Taming the Hunter

by Michele Hauf

  “It’s the sword,” she said. “When he holds it, some kind of wicked enchantment binds him.”

  “Then we’ve got to get it out of his hands,” Valor said. “Let me try.”

  Clapping her hands together over her head, Valor sent a burst of her air magic through the chilly night. It hit the blade with a crackle of violet sparks. Dane hissed and released one hand from the hilt, shaking it as if burned.

  Eryss used that moment of surprise to send up a swirl of snow from the sidewalk, a tight coil that curled about the hilt, around Dane’s hand and up the blade. He cried out and dropped the dagger. It hit the icy concrete and skittered toward Eryss and Valor. Valor bent to collect the weapon, but as she picked it up she let out a yelp, then dropped it.

  Unconcerned with the dagger, Eryss slowly approached Dane. His hand still crackled with the violet sparks of magic Valor had sent at him.

  “What the hell?” he shouted. When he looked up at Eryss’s approach, he sneered, but then his mouth dropped open in a gape. “Eryss?”

  “Yes, Dane, it’s Eryss. Do you think I’m someone else?”

  “You—she...what am I—” He straightened and slapped his palms to his jaws, then swept them down in disbelief. “What did I just do?”

  “It’s okay, Dane. The enchantment ended when you dropped the sword. Are you okay?”

  He was visibly shaking, but when he met her gaze his eyes were now a deep chocolate brown instead of that white glowing color.

  “Me?” He pressed his hands to her cheeks, cupping her face gently. “What about you? I’m so sorry. I don’t know—you said it was an enchantment? It’s possible. The baselard has been speaking to me since I first put my hands to it. It was waiting for me in my hotel room. And then I had another vision of Ivor and Alexandra. Oh, hell. We need to talk.”

  “Good call,” said Valor from behind them. “But first we have to figure out what to do with this.” She toed the dagger. “I can’t touch it. Nor do I want to. And I don’t think it would be a good idea to let the witch hunter pick it up again.”

  “He’s not—” Eryss began, at the same time Dane said, “I’m not a witch hunter.”

  Valor’s left eyebrow quirked. “You could have fooled me. If this is what love does to people, then count me out.”

  “Love?” Dane asked.

  And while he was considering it, Eryss felt compelled to hug Dane, more to reassure him that all would be well than herself. She was still frightened. In the moments he’d held that dagger, he’d wanted to destroy her. He was the last man she’d ever thought to fear.

  “Valor is right,” Dane said. “I can’t pick up that thing.”

  “Neither can either of us,” Valor said. “It’s definitely a witch blade. And believe it or not, you were on the hunt just now. Why don’t the two of you leave and I’ll take care of this. I’ll give Trouble a call. That is, if you think everything’s okay between the two of you, Eryss.”

  “It will be.”

  Dane pushed away gently from Eryss’s hug. “No, I can’t let you take the dagger. It’s mine. It belongs in storage with the Agency.”

  “We can get it wherever it needs to be without your assistance.” Valor toed the blade again, and it spun halfway around on the ice. “Seriously, dude. You going to risk touching it again?”

  “No, but...”

  His perplexity over what to do was obvious. Perhaps even now the dagger was calling to him, tempting him to pick it up.

  Eryss tugged Dane’s arm. “Valor will take care of it. She won’t do anything except put it in a safe place until you inform us what should be done with it. It’s okay for the night, yes?”

  His body refused to relax, to turn and walk alongside her, away from the weapon.

  “You said we needed to talk,” she pressed.

  “Who is Trouble?” he asked Valor.

  “Werewolf friend of mine. He should be able to pick it up, no problem. I’ll give him a call. You cool with that?”

  “Not really.” Dane glanced to Eryss. She nodded at him, offering an encouraging smile. “Fine,” he said. “Call me as soon as it’s been secured,” he insisted. “And don’t try to put any fancy mojo or spells on it. It’s already enchanted. I’ll need to see if I can turn up anything more on the dagger and its history.”

  “You know its history. We both do.” Eryss slid her hand into his grasp. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

  He nodded and followed her toward the car. They drove out of the parking lot, Eryss giving a little wave to Valor, who was talking on her cell phone.

  * * *

  The werewolf had been close, heading to a bar in a neighboring town, when Valor called him. He pulled up in a camo-painted Ford F150, music blasting. Valor liked Trouble. But he was called Trouble for a reason, and she would never consider him anything more than a good time. She’d had the opportunity to hook up with him last year, and while she almost had, she preferred to draw a solid line between friendship and lovers.

  He hopped out of the truck. Valor was only a little disappointed he wasn’t wearing a black leather kilt, which was his normal attire, but black jeans instead. “You got a problem, sweetie?”

  “I’m not your sweetie. And yes.” She toed the dagger. “I need you to pick this up for me.”

  He propped his hands at his hips and looked over the dagger on the ground. Gave her a funny smile. “Seriously? Too heavy for you?”

  “It’s a blade used to kill witches.”

  “Ah. Well then. What do I get out of the deal?”

  She smiled. “I just kegged some stout.”

  “That’s a good start. You want to fill a few growlers and head over to my place for some Netflix and chill?”

  She bumped his fist with hers. Beer and movies with a sexy werewolf? She could dig it. But as for the chill part? “Let’s do pizza instead.”

  * * *

  “I’m appalled by the way I acted toward you,” Dane said as Eryss navigated them toward her home through a gentle snowfall. He was still shaking from the events in the parking lot, so he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “I’m so sorry, Eryss. You must have been frightened out of your wits.”

  She cast him a quick glance that served as a sharp cut to his assumption. Eryss, frightened? Doubtful. She had countered his attack with swift and powerful witchcraft. The baselard had been no match to her and her friend’s magic.

  And that didn’t unnerve him so much as freak him out. What was happening? He was not the witch hunter. And yet, was he? The dagger had led him to Eryss tonight, and he’d been out of his mind with anger toward her about the death of his father.

  A father who had died many centuries earlier.

  “It’s bizarre,” he muttered, for the small car felt too quiet now. She wasn’t in the mood to converse. And he understood that. But he couldn’t fight the nervous energy jittering up and down his limbs. “Who is this Trouble person your friend is calling?”

  “Werewolf,” Eryss said curtly. She signaled and turned into her driveway.

  Dane nodded. He’d seen a werewolf shift once. The creature defied all scientific rationale. Watching a man transform into the shape of a wolf-man in a matter of seconds? It had been the event that had cinched his beliefs and his desire to work with the Agency. Because no man should ever have to witness such and then be left with the unthinkable task of trying to figure it all out. It really was better for the common man not to know.

  And it had refueled his childhood fascination for the unknown. A fascination that had been born the day he’d found the sword packed away in his father’s trunk.

  It was a strange coincidence that he’d lost his father in the thirteenth century and also in his present life. Of course, he knew Eryss would tell him there were no coincidences. And scientifically, the law of averages explained it, as well. How many lives had he lived? He had surely lost his father at a young age in a handful of those lives.

  The car rolled into the garage and Eryss turned off the igni
tion. She got out quickly, closing the door behind her. Her anger lingered in the car. And Dane inhaled through his nose and nodded.

  “I’ll make things right with her. I have to.”

  * * *

  Eryss had needed to get away from Dane for a minute or two. See if she could find her calm. He had to have noticed her tight grip on the steering wheel during the drive home.

  And yet, if he’d been enchanted by the sword, she could not blame him for his actions. So finding a sense of calm was important, not only to her well-being, but to Dane’s face. She’d never slapped a man before, but—oh, did it ever feel necessary now.

  “Chill,” she whispered as she paced the kitchen floor before the butcher-block table. He hadn’t come inside yet. “He’s as confused as I am. Surround me with white light,” she said, drawing her fingers down from her crown to her toes. As an added measure, she grabbed the black tourmaline crystal from the windowsill and shoved it in her jeans pocket. It would serve as a protection from negative energies.

  Valor hadn’t called yet, but Eryss assumed Trouble might still be on his way to the parking lot. He lived about forty minutes away. He and Valor were friends. That werewolf was impulsive and loved a good fight, for any reason.

  Men and their ridiculous need to prove they were the alpha.

  The door opened and Dane stepped inside, kicking his shoes off on the rubber mat and shedding gloves, hat and coat as quickly. He searched her face, perhaps gauging her mood, so Eryss offered a weak smile. She was calm. She would not blame him for what the enchantment had made him do.

  “Did Valor call?” he asked, remaining, wisely, by the door.

  “I’d give her another half hour or so,” Eryss said. “Don’t worry, the dagger will be safe with the two of them.”

  “I trust her because I trust you,” he offered. “But I’m not sure how you can ever trust me again after what happened.” He splayed his hands out before him. “I don’t think I was in my right mind.”

  “You were not. And I can forgive you the enchantment. But the only way to overcome this is to never touch the dagger again. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Now that I’ve learned it’s enchanted, I have to bring it in to the Agency. We have methods of disenchanting it.”

  “Can’t you call in a coworker to pick it up for you? Or try to mail it again? Dane, this is directly related to you and your safety.” Eryss inhaled a sharp breath. “And mine. You said you had a vision of us? Did you mention something about your father?”

  “You killed him.” He walked forward and didn’t approach her, but instead sat at a stool before the table, resting his elbows on the wood. “I saw us in a vision. We looked different, but of course I knew it was us. Ivor and Alexandra. And you stood over a man whom I knew was my father.”

  Eryss slid onto a stool opposite Dane and leaned her elbows on the table. “And?”

  “You were holding a bloody knife. You’d stabbed my father in the heart. And because I was out of my head with anger, I rushed at you.”

  “Weren’t Alexandra and Ivor married in that time period?”

  “Yes.” He clasped his hands before his mouth,. “My anger was so strong. My father—you killed him.”

  “I can’t imagine how I could be so cruel.”

  “Nor I.”

  “But Dane, that was centuries ago. Are you saying you’ve sought vengeance against me through the ages for...?” She couldn’t even speak the heinous crime he’d accused her of committing.

  He shrugged. “I think so. I’m not sure. I just know that I plunged a blade—the baselard—through your heart. And at the same time, you stabbed me. We died together, over my father’s body.”

  Eryss sucked in a breath and stared at her fingers resting on the wood table. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She had murdered his father? It sounded outrageous. And yet he was not a man to fabricate lies or stories. Just a day ago he couldn’t conceive of having visions related to a past life. So now, what he told her had to be true.

  And she had seen them together in that time period as Alexandra and Ivor. Yet only loving one another. Never angry, and certainly not trying to kill each other.

  Then she remembered.

  “In one of my visions, you said something about not stopping until you saw me burn.”

  Dane swallowed audibly. “I think I know that.”

  “Then why haven’t you burned me yet? Why carry this out through the ages? Fire would be the thing to end all this.”

  “Eryss, listen to what you’re saying.” He reached across the table, then stood and rushed around to turn her to face him. “I mean it when I say I would never harm you.”

  “Yes, but maybe you’ve said much the same in the past. It’s not you who is doing the harm, it’s the dagger. It has power over you. It must have picked up the dark enchantment that first time we both perished, over your father’s body. This is...so much to take in.”

  He hugged her, and when she wanted to pull away, Eryss instead laid her head on his shoulder and clung to his warmth, wishing she could lose herself in his leather and spice scent. And also wished that she’d never incited the anacampserote spell to bring her past love to her.

  But would he have come to her no matter what? If she’d always been murdered by Dane before her thirtieth birthday, that meant he would’ve arrived one way or another. Her birthday was only three days away.

  “Do you think this happens between us in every reincarnation?” she asked. “Have we ever simply loved and lived and grown old together?”

  “I don’t know. But how could you have done it?”

  She searched his gaze. “Done what?”

  “Killed my father. I remember you said something about a sacrifice, but I don’t recall what it meant.”

  It was as though a child had just asked her to explain an unthinkable crime. She felt innocence lost in fear. Was he somehow expressing his loss and sadness over the father he’d lost in this lifetime as well? The poor man. He was so lost.

  “I don’t know, Dane. I’ve never had a murderous inclination in my life.”

  “This life,” he corrected.

  “What are you saying? That I could have been a dark witch then? No. I know in my soul that I have always served the Light. I would never take a life without...”

  She couldn’t finish that statement, because obviously she had taken a life. And not just Dane’s father, but Dane’s, as well. Over and over.

  “In self-defense,” she whispered, then stood and walked to the sink to distance herself from her lover’s touch. “Maybe I was protecting you from him?”

  The bar stool scraped the floor as Dane sat again, not answering her question.

  Eryss wished she could grasp a vision of the event, to really know what had happened. There had to be a way. She could return to the soul seer, she supposed.

  Her cell phone rang and she saw it was Valor. Dane watched keenly as she answered. “Everything cool?”

  “Yeah, I’m with Trouble. He’s going to bring the dagger to his dad’s place. You know Malakai Saint-Pierre is a swordsmith?”

  “Right. But what are you thinking? Do you think he can disenchant it?”

  “Not sure. But Trouble thinks he should take a look at it. Where’s the witch hunter?”

  “Here.” Had she just admitted what she and Dane had both been dancing around? Of course he was the witch hunter. “We’re talking.”

  “Be careful, Eryss. Just because the guy doesn’t have a weapon on him doesn’t mean he’s not a danger to you. I know you like the guy, but—hell, maybe I should come stay the night with you.”

  “No, I’m good. I appreciate you taking care of the dagger, Valor. Give Trouble my thanks, too. Everything is cool here. Trust me.” She smiled at Dane, who forced a grim smile onto his tight lips. “I’ll call you in the morning. Thanks.”

  She set the phone on the counter and yawned. She wasn’t so much tired as bone weary. Exhausted from the emotional roller coaster
she’d had to ride lately. All she wanted was to sink into a nice hot bath and soak for an hour. She couldn’t decide if she wanted Dane here or back at the hotel, at a safe distance.

  “Trouble’s dad is a swordsmith,” she explained to Dane. “They’ve taken it there.”

  He stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “They had better not tamper with it.”

  “It’s okay. Malakai and Trouble are werewolves. They know not to mess with magic and enchantments. But it might not hurt to have a craftsman take a look at it. See what he thinks. You okay with that?”

  Dane heaved out a sigh. “Not really, but I haven’t much choice, do I? Where do these werewolves live?”

  “About a forty-five-minute drive from here. I’ll take you there in the morning, uh, if we decide that’s a safe thing to do.”

  Dane nodded. “Right. The whole enchantment thing.” He rubbed his jaw. “This is what I don’t get. I apparently have known through the ages that fire is what kills witches. So the fact that I never take it that far makes me wonder why. Have I not wanted to make your death final? Is there something that keeps holding me back?”

  It was an interesting way to consider things. And maybe, just maybe... “I did say our love would survive the ages. Maybe love is what will end this?”

  He tilted his head in question.

  “Love must have started it. If we were married, we were obviously in love. So maybe love will end it.”

  “Like we have to get married again? I don’t understand that. I mean, I’m not even...” He stopped, slapped a palm over his chest. “Well, you know.”

  She quickly nodded. “Oh, sure. This has just been a fling. I wouldn’t expect either of us to fall in love so quickly.”

  But truthfully? She already had. Because soul mates and true love did mean something to Eryss. And she had called Dane to her. With the power of a love that had survived the centuries. But if he didn’t feel it, a girl couldn’t ask a man to love her. Not even if it meant saving her life.

  “Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

  Eryss wrapped her arms across her stomach, feeling so alone standing halfway across the room from him, and desperately wanting a safe place to land. “Do you want to leave?” she returned.