All of this makes my job a lot more difficult. Let’s just say I’ve been wanted for murder more than once. Thank you, disguise.
Tonight’s look paints me as a pretty blonde with bright blue eyes and fair skin. In reality, I’m the opposite. With dark brown hair to my shoulders, it’s taken years of practice to figure out how to fit it all beneath the wig cap.
My eyes are easily concealed with colored contacts, but if I stand in this club too much longer, I’m going to start sweating through the layers of makeup hiding the enhanced nose and freckles I inherited from my mother.
I glance down the bar, my gaze traveling over the dozens of club-goers drinking and laughing without a care in the world. I’ve never had that luxury. Since losing my parents in a freak accident when I was twelve, my older sister Delaney took the reins and made sure I knew all about the supernatural world our parents died trying to protect.
It’s one of the reasons I became a cop and the main reason I worked my ass off to make Detective. Which I finally did the year I turned thirty-five, two years ago. Since she was seven years older than me, Delaney took the brunt of the hunting duties while I went through the academy. She was a damned good hunter until her death two years ago—and no, that’s not a coincidence. She died the same night I made Detective. I was out celebrating, and she was getting her throat ripped out by a pack of Wolf Shifters in a dark alley filled with piss and trash.
Grief clenches my heart—a vise squeezing until tears burn the corners of my eyes. Not here. Not tonight. Later, I can focus on my guilt, on the pain. But doing so now will only kill my focus.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
Straightening in my seat, I lock eyes with the bartender. His dark hair is cut short, barely reaching his ears. Baby blue eyes study me curiously, so I throw him a kind smile. “No, thanks.” I glance to my left, surprised to see the handsome stranger is gone. When the hell did he leave? I look behind me, searching the crowd. “Was there a man here?” I ask the bartender.
He looks over at the stool then back to me with a nod. “Stepped away as soon as I got over here.”
I don’t reply as I continue scanning the crowd for him. He was human, had a steady, normal heartbeat, but there’s a part of me—one rooted in instinct and my hunter heritage—that is uneasy with the interaction. Something about him…
“You sure about no drink? I’ve been told I make a mean mojito.” The bartender’s voice pulls my attention back to the present, and I glance up at him as he rests both palms on the bar top. Mojitos were Delaney’s favorite.
I shake my head. “I’m a designated driver tonight,” I lie smoothly. “Lost a bet.”
Nodding knowingly, he straightens. “Smart. Want a soda then?”
“Nope. All good.”
“Okay, let me know if you need anything. Name’s Jack.”
“Will do.”
He winks and turns away, walking to the other end of the bar where three busty brunettes and a blonde, who looks like she wishes she were anywhere else, are waiting for him. With one last glance at the stranger’s empty barstool, I take a deep breath and head back into the crowd. I make my way through the space, stopping as I reach the back door.
It’s damn near impossible to zero in on any particular sound. Pants, moaning, the chafing of fabric—it’s overwhelming. Maybe it’s time to head in. I’ve been here for well over three hours, and so far, aside from the sexy stranger at the bar, I’ve seen nothing out of the ordinary. Just as I’m reaching for the handle that will take me into the alley, a soft crunching sound catches my attention.
My head whips toward the noise, and I narrow my eyes, searching for the source. My gaze travels over dancers, a group of men doing lines of cocaine in the corner, until finally, I spot my target. A man, head lolled back, with a woman at his throat.
Shoving through the crowd, I palm my silver dagger as I move quietly. Movies would have you believe the bite is silent, but just like a hell of a lot of other things, they got it wrong. The crunching sound of canines stabbing into warm flesh is not one you forget.
As I approach, I slow my movements. The vamp could easily take out a handful of innocents in this bar, and the last thing I need is someone realizing that the night monsters are real. This particular vampire, a redhead wearing something I’m pretty sure doesn’t even constitute as a dress, has her hand in the guy’s pants, her teeth in his neck.
Some vampires have the ability to sexually arouse with their bite, something I’ve seen happen on more than one occasion. They get off on it—the vampires—as they offer their prey one last sexual experience before ripping their throats out.
To me, that’s even worse than the killing. The perversion of compelling someone to want it—I shiver and shove the horrible thoughts out of my head.
The man moans, grinding against her, and I slam into her shoulder, stumbling into the wall. She spins, and I throw a lopsided grin her way. “Sorry, lady. Didn’t mean to fuck with your buzz,” I slur. She narrows her gaze, and I’m hoping she’s sensing my hunter blood. It will make killing her a lot easier if she tries to run, or better yet, chase after me.
“Watch where you walk, bitch,” she spits at me, and warmth splatters my face.
Reaching up, I drag a finger over my cheek and pull it away. I can’t make out the exact tint of red—but the dark, sticky liquid can only be one thing. I smile up at her, no longer pretending to be hammered because, apparently, she didn’t get the fucking message.
Her red eyes widen, and she stares down at me with fear. Good. “Run,” I whisper, tilting my dagger so it catches the light. Her eyes dart down, and she shoves away, moving as quickly as she can through the crowd and to the exit sign I spotted earlier.
Adrenaline surges through my system, along with what my ancestors called The Hunt, a blast of supernatural energy that enhances my strength and speed. I feel the humming of it building inside of me, my body vibrating for the release only killing my prey can give me.
I burst outside right after her and immediately search the dark. I don’t see her right away, the putrid stench of the alley being the only thing I notice. Shit, this is pungent. So many different things to focus on, it takes all of my concentration to block them out. See, what is our greatest power can also be a weakness. When you are overwhelmed with a sense, it can get distracting.
Turning in a slow circle, I study my surroundings. The moon is covered by clouds tonight, casting the city in eerie darkness and making it difficult to see as I wait for my eyes to adjust. I hear the flapping of wings moments before three black crows land on top of the dumpster to my left. An omen of death. Perfect.
Palming my dagger, I listen and move just in time to avoid a body hitting me. The vampire crouches before me, fangs out, eyes glowing bright red. “You’re going to die tonight, hunter bitch,” she spits out.
“Not likely.” I continue moving, the vampire stalking my every move. “The way I see it, you’ll need at least one more of you to make it a fair fight.” Based on the brightness of her eyes and the fact that she didn’t recognize me, she’s fairly new, which means she’s weaker than other vamps I’ve faced off with.
She grins, the blood crusted around her mouth showcasing the feral animal she is. “You’ve grossly miscounted, Hunter.”
As she finishes speaking, the door to the club opens, and four male vampires walk out, canines bared. Well, this is unfortunate. “Now it’s a party,” I say, tossing my dagger up and gripping it by the blade, then tossing again and catching it by the hilt. My bravado is false. This is the largest number of vamps I’ve faced off with at one time.
Not that I worry about my life ending. I died two years ago in an alley where I was called to investigate a brutal murder victim who turned out to be my sister.
A flaxen-haired male moves slowly, stalking toward me. To his left, a male vampire, head completely shaved to the scalp, grins menacingly. Another, with slightly longer black hair curling over the edge of his ears, takes a step
to the right as though he’s trying to flank me.
The final male vampire, who’s rocking a black bandana and an Affliction T-shirt, claps his hands together. “Guess it’s hunter for dinner tonight, boys!”
“I should warn you, at this point in my life, I’m mostly Skittles. I’d hate for you to end up with a sugar high.”
He grins at me. “I like ’em sweet.”
The female vampire attacks, and I spin, slamming my fist into her ribs. With a grunt, she impacts with the brick wall, and one of the men—Affliction T-shirt—races for me. I move away from him, but not fast enough to miss the flaxen-haired vamp blurring toward me. He grips my blonde wig and yanks, sending it flying off my head. I duck and dodge, spinning around and catching the asshole with a foot.
He falls to the ground, and I don’t waste any time before pouncing, driving my dagger down into his heart. Without waiting to watch him die, I rip my blade out and roll to the side as Affliction tee pounces. His boot stomps down on my wrist, and I lose grip on my dagger as bones crunch. Son of a bitch. Pain radiates up my arm, but I know what will happen if I succumb to it. So, without wasting time, I lift my leg, wrapping it around Affliction’s leg as it currently pins my wrist to the ground, sending him backward, me on top of him. With my good hand, I slam my fist down into his nose, and warm blood splatters my face.
My vision blurs, a sign of what’s to come if I don’t calm the fuck down, so I take a deep breath and roll to the side, lunging for my dagger as the female vampire moves to grab it as well. I get it first and bring it up, but she knocks it to the side. The dark-haired vampire, who so far has been the only one not involved, grabs her, ripping her back and burying his fangs in her throat. He rips it out, and warm blood sprays me.
What the fuck? Since when did they start turning on their own?
Then, he turns to me as she stumbles back, falling against the wall. Someone roars.
“What the fuck are you doing, Kale? Do you want to bring more hunters down on us?” the dark-haired vampire scolds the one behind me.
“Too late,” a masculine voice growls as the bartender—Jack—rushes around the corner from the front of the club. Short blade in hand, he moves into the alleyway as the vampire who killed the female turns and climbs the fire escape. I get up to go for him but am rushed by Affliction—bloodied nose and all. I dive for my dagger and bring it up into the bottom of his jaw.
He crumbles, pinning me to the pavement as Jack removes the head of the bald vampire—the one who yelled when the female died. The creature’s head rolls to the side and smacks to the asphalt.
Jack rushes toward me and rips the now dead Affliction from me. Then, he reaches down and yanks me to my feet. I take a step back as Jack reaches back to the ground, lifting my blonde wig. “Here.”
“Thanks,” I mutter and slip my dagger into its holster before using my good hand to fix the wig back into place on top of my head. “I don’t recognize you,” I say, meeting his gaze before looking down at the fourth vampire bleeding to death on the pavement. I glance over at the fire escape. Fuck. One got away.
“I’m new to the area.” He slices down with his blade, taking the head off the vampire before kneeling and wiping the blood from his blade on the shirt of his most recent kill. “Got in last month. You going to be okay?” He gestures to my limp wrist, and I clutch it closer to my body.
I’m wary of newcomers—even other hunters. They can be a shifty bunch, wanting to take kills for themselves, and I’ve known quite a few who are more than willing to let another hunter die if it means taking their territory.
I don’t rejoice in deaths. Not even monsters. It’s a task bestowed on me upon the annihilation of my family. But this is my territory, and I’ll be damned if someone is going to drive me out. “I’m fine. Why are you here? This section has been in my family for generations. It belongs to me.”
“I got word that there was a surge in activity here. Vampire and lycan alike.”
“So, you are a lycan hunter?”
He nods.
Sirens blare, and I shake my head. I can question him later. “We need to go.”
“I have to get back to work. It’ll look suspicious if I’m not back after my break.” He flips his blade and hands it to me, hilt first. “I’ll be back for that, Rainey Astor.”
I stiffen when he mentions my name but take the blade anyway, and Jake heads for the back entrance of the club. Music pours into the alley as he opens the door, disappearing inside.
Tucking his blade carefully beneath my jacket, I head for the nearest fire escape—the same one the last remaining vamp climbed to escape. I’m honestly hoping the asshole stuck around so I can end him too.
2
Rainey
My phone rings just as I’m walking into my single-bedroom apartment. The shrill tone is meant to wake me from even the deadest of sleeps, especially since, after a hunt like tonight, I’ll need it. My body goes into a near-comatose state to heal itself though it’s not entirely necessary. Even now, I can feel the throbbing ache of the bones in my wrist knitting back together.
I’m pretty damn sure it’s merely self-preservation. A way to save my mind from the horrendous pain endured during the healing process for more severe injuries.
When I first realized what I was, the pain of healing was indescribable. My mother was a doctor—a surgeon—and kept our first-aid kit fairly well stocked with pain meds. So after breaking my arm falling out of a tree back at my grandmother’s house in Salem, Massachusetts, she dosed me up and talked me through the process.
Until then, I had no idea who—or more accurately what—I was. Then, two months later, they were killed, and my world shifted yet again.
And unfortunately, it’s been in a constant state of change ever since.
At least, I’m used to it now. The pain of healing is no longer overwhelming. Now, it’s nothing but an afterthought. Not that it’s not there—no, if I focus on it, the shit still hurts—but I’m able to block it out of my mind, shoving it aside and focusing instead on the events of tonight. I toss Jack’s blade on my counter, and it clatters against the laminate surface.
Another hunter in Billings. What the hell are the odds? My sister and I were the only ones before. At least, that’s what she always believed. Honestly, until she died, I wanted nothing to do with this dark side of the world. There are enough monsters amongst the humans.
The ringing stops, and I walk into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of ibuprofen. After setting it on the counter, I grab my Jameson from the cabinet and pour a small glass to wash the pills down. The tone goes off again. “Dammit.”
With my good arm, I pull out my phone, completely unsurprised to see my partner’s name flashing across the screen. I can even guess what he’s calling for since they would have found the bodies by now and that damned club is in my jurisdiction. “Hey, Ramirez, what’s up?”
“You sleeping?”
“Was. What’s going on?” Ramirez has been my partner since I got promoted to Detective. He’s nearing retirement but sharp as a tack, which makes hiding things from him a bit more difficult than I’d care for.
“Got a nasty one. Four vics. One female, three male. I’ll text you the address.”
“Sounds good. I’ll throw on some clothes and head that way.” Ending the call, I set my phone down onto the counter and toss back the rest of my whiskey. Tonight is going to be miserable.
Fucking vampires. If it had just been the one, I could have gotten rid of her blood-sucking ass, and then I wouldn’t be forced out of my home and back into another awkward investigation where I know exactly who did it, but I’m not able to say a damned thing.
Groaning, I set my glass in the sink and walk into the bathroom to start transforming from blonde hunter to brunette Homicide Detective. A painstaking process that takes over an hour to apply, and thankfully quite a bit less time to remove. I toss the wig to the floor—since it’s now stained with whatever shit was in the alleyway, it’s no longe
r useful to me. Kneeling down, I grab my adhesive remover from beneath the counter and straighten to stare at myself in the mirror.
My sister never had to use any type of disguise, and neither do most hunters. But since I walk a line between the supernatural and human world, it’s necessary. So, no matter how much I hate the process of it, I do it every single night. After dipping the edge of a Q-tip in the adhesive remover, I start prying at the edges of my prosthetic nose.
It takes quite a few minutes to get it up, but finally, it comes off, so I set it beside the sink and turn on the shower. I undress, tossing my clothes into the hamper before stepping beneath the hot spray. Taking great care to not get my still pinned-up hair wet, I wash the blood, dirt, and makeup off before climbing out and drying quickly.
The entire night turned into a fucking mess. Five vampires. That club is known for being frequented by the Gale clan, a relatively new group of vampires who gained notoriety in the supernatural world for taking out half a dozen humans a night.
Still, five vamps there at the same time? I hadn’t considered that, and it’s a mistake I won’t be repeating. Ever. After quickly tossing on some clothes, I shrug into my shoulder holster, sticking my service weapon into its spot tucked away beneath my arm, then slip my badge around my neck.
My black leather jacket is hanging by the door, so I grab it on my way out and head down to the garage to jump on my bike. The fire-engine red custom Harley that Delaney gave me as a gift for making Detective gleams beneath the lights of the parking garage. I don’t bother with a helmet since dying by motorcycle is not on the hunter list of ways to go out.
We’re tough as shit. And if by some miracle it did kill me—well—we’ve already covered that I don’t fear the Reaper.
Blood Hunt Page 2
