Hunter, page 3
part #1 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
He cursed some more when the two lunged for him at once, until all three of them were crashing on the ground and sending furniture and objects flying everywhere.
Fangs tried to bury themselves in his flesh, and he rolled around to avoid it. Sharp nails swiped, and his claws came up to stop them. There was a tearing sound and a hiss of pain, and Hunter used that to propel himself forward and yank his hands back. More blood burst out as he threw the sickly skin to the floor, then punched his way to what was left of the male vampire.
It wasn’t the cleanest of shots, but it worked. His claw lodged in, allowing him to grab—allowing him to yank, hard and viciously, until the vampire’s insides exploded all over the room. The hissing near his ear turned angry, which was just fine as it allowed him enough warning to roll back before he was the one with fangs stuck in his body.
The female vampire followed him, a blur of fast movements.
They rolled, and he got acquainted with the woman’s style: more compressed movements and grace than brutal power, slickly avoiding his punches and narrowly missing his attempts to yank her in. Instead, she climbed on one side of the wall, crawling as if her soles were glued to it. Those eyes had turned fully red, glaring in his direction as she bared her mouth wider.
“We don’t need to fight. Just tell me what clan you’re from and why you’re looking for—”
A jump, and Hunter ducked—only to realize the jump wasn’t meant for him in the first place. With a curse, he streaked forward as the creature scrambled for the window, the sounds of crashing accompanied by glass shattering everywhere. There was a shriek as the vampire crawled down, her coat tattered to pieces…her skin hissing with smoke as sunlight directly hit her now.
Ah. So she was that kind of daywalker.
When she disappeared down the corner, he knew there was no going after her—not unless he wanted to shift in broad daylight. He backed away from the window and looked around, red filling his vision and the smell of blood growing unbearable.
Goddamn it. Goddamn it all to hell.
Hunter dialed a number, irritation going hard when no one answered. “Kit?” he barked on the next call’s second ring.
“Yes?”
“Ovie’s not answering me right now, but I need his help. Can you direct him to this address?” He dictated it fast, then remembered she already knew the target's address.
“Got it.”
“Good. Tell him it needs cleanup. It’s an emergency.”
“Sure.”
Kit didn’t ask what needed cleanup or what kind of emergency it was. Three minutes later, he got a confirmation text that Ovie was coming, and Hunter took that as his go-signal to get ready: shedding off his clothes, taking a quick-ass shower, then ransacking the bedroom closet until he found some male clothes that fit him.
Then he was out through the front door, looking good as new and ready to track down the original target.
If there was still any part of her to track down.
It took him only five minutes to find out that she was alive: at least, she had been when she'd made her escape through the fire exit, where her footsteps made strong scuff marks, indicating a sense of careless rush. It was a wonder she didn’t slip given the rustiness of the ladder, which groaned at his weight. He landed in an alley, quickly looking around to make sure he wouldn’t be cornered again.
He walked, trying to figure out in his mind where she would go.
Orderly, and a good citizen based on the file. There was only one other place he could think of, and he headed in that direction immediately.
A few minutes later, the feeling that something was wrong again crept in his mind and damned if he ignored it a second time around. He kept his cool, adjusting his weapons inside his new coat, which fit loosely and was too stiff.
He slinked inside another alley, blending in the shadows and waiting it out. A minute passed, going on two…
A figure stepped in, not as big as he'd anticipated. In fact, it was a familiar one, a curse almost slipped from his mouth.
Instead, he pushed his back against the wall and glided out of the shadows, casually sauntering forward. The boy from earlier—Max—stopped in his tracks, eyes widening.
Glinting.
Not human.
The boy made a move to turn around and run out of the alley, but Hunter was faster, blocking the way. In two swift punches, he caught Max before the boy's small, unconscious body crumpled to the ground.
“I told you not to return to an alley,” he muttered, torn between exasperation and heavy suspicion.
Hefting the form over his shoulder, Hunter wondered how he hadn’t noticed any signs earlier, when he was usually so good at detecting these things. Then he wondered how he was going to get out of here without people noticing the carried figure and looking at him like he was the enemy.
Those musings were halted when another figure stepped in the alley, pace fast as she looked over her shoulder. Her hair was wrapped in a brown silk scarf, but nothing could hide that red hue. He froze.
She froze, too, when she spotted him, recognition in her eyes and a squeak coming out of her throat. Those eyes flared when she took in the body he had over his shoulder, the panic as obvious as daylight. He knew this could go two ways: her turning around to run for her life, or her screaming bloody murder until she drew the whole crowd here.
He needed none of that.
Hunter dropped the boy, a second movement before his hand was aiming twice for her neck—the same move he’d used on the boy. Celine’s eyes rolled over her head just as her body crumpled down, which he easily caught, too. The scarf flew off her head, and her brown coat opened and parted.
This time, it was his blood that froze as he took in the sight inside: not what she was wearing, but rather what was in the center, where her stomach was right in his face—the stomach concealed by her coat all this time: rounded, very rounded.
The target was pregnant.
Chapter 4
At first, she thought she had gone blind, making Celine panic before she managed to calm herself down with deep, steady inhales of air. Then she thought deeper, recalling the events in her mind, wondering what had led to this moment…
It all came back in a rush, flooding her with memories. She quietly gasped, tried to move. That alone confirmed two things: that other than being in a blindfold, her hands were also tied by ropes.
And she was in a moving vehicle of some sort.
The fact that she wasn’t gagged meant something, though for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why. Her brain was fuzzy, and now another type of panic was settling in: that no matter how loudly she screamed, no one was probably going to hear her.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
The voice was deep, calm…not like the throaty, sickly sweet ones in her apartment. An image simmered of them, all sophistication and friendliness as they cajoled her to let them enter her place…as they let sharp teeth, inhuman and absolutely terrifying, come out when she’d refused to do so.
“That’s what those other two said,” she found herself muttering, then clamped her mouth shut.
“Those two bastards aren’t with me.”
Her body jerked. So he’d been at her apartment and had encountered those two. Had he…?
She refused to ask, refused to entertain this one like she did them. It had been spontaneity that had saved her and had her asking them to step in, then taking them to her bedroom when they’d promised they wouldn’t hurt her, too. That whole time, she’d been painfully aware things could go very, very wrong for her.
Silence should’ve been her weapon this time—but like an idiot ready to jump into the fire, she found herself countering his statement.
“If you aren’t with them, why were you at my apartment?”
“To get you,” was the matter-of-fact reply. “Capturing them was just a bonus.”
Her mind furiously latched on to the answer, turning it over and over. It didn’t make sense. But those sharp teeth also didn’t, and it was now starting to give her a headache.
“What made you decide to put them in your bedroom, anyway?”
Another question. A bait?
She shrugged, pretending casualness. “The fire exit was the only fast exit I could make. I had to get them out of the hallway. Who are you?”
“An ally. How far along are you?”
At that, her spine went rigid, and she glared in his general direction. The bump they hit on the road waylaid it, causing her to bounce slightly. “None of your business, and allies don’t tie allies up. Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere safe.”
The scoff was at the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back when she felt the vehicle turn…then, stop. Celine braced herself when fingers touched her cloth, and dismay trickled inside her when her tied feet couldn’t kick. Then the darkness became lighter, and it took her a couple of blinks to realize the blindfold had been taken off.
It took her a couple more seconds to adjust.
Two things jumped to her attention at the same time: that she was in a container van, larger than she initially thought, and a familiar man was standing in front of her. Same height, same broad build, but different clothes now that also looked familiar. Sunglasses gone, allowing her a view of piercing honey.
Dumbfounded at how light those eyes were—and really, at how structurally handsome that face was—she found herself staring for the first few seconds before a third attention-snatcher kicked in: namely, the smaller form moving beside her. Tied up, with a blindfold but also a gag over the mouth.
A little boy, maybe around ten or eleven.
Dear God.
She gasped. Then she focused her accusing glare back to the man.
“What the hell is this? A free-for-all in the kidnapping session?”
Something flickered in his gaze, and she read the worry as it dropped to her stomach. He shook his head.
“I’m sorry about this, but I promise you’ll be safe in no time.”
She treated him to silence and a wary look, watching as he got on the phone and got out of the van. When the door closed, she waited it out for a few more seconds, hands already starting to work on the rope binding her.
She turned to the boy, her heart aching.
“I’m getting us out of here,” she whispered.
To her bewilderment, the boy shook his head. Maybe he was nervous, didn’t understand what was going on any better than she did. She let it be and kept on working on the binds, fingers moving at a rapid pace and finally finding leverage when the first knot loosened. This was one of the tricks Jack had taught her, and she remembered laughing and teasing him about how this could be a very neat magic trick. God, she would hug him so tightly if she saw him again and thank him a million times for this helpful advice.
No, no, not if. When she saw him again.
The second knot loosened…then, the third. Adrenaline rushed, so much that she had to pace herself as the last few knots loosened up, and the rope fell off her wrists. Then her feet, where she worked faster. Not about to lose her momentum, she reached forward to yank the boy’s blindfold and gag off, not surprised to find him staring at her.
But she was surprised to find him scurrying away when she tried to reach for his binds.
“No, no. I’m staying here.”
Oh, this poor boy. Celine shook her head, leveling him with a look. But she didn’t have time to argue, either.
“No, you’re not. Come on. I’ll work on those later.”
In a move that was still fueled by adrenaline, she dragged the boy back towards her, earning a flabbergasted squeak. Then she worked on his leg knots and hauled him to his feet, nearly dragging him towards the van doors.
Unlocked, with the front empty. They were in a freaking warehouse, but so far, luck was on their side. Still, caution was with her, and nerves began to fill her when the boy kept on planting his feet to resist her. She shot him an exasperated look, then tried hushing him when he began to babble something about danger and failed mission.
The niggling feeling on her shoulder was back, pinging harder than ever and making her waddle like a panicked duck towards two options: the door at the side, or the stack of boxes where she could hide.
“Stop. Stop.”
The boy’s voice was followed by a hard yanking on her back, stopping her in her tracks—then, dragging her in the other direction. This time, it was Celine planting her feet on the ground, whisper-arguing with the boy to stop being so stubborn. But he insisted, the ropes dangling from his freed wrists and his mouth whisper-arguing back that they weren’t safe here.
They both froze mid-sentence as shadows moved on top of the stacked boxes before leaping down and surrounding them. They were tall, sleek figures wearing coats and boots, which they were now starting to remove. Fear slithered down her spine when her eyes landed on one of them: skin filled with red burn marks and pale flesh peeling off.
Eyes narrowed at her as the woman spoke in the same silky voice from back in Celine’s apartment.
“If you come quietly with us, we won’t let you die.”
If one voice hissing at her had that sharp teeth, it was nothing compared to having three others with sharp teeth surrounding them. They didn’t look real, from the way they appeared to glide a step closer to the way their bodies grew still the next second. Beside her, she felt the boy’s body vibrating, realized his hair was standing on end. Not only that…he was also growling, a low, deep sound in his throat that sent her hair standing on end.
She spared a glance at him, shock punching her in the gut when she saw his mouth open…saw his sharp teeth, not quite as polished as the adults but very much inhuman.
Claws also started growing on his fingers, black and glinting. Hair started growing on his skin, too. One claw dug into her clothes, but not her skin. She must’ve made a sound—a whimper, a gasp—because he was whipping his head in her direction, black eyes full of warning.
“Don’t go with them. They’re lying.”
His voice had changed, too, rougher now. When he bared his teeth at the adults, they hissed, making her shudder.
Their eyes also started turning red.
“Charming,” the female creature said, eyes never leaving Celine. “Come with us, and we’ll spare him.”
“Liar,” the boy hissed.
“Or don’t come with us, and we’ll tear him to pieces. A shifter’s death is just one delight to add in this fucked up day.”
Shifter.
Shifter.
Her mind reeled, refusing to accept it. But there was no other explanation, no other word for how the boy was crouching like an animal.
It only meant one thing for who these adults were. Reddening eyes. Pale skin.
Fangs.
Impossible.
And yet…
“What do vampires want with me? Where are you taking me?”
The risky question paid off, identifying her guess as right when they shrugged. A burned hand pointed at her body.
Her blood froze.
“Come or not. Your choice.”
They stepped closer, insinuating it wasn’t really a choice. Instinct had her sidling closer to the kid, who nearly jumped at the contact but managed to steady himself. The claw returned to her shirt, and oddly enough, there was a sense of comfort in it.
Meanwhile, the vampires just gave her bad vibes, chipping at her shoulder and screaming at her to get away from here. Testing this out, she took a step back, hand wrapping around the boy’s shirt to pull him back with her.
All the vampires hissed, bodies braced. They started gliding closer, the muted warehouse sun making their green veins visible.
“I thought vampires were supposed to be afraid of the sun,” she blurted out in desperation. It worked, as they stopped moving.
“We’re not afraid of anything.”
“I thought vampires just showed up at night, too. Not like this.”
“We show up anytime we want.”
“I thought—”
“Enough!”
The female glared—then, in a blur of movement, had the boy by the neck and was choking the life out of him. His claws dug in her skin, sinking, and she bled. But she didn’t let go, and her other hand came up to wrap around Celine’s neck, too.
Too fast, Celine’s mind screamed, and too strong. She clawed with her short nails, felt no give as the vampire started lifting them both from the ground. Just as her vision was starting to blur, her feet met the ground again, a hard land that jarred her back to her senses.
Beside her, the boy was on his feet, too, released from the same grasp and frantically gulping in air. A body flew back, then another, and it took her some heavy gulps of air in her lungs before she could focus on what was happening: the female vampire on the ground, knocked back and scrambling to stand up. A male vampire knocked out completely, body shuddering violently and dark blood spurting from a torn mouth. A bigger figure was in front of Celine and the boy, claws digging on the pavement and body braced for movement: a beast of a creature, too big to be called a wolf and covered all over in thick, dark fur. It was the beast from Beauty and the Beast, but much more brutal in form.
The head turned in their direction, just as it was transforming from man to animal. Honey eyes locked in on Celine.
“Get in the van. Lock it. I’ll get you out of here.”
She whimpered as the head turned back to the vampires, fully animal now. That animal leaped in the air, a powerful forward move that had him landing on the remaining vampires and wrestling with their equally powerful forms on the ground.
She didn’t know how long she kept watch and didn’t move, but she did know it was bordering on stupidity when the boy tugged on her insistently. She glanced, dazed to find him back in his human form, pale and tired and verging on desperate. There was a pipe in his hand, though heaven only knew where it came from.
“He’s right,” the boy said. “The van’s our only chance. If they come through the driver’s seat, our backs will be protected.”
What a dreadful idea of an only chance.
But Celine knew he was right, so she started walking away with him. A vampire landing in front of them blocked their path, too close to avoid. With a yell, the boy’s pipe pushed forward, lodging hard in the vampire’s stomach but not enough to stop the incoming bite.
