Shadow Hunt

by L. L. Raand

  “Go,” Dasha shouted.

  Jace revved the engine and they tore out of the Compound. Sophia grabbed the hand strap as the Rover jolted through the gate, and looked behind her. Callan directed Adam, loaded down with medical gear, into the last of three Rovers in a convoy of armed Weres waiting to leave.

  She hoped Adam would be able to handle the wounded at the front. She swallowed and stared straight ahead as the Rover bounced along the single track through Pack land. She hoped she would be able to handle whatever was coming.

  *

  The farther Tamara and Clint made their way down the mountainside, the more distant the intermittent gunfire sounded. The trees provided some cover and shaded them from direct sun, but Tamara’s hair was drenched with sweat and her shirt clung to her chest as if she’d been hunting all day under a summer sun. They’d been carrying the wounded for almost an hour over rugged terrain and Clint was tiring, although he would never admit to it. His face was pale and his steps less steady than they had been. She probably had five times his strength, and she was aware of Gray’s weight but not bothered by it. She was sweating more from worry than exertion.

  Gray had stopped talking a few minutes ago, and although her breathing seemed normal, she was weak and blood still seeped from her shoulder. Tamara strained to hear the sounds of approaching vehicles or the voices of other Packmates, searching for some indication reinforcements had arrived to take the wounded back to the Compound. All she heard was Clint’s ragged panting. “We should stop.”

  “No,” he grunted. “I don’t like the looks of this one. He needs fluid and this trip isn’t doing the hole in his leg much good. The bleeding’s picked up.”

  “I’m not even sure we’re headed in the right direction,” Tamara said. “Since we have to avoid the trails in case the Blackpaws are scouting them, we could end up walking way out of our way.”

  “As long as we’re going down, it’s the right direction. You think they’re following us?”

  Tamara stopped, turned, and scented the air. “I don’t think so. Not yet at least.”

  He cocked his head and regarded her curiously. “You really can smell them?”

  She stared. Clint had turned out to be as good a shot as he claimed, and he was brave enough. But he was human, and when he asked a silly question like that one, she was reminded just how different they were. Could they all ever really live in harmony? “Yes.”

  “Listen, I always heard…”

  Her jaw tightened. “You always heard what?”

  “I always heard you could heal anything. Why aren’t these two healing? Shouldn’t they be spitting out the bullets or something so the wounds can close?”

  Tamara had never mingled much with humans. She kept to herself when outside the Pack, and unlike some of her Packmates who lived with humans in college or worked with them after, she had gone right into military training. Could it really be that humans were so ignorant? No wonder they feared the Weres so much. She didn’t want to say too much. It wasn’t her job to educate humans, maybe it wasn’t even wise. But he was risking his life for them, and she owed him some kind of answer. “No, that’s not right. We heal better after we shift, but we need medical treatment first. Fluids, sometimes removing the bullets or counteracting a poison, just like you would.”

  “Huh. Handy, though. Sounds like shifting makes recovery a lot faster.”

  The tension in her jaw disappeared. “It does.”

  As if realizing they’d stopped, he settled Acer a little higher on his shoulder and started working his way through the brush again. “Well then, we better get these two the treatment they need so they can go all furry and heal.”

  “Furry?”

  “Well, what do you call it?”

  “We don’t call it anything—it’s just who we are. But for the record, it’s pelt. Not fur. Fur is for rabbits.”

  His usual jocular expression grew serious as he looked at her across the wounded Weres they both carried in their arms. “Do you think I could see someday? Your other self?”

  “Why?”

  “I guess I’d just like to know all of you.”

  Tamara lifted her chin, let her eyes go cold. She didn’t want to be known. Not by anyone. “Let’s get these two to safety.”

  He nodded and looked away. “Sure.”

  “Then I’ll think about it.”

  He grinned. “Sure.”

  *

  “Daniel,” Sylvan said, “vehicle approaching. Cover the clearing from behind the trees.”

  Daniel slipped away, and Drake joined Sylvan standing in front of Torren and Misha. She wasn’t sure from where the greatest danger might come—through the Gate behind them or out of the woods ahead. A Rover burst into the clearing and careened to a stop, kicking up clods of dark earth and a flurry of leaves. Max jumped out from behind the wheel and Andrea emerged from the passenger side. Andrea held an automatic rifle and scanned the surroundings. Drake welcomed the protection but kept her attention on the archway between the trees. She could almost see the helmeted horsemen galloping through the Gate on wings of fire. If she ever had a chance to repay Cecilia for her hospitality and the injury to Sylvan that even now wept a steady stream of bloody fluid down Sylvan’s back, she would do it face-to-face and not delegate some soldier to exact retribution. She’d do it with her own teeth and claws, and quickly. A wolf did not play with its prey.

  Sylvan strode toward Max. “Did you bring a medic?”

  “No,” Max said. “We came from the city. We were closest when Callan informed the centuri of your position. Another Rover is on its way from the Compound with a medic. We thought you might want to get out of here. We’re rendezvousing at Nocturne.”

  “I would like very much to get us out of here.” Sylvan grabbed his shoulders, jerked him close, and held him for a second. He rubbed his stubbled jaw against her throat and she released him. “Can you get Torren in the back?”

  Max stared down at Torren, who still lay across Misha’s lap. Her eyes were closed, her breathing barely discernible. The wounds in her neck had not healed but the bleeding had stopped. Her skin, always translucent, was practically transparent, so thin and fragile she seemed almost made of air. “What the hell happened?”

  Misha looked up, her eyes dark pits, and growled a warning.

  Max raised an eyebrow. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

  “Misha,” Sylvan said firmly. “We have to take care of her. You have to let her go.”

  Misha showed her teeth.

  Drake crouched by Misha’s side. “It’s all right. We want to help her. You know you can trust us. You can stay with her the entire time. But Max needs to put her in the Rover. Let him take her.”

  “No.”

  “You can hold her hand. I promise you, she’ll be all right.”

  “Come on, little one,” Max said gently. “Let me help her.”

  Misha’s jaw opened and her canines jutted forward.

  Andrea looked down at Misha. “The only chance she has of surviving is with the Pack. How much do you trust your Pack?”

  Misha shuddered and nodded. When she loosened her grip, Max slid an arm beneath Torren’s shoulders and under her knees and effortlessly lifted her. Misha sprang to her feet, keeping Torren’s hand clasped in hers, and followed Max to the Rover. He settled Torren in the back and Misha jumped in. Drake, Sylvan, and Daniel followed. Sylvan crouched just behind the front passenger seats to see out the windshield, Daniel took a position where he could watch through the rear windows, and Drake knelt by Torren across from Misha. Andrea got in front with Max, and he swerved the Rover around the small clearing and plunged into the woods. He kept the headlights off.

  “Well done back there,” Sylvan murmured to Andrea.

  “Basic Psych 101.”

  Sylvan laughed shortly. “Does it work on Max?”

  “Not yet.”

  Drake checked Torren’s pulse, not certain if Fae physiology would be anything like human physiology,
but needing to do something. She felt the thready beat of blood whispering beneath the skin of Torren’s throat. She was in shock, at least that’s what she would’ve diagnosed in a human.

  “Max,” she said, “I think you should hurry.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  After Luce delivered Veronica back to the lair and gave her the reward she’d been craving, she left her asleep and went to Francesca’s boudoir to report. The day was upon them, and she wanted to feed. From outside the room, she smelled Were and human blood and sex. Francesca had already begun her pleasures.

  She raised a hand to knock just as Francesca’s voice whispered through her mind. Good morning, darling. Come join us.

  Luce let herself in and bowed. “My Queen.”

  Francesca reclined on the sofa in front of the fireplace, Dru stretched out beside her and a human servant on the floor at her feet, his head resting on Francesca’s thigh. Francesca idly stroked the human’s curly red hair, as she might any other pet. Dru flashed Luce a contented smile. Her shirt and pants were open, her skin still slick with sex.

  “Where did you go?” Luce asked. The cat hadn’t been in the vehicle when she and Veronica left the lab. A human servant had been waiting to drive them back to the lair.

  “I thought a visit to Raptures might be a better use of my time.”

  Francesca smiled at Dru. “I’m afraid we’ve been too occupied to discuss business, but now that Luce is here, we’ll want a full report.”

  “Of course,” Dru said. “Our new wolf friends have been busy gathering recruits, including some cat Weres, to our forces. We now have a respectable new guard that will allow you to travel more securely, my Queen. And the Weres are all eager to host in exchange for their allegiance.”

  “Very good,” Francesca purred. “You have done well.”

  For an instant, Luce considered disposing of the cat. Dru might only be a Were, but Francesca seemed inordinately fond of her. Perhaps when the cat had fulfilled her purpose, which hopefully would be soon, Francesca could be convinced it was unwise to keep an outsider so close to the throne. Weres had their place in bed, but not in the council chamber.

  Francesca turned her attention to Luce, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes, and Luce wondered if Francesca had been probing her mind.

  “How is the good doctor?”

  “Satisfied for the moment.”

  Francesca’s dark brow winged upward. “You don’t seem to be.”

  Luce schooled her features to nonchalance. Francesca had little patience for dissatisfaction among her ranks, and she wanted no cause for Francesca to doubt her. She was centuries younger than the Queen, but she’d existed long enough to witness the consequences of Francesca’s wrath. She had no wish to be entombed and left to starve or go mad. “I’ll admit to still being hungry. The human is too weak to satisfy any longer.”

  “I am sorry.” Francesca smiled and stretched an elegant arm out along the top of the sofa until her fingertips touched Dru’s shoulder. Dru rumbled and rubbed her cheek on Francesca’s hand. “Humans are just so…lacking. I’ll call for a servant to meet your needs.”

  “That’s not necessary, my Queen.” Until now, they’d shared Dru, since the cat had been one of the few Weres available, and the human servants were too frail to truly satisfy. Now it seemed Dru was to be Francesca’s alone.

  “Nonsense. The youngling Dru found for us has brought quite an interesting clutch of hosts to us. I haven’t sampled all of them, and we mustn’t let them go unsatisfied.”

  “As you wish.” Luce bowed her head. The ache in her midsection intensified and her mouth flooded with feeding hormones. Veronica had succumbed to bloodlust the instant she’d taken her vein, and when she’d realized how weak the human’s blood had become, she’d taken almost nothing. The craving was close to madness now. She shivered and Francesca smiled again.

  A moment later, Daniela appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Mistress?”

  “Bring a host for Luce. That young dark-haired wolf. The one with the very lovely mouth.”

  “Of course.”

  “Now,” Francesca said to Luce. “Tell me about your evening.”

  “Veronica contacted Nicholas and wants the lab fully staffed. I heard her promise him results very soon.”

  Dru hissed. “What kind of results?”

  “I gathered she thinks she’ll be able to manufacture some chemical that will render them…impotent or fatally diseased.”

  “Neither will meet our immediate needs.” Francesca sat up straight, her casual indolence gone in a flash. The lethal predator she was peered from her violet eyes. “I’ve always found the entire idea of a biological annihilation a little untenable. Really, Nicholas has been trying to achieve it for years and who’s to say it won’t take decades more?” She laughed. “Ordinarily, time is inconsequential, but with the state of human politics since Anthony Mir had the idiotic idea that all of us should live in harmony with humans, we need to move more quickly.”

  Dru grunted. “That’s why we need some direct action against Sylvan Mir.”

  “Exactly,” Francesca said. “The goal of the Shadow Lords is to work behind the scenes to undercut these negotiations with humans, but that seems to be failing. Sylvan remains the obstacle, and Cecilia has yet to deliver her as promised.”

  “The Fae are not the most reliable of allies,” Luce said carefully.

  Francesca laughed. “How can any creature whose reality is as shifting as the wind be trusted? But I had hoped Cecilia’s offer to turn Sylvan over to us was genuine.”

  “Sylvan is clever,” Luce said. “She might have escaped.”

  “If so, we’ll soon know.” Francesca sighed. “And we are not yet strong enough to eliminate her.”

  “We might have an opportunity sooner than you expect,” Dru said. “My new sources at Raptures tell me the Blackpaws struck Sylvan’s patrols early this morning. Just a small skirmish, but enough to get her attention.”

  Francesca frowned. “We really don’t have the resources to go to war.”

  “No, we don’t,” Dru said, “but we don’t want a war. We want an ambush.”

  Francesca smiled. “And I take it you have some ideas about that.”

  “I do.”

  The door opened and Daniela escorted an adolescent male Were into the room. His dark hair, tangled and thick, reached his shoulders, and his green eyes glittered with chips of gold. He was shirtless, wearing form-fitting trousers and no shoes. His torso was heavily muscled like all Weres, and a thick line of dark pelt bisected his lower abdomen. From the looks of the cock trapped against his belly beneath his pants, he was more than ready to give his body as well as his blood.

  Francesca held out her hand. “Come here, darling, and sit beside me.”

  He leapt to Francesca’s side and settled between her and Dru. She kissed him and stroked his abdomen, slicing a thin path down to the top of his pants with a nail. His hips jerked as blood welled up, and she murmured, “Careful. Don’t be in too much of a hurry.”

  She opened his pants and gestured to Luce. “There’s room for you, my senechal.”

  Luce started. Francesca had been treating her as her second, ever since Michel had betrayed them all, but had not acknowledged her openly until now. “Yes, my Queen.”

  She knelt between the male’s thighs as Francesca reached into his pants, gripped his cock, and pulled him free. He groaned and his dark skin misted with pheromones. Luce’s hunger gnawed at her insides, and her incisors throbbed.

  “This time, you can take as much as you want,” Francesca murmured, stroking him as Luce slid her incisors into him.

  Luce hissed as the sweet power rolled through her, his blood so much richer than Veronica’s. As the lure of lust and blood swept her up, she reminded herself to take care that her usefulness to the Queen not be tied to Veronica’s. The human’s value was diminishing quickly.

  *

  Max propelled the Rover out of the woods, shot across Nocturn
e’s nearly empty lot, and veered around behind the club. The back door burst open and an armed phalanx of guards in black trooped out and surrounded the vehicle. Max rolled down the window.

  “How’d you know we were coming?” he asked.

  Katya, also in black with a rifle slung over her shoulder, stood out among the slender, pale guards, her shoulders broader, her features stark and dangerous. She grinned in at him, her canines gleaming in the sunlight. “Jace called. They’ll be here in five minutes.”

  A blond with the distinctive ethereal beauty of a human servant who was no longer quite human approached Katya. “We have a follow-car ready for you, Consort. Blaze will drive. Renee and Ricard will be in the second car.”

  “Thank you, Alon. See that the guards are doubled on all the doors and the Liege’s quarters inside.”

  “Yes, Consort.” He saluted and melted away.

  “Fancy,” Max grumbled.

  Katya grinned again, leaned on the door, and looked inside. “Alpha, Michel extends her greetings and offers our guards to accompany you to Pack land. Our Were blood slaves have heard talk of renegade Blackpaws recruiting mercenaries. Rumors are you’re the target.”

  Sylvan leaned forward. “They’ve already sent a raiding party across our borders. We appreciate the escort.”

  “We are at your service, Alpha.”

  “Are you sure you are secure here?” Sylvan asked. “We do not want to weaken your forces, especially during daylight.”

  Katya’s eyes streamed gold. “Michel and our Vampires are well protected. And we are honored to assist the Pack.”

  “Your aid is noted and appreciated,” Sylvan replied formally, as befitting the respect due the mate of an ally. “We stand ready to support you should the need arise.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And, Katya,” Sylvan said, a note of command entering her voice, “do not forget you will always be Pack.”