Hunter's Need

by Shiloh Walker

  “I don’t know.”

  He glanced at her. “There has to be something.”

  She shrugged and pushed her hair back from her face. Off to her left, golden sunlight was starting to stream through the blinds, falling across her face.

  “The first time I talked to him, I felt something. I don’t know what, really.” She touched her tongue to her lips, remembered that flash she’d seen—a woman. For just a split second, she’d thought she’d seen a woman out of the corner of her eye when she talked to Paul that first time. “I’m not sure, but I think maybe I saw her. And I don’t think too many people see her. Maybe that’s why.”

  Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, she said, “If that’s not it, then I don’t know. I’ve seen him a few times since then, talked to him. But that first time was the only time I saw her—or maybe saw her.”

  “What were you talking to him about?”

  “Nothing.” She slid her hands into the pockets of the hoodie, staring off into nothingness. “He asked for money. I gave him what I had. Got fussed at for doing it, too. A friend from work saw me talking to him, saw me give him the money, and she told me to keep my distance.”

  “Why? He dangerous?”

  “She thought so, I guess. But he wasn’t.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, tugging on it absently. “He’s kind of a local legend. Homeless, wanders the city. Some people seem to think he’s crazy, but I don’t think so. He’s not entirely connected to the here and now, but he’s not crazy.”

  “So what do you know about him?”

  Ana lifted a shoulder. “Back in the seventies, he was in the air force, lived at the base here. Met Marie, dated her . . . then she disappeared. He was under suspicion for a while, but cleared of any charges. He left for a while, made his way back up here.”

  “None of that tells me why people think he’s crazy—or why you disagree.”

  She scowled at him.

  Duke just barely managed to keep from grinning at her. He’d take that scowl over the blank, cool exterior of the ice princess. “People probably think he’s crazy because he talks to thin air, wanders around town talking to a woman who’s been missing, presumed dead for thirty years. I know he’s not crazy . . . and I suspect he was talking to her ghost, not thin air. I think he could see her.”

  “Why would he see her? Or rather, why would she appear to him? Think she was haunting him?”

  “No . . . I think she couldn’t let him go any more than he could let go of her,” she said softly. “Or maybe she couldn’t move on unless he did the same, moved on with his life, let her go.”

  “You think maybe she expected you to help him move on?”

  Ana shrugged. “I have no earthly idea, Duke.”

  ANA smothered a yawn behind her hand and watched as Duke prowled the small alley between storefronts where she had often run into Paul. “I don’t know how much longer you plan on pacing the alley, but I’ve got to be at work in less than thirty minutes.”

  Duke grunted. “You got any vacation time coming?”

  “Haven’t we already talked about this, Duke?” Tired, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ve got a job. I’ve got responsibilities.”

  “I’m aware of that. But jobs often come with little perks like time off.”

  “Yes, they do . . . and I just took two days last week. I can’t take any more right now.” She tucked her hands inside the pockets of her jacket and tried not to shiver. Summer was close to over. Already the early morning air had that chilly bite to it and it wouldn’t be too long before she had to bring out the winter coat. The coat, boots, gloves, hat, scarf . . .

  “If you’re right about the ghost wanting you to help with Paul, then you’re going to have to work that into your little list of responsibilities, princess.” He stopped pacing and turned to face her, a somber look on his face. “If she singled you out, you have to try and help. You owe her that much.”

  She glared at him. She really didn’t need him pointing that out to her. “I did what I’m capable of—I got a Hunter here. That’s all I can do.”

  “Liar.” He closed the distance between them and curled a hand over the back of her neck. “Marie wasn’t pissed at me. She didn’t come looking for me. She went looking for you. So that must mean there’s something else you can do.”

  Folding her arms over her chest, she held stiff as he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her lips. “I need to get to work.”

  Duke sighed against her lips and then stepped back, letting her go. As his hand fell from her neck, she backed up one step, then a second. She breathed a little easier, but not by much. “You head on to work . . . but, Ana, we’ve got to work through this. If there was something we were supposed to do, we have to figure it out, get it done.”

  She wrapped her arms around her midsection and stared at him, feeling so useless. So completely pointless. “Duke, I’m not supposed to do anything here. I don’t know how to handle anything like this. That’s why I called you.”

  “But it wasn’t me that she expected to help. It was you, Ana.”

  “I bet she’s wishing she’d thought otherwise right now.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “This isn’t for me, Duke. I’m sorry, but it’s not.”

  He gazed at her, his dark gray eyes somber. “You’re wrong, Ana.”

  SHE walked away from him at a brisk pace, so quick, like she was desperate to get away from him.

  She was still mad. Duke didn’t give a damn what she said, her actions spoke a lot louder than her words and she was keeping him at a serious distance. “She’s just going to have to get over it,” he muttered, shaking his head.

  He wasn’t going to let her push him off indefinitely. No fucking way.

  He finally made himself turn away as she joined with the early morning flow of foot traffic. Staring into the alley, he opened himself up, unsure of what he should look for, where he should find it. Or if he even could find it.

  He sensed nothing there, at least nothing out of the ordinary. Scents, all of them normal, nothing seeming out of place. Noises—the sound of car engines, the low murmur of voices. Life. Just the normal sounds of life.

  Nothing at all otherworldly, nothing that hinted at the watchful presence of any kind of ghost, no lingering scent of power that might indicate some other player in the game. Nothing.

  “Gotta be something,” Duke muttered, pacing in a tight, constrained circle. There was always some kind of clue. He shoved his hair back from his face and finally stormed out of the alley.

  Maybe if he headed back to where the bodies had been found—yeah. The girl and Paul—their deaths, he’d felt them. He wasn’t feeling a damn thing here, but maybe if he went back there and prowled around, he’d find something. Yeah, that was what he needed to do. No matter what this ghost seemed to expect from Ana, Duke needed to focus on the job, do some investigating.

  Good, old-fashioned investigating. He glanced in the direction where he’d last seen Ana before heading the opposite way. He took exactly one step and then stopped, turning back. His heart slammed up into his throat as his eyes locked on an insubstantial form. Silvery and wavery, almost like a heat mirage off in the distance. Except this heat mirage wasn’t off in the distance and it was human-shaped. Human-shaped and drifting down the road.

  In the same direction Ana had gone.

  His lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl.

  A couple of people shot him an odd look and several cut a wide path around him. He didn’t notice as he started down the sidewalk, following that insubstantial shape. It walked through people and they never saw it, although each and every one of them shivered, like they were cold.

  “A ghost,” he muttered. He was tailing a fucking ghost.

  It came to a halt just outside the building where Ana worked and Duke halted five feet back. His gut turned to ice as the thing turned to face him—no. Not thing. Woman. It was a woman.

  Off to their left was a mirrored store window. Duke
could see himself clearly, plain as day. And he could see her—her reflection looked a lot more substantial than she did. A lot more real. A lot more human.

  She looked like the girl who’d died—the one he hadn’t been able to save. The resemblance was eerie.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  A woman who was walking down the sidewalk shot him a sidelong glance, but he ignored her.

  In the mirrored surface of the window, the ghost stared at him solemnly.

  “It’s too late.”

  “If it was too late, you wouldn’t have woken her up this morning and scared her to death. If it was too late, you wouldn’t be following her. I’m asking again—what do you want?”

  She sighed. Duke felt the change in the air around them. He wasn’t prone to feeling cold, but as the temperature seemed to plummet, he found himself suppressing a shiver. Her image wavered in the reflection before settling back to its normal state. “I want him stopped. He’s already hurt so many girls . . . I want him stopped.”

  “You’re not talking about Paul, are you?”

  “Paul . . . ” Her eyes closed. When they opened, Duke found himself staring into her bereft eyes. A sound escaped her, soft and bereft, achingly lonely. “Why didn’t she help him? Why didn’t you help her?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry—”

  She laughed. It was an ugly sound, bitter and heavy, and it dug into him like an ice pick gouging inside his skull. “Sorry—they are sorry, Paul.”

  Duke sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. When he dropped it, only years and years of controlling his instincts kept him from reacting—only that practice kept him jerking away, maybe even running away with his tail tucked between his legs. She was there—right in front of him and moments ago, she’d been ten feet away.

  Now she was right in his face, and she looked a lot more substantial. He found himself staring into eyes that were deep, dark and pupil-less, like gazing into an endless, starless, moonless night. She laughed and he felt the icy chill of her laughter like a cold wind, blowing his hair back from his face, stinking of death and decay. “Sorry. It means less than nothing. Help her find him. Then you have to stop him. That will mean something—that would mean everything.”

  Her voice faded away. She faded away. As he stared at the place where she’d stood, a shiver ran down his spine. He shoved aside the uneasiness. It was just uneasiness—Duke would be damned if he was actually afraid of a ghost.

  A ghost—

  “Give me a psychotic vamp any day of the week,” he grumbled. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Ana wanted to spend the day working—that was just fine. Let her take another day to delude herself into thinking she didn’t have everything to do with this mess.

  Duke was going to do some work of his own, some of that good, old-fashioned investigating. Figure out everything he could about this Marie, about Paul. Figure out a way to convince Ana that she couldn’t just turn a blind eye to her part in this.

  “Man, what a fucking mess.”

  Preoccupied, he started down the street and then came to an abrupt stop as he realized he had an audience. The woman’s graying dark hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail and she wore a brightly colored tunic. Her round face was creased with a grin and it only widened when their gazes locked. She tapped her finger to her temple and said, “I talk to myself all the time, too.”

  Then she laughed and walked off.

  Duke scowled. Under his breath, he repeated, “A fucking mess.”

  DUKE, I’m not supposed to do anything here. I don’t know how to handle anything like this. That’s why I called you.

  But it wasn’t me that she expected to help. It was you, Ana.

  Stop it, Ana, she thought. Tucking her hair back behind her ear, she clocked in and slipped out of the break room. She needed to get to her desk, get her mind on work and just not think about Duke. Not think about the ugly cold shroud that still gripped her from yesterday, not think about her early morning encounter with a ghost, not think about Duke and the way he’d watched her as he told her, You’re wrong, Ana.

  I’m not. This doesn’t have anything to do with me. Whatever part I needed to play, I’ve already done it. I got him here, didn’t I? What else was she supposed to do?

  “You’re supposed to stop thinking about it,” she muttered as she dumped her stuff on her desk.

  “Ana?”

  Distracted, she glanced up and saw her boss lingering in front of her desk. “Hi, Mr. Holcomb.”

  “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes. Can you come into my office?”

  She didn’t need to be psychic to pick up on the gravity in his words. Her stomach sank down somewhere close to her knees as she followed him. This wasn’t good.

  ANA had been right. It wasn’t good.

  She felt sick.

  In her lap, she linked her hands together and squeezed. She squeezed until her knuckles went white and then she squeezed harder. It was either that or sit there and wring her hands and she wasn’t about to do that.

  Gary Holcomb, her boss—soon to be ex-boss, watched her with sympathetic eyes. “I’m really sorry, Ana. It’s just that business has been down . . . you know that. And you’re the newest employee . . . ”

  “I understand.” She kept her voice flat. The bitch of it was, she did understand.

  “I’ll be more than happy to give you a reference. And it’s possible we’ll need some part-time help in the next few months . . . ”

  His voice trailed off as she stood up. “Of course. If that’s all, I’ll get my things together.”

  He stood as well. He picked up something from his desk and held it out. “Your final paycheck. It’s got your unused vacation time—you’d accumulated two weeks and only took two days, so there’s eight extra days of pay. As well as one month’s severance pay.”

  At least she’d have a little bit of money to tide her over while she tried to find another job, she thought dismally. Might be able to get unemployment . . . she wasn’t sure. Hell, she’d never lost a job before. Of course, this was the only real job she’d ever had.

  And damn it, she’d liked this job. She left his office without saying anything else, determined to get out of there as quick as possible—and without talking to another soul.

  She didn’t quite make it. Darlene came out the bathroom and stopped in her tracks. “Hey, Ana . . . what’s wrong?”

  “I was just laid off,” she said.

  Darlene’s eyes rounded. “You were what?”

  “Laid off.” She headed toward her desk and found a nice, neat box already sitting beside it. How thoughtful. She ignored the box and grabbed her bag. It wasn’t like she’d had that much stuff she kept here. A book she’d been reading off and on during her lunch hour. A picture of her and Brad in a frame. A comb. A couple of tampons. Nowhere near enough stuff to fill a box.

  “Oh, shit. Ana, I’m sorry.” She shot a dirty look down the hallway just as Gary stepped out of his office. He quickly retreated back inside and Darlene crossed her arms over her chest, tapping one booted foot. “I can’t believe this.”

  Ana shrugged jerkily. “Business is slow. I’m the newest employee. It happens.”

  “Yeah. It sucks, though.” Darlene shifted from one foot to the other, looking uncomfortable.

  Ana could sympathize. She was feeling pretty damned uncomfortable herself. “Yes. It definitely sucks.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” She pushed her hair back from her face, staring down into her bag. Her gaze landed on a book. Unsolved—Mysteries of the Far North. The book where she’d read about Marie’s murder. Duke’s voice whispered through her memory.

  Marie wasn’t pissed at me. She didn’t come looking for me. She went looking for you. So that must mean there’s something else you can do.

  “Well, you’ll have a little bit of time to figure it out, I guess. You can file for unemp
loyment.”

  Ana glanced at Darlene. “Unemployment—oh, yes. Yes, although I’m not too sure what to do.”

  “Oh, I am . . . here’s what you do . . . ”

  Ana paid attention—mostly. But in the back of her mind, she was thinking. Remembering. There’s something else you can do.

  DUKE, laden down with a recently purchased backpack, mounted the steps. Ana was home—early, again. He frowned, hoped she wasn’t having more issues with her shields. That wouldn’t be a good thing, for a number of reasons.

  Numero uno being that shaky shields wreaked havoc on a psychic. He wasn’t worried about how it would affect her gifts, not anymore, and he was still pissed over how he’d hurt her when he had questioned it. But he was worried over how it would affect her. She didn’t need the stress, didn’t need the strain. Especially not when he was getting ready to dump more on her.

  If she was that dead set on not taking some time off, he couldn’t force it on her. She had a life, one that would go on after this mess was dealt with, and he had no right expecting her to set it aside. Frowning, he slowed to a stop as he cleared the steps. Yeah. She had a life, one that didn’t include him, one that didn’t include the bizarre baggage that accompanied Hunters.

  She’d get back to that life . . . without him.

  That thought pissed him off. For reasons he really wasn’t ready to examine too closely. So instead of thinking about that, he decided to focus on the here and now. Namely, all the information he had crammed into the backpack. Copies he’d made at the library, some books he’d picked up. The books weren’t going to come in real handy for anything other than supplying names, but the names would give him a starting point when he started surfing the web for more detailed info.

  And Ana was going to hit the books with him. Maybe if they were lucky, something in those books could help trigger her.

  The door was unlocked and he went inside, following the sound of movement coming from her bedroom. He came to a stop in the door and stared. The normally neat space was in a state of organized chaos. He studied the large suitcase open in the middle of the bed and then looked up.