by Patti Larsen
HUNT
there’s nothing left to lose
Patti Larsen
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 by Patti Larsen
Purely Paranormal Press
Find out more about Patti Larsen at
http://www.pattilarsen.com/
and her books at
www.purelyparanormalpress.com
sign up for new releases at
www.bit.ly/pattilarsenemail
***
Cover art (copyright) by Stephanie Mooney. All rights reserved.
http://www.stephaniemooney.blogspot.com/
Edited by Annetta Ribken, freelance Goddess. You can find her at http://www.wordwebbing.com/
Proofed by Jessica Bufkin
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Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
***
Dedication
To Scott, my dear Boo
who said yes like it was no big deal when
I told him I wanted to sell my business and write full time.
My biggest fan. I love you.
***
Chapter One
The night air fills his lungs, silky and rich with aromas driving him to ecstasy. Everything is alive around him, every sense wide open to embrace each gift. The wind rushing past the fine hairs on his arms and cheeks makes them tingle, the scent of blood and hot flesh everywhere. The world is sharp and bright, details so crisp they take his breath away. He tastes the coming of the morning, the subtle shift in temperature as night gives way to the earliest trace of dawn.
They are around him, his family, his true pack, as beautiful to him as his freedom. Their silver eyes meet his for winks of time, shining chrome rims haloing gaping black, their pale skin glowing in his vision. Even their gleaming teeth, smiling at him, fill him with a surge of joy. He raises his clawed right hand, swipes at a passing sapling, feels the satisfying impact, the soft sigh of the falling top lost behind him as he runs on and on.
Freedom is his, theirs, at last. He follows them toward the gate and the world outside. Their destiny sings in his very blood, calling for him to hunt.
“Welcome, brother.” One of his siblings. She runs next to him, glittering eyes cold fire in his hyper vision. “We bear witness to your victory.” His mind knows she isn’t speaking English but he understands her easily.
Leadership comes naturally to him. His whole body surges with the dust of his success. “Send the message,” he says. “Nothing will stop us. Freedom is ours.” It’s like the need burns inside him, built into him somehow.
Her shark teeth flash as she lifts her head and howls his command.
The pack answers. The gathering is renewed. It is time.
But something is wrong. A low thud of sound suddenly echoes from everywhere. He slides to a halt, head cocked, searching for the source of the low whup-whup. He knows that noise, what it means. The snarl of frustration tears from his throat, lost in the pounding whir of helicopter rotors. Bright light flashes in his eyes, sending piercing pain through his brain and forcing him back into the trees. Debris whips around the pack, sending them scattering in fury and dashed hopes as the chopper lowers closer, the bottom rails brushing the treetops. A patter of automatic gunfire tears holes in leaves and rips off chunks of bark all around him. One of his sisters takes a bullet and collapses in a sigh of dust.
His body is new to this form and remembers the bitter rush of panic and terror when he was just ordinary prey. They may be foreign to who he has become but those old feelings break through enough to drive him onward.
The pack joins him, outdistancing the hovering helicopter, weaving their way clear of the light. He moves on toward the goal, only then understanding the air attack isn’t the only obstacle in his way.
The ground shakes beneath his feet, the rumble of heavy machines reaching him through his connection with the earth. He pauses, part of his awareness focused on the pursing helicopter while the rest digests this new information. He calls out a warning to his pack, hears them answer. They know already, what he knows.
These are new soldiers, not jailers this time. These soldiers are here to kill them.
The gate is close, so close he can smell the last of the smoke from the earlier explosion. But the exit is blocked, filled in by men with guns and heavy tanks girded with wide steel tracks forcing their way through the trees and down the paths made for hunting.
The pack has to retreat. It’s the only hope for survival. He calls out again, his message clear. Fall back, fall back. They are reluctant, these sisters and brothers of his, unwilling to fail when freedom is so near. But he is their leader, has slain the one who led them while dying himself. He remembers dying, what it was like as the darkness closed in with sharp claws embedded in his body, a jagged stick his only weapon. Can still smell the scent of blood, now delicious and taunting, on the breath of the hunter as he died. He was chosen by the one who came before and they must obey. And yet there are more gunshots, more lost to the angry, shouting soldiers and their roaring equipment before his will is done.
He turns and returns the way he came, moving fast and staying well inside the trees. If the pack will not listen, he will go alone. It feels fitting somehow, as though alone is his way, so it doesn’t trouble him. Survival is his only desire.
He feels them obey, joining him as ordered. They break and run with him, the hunters now the hunted, spread out but staying close. Dodging, weaving, making their own paths, using tree trunks as leverage to bound over undergrowth and the sides of exposed boulders to reach high limbs for swinging forward.
The sound of pursuit falls behind, even the call of the metal birds above losing volume as the pack surges back into the forest that has sheltered them since they were created.
The edge of the fence looms but he knows escape over it is no longer possible either. He can feel the hum in the air from the deadly rush of power flowing through the steel.
The pack does not pause or take time to regret this truth. They move as one, with him in the lead. Their last chance calls them on, the only other exit so far, yet just within their grasp.
He knows about it because they do, though in his old life he was sure it existed, sought it to no avail.
There is a second gate on the other side of the mountain.
They no longer call to each other, whisper quiet as they run their forced retreat. He lets them slow, stop at the base of the worn cliff towering over them in the dim moonlight.
The large, furred cousins hover close, chuffing softly, heavy bodies impatient, gaping mouths dripping strings of saliva on the ground. And yet they too remain quiet despite their animal natures.
He feels the pressure of light against his skin and looks up. The sun is cresting the tops of the trees, enough his slitted pupils shutter closed, returning his vision to normal. He misses his night vision and the rush it gives him as the orange light chases across the edges of the sky, warm on his skin. As good as it feels, this light is the enemy. They need to move. Daylight will make them more visible to those who track them.
He waits for the last of his siblings to escape before following through the edge of the brush at the bottom of the massive rock face, into underbrush so tight even they have trouble maneuvering. A thin, black gap winks a welcome, his pack sliding inside one at a time. He
goes on, the sudden black no match for the rapid adjustment of his vision. The way is tight but he is liquid and dark and within moments he stands in a stone tunnel.
There is a gap, recently cleared of rock. The pack moves inside, the cousins close on their heels. He knows this place, feels a shudder run through him tied to memory, as quickly forgotten. The rubble is clumsy underfoot even for such as he. But the large room beyond is empty, save for a gap that smells like water and another beckoning him toward a gaping cage door.
It takes four trips to lower them all into the mine. He goes last, choosing to stay, to guard the passage, though doing so means fighting off flickers of memory. Of a small prey child with a broken arm. Of climbing and pain and being wet and cold.
One of his brothers snarls at him, herding him toward the elevator. He snaps back, claws lashing out at such insolence, taking the offender across the side of the face. The other backs down, lets him pass before joining him in the cage for the ride down.
The maze is still and quiet when they reach the bottom, the pack waiting, unmoving and tense.
He takes his place in the front again. They cover ground in a rapid lope, reaching the first crossing within moments. The left branch is sealed, a cave-in obvious from the scent of the dead air. He suffers a moment of choking fear, can taste dust and feel it in his lungs, remembers the sensation of being trapped, sees a pair of sneakers so still in the low light of a flickering bulb. His mind shutters back to the present and discards the memory, instincts carrying him up the right passage.
They leap a narrow chasm and he looks down, expecting the silver eyes of a sibling. But there is no one, just a skim of dust on the stones below. And then they are past, climbing hard, upward and onward. The tunnel is still only faintly lit but he can smell freedom and fresh air and the part of him that was a terrified kid kicks himself for picking the wrong way.
Outside calls to him as strongly as the pull of the pack. He runs on, putting out more speed, eager to return to the forest, uncomfortable with the closed space, the trapped and horrible air below ground.
The tunnel levels off, narrows slightly before widening into a large cavern. He races across it, his siblings around him, toward the glimmer of daylight on the other side.
He runs right to it, pauses just before the exit, falling into a crouch. They gather around him, their bodies close to his, breathing softly around him, filling him with the feel of the pack. But his focus is on the rectangle of shining blue sky and deep green treetops.
“We must stay and wait.” One of his brothers speaks up.
“We must move on.” The same sister as before. She watches, waits.
He knows they are judging him, searching him for weakness. Despite his position, leadership is only his as long as he dominates.
He considers their options. They could stay. Take advantage of the shelter until darkness falls. Even as his mind decides, he feels their impatience, knows their need but feels their hesitation. When the brother who spoke moves to settle in, he chuffs at him. The sibling listens as he knew he would. The rest watch him, restless and unhappy but understanding his dominance.
They could wait until darkness. But it might be too late.
He growls to them to follow. And runs out into the day.
***
Chapter Two
It isn’t until he is running in the sunlight filtering through the heavy canopy that he realizes where he is. His eyes drift sideways, flicker over the cutout pit full of white bones and ash. It’s the first time he registers real emotion and begins to think of himself as human again.
Reid pauses only one moment to look around, feeling bile rise to his throat, a scream of fury right behind it. The pit. The mineshaft. All of it, right there in front of him.
Had they found the exit, he and the kids he ran with, they would have come out of the mountain almost exactly where they went in.
The understanding fills him with so much rage his fists clench. He looks down at his hands, surprise cutting through his anger.
His left curls forward, as human as he remembers. But then again, so is his right.
In fact, his whole body feels different, a rush of release easing a knot of something he didn’t know existed inside him until it flexes and disappears. Reid feels the hunter still within him, his access to his hyper senses even stronger than before. But his body is human again and he is suddenly and violently grateful.
It’s not just his body that’s changed. It’s like his mind has reverted as well. The formality of the hunter mentality has left him, along with the odd, chuffing language. Reid feels almost as if someone else, a perfected version of himself, has just given him back control over his life.
He’s oddly disappointed. At least when he is a hunter everything makes sense.
The pack runs on without him, leaving him behind, flickering ahead through the trees and for a moment he panics. If he is normal again, he is prey. Until he jerks to one side as someone runs past him and sees another kid just like him. Only this guy is dressed in a skin-tight black suit, hood pulled up just like a hunter. But he is human, as human as Reid. He flashes a grin and keeps running.
Reid runs after him, heart pounding hard as he struggles to understand what is happening. For now there are no answers, nor do they matter. All that remains is the pounding of his feet on the ground and the rush of wind over his hot skin.
The others run hard but he catches them easily, even outpaces a few. They are all human, all of them, even the giant creatures he once feared now appearing through the thick trees in flashes of images reverted back to their natural form. Dogs, at least a dozen of them, from German Shepherds to a rangy border collie, all reduced to what they once were.
He runs past a girl who glances at him. Reid is so startled by what he sees he stumbles a moment and hears her laugh. One of her eyes has gone back to a chocolate brown but the other shines silver.
Reid’s blood lust is gone, his stomach wanting to heave at the memory of eating the soft innards of the dead. But he can’t think about that now, can’t retreat into that private hell. Maybe one day, when this is over and if he has survived he will find the time to mourn and weep and maybe even learn to forgive himself all he has done, but for now he must use it or die with it.
He chooses to let it feed him and drive him on.
Reid is still connected to them, can feel the ebb and flow of the pack around him though he no longer thinks of them as siblings. The ones ahead slow and he matches pace, until they come to a halt near a flow of water. He watches them bend to drink, stares into the softly bubbling brook and flashes to the beginning all over again.
Reid is forced to shake his head to break loose of the memory, the thirst, the hunter, the race through the meadow. Finding Scar and Mustache. It’s all right here, in this place. They have come so far, so much farther than he could ever have so quickly, realizing only then how convoluted the path he ran when he was afraid.
So much for his sense of direction.
He is bending to take an empty place, mouth suddenly parched from the memory, when he feels someone approaching at speed. Reid whirls in time, blocks the surging attack of a tall, slim guy with dark hair and a regretful grimace on his face.
Reid lands the first punch, not allowing the other even a chance at defense. The other goes down, hitting his knees hard, blood rushing from his nose. Reid stands over him, fists still clenched, scanning the watching crowd, trying not to shudder from the occasional silver eyes that greet him.
“Want to try that again?”
Hazel eyes glare back. “It’s all your fault. You shouldn’t be here with us. You should be dead and Daryl should be here.” The guy drags himself to his feet and faces Reid down. There is a hungry part of him that absorbs the tangy scent of copper like a drug, distracting him with its delicious promise. “We had a plan and it was working perfectly till you and your friends showed up.” Blood smears over the back of the guy’s hand as he wipes at his nose. “We should kill you
right now.”
Reid feels their animosity, all of them. They’ve finally gotten around to noticing who he is and what he stands for.
It makes his rage rise again. He’s not taking their crap. Not after what he’s been through.
“You’re blaming me.” Reid shoves his opponent hard, one foot snaking out, kicking him to the ground. “You’re really blaming me.” He looks around at the others who stare, some sullen, some with open grins on their humorless faces. “After you chased me and killed my friends and ate them. Tried to kill me.” Reid feels insane laughter bubble, lets it show on his face so even those horrible smirks aimed at him fade away. “Are you freaking serious?” Reid lashes out with one sneakered foot, taking the guy in the side, lifting him from the ground with the power of the blow, hearing the crunch of bone as a couple of ribs relocate themselves. The guy rolls away, groaning, while Reid battles his rage for control.
He looks around at the others, now seeing admiration from some, fear from others. Better. Not ideal. Ideally they would all fear him. And while the part of him that is the old Reid mourns the loss of innocence, he knows he must stay in control here or die.
He’s come too far to die now.
“You make it sound like we had a choice.” The speaker is a girl, the one with the silver eye, long blonde hair tied back in a thick braid. Her skin is pale, though not as fair as Leila’s but reminds him of the girl who has his heart so much he pauses before saying anything back.
“That doesn’t matter anymore.” At least, not at the moment. They have more important things to worry about than fighting among themselves. “We need to get to the gate.” Escape is as necessary as ever. Even more so now. Because he knows if the rest of the pack doesn’t kill him, the soldiers will.
“You’re throwing around a lot of orders.” The voice comes from the back of the pack but Reid knows it, has heard it before, thought it silenced forever by the claws of the hunters. His stomach clenches as the familiar bulky shape of Joel steps out into the full light. The bully’s thick lips twist into that same old shark grin but this time there is genuine hatred behind it. Not teenaged anger or the angst of the young, but deep and primal hate as ageless as the sun.
