The Hunt (The Wilds Book Two)

by Donna Augustine

  The Hunt

  The Wilds Book Two

  Donna Augustine

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Copyright © 2015 by Donna Augustine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For my sister Lisa

  Chapter 1

  If anybody walked onto this land right now, and saw me, a young woman with a head full of crazy red hair digging in the dirt of the garden, they probably wouldn’t look twice. With a large yellow farmhouse at my back and little cottages nestled about the land surrounding it, I must have seemed like an average farm girl. They’d be mighty wrong.

  I’m a Plaguer, one who’s survived the Bloody Death, which, by the way, wiped out most of the human race. Yeah, it was quite an accomplishment by the ripe old age of four. After you do something big like that, a person might expect some major accomplishments by the time they hit eighteen. Who knew that not dying from the nastiest disease ever known to man would be the highlight of my life so far?

  As far as highlights go, being a Plaguer sounded a lot more badass than it actually turned out to be. In fact, it was something best left hidden, like having a permanent case of the cooties. People tended to view me like I was still contagious and carried the disease around in my back pocket or something, ready to whip it out at any moment. Some thought merely laying eyes on me was going to strike them down dead. Others tried to avoid airspace—which always made me want to break out into a coughing fit for some crazy reason.

  I wasn’t sick, though. The only thing I’d been was a survivor, and if being a survivor was a bad thing, then I was the worst around. I’d scraped and clawed my way out of a lot of ugly situations and had no plans on quitting. Being able to read people’s worst memories helped out a bit. That was one of the perks of being a Plaguer. Seeing the scars of someone’s mind, what bothered them the most, really let me know what made them tick. Time and again, it had helped steer me toward people I could trust.

  Most people had heard rumors of what Plaguers could do. The idea of someone seeing in your head, well, let’s just say it doesn’t encourage friendships. Between surviving the Bloody Death and the visions, I guess it’s not a huge shock I ended up in the Cement Giant, the asylum that the country of Newco used to hide all its unwanted.

  That day Dax showed up and offered me a way out, I’d grabbed it with both hands. I didn’t know him but I took a gamble that anywhere else was going to be better than where I was.

  That was how I ended up here, in the Wilds. The Wilds was exactly what I’d expected—absolute freedom if you were strong enough to take it. No government, no laws, no rules; it was a place custom-made for the strong and the brave—the survivors. It was perfect for me.

  There was only one problem: people in the Wilds were just as scared of Plaguers as the people of Newco, and everyone around here already knew what I was. Hell, I’d worn a badge, a brand burned onto the top of my hand, compliments of the Cement Giant, broadcasting the fact that I was a Plaguer. I’d finally fixed that by skimming a couple layers of flesh off. My hand might have more scars, but it was still a big improvement.

  As crazy and riveting as Plaguers and the Wilds might sound, I haven’t even gotten to the juiciest part of the story so far. What was more interesting than surviving the plague that killed almost everyone and left you with some nifty visions? I’ll tell you what. Being able to grow a couple of feet taller, sprout a scary set of fangs and a unknown amount of muscle covered in fur, and do it all on a moment’s whim.

  Yeah, that’s right—for the first eighteen years of my life, I’d walked this Earth thinking I was keeping all the secrets and that I was the freak of nature. This misbelief of mine was fed by the fact that everyone else was under the same assumption, right along with me. Turned out we’d all been fooled. There was something a lot scarier than me, and he was hanging out right underneath our noses.

  It’s one of those discoveries that once you found out, it gets stuck in your head. As far as the rest of the world knew, I was still the biggest freak. What they didn’t know, and I didn’t either until a month ago, was that Dax, the guy who’d rescued my ass from the Cement Giant not once but twice, turned out to be not so much a man as a whole lotta beast. Yeah, exactly like the beasts everybody was terrified by, the kind that roamed the forests at night and left an occasional carcass lying around as a reminder of what they could do. This was where the aforementioned fur and fangs came into play, and they’re real doozies. Those fangs make the pictures of jaguars I’d seen in books look like cute little kittens. People hide behind their locked doors after sundown from these creatures.

  Not that anyone would have a clue if you saw Dax now, in his dark pants and shirt, his sleeves rolled up, talking to the crew who patrolled the perimeter of the grounds. All you saw was a human male, tannish skin and dark hair. It wasn’t like he had tufts of fur poking out here and there to hint at the truth. The huge fangs were straight white teeth and his eyes weren’t glowing red like they had that day in the forest, but were somewhere in between the color of storm clouds and glacier blue.

  Yeah, maybe he was tough. Surely the toughest man I’d ever met, and that made people tread carefully in his presence, but that was far from being a beast of the Wilds. Dax inspired respect from those around him, but it was because most people knew he was smarter than them. If they were too stupid to realize that, then they respected him because they knew he could kick their ass. Nobody knew the beast was lingering right there, under the surface, waiting to pick its teeth with their leg bone if they stepped out of line.

  If they did step out of line, he’d know. I was convinced he had some superior awareness of everything around him, whether he admitted it or not. As if to prove my point, his gaze swung in my direction, as if he knew what I was thinking or had sensed me watching him. A slight charge shot through me, and I looked back down at the dirt and weeds, but the feeling didn’t go away until he switched his attention back to his crew.

  Couldn’t help but want to giggle a bit at that too. The same crew that Dax was standing right beside at this very moment, the ones who were in charge of making sure nothing scary like a beast got in, had no clue that the scariest thing out there was already in here. If they had any idea, they’d surely pee their pants. I couldn’t blame them for not knowing. I hadn’t. But it was the truth. Dax was a beast, and maybe the only one alive that could shift back to human form. It still stunned me, even now.

  I remembered the day I’d found out a month ago, as if it had just happened and I was back in the forest. I’d bee
n standing there with Dax and then he’d become the beast, and I’d become completely wordless. Even all fangs and claws as he’d been, I should’ve said or asked something. Instead, I’d stood mute and stared. I tried not to beat myself up too bad about that lapse. At least I hadn’t run screaming from him. He’d been only a foot from me and I’d held my ground. Then he’d left.

  Now, a logical person would think that this sort of man-turning-to-beast behavior would warrant some type of conversation between us. You know, a Hey, what’s with all the fur and you’ve got mighty big teeth kind of chat, or something else equally informative. Nope. Not on this side of the illogical divide, it didn’t. He’d been a man, then wham, he’d been a beast. Next time I saw him, he was a man again, and somehow I wasn’t supposed to talk about it. I never imagined we’d not speak of it at some point or that it would have to go onto my ever-growing list of secrets I couldn’t share with anyone.

  Someone might assume from my past that I would be good at keeping secrets. They’d be correct on that score. I’m a superhero at it, and this situation was no different. I didn’t dare say anything to anyone about Dax, but this secret was sorely testing my abilities. Maybe if he’d talk about it a bit, I could get past the whole amazement of the man/beast aspect, but he wasn’t much for chatting—like, as in ever—and definitely not about this subject, as would soon be demonstrated by yet another attempt on my part.

  I saw my opening as he walked away from the guards and made the mistake of getting too close to me. It was a mistake he’d been making less and less lately. Stabbing my shovel into the rich dirt, I abandoned the vegetables in the garden to fend for themselves against the weeds and fell into step beside him.

  It was always a double-edged sword being near Dax. My pulse didn’t just amp up from the exertion of keeping up with him as it did from just being near him. Close quarters with Dax made me feel more alive or something, as if his vitality infected my own. I’d wondered in the dark of night if it was the magic of the beast I sensed, but the air even seemed to smell different around him, like a storm was about to hit.

  On the other hand, I wasn’t sure he even noticed me sometimes. Like now, he walked without talking or even the slightest turn of the head in my direction to acknowledge my presence. It was crazy how a month ago the beast had been licking me—and not in the biting through bone and gristle type of way, but like I was a favorite chew toy—and then changed to this man who barely spoke to me.

  He finally did something to mark my presence. He didn’t look at me, but offered up a nice nonverbal message. The eyes rolling skyward were loud and clear, and made me wish for the moments he didn’t communicate in any form, which was the other half of the time. That’s what Dax was best at: letting you know exactly what he was thinking without expending the energy to bother speaking to you.

  This brought us to what I considered my strongest trait, besides being a master of secrets. Tenacity. Did I mention yet that I was about as far from a quitter as you got? I hated everything that went along with that word. If it were up to me, the word “quit” would be struck completely from the human language. I’d had one personal lapse on the record about a month ago, and it had made me even firmer in my conviction that I would never slip again.

  Dax’s pace picked up, and I pumped my legs quicker to match his longer stride. “So, are we ever going to talk about…you know…the thing?” I didn’t mention the word beast, ever. I thought it might make him more likely to talk about it if I didn’t call him names.

  He stopped suddenly, and my heartbeat grew a little quicker with hopes that this was the day he would divulge all his beastly secrets. Where did all the fur go? What happened to the fangs when he wasn’t a beast? Did he eat—

  No. I definitely shouldn’t follow that train of thought. Some stuff is better off left unasked.

  “You really can’t take a hint,” he said.

  Thwarted again. Looked like I wasn’t going to get any of those questions answered. He’d dashed my hopes to shreds with one imaginary swipe from his hidden claws. I did mention the claws, right? They were quite impressive. Almost as cool as the fangs.

  “I just think we should have a chat about things. It would be good for you to talk. Get stuff off your chest.” Especially the secret furry one. I still remembered reaching my fingers out and touching him there right before he’d left without a word.

  I’d stood in the forest for hours afterward, waiting for him to come back. He hadn’t. When I’d finally walked back to the house by myself, I’d felt the strangest disappointment, as if we’d shared something special and then he’d changed his mind about it and abandoned me.

  That night, I’d sat there at dinner with a plate piled high with Fudge’s meatloaf, a chair over from him. We’d eaten, surrounded by everyone else, and acted like nothing had happened. As if everything was the same and he didn’t have the biggest secret known to mankind. I think we’d discussed the weather, if I remembered correctly.

  I’d finished dinner and gone upstairs afterward and unpacked the bag I had ready, knowing I couldn’t budge from this place now, not knowing what I knew. I had way too many questions. Plus there was his promise that he was going to help me become someone special. If there was one thing I wanted in the world, that was it. To be strong, special, be someone who didn’t need anyone to protect them.

  I’d gone to bed that night figuring we’d talk tomorrow. We hadn’t. Then I’d assumed we would talk the day after. Hadn’t happened. Somehow, a month slipped by quicker than I could polish off a plate of Fudge’s brownies. Time was funny like that. If you didn’t keep track of it, make the most of every moment, it could run away from you.

  He leaned forward with that look on his face, and I should’ve known I wasn’t going to like what was coming next. It was the so, you think you want to play ball look, and it never preceded anything good.

  “You want to talk? Maybe we should have a sit-down. We can both lay all our secrets out on the table, make a whole day of it?” he asked, meeting my expectations.

  Low blow, man. I held the words back, but they made my mouth twitch to the side for the effort. It was true; I didn’t like to talk about certain things, and I’d thought he was cool with that. I didn’t exactly have a past I liked to reminisce over. It wasn’t filled with laughter and funny stories. Ninety percent of my life before now was stuff I’d rather forget and people I hoped were dead. Wow, even in my head that didn’t sound so good.

  Either way, he was missing the point. I didn’t want to talk about my secrets. I wanted him to tell me all of his and call it a day. Why did people have to be so damn difficult all the time?

  But yeah, I got the point. He wasn’t going to talk about it. He’d shown me his secret. He’d let me as far into the loop as he was going to for now, and I could take it or leave it. No one forced me to stay if I didn’t like the terms, as I’d been reminded of more than a few times. I couldn’t leave here, though. He still had promises to live up to.

  “Fine. I give up. I won’t bug you anymore about—”

  He started walking off as if we were finished.

  I chased after him and then blocked his path, prepared to lurch to the left or right if he tried to escape. “But you did promise to train me. It’s been a month.” I had him now. Dax wasn’t the type to renege on a promise. When I’d first met him, he’d acted like he didn’t have a code he lived by, but everyone did. Some people didn’t know they had one, but every action they took defined it.

  He nodded, acknowledging his lapse and leaving me no clue to whether he might feel the tiniest bit bad about letting me down. “I’ve had some business, but we’ll start soon.”

  Beast, human, whatever he was, I needed his help or I needed to make other plans. He needed to understand that an ambiguous “soon” wasn’t cutting it anymore. “Do you realize I’m still hunted by the Dark Walkers? They aren’t taking a holiday because you have business. I don’t have soon. I have now.”

  It was true. The Cement
Giant might have been blown to bits, but there were more of those Dark Walkers, monsters masquerading as humans, out there, and they wanted me for no fathomable reason I could think of. Of course, I wasn’t intimately acquainted with the thoughts of creatures that looked like they were covered by a dark fog all the sunny day long.

  “I’m fully aware.” He nodded like he was really hearing what I was saying. Then he blew it by repeating, “We’ll start soon.”

  He walked away, and I didn’t lurch to the right like I’d thought I would. I remained standing exactly where I was, watching as he headed toward the gate.

  “I don’t have soon,” I said, but he was already ten feet away and I was standing by myself. What I wanted to scream was What business do you have that is so much more important than me? But I didn’t. He wouldn’t have told me anyway. What I really wanted to know most, but would never ask, was What changed in the forest that day you were the beast that now you avoid me?

  I’d expected camaraderie after sharing something like that. That his secret was going to give us some sort of connection, especially a secret of that magnitude. That me being one of the few people who knew he was a beast would make us closer. It didn’t. Then I’d thought, at the least we’d be allies if nothing else. I wasn’t so confident about that anymore either.

  At this point, I didn’t know what we were, but we certainly were not friends.

  Chapter 2

  My hands hit the dirt in the garden again, but I couldn’t stop looking toward the gate he’d left out of a couple of hours ago. I knew Dax was avoiding me, but maybe he really did have things to handle. I had a funny feeling that being a beast was only the tip of his iceberg of secrets, the other eighty percent still hidden from view.

  A little hand patted my shoulder and I looked up into Tiffy’s cherubic face. She looked like the picture of innocence, as long as you didn’t look too closely at her eyes, which held way too much wisdom for someone so young.