Hunting Season (Aurora Sky

by Nikki Jefford

  “I told you, we don’t have time. You can borrow my knife. Now pull off onto the shoulder.”

  I flicked the blinker on and pulled onto the side of the road. Cars zipped past. I imagined running into the road shouting that a killer had kidnapped me. But working for the agency was worse than being held hostage. There was no getting away. Beating them at their own game was the only way out and so far they kept blocking my moves.

  With the car in neutral and hand brake lifted, I jumped down from the Jeep and cast one last wistful glance at traffic.

  I gave Jared a wide birth as we crossed paths in front of the Jeep. He glowered at me as we passed, eyes dropping to my arm. If we weren’t on route to Selene’s, I had no doubt he’d grab me as he’d done at the totem park in Sitka.

  As soon as we were both seated, Jared pulled onto the road in front of another vehicle, speeding up before the driver had a chance to rear end us.

  I forced a neutral look onto my face.

  “They’re dead,” Jared said smugly.

  His eyes were on the road as he sped through traffic until he’d caught up with the SUV. Once he had, he glanced over at me and smirked. “My family. The traitors are dead, and I’m not. Who’s better off now?”

  This didn’t seem like the right time to mention Giselle wasn’t technically dead. I ought to consider myself lucky Jared hadn’t snapped my arm in half. Not yet.

  I’d never forget the way he snapped Henriette’s neck or crushed my arm in his grip when he showed up at the palace and said, “Don’t ever disobey me again.”

  “And no one knows Giselle better than I,” Jared said.

  So he hadn’t forgotten her.

  “If you ever hope to see your partner again, you’re going to need my help.”

  I needed Jared’s help the way a tire needed a nail. What I really wanted was to have him bound and gagged, ready for delivery.

  “You think I’m bad,” Jared said, “but you never witnessed my precious daughter slicing open a victim with her sword. ‘Fastest way to the vein,’ she used to say.”

  And Dante was currently stuck with the psycho vamp. “You said you can help get Dante back. How?”

  “Simple,” Jared said. “We go hunting.”

  My frown deepened. This wasn’t what I had in mind, but if the end result was the same, I guess I could alter my plans. They weren’t exactly going smoothly thus far.

  “Okay, so how do we hunt down a vampire whose whereabouts are completely unknown?”

  “We go to her.” Jared lifted his chin. “You have her phone number. Call her. Tell my precious little pumpkin that you’ve captured me and want to make the swap.”

  “Just like that?”

  Jared grinned. “Just like that.”

  I sat up. Real hope filled my belly. Maybe I would actually manage to rescue Dante before the week was out.

  I moistened my lips. “When?”

  “After you complete your assignment Friday.”

  I sank back into my chair. I wanted to make the call right then and there. Not kill Randal. Not help Melcher corner and coerce Selene. Not kill a house full of vampires. But what choice did I have? Jared wasn’t going to the palace, and he hadn’t given me time to set a trap at Selene’s. Things would go a lot smoother if he arrived at the swap willingly.

  “What happens at the swap?” I asked.

  “I kill her, and we get an agent back.”

  I chewed on my lip. “She’s not just going to let you walk in and kill her.”

  “Never mind that. She’ll come up with a plan, and we’ll let her think she’s the one calling the shots… at first.”

  Everyone seemed to be trying to call the shots on this one. It made me worry about how it would all play out.

  Jared sat back, expressionless.

  I took note of the intersections we passed. As we neared mid-town, the SUV entered a turn-only lane and slowed at the light. Once the light turned green, it passed an industrial area that turned into a neighborhood.

  Most of the homes in the neighborhood we entered were one-story, ranch style, older structures. They were modest and slightly run down with paint peeling from the sidings, but they looked cozy.

  The SUV passed more houses before entering a large parking lot in front of a community center. It stalled in a deserted row in back. Jared pulled the Jeep alongside it and parked.

  “Get out,” he said.

  I glared at him then stepped out of the vehicle. Jared headed me off, opening the backdoor to the SUV.

  “In you go.”

  His tone really annoyed me. I clenched my teeth together. Damn if the mother sucker wasn’t right. I needed him if I wanted to get Dante back.

  I hoisted myself into the SUV, noticing Melcher had a driver beside him in the front.

  Jared quickly got into the back through the opposite door. As soon as the doors were shut, Melcher’s chauffeur drove out of the lot and back through the neighborhood. He slowed when he reached a detached one car garage beside a narrow gray house that reminded me of a trailer.

  Is this where Selene lived? I’d pictured her in something nicer—something more like the palace or lodge, not this modest house. This was worth putting up with her keeper, Randal?

  Perhaps a home was better than nothing, but I thought Selene would have been able to do a lot better.

  The SUV stopped in the road.

  “Take care of Randal and call me as soon as it’s finished,” Melcher said. He lifted his wrist to look at his watch. “It shouldn’t take long.”

  I turned to Jared. “You said you had a knife?”

  “Did I?” he asked, tapping a finger to his corner lip.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah, you did.”

  “Well, I don’t. Guess you’ll just have to find something in the kitchen. Any pointy object will do.”

  “Thanks for nothing,” I grumbled as I exited the vehicle.

  “We’ll be waiting,” Melcher called after me.

  Sure, send the teenager in to do the dirty work.

  When I stepped outside, I caught the scent of wood smoke. It drifted from the chimneys, the only motion on the street in the middle of the day. I noted the house numbers nailed to the side of the house.

  If only I could have one private minute to call Fane and update him on my status. I glanced over my shoulder. The SUV remained idling in the road, probably waiting to make sure I entered the house.

  The front door was in a narrow outer entry between the garage and house.

  I pounded on the wood then wrapped my arms around myself. There were no windows by the door and no way of knowing if anyone was home.

  I didn’t hear footsteps until they were almost at the door. Then they stopped.

  “Who’s there?” a male voice asked sharply.

  “I’m a friend of Selene’s.”

  The sound of a deadbolt clicked. As the door swung back, I saw Randal peering through the frame. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked me over as though regarding a specimen beneath a microscope.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He was about as friendly as the first time I’d met him at the tasting, which was to say—not friendly at all.

  “I’m here to see Selene.”

  “Well, she’s not in at the moment.” Randal began shutting the door.

  “Can I wait for her?” I asked.

  The door froze. Randal eyed my neck.

  “She called you over to feed, didn’t she?”

  “Look, I’m already here,” I said. “Can I just come in and wait until she gets back?” Rather than wait for an answer, I pushed my way into a small mud room. A wood bench and shoe rack lined the wall beside the door.

  Randal wore a dress shirt untucked, probably to try and help hide his protruding gut. As far as I knew, blood wasn’t fattening. He must have retained a hearty appetite even in the afterlife.

  “I don’t have time to entertain Selene’s friends. I work from home, you know. You’re in
terrupting my work day.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What do you do?”

  “Tech support,” Randal answered, puffing up his chest.

  Tech support, not grave robbing. All in all, it didn’t sound like a bad job for a vampire, especially working from home where clients wouldn’t notice he didn’t age.

  All right, Aurora. Time to go for the Achilles heel.

  “Then perhaps you could use a pick me up,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  Randal’s gaze flitted to my neck then back to my face. “I am not in the habit of drinking from strangers.”

  Yeah? And what did he call the wine girls at the lodge? Maybe he was more comfortable paying to suck.

  “Suit yourself,” I said, heading into the house.

  “Hey,” Randal called. “We have a shoes off policy.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned slowly. “Fine.”

  I plopped down onto the bench and yanked off my slip-on shoes. From there I stepped into a connecting kitchen barefoot. This half of the house was all open. The blinds were shut on the windows of the dining room facing the street. To the right, there was a living room furnished with a cream-colored couch, wood coffee table, and medium-sized TV propped on a simple wood stand.

  No, not the posh digs I would have pictured worthy of Selene.

  I returned my attention to the kitchen, into which Randal had followed me. After a quick scan of the countertops, I found what I’d been looking for—a wood knife block filled with black handles jabbing out. I walked up to it and removed one of the blades.

  “What are you doing?” Randal demanded.

  “Opening a vein,” I said, calmly.

  If Randal was the stuffy shoes off kind of guy, he probably preferred a clean cut over biting through.

  Randal stared at me bug-eyed. “We use that for cooking.”

  Yeah, he was anal all right.

  “Relax, I’ll clean it in a moment,” I said.

  “What blood type are you?”

  “Type I don’t know.”

  Randal frowned. “You don’t know your own blood type?”

  “You got a type-O fetish or something?” I asked back.

  Randal scowled. As far as enticing a vampire to bite me went, I wasn’t doing a very smooth job. If I didn’t convince him to bite the bullet soon, Selene would return, and we’d have a real problem on our hands.

  I turned my arm over, wrist facing the ceiling, and traced a blue vein with the tip of the blade.

  Randal leaned forward, suddenly quiet.

  At this point, I hadn’t put any pressure into the stroke. Cutting into myself gave me the willies, but it had to be done. I pressed harder. It stung. Using care, I sliced open the skin above the vein. Blood followed the edges of the knife like ink trailing a pen.

  I set the knife down and balled my hand into a fist, squeezing more blood out. I lifted my wrist.

  “Go ahead. I’ll let you have a taste if you leave Selene and me alone when she returns.”

  Randal’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “I told Selene not to do this kind of thing at my house. She and I are going to have a little chat when she returns.”

  “Well, I’m already here, and I’m bleeding,” I answered sweetly.

  Randal’s eyes narrowed further. “I want you to leave.”

  “Fine,” I said, matching his irritated tone with my own. “Do you have a Band-Aid or something?”

  Randal huffed. “Wait here.”

  He walked through the kitchen and disappeared around a hallway to the right.

  Damn it.

  Did I really have to shove my wrist into his face? Or maybe I should pick the knife back up and go directly for the kill. If Randal fought back, that wouldn’t be fun. He might not have an athletic build, but there was a lot of him than me, and that could present a real problem.

  Picky vampires were the worst.

  Before I could make a decision, Randal returned. He stopped two feet away from me and held out a single Band-Aid.

  I stared at it between his fingers. “How about something to clean up the blood?”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Randal said, sounding more annoyed than ever.

  He moved toward me with sudden speed and grabbed my arm with surprising strength, lifting my wrist to his face. His head bent forward. A warm, wet trail followed his tongue along my cut. Now I really wanted to clean it. I tried to pull my arm away to go for the knife and prepare for the kill, but Randal’s grip tightened.

  He licked again.

  And again.

  But he wasn’t swallowing.

  My nose wrinkled in disgust as his saliva mixed with my blood.

  I yanked my arm back. Randal smacked his lips, a hazy look in his eyes. He swallowed. A moment later, down he went—hitting the kitchen floor with a resounding boom.

  I hadn’t made a vampire convulse in ages. The sight, which had horrified me in the past, gave me sick satisfaction when Randal began to twitch. A second later, the sensation passed. I’d killed way worse vampires than Randal.

  I grabbed the knife, avoiding eye contact as I crouched beside his shaking body. Hand on his chest, I pressed down and felt for his heartbeat. Once located, I let my fingers linger over his racing heart. Time to do the deed. I positioned the tip of the blade over the area of his heart as I’d done above my vein.

  My hand shook.

  I didn’t like Randal, but I didn’t hate him, either. As far as I knew he’d never killed before.

  The knife shivered between my fingers. Randal and I were both shaking.

  A car horn shrieked from outside.

  Really? That was just like Melcher and Jared to signal me to hurry up and kill all ready.

  I grabbed my quivering wrist with my free hand to steady myself. In this manner, I plunged the knife in.

  Randal gasped. When he did, the shaking abruptly stopped. He rose several inches off the floor as though curling into his abdomen. The small checkered boxes on Randal’s shirt filled with blood.

  I got to my feet and backed away, leaving the knife in his heart. Randal clutched the area below the knife, his breaths turning to rasps.

  Instant death was a luxury. Most people fought it—like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to run away from the inevitable.

  I gripped the counter in front of the kitchen sink and leaned forward, sure I was going to hurl into the steel basin. Instead, I dry heaved a couple times. Once finished, I squirted liquid dish soap into my hands—way too much—and spent the next couple minutes drowning out Randal’s gasps, trying to rinse and rub off the thick, slimy goo.

  By the time I shut off the water, Randal was silent.

  I dried my hands on my pants.

  Call Fane, I thought. And tell him what? To bust in on Melcher and Jared single-handed? I might as well tell him to jump off a building. Either one of those actions would result in a broken neck. No, I couldn’t lose Fane, and I needed Jared to get Dante back. Because Jared was right. He was my best bet if I ever wanted to see Dante alive again.

  8

  Recruitment

  Once I gave Melcher and Jared the signal, they entered the house without removing their shoes. I went ahead and slipped mine on. Randal wouldn't mind.

  Jared walked straight up to Randal and glanced down. “You want me to call in the cleaners now or after we talk to the beauty queen?”

  Melcher looked around the dining area, slight frown on his face before taking note of Randal’s body on the kitchen floor. “Call it in,” he said. “I’d prefer they get him out of here before Miss Ericson returns.”

  “Could help motivate her,” Jared said. He pulled his cell phone out, typed quickly and returned it to his blazer pocket.

  “We have all the motivation she needs right here,” Melcher said, removing a large manila envelope from inside his coat. His footsteps creaked over the wood floor as he walked over to Jared and handed him the envelope. “You’ll go over this with Miss Ericson.”

  “What’s i
nside the envelope?” I asked. “A contract?”

  Sign your life away right here next to the X. Yeah, sure. I hadn’t been offered that opportunity. My mom’s hands had been tied. I would have died without her signature.

  What did Melcher have to hold over Selene’s head?

  I didn’t have to wait long to find out. The cleaners arrived within ten minutes of Jared’s call, entering the house in their biohazard gear.

  “Do you keep them on standby or something?” I asked.

  Neither Melcher nor Jared answered. While the cleaners removed the body, they performed a quick search of the house, including the kitchen.

  “Blood bags,” Jared announced, opening and closing the fridge.

  “That’s better than a dead body, right?” I asked.

  Again, no answer.

  I sucked in an exasperated breath and released it slowly. Calming breaths, sure. The company and environment didn’t exactly lend themselves to a Zen moment.

  Randal’s blood had stained the front of his clothes and not the linoleum floor, which made the cleaners’ job extra quick. As far as kills went, it was clean.

  A cell phone rang. Melcher reached inside his suit pocket and answered it. “Very good,” he said before ending the call. He looked at Jared. “She’s on her way.”

  My heart picked up speed. Why did recruitment feel so similar to a kill?

  Melcher went over the plan briefly. He and Jared would stand out of sight. Seeing me inside her house would be enough to startle Selene, but Melcher didn’t want to put her into an all-out panic. At least not at first.

  “What if I wait for her outside?” I asked. “That would be even less startling.”

  “And give you an opportunity to run or warn her off,” Jared said. “Keep dreaming.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You have trust issues.”

  Jared’s forehead wrinkled as he zeroed in on me. “Need I remind you of Giselle?”

  I pressed my lips together.

  “Didn’t think so.”

  As unpleasant as it was biding time with Jared and Melcher, all too soon “she’s on her way” turned into “she’s here.”