The Claimed

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The Lost

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T
he flares of energy shooting off Alexander’s aura were Christopher’s first clue that his father was weak enough to be defeated.

The second hint was the way his father rubbed at a spot on his chest. The action left dirty streaks on the pristine white cotton shirt from the pustules beneath that ruptured with each irritated stroke of Alexander’s hand. Clearly his energy was too low to control the pox contaminating his Shadow Hunter body.

“What happened to my men?” Alexander said, agitation apparent in every jerky movement, a rash emerging along the edges of his collar. Soon it would blossom into even angrier sores as his father allowed emotion to eat away at his control over his life force.

“I suggest you call the Monmouth County Coroner’s Office. I hear they have some unusual objects in their possession,” Christopher replied drolly and walked to the bar tucked along one side of Alexander’s office. He picked up the lead crystal decanter and waved it toward his father.

“Would you care for a drink, Alexander?” Christopher asked, as if his future and the very fate of the Shadow Hunters weren’t at stake. Inside, however, his gut churned with the possibility that since his father’s command was so diminished, he wouldn’t hesitate to attack in order to replenish his flagging energy.

The sly glance that Alexander shot the other occupants of the room, Christopher’s cadre captain Ryan and Christopher’s ex-fiancée, Maya, hinted that some part of Alexander’s twisted mind was in fact considering a strike. That his intentions were obvious to the others was evident as Ryan dipped his head in deference and tried to distract Alexander. “Añaru. We only live to serve. We believe William and his man were crystallized by Light Hunters.”

“And it was a quick death, which I can guarantee was not the fate that Andrew suffered,” Christopher added, still furious at the fact that his father had drained his cadre member’s life force. Although his father was the leader of their Shadow Hunter clan and had the right to take energy from his clansmen, Alexander should have respected that his son’s cadre members were off limits.

Alexander shrugged, but shot a sly glance at Maya. For some time Christopher had believed that his ex-fiancée had known the truth about Andrew’s disappearance. The look confirmed his suspicions and reinforced another: Maya could not be trusted. That distrust had been the main reason why Christopher had called off their engagement. That and the fact that they had little respect for each other. Only duty had brought them together for a short time.

With a dismissive flip of his hand, Alexander said, “Andrew betrayed you, Christopher. He came here with tales—”

“Not tales, but you know that, don’t you? You tasted the power the Light Hunter Quinchu infused in Andrew when you fed from my man,” Christopher said as he uncapped the decanter and poured brandy into three matching snifters.

“Truly amazing power. So pure and full of healing energy. Have you discovered the source of it? Where the Quinchu is?” Alexander asked, wringing his hands before him like a hungry man staring at a feast. Most of the Light Hunters had lost the ability to gather energy, but their highest leaders—the Quinchus—had retained that ability and were luckily not contaminated by the pox that ate away at his clan’s Shadow Hunter bodies. Consuming them was the ultimate way to sustain a Shadow’s life force and was the reason the Light and Shadow Hunters had been engaged in a civil war for centuries.

Christopher strolled to his father’s desk and placed the glass on its surface. “We are still searching for the source of the energy, but believe we are close to finding it.”

Not wanting to stay within striking distance of Alexander in his unstable state, Christopher continued across the room toward Maya, glancing at his captain, Ryan, who stood at ease a few feet away. Ryan’s hands were held before him loosely, but he was ready to take action if necessary. Like Christopher, he clearly did not trust either Maya or Alexander.

His ex-fiancée lounged in a leather wing chair, her legs crossed, displaying their elegant lines. Her skin was a flawless creamy expanse, a testament to the fact that she had recently drained someone or something to abate the pox in her body. Her demeanor was seemingly relaxed, but Christopher knew her well enough to recognize the
changes in her aura that signaled her unease. Small tendrils of silver and blue shivered in the dirty red of her visible life force.

Christopher sat on the arm of the wing chair and handed her a snifter. This close he could feel the pulse of her sexual energy, awakening need. Too bad it was meaningless, he thought, and took a sip of the aged brandy.

His father continued with his plea. “You must share the Light Hunter energy. You cannot be selfish, Christopher. The clan needs such power—”

“You mean
you
need it, father.” He glanced at Alexander over the rim of his snifter as he took another pull on the liquor and its warmth traveled down his throat. He focused on that instead of the heat growing in his loins from his proximity to Maya.

“You ungrateful bastard,” his father growled and charged around his desk, all vestiges of control gone.

With practiced ease, both Christopher and Ryan jumped to action and raised their hands, discharging waves of power that stopped Alexander in his tracks. He lifted his hand and pushed against the barrier they had created with their combined life forces.

“You dare defy your Añaru?” Shoving the barrier with determination, Alexander dug his hands into the wall of energy. Tiny tendrils erupted from his fingers and slowly wove a fine mesh across the surface of the field. Like the spiders for which the Añaru were named, Alexander spun a web to capture the men’s energy and drink it in along the rapacious threads.

“Break off, Ryan,” Christopher called out, realizing that his father intended to devour them to restore himself.

Christopher experienced a ripple through his body as Ryan pulled back his life force, leaving only him and his father connected. As the Añaru, his father’s power should have been devastating, rendering Christopher weak and listless in a matter of seconds. Instead Christopher sensed only a negligible draw, like that of a mewling pup at his mother’s teat.

“You are weak.” He marched closer and jostled his father back with the strength of his energy.

“I am your Añaru. You will obey me,” Alexander replied, but his words lacked conviction and held only fear. He, too, recognized that the son had become greater.

If Christopher had been like Alexander, he would have issued the challenge for leadership of the clan now, the way Alexander had done to his father. But Christopher had no desire for a fight to the death as was demanded by the traditions of his people.

Christopher was not his father.

He pushed forward and Alexander stumbled back again until he was pinned to the edge of his desk. At that Maya jumped to her feet and approached, as if to intercede, but a cautionary glare from Christopher and Ryan’s presence at her side stopped her.

Christopher returned his attention to his father and, leaning close, delivered a warning. “You are vulnerable because you continue to feed on the humans and other contaminated Hunters. That only strengthens the pox that blights us and weakens our life forces.”

“You’re wrong,” Alexander retorted, wild-eyed from the euphoria of his feeding and the fear of the power imprisoning him against his desk.

“You forget the ways of our people, Father. We were
stronger when we worked to gather energy,” Christopher chastised.

Shaking his head in denial, his father increased the size of the web ensnaring Christopher’s field of power.

“You, see. I am in command even though you try to deny me a share of your energy,” Alexander said.

While Christopher watched, the red rash along his father’s neck slowly faded as he consumed Christopher’s purer vitality.

Christopher jerked away his power with a sharp mental command, severing the connection with his father, who slumped against the desk, obviously debilitated by the disruption.

“The problem with your way is that eventually either you run out of people to drain or they revolt against your constant demands for more.”

With a sidelong glance at Ryan and then at Maya, Christopher gestured with a flick of his hand to the door. “I will not challenge you today. But I cannot allow my people to follow this path to ruin.”

He strode to the door, Ryan at his back, protecting him. When Christopher reached the entrance, he paused to look toward Alexander and Maya, who stood hesitantly in the middle of the room. She was glancing from his father to him, as if trying to decide with whom to cast her fate.

“Maya?” Christopher questioned, having no delusions that his ex would make her choice out of love. She had been selected to be his mate solely because she was the most powerful female in their clan and at her Equinox, as was he. With that peak upon them, their mating would have heightened their power and created a more
formidable child to ensure the continuation of their Shadow Hunter clan and the leadership of the Sombrosa family.

He didn’t wait for her response and stalked out of the room with Ryan. In the hall outside his father’s office, the remaining members of their respective cadres waited.

Christopher inspected his half-dozen men and women, aware that he would be asking them to make a difficult choice. Go with him and they would likely be exiled from the clan. To a people who for centuries had relied on their collective energies to sustain them, exile was like death.

And yet Christopher had no doubt that continuing down the path on which his father was leading their people would be their eventual downfall. Those who chose to follow Christopher would embrace the old ways of the Hunters. He was certain that would not only make each of them more powerful in their own right, but lift the prospects of all within the clan.

“Do you go with me?” he asked his people immediately after his father’s cadre members had stepped back into Alexander’s office and closed the door. They had to move quickly. He feared his father would not hesitate to launch an attack against them as long as they remained within the Sombrosa complex. He would have to get his people to a safe place amongst the humans. His father would not risk exposing the existence of the Shadow Hunters with a full-scale assault in public.

The members of his cadre lined up before him without hesitation. Almost in unison they dipped their heads and raised their right hands to their chests. In a chorus of powerful and united voices, they said, “We live to serve, Añaru.”