl, get back over here.”
Two of the werepanthers who’d gone inside the restaurant, came out holding a struggling Inez between them. She had been tied up, with her arms to her sides and her mouth gagged.
The leader pointed at his sidecar, and they dumped her in headfirst. He revved his engine, and his rear tire spat out gravel as he turned in the lot and aimed for the street.
The others, less the one Quinn had killed, helped their injured comrades onto their bikes and followed the leader onto the street. Soon Quinn stood alone in the lot. A flicker of fire caught her eye from inside the kitchen, then a fireball exploded through the restaurant’s roof as the gas line inside ignited.
The blast knocked her down, even as far away as she was. Groaning as she climbed to her feet, Quinn tapped her earpiece. She had to get back. Clark needed to know about this and what she’d learned from Inez before the woman was taken.
“T, I need to come back. Call Clark, too.”
“What’s up? Your pattern in the system spiked a second ago.”
“I’ll tell you when I get there. I’m going to need to be patched up, too.”
“Gotcha, get ready, I’m hitting the recall now.”
The tugging pulled Quinn backward, and she dipped into the blackness.
Chapter Thirteen
Quinn opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling above her. She rolled over to sit up, cradling her right arm as she did.
“Damn, Quinn, that looks bad. Should we get you to the hospital or something?”
Quinn shook her head. “I can handle it. I just need to get up to my room and draw some energy from the ley lines nearby.” She looked at the bolt embedded in her shoulder and gripped the shaft.
Miranda and Taylor both shouted, “No!”
Quinn ignored them and pulled at the embedded quarrel, twisting as she shouted through the pain. It came free, leaving an open wound that bled freely.
Taylor handed Quinn a wadded-up hand towel she grabbed from the table nearby. Quinn pressed it against the wound, pushing hard to staunch the flow of blood.
Miranda floated over and leaned in to look. “Those claw wounds look deep too, Quinn. What did you fight this time?”
Quinn started to shrug and winced as pain lanced through her shoulder. “I think they were werepanthers? Not sure, but that’s what they looked like to me.”
“You have to be careful with them, Quinn. They are usually ruthless and cruel, especially if they have a leader who can pull them into a group. They’re usually loners or move in small family units. How many were there?”
“A dozen or so,” Quinn replied. She stood up and tested her balance while leaning against the table for a few seconds. “They were part of a biker gang. When they attacked the werebadgers in the restaurant, I thought I could catch them by surprise. They were tougher than I expected, though. I only managed to cut one down before the others converged on me.”
Taylor’s eyes got wide. “All twelve of them?”
“Only six. The others were inside, killing the restaurant workers and kidnapping Inez. Six were bad enough. I only just escaped. I was lucky.”
“Yes, you were,” Clark said from the door.
Quinn glanced at him. “At least I tried to stop them.”
“You weren’t supposed to go back there. I told you I’d deal with it. I promised Inez.”
“Well,” Quinn replied, “Inez has been taken and the restaurant is toast, so I guess we’re lucky I went out tonight. If I hadn’t
, I never would have found out what Gemma and Avery are up to here.”
Clark shook his head. “They took Inez?”
Quinn nodded and explained the conversation she’d had with the woman and the subsequent events in the parking lot. “If I hadn’t been there, we’d have no idea where she is.”
“We still don’t,” Clark said. “There aren’t any werepanthers in this area that I know of, so I’m not sure where they’re hanging out.”
“Won’t the other supernaturals in town know something?” the Huntress asked. “I think they’d notice a gang of crazy werepanther bikers.”
Clark said, “Werepanther gangs like that are kind of like the Columbian cartels of the shifter world. They are known to be bloodthirsty and hard on anyone who crosses them. If they’re here in Baltimore, it’ll be hard to root them out.”
Clark touched Quinn’s injured arm. “Do you need that looked at?”
“No,” Quinn said, jerking her arm back. She groaned at the sudden movement. “I can handle it. Huntress genes, remember?”
“I know that, but you still have to stop the bleeding, or you’ll leave a trail to your room. O’Malley will make you come back down and clean it up.”
Taylor giggled, and Quinn glared at her. Her friend hid her smile behind her hand, but Quinn could still see it.
“I’m going upstairs. I’ll be fine after I heal overnight. I’ll see you all at breakfast.”
Quinn headed for the door, sliding past Clark and out into the hall. She walked back to the bar entrance. It was late on a weeknight, so she didn’t expect much of a crowd.
She was right; the place was nearly empty. Turning so her bloody shoulder was hidden from the patrons, Quinn rushed past the bar.
“I wondered if that was you,” Gemma said as Quinn passed her.
Stopping, Quinn spotted the woman seated on a bar stool, sipping a glass of red wine.
“What?”
“Some friends of mine ran into some trouble tonight, and the girl they described sounded familiar. You should be careful. They think you owe them a blood debt now. You shouldn’t have killed a member of the pride.”
How did she know? Quinn tried to come up with a snappy retort, but her pain and exhaustion distracted her. All she said was, “Tell them to bring it.”
Gemma smiled, “Oh, my dear, I don’t have to tell them anything. They’ll ‘bring it’ as you say all on their own. You’ve opened a can of worms by sticking your nose into business in which you have no part.”
“This is my city, and I’m the clan’s Huntress. If it happens here, it’s my business.”
“Not for much longer. I think my Avery will prove her point soon enough, and you’ll be without a clan. There can only be one Huntress, you know.”
“I’m not scared of you or Avery. She has some tricks, but she’s not as great as you think she is. It’s like you raised her in a convent. She has no idea what the real world is like.”
Gemma smiled and sipped her wine but didn’t answer.
“Wait, that’s what you want, isn’t it? You want someone you have control over so you can run things from the shadows.”
“What’s wrong with that? That’s what Clark’s trying to do, right?”
Quinn bristled. “Clark doesn’t run me. He trains me and helps me learn things when I need them, but I’m the one who’s in charge when it comes down to it. I’m the one who has to save everyone when things fall apart. You should be careful. Avery will eventually figure out what you’re doing.”
“You are adorable. I can see why he and Naomi keep you around. As for Avery, if she doesn’t work out, there are others who can fill the role.” Gemma pointed at her arm, dripping blood on the floor at her feet. “You should get that looked at. Avery is upstairs, I think. She might even try some healing magic on it if you ask nicely.”
“I’m fine. I’ll do it myself.” Quinn stepped over the puddle of blood and started toward the apartment. If she stayed here, she was going to blurt out something she didn’t want to say in front of Gemma.
She made it to the stairs without anyone else in O’Malley’s noticing her injury. By the time she got to the second floor, Quinn had to stop at the top of the stairs to catch her breath. She realized she’d probably lost a lot more blood than she’d thought.
Quinn reached out to try to pull on the ley line junction running underground nearby, but when she tried to draw on it, she failed. The flow of energy bowed in her direction but snapped back as she lost hold of it. She was too tired, too drained to make it work.
Maybe if she got some sleep, she could energize from the ley line in the morning. Trudging to her apartment door, Quinn turned the key in the lock and pushed it open.
“Oh, my God, Quinn,” Avery exclaimed as the Huntress entered. “What happened to you?”
“Don’t act like you don’t know. Gemma was just gloating about it downstairs.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been up here enjoying your bathtub for the last half-hour, and I was watching the telly before that. What did you do, stick your arm in a blender?”
Avery got up from the couch and came over to where Quinn stood in the tiny kitchen. She lifted Quinn’s arm to study the injuries. The towel Quinn had been using to staunch the bleeding wound had become soaked.
Avery pulled it away, dropping it in the sink. She examined the wound, then grabbed a nearby tea towel from the drawer by the stove and pressed it against the still-oozing puncture.
Quinn tried to get away from the other woman’s ministrations but had no strength left to resist. When Avery directed her to sit by the table with a gentle tug, she complied.
“Press this fresh towel against your shoulder while I help you get this jacket off.” Avery’s hands moved quickly but were gentle, surprising Quinn. When they’d come into physical contact recently, it had always been during training bouts, and maximum injury had been the goal. Now, though, she acted like she cared.
“You don’t have to do this. I just need to go lie down and get some rest. I have a way of healing on my own.”
“Nonsense,” Avery said. “I just need to get a good look at your injuries, then I can do some healing. It’s part of the skill set for a Huntress, right?”
“Uh, yeah, right. Um, okay, sure,” Quinn stammered. “Go for it if that’s what you want to do.”
“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you? You can’t lay on hands, can you?”
Quinn shook her head. “I don’t know what that is, but I’m sure I can manage on my own.”
As she said it, a wave of lightheadedness washed over her, and she struggled to stay upright in the chair. Quinn rested her good arm on the table for support. Despite that, she still swayed in her seat.
Avery finished wiping at the gashes from the panther claws and put down the cloth she’d been using. “Hold still. I have to connect with you to do this.”
A tickle at the back of Quinn’s consciousness expanded into an awareness that she wasn’t alone in her head anymore.
“Quinn, relax. It’s just me,” Avery’s voice said in her mind. “This is the Hunters’ Mind Touch. Hunters have used it for millennia to communicate over short distances during hunts when stealth was imperative.”
“How? Clark never—”
“Not all Hunters possessed the skill. You definitely have it. I knew it from the first time I met you. Have you never communicated with anyone via your thoughts before?”
Quinn thought back to the motherly voice she’d heard on occasion or the way she’d talked with the fallen clan leaders in the ceremonial chamber. Maybe this explained it.
“I guess I have, sort of. I never knew what it was.”
Avery’s pleased amusement translated through the connection. “Well, good. Now that we’ve connected, I can help you draw energy while I supplement with my own to heal your wounds.”
“I don’t think I have the strength to do much right now,” Quinn sent over the link.
�
�That’s all right. I’ll provide most of it. Here, let me show you how.” Avery laid her bare hand over the crossbow wound and said, “You might feel a little heat while I do this.”
“Do what?” Quinn started to ask out loud. She stopped as a searing pain shot through her arm. It ended as quickly as it started, leaving behind a pleasant warmth that spread into the rest of her body from her shoulder.
“All done,” Avery said, taking her hand away. She went to the kitchen sink and started washing her hands.
Quinn checked her shoulder. The bloody puncture wound and the gouges from the claws had disappeared, replaced by faint white scars across her tanned skin. Quinn traced her fingers across the lines.
Avery came back with a huge smile on her face. “All better, right?”
“Yes,” Quinn said. “Thank you.”
“Not a problem. We Huntress gals have to stick together. You’d do the same for me, after all.”
Quinn nodded. She probably would, despite their rivalry.
“What was that you said when you told me I knew what had happened to you?” Avery asked. “You said Gemma was involved?”
“You don’t have to pretend, Avery,” Quinn said, trying not to be annoyed at the woman who’d just healed her. “You already told me about your connection to Filippa.”
Confusion clouded Avery’s expression. “What does the Fae princess have to do with this? She was our benefactor and helped protect us immediately after the purges.”
Quinn grew annoyed. “Do I have to spell it out for you? Avery, Gemma brought you here to help her search for a hidden artifact. Something valuable Filippa wants. You have to know about it. You were there days ago in the parking lot. You threatened Inez. I saw you.”
Avery stared at Quinn, trying to process what she’d said. “You’re referring to the werebadger woman?”
Quinn nodded.
“Gemma told me to confront the woman because of a family contract they had with her. That’s all. The woman owed us something, and I was there to make sure she fulfilled her end of the bargain.”
