He shook his head. “I’ve told you all that I know.”
“If this guy is leaving a trail of death behind Loki, how is there anybody left to spread rumors?”
He shrugged. “I only hear what I am told and I am told that there are rumors.”
I sighed and sat down on the couch. “If you hear anything about this guy getting close to Boston, send me a message immediately. I need to know if I have to watch my own back while I hunt Loki down.”
“Agreed.”
I glanced away for a moment then turned back to him, another question on the tip of my mind. Damned if he hadn’t evaporated again. I craned my neck to check the room but knew he was gone. Even his scent was already fading.
I stared up at the ceiling and fought the urge to yell. “It’s customary to use the door you feathered freak.”
Chapter 3
AS THE DAYS counted down, I made it a point to practice with Orel’s crossbow. The stock had looked so small in his hands; I had honestly forgotten just how large it truly was. Cocking the thing was no easy chore, even with my strength. Something tells me that the average human couldn’t do it on their best day.
I used the blunt bolts in the woods but had to switch to steel targets. The wooden silhouettes I used for practice kept splintering into pieces or getting large holes punched through them. The steel rang out like a heathen gong, but I made sure that I was deep enough in the trees that nobody would hear me.
I actually felt pretty confident with the weapon after just a short time. I still had no idea how Orel was so deadly accurate with it. It was almost as if he could control the bolts with his mind, making the projectiles accept minor corrections to their flight in midair. I doubted he had that ability, though I knew he could do more than he ever let on. Most likely he was just so adept with his weapon that it seemed like he could do miraculous things with it.
Right? He couldn’t really control the flight of his arrows…?
I wasn’t going to waste time dwelling on Orel’s heavenly talents. I had a god to kill.
I rummaged through the duffel and pulled the long sword. Somehow it appeared shorter out here in the woods without the walls of my modest home precluding a decent swing.
I gripped the blade tightly and swung it, feeling the sizzling tremor through the handle almost instantly. The harder I swung the more intense the vibration. I stood amongst the trees and stared at the gold and silver blade, reflecting the needles of sunlight that pierced the canopy of limbs above.
I stepped to the side and swung the sword in a hard backswing, expecting to hear the organic plunge of metal sinking into the tree trunk beside me. Instead, the tree cracked and began to teeter. I stepped to the side and watched as the forty foot pine tilted, caught the branches above it, then slowly broke through and fell to its final resting place between the trunks of its brethren. It happened; I heard it.
I stood in shocked silence and stared at the stump rising from the ground. The cut was straight, neat and not the least bit jagged. It was as though I had cut it with a laser.
I lifted the blade and it was just as fresh and sharp as when I’d first pulled it from the crate. The sunlight gleamed against the broad, smooth metal; there wasn’t even sap stuck to it. No tree blood. Interesting.
I went along the length of the tree and practiced my chopping motions, watching as the blade sliced through the thick trunk with ease. The tree had turned to warm butter; my blade simply slipped through to the ground below. Each cut was as smooth as a newborn’s butt.
I tried chopping slowly, and although the handle vibrated less intensely, the mere weight of the blade still pulled it through the wood. If I brought the blade down with speed and force, the handle vibrated more intensely and there was absolutely no resistance from the wood; the butter was more like milk; it felt as though I were slicing through air.
I stood back, the tree now a perfect pile of firewood, and studied this heavenly blade. I think I had a new favorite weapon. Grigori may have a fight on his hands when he tries to take this weapon from me.
I strapped the blade to my back and pulled the shorter golden blades from the duffel. In my oversized hands, they could easily be used as throwing knives. I chose another woodland victim. The knives were so perfectly balanced that hitting the target was not an issue. Pulling them out was. Each blade sliced deeply and continued to press until it buried itself to the hilt. Even with my enhanced strength, I struggled to remove them from the trees that were sacrificed to hone my abilities. Presumably the body of a minor god is not as dense as a maple or pine.
I gave my wrist a sharp twist and watched as the blue shield snapped to life. I ducked and covered, studying what areas were left vulnerable in each position. I practiced swinging the shield, using it as an offensive weapon in the rare circumstance that I might end up weaponless. The way the thing gripped my arm, I feared an enemy would have to tear the appendage from my body to remove the shield cuff.
With a proper spin, snapping my arm outright and at the correct angle, the shield would slice through a tree trunk, snapping and sizzling the entire way through. The smell of burnt pine rose in the air and a quick examination of the wound left behind verified that the flesh was burned as though struck by lightning.
The sun was beginning to dip lower on the horizon and I knew that my practice time was drawing to a close. I quickly gathered the weapons and marched out of the woods.
THE DRIVE INTO town wasn’t hurried. If what the angel said about Loki was true, he’d probably just be getting his “day” started. Partying all night takes its toll on most humans. I can only imagine how hard Loki was treating the body he had infected.
I circled the hotel twice, my eyes scanning the rooms he had reserved. When light appeared in the largest suite, I made my way inside. I had no idea if he would be alone or if I even cared. I only worried that if I had to fight my way past an armed security escort, he might find a way to give me the slip.
I glanced at the clock as I passed through the lobby. It was just past seven in the evening. People would be congesting the lobby and stairwells as they traveled to sup. I kept my face low and tried to blend in–as much as I could, anyway. When you’re as big as I am, you tend to stand out. The longer hair and heavy overcoat wasn’t exactly standard dinner attire in these more modern times. And although my leather safari hat was modern, it wasn’t something you normally saw in downtown Boston.
I realized as I slipped into the stairwell that I could have thought things through better, maybe stopped at the mall first. It had become painfully clear that because I was an accomplished hunter of my own kind, I had become negligent, softened to the ways of modern man.
I mean, think about it. Hunting a vampire means you generally stick to parts that are usually hidden from the mainstream human population…in the shadows, deep within abandoned buildings, out of the city in rural farm homes. Places where one could feel safe enough to murder, eat, and then sleep. You don’t do those things in places like this. Not if you are sane, and not in this hat.
And yet, here I was, full stalking mode, same clothing I always wear on a hunt, making my way up the stairwell of one of the nicer hotels in Boston. To kill a man…strike that, to assassinate a god. I shook my head at myself and wanted to curse my own stupidity when I saw the floor number I was on. It was go time.
I pulled the fire door open and stepped into the long hallway. Thankfully, it was clear. Nobody was lurking near Loki’s rooms looking intimidating. I hoped that was a sign that he didn’t have hired security inside, either.
I slipped as quietly as I could down the hallway and stood outside the door of his suite. I could hear movement inside. Laughter, giggling, glass tinkling, music…somebody was enjoying themselves inside.
I braced myself to kick the door open then glanced at the handle. I paused and slowly reached out, grasped it lightly, and tried it. It was locked. No shocker there. My hand slid across the smooth texture of the painted door and I could sense that it was a
thin, light wood, most likely hollow. Kicking it would probably have had me standing in the hallway entrance with a leg stuck through and a stupid look on my face.
I braced a shoulder near the handle side and threw my body into it. The door popped open with a crack and swung hard against the opposite wall. Splinters showered the floor from the door sill and a nude woman looked at me, shocked. She screamed like a horror film starlet. Her outburst was expected. Loki’s actions weren’t.
He turned quickly, noticed me, then grabbed the nude woman and roughly pushed her toward me. She crumpled to the hard, tile floor and I had to step high to cross her screaming form. Her arms tried hopelessly to cover her private bits but that was the least of my interests. I saw her only as a potential witness.
I stepped into the main room of the spacious suite. On the far side, Loki had slipped into the bedroom. I kicked the door open and was startled when the little man whose body he had taken over launched at me. Although small in stature, Loki’s presence must have added strength. He hit me with a force I didn’t expect and the two of us rolled back into the main room, the woman still screaming and lifting her feet high as though the floor was hot and covered in mice.
Loki launched himself up and onto my chest, his hands beating me soundly about the face and neck. He screamed at me but his words weren’t registering as I fought to block his blows.
“I’m not going back and you can’t make me!” I felt my cheek bone shatter as his right fist connected. The cartilage of my nose crunched as his left smashed into it.
Now, don’t misunderstand here. Yes, I knew I would heal. And I knew it would be quick. But damn it, it still hurt like a bitch. And to have this little piss ant of a man turn my face into mush was crushing to my self confidence. I didn’t care that he was a god. On a good night, he was no bigger than an erection. I was about to get mad.
I fought to grip his arms and slid my hands down until I had his wrists. I sat up and lifted him with me, my face dripping blood as I clenched my teeth.
I swung him hard and cracked the pillar that separated the two rooms. He barely flinched. “You tell my asshole father, I am NOT going back!”
He began to kick at me and with earnest. I felt the hard leather of his expensive shoes connect first with a kneecap and then with my groin. I grunted as my legs tried to wither beneath me but I maintained my grip on his hands.
I swung him overhead much like a lasso and snapped his body to the tile floor, trying hard to break him, or at least slow him down. He grunted and stared up at me with shock.
I pulled open my coat and withdrew the shorter dagger, preparing to carve his chest like a goose, when he suddenly rolled away and came to his feet. His face was twisted in anger and he glared at me.
“Who are you?” His voice deepened as he barked at me.
“A messenger.”
I launched myself at him but he moved far too quickly for any human. I cut exactly at his middle, but my blade sliced empty air. I saw him as only a blur. He crossed like a flashlight beam from one side of the room to the other and then he was gone. The only indication of his escape route was the open window.
I pulled the curtain back and stared down at the courtyard below. He was not to be seen. I glanced upward and wondered if it were even possible to reach the roof from the window.
I quickly crawled out onto the ledge and jumped for all I was worth. My fingers barely caught the edge and I dangled for just a moment until I could attain a stronger grip and pull myself up.
I walked the expanse of the roof, looking for any sign of the man. I came up empty.
I walked to the edge and squatted low, my eyes scanning the parking lot below. Nobody even closely resembling him could be seen. With a sigh of resignation I stepped off the roof and landed in the soft grass of the front courtyard. I ensured that all of my weapons were still with me, then quickly left the scene in my truck.
Blue and red flashing lights were speeding towards the hotel as I drove away. This did not go as I had hoped.
BACK AT HOME, I sucked down two units of blood while my face healed. The worst part was the itching inside my nose. With my large hands came large fingers and there was no way they could reach deep enough into my sinus cavity to scratch that itch. I sneezed. Blood clots speckled the countertop.
The whole thing made it personal. Now I actually wanted to kill Loki.
I tossed the empty bags into the trash and turned for the bathroom, intent on flushing the coagulating blood from my sinuses. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Grigori sitting behind the bar, his face stoic.
“Odin’s pigs! Can’t you use a door like normal people?” I growled as I glared at the angelic being.
“I am not ‘normal people.’” His deadpan voice grated against my nerves, already raw from my encounter with Loki.
“I’ve noticed.” I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms, waiting for him to state his business. When he didn’t, I urged him along. “Why are you here?”
“You failed to kill Loki.”
“No shit.” I pushed off the counter and jabbed a finger in his general direction. “You didn’t tell me that he could move quicker than a thought.”
“He is a god.”
Well, doesn’t that just explain every damned thing.
“Yeah. You hit that part in the highlights. You also said that he was wearing a human meat suit. That should have come with basic human limitations.”
Grigori snorted and shook his head. “You know nothing of gods, obviously.”
I gave him my best sardonic glare. The action was either missed entirely or deliberately ignored. I was beginning to think that emotions and sarcasm were completely wasted on angelic creatures.
“I doubted their very existence until you offered to pay me to off one.” I pulled open the fridge and withdrew another bag of blood. I can’t explain why. I wasn’t hungry and my healing was nearly complete. I just needed to do something to keep my hands occupied so I didn’t end up throttling this feathered nutjob. Okay…attempt to throttle, since we all know that he’d mop the floor with me.
I bit into the bag and sucked hard. After a big swallow I pulled the bag away and stared at the angel. “Why didn’t you tell me that he still had godlike powers?”
“I gave you heavenly weapons. Surely you must have reasoned that if you needed special weapons there would be a special opponent? Did you really expect to smash into a hotel room and kill a god in a single swipe?”
I had to count to ten in my mind. Grigori waited while I counted. I sucked down the rest of the blood and felt renewed strength coursing through my body. I dropped the bag into the trash with the other two and turned slowly to face him.
“Giving one special weapons isn’t quite the same as informing one that the subject being hunted can move faster than a fart in a whirlwind. Nor does it explain how he has the strength of ten men. Nor does it–"
“He is a god.” Grigori stood, his face still stoic. “That is all you should have needed to know.”
I think my mouth fell open because I distinctly remember having to shut it. Again.
“That makes a lot of assumptions on your part, don’t you think?” I crossed my arms again very forcefully but relaxed when I remembered that angels suck at reading body language.
He cocked his head to the side then shook it. “No assumptions. He is a god. A lesser god, of course, but still a god. By definition this makes him…gifted.”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. It still ached a bit.
“Maybe we should discuss his abilities in more detail so I might actually plan an attack. Considering he is my first encounter with a god of any type, it would be nice to know what to expect the next time I face him.”
Grigori raised a brow. “You think he will give you another chance to kill him?” He shook his head. “You have failed. There will not be another opportunity.”
“The hell you say.” I stepped closer, my fists clenched. “We have a contract.”
<
br /> “Which you failed to deliver on.” Grigori turned to retrieve the weapons. I crossed the short distance and stood between him and the crate.
“I don’t think so.” I placed a foot on the crate and held the lid shut. “This isn’t over until I have his head on a pike.”
Grigori cocked his head to the side again. It reminded me a lot of a dog I once knew. He’d do that very same thing when he didn’t understand my words or actions, or didn’t agree with them. He was a stupid dog, but he was usually right. Not that I would ever tell him that.
“As I said, you’ll not get another chance. He knows you now. He knows your purpose. He will be expecting you to come at him before you can get anywhere near him.”
I turned and gave him the biggest smile I could muster. “Then I’ll be sure and kill him from a distance.”
Grigori looked to the crate of weapons then nodded slowly. “The crossbow.”
“Maybe.” I crossed my arms again. “I have some other ideas, too.” The Nephilim came to mind. A golden bullet did the job with him. Perhaps if I could have one of the bolts or blades milled down to a bullet…I could shoot him before he ever realized I was near.
Grigori nodded slowly. “Very well, Hunter. You may have another chance.”
I lifted the lid of the crate and pulled out one of the blunt bolts. I turned to show Grigori, my intent was to ask if the weapon could be reworked into something a bit more…modern. Of course, he was gone. I turned a slow circle in my living room and fought back a curse.
“Normal people usually say goodbye before they leave.” I dropped the blunt on the coffee table and continued to stare toward the ceiling. “You feathered prick.”
Chapter 4
I STUDIED THE list of activities where Loki was expected to be. I don’t know where angels got their intelligence, but it was pretty inclusive; even meals were worked into the agenda. I knew that whatever venue I chose, I’d have to ensure that I could have a clean line of sight on him. I’d need enough room to get my shot in before he could disappear…literally.
Hunter II Page 3
