Return of the Hunters (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 4)

by Sonya Bateman

  Taeral swallowed hard and gave a stiff nod.

  “Listen, I think the best thing for everyone right now is to just get home.” I looked at Daoin, and grinned. We wouldn’t have to take the goddamned train after all. “Hey, Dad,” I said. “Can we have a ride home?”

  Daoin blinked slowly. “I do not understand. Is that…humor?”

  “I guess there’s still some of the old you in there, after all,” I said with a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain when you’re older.”

  He cracked a smile. “Now, that is humor,” he said. “And yes. I will absolutely give everyone a ride home.

  It was the best sentence I’d heard all day.

  CHAPTER 43

  Manhattan had four inches of snow on the ground, and more coming down. This kind of weather usually made me cranky, just because I’d eventually have to drive in it—but right now, I would’ve happily stripped naked and rolled in the stuff.

  I was home.

  The Duchenes and Reun had gone straight up to the fourth floor. No one tried to stop them. I’d only made it as far as the back room off the lobby and decided that was far enough for now. My bed was great and all, but this couch was a good two hundred steps closer.

  Sadie broke off for her bathroom and a quick shower, but Daoin and Taeral had followed me in and taken seats on the easy chairs at either end of the couch. I was too exhausted to tell them that I was too exhausted to talk. I figured they’d eventually get the point when I fell asleep mid-sentence.

  “Well,” Daoin said. “Now that you are both here, I’ve something to tell you.”

  Taeral gave him a wary look. “Never in my life has it been good news when you’ve said that.”

  Great. I really could’ve gone a long time without hearing more bad news.

  “It is neither good news, nor bad news,” Daoin leaned forward and folded his hands, resting his arms on his thighs. “I must return to Arcadia,” he said. “Not immediately. I am…how do humans phrase it? Home for the holidays. But I cannot stay.”

  Damn. I figured Taeral would be extremely upset—he’d gone decades thinking his father was dead, and then that he’d lost his mind forever, and then that the Unseelie Queen had restored Daoin’s memories, just so he’d know that she was the one who killed him. After all that, Daoin decided not to come back with us. And now he wasn’t even staying.

  But Taeral just seemed resigned. “What is it this time, Father?” he said in a weary voice. “More training? A woman? Perhaps it’s both.”

  For some reason, the statement didn’t piss Daoin off—and that made me feel awful for Taeral. He was obviously used to his father having more important things to do. “I am truly sorry. I meant to stay,” Daoin said. “But this is much greater than training or women.”

  Taeral raised an eyebrow. “Is it, now.”

  “Aye. I plan to help the new Seelie King unite the realms.”

  “Father…” Taeral shivered briefly. “That is not possible. Moirenha would never—”

  “She has already met with him twice. Negotiations are underway.” He smiled proudly. “It seems a few brave sons of mine and their princely friend have softened her cold heart a bit. Or at the least, her tolerance for violent actions against her royal person,” he said. “Braelan intends to lift the ban against relations between Seelie and Unseelie. They’ll no longer face death, simply for falling in love.”

  Even I had to smile at that. I didn’t know Braelan very well, but I knew his brothers. And if he was anything like them, he’d find a way to push this through.

  “The process will be long and involved, just as any matter involving the Courts. But I will return here to visit often,” Daoin said. “Oh, yes…and I have gifts for you both.”

  He took something out of his pocket, then stood and walked over to Taeral. “This is yours now,” he said.

  What he handed him was a pendant. Like the moonstone, only the gem was a deep, glistening crystal black.

  “The lodestone,” Taeral said, half-rising from his chair. “Father, are you certain…?”

  “I am. You’ve wielded it far better than I ever could, and you are more than worthy to be its keeper.”

  Taeral slipped the pendant around his neck with something like reverence. “Thank you, Father.” He bowed his head. “I’ll not let you down.”

  “My son…you never have.”

  Daoin embraced him, and I looked away to give them a little privacy. I knew why Taeral said what he had. He’d held himself responsible for Daoin being captured and held by Milus Dei, for a little over a quarter of a century—even though it wasn’t even remotely his fault.

  Whatever that stone was, Daoin had obviously absolved him with it.

  “Gideon. I’ve something for you, as well.”

  I pushed myself into a more-or-less seated position. “Thanks, but you don’t have to give me anything,” I said. “I’m good.”

  “Actually, I do. Because this still belongs to you.” He reached into a different pocket.

  And pulled out the moonstone.

  “These stones are special,” Daoin said. “The lodestone, the firestone, and the master stone. In a way, they are sentient—they choose their bearers. The firestone works best with me. The lodestone has chosen Taeral.” He held the pendant out to me. “And the master stone has chosen you.”

  I almost didn’t take it. But something in me was overjoyed at the sight of the stone, and I wasn’t sure I could stop myself if I tried. I accepted the pendant and slipped it around my neck.

  It glowed softly, as if it was saying hello.

  “Thank you,” I said with an unexpected catch in my voice. “I’m…yeah. Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome,” Daoin said.

  I was surprised that I was actually enjoying this—hanging out with my family, my real, related-to-me family. But all good things had to come to an end, at least temporarily. I could barely keep my eyes open. “So, er…I love you guys and all. But if I don’t get some sleep soon, I think the friction’s gonna set my eyeballs on fire.”

  “Oh! Of course,” Taeral said. “We should let him rest, Father. And I’d like to hear more about this union of Arcadia.”

  “Aye, there’s much to tell.” Daoin slung an arm around Taeral’s shoulders. “Goodnight, then, Gideon.”

  “’Night,” I murmured, already closing my eyes.

  That sleep was the sweetest I’d ever had.

  I didn’t get up until noon, and I still managed to beat Abe to the diner for lunch.

  I’d called him as soon as I woke up. He tried to interrogate me over the phone, but I insisted on talking to him in person. After I swore it wasn’t bad news this time, we agreed to meet at one o’clock at the Ninth Street Diner.

  I already had coffee for both of us when he came in, spotted me, and tried not to look like he was rushing the table. He slid into the seat across from me with a frown. “Thought you said it wasn’t bad news.”

  “It’s not.”

  “You’re never early, unless it’s bad news.”

  “Relax, Abe. I’m fine.” I grinned and pushed a menu at him. “Look all you want, but I already ordered you the usual. You know that’s what you’re getting.”

  He opened his mouth, and then closed it on a smirk. “Yeah. That’s what I’m getting.”

  “Me, too.” I sighed and grabbed my coffee mug in both hands. “I know you want to know what happened. And first let me say that most of it, you wouldn’t believe if I told you.”

  I hated that disappointed look. “You know I’d believe you, kid,” he said.

  “Yeah, you probably would.” I gave him a half-smile. “Thing is, there’s a lot of it you’d never understand. Not because you’re incapable, but the backstory on some of this stuff is insanely long and doesn’t make a lot of sense. So for that part, let’s just say it wasn’t a werewolf or a Fae or a vampire or a ghost, but it’s dead now and it won’t hurt anyone else.”

  Abe gave up and chuckled. “All right. Po
int taken,” he said. “And you’re still alive, so that’s pretty much all that matters to me.”

  “Not quite. There’s something I do have to tell you, and I should have told you a long time ago. More than anyone, you deserve to know.” I took in a bracing breath. “I’m ready to tell you about where I came from, and how I got all those scars,” I said.

  Abe blinked rapidly and sipped at his coffee to cover it up. “About time you trusted me, kid,” he said with a smile.

  “I’ve always trusted you. From day one.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I just never trusted myself, until now.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “So what changed?”

  “Those people you called the FBI for me on, the Valentines?” I said. “They were my family.”

  I’d never seen his eyes get so wide. “Those animals are your family?” he spluttered.

  “I take it you read the rap sheet.” I actually laughed. “And I said they were my family. You just saved me from them.” I reached across the table and patted his hand. “Again.”

  He shuddered. “Well, thank Jesus Howard Christ for that. I wouldn’t want you anywhere near that collection of human garbage,” he said. “Matter of fact, I’m thinking I might pull the investigation over from the Feds, just so I can shoot every one of those scumbags in the face. Twice.”

  “Abe…have I told you lately that I love you?”

  This time, he laughed. “You don’t have to, kid. That’s what an old man’s for.”

  I couldn’t believe how much better I felt already. There was no trace of the unseen chains I’d carried around for years—the ones with the Valentines’ names stamped all over them. I felt like I was actually breathing, for the first time in my life.

  The Duchenes weren’t the only ones who’d won their freedom in New Orleans.

  I’d gone there to kill a god, and ended up resurrecting myself.

  EPILOGUE

  Federal Bureau of Investigations Field Office – New Orleans, LA

  They were trying to make him sweat. It wouldn’t work. The minute the damned Feds bothered to come into this room, he’d just deny everything—and point them to Redfield and the rest of Milus Dei. Fuck their cult secrets. He was going to blow the whole thing wide open, and then go back to hunting wild beasts that couldn’t talk back.

  The smug bastards thought they could buy his loyalty. Well, no amount of money was worth this hassle.

  He’d been sitting in the interrogation room behind a two-way mirror, handcuffed to an iron ring set into the table, for almost two hours when the door behind him finally opened. His opening insult was on the tip of his tongue. He actually got the first syllable out before the room’s new occupant dropped a heavy folder on the table in front of him and stepped around to the side with a menacing glare.

  It was Redfield. Holstered gun at his side, badge clipped to his waist, laminated clearance tag on a lanyard around his neck. And murder in his eyes.

  “You seem surprised, Mr. Valentine.” Redfield spoke in a brittle, barely controlled tone. “I suppose that’s my fault. All this time, and I’ve never properly introduced myself. Let’s rectify that.” He slammed his palms on the table and leaned in with a sneer. “Special Agent Redfield, United States Federal Bureau of Investigation,” he said. “And you are?”

  He bristled. “You lying son of a bitch.”

  “Mr. Valentine, I strongly suggest you remain silent unless I ask you a question. You have no idea what strings I had to pull to put myself in charge of this operation so I could save your worthless hide—and I’m sorely tempted to put a bullet between your eyes, right before I head off to execute the rest of your miserable family. Am I clear?”

  “Perfectly,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Good.” Redfield straightened and paced a few steps away. “Now, I have a few questions about your most recent assignment,” he said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought it was fairly straightforward. Go to Baptise Landau. Collect the Duchenes, and turn them over to me. Get paid. That was all you had to do.”

  He drummed his fingers once, rattling the handcuff chains. “We ran into—”

  “That was not a question,” Redfield snarled. “You’ll know when I ask a question. Even a ridiculously overpaid hick like yourself can recognize the upward inflection at the end of a sentence that signifies a question has been asked. Can’t you?”

  “Yes, goddamn it.”

  “Very good. You’ve successfully identified a question.” The utter contempt stamped on Redfield’s face should’ve pissed him off…but it unnerved him. “Let’s get back to the point,” Redfield said. “I sent you after the Duchenes. But the Other you captured was clearly not a Duchene. What you did was take down and nearly kill a Fae with dark hair, blue eyes, and significant scarring and tattoos. Who then escaped you and somehow managed to launch an FBI raid on your location.”

  He managed not to spit out a sarcastic response, but it was close.

  “Let me give you a hint. I’m about to ask a question.” Redfield opened the folder, and the first item inside was a photo of the goddamned kid. On top of a two-inch thick stack of documents and pictures. “Is this him?”

  This was impossible. With the amount of information they had on the kid, it was obvious Milus Dei had already known about him. That much paper also said that he was extremely important. Why the hell would they be so interested in that little bastard?

  “Mr. Valentine,” Redfield said with lethal calm. “I want you to answer my question.”

  He breathed out slowly. “Yeah. That’s him.”

  There was a long, heavy pause as Redfield leaned in way too close. “You incompetent, brainless, inbred, mouth-breathing backwater mule,” he snarled. “I don’t believe this. You had the DeathSpeaker in your custody. And not only did you come far too close to killing him, but you let him get away!”

  “The fuck are you talking about?” he blurted. “That kid’s—”

  Redfield kicked the chair out from under him.

  His chin smacked the table hard enough to make him see stars, and he landed in an awkward half-crouch with wrenched shoulders from the handcuffs still attached to the surface. “Shut the hell up,” Redfield said as he walked away, taking a phone from his pocket.

  With effort, he managed to struggle to his feet. Whatever this was about, he didn’t like the sound of it. At all.

  Redfield dialed, waited, and then spoke into the phone. “Wurther. Start getting Elijah prepped for deployment,” he said. “We have a new assignment for him.” After another brief pause, he disconnected.

  He waited until Redfield turned toward him again. The angry retort died in his mouth when he got a good look at the agent’s face, and all he could say was, “DeathSpeaker?”

  Redfield’s features relaxed the tiniest fraction. “Fortunately for you and your repulsive family, I’ve decided to give you the opportunity to rectify this unforgivable mistake,” he said. “You will capture the DeathSpeaker, along with certain individuals he’s known to associate with. And you will bring him in alive. I’m not going to ask if you understand, because I’m choosing to believe that I’ve made myself very, very clear. You’ll receive more details when it’s time.”

  With that, Redfield left the room. No explanation of how long the Feds planned to keep him and his family locked up here. Didn’t even put the chair back.

  Fine. He’d take the goddamn assignment. He would hunt down that ungodly little freak who’d had the nerve to play him like a fiddle in the devil’s ass-kicking contest.

  And when he found the brat, and whatever friends he had—he’d kill them all.

  Thanks for reading!

  If you enjoyed RETURN OF THE HUNTERS, please consider leaving a review on Amazon to share your thoughts. Reviews are a great way to help other readers find new books and new authors to enjoy.

  You can also join my mailing list to be among the first notified when CITY OF SECRETS, book five of The DeathSpeaker Codex, is released—a
s well as receive information about the latest new releases, book sales, and special subscriber-only offers.

  More books by Sonya Bateman

  COMING SOON:

  CITY OF SECRETS

  The DeathSpeaker Codex, Book 5

  AVAILABLE NOW:

  WRONG SIDE OF HELL

  The DeathSpeaker Codex, Book 1

  Available now from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

  FIELDS OF BLOOD

  The DeathSpeaker Codex, Book 2

  Available now from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

  REALM OF MIRRORS

  The DeathSpeaker Codex, Book 3

  Available now from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

  RED (Fairy Tale Reboot #1)

  Available now from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

  EMBER (Fairy Tale Reboot #2)

  Available now from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

  DEMON’S SONG (A Shade and Citadel novel)

  Available now from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

  THE DEVIL WENT DOWN (A Shade and Citadel novella)

  Available now from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

  MASTER OF NONE | MASTER AND APPRENTICE

  The Gavyn Donatti series – Available for Kindle and wherever books are sold

  THE GETAWAY (A Gavyn Donatti novella)

  Available now from Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

  About the Author

  Sonya Bateman lives in “scenic” Central New York, with its two glorious seasons: winter and road construction. She is the author of the Gavyn Donatti urban fantasy series (Master of None / Master and Apprentice) from Simon & Schuster. Under the pseudonym S.W. Vaughn, she’s the author of the Skin Deep paranormal M/M erotic romance series (Loose Id) and the House Phoenix thriller series.

  You can contact her at sonyabateman.author@gmail.com, or like and post to her page on Facebook.

  Table of Contents

  SONYA BATEMAN

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2