Hunter's Rise

by Shiloh Walker

  He was afraid.

  It wasn’t her that bothered the man, though.

  “Paul.”

  Toronto didn’t wait for an invitation to enter.

  Sylvia didn’t have much choice. At least the guy didn’t shut the door in her face. She suspected that had more to do with Toronto, though, than her.

  And the invite didn’t come. Frustrated, she stood there as Toronto prowled around the foyer, pausing by a long slim table set under a mirror. The mirror was set in an old oak frame and looking at it made her itch. She had a hard time looking away, though.

  “Don’t look at it too long, sweetheart,” Toronto said, glancing at her over his shoulder. “It’s spelled— he uses it to try and catch bits and pieces of a person’s past, of their secrets.”

  Sylvia hissed and jerked her gaze away, but not before she saw the echo of something in it— no. Not an echo. A face… her face. But not as she was now. Snarling, she shot the witch a look. With a flick of her wrist, she dropped one of her blades into her hand. Oh, she was going to cut him for that. Cut him wide open—

  “This mirror,” Toronto whispered, reaching up to touch his fingers to the smooth surface. “I wonder if it could tell you much about me.”

  The witch watched Toronto with expressionless eyes. “It won’t because I don’t allow it. I told the Master I wouldn’t practice against the Hunters. I wouldn’t break the laws. I’ve kept my word.” He flicked Sylvia a look. “And I haven’t broken it. She’s no Hunter.”

  “Hmmm, but she’s with me. That means no tricks, witch.” Toronto reached up and trailed his fingers across the surface. “And I have to wonder, just how well are you keeping to your word? There are things going on here that we really should have known about, Paul. I think you even know what it is.”

  Lashes swept down, shielding those gray eyes. “Human affairs belong in the human world. You shouldn’t concern yourself with them. Our worlds do not belong together.”

  “He’s lying about something,” Sylvia said quietly.

  Toronto smiled. “I know.”

  “H

  E didn’t tell you anything.”

  Sylvia stormed along at Toronto’s side, disgusted. Damn it, five minutes with him and the witch would have told her something.

  “I don’t need him to tell me anything. I can find the place myself, and Rafe will get him to talk— he’s already en route.”

  “And what if he leaves before Rafe gets here?” Sylvia asked, staring at the house. It made her hurt, she realized. Deep inside, like a sickness. Made her ache, and left her skin all tight and itchy. As she raked her nails over her flesh, Toronto reached out and caught her wrist.

  “Don’t. It’s just a side effect of his magic, whatever protective spells he has on the place. But the more you react, the harder it will hit you— think of it as magical poison ivy.” With that, he let go of her wrist and glanced back at the house, a mean smile twisting his lips. “And don’t worry. He’s not going anywhere soon. Witches don’t heal as fast we do.”

  Arching a brow, she waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “Rafe has to be the one to handle this from here on out. It’s his territory and this shit isn’t tolerated. Our kind know that. This witch might not be the only one involved— there were others, most likely. Once he finds them, he’ll clean them out.”

  “Clean them out. As in kill them.”

  Toronto pushed the bike into the driveway, off the sides out of the shadows. “You think he should live?”

  “It depends on how involved he is,” Sylvia snapped.

  “Hmmm. How involved.” Toronto turned and pointed off to the east. “I figure the house we’re looking for is roughly a quarter of a mile that way. Paul is a witch of pretty decent strength. From what I know about witches, a low-level witch would feel the disturbance from as far as five miles off. Either the power would seriously fuck up the witch’s head, his power, his life… or he was waiting for it.”

  “Waiting for it?” She glanced back at the house.

  “Torture is a power surge.” He came to stand a few feet away. “If it wasn’t disturbing him, then that means he welcomed it. Since he didn’t report it, that means…”

  “He wanted the power surge.”

  “Why else do you think he was keeping so quiet?” He had a weird look in his eyes as he stared up at the house, something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “He was feeding off it. And although I can’t find the trail myself, I bet if a witch started looking, we’d find that he might have been hiding this somehow.”

  “Hiding it.” She narrowed her eyes, staring at the house as the pieces began to shift into place. As they did, it painted a picture, one that made her burn with fury. As the hunger grew, so did the rage. “He was hiding it— so close to you, so close to the people who are supposed to be able to stop this, but you couldn’t stop him. What fucking good are you?”

  When he didn’t answer her, she whirled around and glared at him.

  His blue eyes swirled, spiked as their gazes locked, but that was the only sign of emotion— the only damn flicker.

  “Well?” she demanded. Stalking closer, she glared at him. “You’re supposed to stop this. Why didn’t you?”

  “We didn’t know— I didn’t know. But we’re stopping it now.”

  “We?” Sylvia shook her head. “No. Not we. I’m working a job and it’s not fixing your fucking mess.”

  She would have turned away but his hand caught the front of her jeans, hauled her close. “Sweetheart, in case you haven’t noticed, your job and this mess seemed to be pretty closely involved. And you’re either working this with me, or you’re not working it.”

  “Let me go.” Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stared into his blue eyes, and she tried to figure out just what it was about him that made that useless bit of flesh react so strongly. Just what was it about him that made her react so strongly? Yeah, he was a bigger, badder predator, but she’d killed bigger, badder predators before. She did it by being smart. Sylvia wasn’t so certain that would be the case here. Those lazy smiles he flashed hid a burning intelligence— she’d seen it gleaming in his eyes.

  This mess aside, Hunters weren’t exactly known for being slackers.

  More, though. It was more than that.

  You just want to jump his bones.

  Okay, there was that. She definitely wanted to jump his bones. That was an image that had planted itself inside her head and just wouldn’t let go. But she wasn’t doing this.

  Reaching down, she curled her fingers around his wrist and pulled. To her surprise, he let her go. “I don’t want to work with you. I don’t want to have anything to do with this mess you’ve let happen.” She turned her back on him, on the house that whispered of a power that made her skin itch. And a mirror that had showed her a ghost. “I have a killer to find.”

  “And we’ll find him together.”

  She could argue. And take that much more time to track Pulaski down. She’d taken too much time already.

  “M

  Y first day as a student and I have homework out of my butt.” Angel lay across the bed, staring at the math problems and wishing she was just a little less obsessive. A little less anal. Because then she could just not worry about the work.

  But if she did something, she did her best. And that included being a student.

  “Ugh.”

  She was halfway done when she felt him. And a smile curled her lips as she felt his frustration— they were in a witch’s home, and Kel hadn’t ever been inside. He was a vampire— he needed an invitation, and since it was a witch, there were specific wardings on the house anyway.

  It had been a weird thing to discover there was actually truth to the threshold and invitation legends about vampires. A home was a place of safety… or at least, an apparent place of safety. After a period of time, a person’s very presence sank into the ground and became a static spell on its home. A spell of life, so to speak. A thing of life.

>   Vampires weren’t of the same breed anymore and that threshold spell didn’t recognize them. For them to pass inside that first time, they had to be invited.

  There were ways around it. Every damn thing came with loopholes, it seemed. If somebody hadn’t been in a house very long, it wasn’t a home, and it didn’t offer the same protective aspects. If somebody wasn’t there very often, the same deal went. And older vampires were better at “camouflage”—pretending to be something they weren’t. Even alive.

  So while Angel lay upstairs, doing the schoolwork that she really didn’t need to do, her husband was downstairs knocking on the door and dealing with the witch’s inquisition.

  By the time he made it upstairs, Angel was grinning ear to ear.

  And he was scowling.

  Bunch of stupid-ass bullshit, why the hell do I gotta… shit, she’s beautiful…

  She looked up at him through her lashes and smiled. Kel stood in the doorway, his dark eyes locked on her face, dark hair spiked and disheveled. He’d been running his hands through it again. He did that when he was distracted or irritated. Or both.

  He was so damn pretty. Before he’d been bitten, his skin had been a light gold and the more time he’d spent in the sun, the deeper it had gotten. Now it was a strange shade between ivory and gold, stretched over a long, lean body that was just a little too skinny. He’d never change. He’d been bitten young. The two of them had been in college, and his Change had halted him forever.

  But he was still beautiful. To her, he was perfect.

  Even with that grim look in his eyes and the frustration she could see written all over his face, hanging around him like a cloud.

  Propping her chin on her hand, she smiled at him. “You know, if you’re nice to me, I might let you talk me into making out. But we have to be quiet… my mom’s downstairs.”

  Kel came inside and shut the door. “Screw being quiet.” He stripped off his jacket and tossed it on the chair.

  Her heart fluttered as he came for her.

  S

  HE made him ache.

  Not just physically, but in his heart, in his soul.

  As he moved to the bed, Angel pushed onto her knees, a smile curving her lips, while her gaze heated. “You in a mood, Kel?” she asked softly.

  “You’re here. I’m here. Damn straight I’m in a mood.” Sliding an arm around her waist, he pulled her against him. “I want you naked.”

  “Hmmm. I can do that.”

  “So can I.” He reached for the hem of her shirt, stripping it away. “Pretty, pretty Angel.”

  White lace dotted with red cupped her breasts. Nice. But in the way. He opened the front hook and tugged the straps off, tossing the bra to the side. “You weren’t there when I woke,” he said, kneeling down and raking his teeth down the curve of her breast. “I didn’t like it.”

  “I know.” Her hand came up, curled over the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”

  “I hate this.” Frustration, fear for her burned inside him. Impatient, he dealt with her jeans and panties and tumbled her back onto the bed— it was a simple affair of white painted iron, with a blue comforter and white pillows. Nothing like their bed, the heavy, oak four-poster they’d picked out together. He wanted her back in their bed.

  But as he levered himself up on his elbows and stared down into her face, he saw her eyes. He could hate it all he wanted. But she needed this. A fist wrapped around his heart. “You better stay safe, Angel,” he whispered.

  “I will.” She stroked a hand down his chest, tugging at the cloth of his T-shirt. “You’re still dressed.”

  “I know.” Biting her lower lip, he muttered, “But you’re not and that’s good enough for me.”

  Angel chuckled, slipping her hand lower. Freeing him from his trousers, she watched him from under her lashes as she wrapped her fingers around his cock and stroked. “And what if I want you naked?”

  “Then I’d say you better be the one in a mood next time.” He shifted between her thighs and pressed against her. “I don’t want to wait.”

  “Then don’t.”

  Their mouths met. As he sank inside her, she sighed and her arms came around him, tight and strong.

  And for the first time since he’d woken that day, he felt complete.

  CHAPTER 13

  “H

  OUSE is empty.”

  Toronto had the feeling Sylvia was biting back something pithy as she shot him a look. “Yes. I noticed that.”

  “Most of what I smell around here is human.” And it wasn’t even that easy to smell that. Frowning, he rubbed his nose and had to fight the urge to sneeze. There was something in the air, and if he tried to drag it in, filter through the scents, he’d end up gagging. “I can’t tell if there’s anything else or not.”

  “Hmmm.”

  She didn’t sound terribly interested. She’d already been checking the air in the same careful way he had. She’d also been checking the windows, searching the grounds. Just like he was doing. Sylvia didn’t wait for him, she didn’t ask his thoughts— she very much didn’t want to be working with him.

  But then again, they’d already established that fact.

  Too bad.

  Barely into this Hunt and he was getting bad vibes. There was a connection between this place and Pulaski. They already knew that. But what was the connection between Pulaski, this place and the witch?

  Abruptly, Toronto caught the sharp edge of a scream, cut off after not even a second, off in the distance.

  Sylvia heard it as well.

  It made him smile. Slanting a look to the west, he said, “Rafe’s got our witch now.”

  “You sure it’s him?”

  “Yeah.”

  She stared out into the night, her eyes unreadable. “What will he do to the witch?”

  “Knowing Rafe? Whatever it takes.” He shrugged. “It’s what I’d do.”

  She slanted a look at him and to his surprise a faint smile curled her lips. “Good.”

  Thirty seconds later, a text popped up on his phone. We have him. I’ll let you know when I get more information from him.

  Not if. When.

  Rafe would get it. It might involve removing body parts and other bloody crap, but Rafe would do what he had to do. The sad thing with witches… they wouldn’t grow those body parts back. Maybe it wouldn’t come to that and Paul could just die a quick death.

  He texted Rafe back the address of the house. Find out who owns this place. There’s a connection here. If he won’t talk and give up names, see if Ex can send a witch. One of ours can probably track this back to anybody connected.

  Without waiting for an answer, he tucked the phone away and looked back at the house. Rafe wouldn’t like it, but if Paul didn’t— or couldn’t— give the right answers, they might need a witch to help untangle this. Toronto wasn’t going to be able to track for shit here.

  “What in the hell is with the scents here?” he muttered, crouching down on the ground. He went low, until his nose was just a few inches above the closely cropped blades of grass. It was stronger there, but only faintly. A trace of something.

  Chemical.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to figure out why my nose isn’t working.” He flicked her a glance. “What do you smell?”

  “Human. And something that smells almost like mint.”

  “Nothing else?”

  Sylvia jerked a shoulder. “Nothing else. What do you smell?”

  “Something I don’t get. Yeah, it’s not mint. Close, but not quite. Chemical, almost. But again, not exactly. It’s like it’s… eating the scent.” He took another scent of it, rolling it around on the back of his tongue, but it just lay there. He couldn’t name it, couldn’t place it. Couldn’t even understand it, although his wolf didn’t like it. That mintlike scent was the strongest and he couldn’t get past it to pull the other scents apart.

  “Eating the scent.”

  “Yeah.” Rising, he shrugged re
stlessly and prowled around the grounds once more. He still needed to go inside, but that was going to be a damned waste of time, too. Just like out here. “It’s not covering it up. You know that nasty crap people spray in the air to hide a smell? That covers things up. This isn’t covering it. There’s something that’s been erasing a scent. Eating it. Whatever. I smell just the faintest trace of something.”

  From the corner of his eye, he could see her watching him for a minute. Then she shrugged and turned away. “Sounds like Febreze for werewolves.”

  “Febreze.” He frowned. That… that wouldn’t work.

  Unless—

  No. Not right now. He tucked that puzzle in the back of his mind. Something to think about later. Right now, they had to finish up here and get out before they were discovered.

  Maybe they’d luck out and find something.

  If not, they still had several hours left of the night. He’d just see where Sylvia led them. Once she was down for the day, he’d follow his own leads. He’d need some sleep soon, but an hour or two would do for now.

  “Come on. Let’s head inside.”

  She stared at him. “I doubt I’ll be able to enter.”

  “And I bet you will. Whoever owned this place… it wasn’t a home.”

  S

  YLVIA’S skin hurt as she pushed her way over the thres-hold. Physically hurt. But she made it over and stood there, shaking, her head bowed, as she waited for the reaction to pass.

  “It always hit like that?”

  “Harder, probably.” Toronto rested his hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Oh. Just peachy.” Just peachy keen. She shrugged his hand away, reminding herself she didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be very elsewhere. Well, she’d be here if it had something to do with Pulaski, but she didn’t want to be here with Toronto.

  “Just keep moving. The more you’re on the move, the less the house will fight you. It doesn’t have much resistance in it anyway or you wouldn’t have made it through the door,” Toronto said.

  She nodded and forced herself to take that first step. Then another— shit, it was like wading through quicksand. The very air seemed to drag at her, pulling her back.