Dark Warrior Unbroken

by Alexis Morgan

  He swept her up for a rib-cracking hug that left her breathless and happier than she’d felt in a long, long time.

  “It’s nearly sundown.”

  Kenny shifted from foot to foot in antsy anticipation. He’d been wired all day, pacing the floor and whining about how slowly time was moving. Even Tara had snapped at him.

  Sean said, “I know, Kenny, I know. We’ll head out in a few minutes.”

  He’d rather go hunting with Tara and leave Kenny at home. However, he’d promised to teach the younger teenager how they worked, how they harvested what they all needed to survive. He worried about Kenny’s lack of impulse control, but maybe the kid would do better once he knew how to take care of himself.

  Sean and Tara had both learned the hard way that it was easier to maintain control over their bodies’ needs if they fed in regular, small amounts. Accidents—tragic ones—were more likely if they waited until they were running on empty.

  They’d only survive as long as they kept to the shadows. Sean didn’t mind for his own sake, but Tara deserved more than a meager basement apartment in a run-down building. If they kept hunting so often, they’d soon have to move to a different neighborhood. And that would be more complicated, now that he had the needs of a third person to consider.

  As soon as Sean stood up, Kenny charged out the door, his excitement contagious. There was enough predator in Sean to understand the heady taste of power. They might be the lowest of the low economically, but once they took to the streets, they jumped right to the top of the food chain.

  Hunger for more than food smoldered in Sean’s gut, ready to burst into flame. Kenny waited for him to catch up, the craving for feeding right from the source sparkling in his eyes. The shared feeling made Sean want to run through the night, howling with the joy of the hunt.

  But he couldn’t teach Kenny restraint if he couldn’t keep a leash on himself. It had been a long time since he’d hunted without Tara’s calming influence beside him; he had forgotten how it had been before they’d found each other. He stopped walking—running, really—and leaned against the building and fought for control.

  Kenny planted himself in front of Sean, looking frustrated. “Tired already? If you’re too weak to do this, I’ll go by myself.”

  A smarter man would have let Kenny’s taunts pass. Sean grabbed a handful of Kenny’s T-shirt and shoved the boy up against the bricks hard enough to jar his teeth. A trickle of blood dribbled down Kenny’s chin, probably from biting his lip. Staring into the kid’s frightened eyes, Sean sent a push of energy ripping through him, holding him immobilized with sheer will. For the first time, there was fear in Kenny’s eyes as he struggled to break free of Sean’s hold.

  Sean leaned in close, getting right in the boy’s face. “Shut up, you little prick! I’m sick and tired of your mouth having no connection with your brain! Nod if you understand me.”

  For once, Kenny had the good sense to do as he was told. Or maybe he finally recognized Sean as a predator with far more experience in culling out the stupid and the weak.

  Satisfied he had the boy’s complete attention, Sean let go of him physically and stepped back a few inches to give them both room to breathe.

  “Think of all those people out there as a herd of zebras or gazelles. Right now they’re moving along quietly, lost in their own little world, but it doesn’t take much to send them into a stampede. The last thing we want is to startle them into screaming for the police. We’re like lions, watching and waiting for the right victim to pass by. Then—and only then—do we reveal our true nature and attack. Got that?”

  Kenny slowly nodded, the mental hold Sean still had on him making it hard for him to move. Sean eased back on that as well.

  “I don’t look like the biggest, baddest thing on the block, Kenny, and neither does Tara. But think of that as camouflage—because even the stupidest human out there can spot danger approaching if the bad guy dresses the part. I can walk right up to my chosen victims, and they won’t know what’s happening until it’s too late. Then it’s into an alley for a quick feed that leaves them weakened and confused, but not dead.”

  He smiled, letting all of his teeth show as his eyes glowed bright and hot. “The first few times, you’ll be tempted to finish the job—dead men carry no tales and all that shit. But if you kill somebody, even by accident, you’ll bring disaster down on all of us.”

  He eased back his hold completely. “So our goal is to leave them dazed, not dead. Repeat that for me, Kenny. Dazed, not dead.”

  The kid swallowed hard. “Dazed, not dead.”

  “You won’t get a second chance to get it right,” Sean warned. “Do something that endangers me or especially Tara, and I’ll take you out myself before the police even have time to arrive. All they’ll find is another pitiful runaway who met a bad end. They’ll think, ‘How sad,’ and then bury you in a lonely grave, forgotten by everyone.”

  Kenny slowly nodded, clearly shaken by the confrontation.

  Knowing he’d made his point, Sean put an arm around Kenny’s shoulders. “Okay, kid, all this talking has made me hungry for some zebra. How about you?”

  Trouble was in the air, and it definitely held the taint of a Kyth gone renegade. Sandor could smell it, taste it, and his skin crawled with the sick feel of it. Now if he could just see it.

  He’d never had the nose for tracking danger that Ranulf had, but he was getting better at it. The only thing he could figure was that the night he’d executed Bradan, sucking the bastard dry must have triggered some change deep inside of him. Or maybe these abilities had always been there, lying dormant until he needed them.

  Sandor stalked the streets, his fingers burn ing with energy as he sought out a target for this powerful compulsion to protect. Keeping his fists clenched inside his sweatshirt pockets, he prowled up one street and down the next. He passed person after person; most gave him plenty of room, their eyes focused straight ahead. Odd, he’d never engendered that reaction from strangers before.

  If they’d all been Kyth, he wouldn’t have been so surprised. Because of the gene pool that had spawned his kind, all of the Kyth were sensitive to the predatory nature of a warrior. These were only average human beings, yet they still tried not to draw his attention as they passed by.

  Their reaction disturbed him on a deep level. He wasn’t the real threat walking the streets of Seattle, even if they didn’t know that. Grimly, he continued on down the street, more determined than ever to find a suitable target for his aggression.

  If he couldn’t locate the renegade Kyth tonight, he’d cheerfully take his bad mood out on whoever had been following him. Their presence was like an unscratchable itch on the back of his neck, irritating and distracting.

  He’d give it another half hour. If he didn’t cross paths with either of his targets by then, he’d head back home. Once he was calmer, he’d make plans for what to do next. Because when it came to crime on the streets, there was always tomorrow.

  Chapter 4

  “I see we have uninvited company.” Sandor moved the drape aside to let Ranulf look out to where Lena Wilson sat watching the house. For some reason, seeing her out there improved his mood.

  The Viking muttered a curse. “I knew she was trouble when she came by the first time. I actually expected her back before now.” Ranulf turned on the television and began flipping channels.

  Sandor glanced at his irritated companion. “You think this Wilson woman didn’t believe Kerry when she told her that she’d only known Coop briefly? She can’t possibly think Kerry had anything to do with his death.”

  If there’d been any evidence that would have led the authorities to their door, they would have been there long before Lena Wilson. The simple truth was that none of them had had anything to do with Maynard Cooper’s death. The not-so-simple truth was that they knew who had killed him, and that the killer was long dead and buried. He wished they could tell Lena the truth, since she cared so much about Coop, but loyalty t
o his own kind took precedence over the grief of one human, no matter how intriguing he found her.

  Ranulf found the ball game on TV and began to watch it, but Sandor couldn’t keep his eyes away from the window. What was it about that woman that made him want to go outside and invite her in, or better yet, go to her hotel room for some privacy?

  Ranulf said, “Interesting expression you’ve got on your face, Sandor.”

  “It certainly is.” Kerry entered the room. “What’s going on?”

  Sandor nodded toward the window. “Lena Wilson has taken up residence outside.”

  Kerry gave him a wide-eyed innocent look. “And that put a moonstruck expression on your face? I wasn’t aware that the two of you had even spoken.”

  He gritted his teeth. “We haven’t. Your husband was just being a jerk.”

  Sandor got down to business. “I wanted to catch you up on my progress. I’ve patrolled downtown the last two nights and checked out the alley where one of the attacks took place. The mugger was a renegade Kyth, all right, but that’s all I know. If I can’t get a bead on this guy soon, I might need help reading a couple of the other locations to see if Ranulf can spot something I missed.”

  Ranulf nodded without looking away from the ball game. “Let me know where and when, and I’ll be there.”

  Kerry said, “Even though no one has been permanently damaged, I’m afraid the renegade’s need to feed will escalate.”

  Looking grim, Ranulf faced Sandor. “That’s what always happens once a renegade starts feeding on the dark end of the energy spectrum. They develop a taste for the buzz and the power it gives them.”

  Which was why there was now an execution order on the bastard. Sandor didn’t relish the role of the Grim Reaper, but that’s what recent events had made him. This time, though, he’d make it quick and as painless as possible. Not like it had been with Bradan.

  Sandor shifted in his chair. “There’s something else. The night before last, someone was following me almost the whole time I was patrolling. Yesterday evening he was back, but for only a short time.”

  The other two sat up straighter. Kerry asked, “Are you sure that it was the same person both times?”

  “As sure as I can be without actually seeing him. Whoever he is, he’s good. I’ve tried to catch him out, but so far no luck.”

  The Viking looked thoughtful. “Maybe I should take over tonight, to see if they’re after you in particular or all of us.”

  Sandor considered Ranulf’s offer. “I’ll try one more night by myself. If he’s back again, I’ve already scouted out a place I might be able to trap him. If that doesn’t work, we’ll both go tomorrow night and double-team him.”

  “Sounds good.” Ranulf settled back to watch the game.

  Hughes entered the room carrying a large tray of food. “I thought you might like to eat in here since the game’s on.”

  Kerry smiled at the butler. “That will be perfect.”

  As Hughes handed out napkins and plates, Kerry asked Sandor, “Anything else I need to know about?”

  “Nope, I’m still waiting on responses to a couple of emails I sent out. When I know more, I’ll fill you in.”

  As he bit into his sandwich, his attention was drawn to the television when the fans jumped to their feet and started cheering. He was pleased to see that the Mariners now had a three-run lead and it was only the second inning. Kerry, a longtime fan, cheered as well. Good friends and baseball—it couldn’t get better than that.

  As the mystery man pulled out of Kerry Thorsen’s driveway, Lena wrote down his license plate number. Then she called McCabe, who promised her that a friend would run the plates without asking too many questions. Satisfied that she’d done all she could for the moment, she headed back to her hotel. Once McCabe called back with the information she needed, she’d know who the guy was and might be able to figure out why he spent his evenings cruising downtown Seattle. Somehow, she doubted he did it for exercise.

  Her cell rang just as she was pulling into the hotel parking lot.

  “Hey, McCabe, that was quick.”

  His laugh rumbled over the line. “Hey, babe, I know people who know people.”

  “I’d tell you how amazing you are, but your ego is already bigger than is healthy for all concerned.”

  His booming laugh had her holding the receiver a couple of inches from her ear.

  “Coop always did say you had a smart mouth. I think he liked that about you.”

  The memory made her smile. “So what did you find out, my brilliant friend?” She parked the car and dug out her notebook and a pen.

  McCabe rattled off the name Sandor Kearn, along with his address. When she was done, he added, “I had my buddy run his name for priors. He’s clean. Not even a parking ticket.”

  A clean record didn’t mean he was harmless, though. Only that he’d never been caught. They both knew that.

  “Thank your friend for me. This is a big help.”

  “Why are you interested in this guy, anyway? Is he a suspect?”

  “No, not yet, anyway. He was at Kerry Thorsen’s house the day I was there, but he never introduced himself. I’m checking into anyone connected with her.”

  “Okay, sounds good. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.”

  She disconnected the call. Sandor Kearn. An unusual first name, but it suited him. What drove him to walk the streets at night?

  He was clearly hunting. Who was he looking for? And what would he do if he realized that he wasn’t alone? He struck her as a solitary hunter, likely to strike out if crowded too much.

  The realization made her shiver as she stepped out of the car into the warm afternoon sun. She’d done her fair share of hunting, too. But somehow, this time it was different.

  “Can we go out again tonight?”

  Kenny was working hard to sound nonchalant, but Sean knew better. There was a good reason Kenny was keeping his eyes averted. The flames flickering in their depths revealed how badly the boy needed to take down another zebra or two. It was very risky to go trolling for victims again so soon, but both prey and predator would be in greater danger if Kenny’s tank was running on empty. Far better to top it off regularly than to let desperation drive the hunt.

  “Sure. We’ll hit the streets about an hour after dark.”

  Kenny’s mouth dropped open in shock.

  Sean got up to get a can of pop out of the fridge. “You’ll learn better control if you’re not starving for it.”

  As the boy pondered that, Sean picked up the pillowcase filled with dirty clothes. “Until it’s time, we’ll hit the laundry room.”

  Kenny’s sneer was predictable. “That’s women’s work. My old man wouldn’t have been caught dead washing clothes.”

  “Yeah, and remember where his rules got him. Around here, you wear ’em, you can help wash ’em. Tara does enough as it is.” Sean tossed the bottle of detergent at Kenny. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go on safari. Come on, Great White Hunter, haul ass.”

  “Very funny.” Kenny rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Hey, does this mean I get to wear one of those funny helmets and carry a big gun, in case we run into a herd of irate elephants?”

  Sean followed him out the door. When Kenny was like this, it was easier to remember why he and Tara had made the boy a part of their small family. Kenny rarely mentioned his life before they’d found him, but there was no doubt it had been a tough one. His mother had disappeared one day, leaving Kenny alone with a father who had been a mean drunk. That temper had landed the bastard in prison doing twenty to life. After a couple of bad experiences in foster homes, Kenny had found living on the streets preferable.

  Hell, change the names and you’d have Sean’s own story—and Tara’s as well. Sometimes life sucked, but the three of them were doing okay together. They looked out for each other, and no one had to sleep with one eye open to watch out for a drunk’s fist coming at you just because you were there.
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  Shifting the bag of laundry to his other shoulder, Sean caught up with his partner in crime. Like he’d said, the sooner they got their chores done, the sooner they could have a little fun.

  The sunset behind the Olympic Mountains to the west was stunning. The intense colors, all different shades of reds and oranges and pinks, lit up the Seattle skyline with a warm glow. Sandor stood on the pier near the ferry terminal, enjoying the show and breathing in the saltwater scent of the air. It was almost time to start his patrol.

  Reluctantly, he turned away from the fading light. There were bad guys out there, human and otherwise. The familiar tingle of energy burned in his fingers. He flexed his hands and rolled his shoulders as all of his hunting instincts moved to the forefront. He used to be a civilized ambassador serving the Dame and the Kyth, known more for his charm and sophistication than for his ability to strip bad guys down to dust.

  And now here he was, patrolling the streets and turning into the barbarian warrior he’d always thought Ranulf to be. Sandor had not been born a real Viking, but evidently time hadn’t weakened the warrior blood that ran in his veins. Rather than a shield and sword, he fought with the inborn weapons nature had given his kind. Failing that, the Glock tucked inside his shoulder harness would do nicely.

  He strolled down the sidewalk, enjoying the early evening bustle of the piers that lined the Seattle waterfront. Maybe luck would be with him and he’d find the renegade tonight. Even more, he wondered if his shadow would be haunting his footsteps again. He hoped so.

  He turned down Denny Way, heading toward Seattle Center. If he were on the prowl looking for easy marks, that’s where he’d start. There were plenty of nooks and crannies where a predator could lurk as he waited for the right victim to meander by. After a quick snatch and feed, the renegade could disappear back into the crowd—especially on a night when there was a rock concert and various other scheduled events scattered across the Center.