The Hunt (19 page)

“Or maybe you didn’t really try hard enough until then.” Dria’s look becomes contemplative. “What kind of things have you willed the employees to do?”

“I’ve been careful, I swear. Once or twice I encouraged an off-duty employee to stop partying in the bar after consuming more alcohol than they could handle…” At her encouraging look I continue, “I’ve also compelled two to get me a drink when I hadn’t asked for it. I figured their inhibitions were lowered by the alcohol and I could try with less risk.”

“Don’t ever forget the risk, Rafe. You could mess up their heads if you go beyond their surface thoughts.”

“I know, and you’re right.” I shift in my chair, a bit uncomfortable to have been called on the carpet with my experimenting. “I have to learn somehow, correct?”

“Yes, but it might be best if your first attempts were supervised. Just in case.”

I bristle at the insinuation that I would callously fuck up someone’s life by playing around in their head. “I’m not Asa, nor am I Paul.”

“I never said you were, but I drove two people insane when I was ‘learning’ and I’d hate for you to bear the same guilt. Not to mention,” she leans forward and kisses me lightly on the lips, “how pissed off I’d be if you hurt one of
our
employees.”

“Uh-uh,” I say while grabbing the back of her head, intent on deepening the kiss. “You say ‘our’ but I think you mean ‘your’.”

“Everything I have,” she whispers when I come up for air, “is yours.”

“Then how about you listen to my advice and try to get some rest?”

She flounces back in her chair like a petulant child. “Oh, all right. You’re not going to let up until I do, are you?”

“Nope.” I stand and gesture to our houseguest, “Why don’t you lie down on the chaise lounge next to the pull-out and hold his hand?”

Shock crosses her face, “Really? Why?”

“Didn’t you say he’d heal faster with his pack around him and touching?” At her nod I continue, “Like it our not, until he gets more real werewolves by his side the two of us and his wolf dogs are all the bastard has.”

“Okay, I’ll give it a shot.”

“Good, because I have no intention of curling up with him even if he needs it to heal.”

Dria kicks off her boots and unclips her phone. As she goes to lay it on the table it chirps with an incoming call. I snatch the phone before she has a chance to answer it.

“Go. Get some sleep. No matter what it is I can handle it.”

She gives me one last, lingering kiss. “Yes, I know you can.”

Dria heads over and spreads out on the chaise. Jon has one arm flung to the side in his sleep. She grasps his hand loosely while settling, crosses her legs at the knee and closes her eyes.

I flick open the phone and head into the office to take the call.

“Rafe here.”

“Rafe?” Comes Asa’s shocked voice. “Don’t tell me something happened to Vivian? Or did I dial the wrong phone?”

“No and no. She’s resting. What do you need?”

“I’m standing over the body of another hunter. And it ain’t pretty.”

“Shit,” comes Rafe’s voice over
the line. “What happened?”

The wind howls, making him sound faint. “I was following orders to track Emiko and not interfere. Sanji tracked her down and they battled for quite a while.”

“Where are you?”

“Near the ski area.” The long shadows cast by the chair lift add a spooky, scary-movie feel to the kill scene. Thanks to the nearby fluorescent lights, the splashes and pools of blood look like ink against the white background.

“You told me about Bebe and how Sanji drank from Emiko’s discarded kill. Did the rogue walk away from this kill, too?”

“Yes and no.” I look around at the huge circle of tramped-down snow splattered with black. “They sliced each other up with swords and Emiko took some blood to heal. As far as I could tell, she sustained minimal surface wounds throughout the entire encounter. The rogue didn’t drain the corpse nor did she finish decapitating Sanji or cut out her heart. She ran off right before I called you.”

“Holy fucking hell,” sounds off to my right and I whirl around to face Liam and Jet heading over from behind the small ski lodge.

“You’ve got visitors, Asa?” Rafe says.

“Yeah, must have been why Emiko split before the task was done.”

“You know what to do—finish the kill and store the corpse where you put Bebe. Call me back when you’re alone. I have some more details to fill you in on.” With that he ends the call, leaving me staring at the two stoic vampires.

“Savage,” says Jet while checking out the blood pools, “wouldn’t you say?”

Liam walks over and examines the Indian vampire’s remains. “Looks like she almost hacked through the right arm at the shoulder. And her head is barely attached.” He turns his attention to me briefly before going back to the corpse, “Did you witness the fight?”

“Yes.”

Jet walks around the forty-foot clearing. The nearby light on a pole dimly illuminates the ground, making most of the details discernible with our enhanced vision. “Lots of prints. How long did the encounter last?”

“Over thirty minutes.”

Liam gives a low whistle, “Long time for a sword fight.”

Images of the whirling blades, driving fists, and flying feet fill my mind. “They didn’t just stick to swords.”

“What’s your impression of Emiko, lad?” Liam’s brogue comes through in his excitement.

“She’s highly skilled and tends to play with her opponents.” Jet raises an eyebrow at my assessment. Of course, I’m not going to tell him about how she played with me in the bowling alley and stripped me of my weapons like I was a child. “She’s silent when she fights. From what I witnessed, she could have ended Sanji’s life much sooner—like twenty-eight minutes sooner.”

Liam shifts his battle-axe to his other shoulder. “I wonder if it’s worth it.”

“You mean this hunt?” Jet asks.

“Yeah.”

“Donald didn’t think so,” I say.

“What do you mean?” Jet crosses the circle to stand over the body.

“He bowed out when he knew he was outclassed as a fighter. Offered to end his participation in the hunt if she spared his life.”

“And she honored such a request?” he asks.

“Yup. And took a nice snack at his neck to seal the deal.”

“‘Spoils to the victor’,” Liam says. “Standard for submitting to a more powerful opponent.”

Jet grunts and continues to examine Sanji’s remains. “Look at this crisscrossing of slash marks.” He pokes a finger and the shredded coat falls away, revealing blood soaked clothing. “It looks like a pattern.”

“I’m sorry to spoil your fun,” I say while removing a long, silver knife from a sheath strapped to my left thigh. “But I have a job to finish.” Both vampires take a small step back; eager to watch when I cut out their fallen comrade’s heart.

I push the ferocity of my actions to the back of my head. Following orders to correctly dispose of a dangerous corpse is not the same as being a trained soldier. Rarely were we ever required to do anything even remotely as brutal as what I’ve been exposed to in my new undead existence.

I slide the blade under her shirt and cut the material away to provide better access. The marks on her chest are numerous, reinforcing what I said earlier in my observations—Emiko was obviously toying with her.

“Is that a word?” Liam asks.

One glance at the cuts and I realize he’s right. They do make a word. “Looks like ‘N-O-T’,” I say. Reaching down, I push more fabric aside to reveal her abdomen. Hacked, shallow cuts clearly spell out the word ‘GUILTY’.

“Well, if that don’t beat all,” Jet says. “Talk about making a statement.”

“Could it be true?” the Scotsman asks.

“What criminal do you know ever admits they’re guilty?” I say.

“True,” he replies. “But I think I’m going to head back to the inn and think on this for a bit. It took a long time to deliver this message—not to mention skill. And one has to wonder why.”

I shrug and bend to my task. The silver cuts like a hot knife through butter. In a moment the first step to my job is complete and the Indian vampire’s heart lays in a paper bag—ready for burning.

“Can I borrow your axe?” I ask of Liam.

He shrugs before handing me the heavy weapon. “Knock yourself out.”

One strike is all it takes for the olive-toned skin and long black hair of the old vampire to roll away into the snow. I hand back the bloody axe, for a moment or two it looks as if Jet and Liam are contemplating drinking from the body.

“It’s not your kill,” I say.

“From what I heard, it didn’t stop Sanji with Bebe,” Jet replies.

“And did it do her any good?”

“No honor in it,” says Liam. “I’ll pass.”

The two hunters slink off into the darkness, in the direction of the inn and not the fleeing footprints of the rogue. I heft the headless body over my shoulder, grab the bag containing the heart, and snag the head by its long, trailing hair. I carry my burdens to the storage shed near Gen One, where I stowed the garbage bag with Bebe’s many severed parts. In very little time I’ve got her head and quickly freezing body lodged next to the Brazilian’s bagged remains.

It occurs to me, as I reach for my phone to call Rafe back, that Emiko wrote that message for me. She knew I was watching and would be the one to clean up her latest kill. I doubt it was intended to make the other hunters rethink their position in this game. Why focus on me? You’d think if she wanted to clear her name she might not have jumped me at the bowling alley like she did. Then again, from what I’ve seen of her abilities, she meant me no permanent harm.

When Rafe answers, I tell him of the words found carved on the body and my completion of the assigned task. The blood darkens the bag I’m holding, dripping onto the snow as I walk. I can’t wait to dispose of it and get it out of my possession.

“Don’t bring the heart inside the inn. It makes an awful stench when you burn it. Use the fire pit in the stone garden. Should be some dry wood in the kindling box.”

“Got it. Want me to track Emiko when I’m done?”

“No, go check in with the wolves in cabin number three. Drew reports, via the GPS locators, that there are two more wolves back in the cabin. I want to make sure none of them are injured. A pack can be pretty stubborn when it comes to asking for outside help.”

“Didn’t you have something you wanted to tell me before?”

“Yeah, but I’ll fill you in when you come back to the main building. The seethe meeting at one has been pushed to two.”

“Okay.”

We end the call and I head west to get back to the main building and the stone fire pit. The statues, wrapped in rope lights, twinkle in the false twilight of the garden. Numerous landscape bulbs brighten the courtyard in a simulation of daylight and help to preclude shadows from forming between the carved sexual antics on display.

Near the glass wall of the pool wing lies a gathering of benches. The smooth paver stones from the path branch out here and form a large, round clearing. An indentation in the middle indicates where the fire pit is.

A large cedar box, mounded with snow, stands behind a bench. Logically, it has got to be where the wood is kept. Brushing off the snow, I uncover a small, ash-coated shovel leaning against the back. In a few minutes, I dig out the pit, load it up with some dry wood, and set the small pile ablaze.

I sit and watch the dance of fire, enjoying the exuberant lick of flames before I have to toss the heart in. A weight bears down on me, stifling the enthusiasm I had when coming to the inn just two months ago. This was to be a new beginning away from the undead life I’d come to hate.

Is this what I want? Did I join the Army to serve our country only to get infected with an incurable disease that has effectively ended my life forever? Where is the honor in arranging a hunt for a bunch of blood-sucking serial killers?

I toss the bloody bag into the flames and the waft of the sickly sweet smell rises up to choke me. The natural tones of the fire illuminate the colors hidden previously by the dim fluorescent lights, causing the dark red stains to leap into focus. My gut clenches. More so then it did when I had to do this for Joanna’s heart, and then Bebe’s, earlier today.

Is my new “family” the family I want? Can I repair the damage I’ve done with killing Joanna? Hell, she was a crazy bitch and had to go, but am I up for the rebuild into Vivian’s good graces?

A sigh escapes me as I stare into the sputtering fire. The wetness of the heart dampens the roaring flames. I toss a few more pieces of kindling on and build it back up to finish the job.

Essentially, isn’t this what I must do with my life? Build it back up and make something of my new undead existence? It will never be the same as my old life. I miss my father and my brother, having lost my mother and other brother ages ago.

A resolves grips me as I sit and watch the fire until it dies. Vivian is a worthy leader to follow. I’ve pledged my allegiance to her and to break my vow trying to leave is a fate worse than losing honor—it is a fate filled with fear.

This existence is all I have left. I don’t want to die, so I intend to make the best of it. “Adapt or die” is Vivian’s favorite saying, and one I’m only now starting to fully understand.

Pushing the ashes around with the shovel, I spread out the remains to ensure the job is done. A check of my cell phone indicates the time is one-fifteen. With one last glance at the stone pit, I head out to the guest cabins to complete my next task—checking on the stinky werewolves. Why hasn’t anyone told them they reek of wet dog? There’s got to be soap or something to cover that stench up.

I’ll be glad when the week is over. It’s still hard to believe we haven’t even made it through the second day and we’ve lost two hunters already—three if you count Melvyn. I see why Vivian asked for the money upfront.

The paths leading to the guest cabins smell much more doggy-like than they did my last trip through here. The musky trail has hints of femininity in it, but male pheromones overlay those traces for the most part.

I haven’t met this group yet, I was on duty in the command center when they arrived and Drew showed them around. Hopefully, they’ll give me a chance to explain who am I before they jump to the conclusion I’m one of the vampire hunters. I went over the dossiers of the wolf pack so two of the male werewolves I sense inside must be Romeo, Spike, Eric or Patrick. Don’t know much else besides their first names. Jon said Weres tend to take the last name of the pack they’re a part of.

I knock on the door and wait. The heavy wood door is pulled open by a bulky young wolf looking a lot like my younger brother. Is my wishful thinking from earlier about family playing tricks with my mind?

“Asa?” The young man’s mouth hangs open in shock. “It can’t be you, right? Because my brother died in Afghanistan.”

Shock spirals through me and grips my heart in a death vise. “Eric?” My voice comes out in a croak. “How the hell did you get here?”

Eric reaches out and grabs me by the shoulder, hauling me into the cabin and slams the door shut. He takes hold of me in a big bear hug while his stink of werewolf musk wafts around me.

In one split second the moment is over and he pulls back and slams me into the door. “Dude!” The smack against the solid wood reverberates through my spine. “What the fuck, man? You’re a vampire now?”

“I could say the same to you,” I grumble while my heart sings with the fact I’m reunited with the brother I never thought I’d see again.

“So you didn’t die overseas, but got turned?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up in a nutshell.”

“Why didn’t you contact us?” he says while shaking his head. “Dad was beside himself with grief. Hell, I grieved for you right alongside him.”

I look away, unable to meet his pain-filled eyes. Wandering in, still in shock, I sit on the couch. “I couldn’t. There was no way to control the bloodlust going through me… I would have drained you both.”

Eric dismisses my fears with a snort and waves it off. “Yeah, whatever. You keep telling yourself that. It was shitty and you should have at least called.”

The heat of anger fills me, reflecting the confused emotions spilling through my body. “And said what? ‘I’m a vampire now and have killed innocent people while the bloodlust rides me?’”

My brother sobers and sits across from me. “Okay, good point. But surely sometime in almost two years you could have reached out?”

I shake my head at his obvious acceptance of my new existence. “Like you two would have believed me? Give me a break. No one believes in this paranormal crap, unless they’ve experienced it firsthand. Speaking of which—how did you wind up a werewolf?”

“Pat and I were hanging out at camp, you know, our old favorite partying spot in West Milford?” I nod and he keeps going. “We had one too many, like usual, and this mangy-looking big dog wanders into the firelight.” He stares off in the direction of the fireplace, his broad shoulders hunching forward while he retells the details. “We didn’t have any food to entice it, but tried to call it over so we could pet it.” He shakes his head. “Idiots. We were such dumbasses. Back from a tour overseas, feeling no pain. The big dog growled and lunged. Pat shouted, ‘Run!’ We stumbled through the woods, screaming like morons, and the thing took us down in minutes.”