Stalking the Others

by Jess Haines

  Unsurprisingly, the vampire had an entire thread devoted to him, many pages long. He had even posted on it a couple of times. It was full of sightings, notes of his involvement in certain disappearances, and an estimate of the traffic his business was seeing, both in terms of finance and expansion of his ranks. His popularity was undeniable, as was the scary fact of his power, made clear by the documented instances of him or his minions laying the smack down on competitors. Someone had even posted a few pictures of the aftermath of a battle that Mouse and Royce’s chief of security, Angus MacLeod, had participated in behind some club sometime back in the eighties. Some of the remains were barely recognizable as having been a person.

  Royce’s response on the message board was simple, elegant, and chilling, all at once.

  We all do what we must to protect our own.

  Yeah. Real charming.

  It was frustrating that Keith still wouldn’t let me post on the board. I was itching to ask questions. As many as the board answered for me—and make no mistake, it was full of information about Others and their politics that I probably could have happily done without knowing my entire life—it seemed that for every answer I found, two more questions formed in my head.

  Out of curiosity, I checked the sub-forums for other cities, just to see what they might hold. There were threads on all of the big names in their local supernatural communities, too. Some were longer and obviously hotter topics than the others, like the ones on Rohrik Donovan and Royce.

  Vampire-ville was what drew my eye.

  Max Carlyle. Clyde Seabreeze. Ian Taft. Vampires I’d never heard of before—Chuck Masterson in Dallas. Fabian d’Argento in San Francisco. Theodore Welsh in D.C. Alejandro Vasquez in Las Vegas. On and on. A few of them were members of the message board, too. Clyde, the master vampire of Los Angeles, was more active than Royce. His thread was full of pictures of him modeling and posing for magazines and YouTube clips of him speaking on TV shows. Some of the links and pictures had even been posted by him. Overall, it wasn’t very interesting, though he was pretty to look at in a blond, blue-eyed, chiseled, James Dean knock-off way.

  Actually, I take that back. After taking a closer look at his latest picture, make that brown with frosted tips. Yeesh. In that pose, lounging shirtless on a plush couch in some leather pants, and with that gleam in his eye that said he wanted to do bad things all night long, he could have given Royce a run for his money in the smoldering looks department. The vampire was prettier than he had any right to be. Hell, most of them were.

  Reading the threads took my mind off my impending change. Any doubt that I was infected had been wiped away once my body decided that it was switching to a nocturnal schedule. Daylight dug into the back of my skull like daggers. As Rohrik had warned, loud noises now bothered me, and I found myself getting nauseous at the scent of things the others didn’t pick up on, even when I wasn’t wearing the belt. The only symptom I hadn’t shown yet, thank goodness, was a craving for rare or raw meat.

  None of the hunters wanted to be around me while I was like this. Some of the threads on the OtherNet had confirmed my fears. I was showing almost every sign and symptom of having succumbed to the lycanthropy virus. My only consolation was knowing that, at least until I turned, I still had the use of the belt and I still had some time to find Chaz. Not much of it, and maybe no real leads to speak of, but I hadn’t given up yet.

  Though I thought about getting in touch with Arnold now and again about that cure he’d promised to hunt for, and maybe to see if he’d had any word from Sara, the belt strongly advised against it. Since the belt had been a mage in life, I believed it when it said he wouldn’t have found anything that could help me. Plus the risks of being tracked by getting in touch with friends and family while so many were looking for me made it far too dangerous to chance. If Sara hadn’t been keeping in touch with Detective Smith, she might not have been contacting Arnold, either. The only real way to be sure what had happened to her would be to go back to Royce’s apartment building to see for myself—a prospect I knew I would eventually have to face, but was coming to dread.

  Everyone else had long since gone to bed, and the moon had already set for the evening. The latest eye candy in Clyde’s thread soothed the burning in my eyes—but not as much as the pop-up alert that Hawk had finally replied. I nearly dropped the computer in my haste to see what his message said.

  Sorry for the delay. Family and pack emergencies kept me AFK, and looks like your boy does a decent job of pulling a Houdini when he needs to.

  Anyway, looks like newbsauce is staying with a beta, along with most of the dominant wolves in his pack. I’ve got an address for you. Don’t envy whoever they strong-armed into letting them camp.You need the Nightstrikers to help you raid? I wouldn’t take him in PvP unless you’re packing some heavy firearms.We can drive down to the city if you need us to get your back Don’t pull a Leeroy on this one.

  I told myself the tears pricking my eyes were from the brightness of the screen combined with the lack of sleep, not the overwhelming gratitude that washed over me. As much as I could have used their help facing Chaz (and wondered what the hell a Leeroy was), I didn’t want to pull the geeky Weres into my mess.

  I typed back a quick “thank you,” an insincere promise not to do anything rash, and asked for the address. He got back to me in less than a minute with the info and a warning.

  I’m not j/k’ing.There’s something bad brewing in town,and he has something to do with it. Watch your ass.

  No kidding. Here’s hoping I could pull this one off.

  Chapter 17

  My head was swimming with ideas, but I had to wait for Jack and the others to wake up before I could do anything effective. I spent the rest of the night on a stool in the kitchen, hunched over the laptop and impatiently checking the clock between scanning more threads on the message board for useful information.

  There were some things I’d been avoiding. Digging too deep into the activity of one of my enemies, for one thing. Burying my head in the sand was no longer an option.

  Now that I was looking, I almost wished that I could have remained ignorant about the issues involving the Others so that I wouldn’t have had another worry added on top of what was already on my plate. For instance, it might have been nice to know sooner that Max had been spotted making the rounds in other territories—except there was no hint in any of the posts as to why he was doing it.

  Aside from the gripes from someone who had been in Royce’s building during Max’s attack, Others from a few different cities made mention that they’d seen him in Atlanta, New Orleans, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas. Nobody seemed to know why he was there, or who he’d been there to meet with—only that he’d been in town. No attacks, no confirmed meetings with the power players in the area. It was worrisome in a distant, this-might-become-my-problem-later fashion.

  What was he up to?

  It was just my luck that Jack woke up in a bear of a mood. He was determined to get back on his feet and stumbled out of bed to join me in the kitchen, dressed in a loose pair of sweats and a navy wifebeater that didn’t complement the pallor of his skin. Judging by the expression on his face, now wasn’t a good time to ask him for any favors.

  I waited until he’d made himself a cup of coffee and the spines had retracted a bit before I attempted conversation.

  “Thought you might like to know I found the address where Chaz is hiding.”

  Jack grunted.

  “I can take the guys and check it out today. We can make sure he’s still there.”

  Another grunt.

  “If he is, we can form a plan of attack, rally the troops, and get this over with tonight.”

  Jack sipped his coffee, then carefully set the mug down on the sleek granite countertop. “Where’d you get the intel?”

  “A friend. An Other who has it out for Chaz.”

  He sniffed. Rubbed his face. “You never cease to astound me. Trapped in here with the rest of us, and you
’re still more effective than the men I’ve had combing this goddamn city all month.”

  As grudging as the praise was, hearing it from Jack made me glow with pride. Until he opened his mouth again, that is.

  “Too fucking bad you’re going to be one of them. You really would have made a good leader for this outfit when I’m gone.”

  To keep myself from saying something caustic, I got busy pouring myself a cup of the brew he’d made, gulping a few swallows. It didn’t help in the slightest. I didn’t open my mouth until I was sure I had a handle on my temper and wouldn’t say something regrettable.

  “You and I both know it’s never going to happen,” I said, staring into the depths of my mug like it might hold some answers. “You know, I haven’t really thought beyond what’s going to happen after the fight with Chaz. The full moon is only a few days away. Do you... I don’t suppose...”

  Jack pulled out a stool next to me and settled against the counter in a casual lean. The relaxed look was ruined by the sudden bout of coughing that had him doubling over. I thumped his back until the fit eased. He stayed bent over, and I left my hand splayed against his ribs once he got his breath back.

  He didn’t say anything about my touch or withdraw from me. The heat radiating from his body was unhealthy, but somehow I didn’t think he cared much about that. His mind had always been centered on how to care for his people, and what I could do for him both in the short and long term. Nothing more, nothing less.

  He took a deep breath, then another. It almost sounded like he was sucking in air through a wet cloth. His voice was soft, gravelly, and above all, tired. “We have a place. A cage. Sometimes we take the Weres there when we capture them alive. It’s lined with silver, so you won’t be able to get out. We can discuss what to do with you... after.”

  I nodded, too afraid to open my mouth, though his head was bent, so he couldn’t see. He arched his back in a stretch as he sat up, and I withdrew to cradle my coffee in both hands and watch him over the rim.

  Tilting his head back, then side to side to crack his neck, he closed his eyes. “I’ll talk to the others. You’re—even if you’re one of them, you’re too valuable to us.”

  Well, go figure. Either Jack was going soft, or he was starting to ease up on his hatred of all things Other. Hard to say which it was at this point.

  “I see why Royce wants you.”

  I’m not sure if my coffee or my jaw hit the floor first.

  He started as the cup shattered on the linoleum, coffee spilling everywhere. My face felt hot enough that I’m sure it must have been as red as my hair. Sending the stool scraping back to clatter on the floor, I jumped into action, grabbing a towel and kneeling down to clean up the mess. He eased off his stool and knelt down next to me, grabbing my wrist before I had a chance to sop up much of it.

  I kept my head down, my fingers tightly clenched around the wet fabric.

  “Shiarra, you may not think so, but you’ve got a great deal of potential that hasn’t been realized. You’re afraid of this life. Understandable. It’s dangerous, often thankless—but there’s no feeling like the hunt. You have a taste for it now. You’re strong enough to handle it. That’s a good thing to have in a soldier. It’s no wonder the vampire wants you. That’s uncommon enough in this age. That you’re willing to deal with the Others—now that’s rare.”

  Christ. Of course that’s what he meant. Sure.

  “Look,” I said, voice shaking as badly as my hands, “I’m sorry, Jack. I never asked for this. I don’t want this life for myself. I have no idea what I’m going to do after this business with the Sunstrikers is taken care of. I’m more afraid of thinking beyond that point than I am of facing a pack of angry werewolves. You can’t imagine what this is like—”

  His grip abruptly tightened on my wrist to a painful squeeze. I looked up, meeting his eyes. The dark circles under them were more pronounced this close up. His brows were lowered, his thin lips set in a hard line. “Don’t think you know what my life has been like. You have no idea.”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

  “You’re going to have to start thinking about it, whether you like it or not. Time is running out for you, Shiarra. You’ve got decisions to make. We’ll discuss this again after tonight. I expect you to do your best to stay alive. You’ve got the instincts of a survivor, and you’re not getting out of the hard decisions by taking the easy way out.”

  I flushed at the insinuation that I might consciously make a decision to put myself in harm’s way so I wouldn’t survive tonight’s fight. Even if I’d been thinking that was what would happen all along.

  “You,” he said, looking down at his fingers on my arm, clutched so tightly that the skin around where they dug in had gone white and bloodless, “are not going to die tonight. If that means running from the fight, you do it. Do I make myself clear?”

  I twisted my wrist around, breaking his grip and reversing it, so that I now held his hand in an iron hold. “Tell you what, Jack. I’ll make that promise if you’ll do the same. You stay out of the fight tonight.”

  He glared at me, a look I would have flinched from only a few days ago. That steely look was scary—but I’d now seen a side of him that was vulnerable and human, and there was no way he was going to be able to bully me while he was this weak. He kept it up for a good long while, but he also looked away first.

  Holy shit. I’d just out-stared Jack!

  “I can’t make that promise,” he said. He sounded as petulant as a kid who’d just been told Christmas was canceled. “You know I can’t.”

  “Good,” I said. “Then you realize I can’t make the kind of promise you want, either.”

  He yanked his hand out of my grip, rising to his feet. He stalked on unsteady feet to the other side of the kitchen, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard his cup rattled. “Don’t you blackmail me,” he spat. “You don’t have any idea what I’m capable of. I might be sick, but I’m not an invalid. As long as I’m on my feet, I’ll fight. You can’t take that away from me. Nikki can’t. No one can.”

  “I’m not trying to, Jack. I just want to make sure you’re ready for the fight before you go out there and get yourself killed. The White Hats need you a lot more than they need me.”

  That sobered him somewhat. The anger in him was brutal, but his body was too weak to hold it for long. As much as he visibly wanted to stay strong and keep arguing with me, he had no way of countering my logic or showing me just how much he was capable of doing while so sick.

  His fists remained clenched, but some of the tension in his shoulders eased as he slumped over the counter. His words were bitter and grudging, but at least he was starting to see some reason.

  “Fair enough.”

  I started wiping at the coffee again, careful not to cut myself on any shards.

  “You go with Bo and Jason this afternoon to make sure the tip pans out. How much do you trust your informant?”

  “A lot more than I trust yours.”

  That prompted a small smirk out of him. I think that was the first time he’d ever shown any amusement at one of my lame jokes. “Good. That’s good.”

  I snorted and finished mopping up the spill, tossing the shards onto the towel before taking it to the trash. Jack watched me, not saying anything else, making no move to help or to continue badgering me about my choices or his. This was just getting too weird for words. I grabbed the laptop and started to leave, intending to attempt some sleep before the afternoon’s festivities.

  He crowded me when I moved to exit the kitchen, stepping in my way until I stopped in front of him. I opened my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but something in his expression warned me against it. Though it was weird, to all appearances he wanted to say something more, but couldn’t seem to find the words. His hand came up, hovering by my cheek, but he didn’t quite touch me. Was it his illness, the awkwardness of the moment, or nervousness that made his hand tremble?

  He stayed that way
, indecisive, for a long moment. His eyes kept searching my face, looking for something, but never settling. Seeing Jack like this, like he wanted something more from me than cooperation in his plans, was a painfully surreal experience. He gave no voice to whatever thoughts were running through his head, couldn’t say what he wanted from me aloud. There was more under that pale skin and more going on behind those icy blue eyes than he’d ever let on before.

  Whatever it was he was selling, I wasn’t buying.

  Without a word, I brushed past him and stalked back to my couch, not wanting to face him or any of the other hunters until I’d had some time to think things over.

  Chapter 18

  (Days left to full moon: 5)

  I was close to punching Adam. He’d been tapping his foot impatiently for at least half an hour. We were in Jack’s white van, across the street from the house where we’d confirmed earlier in the day Chaz and some of the other Sunstrikers were currently using as their hideout. It was well past one in the morning. The combination of shitty sleep, lack of food, and stress from having to sit on my ass and wait while my target was so close I could practically smell his godforsaken aftershave, was hell on my nerves.

  We were supposed to wait until everyone was asleep, then use a combination of gasoline, Molotov cocktails, and a few flash grenades to light the place up. In theory, it would incapacitate or kill the bulk of the Weres, and the few who managed to crawl out from the flames would come right to us, weak from smoke inhalation and disoriented from the grenades. Adam, Bo, Jason, and I would take our positions at each side of the house to mow down any survivors who tried to escape. Nikki would be mobile, rushing to help whoever needed it most. Keith was our getaway driver and would make himself available as a last resort to pop in and act as additional backup.

  The problem with our plan was that the werewolves were all still awake and moving around. We could see them in the windows. Lookouts, maybe, or possibly it was too close to the full moon for them, like me, to sleep at night. We’d been here since 11 PM, and there was still plenty of activity in the house. With their superior senses, there was no doubt they’d hear us coming long before we had a chance to set the place on fire.