"It's Macan—"
"Macan Guffin? Is that old coot hurt again?" Old Mac Guffin might be a scoundrel, but damn it, she liked the cagey Scotsman. The hunter landed in her ER at least once a month, always due to "drinking-related" accidents.
Compelled by concern, she turned away, saying, "Let me grab a first aid kit."
Daniel caught her arm and stopped her. "He's missing."
"Oh?" She faced him again, no less concerned but for different reasons now. The context told her something supernatural must somehow be involved, or he would've just gone through official channels. As a county sheriff, Daniel had statewide law enforcement resources at his disposal. After a moment of consideration, she pulled him into an alcove where they could speak privately.
Intent, Daniel explained in a low voice. "Macan has been over in Granite Creek for a couple days now. The last time I spoke with him was yesterday. He was supposed to check in at noon, but I didn't hear from him."
"Uh..." She cleared her throat. "Not to be rude but have you called the local bars? I mean, four hours isn't that long."
Daniel flashed a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I did."
"Didn't find him?" Which didn't mean Macan wasn't there—the man did have one helluva reputation...
"He's not in a bar, Victoria. I'll admit, Macan likes to drink but the man is also a competent hunter. He promised me he'd be in touch no later than two. I tried calling his hotel too. They said he left around ten this morning and never returned. A hunter gone missing in Granite Creek isn't an isolated incident either. I have a bad feeling about this."
"You should trust your instincts." And so should she. The smart choice dictated she put her faith in Daniel's judgement. Although they were only acquaintances—who'd dated once—they'd hunted together on several occasions. She knew enough about his character to elevate a matter of concern to him to her highest priority. His reputation, much like his father's, preceded him.
Daniel stared at her. His face twisted as though he wanted to frown but then he pulled a bashful smile. "Thanks."
Warmth suffused her. "You're welcome. So, do you want to tell me about the other incidents? I presume that means other hunters have gone MIA."
"Macan is the third hunter in the last hundred years to vanish in Granite Creek," Daniel said, deadly serious.
The unexpected information threw her for a loop. Strange. If hunters were going missing anywhere in Arizona, she'd have expected to have heard about it before now. But then, he'd cited a century...
"Three hunters is a lot, but a century is a long time. It's a dangerous profession—"
"They all went missing on Halloween."
Chapter Two
* * * *
Poise shaken, Victoria parroted what he'd said, "All three? Gone missing on Halloween?"
Daniel dropped a nod. "Yeah."
"Okay, that's got to be more than a coincidence." She didn't mind conceding the point, especially since the matter had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.
"So, will you help me?" He shifted with restless energy. She got the distinct impression that the explanation given thus far had already taxed his patience.
"Uh..." Normally, she'd have agreed immediately. When an ally made a genuine request for assistance, her people had an obligation to honor it. But tonight... Tonight was different. Her face pulled in uncomfortable ways, betraying the stab of discomfort. If she missed Winter Nights, her mother would kill her. Victoria wasn't afraid to cross her mother—she did so often enough that it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. However, the prospect of missing the sacrifice filled her with trepidation.
Not if you have my blessing, Freya quipped.
"What's wrong?" Daniel asked, picking up on her distress.
"It's Winter Nights. I'm supposed to be celebrating tonight with my family," Victoria supplied, although she expected him to have absolutely no understanding what the holiday involved.
"Oh. Right." He rubbed a finger across his upper lip. "That's tonight, huh?"
"Yes, it's tonight. I'm supposed to be slaughtering a goat."
His eyebrows knit but then he grinned. "You've got the strangest sense of humor of any woman I've ever met."
"I'm not kidding. Tonight is important. You need me, specifically?" The last thing she wanted to do was dismiss him but realistically, she found it difficult to believe that Daniel required her particular assistance—that no one else would do. Aside from his law enforcement connections, the man must have a hundred hunters at his beck and call at any given moment. If this was just another ploy to get her out on a date, as she suspected, then she preferred to refuse. The gods reacted poorly when not properly honored; she had no desire to incur their wrath.
Pffft... I can hear you. Freya added a rude, quite un-goddess-like sound effect.
Victoria rolled her eyes heavenward. I'm sorry, My Lady. Of course I didn't mean you. I was thinking of Freyr.
Don't be such a worrywart. I can handle my brother. Besides—the goddess conveyed a thorough up-down of Daniel Barrett that was just loaded with subtext—it may be you'll find some other perfectly acceptable sacrifice to substitute. Honestly, goats are so boring.
I'll be sure to mention your opinions to my mother the next time the topic comes up. Victoria pressed her hands to her sides, fighting laughter. She noted Daniel watching her, gauging her reactions. Poor guy probably thought she was mad.
"I suspect the disappearances involve a powerful spirit. I don't have many other options." His handsome face contorted with worry.
"What sort of spirit?" She tipped her face toward him, interest piqued. Ghosts really were her specialty and spiritualists tended to be rare. Maybe his need for her help was genuine.
"Okay, here's the thing... I'm not really sure."
She frowned. "So you think Macan may or may not have been kidnapped by a ghost, but you're uncertain."
"Correct. Look, the whole history is complicated. It'd take too long to explain right now." He grimaced. "And yeah, I know what you're thinking—"
"Which is what, exactly?" Victoria asked archly. She was pretty much right back to assuming he'd contrived a genuine-sounding scenario to lure her someplace romantic. Oh, no doubt some minor but otherwise unremarkable supernatural creature awaited their investigation. After all, Daniel hadn't lied...
And another thought occurred to her—why the hell wasn't Jake Barrett looking into the matter himself? The Hunter King didn't just stand aside doing nothing when his people were in trouble.
"My father's in Mexico," Daniel said in answer to her unspoken question.
"You could've gone to my parents." She sharpened her tone, pressing because this was pretty much the final test. "My mother is a powerful medium also."
"I prefer to work with you." He bared his teeth in an exceedingly wolf-like expression. Direct score: the man had just earned ten thousand bonus points.
"Okay. Let's go, but I will have to call my parents and explain." She had Freya's sanction and the treaty obligating her to his aid. In her head, Victoria tore up her plans for a quiet, boring weekend and tossed the confetti.
Freya snort-giggled. Please. Who are you kidding? Danger girl...
A smile curved her compressed lips. Who me? Yeah, all right. But that's the polite way of saying it.
"Just like that?" Surprise parted Daniel's lips.
"You said it's urgent. Your reasons are solid. You're not lying—" Her acute sense of smell would've picked up on alterations to his basal odor if he had. "And we're allies. I assume you wouldn't drop into my work without calling if it wasn't important."
"I called—twice. It went to voice mail."
"I don't carry my cell phone on the floor." She hadn't since the last one had gotten destroyed by an overdosing meth addict who'd bludgeoned her with an oxygen tank. A long story—she really didn't want to repeat it. So she added, "I'm sorry. I usually check it after my shift but I was in a hurry to get out of here."
"I'll explain more in the car," he said.
Together, they exited the ER via the sliding door and headed toward the parking lot. Victoria hesitated. "I assume you want to take one car. I'd rather not leave mine unattended in the employee parking lot."
He nodded. "I'll follow you over to your place. It'll give you a chance to pack an overnight bag."
"Are you sure this isn't just an excuse to get me alone again?" She flashed a grin, willing to joke now that she'd accepted his story.
"No. I wish it were." His gaze ate her up. "And I don't need excuses to do that."
"All right then." She flushed, pure pleasure. "I don't need to pack. I have a go-bag." The rush of anticipation charged her with a natural high. For all Victoria's protestations, her goddess had pretty much pegged it—there was nothing she loved better than adventure.
"You really have a go-bag?" Daniel arched his brow.
"Course I do," she returned smoothly. "Don't you?"
He chuckled. "Your point."
* * * *
The open road was a pleasure. The muscle car's engine revved as the 1970 Chevelle SS 454 convertible hugged the curve of scenic Highway 89 which connected Phoenix and Granite Creek. The wind noise from having the top down combined with the AC/DC song to create a deafening din.
"For a man who gave me a damn speeding ticket, you drive like a bat out of hell!" Victoria yelled to the man behind the wheel.
"What?" Daniel glanced over at her, confusion on his face.
She sucked a deep breath. "I said—"
"Sorry, I can't hear you!"
When they wanted to talk, they pretty much had to shout. Not that Victoria minded—she hated the strained meaningless chit chat that was the standard fare of first and second dates. This was much nicer.
She sank into the plush, white leather bucket seat on the passenger side and dropped her right hand to the underside, seeking the controls. Once her fingers came into contact with the knob, she eased the seat back a few inches so she had an unimpaired view of the sky above. The setting sun cast a reddish blush across the western sky. The stars weren't visible yet, but soon—
When Victoria had called home an hour ago, she'd gotten both her parents on the phone at the same time in a three-way conference call. Unlike Jake Barrett, Adair Storm had no rules about who his people were allowed to date. As a principle, Victoria preferred to be honest. Bluntness defined her personal style so she'd come right out and stated the facts upfront—
"Mom, Dad, I'm going with Daniel Barrett to Granite Creek, so I'm going to miss the Winter Nights ceremony. This is for a case involving a missing hunter and a ghost. He specifically requested my help."
Silence fell, during which Victoria gnawed her lower lip. She suspected an emergency parental powwow was underway, complete with hands over receivers and a heated but whispered exchange. She wound up holding her breath, straining to hear anything, while cursing the short-range nature of the bond—an empathetic connection that united all the wolves of the Storm Pack. If she'd been proximate, the union would've allowed her knowledge of their emotions.
"Have fun and be careful," Katherine said with so much enthusiasm that Victoria rocked on her heels and almost toppled.
"Daniel Barrett is a good man," Adair seconded with far more restraint.
"I don't like Jake Barrett much—"
"Now, Kitty. We've had this discussion a million times. He's an honorable ally—"
"I'm not questioning his honor, Dear, only his geniality—"
Victoria winced. Her father was right. She'd heard this same argument more times than she could count. "Guys, please—"
"Beside the point, I agree with your father. Daniel Barrett is a good man. An excellent hunter. He'll make a fine mate and father."
"Mom!" To her acute embarrassment, Victoria squawked and then mentally cursed her lack of control. She should've expected this.
"Don't forget you're twenty-three, Victoria. It's past time you chose a mate and settled down. All of my friends with daughters your age are already grandmothers."
"Mom, this isn't a date! Dad, will you please?"
"Now, Katherine. It's only their second date. Give them a chance to get to know each other before you start planning the handfasting."
Katherine snorted. "At this point, I'm ready to skip the formalities. Sylvie promised to teach me to knit as soon as there's a baby on the way. Victoria's next heat is this January so the timing is perfect..."
The tenor of the engine changed, slowing, and Daniel cranked down the volume of the music. "Why are you growling?"
Startled, Victoria muted her snarl and ducked her head, all too aware her cheeks were hot enough to fry eggs. Thankfully, the fading light provided some camouflage. "Nothing, sorry—"
"I'm stopping for gas," he said and she nodded.
Daniel pulled off onto an unmarked dirt side road that looked like nothing more than an ATV trail. Around them, the landscape remained high desert—brush and thorny bushes. As they continued to ascend in elevation, the rolling hills would give away to more rugged and mountainous terrain.
Proceeding at no more than five miles per hour, he followed it for a quarter mile or so, around a bend. Lo and behold, a small gas station was tucked behind a rocky hill, hidden from view of the main road. He pulled beside a pair of old-fashioned pumps covered in cracked and peeling yellow paint. The place looked like it dated to the same era as the Chevelle.
While they parked, Victoria craned her neck, surveying their surroundings. No one else was around, though she detected movement within the lit interior of the small convenience store. "How on earth did you find this place?"
"Dad owns it. He has a few dozen places like this around the Southwest. You know, so we have guaranteed access to fuel when the world ends." Daniel said it like it was meant to be a joke but the underlying seriousness of his tone gave her pause.
"It'd figure your father would be a doomsayer," Victoria quipped, her tone light and quick. "Why—"
He grimaced. "I need to check in with Jaycee. Give me a sec."
"Sure." She really wanted to ask who Jaycee was but practiced restraint. She didn't need to know all the hunter's secrets. In just a couple short hours, she'd already learned more than she wanted—and that was good enough for her.
While he disappeared inside the small building, Victoria got out and paced around the Chevelle, stretching her legs. Normally, Daniel kept the vehicle's bright red exterior washed and waxed to gleaming. Two black racing stripes ran down the front hood. However, the front grille and windshield already bore a layer of bug splatter—a hazard of desert driving.
After a cursory inspection, Victoria set about cleaning the glass with the Windex and squeegee she found beside the pump. Reaching all the way across required her to lean over the hood, which was still pretty hot.
"Man, the view out here is spectacular!"
Victoria paused in the act of drawing back the squeegee and glanced over her shoulder. Daniel wasn't staring at the landscape. She harrumphed and grinned, but completed her task. She leaned against the driver side fender and watched while he gassed the car.
Daniel set the arm of the pump to autofill and faced her. He propped himself on his arm and tilted so his angle mirrored hers. He stretched his arms overhead, working out kinks in his neck and shoulders. The fabric of his shirt strained over thick, hard muscles.
"So, tell me what we're up against." Victoria forced her attention away from the male eye candy and back onto business. They weren't on a date; the matter of Mac Guffin's disappearance demanded their utmost consideration.
He nodded. "Okay, sure. I'll start with Macan. You know he's interested in his family history, right?"
Victoria scoffed. "Interested is a bit of an understatement."
Whenever she ran into the Scotsman, he talked her ear off. The last time she'd seen Guffin, he'd come into the ER to have his forearm set and regaled her with his notable ancestry. Macan boasted of his genealogy, "I'm the bastard son of a bastard son going all the way back to William
Wallace."
"You're a bastard something. That's for sure," Victoria quipped, while wrapping his arm in the cast.
"Oh, you're a mean one, Lassie." He offered her a shameless grin, naming her after a Border Collie without a hint of irony or fear for his life. "Why is it you're not married?"
"Because I've been waiting for you to ask me, you old coot."
"Well, I hate to break your heart, darling, but I'm a lifelong bachelor. Committed to my calling."
"Committed to the bottle is more like." She smacked Mac on the shoulder.
"Oh now, there you go—mean." Together, they shared a good laugh before he took his broken arm and headed home to whatever adventure—or bottle—awaited him next.
Frowning, Victoria forced her attention back to the present. It made her ill to think that the hospital visit might be the last time she'd ever see the hunter. Determination filled her. She swore it wouldn't be so, and added a prayer for good measure. She and Daniel were unified in their purpose.
"Macan's father passed away about six months ago," Daniel said. "He inherited a whole bunch of boxes. I imagine it took him a while to work through the contents but eventually he found his great-grandfather's journals."
"He must've been thrilled."
"Heh. That's one way to describe it." He flashed a ready grin. "The final journal entry supposedly went right up to the day before Patrick Guffin disappeared."
"Patrick was his great-grandfather?"
"Yeah. He went missing when his kids were young. After an exhaustive search, he was presumed killed in action."
"Patrick was a hunter?"
"Yes. Macan's grandfather refused the calling but his father took up hunting in the seventies." He waved his hand. "This was all before my time so my facts may be a bit off, but it's what I recall."
"I understand. What year did Patrick vanish?"
He frowned, thinking. "1945? '46? I'd have to check the logs again."
"And what was he hunting?"
"He wasn't hunting so much as investigating—a haunting." The fuel pump clicked full. Daniel put the arm back into its holster and screwed the cap back on the tank.
Victoria nodded. The haunting accounted for her presence. "And the first hunter? You said three men had disappeared."
Hunter's Mark: A Star-Crossed Book (Loki's Wolves 0) Page 2
