HUNTER'S
MARK
Star-Crossed Series
Part of the Loki's Wolves Universe
by
Melissa Snark
Dedication
To Shael
Acknowledgements
I'd like to express my appreciation to the lovely ladies who provided support and feedback: Sheryl R. Hayes, Rissa Watkins, and Janet Seavey. My profuse thanks to my editor, Marjorie AJ Cooke, and Shay VanZwoll of EV Proofreading.
Praise for Valkyrie's Vengeance
This book is a great time! It combines all the best elements of the paranormal with a spine-chilling mystery. Although short, it is a well-told story full of twists and turns. The author has a light easy-going touch with a descriptive style that draws the reader into the action.
Although a little light on the shape-shifting aspect of the characters, the story explores other aspects of the supernatural, drawing inspiration from Viking mythology. This use of mythology in a modern way opens up a plethora of new ideas for the genre. “Valkyrie’s Vengeance” is a nice easy read, perfect for unwinding after work or on a Sunday afternoon.
InD'Tale Magazine
12/09/2015
Copyright
HUNTER'S MARK
Series: Loki's Wolves
ISBN-10: 1-942193-18-1
ISBN-13: 978-1-942193-18-0
COPYRIGHT © 2016 by Melissa Snark
All rights reserved.
Nordic Lights Press
First Edition
Previously published in ebook as part of the Shifters Hollows Eve anthology
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover design by Ravenborn Covers
Contact Information:
Email: [email protected]
Nordic Lights Press
P.O. Box 1347
Pleasanton, CA 94566
Published in the United States of America.
The author respects trademarks and copyrighted material mentioned in this book by introducing such registered items in italics or with proper capitalization.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, persons, places and incidents are all used fictitiously and are the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or locales is coincidental and non-intentional, unless otherwise specifically noted.
Book Description
ER Nurse Victoria Storm anticipates a joyous Winter Nights ceremony with her wolf-shifter pack, but a determined hunter upsets all her plans. Daniel Barrett wants her help because he suspects a ghost is behind his friend's disappearance. As a pagan priestess and spirit-speaker, she can discover things he can't. He's as sexy as he is persistent—she finds him impossible to refuse. Throw in a trip to a remote Arizona town, a haunted hotel, and a lost gold mine, and their evening is about to get interesting.
Chapter One
Special Reader Bonus!
Before we start... Be sure to subscribe to my newsletter for free reads, exclusive sneak peeks, and giveaways. Get a free story just for signing up! You'll also have the chance to scoop up new releases for 99 cents and enter fantastic giveaways.
* * * *
A scream tore across the hall. Before Victoria Storm turned around, the pounding of footsteps and the crash of a medical gurney joined the cacophony behind her.
"Clear the way! Coming through." A male medic, one of her coworkers, shouted the warning.
Victoria turned sideways and pressed her back to the wall to make way for the gurney rushing toward her. A medical team from the ER clutched the railed sides, propelling and directing its motion. It conveyed a middle-aged man in a white t-shirt spattered with red and orange. Blood and pumpkin. Fresh gauze swathed his left hand and one of the nurses mentioned replantation.
She shook her head. A shame—that counted as the fifteenth severe pumpkin-carving accident since her twelve-hour shift had started. In a couple hours, once it started to get dark, trick-or-treaters who'd been mowed down by inattentive motorists would pour in alongside various gravity and costume-related mishaps. Oh, and she must not forget the odd allergic reaction. While she didn't know the statistics right offhand, she would've bet good money that Halloween qualified as America's most dangerous holiday.
Instinct urged her to attach herself to the team but she quelled it. Despite conscious choice, her fingers twitched. Rationality versus reflex. However, her natural inclination as both a registered nurse and a healer ran counter to practical concerns. Technically, her shift was over even though she still needed to punch out. Plus, she had personal obligations that evening.
Ultimately, practicality won out. The gurney team swept past and their voices were lost to the overall din of the busy hospital. Victoria turned and tracked their progress. The scent of fresh blood and fear lingered and her stomach emitted a mild complaint, reminding her that she'd skipped lunch. The scents and sights of the Emergency Room didn't bother her. She couldn't—wouldn't—let it get to her. As a wolf shifter, she'd developed an iron stomach and strict self-control.
Hunger in reaction to a patient's injuries meant she'd made the right call. The second her wolf started regarding people as a potential meal, it was time to log out and head home. Hurrying her steps, she reached the staff room and punched out at 4:06 p.m. She recovered her belongings from her locker, grabbed a quick shower, and changed into a short-sleeve top and low-rise jeans, then slipped her feet into a pair of flip flops. Pulling out a handful of hairpins, she freed the single fat braid that bound her platinum blonde hair. It hung to her waist.
She stuffed her belongings into her bag and ducked out of the staff room just as a couple of her coworkers were entering. They exchanged pleasantries in passing, but Victoria deliberately avoided engaging in a conversation that would further delay her departure. In just a few hours, the whole area would be inundated with restless spirits and things darker still. The sunset heralded the onset of the night of the year when the veil was at its thinnest and the world of the dead intersected with that of the living.
When it happened, sites of frequent violence, injury, and death such as old battle fields, hospitals, and cemeteries were the worst places for a spiritualist to be. Victoria had gotten stuck in the ER once on All Hallow's Eve and she'd sworn—never again.
Tilting back her head, Victoria offered a quick prayer of gratitude. Thank you, Goddess—I don't have to work tonight...
Freya's lilting laughter filled her mind. I can hardly take credit for your work schedule, My Priestess... Heads up—behind you.
Victoria executed a neat one-eighty, turning on the ball of her foot, and came face-to-face with a blonde woman. She wore a skirt-suit but her body blurred into a ghostly whorl at the knees. Her face bore evidence of severe trauma—massive bruises and broken bones.
"Excuse me." The spirit reached for Victoria with a shaking hand. "Can you help me, please? I can't find my children."
"I'm sorry. Who are your children?" Victoria stepped back, evading the spirit's icy grasp. Her gaze strayed to a glowing white light that followed in the woman's wake. The portal meandered, swaying like a bobbing ship. To Victoria's experienced assessment, the gateway looked frustrated, which definitely matched her current mood. The dead woman couldn't—or wouldn't— cross over until she attended to her unsettled business.
"Their names are Evan and Gail Sanders." Tears flooded the ghost's eyes and her mouth quivered.
"Are they lost?" Victoria asked in a gentle voice, struggling not to worry abo
ut the unplanned delay. She'd only had another five hundred feet to go before she made it out the door. Naturally, the distraught dead woman had latched onto the only medium in the entire ER.
"I don't know. Maybe. I don't know where they are and no one will help me."
"Don't cry. I'll help you." Convenient or not, she would commit to the endeavor even though she had no obligations to do so. Victoria cast a quick glance about to make sure she wasn't being watched. The last thing she needed was a co-worker observing while she interacted with someone who "wasn't there". She already had the unfortunate reputation for being eccentric—she hated adding to it.
Once Victoria determined the coast was clear, she addressed the spirit. "Ms. Sanders—"
"Burke. I'm divorced."
"Burke." Victoria grimaced. "Come with me and I'll check the intake records. Were you with your children when you got—" She hesitated, policing her words.
In all likelihood, Ms. Burke was unaware she'd died. An unexpected revelation could startle the spirit into destabilizing. If that happened, she'd vanish. For a while anyway. But eventually, inevitably, the spirit would reappear, repeating the same behaviors until her presence in the ER became a matter of habit. The last thing Victoria needed at work was yet another recurrent haunting.
"We were in a car crash, I think..." Ms. Burke frowned. Static disrupted her form—a sign of distress.
"I'm so sorry. Can you please tell me more about your children?" Victoria asked in an attempt to distract the spirit. She located an unused computer terminal and logged in using her employee identification and password. "You have a boy and a girl?"
"Yes, Evan is eight. Gail is six. We were on our way over to a friend's house to trick or treat. The children were arguing in the back seat. I only turned my head away from the road for a second..." The woman crackled and turned transparent.
"Stay with me—" Victoria's fingers flew across the keyboard. She entered the boy's name and hit enter, and then waited while the sluggish database processed the request. The maddening blinking cursor... She clenched her hands against the urge to seize the monitor and throw it. If the terminal crapped out and returned a fault code, she swore—
The screen blipped and the computer returned results for the search. Victoria released a held breath in a sigh of relief. "Here it is. Your son has been admitted to the Phoenix Children's Hospital with minor injuries."
"Oh, thank God! And my daughter?" Ms. Burke clasped her hands together in thanks. Her appearance became solid again.
"Gail is at Phoenix Children's with him."
"Thank you, God." Tears streaked the mother's face.
"Was anyone else in the vehicle with you?" Victoria asked, stealing an anxious glance at the clock on the wall. 4:33 p.m. already. The sun would set at 5:37 p.m. and it would take her at least twenty minutes in Phoenix's rush hour traffic to reach her parent's house. Time was running out.
Ms. Burke shook her head. "No, we were alone. My husband, Bill, is still at work. He was going to join us later."
Victoria logged off the computer. "Good. He'll be contacted by the authorities. Now let's get you where you need to go—"
"To my children?"
"Eventually," Victoria fibbed. "Probably, sooner or later. Now turn around. See that white light behind you?"
"Yes, but I don't—"
Clenching her teeth, Victoria reached out and pressed both hands flat against the middle of the ghost's back. Ice shot through her palms and fingers but she ignored the sensation and shoved with all her strength. A dubious bonus of being a spirit seer/speaker included being able to touch them as well, though it was never pleasant.
A startled yelp tore from the ghost. She tumbled, falling straight into the neglected gateway that had been trailing her this whole time. The glowing globe and the ghost collided. Brightness strobed. Both vanished.
"Whew." Victoria huffed.
In her mind, Freya giggled. That wasn't nice.
Maybe not, but it got the job done. Victoria resumed her journey toward the entrance. Weariness rode her shoulders so she walked with her head bowed. Although she had preternatural stamina, the sixty-hour week she'd just put in had taken its toll. She couldn't wait to get home. The Winter Nights ceremonies would be exacting, but after they killed the goats there would be feasting—mead and wine, song and dance. Quite probably—once everyone was sufficiently in their cups—a Howl.
Oh, and most importantly, she had the next three days off... She planned to do absolutely nothing but relax.
As she approached the nurse's station adjacent to the ER lobby, the voices of her female coworkers caught Victoria's attention. She looked up. An orderly—Crystal something or other—stood while an RN, Misty Greer, sat.
"...that belt buckle is just too perfect! Oh my god, he looks like a porn star with that thing on!"
"Crystal, shh—" Misty hissed, shooting Victoria a decided look.
"How big do you think his package is?" Crystal cracked bubble gum at a frenetic pace with her mouth wide open.
Victoria slowed her steps but didn't stop. Vague disgust circled her... What, was this high school? They were all in their twenties.
"Shh!" Panic on her face, Misty waved a frantic hand to stop.
Undeterred, Crystal continued to gossip and chew. "Dressed like that, he's either huge or compensating in a big, big way for a teeny-tiny—"
Misty grinned and all but shouted. "Oh, hey, Victoria! Are you just getting off?"
Crystal gulped and then choked on her gum.
"Uh, yes." Victoria paused at last. Her gaze shifted between the two women. She didn't know. Didn't want to know. "I have the next three days off."
"Lucky you!"
"Thanks." Victoria smiled. She wasn't lucky. The time off came as the result of careful planning and budgeting her paid vacation days. Her request for these dates had been on her boss's desk—in writing—since last December when the schedule for the coming year opened for requests.
Without turning her head, Misty whacked her friend on the back. The piece of gum popped out of Crystal's mouth and she doubled forward, gasping for air.
"Boy, am I jealous. I'm scheduled to work for the next four days."
"Don't work too hard."
"I won't. You have fun with your boyfriend."
"I don't have a boyfriend." Not at the moment anyway.
"Then you've got the hottest stalker I've ever laid eyes on." Misty grinned and aimed her finger toward the lobby, currently hidden behind the partition. She mouthed, "He's waiting for you."
Brow raised, Victoria turned and moved in the direction indicated. As soon as she passed the partition, she got a clear view of the ER lobby. A dozen or so patients waited to be seen, including a couple superheroes and a man wearing a banana costume. Her gaze flew straight past them.
A dangerous man occupied an entire row of three vinyl seats. He sat in the center chair and manspread—his arms draped across seatbacks to either side, legs splayed wide. He had dark brown hair cut short and a clean-shaven jaw, and warm eyes the color of fresh-baked brownies. His smile was as inviting as a sandy white beach.
Victoria huffed. She wasn't fooled. Not for one beat of her racing heart. The man was a predator—a hunter from a family with a reputation for short-lived enemies. Wolf shifters and hunters... natural enemies except for an unlikely alliance forged by two exceptional men, one of whom was Victoria's father, Adair Storm. The other—Jake Barrett, the Hunter King. For almost three decades, the Storm Pack had coexisted peacefully with the hunters. They shared the Phoenix Metropolitan Area. They often coordinated their activities and pooled resources for the sake of defending their overlapping territories. The rest of the time, they left each other alone.
Daniel Barrett pushed to his feet, planting his short, black work boots evenly on the chipped white subway tile. He had the tattoo of a black dagger on his upper arm—among the hunters the symbol functioned as a mark of belonging and brotherhood. Aviator sunglasses were hooked on the thro
at of his shirt. He wore glove-tight Levis that jealously hugged his long legs, and a revolver strapped to his thigh, right beside the shiny Maricopa County Sheriff shield on his belt which was dwarfed—Crystal hadn't exaggerated its size—by a big brass Winchester Repeating Arms belt buckle.
The hunter's intense gaze settled on her and he flashed a bad boy smile that curled her toes. The temperature in the lobby spiked at least twenty degrees—a sure sign the A/C had gone out. Oh man, if she could bottle his charm and brew a potion, she'd never have to work again.
Victoria crushed her answering smile, sinking her teeth into her lower lip. She refused to encourage him. Their one and only date had gone well, but it'd been over a week ago. In that time, she hadn't heard from him again. The silence confirmed her misgivings, and she assumed he'd arrived at the same conclusion she had—wolves and hunters didn't mix.
Squaring her shoulders, Victoria marched straight up to him. Trouble was, her diminutive stature undermined the effect; balanced on her tippy-toes, she barely reached five feet. The top of her head only came to the middle of the hunter's torso and he looked down on her, as a matter of course. Throughout her life, she'd endured enough teasing about her height that she'd developed a teensy-tiny attitude problem.
"I need your help," Daniel announced without preamble. He had a deep, resonant baritone, pleasing to the ear. "It's urgent."
"Urgent, how?" She cocked her head and tilted toward him out of sharpened concern. The movement brought her braid over her shoulder. She tensed, mentally preparing to receive a request for off-the-record medical assistance. Monster hunting was a dangerous occupation; unusual injuries a commonplace hazard.
Hunter's Mark: A Star-Crossed Book (Loki's Wolves 0) Page 1
