THE CRIMSON HUNT
(Book One of the Eldaen Light Chronicles)
By Victoria H. Smith
THE CRIMSON HUNT
Copyright © 2012 by Victoria H. Smith
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Victoria H. Smith
Cover design by Michelle Johnson
Cover photo by Flashon Studio
Editing by Marcie Turner
Layout by Everything Indie | http://www.everything-indie.com
Dedicated to the hubs, because you’re a rockstar for listening to me babble on about my twenty-something characters.
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Epilogue
Bonus Scene
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Other books by Victoria H. Smith
A sample of Holiday Fling
A sample of Ocean Kills, by Jade Hart
A sample of The Truths about Mating and Dating, by Jaycee Delorenzo
Prologue
Lights flashed in the night while smoke and the calls of the public service men and women filled the air. A gentle Californian breeze wafted the cloudy smoke and ash about the palms, and in the midst of it all, a little girl’s gurney was rushed into the back of a red and white ambulance.
With the little girl and the EMTs secure in the back, the officer closed the back door. He gave it three swift pats and said, “You’re all set, Steve.”
Making eye contact with the officer from the side view mirror, the EMT known as Steve waved out the window.
As the engine of the ambulance revved up, the officer glanced into the back window. The EMTs tended to the girl. They already had her hooked up with medical tubes, and her abdomen had been bandaged in gauze wrappings. Despite the chaos she was calm, her hand secured tightly around something which had a long chain. The officer wondered if that was the source which kept her so relaxed. The object of her strength. He hoped she had at least that. She would need it once she found out the news. She had a long road ahead of her, and unfortunately, she would be doing it alone.
As the ambulance pulled away her little eyes opened. Blue. Just like the brightest of skies.
The officer watched as the flashing ambulance carrying her headed down the road. Turning the pedestrian filled street corner, the vehicle left his sight.
Letting out a breath, the officer retrieved his clipboard from his black and white squad car. As he drew up the inevitable paperwork, a tap on his shoulder took his attention.
A short, dark haired man dressed in a navy-colored uniform came up to his side. The man was the officer’s partner of five years. “Tough night, huh?” he asked, his voice full of the sadness that filled the air.
“The toughest,” the officer confirmed.
“You think she’ll be okay?”
Lifting his head from his work, the officer gazed at the charred ruins that used to be the young girl’s home. The coroner was still there as the water continued to attack the flames of the bayside residence. The officer shook his head. The girl will probably be too young to even remember the funeral. Perhaps, that was for the best.
“With time,” he said, “I think she will be.”
“Were there any survivors?”
The enchanting voice came behind. When the officer turned he saw her. She stood in an all-black, one-piece suit, stiletto boots, which were more commonly seen frequenting Rodeo Drive than a residential area at 2:00 a.m., on her feet. The officer would have taken more notice to her choice of attire if he could’ve focused on anything else but her face. Her features were angelic, her hair a short, platinum blonde. She was absolutely beautiful. In fact, she was so stunning her features could’ve challenged a goddess, but as the officer stared into her eyes her appeal dimmed under his gaze. A striking midnight blue, her eyes were just as exquisite as her features. But what put the officer off was her stare. There was a darkness there, deep in the hue. She gazed at him as if he was filth. What had he done to warrant such a look from this beautiful woman?
The officer’s partner gazed at the woman, struck mute just as he was. Dampening his lips, he said, “Actually—”
“No.” The officer blinked at his sudden response. The word, which came from his lips, was automatic. Why had he said that? What confused him further was: why had he lied?
If the woman’s stare was dark before, it was even darker now. Her eyes scanned him, blazing over him like a heat ray.
Could she tell he lied?
His partner watched him and the woman with furrowed brows, not saying a word.
Crossing her arms, the woman blinked once casually. The officer immediately knew when he passed whatever test this woman had him under because the heat left his face.
Her expression and stare both eased. They became so relaxed they were almost … content. “Tragic,” she tsked, shaking her head slowly. “Such a pity.”
With no more words, the woman turned on her heel. She left the officer and his partner with nothing to do but study the finesse in her stride. She walked in the most graceful fashion ever imagined: agile and cat-like with every step. Who was she?
Weaving through the crowds of public service men and women, the woman made it to the surrounding pedestrians. Cutting through them just as effortlessly, she faded away into the darkness of the night.
The officer’s partner bit his knuckles. “Damn.” He shook his head. “God, an ass on that one, right? And that face?” He gave a short whistle.
She had something about her all right, but her features seemed to have been the only thing beautiful about her.
His partner patted his chest. “Hey, so why did you lie to her?”
Glancing back down at his clipboard, the officer gripped his pen. “I don’t know. I guess I just felt the need to protect the girl.”
“Protect her?”
Gazing up, he stared into the darkness. The woman was long gone, but the effects of her presence lingered inside his gut. His stomach turned like she’d induced a sickness that wouldn’t let up. “Yeah.” He glanced his partner’s way. “Judging by the outfit, she was probably a reporter or something, and that’s the last thing that little girl needs tonight. That woman can get her story tomorrow, like everyone else.”
His partner nodded. “Good idea. And it’s not like the chief can get on you for it anyway, eh? Last day of the job does have its advantages.”
The officer smirked. “Right.”
“And South Africa ….” He whistled. “Still don’t know what possessed you to head out there.”
Done with the paperwork, the officer tossed the clipboard into the window of his squad car. “Ang wants to continue her missionary work out there since she has family that way, and with the raids they could use some more manpower.”
“Yeah, but that shit is dangerous man. Those fires and bombings. No place to raise a family.”
“Ang and I won’t be having children for a while. In the meantime, we could both be helping the people out there.”
His partner nodded.
“And who knows, maybe I could prevent something like what happened tonight from happening to another little girl.”
His partner’s expression grew somber. “Yeah, hopefully. That little girl will, unfortunately, have a lot to deal with in her days ahead. And none of it will be easy.”
The officer’s eyes flickered to a gleam in the distance ahead. Seeing two bright, midnight-colored lights, chills shot down his spine.
That had to be a dog. Right?
His partner gripped his shoulder. “Ryan?”
Shaking the frigid feeling off, he focused on his partner. “The girl will have a lot to deal with, but hopefully … not tonight.”
Chapter One
“Hey, loser, would you keep it steady on your end?” Piper asked with a huff. “You’re wobbling more than a frat boy after last call.”
I looked around my edge of the couch with incredulous eyes, unable to believe her nerve. I shouldered most of the weight. “Well, maybe if you put out that frickin’ cigarette and gave me some help—”
“Hey, easy with the attitude.” She continued to speak out the side of her mouth, a smoke cloud curling from her lips. “You should be kissing my feet right now. If not for me, we would have paid twice the amount he was asking for this damn thing.”
Her grin was smug as she puffed on her cigarette, or as she liked to call them, “ciggies.” One week-long excursion in Europe last spring break that almost resulted in an arrest involving a monkey and a pretty wigged out local, and the girl thought she was cultured.
I waved my hand in front of me, deflecting the vile fumes.
“You aren’t going to make a habit of smoking those things in the house, right?” After two long years of putting up with people sneaking smokes in the dorms, it would be nice to finally have an option of whether or not I would die from second-hand smoke.
Piper whipped around her firecracker-red bob like I just asked her to give me her soul for safekeeping.
“So we’re establishing house rules, now, are we?” she asked. “How about this?” She set down her end of the couch, forcing me to drop mine. She made a sloppy scout’s honor sign with her fingers—as if I’d ever believe she’d been a Girl Scout. “I promise not to smoke in the house, if you promise not to have a stick up your ass the entire time we’re living together.”
The girl really was as sweet as sugar. “Well, since we’re creating terms, how about you abide by one of my own? I promise not to have a stick up my ass, if you promise not to bring a new guy into the house every other night … or if you so choose to do so, at least grant me the common courtesy of playing your music loud enough so I don’t have to listen to all the moaning and groaning.”
I held out my hand for her to shake. She wasn’t the only one who was good at this game.
She propped her hands on her hips and tapped her foot, looking to the sky while she considered my terms.
“Touché, my friend. You got yourself a deal.” She shook my hand, smiling.
I didn’t know how we did it, but we managed to get the blasted thing all the way up our creaky, splintered front stoop and into the living room without killing ourselves. And we managed to save the fifty bucks it would have cost to hire a moving service. Although I suspected the only reason Piper suggested calling movers was so she could sit in a lawn chair in her bikini and sip lemonade while staring at their asses.
“Thank God!” Piper collapsed on the couch, sending a cloud of dust into the air. She waved a hand in front of her face to clear the particles from her vision. “I guess we can get a slipcover or something.”
She put her hands behind her head, daring to lean back onto the leisure item.
I’m so not going to comment on that right now. I joined her, leaning my head on her shoulder as I admired our hard work. The room really did open up once everything was inside. When we first leased this house from Campus Rentals, it hadn’t been much to look at; now, it almost felt like home. Sure, none of the furniture matched, the paint was chipping off the walls, and the place smelled a little of stale beer, but the house was ours.
I took in a deep breath, but the beer smell and dust caused me to exhale, mid-breath, sending my body into a coughing fit.
Raising her eyebrows, Piper crossed her long, slender legs. Her stylish, black combat boots made a heavy thump as they hit the coffee table. “Say no to drugs, my friend.”
She laughed and put her cigarette out on the arm of the couch. Seeing my outraged expression, she raised her shoulders. “One more burn won’t make a difference.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t hurt to try and keep what we have as nice as possible. Unless you’re going to pay for a new one?” It wasn’t every day local hobos had yard sales. We’d been lucky to snag the one we got. I had to practically assault an old lady to get it. She hadn’t left us alone until I offered her a coupon for a free tube of pleasure gel I swiped from Piper. Speaking of, I hoped she didn’t make for her purse anytime soon.
Piper sighed. “Whatever, Ariel. Just loosen up. We got our own place now. Enjoy it and relax.”
She was right. I needed to relax. Things could have been worse. I didn’t know what I’d do if I had to spend another year in those damned dorm rooms. I was starting to feel like an old schoolmarm the way I was telling people to shut the hell up on a daily basis. I kicked off my sneakers and bent my toes forward into points. Feeling a pop in my foot, I jolted into a standing position.
The searing pain when my foot hit the floor made me cringe.
“Whoa. Are you okay?” Piper asked, wide-eyed.
“My feet just realized I had been standing all day, is all.” I tried to laugh it off. “I’m going to go walk around the house a bit, maybe that will help.” I moved toward the stairwell stepping over Piper’s legs.
“Okay, then. Wait, where’s your necklace?” she asked.
A rush of blood went straight to my head as I moved my hand to my chest. I immediately searched the room, throwing pillows and textbooks in my wake.
“Don’t panic, A. We’ll find it.”
Too late. I dove behind Piper’s life-size Superman statue, ripping the cords out of a box labeled Computer behind it. Piper worked on the next box labeled Piper’s Crap.
I finished mangling my box and rose up, hitting my head on Superman’s ass. “Ouch!”
I grabbed my head, while making my way across the room on my hands and knees. “Piper, you need to get that damn thing out of here. It’s an eyesore!”
Normally, Piper would have come back at me with a smart remark, but she knew the seriousness of the situation. If she came at me with more than, “Ariel, you sure look beautiful today,” I would have ripped her a new one. I prided myself on being pretty laid back, but when I panicked, that was another story. It was best she kept her distance, and she knew it.
Piper saw the rapid approach of my psychotic breakdown as I continued my quest. She quickened her pace to aid me, mangling another box labeled School Crap. Another one of her brilliantly labeled boxes I was sure.
“When was the last time you saw it?” she asked. “You know, I bet it might be out front. You brushed up against the wall trying to—”
I ran outside. My pupils reacted harshly
to the rays of the sun and I covered my eyes with the back of my hand. My vision masked, I tripped and hit the ground so hard my head felt the impact. It didn’t matter. I was headed to the ground to continue my search anyway. The fall just made my trip that much easier.
My fingers scurried through the brush on the walk. I took in a deep breath when I saw a glimmer in the un-trimmed hedge. It was a miracle I even saw it, with how tall the blades were that day.
I heard the sound of Piper’s boots hitting the ground as she joined me. I glanced up to see the pink material of her bare midriff top blowing in the wind.
She bent down, holding her knees at my level. “See, there it is. You had no reason to panic. Ariel, you’re such a spaz sometimes.”
I barely heard her, still in full panic mode.
She placed her hand on my shoulder. “That old thing really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
I nodded, closing my eyes as I gripped the octagonal silver emblem. I slid my thumb across the cool moonstone mounted in the center as I continued to calm down. Opening my eyes, I witnessed the swirl of blue inside the stone which sparkled from the few rays of sunshine that made it through the maple canopy. The rounded, eight-point silver mounting still took my breath away with its incandescent shine. I could feel them. I could feel their arms around me again. Relief set in as I pushed myself to my knees. My fingers studied the clasp, analyzing the problem.
Piper waved her hand in front of my face. “Hey, are you okay? Earth to Ariel!”
I ran my hand through my hair. “I’m fine,” I assured her, having finally regained the mental capacity to speak. “The stupid clasp broke.”
“Hmm. Well you probably shouldn’t wear it again … you know, until you can get it fixed. You don’t want to make things worse by losing it.”
As much as I wished she wasn’t, she was right.
“Yeah. I guess I’ll keep it in my drawer until I can get it fixed.” The necklace was better there than me trying to play doctor on it with my nail tweezers.
The Crimson Hunt Page 1
