Blood Hunt

by Butcher, Shannon K.

  A few seconds later, Logan felt his skin knit shut and Tynan pulled away. He frowned at Logan. “You said she was strongly blooded.”

  “She is.”

  “I sensed her cells within you, but they were as empty of power as a non-blooded human.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course they’re not. Without her blood I’d be dead.”

  Tynan’s eyes lit, flaring for a brief moment. “You’re right. They’re not empty. They’re . . . sleeping. I cannot wake them.”

  “You’re saying that you can’t access the power in her blood but I can?”

  “It seems so.”

  “Have you ever run into this before?”

  “No.”

  The memory of Hope’s bursts of strength and the odd glow of colors she saw came rushing back to Logan. “Could it be some kind of Theronai power? You know how Helen has a gift for fire and Andra is adept at shields. Could her sleeping blood be some kind of gift meant to protect her from Synestryn?”

  “It’s possible. Does she bear the mark?”

  “No.” He’d seen her body, and unless the ring-shaped birthmark of the Theronai was hidden, she did not bear it.

  Tynan glanced over his shoulder, checked the doorway, and lowered his voice. “We must be very careful here. Very certain. Has she shown any signs of magical power?”

  Logan nodded. “Physical strength. And something else I can’t name. It’s like she has another sense; she can see things others cannot.”

  “I truly don’t know what to think. It’s like she’s a mix we’ve never seen before—some kind of genetic anomaly or a mix of races.”

  “She could be part Slayer.”

  “That would certainly please Eric.”

  Logan bit back a bitter laugh. Eric didn’t seem the type to be pleased about anything. “If we can prove it, Andreas will approve the match.”

  “And you’re content with that?”

  “No. I am not. Even thinking about Hope with another man puts me in a killing mood. But I know what’s at stake. I will do what’s right.”

  “We’ll make sure she’s happily settled,” Tynan assured him.

  It wasn’t enough. Logan wanted her to be happy with him. It was selfish and juvenile, but it was his wish nonetheless. “She’s not even going to meet a man of our choosing unless we find out what’s going on. I promised her I’d help her find where her missing friends had gone. Until I do that, her side of the bargain will not go into effect. We find these people or she’ll never meet Eric.”

  “Do you think the fires are connected?”

  “Yes. Don’t you?”

  “There’s something about them that bothers me.”

  “What?” asked Logan.

  “The police chief said the fire department had never seen a fire burn this hot this fast.”

  “You think it was of magical origin?”

  “You tell me.”

  Logan wasn’t naturally one to share more details than necessary, but he guessed this situation qualified. “There’s a Synestryn lord after Hope. His name is Krag and he’s got several humans under his thrall. He sent one after Hope. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he has control of one of the demons who use fire.”

  “What if it’s a Handler?” asked Tynan.

  Denial rose up hard and fast, blocking out even the thought. Those demons were as rare as they were deadly. They were smarter than most, armed with whips that could set fire to nearly anything. With their ability to control weaker demons, Handlers could raze entire towns in a single night, if left unchecked. He still remembered what they’d done to Helen’s home the night they’d found her. “It’s not.”

  “With fire like that, it could be a Handler, and if this Krag has sent one after her, its hounds will have her scent. They’ve been to her home. She won’t be safe anywhere.”

  Slick, oily fear rose up in Logan’s throat, nearly choking him. He sprang from the table as he spoke. “We need to get both her and Jodi to Dabyr. Tonight.”

  “Is Krag after Jodi as well?”

  “I don’t know, but she lives and works with Hope. If the Handler has Hope’s scent, he also has Jodi’s.”

  “We’ll go to Dabyr immediately.”

  “No. You take them both to Dabyr. I’m covered in her scent. Nicholas and I can go in the opposite direction and try to throw them off the trail.”

  The front door burst open. “Incoming!” shouted Nicholas as he sprinted into the living room, sword drawn. “There’s too many for me to fight. We need to run.”

  Chapter 26

  Hope heard the commotion and shook Jodi’s shoulder. Something was coming and they needed to run.

  Jodi’s body was limp and unresponsive. Whatever Logan had done to her to make her sleep had worked too well.

  The drop-dead beautiful man who’d been here earlier walked in and picked up Jodi. “Come with me. Now.”

  Hope didn’t argue. She went where Jodi went.

  They passed through the living room. Nicholas had his sword out. Logan was putting on the leather coat he’d made love to her on only a little while ago. His jaw was tight and his eyes glowed with a feral light.

  Hope reached for him as she passed. He stepped aside, refusing to look at her. “Go,” he said. “We’ll catch up.”

  “Catch up? We have to run.”

  “There’s no time to argue.” Logan grabbed her arm and marched her toward the door, down the steps, and over the icy ground. In the distance, she saw shapes moving and flickering wisps of flames. They were surrounded by auras of black nothingness.

  Fear slowed her feet, but Logan practically lifted her, hurrying her to the van. Despite the cold, her palms broke out in a nervous sweat and her heart raced.

  “You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “We won’t let them reach you.”

  Hope had seen him like this before—all business, focused and calm. It wasn’t a good sign of things to come.

  Tynan set Jodi in the backseat of his van, leaving the door open for Hope. He went around and got in behind the wheel. Logan all but shoved Hope up into the van. “Stay with Tynan.”

  “What about you?” she called after him as he jogged away.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Tynan started the engine. Nicholas positioned himself between the barn and a sturdy oak tree. His sword gleamed under the moonlight.

  Something small shot through the dark. Hope got only a tiny glimpse of it, but she swore it was surrounded by that same black aura as the monsters. It struck Logan, sending him falling back.

  He’d been hit by a projectile.

  Synestryn closed in on Nicholas.

  Logan let out a roar and grabbed at whatever had struck him. Something long and skinny, like the tail of a snake, wriggled in his grasp.

  Whatever had hit him was . . . alive.

  She had to help him. She couldn’t leave him alone and prone while monsters closed in.

  Hope yelled at Tynan, “Go!” and slammed the van door shut.

  She sprinted over the ground to Logan’s side. He’d managed to dislodge the snake from his shoulder. He tossed it to the ground and Hope stomped on it.

  Tynan’s tires spit gravel as he shot down the long driveway.

  Blood gleamed wetly on Logan’s leather coat. It didn’t have the metallic smell she was used to. It was sweeter than that, like honeysuckle. The urge to see if it tasted as sweet as it smelled swept through her and she had to grit her teeth to stop herself.

  She pressed her hand to the wound to slow the bleeding. Logan’s face was grim. “You should have left.”

  “I couldn’t leave you behind.”

  He rose to his feet in one smooth, powerful motion. His injury had to hurt, but he showed no sign of pain.

  Movement caught her eye. A pair of furry, rust-colored monsters were slinking toward them. While they vaguely resembled wolves, their jaws were too wide, showing off hundreds of triangular teeth, like a shark. There were burned-out holes where their eyes should
have been, but their lack of sight didn’t seem to impede them. Their nostrils flared as they sniffed the air, heading right toward her and Logan.

  He grabbed her wrist, ripping her hand away from his wound, and pulled her toward Nicholas. Another two of those furry things were lunging at him, jaws snapping. Three more lay dead at his feet.

  “Stay here,” ordered Logan as he positioned her between himself and Nicholas.

  Blue-white light spilled from his eyes. He lifted his hand and more light erupted from his fingertips. It splashed out, flattening into a flat disc between them and the two approaching Synestryn.

  The air shivered with electricity. It crackled through her hair and slid along her skin like a caress. She didn’t know what he was doing, but it was beautiful and felt good. She could hear Nicholas fighting, sense his sudden movements in the shifting air, but she was too busy watching the light to care what he did.

  Beyond that disc, she saw the flicker of flames. Something came out of the shadows, striding toward them. It was taller than a human with hairless, snow-white skin. It had no nose or lips, just openings in its skull. Wicked teeth dripped with saliva that ran down its chin to wet the rust-colored fur cloak it wore. Its legs were oddly jointed, bending the wrong way, making its movements jarring to watch. In one hand it held a whip made from something silver and in the other hand was a red-hot poker.

  “Handler,” whispered Logan, his jaw clenched in concentration. “Stay still.”

  Hope did. Only her chest moved, sucking in huge gulping breaths of air that smelled of honeysuckle.

  Her hand was wet with his blood—blood she needed. She didn’t understand why she needed it, but the urge to taste it was growing uncontrollably.

  Her black, hidden past swelled inside her head, taunting her with its presence. She couldn’t see it, but she could feel it, looming right there, so close she could almost touch it. If it got only a little closer, if she reached out just a fraction, it would be right there, in her grasp.

  The blood. It was the scent of his blood that was tugging at her memories, making them roil to the surface.

  Hope lifted her hand and covered her nose and mouth with it, sucking in the scent. Her head spun. She heard a roaring in her ears, like waves breaking against a cliff.

  Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips and tasted something sweet. Logan’s blood.

  She waited for a feeling of revulsion to sweep over her, but it never came. His blood wasn’t repulsive. It was powerful. She could feel it sweeping through her system, spreading out to become a part of her. She licked her lips again, her body wanting more of that power.

  A faint flicker of a face appeared for a split second. It was a woman. She was stunningly beautiful, with silver hair falling down to her hips. She didn’t have a single wrinkle, but Hope knew instantly that she was old. Ancient. Powerful.

  Hope felt a sense of warmth at the memory. She’d loved this woman. Trusted her. The feelings ran so deep and wide, Hope had no idea how she’d ever managed to forget someone who was so obviously a huge part of her life.

  But as soon as the flash was gone and the image faded, the feelings began to fade as well, melting like snowflakes over a flame.

  Hope trembled with excitement. There was something there, and for the first time she’d been able to touch it.

  Light flared nearby, breaking her out of her stunned shock. That light was spewing from Logan’s hand. She blinked, realizing that whatever Logan had done to shield them had failed.

  He’d told her not to move and she’d moved.

  The Handler looked right at her and lifted his whip to strike. It was made from fine links of chain and each one glowed white hot. Wisps of smoke rose up from the sinuous length, melting snow and ice wherever it touched.

  The Handler’s arm swept in a deadly arc, dragging the chain through the air. Hope froze in place, unable to move.

  A pencil-thin beam of light slashed through the air, landing on the Handler’s snow-white skin. It screamed in pain and reared back. The two furry demons snarled in rage, bared their sharklike teeth, reared back onto their hind legs, and lunged at Hope.

  Krag felt the woman’s presence explode in his mind. He saw her standing in the moonlight, her blond hair whipping around her face. Her mouth was open around a scream and her golden eyes glowed with fear.

  She was beautiful. And she was his.

  He sent out a silent command to the Handler nearest her, commanding him to take her hostage. The Handler tried to resist the compulsion, but his feeble mind was no match for Krag’s powers. He’d learned at the feet of his father. There wasn’t a lesser Synestryn alive who could defy him.

  Krag’s vision of the woman faded, but he could still feel her this time, as if a light inside her had been switched on and he could see it glowing across the miles.

  Wherever she went, he would now be able to find her. Forever.

  Logan shoved Hope out of the way of the charging demons. They rammed into the barn wall, yelping as they struck.

  The move threw him out of position, earning him a searing lash from the Handler’s whip. It burned right through his coat and jeans and blistered his skin. The pain crushed the breath from his body and made his vision waver.

  Logan pushed Hope behind him, putting her back to the barn. Nicholas was on their right, fighting off another pair of demons. Logan could smell the Theronai’s blood, proving that at least one of them had landed a strike.

  The Handler lifted his whip again. It burned through a thin branch overhead. The branch fell at Logan’s feet, the severed end still smoldering. He grabbed it up and swung at the Handler. His injured shoulder and thigh burned. He’d stopped the bleeding, but the pain was sucking up his strength, making him weak.

  His blow missed and the Handler’s whip wrapped around the branch, slicing through it in three places. The burning chunks of wood fell, useless.

  “Nicholas,” he called. He used one hand to maneuver Hope so she was between him and Nicholas.

  “Almost there.”

  A ragged yelp of pain rose up and Logan hoped it was the sound of a dying Synestryn.

  Logan gathered his power and sent another burst of light streaking toward the Handler. The beam landed on his face. He shrieked and jerked back, growling through his bare teeth.

  Nicholas’s sword appeared, gleaming in the moonlight. With one strike, he severed a paw from one of the demons. The one next to it turned its burned-out eyes onto its brother and attacked.

  The two rolled away in a snarling ball of rust-colored fur.

  The Handler backed up, out of melee range—out of reach of Nicholas’s blade. The demon lifted his whip. Nicholas charged. Only one of the two furry demons lived, and it pounced over the ground, lunging for Nicholas’s throat.

  The chain slashed out, striking a thick limb overhead. It wrapped around the tree, sizzling and popping as it burned through the heavy wood.

  The limb started to fall. Logan pushed Hope back out of the way. He reached for Nicholas, but there was no more time. The branch fell, slamming both men to the ground.

  Logan heard the unmistakable sound of bone breaking. He was too stunned to figure out whose it was. He was hurting all over, from whatever had tried to burrow into his shoulder, and the deep burn on his thigh. Add to that the crushing weight of the branch and his whole world was pain.

  “Run!” he screamed at Hope.

  He couldn’t see her. His body was pinned in place so that he couldn’t lift his head. He didn’t think she’d been under the branch when it fell. Maybe she could get away.

  A feral cry of rage filled the icy air. That was Hope’s voice, roughened with a battle cry. She was still alive.

  One of the rust-colored beasts flew across the sky, landing out of his line of sight. Nicholas shoved at the branch. Pain exploded in Logan’s hip, but he ignored it and helped Nicholas push.

  The branch rocked but did not move.

  The Handler stepped up onto the branch. Nicholas cried out in
pain and swiped at the Handler’s legs with his sword. The angle was awkward and he missed. The Handler snapped his chain whip, wrapping it around Nicholas’s blade.

  Nicholas jerked his arm back, trying to pull the Handler off balance. Logan smelled burning flesh and saw smoke rising from the sword’s hilt.

  Nicholas refused to let go. To give up his sword to a Synestryn could cause his entire life’s work to be undone. A Theronai would die before he let that happen, and from the looks of it, that was exactly where this situation was heading.

  The Handler stepped over them toward where Logan thought Hope was. His whip slithered away from Nicholas’s blade, but the damage was done. The back of his hand was blistered, some of the flesh charred black. Logan could only imagine what the man’s palm looked like.

  Hope’s terrified scream filled Logan’s ears. Then suddenly, it was cut off.

  The Handler came back into view. Hope was draped over his shoulder. She was struggling weakly, her head hanging down over his back.

  He stepped back onto the log, crushing them beneath it. Bone grated against bone, sending his nerve endings into a frenzy of agony. Logan strangled on a cry of pain.

  Hope met his gaze. Her focus seemed off, but she was looking at his face. “Logan,” she whispered, reaching for him.

  He couldn’t reach her hand. He couldn’t touch her. The Synestryn was dragging her away and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  The Handler let out a shrill whistle, and the remaining demon came to heel.

  His whip stuck out from his belt, looped in a neat bundle. As he stepped over the branch, Hope grabbed it and tossed it back over the branch. The wood started to smoke as the chain sank through it, burning its way down.

  It was going to take only a few seconds to burn through. Then Logan could push the branch away and take Hope back.

  And then the Handler broke into a run, sprinting away on its oddly jointed legs. It ran faster than Logan could have thought possible, disappearing into a stand of evergreens a few yards away.

  “Help me,” ordered Logan.

  Nicholas didn’t respond.

  Panic spread through Logan’s blood, thickening it until his heart had to struggle for each beat. The chain burned so slowly it was maddening. Logan shoved with all his strength, needing to go after Hope.