James peered over at me and considered my question for a moment.
“I told him the Pack was going to send him some help and that we were putting him into the Pack’s rehab program.”
“Does he want that?”
James shrugged. “I doubt it since he didn’t check himself in the first time around, but it doesn’t matter what he wants now. He needs to get sober, that’s all there is to it.”
I digested that tidbit of information. Guess the Pack did what they thought was best and while I agreed Eric needed to get sober, that didn’t mean it should be forced on him. He should have a choice in the matter. The thought led me back to his initial fear. Why was he afraid of James and why did he assume James was there to hurt him?
I tried to find the best way to phrase my next question. I wasn’t sure if James would actually tell me but figured it was worth a shot.
“What do you do?” I asked him, keeping my voice casual as I gazed out of the passenger-side window.
He gave me a perplexed look. “You know what I do. I run the gym.”
James owned Hills Fitness Center, a local gym in Spokane, Washington specializing in mixed martial arts and hand-to-hand combat training. That didn’t explain Eric’s fear though, so I knew there was more to it.
“Not your day job, what do you do for the Pack?”
I knew each member played some part within the Pack’s hierarchy and while most still had a day job, their main occupation lay within the Pack whether it be as minor as working in the kitchens or as major as running Pack security.
James remained silent. After several long minutes I wondered if he was going to answer me at all.
Finally he heaved a sigh and pulled over to the side of the road. Killing the engine he sat still for a moment before turning to face me.
Oh dear, shit was about to get serious.
“I’m the Pack’s Hunter,” he said in a grim voice, staring me straight in the eyes. Oh shit. He was the Hunter. I schooled my expression to hide my shock. This was a big deal, like 500-pound big. I’d been trying to figure out who the Hunter was for close to a year and he’d been right under my nose. Being the Hunter meant you were outside of the hierarchy in a way. He wasn’t an Alpha, nor could he be. But he wasn’t beneath anyone either. The Pack needed a Hunter. I wasn’t supposed to know any of this though. Humans weren’t supposed to know about the Pack’s inner workers. We were outsiders, so staring back into his eyes with a blank expression on my face, I quirked a brow.
James let out an exasperated bark. “You have no idea what that means, do you?”
I shook my head. Oh I knew all right, but saying no aloud would make me a big fat liar and he’d know it. Shifters could scent a lie so a shake of my head was much safer. I smiled as I watched him fidget. James was cool as steel, he was always calm and collected, using humor to lighten any situation, but for whatever reason, the topic of being Pack Hunter made him uncomfortable.
“I’m the one responsible for delivering Pack justice.” His voice sounded defeated, like the words tasted wrong on his tongue.
“Are you not very good at it?” I was confused over why he made his position sound so distasteful. Being responsible for issuing justice on behalf of the Pack made his role as my partner that much more valid and made him a huge asset to the Pack. Very few were capable of being a Hunter.
“No, that’s the problem. I’m good at what I do. Perhaps too good.”
I still didn’t understand why that was a problem. James must have understood my confusion because after another minute he continued. “When a shifter turns rogue, Declan sends me in to handle it.”
I gazed out the window, a pair of crows picked at a deceased carcass of what I could only assume had been a deer based on the size of the body. I sniffed the air, the slight cloying scent of decay coming through the AC vents.
“And what exactly goes into ‘handling it?’” I said, turning away from the scene.
James shrugged and didn’t say anything more.
“You kill them, then,” I said. I didn’t bother to voice it as a question.
“If it’s necessary.”
I nodded. That could be rough. I knew that shifters often went rogue. From what research I’d been able to conduct, there was close to a thirty-percent chance of it. They had to constantly work to keep their animal sides in check and maintain a balance. If signs were caught early enough though, a shifter could be pulled from the edge before there was no going back. I’d heard stories of shifters going off the deep end and killing their entire families in their madness.
About a year ago, there had been reports of a bear shifter going rogue and killing almost an entire community. Over 500 people were massacred in a fit of uncontrollable rage on the outskirts of Cheney, a small town about an hour from Spokane. The Pacific Northwest Pack spread throughout Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and Montana but its primary compound was in Spokane. It had taken the Pack just over an hour to get to Cheney once word of the bear hit their ears. A lot could happen in an hour and rumor was, not much had been left when they’d arrived. I could see why the Pack needed a Hunter. I could also see why it would suck to be the Hunter.
“Do you need to talk about your feelings now?” I asked.
“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”
“Sure do. It’s a wonder you’ve put up with me as long as you have.”
James smiled, a real smile that met his steely grey eyes. “You know, I ask myself that question all the time.”
I jovially punched him in the shoulder. “Jerk,” I said. James flashed his teeth in a feral grin as he pulled the car back into traffic.
“Hey, Ari.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
I smiled. “Anytime, James.”
The rest of the day seemed to go by in a blur. After meeting with Eric, James and I called it a day with plans to speak with Mrs. Blackmore and her husband the following morning. I knew James was ready to make some headway in the case. He was just as eager for justice as I was, but he could tell I was exhausted so when he voiced that he had other obligations he needed to catch up on, and that we’d regroup the following day, I didn’t object.
Spending eight days with sleepless nights searching for Daniel only to find I was too late had taken its toll. That, coupled with the stress of the hunt, put me a little on edge and I could feel myself burning out. Despite my desire to find the culprit, I took the bone James offered and had him drop me off at my apartment. Mike would have my car dropped off later in the evening.
It was only four in the afternoon but my body didn’t care. It craved sleep and food, in no particular order. I dragged my exhausted self up the four flights of stairs to my single-bedroom apartment, pausing only to say hi to my neighbor Melody.
“Hey, Mel,” I said, making my way past the first set of stairs. Melody was perched on the railing near the top of the staircase, her ebony mane falling in waves down her back and blending into the blue-black feathers covering her bird-like wings.
“Hey, Aria,” she said around a mouthful of food. She clutched a small basket in her arms, a wide smile spread across her face like she’d just won a prize.
“Stealing from Ryan again?” I asked.
Melody’s smile grew and she took another bite from her stash. Ryan was another neighbor of mine, one that Melody seemed to have a thing for and being a harpy, she showed her feelings by stealing his food. A strange method, but it seemed to do the job because like all the times before, here came Ryan, storming down the stairs. The heavy footfall of his boots thundering with each step.
“Melody!” he shouted. “Where is it?”
I smiled as I continued along my way, brushing past Ryan. Their banter just like any other day. Listening to their arguing below, I persisted in my trek up the stairs. I eyed the elevator with disdain each time I passed it
on my way up the winding staircase. A small part of me wanted to step inside of its confines and lean against the cool inside wall until it chimed on my floor but I couldn’t. A single step inside that cold metal box would send me into a spiraling panic.
Stupid elevator.
So instead, I walked up what felt like an endless flight of stairs, grateful for my athletic build and strong endurance as I listened to Melody tell Ryan that it was his fault that she stole his food. That he never should have left it out for her to find so easily if he didn’t want it taken. She failed to mention to him that to obtain the food he’d supposedly left out, practically waiting for her, she had to pick the lock on his apartment window and the lock he had recently added to each of his kitchen cupboards. I wondered when he would realize that the harder he tried making it for her to steal from him, the more often she would do it just for the challenge.
Finally reaching the fourth floor, I dug through my messenger bag for my keys, the slight distraction causing me to run headlong into what felt like a solid wall. Looking up I made a correction, the solid wall happened to be a person. I stumbled back and would have fallen on my butt had said person not reached out, grabbed my arm, and steadied me with a slight tug.
As soon as I had my bearings the man quickly released his hold, almost as if he sensed that I didn’t welcome his touch. I eyed him suspiciously, a slight buzzing sounding in my head.
Odd.
I didn’t recognize him, had never seen him in my apartment complex before and I knew every tenant at least by sight if not by name. Maybe he was a neighbor’s friend or relative. Though for some reason the notion didn’t sit right in my gut. There was something about him that seemed off somehow. His eyes were a startling blue-grey, so clear it was like looking into a pool of water. He had sharp cheekbones and a square masculine jaw with a strong slash of a mouth. He looked imposing but there was a lethal edge to him, like a blade. He reminded me of the daggers I kept at my waist, deadly yet beautiful—
“Are you all right?” he asked, interrupting my train of thought. Gah, my brain wasn’t working with him around. The smell of rainstorms assailed my senses. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts I stared up at the god-like statue in front of me. That annoying buzzing still lingered in the back of my mind.
“Yeah, thanks for the save,” I muttered, stepping around his broad form, careful not to brush up against him, while making my way towards my apartment door. There was something about him that made me feel off balance. I didn’t like it.
Pulling out my keys, they jingled as I fumbled to insert the right one into the deadbolt. This was humiliating. I didn’t even have that many keys on my key ring. I could feel his gaze on my back which seriously was not helping.
Dammit I was putting the stupid thing in upside down. I cursed under my breath, finally unlocking the mechanism and pushing the door open. I looked back over my shoulder to see the stranger still standing in the same spot. He had the oddest expression on his face. A look of anxious anticipation almost.
I gave him one last wary look before stepping into my apartment and quickly shutting the door. I threw the deadbolt, then locked the doorknob too. Just in case.
Once inside I tossed my keys and messenger bag on the small dining room table and headed straight into my bedroom at the end of the narrow hallway. My apartment was simple, on the right, the living and dining area with a small open kitchen. To the left down a narrow hallway, my bedroom and single bathroom, sectioned off from the rest of the apartment. It was a strange layout but it suited my needs.
Once in my room I kicked off my military style black leather boots and peeled off my leather jacket. Pulling out a soft pair of grey cotton pants from my dresser drawer, I quickly changed into the more comfortable attire and padded softly on bare feet to my kitchen.
My stomach growled as I made a turkey sandwich with mayo, cutting the crust off. An old habit from childhood I’d been unable to curb. Sandwich in hand, I ate it on my way back to my room practically swallowing each bite whole. Finishing off the last of it, I realized the buzzing in my head had stopped but was too exhausted to care why. Instead I crawled into bed, unconcerned by the crumbs now dotting my olive green comforter. I’d shake them off come morning.
Curling into myself under the covers I closed my eyes and allowed sleep to pull me down into its warm embrace.
The light began to fade from his eyes as I crawled across the floor in an effort to reach my father. My nails were raw and bloody as I struggled to carry myself closer to him, digging into the rough wooden floors with each drag of my body.
“I’m coming,” I panted in between breaths. “Just hang on, Papa, I’m coming.”
I woke gasping for breath, drenched in a cold sweat, clutching the hilt of my dagger as if my life depended on it. I frantically looked around the room in search of our attacker while also taking stock of any injuries. I was perfectly whole.
“It was just a nightmare,” I told myself, though that did little to ease the ache in my chest over the remembered pain. I miss you so much.
Rubbing my hands over my face, I pushed back the wet, loose tendrils of hair that had escaped my braid during my fitful rest and returned my dagger to its resting place beneath my pillow. Taking another deep breath I registered a hint of smoke.
Shit!
My eyes roamed over the room, frantically looking for the source of fire.
“You have got to be kidding me!”
I untangled my body from the sheets, tripping and falling into a heap on the floor before I was able to crawl out of my covers and retrieve an old shirt. I frenziedly swatted at the bedroom curtains with the old t-shirt but the flames continued to rise. Deciding there was no other choice, I ripped the curtains from the window and rushed to the kitchen.
Throwing the curtains into the sink and turning the faucet on all the way, I watched as the flames were snuffed and steam began to rise. The curtains ruined.
Turning the water off, I allowed my body to slide down the smooth wooden cabinets until my bottom met the cool tile floor. I folded my arms across my knees and rested my forehead against them. Closing my eyes I took several deep breaths, my heart still racing from the effects of the recurring nightmare. This was getting out of hand. I had thought the nightmares were fading, but something was bringing the memories back with a screaming vengeance and this was the third time this week they’d plagued me. I missed my parents but it’d been over six years now. They weren’t coming back and I needed to let it go. My subconscious needed to let it go and I needed to let Daniel’s death go. Not the case, no, I wouldn’t let that go. But his death was affecting me in ways I couldn’t allow to continue.
I breathed deeply in an effort to calm my nerves. Small tremors racked my body, the nightmare had shaken me more that I’d like to admit. My skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat. A physical reminder that I needed to relax before I accidentally caught something else on fire.
I peeked at the wall mounted clock through half-closed lids. It was 4 a.m. I’d slept a solid twelve hours and while I was sure my body had needed it, it didn’t seem to have done much good.
I sat on the floor for a few moments before finally moving, feeling more tired than I had when I’d initially lain down. Using the countertop edge, I pulled myself up off the floor and shook the remaining strain from my body. Removing the ruined mess of curtains from the sink, they made a wet plop as they were dumped into the trash bin underneath the counter. Squeezing out the moisture before tossing them in the trash was more effort than I was willing to put into it.
Quietly closing the cabinet door I made my way back to my room and stripped off the cotton pants and tank top I’d been wearing, retrieving new clothing before padding into the attached bathroom. Setting the clothes on the vanity counter, my reflection haunted me in the mirror. Purplish smudges below my eyes and puffy cheeks greeted me along with a scowl, the result of a hea
dache. Cupping my hands, I splashed cool water across my face, not bothering to close my eyes. The cold water was refreshing against my skin. Looking back up, I let the water drip off my lashes and debated whether showering was a good idea or not.
I really wasn’t in the mood to shower. Though, knowing once I stepped under the warm spray that I’d likely feel better. The effort showering took just sounded, well, exhausting. Sighing, I removed my bra and underwear and stepped into the tile enclosure, not bothering to wait for the water to warm. I instead turned it on full blast, hissing as the frigid water hit my back, all signs of exhaustion effectively extinguished.
After what felt like an eternity, the water finally turned scalding and I quickly adjusted the handles, bringing the water to a more comfortable temperature.
I could have warmed the water myself, using my pyro abilities but my body was fatigued, my mind unable to focus and I’d learned my lesson from the past. Fire mixed with a lack of concentration was never a good combination. Warming the water required precision. If I made it too hot, I risked melting the pipes. Something I’d done before when I’d been careless, assuming it would be a simple task.
I let the warm spray cover my body and inhaled deeply as steam began to rise, enveloping me in a warm blanket. When my muscles relaxed and my headache abated, I shampooed my hair and washed my body before turning off the water and carefully stepping out of the enclosure. Wrapping a thick towel around my body I proceeded to dry off before dressing in a pair of black cotton pants and a form-fitting green tee with a black tank underneath.
Wiping the fog from the mirror my fingers deftly plaited my hair leaving the ends to rest down the center of my back. I stared at my reflection for several moments, toying with the end of my braid. My hair reminded me of my mother. She’d had the same rich brown hair I did though our similarities ended there. My eyes were golden brown where hers had been a striking hazel. My complexion, more olive like my father’s, while hers had been a milky white, and my locks were smooth and straight. Hers had cascaded in curls all around her. I contemplated my hair again, knowing I should cut it. It would be the logical thing, but I could never convince myself to do it.
Cursed by Fire (Blood & Magic Book 1) Page 3
