Branded by Lust: 4 (Night Seekers)

by Holt, Desiree

  “Jesus.” Logan blew out a breath. “You want me to go see him?”

  “Better you than me. At least you can answer his question.”

  “What kind of guy is he?” Logan wanted to know. “What’s your take on him? Is he liable to freak out?”

  Danvers gave a half-laugh, half-grunt. “Man’s done three tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. I don’t think much scares him anymore. Anyway, he wanted me to come out there but you know you’re the logical one to see him.”

  “Okay. Give me his address. You’ve got Doug and Ford quietly spreading the word to the ranches in the county and the isolated homes?”

  “For all the good it will do,” Danvers snorted. “People around here are so used to hunting wild animals you can hardly scare them about anything.”

  “Just have them stick to the message. At least people will be on guard.”

  “Rebecca and I will head on over to Ben Crater’s right now.”

  “You’ll call me after you see him?” the sheriff asked.

  “Yes. Depending on what he saw, we might need to change our points of reference for the search.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

  “What’s up?” Rebecca asked.

  “Little change in our plans for the morning. It appears our devil beast has made one of his daytime appearances.”

  * * * * *

  The creature crawled back into its cave, its blood lust slaked for the moment. Hunting this morning had been a bad idea. The programmed functions of its brain told him that. But the place was isolated with thick copses of trees dotting the landscape. Perfect hiding places until nightfall.

  The chips in its brain signaling when to shift were sending out jolts of pain, a signal that the beast had deviated from the plan imprinted there. The pain increased in intensity until it was so bad the devil beast howled in pain and shoved its head against the frozen wall of its hiding place. Maybe the cold would ease the agony but it didn’t seem to help.

  And now all of its other signals were thrown off. In this condition it wouldn’t be able to hunt again for a day or two and the lust would be raging inside.

  The beast began alternately clawing at itself and banging its head against the frozen snow. When the pain didn’t abate it lifted its head and let loose with a screeching roar.

  * * * * *

  Ben Crater stood at the big window in his living room and watched the big truck coming down his driveway. It didn’t belong to anyone he knew and it sure as hell wasn’t the sheriff’s. Who the hell was “dropping in” to see him? And what had happened to the sheriff? Did he think Ben’s call was a prank? Something from an idiot?

  The driver’s side door of the truck opened and a man taller and broader than Ben climbed out, a sheepskin rancher’s coat protecting him from the cold, his Stetson pulled low over his face. He walked around to open the passenger door and help a woman out of the truck. Even with her heavy winter clothing Ben could see she was slender. She hunched down into her collar as thick blonde hair swirled in the wind.

  What the hell?

  Was this some do-gooder couple coming to give him a welfare check? He thought people around here respected privacy.

  They clomped onto his porch and seconds later there was a heavy knock on the door. For a moment he considered just not answering, hoping they hadn’t seen him at the window. But then a knock sounded again—heavier this time—and he sighed. Apparently there was nothing for it but to let them in then get them out as soon as possible. He pasted a smile on his face and pulled the door open.

  “Can I help you?” He hoped his voice sounded polite but aloof.

  “I’m Logan Tanner,” the man said. “I have a ranch the other side of Overlook.” He held out his hand.

  Ben shook it briefly. “You’re quite a ways from home, aren’t you?”

  “Actually Rance Danvers asked us to come here.” He turned to the woman. “This is Rebecca Black. Could we come in?”

  Ben frowned. “The sheriff asked you to come here? Why didn’t he come himself? Or did he think my story was so unbelievable he didn’t want to waste his time on it?”

  “On the contrary. He sent Rebecca and me because of that story.” He gestured impatiently. “Listen, I could explain a lot more if we weren’t standing out here freezing our asses off.”

  Ben stared at them for a moment, wondering if they were a couple of crazies he should send on their way or listen to what they had to say. By this time he was already wondering if he’d just been hallucinating. He guessed it wouldn’t hurt anything to hear what they had to say.

  He took a step back from the doorway. “Of course. Come on in. I’m guessing you can tell me I’m crazy as much as the sheriff can.”

  As they brushed past him a strange sensation vibrated through his body. What the hell? But it was gone so quickly he wondered if he’d imagined it. They wiped their boots carefully on the mat before following Ben into the living room.

  “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asked, determined to at least be polite.

  “That would be great,” the man—Logan—said.

  Ben led them into the kitchen where they took off their jackets and gloves. He gestured for them to sit at the table then opened a cupboard to take down mugs. The pot of coffee he’d brewed when he came back into the house was still fresh. He filled mugs and carried them to the table, then took his own seat.

  “Okay,” he said. “Tell me what the hell is going on here.”

  The man and woman looked at each other. Finally Logan Tanner took a swallow of his coffee, set the mug down and looked directly at Ben.

  “Tell me exactly what you saw in the barn. Don’t try to downplay anything because you think I won’t believe it or change it for the same reason. Just give me every detail you can remember.”

  Ben took a drink from his own mug before describing the hellish monster he’d seen. And everything that had happened. Just the retelling gave him the shivers.

  “So, does that ring any bells with you? Are you from the wildlife commission or something like that? Or did you come here to tell me I need a shrink?”

  “No.” It was—what was her name? Oh yeah, Rebecca—who answered him. “No. Nothing like that at all. We’re here because we’re part of a highly specialized team called Night Seekers.”

  Night Seekers? Ben had never heard of them before. “What exactly is it you do with these…?”

  Rebecca and Logan exchanged glances again.

  “I’ll let Logan explain,” she said.

  Logan took another swig of his coffee before he carefully set his mug down. His movements were deliberate, as if he was giving himself time to choose his words.

  “This may require a willing suspension of disbelief from you,” he began, “but a lot of what I’m about to tell you can be found on the internet. Have you ever heard of the legend of the Chupacabra?”

  Ben stared at him. “You want to tell me about a legend?What the hell?”

  “Just bear with me,” Logan said, taking another swallow of coffee. “Believe me when I tell you that every word you’ll hear is the truth and there are eyewitnesses to prove it.” He motioned toward Rebecca. “Including the two of us.”

  Then, as simply and basically as possible, he related information that had Ben’s hair standing on end and ice-skating along his spine. What Logan Tanner was describing to him was worse than any horror movie he’d ever seen. Worse than anything he’d seen in Iraq and Afghanistan, and that had been a theater of horrors he didn’t think he’d ever get out of his mind.

  When Logan finished his narrative he sat back in his chair. Ben knew he and Rebecca were studying him, waiting for his reaction. He finished his coffee, even though by now it was barely lukewarm. Then to give himself a few moments to collect his thoughts he brought the pot to the table, gesturing to see if anyone wanted seconds. He refilled all the mugs while everything he’d heard was percolating in his brain.

  Finally he took his seat again and looked at the
two people across from him.

  “I’d say you’re both crazy, making this up or pulling a con,” he told them, “if I hadn’t seen this creature myself.”

  Logan leaned forward. “You saw it? Yourself? Are you sure?”

  Ben nodded. “There’s no mistaking it, not based on your description. It showed up outside my barn looking like the creature from hell.”

  Rebecca’s laugh was far from humorous. “That describes it all right.”

  “I swear to god,” he went on, “I thought my heart stopped beating. But where in the fucking hell did it come from? According to what you tell me it’s struck in so many different places. It seems like you track one down and kill it, only to have it pop up again hundreds of miles away. What’s the deal?”

  Rebecca fiddled with her coffee mug. “The man who funds Night Seekers has scientists working around the clock to find the answer. We now believe someone is breeding these devil beasts and—”

  “Breeding them?” Ben interrupted. “Are you shitting me? What the fuck?” For a moment he wondered if he’d stepped into an alternate universe.

  But Logan just nodded. “Combining different DNAs. Experimenting to see what works best.” He leaned forward. “And the sickest part? He’s also using human DNA.”

  “And,” Rebecca added, “the scientists are finding memory chips implanted in the brain matter that we think are programmed with different signals. Like how to hunt prey, what areas to cover, how far apart the kills should be. They’re still trying to pull all the information from the chips.”

  Ben raked his fingers through his hair. “This is like something out of that old television show, The Twilight Zone. I still can’t believe what I saw.”

  “We know exactly how you feel,” Rebecca told him. “Logan and I—in fact, everyone on the Night Seekers team—have lost someone to the Chupacabra. There was a lull in the killings for a stretch but when they started up again our team was formed with specific orders to hunt it down and kill it. Except it’s like the head of the Hydra. You kill one and three more take its place.”

  “I wonder why it didn’t attack me? I was right there. Easy prey.”

  Logan and Rebecca exchanged another look.

  “We talked about this on the way over,” Logan told him. “Our best guess is the horse changed the dynamic.”

  “The horse?” He frowned. “How? Why?”

  “It’s never attacked an animal of that size. It probably threw a kink in the beast’s programming and it got confused. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be back. Like I said earlier, it’s programmed to search for an isolated dwelling with enough cover around it so the beast can hide until it attacks. Or with the abilities of a shifter, it can assume a different form and catch you off guard.”

  “Holy shit!”

  They all sat in silence for a moment. Ben finally broke it.

  “So can I assume you’re working with the sheriff on this? That he buys into this?”

  “Not hardly.” Rebecca gave a ladylike snort. “We looked at the body of the park ranger who was killed and showed him pictures of other victims. He was hard-pressed to claim there was no similarity.”

  “But originally,” Logan added, “it was just as hard for him to buy into it as it would be for you if you hadn’t seen the creature yourself.”

  Rebecca locked her fingers together tightly. “Logan and I still haven’t recovered from the devastation of such killings. He lost his sister and brother-in-law and I lost twin nephews. We’ve seen the horror up close and personal.”

  Ben didn’t even know what to say to that. How to respond.

  “So what now?”

  “Obviously we’d prefer that you don’t share this with anyone else,” Logan told him. “We’re trying to avoid wholesale panic while still warning people to be on guard.”

  “Yeah? And just how are you planning to accomplish that?”

  “Now that we have the sheriff on board we’ve come up with an idea.”

  Logan explained the story he and Sheriff Danvers had agreed on, the one they were spreading around.

  Ben nodded. “Hopefully that will work. But what are you doing about finding this beast and catching it? Or killing. Whatever.”

  “Since the beast works within a twenty-five-mile area we’ve divided the area into sectors, using the spot where the ranger’s body was found as the center of the wheel. We’re looking for residences at the isolated edges of town and ranches—like yours—with neighbors located far away.”

  “And are prepared to shoot with the heaviest artillery we have available if we happen to spot it.” Ben thought for a moment before he spoke again. “I want in on the hunt.”

  Both people stared at him.

  “Listen, Ben—” Logan began.

  Ben held up his hand. “I was a sniper for years with the Marines. I still have a Barrett .50 caliber that can hit a target just over a mile away. Believe me, it’s got plenty of firepower and I know how to use it. I’ve got a snowmobile and a horse for those hard-to-get-to places. Plus even in the short time I’ve lived here I’ve gotten a good fix on the area.”

  “And I’m guessing if we say no you’ll be out there anyway.”

  Ben nodded.

  “Okay. Fine.” He blew out a breath. “I won’t deny we can use the help. But you follow all the rules we’ve set down and don’t go horsing off by yourself.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Then we’re good here. I’ll talk to Rance Danvers and call you with your area to search.”

  They all stood and Ben shook hands with them. When he clasped Logan’s hand he got the same strange sensation as before. But then it was gone.

  And what the hell was that all about?

  “I’ll call you within the half hour,” Logan said on his way out the door. “Be ready and be careful.”

  “Count on it.”

  Chapter Eight

  Both Logan and Rebecca were half frozen by the time they stamped into the house, trying to get feeling back in their feet and pulling off their boots. The last time Rebecca had ridden a horse was ten years ago. She hadn’t forgotten how but her muscles were certainly protesting.

  And the worst part of it was they were having trouble convincing people they might be in real danger. They had focused solely on the isolated ranches and similar situations, giving everyone the story about the escaped convicts, but everyplace they stopped the reaction was the same—“We’re too far off the path for anyone to come here.”

  Which might have been true if the enemy really was human. Rebecca could see—as they picked their way through heavy snowdrifts and around rocky hills and through the stately lodgepole pines—why Logan had chosen horseback for their mode of transportation today. But lordy, it certainly was cold. Even for a native of Maine.

  They left their boots and jackets in the mudroom. Logan built up the fire in the huge stone fireplace and now they sat in front of it holding hot cups of coffee liberally spiked with bourbon. Rebecca was trying to tamp down her frustration along with her fear that even with everyone working on this they wouldn’t be able to prevent a second killing.

  “All we can do is what we can do,” Logan said as if reading her thoughts. “Just like in Maine when we had to warn the farmers and the remote fish and hunting camps. Folks are hardened by the life they lead and have a certain feeling of their own invincibility.”

  “I know, I know. And if we tried to tell them the truth no one would take us seriously.”

  They were silent for long moments as they sipped their drinks and let the results of the day’s work percolate in their minds.

  “What did you think of Ben Crater?” Logan asked finally.

  Rebecca had almost forgotten about Ben as they’d ridden through part of their assigned sector today

  “I like him. He seems to be a very no-nonsense person, which I think is why the whole episode with the devil beast shook him up so much.”

  “Oh yeah. I’d say you’re right about that. And it c
ertainly doesn’t hurt to have an experienced sniper on our team.”

  Rebecca tilted her head to look at him. “But that’s not what you’re asking about, is it?”

  “No. Oh he was what I expected after Danvers told me the guy had done three tours in the Marines. A hard-ass.”

  He scratched his head. “When I shook hands with him and then when we were leaving I got some kind of strange…something…from him.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  Logan scratched his cheek. “Don’t freak when I tell you this, but there’s a remote possibility Ben Crater is a shapeshifter.”

  Rebecca stared at him, her stomach doing a jiggy little dance. “You’re kidding. Right?” But when he didn’t deny it she asked, “This may sound stupid but is there some kind of chemical reaction or something that helps one shifter recognize another?”

  “Sometimes. Usually. It’s either by individual scent or a chemical reaction of both our scents. Perception and impression can play a big part. I thought maybe I caught Ben’s scent but he’d been in the barn calming his horse down and the aroma of the horse was layered over his own personal scent.”

  Then he shook his head, as if to shake a thought loose. “Pay no attention to me. Maybe I’m just seeing things where there’s nothing to see.” He grinned at her. “Or smell.”

  Filling the carafe and pushing the button, Rebecca took down two mugs from the cupboard while they waited for the coffee to brew.

  “But if he is a shifter you should let him know you are. It would give you someone to run with.” She turned to look at him. “And hunt with, just like you did with Clint when we were in Maine.”

  “I don’t know, Bek. Those of us isolated from packs don’t like to make overtures unless we’re absolutely sure.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “If we approach a human by mistake you can imagine the reaction. We have to be very careful and depend on our senses.”

  “If he is ashifter maybe you’ll see him when you run at night.”

  “I’d say the prospects are likely. Other than that I guess there isn’t much we can do tonight.”