Blood Hunt

by Butcher, Shannon K.

He pulled out his phone and dialed. “Steve, are you all well?” He listened for a moment. “Good, that’s good.” His eyes met Hope’s. “I was wondering if you had a moment to speak to someone for me. Just answer her questions with the truth, please.” He paused. “No, your vow of secrecy does not apply to Hope. You may speak freely.”

  Logan handed her the phone. She put it to her ear, half expecting a trick. “Steve?”

  “What can I do for you?”

  She didn’t dare blurt out her real question, which was whether he knew he’d been manipulated. “How did you and your wife meet?”

  “Uh. Logan set us up.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  He hesitated. “My sister was dying. Car accident. Her brain was swelling and she was in a coma. Logan came into her room and said he’d help in exchange for a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “He wanted me to meet Pam, though I didn’t know her name at the time.”

  “Did you find that odd?” she asked.

  “Yeah, but I was kinda out of my head with worry. Nothing made any sense at the time. She was my kid sister. My responsibility. Mom and Dad were gone and I was the only one left to take care of her, but there was nothing I could do.”

  “So you agreed?”

  “Yeah. I was desperate. I thought it was worth a shot—a hell of a lot better than watching my sister die.” He pulled in a deep breath. “So I agreed. It was the first night Logan took my . . . you know.”

  “Blood?”

  “Yeah. He took my sister’s, too. Whatever he did after that must have worked. The swelling went away. She woke up. She’s a medical student now.”

  “And Pam? What happened when you met her?”

  She could hear a smile creep into his voice and a distant quality filled it, like her presence on the line was suddenly unimportant. “She was my other half. A part of my soul I hadn’t realized I lost.”

  A sense of jealousy filled Hope, but she ignored it. No sense in being jealous over something artificial. “How long have you been together?”

  “Five years. Married three.”

  “And you have a baby on the way?”

  “Yeah. A son.”

  “Did Logan order you to have children?”

  “What?” The way he squawked the word made it sound like her question was ridiculous. “Of course not. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Didn’t he tell you that’s why he put you together? So you could have babies and he could drink their blood, too.”

  “Listen, lady. I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but Logan’s not like that. He’s a good man. He’s nearly killed himself helping me twice now. I owe him everything, and I know without a doubt that when my son is here, Logan would do the same for him.”

  “But what about the blood?”

  “What about it? It’s no big deal. Doesn’t even hurt.”

  “Are you going to let him have your son’s blood?”

  “The minute he’s old enough to handle it, you bet your ass I will. None of us have been sick a single day since we met Logan, and the one time I fell and broke my leg, he came right over and patched me up so I wouldn’t miss any work. Sure, the whole magical thing is a little far-fetched, but as far as I’m concerned, I don’t know how a CAT scan works, either. It’s all a mystery to me. Logan just happens to be better, faster, and a hell of a lot cheaper. I don’t care what anyone says. He’s a fucking superhero.”

  What could she say to that? Either Steve was being completely honest with her and he truly didn’t mind the arrangement, or he was so brainwashed he didn’t even know the truth.

  Hope knew which one she thought was more likely. The man had been way too smooth to be reciting things he’d been force fed.

  Which meant she had a lot to think about. She didn’t like Logan’s tactics, but that didn’t mean everyone hated them. Steve certainly had benefitted from Logan’s interference in his life.

  And she remembered how bright Steve’s love for his wife had shone in his aura. That was not something that could be faked. His love was real. He was connected to his wife in a way Hope could only dream about.

  But she didn’t dream about it with this Eric guy. She’d lied about falling in love with Logan. She wasn’t falling. She’d fallen. Past tense. She’d thought that his manipulative ways would have kept it from happening, but they hadn’t. If anything, the things he’d done to others had only cemented her feelings.

  Not only did Logan have to fight for every drop of blood, he also had to take care of every life he touched. On top of that, there were people like her whose mistrust probably didn’t make his efforts any easier.

  She opened her mouth to apologize when Nicholas burst out the front door, his face grim. “You need to come inside. We have a situation.”

  Logan tensed beside her and took a protective step closer, scanning their surroundings.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’m so sorry, Hope,” said Nicholas. “The shelter and your studio. They’re both on fire.”

  Hope stared in horror at the TV screen. One side showed an image of her studio. Firefighters blasted it with thick jets of water, but it seemed to be doing little good. On the other side of the screen was the homeless shelter where a reporter stood out front.

  The reporter’s words slid past her, not sinking in. All she saw were the flames rising up in the background as the fire crews worked to control the blaze. Huge plumes of black smoke billowed from the barred windows.

  She scanned the surrounding crowd as the camera panned across the scene. She searched for a glimpse of Sister Olive or any of the regulars who visited. There was a growing group of people outside gawking, but she recognized none of them.

  Fear weighed down on her, making it hard to breathe.

  Logan’s arm slid around her shoulders. She huddled against his side, waiting for someone to tell her this was all a mistake. “Where are the people who were inside?”

  Nicholas sent Logan a meaningful look—one she didn’t understand.

  “What?” she asked.

  Sympathy filled Nicholas’s gaze. “They don’t know about your studio, but the reporter said the fire at the shelter was obviously arson. The doors were barricaded from the outside.”

  The significance of what he said sank in, freezing Hope from the inside out.

  It was cold tonight. The shelter would have been full. All those people had been trapped inside. Along with Sister Olive.

  Grief choked her. Her knees gave out. Logan’s strong arm held her up, supporting her.

  She struggled to regain her balance. She needed to be strong right now and figure out what had happened. She needed to go back and find out how many people had escaped—broken the bars on the windows. Surely some of them had found a way out.

  Maybe even Sister Olive.

  “I need to leave,” she announced, her voice sounding weak and hollow.

  “You can’t,” said Logan. “That fire was set purposefully. We know a powerful Synestryn wants you. And while I tried to plant false memories in that Dorjan’s head, it may have failed. They attacked your home as well as the shelter. I think it’s more than possible that fire was meant to either kill you or force you to come out of hiding.”

  His words took longer than normal to sink in. “You’re saying you won’t take me back?”

  “No. I won’t.”

  “Neither will I,” said Nicholas. “I’m sorry for your loss, but our priority now has to be your safety.”

  Hope pulled away from Logan’s hold and sank to the couch. Her knees were still weak. Her body was shaking. Ice coated her insides, numbing her from the pain she knew would hit at any moment.

  She had to hold it together long enough to find out if Sister Olive was still alive. The woman had been like a mother to her. Hope couldn’t simply sit around and wait to find out if she was still alive.

  What if she was injured? What if she needed Hope at her side, pray
ing for her recovery?

  Hope reached for her cell phone, before she remembered it was gone. She needed to call for a cab, but she didn’t even know where she was.

  Flashing lights, smoke, and flames filled the TV screen. A bright red banner scrolled across the bottom, mocking her inability to move forward as it did. She didn’t know what to do next.

  Sister Olive may be dead.

  Grief crashed into her, making her sway. A low sound of mourning filled her ears. Hot tears slid down her cold cheeks, stinging as they passed.

  Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Her whole world had gone up in flames and now she had nothing. No family. No home. No job. Everything had been stripped from her, laying her bare.

  The air was too thin. She couldn’t seem to get enough of it to fill her lungs. Her chest burned and she held herself as she rocked. The ice inside her had melted, and now she felt everything. All the fear and pain and grief. It slammed down on top of her, over and over, beating the life from her body.

  Her mind struggled to make sense of things, to find some course of action that would help. But nothing came to her. There was nothing she could do to fix this. Her life was gone.

  Again.

  For the second time in less than thirty years, everything had been taken from her. She couldn’t go through it again. She couldn’t start from scratch and rebuild her life. She wasn’t that strong.

  If that Synestryn had meant to kill her in that fire, he’d succeeded, because Hope was certain she wasn’t going to survive. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to try.

  Hope’s anguish assaulted Logan’s senses. He could hear her heart race and her breath wheezing in and out of her lungs. The heavy scent of mourning flooded his nose, and the sight of her tears made something dark and violent writhe in his chest.

  He had to do something.

  Logan turned to Nicholas. “Do not try to stop me,” he told the Theronai.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Ease her pain.”

  “Why would I stop that?”

  Logan didn’t answer. Instead he gathered her trembling body in his arms and carried her back to one of the bedrooms. She didn’t fight him. She didn’t even seem to acknowledge his existence.

  Nicholas was right on his heels. “Whatever you’re going to do, I’m going to watch.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “The hell I’m not. She’s my responsibility.”

  Logan whirled around, snarling at Nicholas. He tried to keep his voice quiet, but he managed only to sound more feral. “Hope is mine.”

  Nicholas stopped in his tracks, looking stunned. “I’ve never seen you act like this before. What’s gotten into you?”

  “A woman I care for is in pain.”

  A silent sob shook Hope’s body, making Logan wish she’d turn to him for comfort.

  “You care for her? Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?”

  Logan restrained his anger long enough to lay Hope down on the bed. She curled into a ball, hugging herself. Every moment Nicholas delayed him was another moment of suffering for Hope.

  That was simply unacceptable.

  He gathered his power and grabbed Nicholas by the throat. He slammed the beefy man into the door frame. “I care not what your opinion of me is. Hope is the one who matters here. She’s in pain. I intend to ease her suffering. Back. The. Hell. Off.”

  Logan let go of Nicholas. The man’s neck was red, but he didn’t even rub away the sting. Instead, he filled the doorway, crossing his thick arms over his chest. “I’m not leaving you alone with her when you’re like this. Not unless you kill me.”

  Which he knew Logan would not do. His blood was far too valuable, as was his sword arm.

  Logan was going to have to ease Hope with an audience, which was awkward, but necessary. He didn’t want to waste even one more second on Nicholas.

  Hope was facing away from them. Quiet sobs of pain shook her shoulders.

  Logan sat next to her, shoving all emotion from his mind in preparation for what he was going to do. After several deep breaths, he laid his hand on her forehead and forced his blood to give up its stores of power.

  He sought out her grief and gathered it up. It swarmed about him, stinging like a hundred wasps. The pain grew the longer he controlled the emotion, but he needed to accumulate all he could. He wouldn’t have the will to do this twice.

  Once he controlled her pain, he shoved it into himself, holding his breath as her emotions became his own.

  A sense of loss so deep it would never heal split him open. His soul wept boiling tears of mourning that burned until he was sure the pain would kill him. Every empty part of him was filled with grief and loneliness.

  Intellectually, he knew that these emotions were not his, but that made them no less real. Hope felt things deeply. More so than any other human he’d ever known. Her sorrow invaded every part of her until her very cells were drowning in it.

  Logan didn’t know how she’d survived feeling like this, even for a moment. He carried only a portion of her anguish and it was enough to drive him mad.

  Normally, he would have adapted to the feelings, absorbed them, and transformed them into chemical and electrical signals that would fade in moments. But this was too much. He couldn’t process it all. He didn’t know how she could stand it.

  He heard Nicholas’s concerned voice, but couldn’t make out the words. Not that they’d matter. Nothing seemed to matter now except Hope.

  Logan gathered her into his arms and held on tight. Her warmth sank into him, anchoring him in place.

  He needed just a little more time to fight off these feelings. To let them dissipate. And then, when they had, he’d go back to gather up more, despite the pain it caused him.

  He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her to suffer alone.

  Chapter 25

  Nicholas didn’t like this situation. He didn’t know what Logan was doing to the woman, but whatever it was, it was costing him dearly. The Sanguinar’s skin had gone so pale it was nearly translucent. His body shook, and Nicholas could see Logan’s flesh wasting away before his eyes. Muscles that had been there only moments ago were shrinking and fading, leaving the other man’s clothing hanging on his frame.

  He went to Logan’s side and put his hand on his bony shoulder. “You need to stop.”

  Logan didn’t seem to hear him. His grip on Hope was tight, his body curled around her almost possessively.

  Or maybe not almost. The Sanguinar had claimed her. Backing up that claim was a different story entirely, and modern women tended to be a bit prickly about such things. Their independent streaks were wide and tender. Treading on one was risky.

  Not that Nicholas wouldn’t have done the same thing if he’d thought Hope could save him. He would have. He would have done anything in his power to hold on to her. Just the way Logan was doing.

  He heard the door to the Gerai house open. He put his hand on his sword and went to see who was there.

  Tynan shut the front door behind him, gathering his coat about his lean body to ward off the chill. The Sanguinar was strikingly perfect in his appearance, with the kind of good looks that made women stare in lust-filled awe. Like all the Sanguinar, he had pale skin and eyes that had the ability to shed light when their emotions ran hot or they were using their magical mojo.

  A Sanguinar with glowing eyes was a dangerous beast. Of course, even without the glowing eyes, Logan and Tynan’s kind were not to be trusted. Unless it was to trust that they would do whatever benefitted them.

  Which made Nicholas wonder what Logan stood to gain by easing Hope’s pain. Perhaps her cooperation?

  “What are you doing here?” asked Nicholas.

  “I’m looking for Logan. Where is he?”

  “In the bedroom. With a woman.”

  Only a faint flicker of surprise lifted Tynan’s brow before he controlled his reaction and his face once again became impassive. “I see. Perhaps I sh
ouldn’t disturb them then.”

  “Actually, you probably should. I don’t know what he’s doing, but it doesn’t seem to be too healthy for him.”

  Tynan hurried past Nicholas and down the hall until he found Logan. He watched for a moment before he went to the bed.

  “Stop,” said Tynan in such a forceful tone that Nicholas found himself freezing in place, not even daring to breathe for a second.

  Logan growled. The quiet warning was unmistakable.

  “You must stop,” repeated Tynan, this time with more force.

  Logan ignored him.

  Tynan turned to Nicholas. “Strike him.”

  “What?”

  “Hit him. Hard. Disrupt his concentration.”

  “Do it yourself.”

  “As you wish. I would have thought you’d enjoy the task.”

  There had been times when Nicholas would have bled for the chance to slap one of the Sanguinar, but not like this.

  Tynan drew back his fist and slammed it into the side of Logan’s face.

  Logan was lying still one moment, and the next, he was flying at Tynan, claws and teeth bared, eyes glowing. The snarl on his face was a deadly warning, as was the hiss pouring from his mouth.

  Nicholas yanked Tynan out of the way and took the brunt of Logan’s attack. The Sanguinar’s claws raked across his face, drawing blood, but Logan was no match for Nicholas’s strength. He spun Logan around and tossed him to the floor. His head bounced off the wall and he stayed down.

  Logan shook his head as if to clear it. Tynan knelt down by his side. “Are you well?”

  Logan nodded. The light had gone out of his eyes, leaving them the normal, pale silver color. He looked up at Nicholas. “I apologize. I will repair the damage.”

  “No, I will,” said Tynan.

  “It’s just a scratch.”

  “One that is bleeding and will draw unwanted company.”

  The leech was right.

  Nicholas stood still while Tynan worked his mojo, closing up the small wounds. As soon as the searing heat faded from his cheek, Nicholas went to wash away the blood. When he got back, they were all going to have a serious talk about what the hell had just happened.