Hunter II

by Heath Stallcup

  I shook my head and backed away slowly. “I’m no paper pusher.”

  Brock nearly choked on whatever he was drinking. He cleared his throat and approached me slowly. “Not as a supervisor.”

  I raised a brow at him. “As what then?”

  “Think of yourself as the whip that keeps them all in line. If they don’t perform as expected, you would be the one called in to ensure the job was done. Properly.”

  “Which job would I properly conclude? The one they couldn’t do…or the hunter who failed?”

  Brock raised a brow in return. “Either. Both, perhaps; it depends on the circumstances of the failure.” He turned slowly and nodded to the other two.

  “You would be compensated handsomely.” The taller of the two vampires said. “Quite handsomely.”

  I blew my breath out hard. This wasn’t what I expected. “I did return here to discuss possibly returning to work.”

  The third vampire nearly clapped. “Excellent. We can have you set up in–"

  I held a hand up to stop him. “But it was because I didn’t like the idea of killing other hunters. The men you sent–"

  “A mistake. I assure you.” Brock stepped closer, the snifter cradled in his cold hands. “One that won’t happen again.”

  I snorted and leaned against the column decorating the study. “Your ‘mistakes’ tend to have far reaching consequences, Brock. And we both know that if somebody doesn’t please the council, that’s their first course of action.”

  Brock nodded. “Perhaps. But who could we possibly send after you? You’re obviously the best at what you do.”

  The taller vampire nodded. “We sent our three best hunters; you easily slipped their knife.”

  “We’d rather have the best of the best working for us, keeping the others in line.” The third vampire added, suddenly solemn. “Who better than Sven Ericson to keep our field priorities straight?” The smile that crossed his face didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, it was more than just a bit creepy.

  “Regional manager?” I pushed off the column and took Brock’s wingback chair. “What does the job entail?”

  I watched as he circled the back of the chair and took a seat on the leather couch. “Just as you’ve heard here; what you already assumed it would.” He crossed his legs and eyed me wearily. “You would be the one to ensure our interests are managed out there–where we can’t be. You will, occasionally finish a job a ‘regular’ hunter can’t handle. Your reputation will send a message to the hunters in the field that they need to tighten up; you may need to…reiterate that message every so often.”

  I crossed my arms. “Death? Or beatings?” I was a fan of neither but kept that to myself.

  The taller vampire sat down gently, his eyes on me like a hawk. “That would be up to you. You would be the boss. If we notify you that there was a problem…say in the Northwest, you would review the case; check the file on the target and then the hunter who was lacking. You would then render a decision and a course of action that you deemed proper.”

  “And if I decide that the hunter in question simply needed training?”

  “Train him. Or her.” Brock sipped his drink, his gaze askew, toward the shadows.

  “And if I decide that the hunter wasn’t at fault? That the target was too difficult for them?”

  He shrugged. “Then that is your decision. You complete the removal, notify us that the problem is dealt with to your satisfaction, and we carry on.”

  I knew from experience that the council these suits represented was heavier handed than that. But if they truly left it to me to judge, perhaps I could do some good after all. At least it would give me something to do besides continually whacking rogue nightstalkers. And I needed a challenge that would keep me preoccupied and my mind off other things.

  I stood and nodded. “I accept.”

  “Excellent!” The third vampire was on his feet and approaching me. “We can have you set up in your choice of cities, but may I recommend something a bit more central? Perhaps Dallas?”

  I wanted to laugh. Traveling was not an issue for me. I even started to say so but decided to keep my mouth shut. They didn’t need to know the extent of what I could and couldn’t do. If they discovered my powers and how I got them, they’d find ways to coax more feathered assholes here just to snare one for lunch. That wouldn’t be good.

  The relief in that room was palpable. They really wanted me happy and out of there. “That will be fine.” I didn’t particularly want to move, but my house was still a wreck, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I could fit everything I cared about in the back seat of my truck.

  He handed me a manila envelope. I could feel the lump of a set of keys inside. “Everything is in here. Feel free to contact us if you need anything.”

  “The files on the other hunters?”

  Brock stepped forward, his hand extended. “They’ll be on the computer in the house. I think you’ll like the office there.” I took his hand and shook it out of habit. “We look forward to hearing from you.” His smile was phony but I returned it. I still didn’t trust him; I didn’t trust anyone.

  I turned to walk out and as the study door closed I heard him tell the others, “His hand was warm.”

  Chapter 15

  AS SOON AS I walked through the door, I gathered all of my weaponry. I shoved it into large canvas duffle bags and placed them in the back seat of my truck. I gathered the few files I had, the loose papers scattered around the computer area, shoved them all into folders, and packed them in a box.

  I walked through the house scooping up the clothes I owned and shoved them into a sea bag. It was almost sad, the lack of possessions. There was nothing tying me to anything or anybody. The few people I had cared about died before photographs were even invented.

  I tossed the bag into the back of the truck and opened the envelope. I focused on the house. The address. I could see it in my mind. I closed my eyes for a moment and I felt the breeze on my face. When I opened my eyes, I stood in the circle driveway of a modern brick and stone house. It was huge and well lit. I could see the wrought iron fence that surrounded it and quickly realized that there were no neighbors.

  I took a step toward the house and had an “oh shit” moment. I had transported there, but my truck was still in Boston.

  I bit back a curse and poofed back to the truck. I walked around it, studying it. Was it even possible to transport something this size with me? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I opened the door of the truck and gripped the top and bottom of the cab. I concentrated on the new house and closed my eyes.

  When I opened them, I was back in the new driveway, the truck still tightly caught in my grip. I grinned to myself and grabbed my sea bag. The weapons could wait until I checked out the house.

  I hate to admit it, but I was impressed. Tall ceilings, ornate woodwork. It was obviously a newer home, but it had the craftsman touches that only very old homes and very expensive homes provided.

  I checked out the six bedrooms. The master suite bordered on ostentatious, but in a good way. I liked how you had to walk through the closet to get to the bathroom. A safe was built into the closet. I was pleased that they thought to leave the door open with the combination inside. Otherwise, well, you know, useless.

  Downstairs I checked out the common areas and the office. The office was grand; Brock hadn’t exaggerated. Mahogany paneling, another safe, a centuries old ebony desk with an oiled leather armchair positioned behind it. Next to shelves of important looking books there was a set of glass paned French doors that led out to a large stone patio. Off the steps was an outdoor kitchen; in case I wanted to eat a local prostitute al fresco. Nice touch.

  I walked the grounds and noted all of the security cameras. I wasn’t sure why at the time, but I had an uneasy feeling that the council was probably going to be monitoring those more than I would. I’d have to be careful in my comings and goings. On second thought, maybe I’d just break a few. />
  Would they even bother to check on me during daylight hours? I shook the idea from my head. “I’ll worry about that shit later.”

  I went back inside and opened the sub-zero fridge. Bags of fresh O-positive hung with care. The idea of sucking down one made my stomach turn slightly. I actually remembered when it was my favorite; must have been in my file.

  The office was where I knew I’d spend most of my time. I checked the safe and actually smiled that it shared the same combination as the one in the bedroom. It occurred to me that one of them must have set the code; I would have to change it. But I hoped I wouldn’t need to do that immediately; surely they would give me a week to settle in before…well, before.

  I retrieved the weapons and stored most of them in the office safe. I dumped the files on the desk then took the rest of the weapons upstairs. I tucked the pistols and rifles into the safe, keeping one of the knives back for bedside storage. I hung up the clothes I had.

  Unpacking had taken all of ten minutes. I stood back and shook my head. It looked more like somebody had left a few unwanted items when they moved out instead of somebody moving in to a new place. Oh well. It is what it is. Traveling light has always worked fine for me.

  I laid down on the bed and was actually sad that I wouldn’t be able to sleep on it. It was so comfortable. I felt like I’d melted into the top layers then was just suspended on a cloud. I rolled off of it and marched back downstairs.

  I pulled the truck into the clean, three-car garage and even it looked lonely with all the empty space around it. I stood and stared at it for far too long.

  “What the hell am I doing here?”

  I STOOD AT the full length mirror and stared at the man in front of me. Yes, I am from Viking stock, but hell, even they took better care of themselves. My beard was unruly to the point of wild. My hair a long and tangled mess; gods know what must be living in there. I must have smelled pretty bad.

  I pulled open drawers. There were things in there that I recognized but had never used. Exactly what is the purpose of a cotton swab?

  I dug around until I found some scissors and, thoughtfully, there was a set of electric trimmers. I glanced at my image again and smiled. “You’re going to earn your keep.”

  I have no idea how long I spent, but I cut off the grand majority of my beard; there were curly blonde hairs all over the floor. I left the whiskers around my mouth and chin. I nearly burned out the trimmers clear cutting the long tangled mess from my head. I almost wished I had kept it braided, like when I was young.

  I found the shaving cup and the straight razor. It didn’t take long; my face and head were shaved. I stood back and stared at the image in the mirror again. For a fleeting moment, I saw my father. He had kept his head shaven for as long as I could remember.

  I showered. It felt so good that I laughed. The water ran both black and red, depending on where I scrubbed at the moment. The soap smelled funny but it worked.

  I stepped out of the shower and began rubbing the towel over me when a woman screamed.

  I turned to the doorway. A young, dark haired woman stood in the room, her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide. I suppose it’s not every day you walk in and find a bald, naked Northman in the bathroom.

  She stared for a little too long then quickly spun around, her face turning to the floor. “I’m sorry. They said you’d be here in a few days.”

  I wasn’t sure who she was or why she was there, but she held no weapons and seemed more embarrassed than hostile.

  “I came early.” I dropped the towel and walked toward her. “And you are?”

  She turned back around and extended her hand. “I’m Laura–" I suppose she thought I had magically dressed or at least hadn’t heard the towel drop because her eyes went wide again and she spun back around, her eyes dropping to the floor.

  I walked beside her and leaned close to her ear. “Hello Laura. I’m Sven.” She nodded quickly and I stepped past her. What few clothes I had were in the closet and she was between me and them.

  I stood and dressed. I even caught her sneaking peeks from time to time. “You are here, why, Laura?”

  She kept her head down, but her eyes still wandered.

  “I’m here to…well…to clean. And to keep your house. Assist you in anything you may need.”

  I nodded as I pulled a shirt over my head. “Anything?”

  She nodded rapidly. “I can run errands during the day for you. I can help with paperwork. I can–"

  “I won’t be needing your help.”

  Her head popped up and I wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed that I was dressed. “But…that’s my job. That’s why I’m here.”

  I shook my head, forgetting for the moment that I had shaved it. It felt strange without the heavy mane tugging. “I won’t need your assistance.”

  “But…I’m trustworthy, Mr. Ericson. I know what you are. I won’t tell a soul.”

  I was a bit surprised that she knew my name but I tried not to react. “I’m not even sure what I am…perhaps you can tell me.”

  She cocked her head to the side, her face puzzled. “Sir? Aren’t you a vampire, like…like the others?”

  I raised a brow at her. She did a half step backward and shook her head. “It’s okay. I promise. They told you I was a vampire?” I stepped toward her and she took another step back.

  “Y-yes. But it’s fine. Really.” She swallowed hard. “You see, technically, I’m a–"

  “A familiar?” I took another step forward and she took another step back. A few more like this and we’d be foxtrotting.

  “No. Not a familiar.” She gave me a weak smile. She looked kind of cute when she smiled. She had dimples. “No, sir. I’m a Were.”

  I paused and stared at her. “A wolf? Working for vampires?” I scratched at the shortened whiskers on my chin. “That’s different.”

  “Well, technically, I’m not a wolf. I’m just a shifter.” She almost appeared sheepish as she spoke.

  I did a double take. “Excuse me?”

  She finally took a step toward me and her eyes appeared so innocent. “I’m a Were. I mean, yes, I shift. But not by the moon’s cycles and not always into a wolf.”

  That was a new one on me. Don’t misunderstand, it’s not like I hang out with a lot of were-anythings. Maybe they have their own bars or something, but I’d never heard of someone who could shift into anything other than a wolf. I stepped closer and looked down at her. She barely reached my chest; my arm was thicker than her waist.

  For the briefest of moments I wondered if Orel would think that she smelled evil, just because she could shift.

  My hand reached out and lifted her chin. I didn’t mean for it to do that, but I wanted to look into her eyes again. “Like what?”

  She swallowed hard, her eyes wide. “Huh?”

  “What can you shift into?” I pulled my hand away and was actually grateful that she maintained eye contact.

  She shrugged and shook her head slightly. “Just about anything. As long as the mass is similar.”

  My brows wrinkled. “Meaning?”

  She smiled and it reached her eyes. It was a beautiful sight to behold. “Meaning, if I shift into an elephant, I’ll be a short, skinny one; if I turn into a mouse, well, let’s just say the cats will run screaming. I can’t add or drop much of my natural mass.”

  I nodded, almost understanding. “What do you usually shift to?”

  Her smiled deepened and she closed her eyes. I could imagine that in her mind, she was in that form. “A cat. I often shift to a cougar and just run through the hills. It’s so exhilarating.” Her eyes popped open and she gripped my arms in enthusiasm. “They’re so agile. So graceful.”

  I couldn’t help but return her smile. “That sounds like fun.”

  “Oh, it’s unbelievable. Jumping from trees or from rock outcrop to outcrop. Chasing small animals just to catch and release.”

  “Release?”

  She gave me an energetic
nod. “I don’t hunt in animal form.”

  I don’t know why that surprised me, but it did.

  “Sometimes I’ll shift to a panther. Or a jaguar. They’re really all about the same when I’m in that form.”

  “Tiger?”

  She shook her head and laughed. “They’re much too large.”

  “You don’t like wolves?” I’m not going to say I’m a dog person, but I was curious.

  “Oh, I like them just fine, despite the fact they don’t climb well. Sometimes when I’m traveling, if I hear one, I’ll shift and try to sniff out the pack.”

  “They don’t get pissy when a lone wolf shows up?”

  She shook her head again. “I don’t get that close; I try to stay downwind of them and I’ll just watch. They’re very territorial.”

  “Yeah. I’ve gathered.” I didn’t dare tell her about the wolf hunt with Orel. Somehow, I didn’t think she’d approve and I was enjoying the conversation.

  “Anyway.” She turned toward the bathroom. “I wasn’t expecting you for a few more days, but I’ll go ahead and clean this up for you.”

  I opened my mouth to object, but something made me close it. She pulled the whisk broom and pan from a cabinet and begin sweeping the mess. I watched her for just a moment, wondering.

  There was something about her. Yes, she was charming in a way. And yes, her face was pleasing. Yes, she definitely was attractive. I caught myself staring as she bent and swept the hair from the floor and made myself busy with a shirt button.

  “Maybe tomorrow I can run out and get you some new clothes.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at what hung in the closet. It looked like a thrift store had thrown up on the hangers. “I, uh…”

  “No worries, sir. The council gives me an allowance just for such things.” She continued to clean and I found myself turning from the closet to her and back again.

  “I…uh, look, Laura, I have my own tastes.”

  “That’s fine sir. There are plenty of stores still open after dark.”