Shadowed (Fated) (5 page)

She had wanted to skip town even before Lucas
arrived, before Victor had shown up, long before she even knew she was a
Hunter. And she owed it to Lucas to find Victor. He would have done the same
for her. In fact, he probably would have already found Victor and killed him.
He wouldn’t have moped around for two months in a darkly fuelled depression,
half-comatose on sleeping pills.

Her biological parents had tried to tell her,
through a cryptically worded message, that she could choose not to be a Hunter
– that she could choose to walk away. Yet here she was – she
glanced at the map on the seat next to her – hunting. Victor had been
right all along and they had been wrong. She couldn’t fight what she was. She
didn’t get to choose. She was a Hunter through and through.

Though this time her prey wasn’t an unhuman. This
time it was one of her own.

Her mother was hosting the knitting circle. Today of all days, thought
Evie with a sigh as she climbed the steps to the back door. The clatter of
knitting needles and the bright murmur of voices stilled as Evie walked into
the kitchen. You could have heard a stitch drop.

For an instant Evie was reminded of a picture she’d
once seen of the women who used to sit at the bottom of the guillotine knitting
while the nobles lined up to have their heads chopped off. It felt like the
knitting circle ladies were waiting for her to climb the steps and kneel down
before them.

She forced a smile onto her face and kept walking,
hearing the clitter-clatter of needles start up behind her like so many
gossiping tongues.

‘How did your schoolwork go?’ her mother called as
she got to the door.

‘OK,’ Evie mumbled, jogging up the stairs. In her
hand was Mrs Lewington’s rolled-up newspaper which she’d taken from the kitchen
counter.

Once in her bedroom she threw her bag to the floor
and sat down on the bed, unfurling the paper and scanning it quickly. The
serial killer story was all over the front page. Two dozen people reported
dead; over a hundred reported missing in the last week alone. No witnesses;
extreme violence in every homicide. There was no pattern in terms of victims or
time of death, no robbery or apparent motives. The police were at a loss,
speculating only that it was the work of several perpetrators.

Evie got up and started pacing, a storm of
adrenaline whipping up in her veins. She was shaking more than if she’d drunk
two litres of coffee, and her stomach felt like it was lined with rock. Running
her hands through her hair she crossed to the window trying to force herself to
think straight.

The police were clueless because they had no idea
what they were fighting. It was Thirsters, Evie was sure of it. Or maybe even
Originals, the older Thirsters, the ones that made Thirsters look like fluffy,
toothless kittens. Evie had killed one back in the Bradbury building using a
shadow blade, the only thing that could make a dent in them. But what if more
of them had come through before the gateway had closed? It was possible, wasn’t
it?

For a brief moment Evie’s thoughts flew to Vero and
Ash, the last of the rogue Hunters. What were they doing now? Were they still
in LA? Were they still hunting unhumans? She didn’t know. She knew that Vero
had wanted out but she had no clue where the two of them might be now. She
hadn’t seen or heard from them since the day at the Bradbury building when
Cyrus and Lucas had died.

There had been no love lost between the three of
them before and there certainly wasn’t now that Cyrus was dead. In their eyes
it should have been Evie who died. She wished she could tell them how much she
wished it had been her also, but it was too late for that.

Evie paused, suddenly realising something. If Vero
and Ash weren’t fighting these monsters, who else would? The police weren’t
going to have a snowball’s chance in hell of stopping a single Thirster, and
not even an army could take on a handful of Originals.

She started pacing her room. Surely there had to be
other Hunters out there. Ones that she didn’t know about perhaps – rogue
Hunters like Vero and Ash, Hunters who weren’t part of the official Hunter
clan, who weren’t purebloods like her. It couldn’t just be Cyrus who had led a
band of rogues. And surely, if there were others, they would know what was
going on, and would do something about it?

As she paced, Evie’s attention kept flicking between
the newspaper lying on the bed and the piece of paper tacked to the wall with
Victor’s name on it.

It was early evening by the time Evie judged it
safe to re-enter the kitchen. The last of the knitting circle had left and her
mother was clearing up after them.

‘Do you want something to eat?’ she asked Evie.

‘No, I’m good, thanks,’ Evie mumbled.

She watched her mum out of the corner of her eye,
weighing the opportunity, and deciding to wait until the best teapot and
creamer were safely stowed on the sideboard before she began.

‘So, mum,’ she started, clearing her throat.

‘Yes, sweetheart?’ her mother answered, closing the
cabinet and turning to Evie.

Evie saw the weight of expectation in her mother’s
eyes, the hope that Evie might be about to start explaining what had happened
eight weeks ago, and for a split second it almost all came tumbling out of her.

Lucas
died.
She very nearly
said it. It was right there on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped herself
at the last moment. She winced and took a deep breath, letting the pain dull to
a savage ache inside. Her mother was still watching her expectantly, eyebrows
raised.

Evie opened her mouth to try again. She had
practised this in her bedroom. This time she wasn’t going to run off without
leaving a note. This time she was going to tell her mother to her face where
she was going.

‘I need to tell you something,’ she began.

Her mother’s face fell and her gaze flew to Evie’s
stomach. Evie groaned inwardly. She knew her mother was thinking,
Pregnant, oh dear lord, she’s pregnant
.
Perfect, Evie thought, that’s just what she needed her mother to believe. How
long would it take before the knitting circle started crocheting baby booties?

‘I …’ she hurried on, then stopped again, unable to
find the words.

Her mother waited. ‘You what?’ she asked after
several more seconds of silence.

Evie could see the worry building, the panic
flaring behind her mother’s eyes, but just as she was about to tell her she was
heading to LA for a few days to see a friend, her attention was snatched by
something outside. Her hearing funnelled and her eyes flew to the back door.

There was someone outside in the dark, hiding.
There – a footstep – so light it could have been mistaken for a
leaf falling. Then, almost simultaneously she became aware of a familiar
tugging sensation at her sternum.

There was a Hunter outside.

‘Evie?’

She blinked at her mother. ‘Huh?’

Her focus was fully on the footsteps, which were
growing more distant as they headed through the orchard and down towards the
river. She tried to calculate who it might be. It wasn’t Jocelyn. There was no
reason for Jocelyn to be skulking through the orchard at the back of the house
when she could just walk right in the door, no questions asked.

Vero and Ash didn’t know where she lived, as far as
she knew, and they weren’t likely to be paying a social call on
her
of all people. Which left only one
other Hunter she could think of. Victor.

Evie brushed past her mother, already scanning the
counter top for a weapon and seeing only her mother’s best teapot.

‘Where are you going?’ her mother shouted after
her.

‘I need to borrow a hammer,’ she called over her
shoulder as she made for the stairs to the basement.

‘That’s what you wanted to talk to me about? Why
didn’t you just say so?’ her mother huffed. ‘You know where your father keeps
his tools –
kept
his tools,’
she corrected herself a little angrily. ‘And what on earth do you need a hammer
for anyway?’

Evie was already halfway down the basement steps.
‘Um, there’s a floorboard that’s come loose in my room.’

‘I can get Joe to fix that,’ her mother shouted
down to her. ‘There’s no need for you to go hurting yourself with a hammer.’

‘I’m not going to hurt myself,’ Evie answered, her
gaze running anxiously over the tools hanging from nails along two walls. Her
hearing was still tuned to the outside. But she could no longer hear anything.
The tugging on her sternum had lessened too.

‘Suit yourself,’ her mother sighed loudly before
marching off.

Evie jumped onto a wooden crate and quickly lifted
down her father’s hunting rifle from where it hung above the door. It had been
rusting up there until a few months back, but after Caleb had come looking for
her that time, Evie had taken it down and cleaned it, scrubbing the rust spots
off the barrel, oiling the firing mechanism and learning how to load it
one-handed in the dark. Now it was pristine. Already locked and loaded. She
hefted the gun to her shoulder and headed for the basement door, pocketing some
spare shells from the drawer on her way.

Once outside she crouched down in the shadows of
the stairwell, letting her eyes and senses adjust to the dark. There. She
caught the faint pull again, as though a fine strand of thread attached to her
clothing was snagged on a thorn bush. She jumped to her feet. If it was Victor
she needed to be fast. He was stronger than her, but she knew she was faster.
He was also a bigger target, so if she could slip through the trees and track
him, she might be able to take a shot.

She sprang up the stairs and darted towards the
tree line, crouching low. Her breathing was coming quick and fast. He’d pick up
on that. She tried to rein it in, not wanting to show anything he could
misconstrue as fear. Her feet were crackling through the piles of leaves
despite her efforts to move silently. Evie paused, pressing her back against
the rough bark of a tree. She closed her eyes and willed her instincts to take
over.

She caught the scent of him first. Something musky
and, overlaid with it, something floral. It was familiar and unfamiliar at the
same time. She frowned, listening harder. There was a crunch, a heavy footfall,
and what sounded distinctly like a sigh. Evie’s eyes flashed open. She swung
out from behind the tree, the rifle at her shoulder and her finger already pressing
down on the trigger.

‘Don’t shoot!’ a male voice shouted.

‘Jesus, what are you doing?’ someone else yelled.
‘It’s us!’

Evie lowered the rifle slowly. Ash stepped forward
out of the shadows, his hands held up in a gesture of surrender.

‘It’s only us,’ he repeated, as Vero appeared
scowling behind him.

‘You couldn’t just ring the doorbell?’ Evie asked,
her heart hammering wildly. ‘I almost killed you.’

‘We didn’t realise you’d be armed,’ muttered Ash,
frowning at the rifle.

‘Well, what are you doing sneaking around my
orchard in the dark? Who does that?’ Evie asked, anger taking over now the
adrenaline was draining away.

Ash took a small step forward, bringing his arms
slowly to his sides. Evie saw that he was moving fine, as fluidly as ever
– with no trace of the injury he’d sustained in the fight at the Bradbury
two months back.

‘We needed to talk to you,’ he said, ‘and Vero
figured showing up at your front door might not be such a good idea. What with
your mum being home.’

Evie studied him closely for a second, her eyes
flitting to Vero before returning to settle on Ash.

‘What do you want to talk to me about?’ she asked,
already feeling pangs of unease.

Ash paused, his dark brown eyes glimmering in the
moonlight. ‘How are you?’ he asked.

Evie shrugged in answer.

Ash nodded as though he understood what that little
gesture meant. ‘Any news of Victor?’ he asked. ‘Has he been back here?’

‘No,’ Evie answered. ‘But I’m going to find him.’

Ash shot her a questioning look, but then he nodded
once again. He understood the need for revenge. It was the one thing they all
had in common, other than grief. Cyrus had once claimed that revenge was what
made the world go round. Back then Evie had argued with him that it was love.
But now she knew better.

‘Just ask her, Ash.’

Evie’s eyes flashed to Vero. She was wearing her
normal ensemble – Doc Marten boots with green laces, and a pretty floral
dress with a lace collar. Her wrists were bound with leather cuffs and her hair
was cut short and spiked upwards. In the moonlight, Evie could see the
piercings on her face glittering like shadow blades.

‘Ask me what?’ Evie asked, her stomach already
contracting tight in trepidation.

‘Have you been watching the news?’ Ash asked.

Evie drew a long breath. She’d known as soon as
she’d laid eyes on the two of them that that’s why they were here. She’d just
been praying that she was wrong.