The Hunted

by C.J. Hart

  “No humans for Sebby.”

  I tense at the name. Why? An image of Ash floats into my mind. But she probably remembers Kat calling me that at the café. I relax.

  “Anyway, you were sitting on a log in the middle of the forest, staring at nothing, a book in your lap.” I grin. “And I remember wanting to know exactly what you were thinking.” I chuckle. “Then the deer scattered and you spun around so fast, I barely had enough time to hide.” I cough again, a result of laughing too much in my state. “’Course, you didn’t smell the same back then. I didn’t recognize you straight away.”

  “What do I smell like?”

  “Coffee and roses.”

  Her smile widens. “An interesting combo.”

  “What about me?”

  She leans close, sniffing at my neck, and I resist the urge to kiss her. But she’s so close.

  She sits back and laughs. “Spearmint like your eyes and um—sage? Earthy and sweet.”

  I catch her arm. “You really shouldn’t be alone in the forest. It’s a place for monsters like me.”

  “Monster?” She shakes her head. “I don’t believe for a second that you’re a bad guy.”

  If only she knew. I lift a hand to tousle her blonde waves.

  “Hungry?” she says.

  My hand slides to her cheek and she cradles it in hers. Her Snow White skin is smooth. She is so trusting.

  What if I am a bad guy, swaddled in this mortal skin? “Got any ice cream?”

  She thinks for a beat. “Choc chip.” Her lips jerk into a smile. “Will that do?”

  I nod, and she leaves the room.

  I release the breath I’d been holding. It’s been years since I’ve struggled to be around a human. What is it that makes Cassie so special, so tempting, and so delicious? I’ll have to hunt before I see her again.

  Cassie

  Seb should really stay the night, I think as I scoop ice cream into two bowls. Because I figure, though he hasn’t told me who, someone is out there with his blood on their hands. And they will probably return once they realize he’s alive. I’ll ask Dad when he gets home.

  I halt, scoop halfway to the bowl, something gnawing at the back of my mind. Dad knows what Seb is. He’ll never let him stay over. Operation Keep-Seb-Alive-and-Hidden it is.

  When I return, he’s sitting up and clutching his side.

  “Oh no,” I say. “Lay down, please. I think you might have a fractured rib. And a concussion.”

  He does as he’s told, smirking. “Watch a lot of ER reruns?”

  “You live with a doctor for seventeen years—you pick up a few things.” What if Seb needs a real doctor?

  “Hey.” He touches the tip of his index finger to my nose quickly. “Don’t you worry about me. Fast healer, remember?”

  Dad’s voice floats down the hall, “Cass, you home?”

  I feel my eyes widen. “Wait here,” I whisper.

  “No place I’d rather stay, honeybee.”

  I return his grin and rise to find Dad.

  He’s in the kitchen, heating up a plate of leftovers. “How was your day?”

  “Fine,” I say, and then quickly add, “You?”

  “Busy.”

  Never a dull day as a doctor.

  He eyes me, suspicious. I worry he knows. But if he does, it goes unsaid.

  “I better get back to my homework,” I say. “I got a ton to do.” I retreat to my bedroom and wish, for the first time, my door had a better lock. I don’t want to let Seb out of my sight. But I’ll have to—school tomorrow.

  I hear Seb approach.

  “Something up?” His hand rests on my shoulder, a comfort I sorely miss.

  Maybe Eve’s right. I need a boyfriend. “No.”

  He spins me around. “You’re a terrible liar.”

  “I know.”

  His fingers cup my chin and lift it. “You can confess all your secrets to me, you know? I won’t tell another being.”

  I nod. Not an inch of me distrusts him. “I know.”

  “I’d better go. Don’t wanna get you into trouble.”

  “I can’t let you leave.” I move to the window frame as he does, pressing myself up against it.

  A sly smile curls his lips. “You don’t scare me, honeybee.”

  I arch an eyebrow. “No?”

  “No.” He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder.

  I stifle a squeal. The last thing we need is for Dad—The Incredible Hulk—to come busting in.

  My eyes meet with the top of the towel. What if it were to just, you know, slip off while I’m upside down? A cheeky grin blooms on my features.

  “See?” He tosses me onto the bed, and then swivels to thrust open the window.

  What can I say or do to make him stay? I take a stab at something I only hope is a lie. “There are too many people after you.” I can see the instant it hits him, the truth behind it.

  He shudders before turning to me. “All right. What do you suggest then?”

  I grab my semi-melted bowl of ice cream and spoon some into my mouth. “Watch TV?”

  He snorts, perching on the edge of the mattress. “Okay.”

  “Maybe I should get you some clothes.” I doubt anything from the ex-boyfriend pile will fit him. But I should at least be able to find him some pants.

  I locate a pair of gray sweatpants, and he slips them on underneath the towel. On him, they cut off mid-calf.

  “What shows do you like?”

  He answers automatically, “Lame cop shows.”

  “Lame?” I scoff and roll my eyes.

  “Yeah. The lamer, the better.”

  So we spend all night, and part of the morning, munching on junk food, bonding, and watching TV. I drift off in his arms, somewhere after three am. Then wake with a start, my alarm clock chirping. Time for school.

  I disentangle myself from Seb’s arms. He rolls over a little too far, crashing to the floor with a thud.

  A beat later, his head snaps up. “I’m okay!”

  I guffaw. He flings himself back onto the mattress.

  “What’re you gonna do while I’m at school?” I shovel empty wrappers off my quilt and into the trash basket.

  “I do have a life. I’ll be at work.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  His lips twitch into a smile. “Tryin’ to keep tabs on me, sweetheart?”

  My hands fly to my hips, a movement I immediately recognize as Sheriff Scott. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  “Okay. I’ll drop by after school and you can wrap me in cotton wool.”

  I shove him. “You’re an ass sometimes, you know?”

  His grin widens. “I do.”

  Grunting, I march over to my closet. Infuriating. I tug out a pair of black jeans and a band T-shirt.

  “I won’t look,” he says and buries his face into my pillow.

  “You’d better not,” I grumble, yanking the curtains shut.

  “A little touchy this morning, are we?”

  “I haven’t had my coffee.”

  “Oh, you’re one of those types,” he jests.

  “Feeling better, I see?” I button the top clasp of my jeans.

  “Much. Thank you.”

  I tug the shirt over my head. “You are very welcome.” I tap him on his shoulder.

  His head swivels towards me. “Cute.”

  We still as Dad’s bedroom door opens. He clunks down the hall, and then the stairs. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Seb stands. “I’d better get going.”

  I let him pull me into a tight hug, feeling myself melting in his embrace.

  His lips press to my cheek. “I owe you one.”

  “I’ll collect.”

  His arms tighten with bone-crushing strength.

  I wheeze, unable to catch a breath. “Seb,” I manage.

  “Oh.” He releases me. “Catch you later, honeybee.” He opens the window and climbs out onto my tiny balcony, onto the railing.

 
“Wait!” I scramble forwards. “You’re just gonna jump off the second-story balcony?”

  He smirks. “Watch.” Seb hoists himself over the railing. For a second, he’s falling, falling. Then he lands lightly on his feet.

  I lean over the rail, surprised. He blows me a kiss. I pretend to catch it. Then he’s melding into the forest.


  This afternoon, I arrive home to Seb stretched across my bed. He analyzes a sandwich before taking a bite.

  “Any trouble?” I say.

  “Your cat tried to kill me.”

  I dump my bag near my glass desk. “She can be such a sour puss sometimes,” I say as I crawl next to him.

  “How was your day?”

  “About as uninteresting as a bald eagle. You?”

  “Eh.” He shrugs. “Better now.” He smiles at me.

  “Is that so?” I trail a finger over the silvery scar on his wrist. “You really do heal fast.” Yesterday, it was a bloody, jagged mess of skin. My gaze drifts over his impressive biceps, laden with ropes of muscle, to the wolf totem around his neck. “What is that?” Curiosity wins again.

  His thumb traces the design absently. “We’re each given one after we choose an animal to shift into. After the ceremony.” He lowers his eyes to me. “Witchcraft…”

  “Witchcraft?” I expect to hear an explanation, and he doesn’t disappoint me.

  “Centuries ago, the very first Yee Naaldlooshii pack was created. Born from magic, shaped by witches. There were five of them, and each witch transformed themselves into a different beast—bear, puma, eagle, raven, and wolf.” His fingers knot in mine. “After the selfish act—of them disregarding future generation’s freedom to make their own choices—the repercussions came. They found they could only satiate their hunger with the blood and flesh of humans.

  “Thus, the elders were formed, to keep order. There’s a set of them allocated to each pack, and each generation is doomed to adhere to the rules set by them, to carry out the long-outdated traditions.” His mouth jerks into a half smile. “And now, here we are, hiding from them all.”

  Who knew such magic existed?

  “Unfortunately, it’s carved from a real wolf bone.” He shudders. “Supposed to represent the ties between the animal and the practitioner.”

  “That’s creepy.”

  “Yeah.”

  A tap on the front door.

  I jump up. “I’ll be back.” Jogging to the door, I throw it open.

  The flame-haired boy from the café grins at me.

  Rage surges, pumping through my blood, curling my fists. He’s one of them—he hurt Seb. “What the hell do you want?”

  He rocks back on his heels, surprised. “A little birdy told me I’d find Seb here. So, is he?”

  I feel my face twist with fury. “You think I’m just gonna let one of the freaks that hurt him into my house?” My fingers coil around the baseball bat by the door. “You did this to him.”

  “Whoa, easy!” He stumbles back a step. “I had no part in that.”

  “Yeah, right,” I spit. Then I feel Seb’s approach.

  “It’s okay, Cass.” His hand rests on my shoulder. “He’s a friend.”

  I stare at him for another beat before turning away.

  “Man, she’s a feisty one,” I hear him say.

  Seb chuckles once. “How’s things?”

  “Not good. Ash has taken over as alpha.” He shakes his head. “Talk about a tyrant!”

  Seb sinks into the couch. The other follows. I clear my throat, and Seb quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “Introductions?” I say.

  “Oh.”

  “Manners, Sebby! I’m Kat.” He holds out his fist. “K-a-t.”

  I trust Seb, so by extension, I can trust Kat, right? “Cassie.” I bump my fist against his. “And here I’ve been thinking Seb’s worried about a c-a-t.”

  Kat guffaws, punching Seb’s shoulder. “You were worried about me?” He smirks. “Technically, I am a cat. That’s how I got my name.”

  A memory of Wolf-Seb and a puma flares to life behind my eyes. “A very big cat.” I drop into an armchair.

  Lizzy leaps onto the couch, tail bristling, ears flattening, and hisses at both of them.

  “Hush, you,” I say to her.

  Her tail flicks and she settles in the gap between them, keeping watch.

  Kat turns back to Seb. “Your mom’s been pretty noisy about this whole situation. The elders are getting restless.”

  “Ash has been vying for the top spot since I’ve known him.”

  “And it’s only a matter of time before he decides to return for you—both of you.”

  Seb’s eyes dart to mine. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this, Cass.”

  I shrug a shoulder, aiming for nonchalant. “If you’re goin’ down, I am too.”

  He shakes his head. “No, Cass. He’s starting a war, one I don’t know if we can win.”

  “They’ve added two pack members,” Kat says, eyes on his shoes.

  “That means we’re outnumbered two to six.”

  Kat rises. “Not good odds.”

  “And they still include you in everything?”

  “I wouldn’t say everything. Who knows what goes on outside of their little meetings?”

  “You think you can stay there a while longer, catch more whispers of their plans?”

  He salutes me, and then begins to pace the length of the room. “Can do, Alpha Seb.”

  “I’m not a leader anymore.”

  As they bicker about Seb’s Alpha status, his words are replaying in my mind. He’s starting a war, one I don’t know if we can win. “Can we add members? From other packs?”

  The boys exchange a look.

  “Good idea in theory, but—”

  Kat stops. “Who can we trust?”

  He watches me as I deliver milkshakes and burgers to the teens by the window. It should creep me out. But it doesn’t. And I can’t help sneaking a peek at him every few moments. Seb smiles and winks at me. Losing my train of thought, my boot skids on an unseen bottle cap. I slide across the linoleum, the tray in my grasp teetering precariously off balance. There is nowhere to go but down.

  Plates and glasses shatter. Cutlery rains around me. I land hard on my ass. “Crap,” I say under my breath.

  Two sets of arms grab me and haul me up.

  “Cass, y’okay?”

  Staring up at Marcus, I nod. I hear Seb growl, his fingers a condensing tourniquet on my upper arm. Marcus’s eyes dart to Seb, and then to his hand on my arm.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Guess I won’t make waitress of the month.” I shrug out of their tense grasps.

  “Let me help you.” Marcus crouches, retrieves the tray, and begins stacking chipped plates and shards of glass.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” I say.

  But he doesn’t stop.

  I feel Seb’s seething presence surge, and I turn. “What?”

  “He’s in love with you,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “So, you must automatically hate him?” I fold my arms across my chest.

  “Pretty much.” He slings an arm over my shoulders.

  I shove him away. “Boss frowns against PDAs.”

  “Sure, sure.” Seb smirks.

  For some unknown reason, I don’t want to hurt Marcus’s feelings. I squat to help him. A shard of glass catches my thumb. I jerk my hand away, and blood trickles down my palm.

  “Let me see.” Marcus catches my hand. “It’s deep; you may need stitches.”

  I rip it free. I’m not a little girl that needs to be taken care of. “I know what to do, thank you!”

  His mouth curls downwards. “Just trying to help.”

  I can sense Seb’s smirk and unfurling joy before I see it. So much for not hurting Marcus. “Sorry,” I mumble as he rejoins his friends. But was I? He’s had a crush on me since second grade, and I have never felt remotely interested in him.

  Seb crouches to help, pressing a wad of na
pkins to my thumb.

  Frustrated with myself, I snap, “Don’t.”

  He quirks an eyebrow upwards, spins, and then returns to his table. I blow a sigh. At least he’s good at hiding any hurt from me. But I still feel horrible by the time I’ve cleaned my mess up, so I place a cupcake in front of him.

  “On me, the irritated waitress who is very sorry.” And this time, I mean it.

  He smiles, eyes glittering in the afternoon sun. “Thanks.”

  “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

  Eloise’s voice rises over the hubbub. “Cass?”

  “I’ll be back,” I say to him, and then weave through tables and customers. “Yep?”

  “There’s a phone call for you.” She hands me the landline.

  “From who?”

  “Didn’t say.” She turns to takes someone’s order.

  I press the receiver to my ear. “Hello?”

  There’s a rustling tailed by a maniacal laugh.

  It tingles my spine and coils barbed wire around my stomach. I duck into the supply room. “Who is this?”

  The laugh cuts off. “Your nightmares come true.” The line goes dead.

  It takes me a moment to realize my hands are trembling, as my brain fails to comprehend what’d just happened. But I already know it’s one of four people—one of the pack members. I don’t count the newbies; they wouldn’t know anything about this war. Hanging up the phone, I try to regain my composure. I know the second Seb sees me, he’ll be able to tell something’s up. Plastering a smile on my lips, I nudge open the door.

  Eloise glances at me, curious. “Who was it? A boy?” She grins, hopeful.

  “Prank call,” I say, looking for something to do to keep my hands busy.

  “Oh.” Her gaze drifts towards Seb’s table. “So who’s the guy in the corner? He’s been checking you out all afternoon.”

  “That’s Seb.”

  “You two together? He seems pretty enamored.”

  “We’re just friends.”

  “Sure you are.” She winks.

  ***

  I saunter into the kitchen. Dad’s chopping veggies. Grabbing a cola from the fridge, I take a seat at the antiquated table.

  “Have a good shift?” He tosses a handful of carrots into a sizzling saucepan. His tone is light, but his back and neck are too stiff.

  I pop the tab and take a sip. “If you count dropping a tray and cutting my thumb on a glass ‘good’, then yeah.” Plus having an insane monster after me.

  “Did you check the wound for glass?”

  I roll my eyes and thrust out my thumb. “Take a look yourself, Doctor Spencer.”

  “No need for the attitude, Cass. I just care.” He abandons dinner and peels away the crimson-stained bandage.