The Hunt (The Wilds Book Two)

by Donna Augustine

  They’d had everything back then and hadn’t even appreciated it. Now it was gone. Only pockets of places like this left to remind people. Even here it wasn’t really the same. I’d seen the watch posted just inside the gate, the guy with a gun in the tower. I was damned sure that any fish caught in this lake wouldn’t be tossed back in. “Friggin’ Glory Years.”

  “Bitter much?” Dax asked me.

  Thinking about how it used to be, I nodded. “Yes. I am, thank you.”

  “At least you’re not in denial.”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing. Denial’s got some serious positives. I’ve seen it in action. I’d love to jump on that happy train. Looks like bliss to me.”

  He shot me a look that said but then you’d probably be dead. He was right. You couldn’t make it in the Wilds if you weren’t one hundred percent aware one hundred percent of the time, but it was nice to dream.

  His eyebrow popped up and I couldn’t let the unwarranted look go. “Stop with the face. You know I was mostly kidding.”

  The corner of his lip ticked up. It made me want to smile in return. I liked when I busted through his wall a little, and not just when I was making him go nuts and his temper finally got the best of him. There was a sense of humor under there, buried deep beneath the frost.

  “Come on,” he said, leaving the bike in front of the building and walking down toward the lake.

  It was obvious by the stares we got from the locals that they didn’t see many outsiders. It was the same back at Dax’s. If you wanted to survive in this world, you kept it close and tight, only people you trusted around. I respected it.

  We stopped on the rocky bank of the lake and he gave me the look, like the ones he’d given me in hole after hole when I’d first started IDing Dark Walkers for him.

  I looked about the place some more, making sure I didn’t miss anyone milling about. At its heart, the place wasn’t that much different than our own, a farm area, some animals grazing a bit farther off on cleared land, people going about their day. Nothing shocking.

  I knew he was waiting for an answer, and the idea of lying crossed my mind. What if I said the place was crawling with Dark Walkers? But then I’d have to ID some people, and I knew what would happen then. Plus, the bigger problem with that was I wasn’t a good liar—not good enough to get past Dax, anyway. But I could withhold information with the best of them.

  Lying was a whole other ball of wax. The only time I used to be able to lie was to Ms. Edith, and that was only because I gave her exactly what she wanted to hear. People like that are easy to lie to. That lunatic only wanted bullshit most of the time. That would never fly with Dax.

  “From what I can see, the place is clean.”

  A group of young girls I’d checked out walked closer, eyeing up Dax and giggling. Dumb idiots. They were too young and innocent to handle what he had going on.

  Dax shot me a look.

  I shook my head, letting him know they were human.

  “Then what?” he asked.

  Sometimes it was aggravating how much he noticed. What did I do? Squint a fraction of an inch too much? “They’re fine, besides being young and stupid.”

  He full-on laughed at that.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “They’re your age.”

  I watched the group of them head down the street, seeming so impossibly young even though they probably were around eighteen, give or take a couple of years. They walked as if they were oblivious to their surroundings and nothing could touch them. They’d probably lived their whole lives in this place, behind these walls, protected, ignorant of what it was like in the real world, what people were capable of doing to each other.

  “You’re wrong. I was never that young.”

  “Be glad of it.”

  “Trust me, I am.”

  He took a step forward and said, “Come on. There’s someone we need to see.”

  I followed him back toward the brick building and the heart of the community. When I stepped in the place, it felt like I was walking into a different era. There were all these pieces of furniture, tables and bookcases, that looked like they had a wood pattern but weren’t really wood. We passed into an area that looked like some kind of waiting room, with a couple of people sitting on benches across from a door to the interior.

  Dax’s knuckles hit the door and then immediately proceeded to the knob instead of waiting for a reply.

  A man with dark auburn hair and broad shoulders looked up from where he sat behind a real wooden desk. I caught a glimpse of annoyance before recognition lit his face and his expression turned warmer.

  “Rocky,” Dax said.

  Rock? Rocky? Looked like we’d found the owner of this place. Rocky was handsome and appeared a few years older than Dax was, or the age Dax looked—his true age was still up for debate, or would be once I found someone to debate it with. Rocky’s appearance wasn’t what struck me most about this man, or not his attractiveness, anyway. He looked as tough as the walls that surrounded this place, like he had been born weathering the storm.

  “Becca, we’ll continue this talk later,” Rocky said.

  I belatedly tore my eyes from the man behind the desk to see Becca sitting there on the other side. Her skin had a nice flush and her hair a healthy sheen—not that she hadn’t been pretty before, but this new home was definitely agreeing with her.

  She stood abruptly and nearly knocked over her chair. It might have helped if she was paying attention to what she was doing as opposed to staring at Dax.

  Was he shooting her the same intense look? Next they’d be asking me and Rocky to step out and give them some privacy. Not that I’d care. They could do whatever they wanted. I wasn’t jealous—but this was a work trip, and he shouldn’t be making eyes at some woman while we were on business, or he should’ve come alone.

  I turned to shoot him a look that told him he better cut it out, but I found an impartial expression there. His heart might have been pitter-pattering, or he might not have cared an ounce. There was no real way to tell.

  “Dax,” she finally said.

  He nodded.

  “Hi, Becca,” I offered.

  “Hi, Dal,” she replied, and finally pulled her eyes away from Dax, the longing turning into something…“less excited” would be the kindest term. That was when I realized her expression changed because it was me and Dax here, together—alone. I knew what she was thinking, could feel the hurt. That was when my emotions shifted from annoyance with Dax to pity for her.

  I hated pity. I didn’t like the word or the condescending nature of the emotion. There was nothing redeeming about it at all. None of that changed what I was feeling for her, and pity was the most accurate label.

  I wanted to tell her that Dax wasn’t with me, not like that, but I couldn’t. That would’ve turned a dollop of awkwardness into a pile of dung’s worth of the stuff.

  I watched as her shoulders stiffened into an upright position, even as her eyes grew slightly watery. She moved past us, nearly tripping on a coat stand by the door this time, as her eyes kept shooting to him. The minute Becca cleared the door, Dax shut it behind her in a firm-ish manner that had me staring at it and then him. Had that been a goodbye, good riddance door shut or a hurts to look at you type?

  “Dax,” Rocky greeted him with his hand outstretched, and Dax gripped it firmly, drawing me back to the matter at hand and away from my internal debate of who cares, how much do they care, and why do I give a shit?

  Dax and Rocky weren’t tripping over themselves to hug each other, but I could tell they definitely liked one another in a you’re a guy like me and I get what makes you tick, so we can hang manly kind of way. I wondered, did this man really know what Dax was? Probably not, but you never knew.

  Rocky held out his hand to me, and I didn’t immediately pull mine out of my back pocket where I sometimes buried it. By the time I did, the moment had already turned awkward, or more awkward than shaking with a Plagu
er was to begin with.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Dal,” he said.

  He knew my name. The hint was obvious. He knew who I was. Or more importantly, what I was, a Plaguer, and he was okay with it.

  I whipped my hand out, trying to cover the lapse, and banged my knuckles into his accidentally.

  He grasped my palm like I was just some regular person. He acted like I hadn’t just looked like an idiot and shook my hand.

  “Quite a grip you’ve got,” he said, and I realized I’d overcompensated, and immediately loosened my grip.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  I squinted but resisted looking to my left.

  “Not from him, that’s for sure. Bookie stopped by here not long ago and couldn’t shut up about you.”

  I nodded, remembering Bookie had mentioned that he’d gone on an errand for Dax.

  Rocky motioned to the chairs behind us. Dax righted the one Becca had turned over and I grabbed the chair beside it and settled in. I took a moment to decide what I thought of Rocky. He seemed nice enough, but was he really?

  It suddenly hit me. Holy shit, I’d just shaken hands with the guy and hadn’t gotten a vision, not a whiff of a memory. How long had it been since I’d had one? I’d been around the same people at the farm for too long to judge. I’d gotten all of their bad memories out of the way, so there was no way to tell from them. Maybe it was a fluke? Perhaps it was just Rocky? I did get a blank sometimes. It wasn’t like it never happened.

  No, I hadn’t picked up anything from the guy opening the gate, even though we’d gotten pretty close to him. Nothing from the people we’d passed on our way in here either, even when the young girls had beelined it closer to Dax and come well within range. That was too many people coming up blank. Something was wrong. I forced my hands to relax on the arms of the chair once I noticed I was clenching and unclenching them into fists.

  I looked at Rocky while Dax and him talked, and realized with terror that I had no measure of this man. For the first time since I’d been four, I was left with nothing but my human senses to determine if he should be trusted. If Dax hadn’t vouched for him in his own way, I’d have no idea if he was the worst human being to walk this Earth or a saint. I gave up on trying to relax, gripped the wooden arms of the chair, and tried to squeeze every ounce of concentration I possessed to focus on him. Even as I could feel my skin grow moist from sweat, most likely from panic, I got nothing.

  Focus on the glow, the warmth. That was what I needed to do. Stir up the magic, the burning in my chest that would grow outward. Was it there? Barely. I could feel it warm slightly, but then it sputtered out.

  Dax nudged my foot with his, and I belatedly realized that Rocky was talking to me. I nodded and smiled, having no idea what he had said, hoping I’d given an appropriate reply.

  The confusion that flashed across Rocky’s face told me I hadn’t. Dax started speaking, drawing Rocky’s gaze, if not his full attention, back to himself.

  I tried to stay focused, to hear what they were saying, but my mind couldn’t stay put on them or even in this office. I needed to get to more people. I needed to know if everything had changed.

  A pit that had been growing in my stomach bloomed as I realized that whatever had woken me from sleep might not have been a bad dream. Something was wrong with me, and my body and mind had tried to warn me. If I’d lost my visions, maybe I’d lost everything? This place might be crawling with Dark Walkers and I wouldn’t know. I could be sitting across from one and trapped by walls.

  Dax stood, and I realized we were done here. He leaned over the desk to shake with Rocky. I stood too and made my goodbyes in a blur before I took the first chance I got to get out of there.

  I heard the door to Rocky’s office shut, knowing that he’d been watching me like I was some sort of absurdity, but I was unconcerned about anything other than whether I’d lost my abilities. Who cared about an invite to somewhere I didn’t want to be when my apple cart might have just been dumped over and my life turned upside down?

  I knew Dax was on my heels, but I didn’t stop and tell him what was happening. I didn’t care. All I cared about was getting a vision off somebody and proving I was okay.

  “What are you doing?” Dax asked as I veered off and stepped unnaturally close to the people sitting in the waiting room.

  They both leaned back, more shocked than aggressive, and I was moving on before it became an issue. I’d seen nothing from them.

  I ran outside, Dax on my heels as I found another woman and moved close enough that I should’ve picked up something. Again. Nothing. The woman walked quickly away from me and I remained still. That was five nothings in a row. One nothing wasn’t alarming. Two might have been a fluke. That was five. Five was a disaster.

  “What are you doing?” he repeated as he came to stand beside me. He had lost all patience by now, and I didn’t care. I had bigger problems. Technically, we had bigger problems.

  I turned and gripped his wrist. I never touched him willingly when not absolutely necessary, not since that disastrous night when I’d offered myself. He looked down at my hand and then back at my face, and I guessed he was aware of it too.

  I didn’t let go, gripping him tighter. “There’s something wrong with me.”

  “What?”

  “They’re gone. I’m not…”

  “What’s gone?” he asked.

  “My visions.” I grabbed his other wrist. “Maybe everything.”

  He grabbed my arm once he realized the scope of the problem and urged me toward the bike. We were in front of the large metal door a minute later, and it seemed even slower now.

  Finally, we weaved out the entrance and he pulled to a stop once we were a few miles away. I got off the bike as soon as he stopped, and circled around the area, trying to sort things out in my mind. First I couldn’t feel the magic in the office, or barely, and now the visions. This had to be connected somehow. What was wrong with me?

  He got off the bike and stood still, staring at my moving figure. “When was the last time you saw something?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been with the same people for a while. There hasn’t been anyone new to judge by.” When I’d first gotten these unique insights into people’s minds, I’d hated them. Ninety percent of the time they were traumatic, and I was thrust into the heart of a person’s worst fear, trauma, and/or humiliation that they’d ever experienced.

  I’d learned to live with them, though. Then I’d realized they were a gift. I’d relied on them so heavily for so long, and now they were gone. I could barely think past the possibility of it.

  “Get back on the bike,” he said.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To find out how deep this problem runs.”

  “Dark Walkers.” Of course that would be his first concern. I didn’t complain, as it was running in front of the pack of worries for me, too. It was going to be really hard to fight an enemy I couldn’t see coming.

  I didn’t ask any more questions as I hopped on the bike after him. We took off again and didn’t stop until we were parked outside a familiar hole. I remembered seeing this one on one of our longer trips. I couldn’t decide whether to run inside or refuse to go in. Did I want it confirmed, or was this the time to jump on the denial ride? I got off the bike. I couldn’t afford the luxury of denial.

  I looked at the building, which was little more than a shack, and hesitated for a second before walking toward it. Dax, with a rare show of patience, waited while I took my time.

  I felt his fingers wrap around mine and squeeze, then let go. Instead of it calming me, all I could think was Dax was trying to be reassuring. Had he ever done that before? I might really be fucked.

  “You can do this,” he said.

  I was pretty sure he didn’t have any such faith. He was probably just trying to pump up my courage. I knew he needed this almost as much as I did.

  “Please stop bein
g nice. You’re freaking me out.”

  “Good. It’s not my style anyway.”

  If I hadn’t been so nervous, I would’ve laughed.

  I took a deep breath and nodded, mostly to myself. I wasn’t a wimp, and wouldn’t become one now. I took the first step forward and marched into the hole, knowing Dax had my back.

  I pushed the door open and scanned the few patrons in the room, a couple of guys sitting at a table by the bar and a single man behind it. Clear so far, or so it appeared. Either there were no Dark Walkers or I was screwed.

  I found a table in the corner, which would give me the best vantage point of the place, and settled in to wait. When the barkeep raised his head and looked over at us, I didn’t wait for him to come to the table and called out an order for a double whiskey.

  Dax cleared his throat, and I didn’t need to see his expression. “I’m not a wimp. I just need whiskey today, so deal with it. It won’t change anything.”

  He didn’t say anything, and I pretended that there wouldn’t be an expression on his face if I looked, which I wouldn’t do. He was a glacier, and that was fine. Other people had things called nerves.

  Every time the door pushed open, I hoped to see a Dark Walker. It was the first time in my life I’d wanted one of those around. As each person came and went, I almost thought I’d hug one if it would just show up.

  I downed the whiskey when it came and resisted the urge to order another, for the first hour or so.

  Four hours later, I turned to Dax and nodded toward the door. He stood without saying a word. He didn’t look disappointed, but I couldn’t help but feel he must be. I was, to the very core of my being. I’d lost my ability to spot my enemy. This was a disaster. How could I avoid them if I didn’t even know who they were anymore? For the first time I understood why Dax valued this ability so much.

  We made our way to the door. I gripped the handle and swung it open. That was when I saw him. The dark mist hovering all around his body as he walked toward the place. I looked away quickly, not wanting to show my hand, and I didn’t actually have any real desire to hug him either, but I was still relieved.

  I looked at Dax. “We’re good. At least with this.”