Dark Hunt

by Naomi Clark

  I wasn’t impressed. I’ve seen Tham with a hangover. Now that’s scary.

  “By the authority invested in me by the Division of Preternatural Control, I order you to back the fuck up,” I told her, brandishing the UV gun. “Give up your maker and you won’t be harmed.” Lies, of course. I had to take her out before she started her own killing spree, but she didn’t need to know that, right?

  She laughed, an edge of madness in it. A sound that told me she’d looked into the abyss for sure and that something had definitely looked back. “You think I’m stupid? You think I’m just going to hand myself over?”

  “You will if you’re smart,” I replied. “But I’m guessing you’re not that smart.”

  “Smart enough not to fall for the whole ‘no harm will come to you,’ routine,” she spat. She tensed, preparing to lunge at me.

  I snapped on the UV gun. In the heavy shadows of the shed, the white light was utterly blinding, like fire from heaven. Kimberley shrieked and dropped to her knees, clutching at her head. I reached for my stake, ready to finish the job.

  That’s when the second vampire hit me from behind.

  He sent me flying and I dropped the UV gun. The light stayed on, but the second vamp kicked it out the door before I could grab it. Then he was on me again, pinning me to the ground. Fuck, these bloodsuckers were fast! We grappled for a second, each trying to get the advantage, but we were pretty evenly matched in strength. At least Kimberley would be out of action for a little longer. I had to buy Finch some chocolates or something.

  After a bout of futile wrestling, the vamp stopped struggling with me abruptly, pulling back a little and giving me a clear view of his face as he studied mine.

  Holy shit, he was hot.

  It was a totally inappropriate thought, but damn, you had to see him. A face like an angel and eyes like all the temptations of hell. Golden hair fell across those eyes, shining even in the darkness. My heartbeat skipped and I’m not ashamed to admit I had a couple of wicked thoughts in the split second before he snarled, “Katrina Pagan. I knew it.”

  “Have we met?” I still had my stake in my belt, along with my holy water. I couldn’t really get to the water pinned like this, but with a little luck I might reach the stake. I inched my hand slowly down towards my belt.

  “Your reputation precedes you, wolf,” he said, in a velvety voice to rival Tham at his best. “Perhaps I should be honored they sent such a fierce killer for one lowly vampire.”

  “Two lowly vampires,” I corrected, jerking my head towards Kimberley, who was rolling around in agony a few feet away, clawing at her eyes. “Did you get lonely, vamp? Just needed a little female company? How sweet.”

  He hit me and stars flashed before my eyes. I snarled, my inner wolf surging forward so my hands became claws and I hit back, raking my claws down his face. He hissed in pain and leapt off me, back to his feet and in a fighting stance. I scrambled up too, stake in hand now.

  “Wolves,” he said. “You’re all so fucking smug and superior, you shapeshifters. You’re no better than us. Worse, really. You’re just animals pretending to be men.”

  “Better than corpses pretending to be men,” I shot back. We circled each other warily. The scent of his blood, coppery and rich, excited the wolf. I forced my hands back to human—better if I got a chance to go for the UV gun.

  “But we were men, once,” he said, smiling a smile so beautiful it was almost painful. “You never were. Shapeshifters have always been freaks. Mistakes of nature.”

  I growled, anger rising in me. “Come closer and say that, leech.”

  He feinted at me. I wasted a second reacting and in that second Kimberley pounced on me. She wasn’t very strong, but she caught me off-guard. I staggered as she thumped at me, shrieking madly. I swung at her with the stake, instinct taking over, and jammed it between her ribs. It was a death blow. She fell back, surprise clear on her pretty face even in the dark. Blood welled at her lips as she collapsed, pawing uselessly at the stake. It took her five seconds to die. I counted.

  Her maker swore viciously. “Killing children, Katrina? Is that how you get your kicks?”

  I swung back to him, braced for an attack. “I kill monsters.”

  “You’re one of the monsters. In a different world, you’d be the one hiding in stinking cattle sheds, hunted down and slaughtered by fucking humans, not us!”

  “Maybe.” I grabbed a vial of holy water. “But this isn’t a different world.” I flung it.

  The vial shattered on impact, like it was designed to, and the vampire screamed as the water hit him. His angelic face burned up like I’d flung acid at him. He fell to his knees, his agony palpable. I needed to finish him now, whilst he was incapacitated, but if I yanked the stake from Kimberley it was possible that she might start to heal. Shit! Why didn’t I bring two stakes?

  The only other option was to rip his heart out with my bare hands and my wolf just loved that idea. I let my hands shift back to claws, flexing them with feral delight at the idea of finishing this vampire the old-fashioned way. I grabbed a handful of his silky hair, jerking him upright. The smell of sizzling flesh hit me hard, whetting my appetite further. Hell no, it’s not pretty or ladylike, but I never claimed to be a lady.

  He glowered at me, eyes brimming with poisonous hatred. “You can kill me, Katrina Pagan, but I’m just one vampire. There are countless more. And our numbers are growing all the time. You’ll never be safe in the shadows.”

  I smiled and plunged my clawed hand into his chest, ripping his sluggish heart free with a crack of ribs and a spatter of dark blood. I released him and he slumped to the floor next to Kimberley, gasping his last breaths in anguish. “One down,” I said.

  A Wolf in Girl’s Clothing

  It was a cool spring evening, the sky dusky blue and orange, and the line outside the Glitz nightclub already stretched to the end of the street. It was a mixed crowd, from teenagers who’d probably be denied access unless their fake IDs were very good, to adults who surely could afford to spend their time and money somewhere less tacky. The outfits ranged from ridiculous—one group of men all dressed in afro wigs and tie-dyed jump suits—to a little scary—two girls in full bondage gear, complete with spike heels, collars and leather bras. From inside my car, with the windows rolled up, I could still hear the shimmery, bass-heavy music pouring from the doorway and I was parked right across the street. Up close, it was surely too loud to enjoy.

  Luckily for me, I wasn’t there to enjoy it. I was being paid to stake out Newcastle’s tackiest nightclub. This, I’d learned through a week of meticulous investigation, was where Toby Miller spent his Saturday nights. With a woman who was most definitely not his wife of one year.

  I sipped at my latte and flipped once more through the photos sitting on the passenger seat. Toby and his wife, Manda, made a striking couple, both tall and dark-haired with olive skin. She was model-beautiful, he was almost effeminately handsome. They’d have gorgeous children, should they have any. Looking at Manda, recalling her soft voice and sweet manners, it was hard to imagine Toby would play away from home, but as a PI I saw men cheat all the time. Women too, on partners who adored them, were clever, wealthy, attractive and seemingly perfect. There was no fathoming the human heart, I’d concluded. Or the werewolf one, for that matter.

  I set the photos down and turned my attention back to the queue outside Glitz. Toby was tall, well over six feet, and with his dark good looks, he ought to stand out in the crowd. The bouncer I’d spoken to earlier in the week told me Toby always showed up around eleven, once the first rush of customers had arrived, always with the same girl. It was only nine o’clock now, but I never took chances on people. People change their routines, they make new plans. And people who might suspect their wives of hiring a private eye to follow them around... Well, I was confident Toby didn’t suspect anything, but again, I never took the chance. I would sit outside Glitz until closing if that’s how long it took.

  It took another
two hours, by which time my latte had gone cold and I was stiff and a little bored. It was a relief when Toby rounded the corner, arm-in-arm with a short woman. Even if I didn’t have his photos, Toby would have stood out to me in the Glitz crowd for not standing out. No glitter or fairy wings or neon plastic for him. He wore faded black jeans and a navy blue t-shirt with some band’s logo on it. His companion was almost as conservative, dressed in ripped jeans and a blood-red tank top. Her black hair was short, spiky and streaked with hot pink. I considered her carefully. She was pretty, in a sort of waifish way, but not a patch on Toby’s wife. If he was having an affair, he’d traded down.

  I watched them queue, snapping pictures as they huddled together, so very comfortable with each other. Their body language was relaxed, close. The girl being so much shorter than Toby, she had to crane her neck up to speak to him. There was warm affection on her face when they did talk, but it wasn’t romantic. No hand-holding or kissing, no lingering gazes or subtle caresses. Perhaps they were just cautious—the odds of bumping into someone else you knew in Newcastle on a Saturday were pretty high.

  After about twenty minutes of queuing, they slipped inside. I hurriedly grabbed my handbag, shoving my camera inside, and got out of the car. The queue had died down considerably since Toby and his companion joined it, so I was inside Glitz within ten minutes, having paid a ridiculous amount of money for the privilege. Thank God Manda was covering my expenses. I handed my coat in at the cloakroom, feeling a little awkward in the sequined sea-blue dress I wore underneath. I wasn’t usually one for spangle, but I wanted to blend in, so I’d teamed the dress with towering turquoise heels and shimmery green eye shadow, my hair pinned up in a silly, fussy do.

  Compared to the majority of the clubbers, I looked pretty conservative, but I felt fake and obvious.

  I wove my way through the crowd, gritting my teeth at the awful music. I wanted a drink. I imagined the music would be a lot more tolerable filtered through a couple of overpriced rum and cokes, but drinking on the job was a recipe for disaster. I settled for an overpriced bottle of water and went hunting for Toby and his friend.

  The plan for tonight was simply to observe. Manda wanted evidence Toby was cheating—or, more accurately, she was desperate for proof he wasn’t—and this was my best chance to get that evidence. Toby was a careful man, Manda told me, private and cautious, so I didn’t think I was likely to catch him making out with this girl on the dance floor, but people gave things away all the time without ever realizing. If he felt relaxed and safe here, he’d let his guard down and then I might see those tell-tale touches and kisses that would confirm Manda’s fears. For her sake, I hoped I didn’t.

  Glitz’s dance floor was a huge square painted with neon swirls and ultra-violent patterns that dazzled the eyes and flashed painfully under the strobe lights. Low plastic-covered sofas sat around the edge and I perched on one of these, grimacing as my bare legs touched something slick and sticky. I hoped it was just a spilled drink.

  A metre or so away from me, amidst a knot of girls in fairy wings and tutus, Toby and his friend danced gleefully, clearly immune to the awful, repetitive bass thud of the music. Or even actually enjoying it. They did hold hands now, swinging each other around, occasionally hooking up with one of the fairies in a sort of improvised jig before returning to each other. Under the flashing pink and green lights, the girl looked oddly magical, her face alight with joy. I wondered idly if she was a wolf—they always seemed more energetic and vigorous to me, as if the wild animal inside was always just on the verge of breaking free.

  Toby himself did not look cautious or careful as he danced. He looked liberated, throwing himself around without a care for how ridiculous he looked. According to Manda’s tearful recollections, he’d barely danced with her at their wedding, telling her he felt silly in front of their families. The man I watched now didn’t care about feeling silly.

  But he wasn’t acting like a cheat, either. For all their touchy-feely dancing, there was still no sexual spark between him and the girl. They were both drinking; him knocking back alcopops, her on the beers. If they were having an affair, I’d expect the alcohol to lower their inhibitions, turn their touches hot and sensual. But after half an hour and six drinks apiece, it was pretty clear they weren’t about to start groping each other. I wasn’t ready to write off the affair theory, but I’d seen nothing to prove it yet either.

  “Alright, doll.” A shirtless man thumped down next to me, grinning widely at me. “You here alone?”

  “Yes.” I shifted away from him. He stank of cigarette and beer. Even if I’d been into men, he wouldn’t be my type. I could never kiss a smoker.

  “Well that’s no good!” he cried, shuffling closer to me. “Why’s a pretty girl like you here alone? Come for a dance.” He grabbed my hand. I shook him off.

  “No, thanks. I’m busy.” I debated flashing my PI’s licence, but the last time I did that in a night club, the idiot I showed it to thought I was part of some police drug raid, freaked out and tried to assault me. I could live without a repeat of that. “I’m waiting for someone,” I said instead when he started to protest my refusal.

  He pouted at me, as if this was somehow attractive. “Well if they stand you up, you come look for me, alright, doll?”

  I smiled as politely as I could and he left. Always a relief when they got the message. I glanced back to the dance floor and saw to my dismay that Toby and his friend were gone. “Shit,” I muttered, hurrying over to the fairies. “Hey!” I caught one by the shoulder. She spun around to hug me, coating me in glitter. “Excuse me,” I said, disentangling myself, “where did the tall guy and the girl go?”

  She frowned at me blearily. “You mean Ayla? She went to the ladies’ room.”

  Toby was unlikely to be with her, but this might be an opportunity anyway. I made my way to the toilets, fending off a few more invitations to dance on the way. I wondered if wearing my ‘No Boys Allowed’ t-shirt would have been a better choice.

  The ladies’ room was humid and dimly lit and full of girls re-doing their makeup and sharing gossip and in one case throwing up in a sink. The girl I wanted leaned against the wall nearby, wrinkling her nose as if disgusted. I guessed she was queuing for the toilet since she didn’t strike me as the type to care if her eyeliner was smudged. I joined her, trying not to stare at the puking girl. I felt like I ought to hold her hair out of her face or something, since nobody else was, but I didn’t want to lose my quarry.

  Up close, Toby’s friend was younger than I’d realized—early twenties at the most—and much prettier than I’d initially thought. She smelled like apples, sweet and sharp. I didn’t realize how close I’d got, or even that I was practically sniffing her hair, until she turned her head suddenly, meeting my eyes with a surprisingly fierce gaze.

  “What?” she demanded.

  I stepped back, heart in my throat, caught off-guard. “Sorry, I just...” I fixed a big, fake smile on. “I’m a bit drunk.” I managed an impressively drunk-sounding giggle. “You smell really nice!”

  She eyed me suspiciously, but a little of the fierceness faded. “I haven’t seen you here before,” she said. “First time?”

  I nodded, keeping the bright smile in place. “Thought I’d check out the talent in a new part of town.” I leaned into her, lowering my voice confidentially. “That tall lad you were dancing with...he’s fit! He’s not your boyfriend, is he?”

  She cocked her head, regarding me with a curious smile. And then, before I had time to react, she pinned me against the wall. I squeaked a protest but she ignored me, as did everyone else. She caught my hands gently but firmly, strong enough that I couldn’t wriggle free. She leaned into me now, pressing her body against mine in a parody of passion, as if she might kiss me...

  ...but she didn’t. She pressed her lips to my ear and whispered, “You don’t smell drunk.”

  I flushed, realizing a little too late I’d been right—she was a wolf and so of course her sense
s were far sharper than mine. Sharp enough to know I’d touched nothing but water all night.

  “What do you want with Toby?” she demanded. There was a snarl in her voice but she didn’t bare her teeth. That was a good sign—it meant she didn’t plan on ripping my throat out just yet. She was trying to scare me, but didn’t want to hurt me.

  I’d taken a course on lupine-human relations as part of my PI training. It hadn’t been mandatory, but I was convinced it should be. Knowing the other woman’s show of wolfish aggression was just that—a show—was all that kept me from slinking away with my own metaphorical tail between my legs. She was intimidating, for all her small size, her pixie face tight with suspicion, her eyes alight with anger. The soft little growl rumbling in her throat was so inhuman. It flicked some switch in my brain, the part that was programmed for fight or flight. I needed to diffuse the situation before she really did lose her temper.