Finn saw Kess nod, not really surprised. “You look like you expected it,” he said.
She shrugged, not looking at either of them. “Just some of the stuff he said, there at the end.”
Finn stiffened. “Like what, Kess?” His voice was very close to a growl. This was his friend, not to mention his cousin’s girlfriend, who was being threatened.
Kess huffed out a sigh, a sure sign that she thought he was being ridiculous. “He said that we’ll be seeing each other again very soon.”
“That’s ominous, but not exactly damning. He could just mean another date,” Rafe offered.
“It wasn’t a date!” Kess snapped. Rafe held his hands up in surrender, making Kess grimace. “Sorry.” She put her head back down, talking to her feet. “I was trying to see if Lukas was a were—that would have explained the strange feeling I got from him. But I guess we know now that I was off the mark.”
Finn spoke up. “So we’ve got a were-hunter in the area. We’re assuming he’s got his sights set on you,” he nodded to Kess, “and he’s taken out one of our allies.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What do we know about this guy?”
Kess ticked items off on her fingers. “He says he’s from overseas. He’s been hunting weres for three years. And he’s beyond good if he was able to take out Mebis.”
“We need to find out more about him. Kess, do you remember his address?”
“Yeah, sure. I can probably dig up some stuff in public records on the sale of his condo.”
“Do we know what he hunts with? What his weapon of choice is?” Finn asked.
Kess shook her head. “I didn’t see anything in the room. And the wounds weren’t visible so I can’t tell what killed them.”
The three sat in thought for a few minutes, until Rafe spoke up. “Who’s stuffing the animals?”
“What?” Kess asked.
“Well, he’s got to get them stuffed and mounted somewhere, at least the ones he’s hunted here. He’d need someone local to do the job, wouldn’t he?”
Finn felt his smile wrap around his head. “Rafe, you’re a genius.” The boy smiled back.
“We have to tell Laila,” Kess said, bringing gloom back to the room.
“I’ll do it,” Finn said, getting up from his chair. “She should hear it from me.”
Finn stepped out the door and went out to the backyard. He needed to call Laila, but there was also someone else he needed to speak with and he didn’t want Kess to overhear. He dialed the number and then waited, hoping that his cousin would pick up.
“Hey Finn, what’s up?” Cormac’s voice was a welcome relief. He sounded like his usual self, easy going and relaxed.
Finn didn’t bother to explain; there’d be time enough for that later. “You need to get down here, buddy. Kess needs you.”
“On my way,” was Cormac’s answer and then he ended the call.
Finn looked at his phone, slowly pulling up Laila’s number. He had no idea how she would react to the news of her brother’s death. All he knew was that it would be unpleasant. Possibly for all of them.
Chapter Sixteen
Lukas had been standing at the window for what seemed like only a few moments. He’d watched Kess leave, he’d watched the sun set fully, he’d watched the natural light fade and the unnatural light of neon and South Beach illuminate the night. He watched the people walk the streets, he watched the life going on below him. But most of all he watched the waves. They lulled him into the haunted forest of his memories.
He was fourteen and had surpassed both his father and brother in hunting. There was nothing he couldn’t bring down. His hunts were mostly with friends or distant family members; he’d not gone hunting with his father and brother since that disastrous trip years ago. Peter had stopped hunting entirely. No one talked about it, but the awkward silences hinted that everything was not well. Lukas followed the rest of his family’s lead and did his best to ignore it.
It was autumn and his brother was home from university. Lukas had actually missed Peter; they’d grown apart over the years, but Lukas still loved his brother. Despite the distance their father had put between them, he was looking forward to seeing Peter again.
He was still shocked when his brother suggested they go hunting over the weekend. Lukas thought it might be some kind of joke. “Just you and me?”
Peter grinned. “Yes, just you and me. Who else would you want to invite?”
The horrible trip flashed before his eyes once again. “Nobody,” he answered with a grin. He couldn’t believe he would get to go hunting with his brother. The rare invitation was not lost on him. Peter didn’t hunt anymore, and he tended to spend a lot of his free time from school with his friends.
“Leave at first light?”
Lukas nodded. It surprised him that his brother would invite him to go rather than their father. But Lukas took it for the compliment it was. It would be good to spend time alone with his brother.
* * * * *
Lukas sat in one of the hard chairs of the emergency room, his elbows resting on his knees while his hands dangled between them. The bright lights of the waiting room buzzed like a hive of insects overhead; one was flickering so that it felt like he had a nervous tic. His parents had come in hours ago. His mother sat two seats over from Lukas, while his father paced the floor waiting for the surgeon to come out.
Lukas didn’t remember much about the hunting trip. He had perfect recall of getting into the car with his brother. They’d set out before the sun was even up in order to be in position before the animals were really active. Peter was driving. They’d joked about the drive and who got to pick the music on the stereo. They’d arrived at their favorite hunting spot while it was still dark and pulled out their gear from the boot of the car.
He didn’t remember much after that. At least not until he was in the hospital waiting room and his father was screaming questions and curses at him. Lukas remembered looking up with a dull sort of awareness at the noise, taking a long time before he realized it was directed at him. He’d looked around in a daze, absently rubbing at the dried blood on his shirt.
Lukas remembered answering the questions from the police officer. The officer had tried to get him to drink coffee, but Lukas had refused. He didn’t like coffee. There were questions about the hunt, lots of questions, which Lukas did his best to answer, but there was nothing but a red blank where his memories of the hunt should have been. Eventually a nurse had a doctor come and talk with the police officer. Lukas overheard words like shock and coherent and other things that made him wonder what was going on, but he didn’t focus on that long.
He looked around for Peter. He didn’t know where his brother had gone.
His mother slid into the chair beside him, placing a hand on his knee. Lukas looked over at her, saw her eyes brimming over with tears that threatened to spill over, like the overfull banks of a lake. He looked up to see his father talking to a doctor. He saw the doctor’s expression, so earnest and sad. Lukas saw his father wiping at his eyes.
“Peter?” he whispered to his mother, who put her arm around him.
She shook her head, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Peter won’t be coming with us.”
She got him to his feet. A nurse stopped over with a wheelchair but he waved them away. He was fine. He just wished he could remember what had happened with the hunt. He heard the nurse ask his mother if she was sure they didn’t want to keep him overnight for observation. His mother told the nurse no and led him out to the car, settling him against the backseat.
“Where’s Pop?” he asked.
“He’s going to stay at the hospital a little while longer.” Her voice was ragged and soft, like a rip in his favorite denims. He liked that sound. He leaned back against the seat.
“With Peter.”
A choking noise, almost like a sob. “Yes. With Peter.” She put the car into gear and eased them out of the hospital parking area.
Lukas’ head bobbed on hi
s neck, as though he couldn’t possibly hold it up any longer. His nose caught the faint scent of musk—an animal scent, probably boar. He found himself gagging at the thought, but couldn’t place why. He’d never had a problem with boar before. He fell asleep still trying to figure out his strange reaction to the animal smell.
His mother shook him gently back to wakefulness. Lukas followed her inside the house, feeling like his head was filled with pillow stuffing. He climbed the stairs to his room, shucking clothes as he went. His mind kept trying to figure out what was wrong, why everything felt so strange, and where Peter was, but the thoughts just wouldn’t stick. Everything kept sliding away from him.
Lukas fell into bed in nothing but his undershirt and underwear. He was asleep once more before his mother had even finished collecting his discarded clothes and turning off his light.
They were in the woods—deep in—at least several miles from their car. It was a spot not many knew of, if anyone at all, and they guarded the secret place jealously. Not even their father knew about this spot. Peter had discovered it perhaps a year, no more than two, years ago. He had brought Lukas out here maybe once or twice.
The game this deep in was plentiful and varied. They’d seen bear and deer, the odd boar or wild pig, pheasants, rabbits, and other small animals, all of which were good eating. They set up their stands, making sure everything blended into the forest as seamlessly as possible. They would be here a while, so they did what they could to make themselves comfortable.
Lukas set up his rifle, making sure everything was well-oiled, loaded, and within easy reach. He could see several game tracks crisscrossing the area around them; this was a junction for several types of animals. So there was probably water nearby.
“Want to set some snares too?” Peter asked, his hands full of wire.
Lukas shrugged. A rabbit or two would always be welcomed at home, especially if they’d chosen a rotten luck location. “Sure.”
Peter was gone for less than an hour. He’d wanted to move far enough away so they didn’t trip up any of the larger animals; the real trophies of tonight’s hunt. He signaled to Lukas that all was in readiness and they took up their positions.
The day passed slowly. Nothing worth shooting came by the stands, so they sat, using hand signals to talk. This was so much better than the last hunting trip he’d taken with Peter and Pop, he didn’t want it to end. At the thought of Pop, his mouth drew down into an intense frown. He didn’t like to think about it.
It was mid-afternoon when Peter signaled that they should call it a day. They climbed down from their stands, taking a few moments to stretch muscles stiff from keeping still for hours on end. “You pack up the gear,” Peter said. “I’ll go check the snares.”
He took his rifle and a sack for whatever they might have caught. Lukas watched him go before busying himself with his own rifle and their supplies. His hands moved mechanically while his mind wandered. Even if they hadn’t caught anything, it was still a good day in Lukas’ book. He’d been hunting alone for the past several years, or on the rare occasion with his friends. They weren’t serious about hunting like his family was though, and they usually never came back with the kind of meat that Lukas did when he set out alone.
He heard a scream from the direction that Peter had gone. Before he even realized it, Lukas was running along the game track, his rifle clutched in a death grip in his hand. The scream hadn’t been that far away but it seemed to take forever to make any progress over the uneven ground. He was making a huge racket, smashing through branches and underbrush, not even trying for stealth.
The track opened up a bit and Lukas caught sight of a snare. He pushed on as another scream sounded, much closer to him now. A final burst of speed carried him up a small rise and into a copse of trees.
Lukas froze at the sight before him. Peter lay on the ground, his upper thigh spurting blood that his brother tried to staunch with his hands. His rifle lay some feet away, nowhere near where he lay. But most mind-numbing was the sight of a boar, one tusk coated red from where it had gored his brother. Blood streamed down its side where Peter must have hit it before he lost his rifle.
The boar was coming at him, hooves thudding dully into the ground like mallet strikes. Lukas watched it, feeling disconnected from his body. Time slowed down; the animal appeared to be running through water. Lukas had plenty of time to raise the rifle, close one eye and sight along the barrel. He took a breath, held it, and squeezed the trigger. Time sped back up.
The boar dropped.
Lukas kept hold of his rifle. Those movies where the hero drops his weapon to help his fallen comrade always struck him as deeply stupid. You never drop your weapon, even if the enemy is dead. He walked over to the body, to make sure the boar was dead. He saw his shot had taken it right in the heart. To be sure though, Lukas took aim again, the tip of the rifle’s barrel against the boar’s head. He fired.
Nothing. The boar was dead.
His brother was making moaning sounds as Lukas hurried over to him. Lukas placed his rifle in easy reach, then put his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Let me see,” he yelled, trying to get Peter to listen.
Peter’s eyes flashed open. “Luke?”
“Yeah.” He already had his knife out and was cutting strips off of his sack to make bandages.
The leg wound wasn’t good. The tusk had gotten an artery from the way the blood was flowing in spurts. Lukas tied a bandage around Peter upper thigh, right above the gash, and hunted for a sturdy stick. Finding one, he began to tighten the bandage, forming a tourniquet. Peter might lose his leg, but at least he wouldn’t bleed out right here. Lukas hoped so, anyway.
“You killed it,” his brother whispered, dropping back with a weak groan. Lukas put bloody fingers to Peter’s neck. It was thready and fast. He was probably going to go into shock soon. Lukas stripped off his jacket and draped it over his brother to keep him warm.
“Yeah,” Lukas said absently, his mind on other things. He pulled out his cell phone. No service this deep in the woods. He ripped off some more makeshift bandages from the sack and packed them over the wound. “Hold these down as best you can.”
“Okay,” Peter whispered. His face was pale and sweating, his lips grey. Not good.
Lukas ran through the copse of trees, looking for tree limbs that he could use to fashion a litter. It wasn’t ideal, but he needed to be able to move Peter and it was obvious his brother was not up to moving himself. He’d have to drag him until he reached someplace that had signal; failing that he’d need to drag him back to the car if he could manage it.
He gathered everything in his arms that he would need and dumped them next to his brother. He took off his overshirt and began to cut it into strips that he could use to bind the whole thing together. It wouldn’t be the most beautiful thing in the world, but it would have to do. As he worked, Lukas would check on Peter, talking to him, taking his pulse. His brother was growing weaker by the second.
Lukas managed to get him situated on the makeshift litter with a minimum of screaming, then hoisted it up. It was going to hurt, jarring Peter and his torn up leg all over the trail, but it couldn’t be helped. He could only hope his brother lost consciousness soon. He left Peter’s rifle behind, but had his slung across his back.
Everything was getting hazy by the time he’d managed to get a signal and call a medic. Lukas kept going, only able to put one foot in front of the other. He’d made it his goal to get to where they parked—that’s where he’d told the dispatcher they’d be. He didn’t even try checking on Peter anymore; if he stopped, he didn’t think he would have it in him to get started again.
Lukas nearly fainted with relief when he saw Peter’s car. He dropped his end of the litter and went to check on Peter, but when he went to feel for a pulse all he saw was blood…
“Peter!” Lukas woke up shouting, thrashing out of the bedclothes. He looked around wildly, the dream still having hold of him. He finally registered the dresser and
mirror and bed, the walls and pictures posted to them. He sagged back onto the bed, his hands over his mouth as he tried not to vomit. Then he saw the dried blood beneath his fingernails, blood that didn’t belong to an animal, but to his older brother.
He barely made it to the bathroom in time.
Chapter Seventeen
Laila blew through the door of the house before Finn even knew she was in town, intent on murdering Kess. The call to tell her that Mebis was missing and presumed stuffed had not gone well, not that he’d expected it to. When he told her that Mebis might be in trouble, she’d gone quiet. Deathly so. He’d explained their suspicions about the hunter, but all Laila had said was “Okay.”
It was nearly one in the morning when Laila burst in. She must have taken the last flight out—or possibly teleported, Finn wouldn’t put it past her with all the weird stuff she knew—to get to Miami from New Orleans so quickly. Finn tried to derail her on her way down the hall to Kess’ bedroom, but the werejackal assassin was having none of it.
“Out of the way, Finn,” she snarled. “Don’t make me move you.”
From anyone else, Finn would have laughed at the threat. Laila was only a little over five feet tall, so Finn towered over her by almost an entire foot. But Finn had seen his girlfriend in action on several occasions and he knew just how capable of inflicting grievous bodily injury she was. Laila could probably put him through a wall without even breaking a sweat. It was one of the things he loved most about her.
Finn stepped aside, but matched pace with her. “Laila, I know you’re mad but you need to rein it in. We’ve got this under control, but going off on Kess is not going to help things.”
Laila ignored him, stalking down the hallway until she stopped before Kess’ door. Before she got a chance to pound on it, the door swung open. Kess stood there, fully clothed, obviously expecting Laila and her temper. She gestured them inside and closed the door.
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