Taming the Hunter

by Michele Hauf

  Next to her, a large plastic fermentation tank stood, freshly cleaned and ready for the next batch of beer. The brewery didn’t have enough space on the main floor for all their equipment, thus the hole in the floor above, so that the beer Mireio brewed in the hot liquor tanks could be piped down to the fermenters. Kegs were stacked against the wall, and two walk-in freezers bookended the cozy basement room.

  On the far wall, a steel door with four padlocks led to what Eryss had been delighted to learn was a secret passageway that ran underground to the businesses across the street. Such passages ran everywhere beneath Anoka, connecting buildings, but most had been filled with cinder blocks and closed up. She and Mireio had explored the tunnel once, only to learn the door on the other end had also been blocked up. It was a bummer.

  Taking inventory of the T-shirts was necessary, and she’d let it go so long that Valor had let her know they had no size smalls in anything. So she ticked off another mark in the column for the pink T-shirts emblazoned with The Decadent Dames logo and set the stack aside. Before her loomed a six-foot-high shelf with shirts in pink, white, black and gray. The task would keep her mind off other things.

  Like Dane walking out of the antiques store without bothering to pop his head in to see if she was at work. Not that the man should. It had been early. The brewery didn’t open until midafternoon. But he was aware she went in to work before opening time. She sighed and pulled down the stack of medium gray shirts and began her tally. Time got away from her as she counted a few more stacks. When someone put his hands over her eyes from behind her, she touched the icy-cold fingers and smiled. “I didn’t hear you come down.”

  “I have stealth. Taking inventory?”

  “Yes, I let it slip for a few months and now customers are freaking because the pink shirts are out of stock.” She turned and sat against the wooden shelving, inviting him to join her on the floor.

  After taking a moment to inspect the altar, Dane sat by her side, stretching out his legs before him. How the man survived snowblowing in leather loafers was beyond her. He leaned in and kissed her. The fine stubble that had formed on his jaw and cheeks gently brushed her skin, and she smiled against his mouth. And as his lips quickly heated against hers, she tasted the coffee he must have just downed and inhaled his oceany, yet icy, man scent. A Viking from centuries past? She could imagine him as such.

  “Your nose is still cold,” she commented, giving it an Eskimo nuzzle with her own. “This weather does not agree with you.”

  “I disagree. I favor the snow. Though I extend an open invitation for you to come visit Santa Cruz and surf the sweet summer waves with me.”

  “Sounds like heaven. I’ve never surfed. I can swim, though.”

  “That’ll work. Is that what I think it is behind us?”

  “Yes. Everything we serve is blessed.”

  “And bewitched?”

  “Sometimes.” She wouldn’t offer more. There were other, more interesting things to talk about. “So where’s the dagger?”

  “At the hotel.”

  “You’re not going to show it to me?”

  “I didn’t know you were interested.” She gaped at him. “I thought it was me and my sparkling wit that intrigued you.” He brushed the hair from her cheek. “So it was just the dagger all along?”

  She caught his mocking tease and set the T-shirts aside. “You know it. I’m a big fan of daggers used to kill witches. So, is it authentic? Does it check out?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to research it back at the lab.”

  “The lab where you collect and analyze dangerous weapons used by paranormals? And possibly plot ways to kill them?”

  “Eryss, we don’t plot. And we leave the slaying to the Order of the Stake. We do, however, spin the truth to assure everyone that the creatures some people want to believe are real are nothing more than fantasy. Can you imagine the panic if a real vampire was discovered living in a New York penthouse? Or werewolves in the wilds of Minnesota?”

  “There are werewolves in the wilds of Minnesota, as well as walking around town.”

  “I know that and you know that, but let’s not start a panic, okay?”

  She bumped his fist with hers. “Deal. I don’t want that any more than the next witch or wolf does. Though I know Harold and his sister know we are witches.”

  “Yes, I—uh...how so?”

  “It’s just a feeling. The way he looks at us, and some of the things he’s said. He knows. And we know Gladiola knows. But she’s been pretty cool about it, until earlier today, when we saw her make a hex sign against us. Did Harold say anything about me? Does he know the dagger is supposed to have belonged to a witch hunter? And what about your father?”

  “Whoa. Slow down.” Dane kissed her again. His lips were still a little cool, so Eryss made sure she didn’t stop until he felt as warm as her heart did. When he pulled away slowly, he bowed his head to hers and said, “I needed that.”

  “You’re distracting us from the topic at hand.”

  He kissed her again. “Just detouring us a bit.”

  He cupped the back of her head and delivered a hard kiss that was bruisingly delicious and so worth the intensity. It was a claiming kiss, a kiss that wanted to own and mark her. It was a king’s kiss to his queen. And she had never felt more worthy. Together they could be so—

  He sat up abruptly, pulling Eryss from the idea of their future. “So, the facts,” he said. “Harold did not mention you specifically. He is aware of the witch hunter legend. And what did you want to know about my father?”

  “That’s what I thought you were here for. To learn more about him. Why do you think he owned the dagger?”

  “Our information says he did, and Mr. Stuart confirmed it. Harold was actually his friend. They met in a spelunking club, of all things. On an expedition to Thailand, my father bought the dagger.”

  “So did you learn what you wanted to about him?”

  Dane swiped a palm over his face and winced. “Harold didn’t tell me much about him personally. Supposedly my father picked up the dagger at a street vendor out of fascination, not because he had slain witches or thought it possessed any magical capabilities. He was not a witch hunter, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  She hadn’t been thinking that. Maybe. Okay, a little part of her had been thinking it.

  “So how did Harold know you would ultimately come to get it?”

  “That’s the part I’m still not clear on. As I’ve told you, I found the file about the dagger while cleaning, and noted my father’s name on it. That Harold knew my father is just a grand coincidence.”

  “Nope. Don’t believe that.” Eryss moved up onto her toes, squatting between Dane’s legs. She kissed him quickly, then clasped both his hands. “Nothing in this universe happens without a reason. Not me having portentous dreams about a long-lost lover or nightmares about being stabbed. And you coming to possess a dagger formerly owned by a witch hunter when you are, at this moment, involved with a witch?” She blew out a breath. “I gotta scry on this one. Or have Midge look into it.”

  “Seriously? You think peering into a crystal ball is going to give you answers?”

  “It can’t hurt.” She kissed his knuckle, and noticed the cut on his finger. “Did the dagger do this?” She traced the cut and felt a weird energy spit out at her. And not a friendly one. So unfriendly, in fact, that she retracted. “Did you feel that?”

  “I...feel what? It’s just a cut, Eryss. Even I, someone accustomed to handling weapons, on occasion make a goof.” He pressed a hand over his chest, rubbing the region under his pectoral. “I was so startled after standing there in the snow with blood spattered around me.”

  “What? Dane?” She knelt closer to him and bracketed his face with her palms. “Blood all around you? That had to have come from more than a small cut. What happened with the dagger?”

  “It’s nothing. It was just...” He heaved out a sigh and lifted his hands. “When I took th
e dagger out of the box and held it a few moments, I suddenly had...a vision.”

  She quirked a brow but didn’t say anything. She wanted to hear this.

  “I was bleeding from my chest and... I felt it. It was the weirdest thing. I’ve never experienced anything like it before. I knew I was standing in the hotel room, and yet I saw snow all around me, as if I were standing outside. And blood spattered the snow. A lot of blood. And the woman standing before me had a dagger in her chest. The dagger I had just been holding.”

  Eryss swallowed and stood up. She paced toward the empty kegs stacked against the far wall. She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t he understand what he’d experienced?

  “I know what you’re thinking.” He jumped up to a standing position, as well. “I shouldn’t have told you about it. It’s nothing, Eryss. Just a wild imagination.”

  She put up a palm to block him, unwilling to listen to his ridiculous excuses. No longer would she allow him the easy way out. He knew the truth. And no amount of convincing on her part would be successful, until he accepted the possibility. By the goddess, the man believed in the various paranormal species—why couldn’t he wrap his head around reincarnation?

  She met his gaze. He shrugged and offered an innocent but unaccepting wince. Seriously?

  “Right. I’m not going to convince a scientist who believes in bloodsucking immortals that he’s lived before.” She gestured toward the shelves of T-shirts. “I should get back to work.”

  “Eryss, please, you don’t understand.”

  She grabbed a stack of white shirts and shook her head. “Nope, I don’t. But I’m not going to argue with you. I have work to do. Maybe I can stop by your hotel room later with something to eat? I should be done in a few hours.”

  He nodded. “That’ll give me time to research the baselard. Now that I have what I’ve come for, I, uh... I’m not headed back to Santa Cruz immediately. Thought I’d extend my vacation a bit.”

  For her? She wanted to hug him and kiss him and thank him for that thoughtful gesture, but Eryss couldn’t force herself to touch him. Not until he stepped into reality and accepted what she already knew.

  Dane Winthur had lived previous lives. And had been her lover in those lives.

  “I’ll leave you then. But, Eryss...” He took her hand and pulled her closer, even as she coached herself not to appear as if she was pulling away. “You know I would never do a thing to hurt you, yes?”

  She didn’t know that. And he didn’t know that, either. He didn’t even know his own truth.

  She nodded and kissed him quickly. “See you in a few.”

  * * *

  Eryss finished the inventory and checked with Mireio to see if she needed help tonight. There were three on staff, so Eryss was good to go. They’d opened two hours earlier, and regulars sat before the bar nursing the blueberry cream ale, while in the other room that overlooked the street, a rowdy group played a game of Jenga at one of the long oak tables.

  She intended to head over to Dane’s hotel, because she had to see that sword. Baselard. Whatever. And they had to talk. She had to know that he knew. But it was very probable he did not know.

  Why would he seduce her and make love to her if he really was a witch hunter? That didn’t make sense. So when he’d told her he didn’t have ill intentions toward her, he meant it.

  So far.

  But what had his taking the witch hunter’s blade in hand done to him? He’d had a vision. A bloody vision of death that had paralleled her own visions. And even if Dane didn’t believe in portents, she certainly did.

  So she swung by DaVanni’s and picked up some hoagie sandwiches, then headed over to the American Inn. Dane’s room was close to the pool, and the smell of chlorine and humidity wafted down the hallway. She knocked and heard someone swear on the other side of the door. She heard the lock click, and the door swiftly opened.

  “Uh, Eryss? Hi?”

  She held up the food bag. “I said I’d stop by?”

  “Right. Uh...right.” He stepped back and she saw he held the dagger. When he saw her notice, he shrugged. “I was just swinging it. You know, field testing it. For research purposes, of course.”

  “Of course.” She closed the door behind her and shed her coat and gloves, not caring to hang them up. She was too interested in what he held. “Can I take a look at it?”

  “Can we eat first? I’m starving. Didn’t realize that I’d skipped lunch until right now. What did you bring? I can’t place the smell.”

  “The smell is processed meat and plastic cheese.”

  “I’m in. I’ve got some water in the fridge.”

  Dane had placed the dagger in a wooden box decorated with elaborate carvings. Eryss tried not to be distracted by it sitting on the middle of the bed, but the sandwich was lackluster, and she could almost feel the blade’s energy hum through the air. Something felt different in the room. And while it could be her hesitant feelings toward Dane, she tried to remain neutral.

  Finally, she set down the half-finished deli sandwich and wiped her hands. “We need to talk.”

  Dane nodded as he chewed. “That’s why I’m still here.”

  “Good. So let’s talk about what I can feel flowing from that damned box as if some kind of radioactive energy is inside.”

  “Seriously? You can feel energy coming from it?” He wiped his mouth and set the sandwich aside. “I know what you’re thinking, Eryss. But I happen to know myself quite well. I’ve never had a murderous bone in my body. I have no desire to harm a witch.”

  She sighed and gave him a pleading look.

  “What do you want me to say? Eryss, I’m on your team. The whole purpose of the Agency is to protect the paranormals.”

  She had to agree with that. And yet she still felt strange sitting here with him. Or rather, in the vicinity of the dagger. It wasn’t beneficent. In fact, it might very well be evil.

  “That is not my dagger,” he reiterated. “I am not some former witch hunter reincarnated into a new life who has come to slay or burn you. Trust me on that one.”

  “Then why the vision about you stabbing a woman and she in turn stabbing you? It was exactly like mine, Dane.”

  “It was a fluke. You told me about your visions, and I subconsciously grasped on to those same images.”

  Chuffing out a frustrated breath, she barely stopped herself from pounding the table with a fist. “For what reason?”

  “How the hell should I know? I’m not a psychologist. That’s my mother. Listen, I don’t think you understand how much I like you, Eryss. I mean, I’m here, in Minnesota, when I could be on a flight back to California. I want to be here because of you. You...mean something to me. And I’m not sure how to walk away from you.”

  Eryss swallowed back a protest. His confession struck her heart in the most unexpected way. Because she agreed with him. He meant something to her. And she didn’t know what she’d do if he walked away from her. Not because she was madly in love with him, but because of the potential for so much more between them. And she wanted to explore that.

  She got up and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms across his shoulders and tilting her head against his. “Just hold me,” she said. “We’ll figure this out.”

  Melting against his warm, masculine form, she slid her hand inside his vest. Nuzzling her nose to his cheek, she inhaled leather and ocean surf and oregano and tomato sauce.

  Dane slid his hand along her thigh and tugged her closer. “Feels good holding you. Like when I find myself gliding through the center of a barrel wave, surrounded by water, but none of it touches me. In that moment? I feel as if I’m where I was destined to be.”

  His confession reminded her that he didn’t belong here in Minnesota with her. He could never be happy away from the surf and sea he called home. Could a long-distance relationship work? The idea interested her not at all. And yet she had been feeling a little too rooted lately. And she did have a goal of opening another brewery on either the West or Ea
st Coast.

  No, that was thinking too far into the future. They needed to deal with right now before they could advance to what might be.

  “Why don’t you take a look at the dagger,” he suggested. “I’d like your opinion on it.”

  “Okay.” She stood, and when she did, he picked up his sandwich to finish it. Never deny a man his food.

  Carefully, Eryss approached the box. The cover was not on it, and the dagger sat on a bed of crinkled brown paper shreds.

  “It’s a baselard,” Dane said. “You know about that?”

  “No, I’m not much for weapons. Do you know how old it is?”

  “The thirteenth century is when baselards were first made.”

  She would never touch it without knowing its origins, and those were mysteriously intriguing. Holding her hands palms down over the blade, she closed her eyes and focused on the energy she could sense streaming from the weapon. It was vibrant and active, and...dark.

  A sudden jolt pushed her off balance and she stumbled backward, landing in the armchair before the window.

  “Eryss!” Dane rushed to her. “What happened? Did you touch it?”

  “No,” she said with decided defeat. “It repulsed me. It’s warded.”

  “Really?” He twisted to look toward the bed. “I did feel some kind of funky vibrations when I held it. But you know me and vibrations.” He picked up the dagger by the hilt, examining the damascened blade. It glinted in a beam of pale winter sunlight.

  And Eryss pushed back in the chair, feeling a nervous shudder tighten her veins. She wasn’t wearing any protective tourmaline or a spell, so with a whisper, she pulled on a white light and felt it hug her briefly from toe to crown.

  “What was that?” Dane asked, looking up from the blade. “Did you just cast some magic?”

  “I pulled up a protective shield.”

  He dropped the dagger onto the bed. “But I told you I would never harm you, Eryss. You have to believe me.”

  “I do believe the man who doesn’t know himself. But once you do know? I’m a little worried—oh, crap!”