Dark Hunt

by Naomi Clark

  The internet didn’t have much that dispelled the romantic Hollywood vampire cliché. Every website I found was full of excited teenage girls swooning over sexy immortal men and daydreaming about becoming vampires themselves. It was a phenomenon I was familiar with. I loved a good sexy vampire story myself—Katrina Pagan’s world was full of brooding bloodsuckers looking for their soul mates. Hell, the same romantic mystique had gathered around werewolves. In America it was pretty hot right now for human teenagers to pretend to be wolves. They gave themselves ‘pack names’ like Claw and Sabre or whatever, and wore wolf jewelry. I suppose it was like being a Goth, but slightly more pointless. The craze hadn’t made its way over to the UK yet, but I was sure it was just a matter of time.

  Still vampires seemed to cast their own spell. Wolves were cool, yeah, but we were old news now, mundane, out in the open for examination. Vampires were mythical, alluring and mysterious. People loved them, fawned over the legends and stories and had created a whole cult around these creatures that didn’t exist. It was sort of scary.

  I chewed my lip. If these kids had seen the creature I’d seen last night, they wouldn’t be so excited.

  A bit more browsing threw up a few sites on Eastern European folklore that fitted better with what I’d seen last night: haggard, stinking corpses who could apparently be baffled by garlic and grains of rice. I doubted that, but at least that kind of vampire made more sense than the emo sex symbol kind, in a sick sort of way.

  I sighed. I needed Shannon. Research and rooting truth out of crap was her job, after all. I checked my watch. It was three-thirty; only two hours or so since I’d left her. Evening visiting hours were between six and seven, and I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to see her if she hadn’t regained consciousness. I’d probably used up all my goodwill with the nurses by insisting they let me visit this morning. I’d go anyway, of course. Even if all I got to do was stare at Shannon through the ward windows, I’d go.

  “May I borrow this?” Clémence asked, slinging herself onto the sofa beside me and tapping the laptop. “I should go to the Loup Garou forum and tell people what has happened.”

  I closed down my vampire windows and handed the laptop over. Sun eased herself onto the sofa between us.

  “So what will you do?” she asked Clémence. “Did you own Loup Garou, the building I mean?”

  Clémence shook her head. “We rented. We used the money from the vending machines and bar, and we charged people some small money to use the computers. Sometimes the Pack helps if we are short. Helped,” she corrected herself with a frown. “I don’t know what we will do now.”

  “There must be somewhere else you can use until the warehouse is repaired,” I said.

  She shrugged. “Until we know how bad the fire was, I don’t know. I will speak to the alphas and see what they think.”

  She looked lost. They both did. As much as Sun seemed chirpy right now, there was still a fragility about her. It didn’t help that her future was up in the air. I could sympathize. I felt like nothing had gone right since I had moved back home. My cousin’s murder was still unsolved. The brutal mess with Sly and Silver Kiss with all the tension that had caused between me and Shannon, and now this stupid holiday. It had been meant to undo that tension, but now Shannon was comatose in hospital and I was babysitting one pregnant werewolf and one homeless one. I rubbed my face, a headache tingling behind my eyes. What had brought us to this point? My return to Pack life, to all its politics and rules?

  Well, yeah. Okay. I knew part of it involved that. I’d been a lone wolf for most of my adult life and as much as I loved being back with my family and friends, I still felt a little trapped by the Pack. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t figured that out, or that moving down south had left Shannon isolated and rebuilding her PI business from scratch. What I didn’t know yet was whether these things were teething problems or part of something bigger. Something I worried that me and Shannon couldn’t fix by running away to Paris for a week. Not that Paris had given us a chance to even try.

  I chewed my fingernails until these dark thoughts forced me to my feet. Pacing the room. I suppressed the urge to whine and growl. I needed Shannon. I needed her to tell me I was being silly and that vampires weren’t real. I needed her to tell me that our only real problem was adjusting to the changes we’d made in our lives.

  Sun and Clémence watched me pace. They both seemed as twitchy and nervous, affected by my own anxiety, I thought. Seeing their faces tight with worry, I forced myself to stand still, stopping by the window and smiling at them. “Shall we do something?” I asked. “I feel like a walk.” I needed to do something and sitting here until six o’clock was just going to make me miserable.

  Sun shook her head. “I want to finish going through Mike’s clothes. You guys have fun though” She offered me a soft, sympathetic smile as she left, like she knew ‘fun’ wasn’t really an option.

  “You should speak to the police,” Clémence told me. I winced as Sun paused in the doorway, face curious. “They must know Le Monstre is not a wolf,” Clémence continued. “Think—it could save lives!”

  ***

  Sun covered her mouth, eyes wide with shock as she turned to me. “You haven’t been to the police yet, Ayla?”

  “I haven’t had a chance!” I protested. “I’ve been in hospital, Shannon...”

  “That thing killed Mikey!” Sun shouted, surprising me with the force in her voice. “You saw it, you fought it, you need to go to the police right now and tell them everything!”

  “I’m going to!” I pressed my fingertips to my forehead, feeling the headache pulsing through again. “It’s all been a bit mad, you know, Sun? I haven’t exactly had time for statements yet.”

  “But this is important! Ayla, they might catch it!”

  “Sun, I promise, I swear I’m going to the police.” I lowered my voice, trying to sound calm in the hope it would soothe her too.

  She didn’t look calm, standing there in the doorway with one hand on her bump and the other clinging to the door frame as if it was all that was holding her up. Her face was pale and her eyes frightened. For a second I thought she might actually collapse. “What if it comes back? What if it’s waiting for us...?” She broke off with a panicked sob.

  I rushed to her side, grabbing her hand and pulling her into a hug. She sagged against me and let me guide her back to the sofa. “Sun, stop it,” I told her. “There’s nothing for you to worry about, okay?” Not sure what else to say, I added, “Think of the baby.”

  Like magic words, they snapped her out of the sudden panic. She shook her head, rearranged her hair, and sighed long and slow. “I think I need to lay down. The baby’s kicking.”

  That sounded much better than her freaking out on the sofa, so I helped her back to her own flat, settled her in bed with a drink and left her to it. “And if you’re going to wander off in the dead of night again, leave us a note, alright?”

  She flushed and promised me she would. “Not that I’m going to,” she added with a shudder. “I can’t believe I did at all, after everything...”

  “Just relax and get some rest. I’ll come and see you later.” Hopefully with Shannon, I added silently.

  Back in our flat, Clémence was sitting on the edge of the sofa looking nervous and embarrassed.

  “I upset her, non? I am sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I told her. “I don’t think the extra stress is doing her any good.”

  Clémence stared at her hands. She clasped them together in her lap and nodded. I suddenly felt like I’d acquired two adolescents. Tucking them in, telling them off, what was next? Mashing up their vegetables? “You’re right though,” I continued, wanting to take that kicked-puppy look off her face. “I should go to the police. Will you come with me, help me translate?”

  She brightened at that, jumping up. “May I use your bathroom first? And borrow some clothes, s’il te plaît?”

  I rummaged through my clothes while she sho
wered, finding a pair of jeans and a faded long-sleeved Chemical Brothers t-shirt. Clémence muttered a few French insults about my taste in music under her breath as she pulled it on, which I easily ignored since I didn’t understand them. As the shower at Hôtel-Dieu de Paris had been a rushed affair, I took my turn in the bathroom and then, clean and dressed, we headed for the police station.

  ***

  I didn’t realize how nervous I was until we were actually there, sitting on scratchy plastic chairs in the bland reception area. I flashed back to my first night in Paris: Mike dead on the cobbles, Sun screaming, that bittersweet scent poisoning the air. The police taking us to the station. And here I was again, with Clémence instead of Shannon and my own story of horror and blood in the quiet Parisian night. My wolf grew more impatient and restless with every tick of the wall clock. My head ached, my legs itched, my heart pounded. What if the police didn’t believe me? The tour guide in the catacombs hadn’t; why should anyone else? And what did I tell them anyway? I didn’t know the French for ‘vampire’ but I bet I’d recognize the French for ‘crazy werewolf bitch’ when I heard it.

  In the end I kept it simple. A stern-looking wolf officer took my statement, with Clémence translating when my broken French failed me. The officer nodded seriously and made notes as I told him how Shannon and I had been attacked on our way home, how the attacker had bitten us both, landing us in hospital. I left out words like ‘monster,’ ‘vampire,’ and ‘poisonous fangs’. I made it sound more like a mugging by some cracked-out freak—a cracked-out human freak.

  The officer seemed very interested in that. “You think he was a human?” he asked me via Clémence. “Not a werewolf?”

  “I’m sure,” I said firmly. “He definitely didn’t smell anything like a wolf.” The officer nodded. As a fellow wolf, that meant more to him than it would a human officer, but it didn’t help much. It was something I knew I’d hate, working as a community support officer—if I ever became one. The idea that you could know, completely and without a doubt, who’d committed a crime, but not be able to use that knowledge to convict them would chafe at me.

  The interview didn’t last much longer. The officer wanted to speak to Shannon. I told him with a lump in my throat that it might not happen today. He told me he’d contact the hospital himself, scolded me for not coming to the police earlier, and sent us on our way.

  Outside the station, I sagged against the wall and tried not to sob. “What shall we do now?” I asked Clémence in an effort to distract myself.

  She shrugged, seeming no happier than I was. “I would like to go see Thérèse. I think maybe alone?”

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea?” I asked her, touching her shoulder. “Patric...”

  “I need to see her,” Clémence insisted. Her lips were straight and thin, eyes serious, and I decided to leave her to it. Obviously keeping her distance until Patric was off the scene only went so far.

  “Well, you’re welcome to stay at the flat if you need to,” I told her. “If I’m not there, I’m sure Sun won’t be going far.”

  We parted with a hug, and Clémence left me feeling lost outside the police station. I didn’t want to sit in a café and it was too early to visit Shannon. I’d forgotten to pack her fresh clothes anyway. Without her, the idea of doing the tourist thing was unappealing. It seemed pointless visiting the museums and galleries by myself, when it was Shannon who would really appreciate them.

  In the end I hopped on the Metro and went to Le Bois de Boulogne, Paris’s largest park. Even if I couldn’t shapeshift and go for a run, it lifted my spirits a little to see some trees and shrubs, to smell honeysuckle and pond water. Humans and wolves lounged around on the trimmed grass, having picnics, playing with kids, reading, throwing Frisbees. Shouts and laughter echoed through the park, along with barks and playful howls from the wolves. I was surprised to see wolf and human so at ease amongst each other after my recent experiences, but it all helped me relax and feel a little bit less alone.

  I stretched out under a leafy tree and stared up through the branches at the cloudless sky. The sounds of the park washed over me and my wolf stirred, interested in the fresh scents and the presence of so many other wolves. I hadn’t seen this many wolves all in one place since we arrived in Paris, and the earthy smell of Pack was a comfort I hadn’t realized I’d needed. Funny how one smell could mean home and safety and another terror and danger.

  Did the creature know the effect its scent had on us? Maybe it relied on it—a weapon against the strength of a wolf. It hadn’t been afraid of me after all, assuming it knew what I was. It had attacked like I was nothing, no threat to it at all. I rubbed my neck absently, trying to piece together what I knew to make sense of it all.

  A creature that fed on blood, hunted by night and was strong enough and fast enough to take out a werewolf. An apex predator that had managed to stay hidden from wolves and humans for...well, who knew how long? Hundreds of years? Thousands, maybe? There couldn’t be many of them, I guessed, or time and technology would have forced them into the open as it had us wolves. I’d never heard of killings like these before, or least not that I could remember. If they did happen, I thought, maybe they were blamed on wolves, leaving the real killer free and safe.

  After all, who believed in vampires, really?

  After a while, lulled by the whisper of the wind in the trees and the comforting sounds and smells of wolves around me, I drifted off.

  I dreamed about fire and blood. I was running through the streets of Paris screaming for Shannon and couldn’t find her. In the dream, everything burned. The buildings and cobbles, the people and animals, all blazed, tossing flames at me from every direction. I shifted shape and raced through the smoke as a wolf, trying to pick Shannon’s scent out from the burning wood and metallic tang of hot blood. I couldn’t find her and it was getting so hot, my fur singing, my eyes stinging. I had to get out, had to escape the inferno, but I couldn’t leave Shannon...

  I woke up with sweat dripping down my face and my heart pounding. I’d rolled onto my side, twisting and turning as I dreamed, and grass blades tickled my nose. My burns itched fiercely and for a second I couldn’t figure out where I was. I lifted my head, half expecting to see orange and blue flames spitting around me.

  But I was still in the park, surrounded by flowers and trees and my heart slowed in relief. The sun was setting, faint rays of pale yellow blurring across the sky. The park was still busy, but everyone was lethargic now. Couples lay together, limbs tangled. Children napped in their parents’ laps and panting dogs sprawled at their owners’ feet. Everything felt lazy and calm, a world away from the chaos and violence of my dream.

  I sat up, wiped the sweat from my face, and checked my watch. Shit. Six-thirty. How had I slept so long? I leapt up, heart racing again at the thought I’d miss Shannon’s visiting hour. What if she woke up and I wasn’t there?

  I raced for the nearest Metro stop, ignoring the twinges of pain in my legs as I did. Through the park, past the dogs and kids, onto the road, where I dodged the traffic, narrowly missing being hit by a moped. I shoved through the crowds pouring down the steps to the Metro platform, desperate to get ahead of them and onto the train. A few people cursed or elbowed me. Pelting across the platform, I leapt through closing doors onto the train. Stumbling, I bumped into a young man. He snapped at me, smoothed his hair and then turned his back on me. I flipped my finger at his back, feeling childish, but too tense to care. Images from my nightmare swam in my head as I clung to the pole in the middle of the carriage. I couldn’t shake the feeling that it meant something. That I had to get to Shannon as soon as I could.

  I made it to Hôtel-Dieu de Paris at quarter to seven, gasping for breath, red in the face, and frantic to see Shannon. The good news was she’d been moved from intensive care into a general ward. The nurse ushered me through with a sympathetic smile. The ward was crowded, families clustered round beds and milling in the doorway. I slipped through, homing in on Shann
on’s bed. Please let her be awake. She had to be, I had to talk to her, hold her, hear her voice.

  My heart, already working overtime from my race here, flipped and fluttered when I saw her sitting up in her bed. I dashed across the remaining distance between us, resisting the urge to fling myself at her. “Shannon! God, let me look at you.” I clasped her outstretched hand, tears filling my eyes at the sight of her pale, smiling face.

  “Miss me?” she asked throatily.

  I crouched at the bedside, clinging to her. She looked so fragile, tired and small. Her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow in a rough tangle and the cuts and bruises on her face and arms looked ugly and vicious. I ran a finger gently down one long scrape with a fresh rush of loathing for the creature that had put her here.

  “How are you?” I asked, nuzzling her palm.

  “Sleepy,” she replied with a rueful smile. “And sore. But okay. The doctor said I can probably go home in the morning, if I get through the night without any problems.”