A Grave Hunger (6 page)

The child had begun to regain consciousness, and had started quietly whimpering. Large, silent tears streamed down her dirt streaked cheeks. My heart ached for her.

"Hi, my name is Leah," I said softly, addressing the child. I walked toward her slowly, smiling pleasantly. Trying to convey that I wasn't a threat. "We won't hurt you. We are going to take you home."

"Hey, sweetheart, I'm going to pick you up so I can carry you out of here. That ok?" Finlay asked soothingly.

She nodded sombrely. Finlay scooped her up into his arms. She buried her head into his chest and closed her eyes, cringing away from the horrifying scene in front of her.

"You two take the kid to the hospital. I'll deal with this mess," Robert instructed.

I felt relieved that Robert had offered to clean up the scene, still not completely trusting myself to keep it together around all this carnage. Cleaning the scene consisted of burying the bodies and cleaning the room of blood and finger prints, effectively destroying any evidence that we had ever been here, and the horrific events that had happened.

The child kept worryingly quiet on the drive to the hospital. I asked her what her name was, but she had kept silent, obviously traumatised. She clung to me fiercely, never letting the space between us grow more than a few inches. I think she was just glad to have some human contact after having been subjected to unthinkable horror over the recent days.

At the hospital Finlay waited in the car while I took the child inside. We didn't want to draw anymore attention to ourselves, and Finlay being covered in blood would definitely look suspect.

I had fabricated a story of finding the girl wandering on her own. I had been the good Samaritan and had brought her here to get her checked over. No, I didn't know what had happened to her. No, I didn't know her name. I had just found her and wanted to make sure she was ok.

Her silence had ended when I tried to leave. She started screaming and had gripped me tightly, refusing to let go. It broke my heart to see a child in so much pain. Against my better judgement I offered to stay with her until they had her settled,  I didn't care that the police were on the way with questions that I couldn't convincingly answer. I just wanted to make sure she was ok. My promise to stay seemed to calm her, and she allowed the doctors to check her over and give her a sedative. She was dehydrated and weak due to prolonged blood loss, but she would be ok, physically at least. I stayed with her, stroking her hair as the sedative began to take effect. She fought against the drug, trying to keep her eyes open, but she eventually succumbed, her grip on me loosening for the first time since we had left the church.

I left the hospital feeling guilt laden and exhausted, disgusted with myself for what I had done. A multitude of questions buzzed in my head. Would the child be ok? Would they find her family? As a wave of depression washed over me, the same questions kept repeating in my head. Could I handle this job? Was I emotionally strong enough to be a hunter?

CHAPTER 11

"All right, Scotland, enough of the silent treatment," Finlay grumbled.

"What?" I replied, confused. I had been lost in my thoughts since leaving the hospital. I hadn't even realised we were back at our motel.

"You haven't said a word since we left the hospital."

"Sorry, I've been thinking," I mumbled.

"Yeah, you think too much," Finlay replied, a frown crossing his brows. "Don't worry. I've got just the thing to sort that out."

"Sounds ominous," I said unenthusiastically.

"Go into your room, I'll be there in five."

Finlay appeared in my room five minutes later, carrying a plastic bag. He had changed out of his blood soaked clothes and had put on a crisp white shirt.

"My bag of tricks," he announced grinning, holding up the plastic bag.

"I hate to think what's in there," I replied, an involuntary smile crossing my lips. There was just something about Finlay that could make me smile even in the worst situations.

He crossed to the small rickety table, and from the bag produced a bottle of tequila, three limes and a container of salt.

"The best therapy around," he smirked.

"Tequila does bad things to me," I responded warily. My mind flashed to the last time I’d had tequila: a New Year's Eve party four years ago, back in Scotland. My sister and I had thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the New Year with some shots. The resulting embarrassment the following day when I remembered my drunken antics, and the splitting hangover, demonstrated that it was not such a good idea after all. My depression deepened as I thought of my family and how much I missed them.

"Excellent, this should get interesting then."

He retrieved a pocket knife from his jeans and began cutting the limes into wedges.

"Sit," he ordered.

I did as I was told and joined him at the table. He grabbed two glasses, and poured two large measures of tequila. Reaching over, he took my hand and lifted it to his mouth. He gently ran his tongue over my skin and poured salt over the wetness. My depression quickly dissipated as a shiver of desire ran through my body. He watched me intently, his eyes sparkled playfully.

I stared at him for a few moments, stunned, before I managed to replace the look of shock on my face with one of amusement.

"You are such a disgraceful flirt."

"I think it's one of my most endearing qualities." He winked at me.

"It sure is. Bottoms up," I said, raising my glass.

"Cheers." He reached over and took my hand once more and licked the salt off, before downing the tequila and sucking on the wedge of lime. He grinned, the wedge of lime covering his teeth.

"You are such a geek." I chuckled, my depression quickly forgotten.

"Ok, your turn," he announced, stretching out his hand toward me to lick.

A smirk played at my lips, as I rose from my seat. I sat back down on his lap and turned my head into his neck. My tongue gently grazed his skin. I grabbed the salt from the table and poured, careful not to get any near his bite wound. I licked the salt off slowly, before returning to my seat. I downed the tequila, and then seductively sucked on the lime. I finished off my routine by giving him a wink. Two could play this game.

He gaped at me, eyes wide with shock. He wasn't expecting me to do that. A few moments of silence followed as he blinked wildly, struggling to regain his composure.

"And you think I'm a flirt," he choked, roaring with laughter.

"What can I say? If you can't beat ‘em, join ‘em."

"Miss McKnight, you are terrible! I'll need to think of something to top that routine. I need to keep my title of disgraceful flirt intact you know."

"Well, I look forward to seeing what you come up with."

"Challenge accepted."

"Time for round two?" I asked, waving the bottle of tequila.

"Bring it."

I poured two more shots. We drank them quickly, without the salt and lime routine. The cool liquid burned my throat, giving me a warm sensation. I could feel the alcohol already going to my head. He poured me another and handed me the glass.

"Are you trying to get me drunk or something?"

The playfulness returned. "I've just thought of a way to top your last performance. Body shots!"

He grabbed me and lifted me onto the table, a smile played at his lips as I protested. He pushed me down so I was lying flat on the table, holding me firmly as I tried to wriggle out of his grip. My protests just made him grin even more. He lifted my top, exposing my bare stomach and poured the tequila over me. He leaned over to suck the cool liquid from my stomach.

"Aww, I'm all sticky now," I exclaimed in mock horror. Sitting up, I grabbed a nearby towel to wipe the remaining drink from me, stumbling a few times in the process. The alcohol definitely had begun to work its magic.

He beamed at me, obviously pleased with himself.

"Right, Scotland, You need another drink. You are hilarious when you are drunk." He chuckled, pouring me another.

The laughter left his eyes as they suddenly turned serious.

"So you wanna talk about what happened today? You took it pretty hard."

His sudden change in tone startled me.

"I don't know. I kinda just want to forget about it," I replied, sighing.

"They say it's good to talk. I could be your Dr Phil."

I sighed, today's depression threatening to rear its ugly head once more.

"I found today... difficult." I struggled to find the correct words to describe what I was feeling.

"Today was a good day. We killed two evil sons of bitches and saved a girl. If it wasn't for you, that kid would be dead, and God knows how many more people those bastards would have killed. Also for your first proper hunt, you did pretty well. You saved my ass!"

I sighed, looking at the floor. I knew what he was saying was true, but today didn't feel like a win.

"Yeah, we saved the girl, but what kind of life is she going to have? She's going to be traumatised," I answered.

"It's always more difficult when children are involved, but you have to learn to let it go. It will destroy you if you don't."

"I know. It's just difficult. I keep thinking about how unfair life is sometimes," I replied sombrely.

His emerald eyes held a hidden sadness, and they bored into mine as he nodded in agreement.

"Life can be unfair, but you have to think about all the good we are doing, all the lives we are saving."

"Yeah, I know..." My voice trailed off.

A silence followed, and when Finlay did speak his voice had an edge to it.

"You know you can still get out of this life. It's not too late for you," he said, his eyes sombre once more.

"It's not too late for you either," I responded softly.

"Yeah, it is. I was brought up in this life. It's all I know, but you... you can go back to Scotland, become a teacher again. Have a real life."

His voice was intense and when he held my gaze hope flashed across his eyes. It took me a few moments to collect my thoughts before answering. "This is my life now. You and Robert are the only family I have. I'm not about to give that up."

A frown crossed his brows. He watched me silently for a few moments before speaking.

"I really care about you, Leah, and it kills me to see how this crappy job is affecting you. You deserve to be happy, and this life isn't going to make you happy. You're too good for all this."

I gaped at him as his words sunk in. I don't know if it was his touching words, the tequila, or that the sexual tension between us had come to breaking point, but the attraction that I had been fighting ever since I met Finlay was beginning to bubble over. Without thinking, I rose from my seat to sit on his lap once more. He watched me curiously, unsure of what I was going to do next. I leaned forward, touching his cheek with my hand, and tentatively kissed him, cautious of his response. 

He returned the kiss, slowly and tenderly. Although the kiss was gentle, it contained an overwhelming passion that had been denied. I had fantasied about this for so long, had craved the feel of his body against mine. He pulled me closer, running his hands down to the small of my back. As the passion between us heightened, so too did the intensity of the kiss. He kissed me fiercely, his tongue exploring my mouth, sending shivers of pleasure rushing through my body, fogging my mind. As my body responded, my hands reached up to tangle through his hair, gripping him tightly to me. I knew this was wrong, that we worked together, were friends. We had broken our unspoken rule. All logical arguments vanished against the fiery desire for him that was burning through my body. His lips broke away from mine and travelled to my neck, pressing gentle kisses just below my ear, lower and lower, until they reached the hollow of my throat. I suppressed a moan as he pulled me closer still. Then his lips were back on mine, and we were moving in perfect synchronicity.

But then his hands moved from the small of my back and grabbed my upper arms, pushing me away from him, ending the kiss abruptly. He stared at me with intensity, his green eyes filled with longing, seared into mine. We stared in silence for a few moments, both panting heavily.

"Sorry...I shouldn't have done that," I said.

"We... We can't..." His voice trailed off. I had never seen him struggle so much for words.

Embarrassment ripped through me and coloured my cheeks. I rose from his lap and turned my back to him so he couldn't see the self-consciousness in my eyes.

"I'm sorry." He sounded it. "Look, we obviously have something between us, but we work together."

"I know, I know. I get it. It was stupid. I told you tequila did bad things to me." I struggled to change my face into a mask of indifference before turning back to him. I chuckled, but it sounded hollow, even to me.

"No you don't get it." He rose from his chair and stood beside me, pulling my chin up so I could see a multitude of emotions burning in his eyes. "I think there is something more than just sexual tension between us. If we have sex, it won't just be sex. It will mean more. In our job we can't afford to bring that kind of vulnerability on a hunt. Whatever we have between us, those evil sons of bitches will see it and use it against us."

I was dumbfounded. I stared at him, not quite believing what I had heard. His eyes bored into mine, as if they were trying to read me.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was stupid." A deep frown crossed his brows and his cheeks coloured. It was obvious he deeply regretted bring up the conversation.

"I had better go before I make this any weirder between us." He looked for a moment as if he would like to say something else, but then thought better of it.

"Ok, I ... I'll see you tomorrow," I stuttered.

I watched, disheartened, as Finlay left my room. I berated myself for not speaking up and for leaving things the way we did. There were so many things that I had wanted to say. As I listened to Finlay closing the door to our neighbouring room, I wondered what he was thinking, and if things would ever be the same between us.