Authors: Shannon K. Butcher
Blood Hunt (31 page)
Hope was freezing from the inside out. Jodi was gone and it was her fault. She wasn’t sure what she’d done to cause it, but she knew that it had something to do with the black void of her forgotten past.
The auras of the men in front of her and those in the surrounding cars were too bright. They stung her eyes, nauseating her with their chaotic swirls of color. She closed her eyes and focused on the feeling of air sliding in and out of her lungs.
Too much had happened in the past few days, and she feared she wasn’t strong enough to handle it. Not that she had any choice. This was her mess. Her responsibility. She had to find a way to fix things before it was too late.
Jodi.
She willed her friend to hang on and prayed that the merciful God Sister Olive had told her so much about would keep Jodi safe.
The reason for all of this was inside her somewhere, in her past. She’d done something bad or angered someone along the way, and now they were taking their revenge. She had to break through that mental wall and figure out what had caused this before anyone else was hurt.
Logan was speaking quiet directions to Nicholas in the front seat. Hope kept her eyes closed and let the low sound of his voice calm her nerves. There was something about him that called to her, pushing her to try to get closer no matter how much he shoved her away.
She knew her actions were destined to cause her heartbreak, but she felt out of control and unable to stop herself from careening toward the inevitable.
For the moment, she needed to do whatever was within her control, and that meant finding a way to uncover the source of this pain she was causing others. If she knew what she’d done to make this happen, maybe she could find a way to make up for it.
She moved back through her memories to the night they stopped. The first conscious thought she had was of being cold. Confusion set in swiftly and she wondered why she was there, in the dark, alone and naked.
Fear swiftly overcame the cold and confusion and she huddled, hugging herself in a futile effort to offer herself comfort. The lump in her palm drew her attention and she looked down and read the name on the wooden amulet.
She could read, which meant she’d been educated. She spoke English, though Sister Olive had commented on her strange accent early on.
Hope had rid herself of it, not wanting anything to draw attention to how different she was from others. It had been almost a year before she’d realized that other people didn’t see auras the way she did. She’d mistakenly referred to the strange color surrounding a small child once and his mother had looked at her like she was insane.
Her research had revealed that others saw auras, but she’d never once had the courage to share that she did as well. Not even with one of them.
Hope pressed up against the spot where her past disappeared. She prodded at it, forcing herself to envision different scenarios, hoping one of them would feel right and click into place.
This was something she’d done a thousand times before, using characters from books and movies to give her ideas for who she was or from where she’d come.
Nothing fit. Even now, she forced herself to think of all the bad things she could have done to cause someone to hate her enough to hurt Jodi. Had she been involved in drugs? Gangs? Was she connected to organized crime?
Had she killed?
A heavy sigh of regret filled the air around her. She hoped she hadn’t done any of those things, but proof was stacking up against her. There had to be someone out there who knew who she was and what she’d done. Maybe it had taken them this long to find her.
At least now she had an idea of why she wouldn’t have wanted to be found. Maybe she’d erased her own memories, on purpose.
A resonant hum filled her head as that idea struck a chord. She held her breath, tentatively poking at the idea.
The blank wall that had always stood there seemed to bulge inward, like someone pressing on a balloon. It was no longer rock hard and unyielding. She’d found a soft spot—one that said that whatever had caused her amnesia had been self-inflicted.
No. That couldn’t be right. She’d never do this to herself. She’d never take away something so precious as her memories. Those were the things that made a person who they were. Past actions defined people. How could she have willingly given up her identity without a fight?
She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. And yet it seemed to fit.
A pounding headache broke out behind her eyes as she began to question the kind of person she’d come to think of herself as. She wasn’t the kind to give up, even when things were hard. She fought.
She’d fought for years to make a place for herself. A name for herself. She’d struggled for everything she had and would do so until the day she died. She created. She didn’t destroy.
And yet, given the chance, she’d rip apart the man who’d taken her friend. She wasn’t afraid of violence. She’d been taught how to deal with it.
Hope stilled as that single thought broke free. She didn’t remember a single lesson in fighting and yet the knowledge was there, as sure and solid as if it were part of her bones.
Someone had taught her the ways of violence, but she couldn’t remember who, which led her to believe that it had happened in her past.
She pressed on that thought, being careful not to push too hard. She didn’t want it to slip away. Not now. Not when she might well be given a reason to draw on those lessons in violence.
Nothing came to her. No new thoughts. No images. No ideas. Her mind kept whirling around the question of what kind of life would she have led that would have trained her to fight and then allowed her to wipe the slate clean?
She couldn’t think of a single thing that made sense, and with every second that passed by, that soft spot seemed to harden again, thwarting her.
“Jodi’s ahead,” said Logan, breaking her concentration. “So is the Dorjan.”
The front windshield shattered as bullets hit it, and they went sliding off the road in a violent spin.
Logan leaned to the left, ensuring that any bullet that hit Hope would at least be slowed down by going through his body first.
Nicholas made quick work of correcting their spin, then gunned the engine, charging the car from which the shot had been fired.
“Don’t hit him,” warned Logan. “Jodi is probably in the trunk, unprotected.”
“Shit,” spat Nicholas; then he unbuckled his seat belt. The SUV skidded to a halt, and as soon as it was in park, Nicholas jumped out and drew his sword.
“Stay here,” said Logan. “Keep low.”
He slid from his seat, using the front of the SUV as cover. Another gunshot rang out and Nicholas jerked back.
He’d been shot.
A scream of rage bellowed out of Nicholas as he lifted his sword and closed the distance.
Logan feared for Nicholas’s life, but even more he worried about what would happen to Hope if she no longer had his sword to fight off this Dorjan and any other Synestryn who would be drawn to the scent of Nicholas’s blood.
Logan darted across the frozen ground, using a burst of power to speed him. He arrived at the car only a split second before Nicholas.
Blood seeped from the Theronai’s arm where the bullet had penetrated. The metallic scent of it filled his nose, making his mouth water. As rich as Nicholas’s blood was, it wouldn’t take long for nearby Synestryn to sense it and come running.
The Dorjan fired again, right into Nicholas’s chest. The Theronai jerked back from the blow, snarling in pain. He brought his sword down, aiming for the man’s hands poking out of the open window. The man jerked back at the last moment, but the blade knocked the gun from his hands.
Nicholas grabbed the man by his shirt and ripped him out through the window. His blade was in his fist, which he pulled back and struck the Dorjan with the butt of his sword. The blow landed, rattling the Dorjan’s teeth. Nicholas’s eyes opened wide in shock. He dropped the man and stumbled back to reveal the hilt of a knife protruding from his chest.
Logan closed the last few feet of distance as the Dorjan crumpled unconscious to the ground.
Nicholas slid down, barely catching himself on all fours. He reached for the knife.
“No!” shouted Logan, shoving a strong compulsion into his words. “Don’t pull it out.”
The Theronai could bleed to death before he could prevent it if that blade was removed. He knelt beside Nicholas and helped ease him to the ground.
The warrior’s breathing was shallow and uneven. The sound of his heart was all wrong, telling Logan that there was a good chance the knife had hit it.
Logan was vaguely aware of a car door slamming shut. He heard footfalls quickly approaching. Hope.
He didn’t dare look up at her. The horror that would surely show on her face would be too much of a distraction and right now he needed to keep his wits about him.
“Jodi’s in the trunk. Free her. There should be duct tape in our vehicle. Restrain the Dorjan.” He didn’t check to see if she complied. He trusted she’d do what was necessary.
Logan gathered his power and sought out the worst of Nicholas’s injuries. The knife had indeed nicked his heart, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. He grabbed the knife and slowly retracted it as he healed the wound shut from the inside out.
He blocked out the raw sounds of pain coming from Nicholas, shoving his consciousness into the other man’s mind enough to hold him still while he worked. One inadvertent twitch and the damage could be fatal.
Strength fled his body as he worked. The knife was now out and the bleeding stopped, but he had two bullet wounds left to mend before he could rest.
“Take what you need,” said Nicholas through gritted teeth. “We have to get the women out of here. My blood . . .”
Logan didn’t ask if he was sure. He simply pulled Nicholas’s head to the side and bit deep, drawing strength from the other man to heal his wounds.
The rush of power filled his head for a moment before he could control it and focus. He shoved the bullets out and used the quickest, most effective method of healing he could. It was also the most painful, making Nicholas’s body bow off the ground in an arc of agony.
Logan hated the other man’s suffering. He would have preferred more time to ease the healing process along, but they had none. His only remaining choice was to will Nicholas to sleep, which he did with a harsh, unyielding command.
He finished the healing process, then stripped all the bloody clothing from Nicholas’s body, leaving him bare from the waist up. He eased Nicholas’s heavy body to the passenger’s seat of the SUV. With the power the Theronai’s blood had given him, it was no effort.
Jodi was lying in back, unconscious. Logan laid his hand on her head and closed the wound on her hand. Her blood wasn’t powerful enough to draw demons unless they were close, but he used a paper napkin to wipe away what he could.
Hope was back near the Dorjan. His car door hung open and she’d taped his hands to the interior handle. Logan grabbed Nicholas’s sword from the ground and handed it to her. “Please take this back to the others and wait for me in the car.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to stop this man from hurting you again.”
“You’re going to kill him?”
Logan was riding along a thin edge, barely staying in control of the rage he wanted to let loose. He kept his voice even through a sheer act of will. “This man tried to hurt you. He abducted Jodi. He shot and stabbed Nicholas. Death is too good for him. Now go! We don’t have much time before demons find us.”
Hope nodded and stepped back.
Now there was no one standing between him and the man who’d attacked Hope.
He pressed his hand to the man’s head and then touched his thoughts.
The taint of Synestryn hit his senses, making him gag. He stomped on that reflex, forcing himself to ignore the vile touch of evil. Without any grace, he shoved his way into the other man’s mind, searching it for the motivation for his attack.
His name was Leonard, but he’d taken on the nickname Hacksaw as a teen. His past had been plagued by drugs and violence. He had no education to speak of, but what he lacked in schooling he made up for in dedication.
Leonard would do anything for the Synestryn named Krag, the one he referred to as the master.
The face of a Synestryn lord hovered over Leonard’s thoughts, motivating every facet of his life. Krag’s skin was hairless and scaly in places. His lips were so thin they were almost nonexistent, unable to hide his pointed teeth.
And despite all of that, Krag’s resemblance to a human was unsettling. Like the Synestryn lord, Zillah, Krag would have been able to walk among humans in the dark and likely go unnoticed.
The fact that another creature like Zillah existed was proof of just how far Synestryn kind had gone to blend in with their prey.
Logan let the import of that news pass him by. He’d consider it later, but for now he needed to finish this job and be out of this puppet’s mind as fast as possible.
He passed images of other people who were in Krag’s thrall. The stream of faces was impressive. The latest was a young woman with hot pink – tipped hair and matching high-tops.
Rory. Hope’s missing friend.
That was not a coincidence. Logan was certain of that. Krag was somehow tied to the missing people. Maybe all of them. He couldn’t be sure without descriptions, so he filed away those memories of Leonard’s to ask Hope about later.
The man’s vile thoughts twisted in Logan’s mind, urging him to hurry.
He homed in on Leonard’s thoughts of Hope. He’d been sent to fetch her. He’d known what she looked like, where she lived.
Which meant only one thing: So did Krag.
If Hope was being hunted, she was in deep danger. She couldn’t stay here in the city. He had to get her to safety. Now, while he still could.
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