Blood Hunt (2 page)

Joseph Rayd:
Theronai warrior, leader of the Sentinels

Viviana Rowan:
the Bronze Lady, Theronai, bonded to Neal Etan

Cole Shepherd:
blooded human

Alexander Siah:
Sanguinar

Paul Sloane:
Theronai warrior, bonded to Andra Madison

Carmen Taite:
blooded human, Gerai, cousin to Vance and Slade Taite

Slade Taite:
blooded human, Gerai, cousin to Carmen, brother to Vance

Vance Taite:
blooded human, Gerai, cousin to Carmen, brother to Slade

Zach Talon:
Theronai warrior, bonded to Lexi Johns

Iain Terra:
Theronai warrior

Morgan Valens:
Theronai warrior

Zillah:
Synestryn lord

Chapter 1

 

 

Logan hadn’t truly understood Sibyl’s prophecy of his death until this moment. But now that he was staring into its jaws, he realized what she had meant.

A Synestryn demon crouched behind a run-down three-story building, its eyes glowing a bright, feral green. It was huge, making the Dumpster beside it look like a milk crate. Heavy muscles bulged in its limbs, quivering in anticipation of the kill. Its breath billowed from all four of its nostrils, creating pale plumes of steam in the cold night air. Bright moonlight gleamed across its skin, reflected off the viscous, poisonous fluid that leaked from its pores.

Logan had never seen anything like it before, but the human, Steve, groaning in pain on the pockmarked asphalt near the demon’s feet, was testament to the power of its poison.

The man’s wife, Pam, stood pressed against the cold brick, staring in horror at her husband. Her pregnant belly protruded from her slim body, promising the hope of a new generation.

Logan could not let anything happen to that child.

Steve was still moving, but if Logan didn’t do something soon, he wasn’t going to survive. Not that there was much Logan could do. After days without feeding he was weak, his powers now dwindled to the point he barely had the ability to walk upright.

Hunger churned inside him, demanding that he seek out the blood he needed, but there was no time to feed. No time to gather his strength. No time to call for help.

If this couple and their child—a child he’d worked so hard to see created—were killed, many of his people would starve. Logan could not allow that to happen.

The nameless creature lunged for Logan, bounding up from the pavement in a powerful leap so fast it made the thing look like a streak of moonlight.

Logan pitched his body to the left, hoping to avoid the attack. His shoulder slammed into a brick wall. Pain lanced across his back and down his spine. He slid to the dirty ground before he could catch himself.

The demon careened into a loading dock door, busting through it like tissue paper. The metal screamed as it gave way. Corrugated strips flew into the darkness of the run-down building, leaving behind a giant gaping hole.

A blow like that had to have stunned the demon, or even knocked it out.

Logan needed to carry Steve away from this place, and he knew the man’s wife would follow. He’d made it only a few yards when he saw the feral green glow of two large eyes within the gaping hole in the doorway.

A sickening sense of defeat churned in his empty belly. Not only was the Synestryn still on its feet, but Logan now knew he was completely outclassed. If barreling through that metal door didn’t slow the thing down, there was nothing Logan, as weak as he was, could do to stop it.

The demon lumbered through the opening, angling itself for another attack.

Steve pushed himself to his knees. He wavered there, next to a frozen mud puddle, between a discarded mattress and a rotting wooden pallet. His skin was roughened by goose bumps. With every passing second, poison went deeper into his system.

Time to grab the couple and run. Leave the Synestryn for someone else.
It wasn’t his place to destroy the demon. That was best left to those who were stronger than he.

Which currently included ninety percent of the planet’s occupants, no doubt.

Logan shoved himself to his feet and sprinted across the slick pavement toward Steve. The tread of his boots slipped over the remnants of dirty snow left from the last storm, but he managed to stay upright and close the distance.

Behind him, the demon snorted out a heavy breath.

Logan spun around to face the thing, putting his body squarely between it and the pregnant woman.

“Please,” whispered the woman in a voice trembling with fear. “Save him.”

“Go,” ordered Logan. “Run. I’ll protect him.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Think of your child.”

“I am. He needs his father.”

There was no more time to argue. The demon charged.

The woman let out a frightened whimper. The heartbeat of the baby boy inside her sped up, as if sensing the danger it could not see.

That child deserved to live. If this demon got hold of the mother, both she and the baby would die because of the blood flowing through their veins.

The injustice made outrage unfurl in Logan’s body, spreading dark wings of anger. That demon was not going to take the child—not while Logan still drew breath.

Claws extended from Logan’s fingertips and his fangs lengthened. His natural weapons were nothing compared to the wicked blades the Theronai usually carried, but he refused to go down without a fight.

In the back of his mind, a hysterical part of him giggled at the notion of defeating such a creature. At his full strength he’d have a chance, but he was far from that—so far he couldn’t even remember what it felt like not to be weak and hungry and cold.

But he had anger on his side, and it fueled him now, giving strength to his wasted limbs.

With a burst of speed, Logan charged the oncoming monster. He leaped to the top of a trash can and propelled himself over the thing’s shoulder. His claws dug deep into the demon’s slippery flesh, making it howl. Slick, mucuslike poison collected under his fingernails.

Logan straddled the demon’s back, trying to choke it with his legs. One wide paw batted at him, its talons raking across his forearm.

Pain sliced up Logan’s arm. Poison entered his system.

His first instinct was to shove the last of his dwindling reserves of power into creating an antidote, but there was no time for that. He had to kill the Synestryn before the poison incapacitated him, or being poisoned would be the least of his problems. And Steve’s.

The creature headed for the cavelike shelter of the building, carrying Logan along for the ride. As they shoved through the opening, jagged metal sliced his skin, tearing a cry of pain from his lungs.

Logan fished beneath his coat for the dagger he kept hidden there. He stabbed it into the top of the creature’s head, hoping to skewer its brain. Its skull was too thick and the blade slid to the side.

The cut to its scalp was deep, making the beast roar in pain. It reached back, grabbed Logan by the head, and whipped him off.

Logan was slammed against the concrete floor. Or maybe it was a wall. His vision was full of bright lights, so it was hard to tell. All he knew was pain and a foggy weakness that kept him pinned to the ground.

A deep vibration beneath him told him that the demon wasn’t finished yet. It was still on its feet and it was getting closer.

 

Steve was growing weaker by the second. He pushed himself to his feet, and the effort left him panting.

Pam was by his side in an instant, her precious face staring up at him in worry. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

“You know that won’t help,” he told her. As one of the Gerai, he knew enough about the Synestryn to realize that there was nothing a human doctor could do for him. “I need Logan.”

His wife’s face paled as she realized what he meant to do. “You can’t. You can’t go in there.”

“I don’t have a choice. I’ll die without his help. And he’ll die without mine.”

“No,” whispered Pam. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “You can’t go in there. Please.”

A wave of weakness shook Steve, telling him he was running out of time. “Go. Someplace public. Well lit. I need to know you and the baby are safe.”

“I won’t leave you.”

“There’s no time to argue. You’re going. But I won’t be long. Promise.” The vow settled over him, comforting him. He kissed her mouth, praying it wouldn’t be the last time. “Go, love. For our baby. Go.”

She nodded. Sniffed.

Steve gently pushed Pam away. She stared at him, her expression a mix of fear and love. “Don’t you dare die.”

Steve hid his weakness the best that he could as he bent down and picked up a discarded section of two-by-four. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but he’d find a way to make it work.

He’d promised to be quick, and he’d never once broken a promise to his sweet Pam.

 

The color of suffering was a dark, sickly yellow, and Hope Serrien knew she’d see it on a night like tonight.

A cold front had swept down over the city, slaying any hope that spring was coming soon. Power lines glistened with a layer of ice, and icicles dripped from street signs. The sidewalk under her feet was slick, but even that couldn’t keep her indoors tonight. A night like this brought death to those who had no place to escape the cold.

And cold wasn’t the only enemy on the streets. There were things out here. Dark, evil things. People were going missing, and Hope feared they hadn’t simply moved on to warmer climes.

Sister Olive was a middle-aged woman who ran the homeless shelter where Hope volunteered. She’d insisted that Hope stay indoors tonight, but the nun had never truly felt the frigid desperation of having no place to go. She’d always had a warm, safe place where she knew she belonged.

Not everyone was so lucky.

Hope shifted the canvas bag on her shoulder and walked faster. She always carried sandwiches and blankets in case she ran into those in need—those who refused to come to the shelter. With any luck, they’d all have better sense than to be stubborn on a night like this.

She scanned the street, paying close attention to the dark crevices between buildings and inside recessed doorways. That glowing, yellow aura of suffering was not hard to miss.

Or maybe Hope had just had a lot of practice at spotting it.

If Sister Olive knew how Hope found people in need—if she knew Hope could see auras—the nun would probably have her committed. Good thing that wasn’t something that came up in normal conversation. Hope wasn’t sure she could lie to a nun.

A flicker of unease made Hope pull her coat closed more tightly around her neck. She’d seen things at night—things she knew couldn’t be real. Dark, monstrous things that slinked between shadows, hiding from sight. Their auras were black. Silent. She couldn’t read them, which made her question whether the monsters even truly existed outside her imagination.

She probably should have brought one of the men along with her to ward off any problems. But how would she explain to her escort how she knew where to go? It was better to do this alone and keep her secrets. Fitting in among normal people was hard enough when she
didn’t
draw attention to her ability.

Hope forced herself to head toward the one place she hadn’t yet searched for those missing souls. She hated getting near the run-down Tyler building—it brought up too much pain and confusion, too many bad memories. She’d promised herself that tonight she’d put her ridiculous fears aside and look for her friends there.

The three-story brick structure rose up into the night sky. The lighting here hadn’t been maintained, leaving deep pools of darkness to hover about the building like an aura of decay.

A heavy thud and a screech of wrenching metal rose up from behind the structure.

There was definitely someone back there. Or some
thing
.

Images of those dark creatures flickered in her mind. Her muscles locked up in fear, and for a moment, she stood frozen to the pavement.

The real danger out here tonight was the cold, not monsters, and the longer people were left to suffer in it, the more dangerous it became.

Hope forced her legs to move. Her first steps were slow and shuffling, as if her own body was working against her. Then slowly, she picked up speed, shoving all thoughts of monsters from her mind.

As she crept down the alley that led to the back of the building, she heard more noises she couldn’t quite identify. There was a grunt of pain and the rattle of wood tumbling about. Once, she almost thought she heard a woman’s voice, but she couldn’t be sure. The only woman she knew who was too stubborn to come in out of the cold was her friend Rory.

Hope cleared the corner, and the first thing she saw was the gaping hole where the overhead door had been ripped open and partially off its track. The metal looked like it had been punched in with a giant fist, leaving jagged shards behind.

From inside the opening, Hope saw a brief flash of color—the sickly yellow of suffering.

Rory.

Desperate fear washed over her, making her lurch forward through the ragged opening. It was too dark inside to see, so she fished inside her satchel for the flashlight she always carried.

A feral growl of rage rose up from her left. It wasn’t a human sound. Not even close.

Primal fear surged through her, and she had to fight the need to curl into the smallest space possible so she could hide.

Her search for the flashlight became frantic, her gloves hindering her as she fished around in her bag.

She located the hard, heavy cylinder, only to have it slip from her grasp.