by Laken Cane
I released an unthinking scream of rage, and the next thing I knew, Silverlight was lighting up the night and I was charging the vampires, death in my heart.
The vampires scattered without making a sound—danger was a constant companion and they’d grown used to her—but the humans were a different matter.
The one who’d been in the middle of a feeding climbed drunkenly to her feet, a gun in her hand. “Stop,” she croaked, and pulled the trigger.
Lucky for me she was too smashed to focus, and the shot went wide. I heard a tree yelp when the bullet took off some bark, and then I concentrated on the vampires.
There were six of them, but I figured there were more in the area—the trails had been many and varied—and I was right. More of them came running at the commotion, but strangely enough, they didn’t attack me. They turned tail and ran.
What the hell kind of vampires ran?
Ones that wanted to live.
I squeezed Silverlight and walked toward the humans. “Are you okay?” I called.
The woman waved the gun at me, a little stronger. “Go away!”
I kept walking, but sheathed Silverlight. The vampires had mesmerized her, and that wasn’t her fault. “I can help you,” I told her. “Put the gun down.”
She rubbed her face with her free hand, then stumbled backward and tripped over the log on which her attacker had sat, his fangs in her flesh. The gun flew from her grip.
“Shit,” she cried. “Shit.” Her voice was still thick, her words slurred, but she seemed to be recovering quickly. She sat up and lunged for the gun, but I reached it first.
I kicked it away. “Stop it,” I said. “Calm down. You’re all right.”
I knelt at the downed man’s side but kept my stare on the woman. I felt for a pulse, relieved when I found it. “He’s alive,” I told her.
“Come on.” She wiped angrily at her eyes and began to cry. “Come on.”
I stood, digging for my cell phone. “I’ll call for help.”
“Leave us alone,” she screamed, suddenly, and turned to follow the vampires deeper into the woods.
I went after her and when I caught her, I grabbed her arm and spun her around. She was about eight inches shorter than me and when I took her arm, it was like holding a stick. I eased my grip. “Lady, you’ll be okay. Stay still. The effects of the bite will wear off soon.”
“Oh my God,” she said. “If you want a cause, go after the infected vampires. I don’t want you here. Can’t you understand?”
And finally, I did.
“You wanted to feed them.”
“I’m with my friends.” She dropped to her knees, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed. “He’ll stop seeing me.”
“Your vampire friend?” I couldn’t keep the disdain from my voice.
She swallowed her tears and looked up at me. “My boyfriend, not that it’s your business.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve and then stood, jerking away from me when I reached out to steady her. “Who the fuck are you, anyway?” She continued on before I could answer. “Whoever you are, you’re not better than me. And you’re not better than them.”
“Lady—”
She shoved me, but was still too weak and loopy to put any muscle behind it. “Go away. You don’t belong here.”
“Neither do you.”
She poked a stiff finger into my chest, and that hurt a little. “It’s not your business. I’m an adult.”
“Law says—” I began.
“Fuck the law. And fuck you.”
“I’m all for minding my own business when it comes to consenting adults,” I told her. “But the vampires mesmerize you. You don’t know any better. They make you think you want something you don’t.”
She sighed, and the fight went out of her. Her eyes were stark and hopeless in the bloodless pale of her face, and she seemed to shrink just a little. “Are you going to turn me in?”
I studied her. “I think you need to see a doctor.”
Her stare was unflinching. “Answer me.”
I looked heavenward, then finally, shook my head. “No, I won’t turn you in.”
“Then please,” she said gently, “leave us alone. We’re not hurting anybody.”
“Give me some information, and I’ll go.”
She frowned, then wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Information about what?”
I pulled my phone from my pocket, then brought up the picture of Lucy’s killer. “Gordon Gray.” I turned the phone toward her and showed her the photo. “Do you know where he is?”
She pushed the phone away. “Lucy’s guy.”
“Yes. Where can I find him?”
“You can’t. He knows he’s being hunted. He comes out to feed—mostly from animals—and then goes back into hiding. Lucy didn’t like him feeding from other people, said he was cheating on her.” She laughed, then shrugged and continued when I said nothing. “You won’t find him.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I will.”
“Good luck.”
She didn’t sound like she meant that at all.
I gave the man another glance. “Do you want help, or are you happy offering yourself to the bloodsuckers as well?” I was full of contempt, and he wouldn’t look at me.
“Awesome,” I muttered and turned away from both of them.
But before I could leave them to their fates and head back to the road, where Angus would be waiting, the woman gave a horrified scream.
And suddenly, we were surrounded by something much, much worse than mere vampires.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Infecteds,” she screamed. “Run!”
But even as Silverlight attached to my arm, some of the infected vampires fell upon the woman and the male human, and the rest turned toward me.
The infecteds. These were the diseased vampires Amias wanted me to end. These were the vampires spreading the virus that caused them to attack humans in clusters.
I didn’t want Silverlight to touch those diseased bodies, but the only other choice was to run. I could have outrun them, I was pretty sure. They were sick and starving and a little slower.
But there were two humans there, and I was a hunter. I was a vampire killer.
And hunters didn’t run away.
“Sorry about this,” I muttered to the sword, then ran her through the disgusting body of an infected as he leaned over the woman. Another infected ran at me, his mouth wide, screaming his rage to the world. Death, hunger, rage. That was all they felt. All they were.
One of his fangs was broken, and the other was long and discolored, jagged and sharp. I felt a little sorry for him for about two seconds.
Silverlight slid through his neck like it was a thick loaf of bread, and before the head listed to the side and began to fall, I turned to beat away the vampires throwing themselves at the humans.
Usually I lost my fear during a battle, but this was not a normal battle. I didn’t want those diseased creatures to touch me, but it wasn’t just that. They were carrying the disease that Amias had carried when he’d attacked me and my family, and those memories had begun resurfacing at an alarming rate.
The viciousness of those memories caught me off guard. They took my breath, sent me back to that house, to that street, to that time.
“No, no, no,” I muttered. I tried to shake them away, but they were stubborn, those memories, and they would do as they pleased.
Since the attack, I’d tried not to think about what had happened. I didn’t see the point in allowing myself to dwell on that horrible night. The loss was too great, the pain too severe. But sometimes, the memories grew tired of being suppressed and they exploded free and began beating me with clubs and bricks and hammers, taking advantage of their momentary freedom to hurt me.
Amias had been in the early stages when he’d attacked my family, and though he’d had the rage, hunger, and confusion running through him, he was able to speak and to think. Somewhat. And he’d been a master. Old. Power
ful.
Still, they had the same feel to them. And I think that was what set me off.
Silverlight did what she needed to do, but she did it without me, at least for a few fuzzy minutes. Because for a little while, I wasn’t even there. I was at my sister’s house on Thanksgiving, with Amias.
“Shall I live, or shall I die?”
“Trinity, get in the house. Get in the house!”
“I made a mistake.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Pain ripping through me, Children screaming, death, blood, flesh tearing and bones crunching and horror. Just horror.
But then I was back, surrounded by the infecteds, and I was…
Angry.
Vicious.
I no longer cared that their filth might get on me, that their blood might splash on my skin, that I might somehow contract their disease.
Again.
I was afraid of none of those things.
I was Death, and with Silverlight in my grip, I ripped through the hungry vampires, screaming, my teeth clenched, my heart singing. I lost my mind.
But then I saw something that brought my sanity screaming back to me, and fear chased away the dark rage.
Angus.
He roared into the clearing, his horns wicked, his body huge and black, muscle bunching and rippling, deadly. But maybe even Angus could become infected. And that terrified me.
“No,” I screamed. “Angus, go back.”
He caught a vampire with his horns, speared him through his chest, then shook him off and stomped another with his huge hooves before goring another one.
Blood flew.
Death had come to the woods of Raeven’s Road, and I was not the only one carrying it.
Angus wouldn’t listen to reason as a man, and he for damn sure wasn’t listening to it as his animal. He roared and tossed his head and gored anyone in his path, and he was magnificent.
All I could do was help him.
The human female was dead, and the male lay sprawled across the bloody ground, torn open, his intestines spilling from his body. He twitched, his right hand opening and closing, his eyes staring.
I ran Silverlight through his heart and put him out of his misery.
And with a disorienting abruptness, the ground was littered with the dead and the world was quiet. Angus’s kills lay with torn apart bodies, entrails steaming in the cold air, but with the ability to come back. To rise.
I set about rectifying that.
And when I’d finished giving the diseased their true death, I sheathed the sword, fell to my knees, and sobbed. The night had been too much and I was only human, after all.
Mostly.
Angus shifted to his human form and pulled me to my feet. He wrapped his arms around me, murmuring quietly into my ear.
“You shouldn’t have come,” I wailed. “You could be infected.”
“I’m not infected, honey.”
I wiped my eyes and leaned back in his arms to look up at him. “You don’t know that. There’s no cure, Angus. You have those many, many children to look after. You can’t be doing stupid shit like this!”
“Hush now,” he said, but his eyes twinkled. “Shifters can’t catch a nasty vampire disease.”
I sniffed, and the beginnings of an enormous, hopeful relief began to drift through me. “How do you know?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Trinity. I know.”
And there in the woods, with the dead all around me, with the horror of that night—Shane, humans, infecteds—still heavy on my mind, I began to notice other things.
Like his scent. That irresistible, unforgettable, delicious scent. It forced the decaying smell of death and disease out of my nostrils, out of my brain. I inhaled it eagerly, glad to rid myself of the stench of infecteds.
He stiffened against me, in more ways than one.
“Fuck,” he muttered when my eyes widened.
Perhaps he thought I’d berate him for his reaction, but I had my own reaction. High on the aftereffects of battle, I pressed my palms against his bare chest and stood on tiptoe to brush my lips against his.
“Trin,” he said, his voice hoarse and raw and strained. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know.” But whatever it was, I wanted to do it.
He slammed his mouth against mine, then grabbed my ass and pushed his erection against me. His kiss was intrusive and hard and filled with lust and need and desire, and I lost myself in it, unable to do otherwise. I couldn’t have fought his overwhelming sexual power even if I’d wanted to.
No wonder he had so many children. Women would be helpless against him. I was helpless against him. Maybe helpless was the wrong word. I was helpless against the sexual need exploding inside me. I wanted him. I wanted Angus Stark.
My body wanted sex.
His heat spread through me, burning me up, devouring me, and I gasped against his lips. His hard fingers bit into my rear almost painfully as he explored my mouth, and he held me there against him. I was little more than a rag doll in his arms, a shivering, seething mass of sex and emotion, and I was certain I’d never felt so good in my entire life.
And then he thrust me from him and backed away, hastily, desperately, inexplicably.
“No.” I swayed on my feet, unable to keep my balance. “What?”
“You’re not you,” he said. “I don’t take advantage of women.” And with his fists clenched, his naked butt cheeks plump and hard and tempting, he strode away from me.
“Son of a bitch,” I murmured, and unable to avert my stare from his nude body, I tailed him all the way to his truck.
Chapter Twenty-Two
For some reason, throwing myself at Clayton, even though I’d had a damn good reason, embarrassed me more than my encounter with Angus.
Angus was…Angus. Women threw themselves at him all the time. He was used to it. He’d understand. He’d wait for it to invariably happen again and would likely wonder only why it’d taken me so long to notice his hotness.
I rolled my eyes even as I sat in the truck pretending not to watch him through the side mirror as he got dressed. Shifters always carried extra clothes with them.
His muscles bunched as he pulled a black t-shirt over his head, and when he’d smoothed it over his flat stomach, he paused to look my way. Smiling.
God.
He’d be even more insufferable than usual now.
I shivered and turned the heater fan down a notch. The sky was a lighter shade of black, and I dreaded going home to bed. No matter how exhausted I was, I would replay over and over and over every single moment that had occurred that night.
“Shane,” I murmured, regretfully.
The vehicle dipped when Angus climbed in under the wheel. “We’ll get it sorted out. Shane is well aware of the risks that come with hunting vampires.”
I shook my head. “I doubt he was aware of the risks of hunting vampires with me. And those two dead humans…”
“I’ll take care of it.” He reached over to squeeze my knee, and I jerked as the warmth traveled up my thigh. Perhaps he meant the squeeze to be comforting. It wasn’t. “Everything will be okay, Trinity.”
Finally, he put his hand on the steering wheel, where it belonged, and drove us away from Raeven’s Road.
I watched Shane’s truck grow smaller and smaller in the mirror until finally, it disappeared. “What about his truck?”
“I’ll send someone for it,” he growled.
“Do you think Amias will heal him?” I asked after we’d driven in silence for a few miles. “Or do you think he’ll turn him?” Either way, Shane would live. And either way, he would hate me.
“I don’t know,” Angus said.
“Shane will come after me.”
“No, he won’t.”
I turned my head to look at him. “He’s going to want to kill me.”
He didn’t take his stare off the road, but he smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Trin, no matter how pissed he might be, he wou
ld never kill another hunter. Especially not a bloodhunter. Also, if he goes at you with the intent of doing you harm, I will stomp him into the ground.”
And it was only when I felt a certain amount of relief at his words that I realized how scared I was of Shane Copas.
Pathetic, but true.
“It’s said,” Angus went on, his voice rough and deep and steady, “that hunters are connected somehow. The way vampires are connected. Vampires can’t kill each other. They can’t kill themselves, either. Don’t worry about Copas.”
I said nothing.
“Even if you don’t trust me to take care of the situation,” he continued, “trust the fact that hunters have a connection. He won’t hurt you.”
“If he tries,” I said, after a while “I’ll have to defend myself.”
I could feel his curious stare. “Of course you will. Why wouldn’t you?”
“I gave him to Amias.”
“Ah,” he said. “So you think you’ve hurt him enough.”
“I guess.” I lay my head back against the seat and closed my eyes, and despite the filth on my clothes and body and the worry on my mind, I fell asleep in the warm, dark, secure cave of Angus Stark’s truck cab.
I woke up, startled and struggling, when Angus pulled me out of the truck and into his arms. “Settle down,” he said, striding with me toward the front door.
Angus was a domineering brute, but after a moment of bleary-eyed acknowledgment of that fact, I snuggled against his warm chest and let him pack me into the silent, sleeping house.
He set me on my bed, then strode into the little en suite washroom. I yawned, nearly cracking my jaw, and heard the shower start. He came back out and stood with his hands on his hips, staring at me.
“Water’s getting hot,” he said, finally. “Go clean up so you can get some sleep.”
I nodded. “Angus…thank you.”
He gave me a nod, then turned and stomped from the bedroom, angrier than when he’d gone in. I didn’t have the energy to try to figure him out, so I shrugged, grabbed some clean clothes, and headed for the bathroom. It was going to take me a good long while to scrub that hard night off my body.
And I took my time, because I wasn’t looking forward to lying alone in that bed.
