Rolling my eyes I moved to follow and was met with the overwhelming stench of booze and sweat. I wrinkled my nose and did my best to breathe through my mouth as Eric led us through the entryway and into the living area. Taking a seat on one of the sofas in the room, James sat beside me while our host sat across from us, nervously playing with his hands. The smell in the room was all encompassing. If he truly was sober before calling the Pack, how the hell had things gotten so bad, this fast? I could only image how it was affecting James with his enhanced shifter senses. I had to repeatedly blink my eyes just to keep them from watering, but I was fighting a losing battle.
Composing myself as best as I could, I tried to size up Eric Delaney. He was small for a man, around my height of five-foot-seven and was much thinner than I would have expected for a shifter. Most shifters were built with corded muscles and an athletic body. Eric was so thin he appeared sickly, almost malnourished. I surveyed the room and spotted several empty bottles strewn across the carpet and several shards of broken glass, likely remnants from previous bottles as well. There was a questionable pile in the carpet near the window and the flies buzzing around it led me to believe it was vomit.
Gross.
I returned my gaze to Eric and took a breath, instantly regretting it as the smell of vomit hit my nostrils. God what had he been doing, drinking himself into a coma?
“Mr. Delaney,” I began, “when was the last time you saw your son?”
He didn’t seem to hear me because his gaze kept flitting back and forth from James to me and then to the floor, all the while making restless movements with his hands and feet.
“Mr. Delaney?”
Still nothing. I looked at James, a question mark on my face.
He sighed. “Eric, I’m not here to hurt you. Answer her questions.”
I raised a brow, but James didn’t bothering answering my unspoken question. Why would Eric think James was here to hurt him? Did they have past issues or something?
Regardless of the why, Eric seemed to immediately calm down and was able to sit partially still though he continued to ring his hands. “Umm…three years ago or so,” he finally answered.
“And why is that?” I said. He looked even more uncomfortable than he had a few moments ago. I watched as a deep flush rose up his neck.
“Umm…because…I was a drunk,” he whispered. Well it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out.
“Still am,” he admitted a second after the first admission.
I sighed. This wasn’t going to be as productive of a meeting as I had hoped.
†
James and I spent close to an hour at Delaney’s house grilling him for any information he may hold relevant to Daniel’s death. In the end, we still came away with nothing. Eric Delaney was a sad man who walked away from his son because he thought in some twisted way that he was doing the right thing.
I found out he’d requested leave from the Pack because he was ashamed. The Pack wasn’t aware of his drinking habits but assumed he’d requested the time to help mend his broken heart after his divorce.
After the divorce his drinking took a turn for the worse and when he’d finally gotten himself clean and sober, he approached Jessica, Daniel’s mother, about seeing his son but when he called, her curt reply had been that Daniel was missing. Days later, she called him, notifying him of Daniel’s death. As a result, Eric took yet another downward spiral back into a drunken stupor until he sobered up just enough to phone his Alpha and ask for help.
He had no information. No idea why his son may have been targeted or who might be responsible. We all knew it was a vampire based on the twin puncture marks left on the body and the significant blood loss but that remained the only piece of relevant information we had.
As we walked out of Delaney’s house, James hung back for a few moments and spoke to Eric in private before following me outside to the car. Climbing into the Mustang we both mulled over what Delany had told us in silence. I kept going back to the why. Why Daniel? Why him of all the kids out there? The vampire who attacked him had to know he was a shifter. Their senses were enhanced enough to catch even a hint of shifter genes in a person, so why follow through?
From what I’d been told, vampires didn’t like the way a shifter’s blood tasted. It didn’t provide the same effect human blood did and even rogues tended to know the difference. There had to be more to it.
“What did you say to Delaney?” I asked as we headed back into downtown Spokane.
James peered over at me and considered my question for a moment.
“I told him the Pack was going to send him some help and that we were putting him into the Pack’s rehab program.”
“Does he want that?”
James shrugged. “Doesn’t matter what he wants. He needs to get sober, that’s all there is to it.”
I digested that tidbit of information. Guess the Pack did what they thought was best and while I agreed Eric needed to get sober, that didn’t mean it should be forced on him. He should have a choice in the matter. The thought led me back to his initial fear. Why was he afraid of James and why did he assume James was there to hurt him?
I tried to find the best way to phrase my next question. I wasn’t sure if James would actually tell me but figured it was worth a shot.
“What do you do?” I asked him, keeping my voice casual as I gazed out of the passenger side window.
He gave me a perplexed look. “You know what I do. I run the gym.”
James owned Hills Fitness Center, a local gym in Spokane, Washington specializing in mixed martial arts and hand-to-hand combat training. That didn’t explain Eric’s fear though, so I knew there was more to it.
“Not your day job, what do you do for the Pack?”
I knew each member played an integral part within the Pack’s hierarchy and while most still had a day job, their main occupation lay within the Pack.
James remained silent. After several long minutes I wondered if he was going to answer me at all.
Finally he heaved a sigh and pulled over to the side of the road. Killing the engine he sat still for a moment before turning to face me.
Oh dear, shit was about to get serious.
“I’m the Pack’s hunter,” he said in a grim voice, staring me straight in the eyes. Oh shit. He was the hunter. I schooled my expression to hide my shock. This was a big deal, like 500 pound big. I’d been trying to figure out who the hunter was for close to a year and he’d been right under my nose. Being the hunter meant you were outside of the hierarchy in a way. He wasn’t an Alpha, nor could he be. But he wasn’t beneath anyone either. Every Pack needed a Hunter. I wasn’t supposed to know any of this though. Hunters were a Pack secret so staring back into his eyes with a blank expression on my face, I quirked a brow.
James let out an exasperated bark. “You have no idea what that means, do you?”
I shook my head. Oh I knew all right, but saying no aloud would make me a big fat liar and he’d know it. Shifters could scent a lie so a shake of my head was much safer. I smiled as I watched him fidget. James was cool as steel, he was always calm and collected, using humor to lighten any situation, but for whatever reason, the topic of being Pack Hunter made him uncomfortable.
“I’m the one responsible for delivering Pack justice.” His voice sounded defeated, like the words tasted wrong on his tongue.
“Are you not very good at it?” I was confused over why he made his position sound so distasteful. Being responsible for issuing justice on behalf of the Pack made his role as my partner that much more valid and made him a huge asset to the Pack. Very few were capable of being a Hunter.
“No, that’s the problem. I’m good at what I do. Perhaps too good.”
I still didn’t understand why that was a problem. James must have understood my confusion because after another minute he continued. “When a shifter turns rogue, Declan sends me in to handle it.”
I gazed out the window, a pair of crows pic
ked at a deceased carcass of what I could only assume had been a deer based on the size of the body. I sniffed the air, the slight cloying scent of decay coming through the AC vents.
“And what exactly goes into ‘handling it?’” I said, turning away from the scene.
James shrugged and didn’t say anything more.
“You take them out then,” I said. I didn’t bother to voice it as a question.
“If it’s necessary.”
I nodded. That could be rough. I knew that shifters often went rogue. They had to constantly work to keep their animal sides in check and maintain a balance. I’d heard stories of shifters going off the deep end and killing their entire families in their madness.
About a year ago, there had been reports of a bear shifter going rogue and killing almost an entire community. Over 500 people were massacred in a fit of uncontrollable rage on the outskirts of Cheney, a small town about an hour from Spokane. The Pacific Northwest Pack spread throughout Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and Montana but its primary compound was in Spokane. It had taken the Pack just over an hour to get to Cheney once word of the Bear hit their ears. A lot could happen in an hour and rumor was, not much had been left when they’d arrived. I could see why the Pack needed a Hunter. I could also see why it would suck to be the Hunter.
“Do you need to talk about your feelings now?” I asked.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
“Sure do. It’s a wonder you’ve put up with me as long as you have.”
James smiled, a real smile that met his steely grey eyes. “You know, I ask myself that question all the time.”
I jovially punched him in the shoulder. “Jerk,” I said. James flashed his teeth in a feral grin as he pulled the car back into traffic.
“Hey, Ari.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
I smiled. “Anytime James.”
blood and magic 02 - kissed by fire Page 17
