The Midnight Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  They’d almost reached the long one-story building from which emanated a plethora of mouthwatering odors when someone called her name. Sophia hurried across the courtyard in their direction.

  “Go ahead without me,” Drake said to the adolescents. “I’ll be a few minutes.”

  “See you,” Misha called as she took off with the boys.

  “How are you?” Sophia said breathlessly, scanning Drake’s face.

  “All right, I think.” Feeling curious eyes on her as more Weres passed by, Drake pointed to a shaded area by the side of the mess hall, just at the edge of the forest. “Let’s talk over there for a minute.”

  “I called in sick to the ER for you this morning,” Sophia said as they made their way over. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No,” Drake said. “I’m really glad you did. I’ll call later and tell them I have a personal emergency. I have plenty of leave time coming.”

  She checked the woods behind them. Possum. Rabbit. Raccoon.

  Nothing threatening. She put herself between Sophia and the forest just the same. “If I can go back to work at all.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be able to?” Sophia asked.

  “It’s a little too soon to be sure of my prognosis.”

  “You look good.” Sophia tilted her head. “Your scent is healthy.”

  Sophia’s eyes widened and she caught her breath, her face flushing.

  “Oh.”

  “Please tell me you’re not going to offer,” Drake said.

  Sophia laughed. “I gather the adolescents already did?”

  Drake grimaced. “Enthusiastically.”

  “I can’t imagine how this all feels to you right now,” Sophia said.

  “The weird thing is,” Drake said, “part of me feels completely natural. The part that isn’t trying to rip my guts out.”

  “She wants you to shift—I remember what that’s like,” Sophia murmured. “All this power bottled up inside, needing some way out and never knowing how to let it free. Never being able to make it stop. All our instincts try to surface at once, creating a huge hormonal bottleneck, for want of a better descriptor. And the only outlet for a while is sex.” She appraised Drake frankly. “Sex is a safety valve. A release will help you.”

  “I…I don’t think I’m ready.” Drake didn’t know why, but despite the gnawing demand for sex that tore at her like a powerful predator, she didn’t want anyone. She swiped at the sweat trickling down her neck and thought she smelled Sylvan, but that couldn’t be.

  “What you’re feeling is perfectly natural, you know.”

  “I understand—but my head and my body aren’t quite in sync on all of that.”

  “Just so you know, a lot of the unmated Weres are going to feel your call, but no one is compelled to answer.” She grinned shyly. “A lot probably will, though. They offer because they…well…want you.”

  “Have you seen Sylvan?” Drake asked abruptly. She didn’t want to talk about the craving that was slicing her to ribbons, one slow, agonizing cut at a time.

  “The Alpha?” Sophia shook her head. “No, but none of the centuri are here, so the Alpha is probably no longer in the Compound.”

  Sylvan was gone. Drake should have expected that, but the disappointment was still exquisite. Sylvan had been doing her duty as Alpha that morning, ensuring that the newly turned Were was not a danger to the Pack. Now that Drake was reasonably stable, the morning’s intimacy with Sylvan was not likely to be repeated. The Alpha was no longer concerned with her. Drake shuddered, a howl of rage blasting inside her head.

  “Ah, God.” Drake stumbled back a step, sweat covering her arms and soaking through her cotton T-shirt.

  “Drake?” Sophia reached for her. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” Drake said, suppressing a gasp as another shaft of pain radiated along her spine. “What if she wins this struggle? The…my… wolf.”

  “She won’t.” Sophia slipped her arm around Drake’s waist. “Come on. Let’s get you something to eat. Your metabolism is about ten times higher than it was at this time yesterday.”

  “Afterwards, I want you to run a battery of tests on me.”

  “Looking for what?” Sophia led Drake up the steps and across the wide porch to the mess hall.

  “Anything. Anything that might suggest I could turn rabid.”

  “I’ll do it,” Sophia said, “but if you were going to deteriorate, I don’t think we’d see a period of lucidity like this.”

  “But you don’t know, do you?”

  “No,” Sophia said regretfully. “We don’t really understand anything about how you were turned.”

  “Then until we do,” Drake said, “we have to consider me a potential danger to everyone. Maybe I should be locked up a while longer.”

  Sophia stopped abruptly and, facing Drake, slipped her arms around Drake’s shoulders. She stroked Drake’s damp hair. “We don’t cage Pack members. We protect them.”

  Weary of the constant pain and loneliness, Drake closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Sophia’s. If only she could believe her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A little before six p.m., Sylvan shoved aside a pile of paperwork on her desk and impatiently punched in Elena’s cell number.

  The instant Elena answered, she demanded, “How is she?”

  “Better. She’s with Sophia right now.”

  “Sophia?” A barrage of heat shot into Sylvan’s chest. She’d held off contacting Sophia about taking samples from Drake so Drake would have more chance to heal. “Doing what? I told you Drake wasn’t ready.”

  “Alpha,” Elena said softly, “Sophia is a medic. She’s just following up on Drake’s status.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Sophia took her to the mess hall.”

  The pressure in Sylvan’s chest intensified and she bolted to her feet. “Drake is out with the Pack? She’s a dominant in frenzy and completely untrained! Elena—what are you thinking?”

  “Sophia is with her and Roger is on his way to join them, but Drake is fine. In fact…”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Drake is refusing to let anyone answer her call.”

  “She’s not in frenzy, then?” The pressure in Sylvan’s chest eased and she drew in a slow breath.

  “I’m not sure. She’s broadcasting strongly, but…it’s different. She’s different.”

  Sylvan’s heart clenched. “Is there any sign of fever?”

  “Nothing so far.”

  “And she seems healthy?”

  “Yes, very.”

  “That’s good. That’s good.” Sylvan dropped into her chair, tilted her head back, and closed her eyes. She’d forced herself to work, answering phone calls, reviewing proposals, making notations on endless minutes from endless committee meetings with half a mind.

  Underneath it all, she was constantly aware of the powerful urge to see Drake. To touch her. She rubbed the spot on her chest where Drake had bitten her. Her sex tightened.

  “Alpha?” Elena asked uncertainly.

  “What?” Sylvan replied.

  “I asked when you would be back.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “She carries your scent.”

  “An anomaly. It will fade.” The bite on Sylvan’s chest throbbed harder. “Tell Roger I want him to indoctrinate her. As soon as possible.”

  “She’ll need to have a complete releas—”

  “You said she’s not in frenzy,” Sylvan snapped.

  “I know,” Elena said patiently, “but something is driving her. Alpha, I can sense her call across the Compound, and her need is powerful. Would you have her be in pain?”

  “No. Never.” Sylvan closed her eyes. “I must speak with Sophia.”

  “I’ll tell her to contact you right away.”

  Sylvan thought of Drake in need, surrounded by Pack who would willingly answer her call. Drake deserved the comfort of Pack, and she needed the physical release—wi
th whatever Pack member she chose.

  That was the natural order of their existence, and Sylvan could not interfere because of her own irrational reactions. She was Alpha, and she owed Drake no less than the freedom every other Pack member enjoyed. She wouldn’t make Drake suffer just because she didn’t want anyone else near her. She would have to tolerate Drake finding her place in the Pack as every Were had done for millennia.

  Elena repeated, “Alpha? Should I have Sophia call you?”

  “That’s not necessary.” Sylvan winced at the stabbing pain emanating from the bite in her chest. “I’m on my way back. I’ll talk to Sophia when I arrive.”

  “Of course, Alpha. I’ll just tell Roger to take care of Drake, then.”

  “Good. Tell him…tell him to make sure she has whatever she needs.”

  ———

  Becca’s number one rule was to always follow a lead, no matter where it went, no matter how difficult the pursuit might be. Unless her mysterious caller contacted her again with more information about where and how the girls were being infected with Were fever, she had to pursue those who might know something. She had two choices—Jody Gates and Sylvan Mir. Getting an appointment with the Alpha was about as easy as getting to see the President, but Jody Gates might just be her admission ticket. So Becca did the logical thing. She followed the Vampire detective.

  Jody had gone home after their breakfast that morning, presumably to sleep during daylight hours. Becca called the station house again and asked for Jody, to check her schedule. She was told the detective would be on duty at ten p.m. Just to be safe, after catching a few hours of sleep herself, she parked outside Jody’s State Street town house around six and waited. A few minutes before seven, Jody emerged, walked to a sleek black Porsche, and headed east toward the river. Becca gave her a full minute’s head start because she was fairly certain she knew where she was going.

  Ten minutes later, Becca drove past Club Nocturne. Jody’s Porsche was in the parking lot. She pulled into a far corner from which she could watch the Porsche but where her Camaro wouldn’t be readily visible to someone walking out of the club. She shut off the ignition and sat with her hands on the wheel, debating going inside. The longer she sat in the car, the harder it was to convince herself she didn’t want to see Jody in the throes of blood thrall—even if it was with a stranger.

  ———

  Moving stealthily on foot through the underbrush along the shore, Rex approached the black Town Car idling under the bridge. He waited and watched the car for a full fifteen minutes, constantly scanning the area for any sign of lookouts or possible ambush. He didn’t trust any of his business associates. He didn’t trust anyone. When he was certain the area was clear, he posted his own bodyguards and tapped on the rear window. The door locks snicked open and the rear door swung wide. He glanced inside. Two men with military haircuts and matching black turtlenecks occupied the front seats, their weapons trained on him through the open rear door. A middle-aged man with silver streaked black hair, wearing a two-thousand-dollar blended silk suit, sat on the far side of the rear seat. The man gestured for Rex to get in.

  “Tell your men to put away their guns,” Rex said.

  “Of course,” the man said pleasantly. He murmured something in a voice too low for Rex to hear, and the men in the front slid their weapons from sight.

  Rex got into the vehicle and closed the door. “What was so important we had to meet in person? I have important business—”

  “Our business is important,” the man said with a biting edge in his voice. “Your business is running drugs.”

  “My profits underwrite your agenda,” Rex snarled.

  “And we don’t need your people drawing unwarranted attention to us.”

  “Everything is under control,” Rex said.

  “Is that why the Were Alpha made a personal visit to the waterfront to dispatch a pack of rogues?”

  “I can hardly be responsible for every rogue Were in the city.”

  “She’s asking questions. It’s only a matter of time before she discovers where your drugs are coming from. And where the profits go.”

  “She’ll soon have something bigger to worry about than a few rogues overdosing on DSX.”

  “We can’t risk further exposure.” The man leaned forward, his dark eyes glinting like a cobra’s in the half-light reflected off the nearby water. “Your lack of control over your underlings has forced us to escalate our plans. She has to be eliminated.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Rex said, inwardly reveling at the chance to finally destroy his enemy.

  “Do it soon, and don’t make any mistakes.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  At dusk, Drake followed Roger down a narrow path through the forest to a clearing by a small, mirror-surfaced lake. She straddled a fallen log and put her back against a pine, giving her a view of the lake on one side and the forest on the other. Roger, a quiet-spoken male with shoulder-length thick brown hair, milk chocolate eyes, and a wiry build, settled onto a large rock a few feet away.

  “I take it you’ve been tasked with keeping me out of trouble?”

  Drake said.

  “Not exactly. I am a magister—a guidance counselor of sorts,” Roger said with a wry grin. “I work with the adolescents, mostly.”

  “Because they’re volatile?” Drake asked.

  “Volatile, unpredictable, hormonally hyped, impatient, aggressive, thrill-seeking—your run-of-the-mill healthy young Weres, pretty much.”

  “But I’m not an adolescent,” Drake pointed out. She wasn’t being argumentative, just realistic. “And I might not be healthy.”

  “You’re not an adolescent, that’s true,” Roger said mildly, “but we have no indication that you’re not healthy. In fact, you seem extraordinarily strong for someone who’s just been rearranged at a cellular level.”

  “Can you tell me more about that?” Drake asked.

  “It’s not really my area.” Roger shrugged apologetically. “I don’t want to misinform you. We have scientists and medics who can explain it all better than I can. But of this I am sure—everything about you signals you’re a Were.”

  “Everything—meaning what?”

  “Your scent, most importantly, and your natural dominance. But also your instinctive behavior. You just positioned yourself so you can detect any aggressor who might approach, while your back is defended by the barrier of the tree. You just act—Were.”

  “How long before we can be sure I won’t become rabid?”

  “I don’t know. None of the Packs have very much experience with turned Weres.” Roger met her eyes briefly before glancing away. “The Alpha wants you indoctrinated, so she believes you’re safe.”

  “And that’s that?” Drake said mildly.

  “The Alpha is law.”

  “I understand.” And on some innate, deeply primal level, Drake did understand. She felt a connection to all the other Pack members, the hundreds she’d never met and might never know, and at the center of that expansive, intricate network of connected spirits, she knew the guiding unifying force. Sylvan. The Alpha. “What does indoctrination entail?”

  “Making you aware of Pack rules you would have learned growing up with your Packmates—except you haven’t had that chance. You will learn, one way or the other, but it will be safer if you know how to behave before you have to be taught.”

  “Safer.”

  “You’re an adult Were,” Roger said gently. “It doesn’t matter that you don’t understand the rules. Your behavior will be taken at face value and Pack members will respond instinctively.”

  “Okay. So give me the critical lessons first.”

  “You already know the most important one. The Alpha protects us and unites us, and for that, we give her our absolute loyalty. Every member of the Pack will fight to defend her, so you must be careful not to imply any challenge to her. Don’t sit until she sits, don’t touch her, don’t meet her gaze directly.”

  �
��And she rules for life?”

  “Unless she passes the title to a successor.”

  “No one ever challenges?”

  “Sometimes when an Alpha is very old, a younger dominant will challenge, but it’s rare.” Roger looked away, his expression pained.

  “What?”

  “All Weres are territorial and aggressive. Ours is the largest, most dominant Pack in North America, and there are other Packs who would like to see our power diminished. They’ve warred against us.”

  “Literally? Attacked your Pack?”

  “Our Pack,” Roger said gently.

  Drake nodded, but she knew her acceptance into the Pack wouldn’t be as simple as Roger made it seem. She’d grown up human, she knew nothing of Pack politics or hierarchy, and she might not even be a normal Were. And right now she could do nothing about any of it except learn as much as she could and be ready to fight if necessary.

  “When was the attack? What happened?”

  “A decade ago our Alpha and her hunting party were ambushed. She was murdered.” Roger sighed. “Some fear the war is not yet over. There are always skirmishes along our borders, but no full-scale attacks in years.”

  “But if there were, Sylvan would be the target,” Drake said, the pressure in her chest erupting on a rough growl.

  “She has her centuri to protect her.”

  Drake had experienced firsthand the ferocious power of Sylvan’s guards when Niki had pinned her to the wall in the ER. She respected their ability, but she couldn’t shake a sudden fierce desire to protect Sylvan herself. She’d never been a warrior and had no idea what prompted the compulsion, but it was so strong she wanted to return immediately to the Compound and find Sylvan.

  “How do you feel right now?” Roger asked.

  Drake frowned, not following the change in subject. “Considering that I woke up in a body that doesn’t quite feel like my own, not too bad.”

  “Do you need to tang—have sex?”

  “I know what tangle means.” Drake grumbled in frustration, because he was right. Until a few minutes ago, the pounding in her loins had been bearable, but now the urge for sex was painful. “I would assume you already know the answer to your question.”