Blood Hunt

by Butcher, Shannon K.

  Just the thought of seeing her again, of smelling her skin and feeling her warmth, was enough to calm his nerves. He would find her. And once he did, he’d find a way to save her, help or not.

  Nicholas groaned quietly, followed by a speeding of his pulse. He was used to pain, but this was different. The physical damage done to his body tonight was great. Logan hadn’t healed any of it but the bleeding.

  “I don’t know how much good I’m going to be in a fight,” said Nicholas.

  “I’ll heal you as soon as we find her.”

  “As much as I like that idea, I think you might be better off just taking my blood and going after her solo.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m covered in blood. They’ll smell me as soon as we get close.”

  “You carry spare clothes, do you not?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “But nothing. We’ll toss your bloody clothes out as a distraction. It will draw them away from Hope’s location, giving us time to free her and get out.”

  “I’m digging the positive thinking thing you’ve got going here. Most of your kind would have jumped on my offer of blood.”

  “Most of my kind don’t need your sword to free the woman they—” He stopped himself before he said something he’d regret.

  “The woman they what?”

  “You misheard me.”

  “Bullshit I did. You love her. No shame in that.”

  No shame in love, perhaps, but certainly there was shame in choosing a woman over his duty to his people. Hope didn’t need his love. There were others who could love her better than he. Thinking otherwise would simply make him a selfish, reckless fool. “You wouldn’t say that if you thought she was one of your own.”

  “No, but she’s not. She’s yours. Anyone with eyes could see it in the way she looks at you.”

  Logan wanted that to be true. Part of him wanted to believe that there was something real between them, but the rest of him knew it didn’t matter how she felt. They couldn’t be together. He couldn’t put his own selfish needs above the survival of his people. No matter how much he loved her.

  Regret burned hot in his gut, making his words come out clipped and angry. “We will not speak of this again. We need to concentrate on getting her back.”

  “Fine. Have it your way. If you’ve got a plan, I’m all ears.”

  They were getting closer. The SUV sailed over some railroad tracks and suddenly, he could feel Hope on his left. He’d just passed her.

  Logan kept going another mile before he pulled over. He turned around in his seat and looked at Nicholas. The man was pale and sweating. His right hand was blackened around the hilt of his weapon, red and blistered everywhere else. Repairing that damage wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Give me your left arm,” he told the Theronai.

  Nicholas offered up his wrist. Logan shoved his coat up, baring his vein.

  “Take a deep breath,” said Logan as he brought the other man’s wrist to his mouth. “This is going to hurt.”

  Logan was getting closer. Hope could feel that familiar sunlight warmth he caused glowing along her skin.

  She silently screamed for him to stay away, pleading with him not to come here. There were too many monsters here, too many humans under Krag’s control. They would hurt him, use him against her, and then they’d kill him.

  She couldn’t stand the thought of being the cause of his pain and death. She wanted him alive and happy, healing people and sticking his nose into their business.

  What about all the happy couples he had yet to help create? If he came here, those people may never meet each other, may never fall in love.

  Krag dragged her across the concrete floor, mostly carrying her. Hope’s legs still weren’t working right, and she was starting to wonder if the pounding in her skull was due to an injury she’d sustained while being brought here.

  She couldn’t remember much about the trip—just the cold and being jostled so hard she thought her teeth would fall out. The creature who’d carried her had no regard for her comfort. He ran inhumanly fast, sloshing her about as he leapt over any obstacle in his path.

  Maybe she had a concussion from all the jarring her brain had suffered. That would explain a lot.

  For some reason, believing that made her feel better. A concussion was normal. Human. There was nothing magical about it. She just had to grit her teeth and get through this. So what if her movements were clumsy and her vision sucked? She’d get better. She just had to hold herself together long enough to regain her strength and get out of this mess.

  Krag had no idea that she got those odd bursts of power. She’d bide her time and use it against him when he thought her weak.

  Maybe if she killed him, all of these poor people under his control would snap out of it.

  He let go of her arm and she slumped to the floor, unable to hold herself up. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and craned her neck back.

  Sister Olive stood there, tears running down her sooty cheeks. Fuzzy strands of hair had worked their way free of her bun, and her clothing was singed in spots. Her mouth was moving in quiet prayer.

  Rory stood next to her, the set of her jaw defiant. She glared at Krag. Her dark eyes glittered with the promise of vengeance. The muscles in her arms shifted as she tested the strength of her bonds.

  Krag let go of Hope, and reached out to stroke Rory’s face. She bit him. He jerked his scaly hand back, and she spit onto the floor.

  Black blood leaked from the bite wound. Krag held his three-fingered hand close to his body and struck her across the face with the other hand. Her head whipped around so hard Hope cried out for her friend, worried he’d broken Rory’s neck.

  That noise was a mistake.

  Krag turned around slowly, a grin showing off sharp, pointed teeth. “You do care for the humans. Excellent. That will make this so much more enjoyable.”

  Anger and fear collided inside her, mashing together in an ugly, rancid pile in her stomach. “Don’t you dare touch them again.”

  “You warning me? You seem to lack an understanding of who, exactly, is in control. I shall educate you.”

  Hope could feel the malevolence surrounding him. She could see it swirling within the bleak nothingness of his aura, like rotten spots of decay. Before he even moved, she realized that the lesson he was about to teach her would be horrible. Irrevocable.

  She tried to grab his leg to stop him, but he was already gone, too far away for her to reach.

  Krag snatched Sister Olive from the hand of the human who held her, grabbed her bun, jerked her head back, and bit her neck, tearing into delicate flesh.

  Sister Olive let out a strangled yell before falling deathly silent. The only sounds Hope could hear were the frenetic pounding of her heart and the sickening gulping sounds of that monster stealing Sister Olive’s life.

  Hope shoved herself to her feet and lurched for him. She was weak and her knees buckled as soon as she gained her feet. She slammed down into the concrete, hitting so hard her skin split against her kneecaps.

  She didn’t feel the blow. She was a hollow shell, with room for nothing but fear and rage.

  Hope crawled over the floor, scurrying to do something—anything—to stop him. She grabbed his ankle, digging her fingernails into his skin.

  He kicked her away, sending her skidding a few feet. She hit her head on a steel I beam. Her vision faltered for a moment and when it cleared, she saw Krag release Sister Olive’s lifeless body.

  The nun’s face was fixed in horror. The skin of her throat was ravaged and bloody, and the rest of her was pale.

  He’d drained all of Sister Olive’s blood. It had taken only a few seconds. A moment ago, she’d been alive, with a fighting chance at survival, and now she was . . . gone.

  Hope stared in shock, waiting to wake up and have this nightmare end. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. She was supposed to fight back, defeat the villain, save the day. T
hat was the way it went in movies.

  This was definitely no movie. The woman Hope loved like a mother was dead. Forever. And this time there was no question whether she’d survived. The proof of her death was staring Hope in the face, slicing at her, trying to penetrate the thick fog of shock that surrounded her.

  Hope was lifted up by strong hands. Not Krag’s, but someone else’s. She didn’t care whose.

  Krag stood in front of her, only inches from Rory. Sister Olive’s blood coated his chin and ran down his neck to wet his shirt. His teeth were stained by it.

  He grabbed Rory’s hair and jerked her head back, displaying her neck at an obscene angle. Rory grunted in pain and struggled to get away, but her efforts were futile. She was bound, and even if she hadn’t been, she was no match for Krag’s strength.

  “Would you like to issue another warning?” he asked with an eerie calm, as if he already knew the answer. “Shall I kill her as well?”

  He would. There was no question in Hope’s mind as to his earnestness. He wasn’t a man. He had no soul. He was a demon.

  And for some reason, he wanted Hope.

  Rory was young. She had her whole life ahead of her and, perhaps even more important, she had a past. Hope didn’t. Jodi and Sister Olive were the only two people who might miss her, and now Sister Olive was dead. Even Logan wouldn’t really notice she was gone after a while. He’d made it clear that he’d planned to fix her up with some other man. That wasn’t the action of someone who loved her.

  If Hope didn’t cooperate, Jodi could die, too. Krag had already managed to find her once. He could do it again. And even if he couldn’t, Rory was here now. She would suffer. Maybe even die as Sister Olive had.

  “No,” said Hope. “Don’t kill her. Please.”

  Krag eased up and set his black, soulless gaze on Hope. “Promise to obey me.”

  There was power in a bargain. She’d felt it when she’d promised Logan to meet Eric if he helped her find her missing friends. Now that their path had led her here, she could feel that bargain pushing her, making her worry more and more about whether she was going to be able to uphold her end. She didn’t know if it worked both ways, but as weak as she was, it was worth a shot.

  Hope chose her words carefully. “If you let Rory go and never harm her again, I’ll cooperate so long as no one else gets hurt.”

  “She goes nowhere.”

  “Then it’s clear you intend to kill her, in which case you’ll have no one left for leverage.”

  His nostrils flared in anger. “I’ll kill her slowly. I’ll make you watch her suffer.”

  “I’ll be dead either way,” said Rory.

  Krag jerked her head, making her gasp in pain. “Shut up! You are an animal. Meat.”

  False bravado was hard in the face of evil like him, but Hope didn’t know what else to do. Logan was getting closer, and unless he had an army with him—one he wouldn’t have had time to gather—once he was here, he was going to be another pawn for Krag to use against her.

  Hope squared her shoulders, carefully keeping her gaze away from Sister Olive’s body. She shoved as much strength as she could into her words. “Let Rory go or you’ll never get what you want.”

  Krag released her and stalked over to loom over Hope. “Are you saying you’ll give me what I want? Unquestioning obedience?”

  “I won’t hurt anyone. You can never make me do that.”

  “We’ll see,” he said, confidence dripping from his words like the bloody saliva from his teeth. “But I accept your bargain. The meat will go free and you will be mine.”

  A crushing weight slammed down onto her, driving the breath from her lungs. She didn’t know what he’d done to her, but she wasn’t going to live through it for long. She sucked in a wheezing breath. Dark spots formed in her vision. Krag jerked her to her feet.

  He bent over her. His stench made her gag. She couldn’t breathe. She felt his hot breath hit her neck and a moment later, all she felt was pain as his teeth ripped into her skin.

  Searing cold slid through her veins, burning them as some kind of toxin sped through her. Her heart slowed. Sweat broke out over her limbs and she started to shake.

  Krag shoved her head back until her spine felt like it would snap. With a deep growl of anger, he pulled back, his teeth coated in her blood.

  Revulsion shook her to her soul and her stomach heaved. Hunger twisted his face, and she knew that while he may have been able to stop himself this time, the next time he might not.

  Hope couldn’t face the thought of dying by his hands like that. Her blood was Logan’s. Letting this monster have even a drop felt like a deep betrayal. Not that she could stop him from doing it again.

  Rory was led away by a human. She was screaming something Hope couldn’t hear over the roar of her own heartbeat.

  Dizziness weighed her down. Krag’s horrible face filled her field of vision. He was smiling, pleased with himself.

  He lifted his hand and placed his reptilian fingers on her temple. A cold, searing pain whipped through her head, like being stabbed with knives made of ice.

  Dark, twisted images flickered through her thoughts. Sinister, alien impulses invaded her. The urge to hunt and kill surged inside her, making her legs twitch with the need to run. Her senses sharpened until she could hear the heartbeats of every creature nearby. The pumping rush of blood through their veins made her mouth water and her hands flex in preparation for digging her nails into their flesh. Hunger bore down on her, hollowing out her insides until the need for blood writhed inside her, demanding to be appeased.

  “That’s it,” she heard Krag whisper over her thoughts. “My vicious, hungry bride.”

  Chapter 29

  Logan was close. He could feel Hope, smell a faint hint of her skin on the breeze.

  She was inside the run-down factory across the street. He’d circled it, making sure he’d pinpointed her location before wasting time breaking in.

  Nicholas was in bad shape. Logan had managed to patch the worst of his injuries, but the blood he’d needed to take had left Nicholas drained and weak—too weak to stand, much less fight. The warrior was sweating and shaking, but Logan thought he’d at least saved the man’s hand from amputation. It was a long way from usable, but was the best he could do under the circumstances.

  “You can’t go in there alone,” said Nicholas, his voice trembling with fatigue.

  “I don’t have a choice. Sunrise is coming soon. I can’t wait for reinforcements.”

  “Paul and Andra are on their way. So are others.”

  “They won’t be here soon enough. There’s no end to the damage Krag could cause in the time it would take them to get here.”

  “So you’re going to go in alone and die?”

  “No. I’m going to scout out the situation. If there’s an opportunity for me to grab her and run, I will.”

  “You’re not a fighter,” said Nicholas.

  “For her I am. I’d do anything for her. Be anything for her.”

  Nicholas nodded. “Keep your phone with you. I’ll be able to track your movements.”

  Logan made sure it was silenced, then shoved it into his jeans pocket. He found a spare sword stashed in back with the rest of Nicholas’s supplies. It wasn’t a Theronai blade. It wasn’t imbued with any magic he could sense. It was common and simple, but it was better than nothing—certainly better than relying on what little power he had left in his blood.

  “I plan to go in from the west. This close to sunrise I’ll probably only have human guards to contend with.”

  “You can’t kill them.”

  He could. His vow to protect humans ended where the threat to Hope began. “Killing them would draw too much attention. I have better ways to dispatch them.”

  Logan made sure the engine was running and Nicholas had some bottled water nearby. If Hope made it out without him, at least she’d have a way of getting free.

  Once the sun was up, Logan was trapped indoors with
the Synestryn until sunset. Assuming he lived that long.

  Logan slipped around the building to the back. He smelled dozens of Synestryn nearby, within the building. There had to be a way in and out for them—one that probably involved a simple hole through the steel siding.

  Instead of a hole, he found a dock door partially open, the entrance covered with heavy rubber flaps. The stink of demons clung to the area and there were trails of mud, blood, and filth staining the concrete below.

  He held his breath and listened. The sky had lightened to a pale gray, signaling dawn. His instincts screamed at him to rush inside and escape the sun, but haste now could get him killed.

  Logan parted the rubber flaps with the tip of his sword. A few feet away from the opening was a tall stack of wooden crates—likely a screen against any possible rays of sunlight that might filter in. He saw no signs of demons or humans. He could smell them, he could even hear the heartbeat of at least two humans nearby, but that was all.

  He eased himself up and through the opening. He crouched behind the crates, listening for signs of guards. After a few seconds, he was able to locate those heartbeats. They were on the other side of the crates. Definitely human.

  Logan shielded himself from sight and scratched on the wood.

  “Did you hear that?” asked one of them.

  “What?”

  A man came around the wall of crates, squinting into the darkness. Silently, he urged the man forward.

  He was young, maybe twenty-five. His clothes were dirty and his hair hadn’t been cut in months. He was too thin, as if he’d simply forgotten to eat. Ragged bite marks marred his throat where he’d been fed on by demons.

  The question was, did he contain any of their blood? If so, feeding from him would only weaken Logan further. But if the man was blooded and his blood was clean, he could give Logan the strength he needed to help rescue Hope.

  Logan scratched again, luring the man forward. Two steps later, he was in reach.

  Logan dropped the shield and caught the man’s gaze. Pale light spilled out over the young man’s face, accentuating the gaunt hollows under his cheeks.