Hunter's Need

by Shiloh Walker

  But he wasn’t going to let himself get too worked up over those quiet little whispers. It might not be much of anything. For all he knew, it was another shifter, one who’d already established some kind of ownership over this area. Or maybe somebody needed help—his kind of help.

  Whatever it was, it wasn’t a scream. His gut told him that if there was a connection to Ana and her ghost, it was going to be a scream. Marie would make damn sure of that.

  The scent of rage came on so sudden, it caught him off guard. Rage. Anger. Disgust.

  In seconds, it went from a whisper of unease to a panicked scream. Instincts kicked up and he shut out everything else. Focused on the scent, and followed it.

  ALONE in the small hotel room, Ana shivered.

  The temperature in the room dropped, growing colder and colder. Something whispered through the air. A quiet sigh.

  Marie shimmered into view, watching Ana with mixed emotions. Anger. Hope. Rage. Desperation. Disgust. Fear.

  I can’t do this, she thought.

  But she didn’t see how much choice she had. There was so much that this woman wasn’t seeing. How much was it because she couldn’t see? How much because she wouldn’t look?

  Marie wasn’t alone for long. So many lost souls were waiting for this girl, waiting for her to help find their killer. That would cut them loose, free them from their ties to the land of the living so they could move on. Sisters—they were all sisters in death, bound together by the acts of a madman.

  As one of her sisters came to stand beside her, the air in the room became even colder and on the bed, Ana shivered and trembled.

  “Let me.”

  Marie looked at her sister and wondered if she could. If she should. Marie was the strongest here. She’d been gone the longest, and though the others had suffered, she wondered if any of them had suffered as much as she.

  Her anger, the betrayal, all of it fueled her and grounded her so completely to the world, and it made her stronger. Sometimes she hated it. Hated how they turned to her for help. Hated how they trusted her.

  “What if you harm her?” Even the dead could feel guilty, Marie realized. Because she’d felt a great deal of guilt in the past week, every time she’d inflicted pain on the girl. But the guilt wouldn’t stop her. “What if you hurt her too badly? She doesn’t deserve that.”

  The other shook her head. “I won’t.”

  Marie eyed the other sadly. She could see the woman clearly, although none of the living could. Perhaps it was because Marie’s anger grounded her so completely, it allowed her to see in both worlds. “You don’t know that. You’ve never done this. You don’t even know if you can.”

  “I can do it. I know it. I can feel it—feel her. Let me.”

  Marie closed her eyes. With a desperate prayer, for both forgiveness and guidance, she looked back at Leah and said, “Be quick about it. And don’t harm her—if you do, that man she’s with will take her away. What if we can’t follow?”

  Leah was quick. It seemed as though returning home had strengthened her and as she hovered above Ana’s still body, Marie could feel that added strength.

  For just a moment, Marie could see both of them, Leah’s spirit drawing ever closer to Ana’s body. And then Leah settled inside her. A war was waged. Ana’s eyes flew open. Sanity and understanding glinted in that strange purple gaze. She fought and struggled and Marie could feel Leah losing ground.

  But then it was over. Not because Leah won, but because Ana allowed her in. Marie felt it—like a door was thrown open. Not a door, though—it was that wall, a wall that Marie had shoved up against endlessly in the past few days. A wall that kept others out. Ana was somehow shielding against them and keeping herself distant from the others.

  Now that wall was down and around her, Marie could feel the avid interest of others, sense them pressing close to the woman’s vulnerable mind.

  “Don’t,” Marie warned them. “Don’t. Too many of us and we’ll hurt her. If we hurt her . . . ” Again, guilt swamped her. She hadn’t meant to hurt the girl that much.

  They remembered. They had been there when Marie had lost her temper, just a day or so past. It was just the other day, right? It was so hard for her to tell. But yes . . . it had just happened, she was sure of it.

  She’d lost her temper and pushed in on Ana, too hard. But the woman’s shields had held and instead of overtaking Ana, all Marie had done was cause her pain. That was when her friend, that strange man, had threatened to take her away if Ana was harmed.

  So they waited.

  So they watched.

  RUNNING late—damn it, I knew I should have set the alarm. Too late now. I’ll just have to make it up on the road—

  It was cold, but that was nothing new. Snow fell in puffy flakes from the sky and Leah smirked as she headed toward her car. Under her breath, she sang, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas . . . ”

  The guy who wrote that song obviously hadn’t lived in Alaska. Leah would just love to have a green Christmas. Sunny, blue skies, warm sunshine, palm trees and piña coladas. Oh, well . . . maybe next year.

  The trip home was a long one and she cheered herself up by singing as many carols from memory as she could, as loud as she could. And as badly. The radio on her car was busted and she didn’t have the money to fix it, but she managed to pass the time quick enough.

  Right up until she blew out on a tire on the highway. Swearing, she climbed out and crouched down, studying the flat tire and trying not to cry. She could change it to the spare—she thought. It had been ages since her dad had shown her how to do it, but damn it, she wasn’t going to let a flat tire keep her from having some of Mom’s pumpkin pie—

  The sound of a car approaching was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. She stood up and smiled brightly as a man climbed out of his car. The knit cap he wore covered his hair and the oversized glasses hid a lot of his face.

  But he had a nice smile. Friendly. Safe—

  DUKE stood by the back door, listening as the small-time town sheriff quietly, coldly threatened his wife. Disgust and anger curled inside.

  “When I was called back out to deal with a problem, you knew that I’d want a decent meal waiting for me when I got home. A warm, decent meal, not something you reheated and not a damn sandwich.”

  She took a deep breath. Duke couldn’t see her face, but his heart clenched at the unsteady rhythm of her breathing and her heart as she answered, “I know, Will. I’m sorry.”

  “I’ve been awake since five a.m. It’s midnight. I’m tired and I’m hungry. I expected a decent meal.”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It’s just the baby was so fussy today and I didn’t know when you were going to be home. He’s got an ear infection and his fever has been running really high. But the—”

  “I didn’t ask for explanations. You are to have dinner done when I come home. Go lay the baby down.”

  There was a pause and then a hiccupy, little sigh, tragically sad. “Will, please . . . he’s been sick.”

  “Lay the baby down. You don’t want him to see.”

  Duke edged around just enough to look through the window, and damn, what timing. It was just in time to see the bastard taking his belt off. Oh, hell, no. He straightened and glanced down at his clothes, and then around. He stripped down quickly and left the clothes in a neat pile by the back door. He’d prefer someplace a little more hidden to put them, but he wasn’t about to leave that woman alone. Besides, the house was isolated, damn isolated, outside the small town and set back from the road a decent ways. Not very likely that anybody would head out this way, and if they did, he’d hear.

  He didn’t shift completely. Took more control to maintain a halfling form, but it suited his purposes just then. He could rip out the sheriff’s throat easy in full cat form, but he was more interested in scaring the bastard to death than actually killing him.

  Killing wife beaters didn’t faze him, but it usually called for a lot of cleanup and he did
n’t have the same resources up here that he’d have at home. Dealing with the woman was going to be a different story, but he’d work something out.

  Power rolled through him, bones breaking and realigning, fur rippling along his limbs until his bare, golden skin could no longer be seen. He flexed his hands, watched as claws shot through the end of his fingers, hooked and black. But the shape of his hands remained the same, bigger, still very much on the human side—all the easier to open a door, my dear.

  The poor woman was already back in the kitchen, trying not to cry. She saw Duke first as he slid inside. Duke wished he could reassure her just then, but it was already a dicey road he was walking, trying not to shift completely, trying not to kill the bastard who stood there eying his wife and holding a belt.

  Duke had no doubt the sick fuck had used the belt on her before. He could even smell blood on the leather. Old, faint, but there nonetheless. No amount of cleaning ever completely removed the stink of blood.

  As she stared at Duke, her eyes rolled back and he moved past her husband, catching her just before she would have hit the ground unconscious. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sheriff, saw the shock on the man’s face. The disbelief.

  The belt fell from his hand as he reached for his gun. But he’d already taken the gun off—the holstered weapon neatly hanging off the back of a nearby chair. “What the . . . ”

  “What are you planning on doing with that belt?”

  DEAR God, Leah hurt. She huddled in the trunk, terrified and shaking, the taste of blood making her gag, but she couldn’t throw up. If she did, she’d suffocate. The tape over her mouth pretty much guaranteed that.

  When the car came to a stop, she whimpered and squeezed her eyes closed. Oh, God . . . help me.

  The trunk opened and she squinted up at him. He smiled down at her and out, stroking her face. “Hello, Marie.”

  Leah shook her head desperately, but it was a waste of time. He didn’t care that she wasn’t Marie. She’d tried to tell him and he’d just hit her. Over and over. He wouldn’t listen to her now, either, even if she could manage to tell him.

  As he hauled her out of the trunk, she closed her eyes and prayed. She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to see.

  Later, she closed her eyes and tried to hide from the pain. She didn’t want to look at him. She didn’t want to see.

  DUKE didn’t have too much time to enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done. He’d put some wheels in motion and now the sheriff’s young wife was safe, or rather, she would be safe, if she took advantage of the options that Duke had offered her. Whether she took them or not would depend on how badly she wanted to escape, but he had a feeling she was going to take that chance.

  Because of her son, more than anything else.

  Sometimes they couldn’t do much, not when it came to mortal problems like this. Too often, victims wouldn’t, or couldn’t, leave. It was frustrating as hell, but this time, Duke felt like he’d accomplished something.

  But his satisfied smile faded a few hundred yards from the hotel.

  Ana—he could smell her.

  He rounded the corner and came to an abrupt stop at the sight before him. Ana was out in the parking lot, standing at the back of the car, staring down into the open trunk. Something about the way she stood there screamed a warning at him, but it wasn’t until he got a little closer that he realized that something was very, very wrong.

  Her scent was different. He couldn’t quite describe it. He scented fear, he scented that warm, singular scent that was Ana, but there was more to it. It was almost . . . almost like it wasn’t just her he was smelling. But there was nobody else around. Cautiously, he approached her.

  “Ana?”

  She didn’t look at him.

  She just stared down into the trunk although he’d be damned if he could figure out what held her attention so completely.

  “What’s wrong, princess?” He reached out with half a mind to stroke his fingers up and down her arm, but at the feel of her skin, the vague sense of worry exploded into all-out alarm. She was freezing, so damn cold he wouldn’t be surprised to see her lips going blue. The cool night air actually seemed warmer than Ana did.

  “Ana!” he snapped, his voice taking on a harsh edge.

  “She can’t hear you right now.” The blast of cold air against his face almost came as a welcome respite. He scanned the area, searching for Marie—he knew she was there. Knew it, but even as she wavered into view next to him, it still almost had him jumping out of his skin. And damn it, he was having a hard time holding on to his skin anyway, thanks to how fucking pissed he was.

  “Why can’t she hear me?” he demanded. “Why the hell is her skin so cold?”

  “It’s one of us.”

  “One of us?” Duke squinted, trying to puzzle that one out. The answer came easily enough, but he sure as hell didn’t like it. “Damn it, are you saying she’s been . . . what, possessed?”

  “Not possessed. Just . . . kind of borrowed. But it’s temporary. We’re not strong enough to fight your woman’s power for long.”

  “Who in the hell is it and why?”

  “One of us,” Marie repeated. “One of us, the girl you came here to fi nd. She was almost home when he found her. Now she’s so close to being home again—that’s all she wants.”

  “Leah . . . shit, if all she wants is to go home, then why is she borrowing Ana? Why in the hell don’t you just tell us what to do?”

  “Because we can’t. But don’t worry . . . she isn’t hurt. She won’t be hurt.” Marie sighed and faded away.

  Duke snarled and spun back around, staring at Ana. She was crying now, silent tears that fell from unblinking eyes as she stared into the trunk. He set his jaw and reached out, slamming the trunk door closed. Then he picked her up, cradling her stiff body against his chest. Her body was rigid in his arms, but he didn’t let that stop him. They couldn’t stay out here staring into the trunk indefinitely.

  But once he had her in the hotel, he didn’t know what to do. She wouldn’t respond to his voice or his touch. She barely even blinked when he passed a hand in front of her eyes. It was as though she was held in a trance, but this one wasn’t of her own making.

  He could only pray it wouldn’t harm her.

  But as the hours passed, sitting and waiting just wasn’t enough. Worry drove him to the phone and he found himself waiting on hold indefinitely while they tracked Kelsey down. In the ten minutes he spent waiting, he found himself getting more and more short-tempered, and by the time she came on the line, he was ready to attack at the first smart-ass comment out of her mouth.

  But when she spoke, her voice was heavy with worry. “Duke. Something’s wrong.”

  It wasn’t a question. She knew. Blowing a breath, he said, “Yeah, something’s wrong. Crazy-ass shit like I’ve never seen.” He kept it short and concise, all the details leading up to this, at least the details he knew. He hoped there wasn’t something vital he was missing here, but even if there was, he couldn’t do jack about it right now.

  He finished and for the longest time, Kelsey was quiet. When she finally spoke, the tone of her voice didn’t exactly send warm fuzzies rushing through him, either. “Duke, I’ve got to admit, you’ve got me stumped. I haven’t ever had a run-in with a ghost, and I can’t think of too many people who have. At least that I know about.”

  “I don’t care about run-ins with ghosts, I just want to know what in the hell you think is wrong,” he said, staring across the dark room at Ana’s still body.

  “Duke, I don’t know. This is kind of outside my area of expertise. Honestly, I don’t think ghosts like us—they work too hard to steer clear of us.”

  Duke frowned. He sure as hell wouldn’t have called Marie’s actions as those of somebody who was trying to steer clear of him. “This ghost sure isn’t showing any sign of avoiding me.”

  “Maybe it’s because if she avoids you, she can’t get to Ana.”

  He
squeezed his eyes shut. Shit, shit, shit. Although he couldn’t quite get his mind around the logistics of it, he had a bad feeling that was exactly the case. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. He wished he could believe it was just an overactive imagination or something.

  He couldn’t. Plastic creaked and he swore as he realized he had the phone squeezed so tight, he was about to crush the phone’s plastic casing. “Why would she want to get to Ana? There’s not much in the way of shifters or witches up there that I’ve sensed, but it’s one big-ass state. There’s got to be others. Why Ana? Why her?”

  Kelsey sighed. “Duke, you’re asking me questions and I have no clue to the answers. Ana’s gift isn’t one we’re entirely familiar with. Psychic skill can vary so much from one to another—it’s one area we really just don’t understand as much as we’d like, which really sucks because psychic skills are actually a hell of a lot more common than people realize. But there’s only so much study that can be done when the abilities vary so widely and when we can’t locate psychics as easily as we can track vamps and the like. Their gifts are too low-level, even the strong ones, and unless they’re doing something wrong, we don’t know who they are from Adam.”

  “So you have no idea.”

  “Ideas—maybe. How plausible they are, I don’t know.”

  “Well, even implausible ones are better than I have,” he muttered. He paced back over to the bed and studied Ana’s pale face. Although he could hear her heartbeat, he checked her pulse anyway. Something about the strong, steady beat against his fingers did something to ease the ball of fear in his gut. “She’s scaring me to death, Kelsey.”

  “I get that.” She paused and then asked, “Is she physically in danger? She need a healer?”

  “Physically . . . no. Not right now.” Then he scowled. Hell, what if he was wrong . . . “Maybe you should come.”

  Cold ripped through the room. Duke jerked his gaze away from Ana, searching the room until he saw the shifting form of Marie—she didn’t do one of those reverse fades into existence this time. One second, she wasn’t there, then she was and those black eyes of hers were shooting daggers at Duke. “No.”