Hunter's Rise (4 page)

“Why the sudden inclination to go to Toronto?”

“Just a feeling,” she said, sighing. She opened her eyes, staring off into nothingness. Memories rose, whispering into her mind. A broken body, one that had taken all of her skill to heal. A shattered mind, and although she’d been able to heal the physical damage, the memories, the soul, everything that he had been…
that
, she hadn’t been able to save. The vicious pain echoing through him as he struggled with the weeks and months of fever and pain that came after his attacks.

He had been a nameless, broken child when she’d found him.

Now he was called Toronto— he’d claimed that name all
those years ago, because they’d needed to call him something. Some part of him had hoped they’d discover his hidden past.

It had never happened.

And now, Toronto had gone back to the city where they’d found him— the city he’d named himself for. Back to the place where he had been born… in a twisted sort of way. He’d been like a babe, born into the body of a youth, not quite a man, but close. He’d already had the instincts of a fighter— she suspected the early years of his life hadn’t been easy, but his mind had been a blank slate. His past was lost to him, yet he seemed unable to let it go and he went back, time and again, as though hoping he would find some loose thread that would connect everything together.

Best to leave that past alone
…

His past was a sad, unhappy road, she suspected, one she couldn’t pierce. All she knew was that he’d been wrapped in shadows, shadows so thick, they had all but choked him. His past had placed him on the path that had damn near killed him. Whatever those shadows were, he should just let them go. They no longer mattered to who he was now. If he could just accept that and let it go, he’d be happier for it.

Not that it was likely to happen. She could even understand it.

Her past hadn’t been an empty pit, but she certainly hadn’t been able to let it go, even when she’d wished she could. Even when she’d tried. The past had a way of bogging a person down, and sometimes, the harder one tried to fight it, the harder it was to let it go.

Something from that past is about to reach out and bite him—

A shiver raced along her spine. Sometimes, the knowledge she had well and truly sucked.

I

Fifteen years. Not bad. For a while, Toronto had come back almost every month. Then it had been every year, and finally, he’d been able to stay away for longer stretches.

This had been the longest he’d ever gone.

But once he hit the city, Toronto found himself following the same path he always took. The alley where he’d been found wasn’t an alley anymore— he couldn’t even get to it, unless he wanted to walk through the middle of a busy store. Which he did. It was maybe thirty minutes before it would close. People stared at him strangely, but that was nothing new. Head bowed, senses alert, he waited… waited for… what?

Toronto didn’t even know anymore.

“Why do you keep doing this?” he muttered.

But he had no answer to that.

This place held no answers for him. It never had. It didn’t add to the riddle of his life, but it sure as hell didn’t bring any solutions, either.

Evading the throngs of people, he made his way to the area that was close to where he’d been found. Even with a building standing over it, he knew it was the right place. He’d know it in his sleep.

Not because he remembered. Nessa had led him here, and he’d come back time and again— he’d watched as they’d constructed the building, even, and he’d considered tearing it apart, brick by brick.

There was a wall in the spot, barring him from getting as close as he’d like. That was where he stopped. Closing his eyes, he pulled those foggy memories from the depths of his subconscious. His first memories. Before that… nothing. Just blackness.

He remembered nothing of the night he’d been found. Nessa had taken him back. Walked him through the night, again and again, for those first few years. He could see it through her memories, but it was like having somebody tell him about something they’d experienced. It didn’t feel like
his
life.

She’d been old, even then.

She hadn’t moved like it, though. And she hadn’t been alone. Two other Hunters had been with her. Another witch, and a vampire. The boy Toronto had been lay in a pile of broken bones and bloody flesh— the were virus had already
been working on him. It should have killed him. But as the fever burned through him, the virus healed him, keeping him alive until Nessa found him.

It couldn’t heal everything, though.

The shattered mess that was his skull, and his scrambled brain… everything he’d been, all of that was gone.

She’d sent the vampire after the wolves while the witch— a man— had carried the boy.

Away from the alley where Toronto had both died and been born.

“Sir?”

Hearing the nerves under the voice, Toronto lifted his head and saw the security guard staring at him with a mix of bravado, nerves and fear. Instead of waiting for the standard,
Can I help you please leave now
, he just turned on his heel and walked out of the store, following the path of faded memories to the next spot.

Near the edge of the city, he paused, dragging in the stink of something nasty. It was faint, and old. Vampire. It had a familiar edge to it, though. Familiar enough that it made Toronto think the vampire had come through the city more than once. More than twice… revisiting his old hunting ground the way Toronto came back to haunt these streets?

He didn’t know, and just then, he didn’t care. He’d send word up the line. Somebody would have to start patrolling through here more regularly. Toronto felt the buzz and burn that indicated more paranormal creatures; as the human population boomed, so did their kind. They kind of went hand in hand. Made it damn hard to keep hidden sometimes.

Pushing problems of work, of Hunters, of monsters to the back of his mind, he continued his walk outside the city. The old place was still in one piece, still in decent condition and he knew that if he walked inside, he’d find there wasn’t a speck of dust, not a thing out of place.

It had been more than a hundred years since he’d finally emerged from the fevered Change… in this very house. It was empty now. But he still heard the echo of her voice, the echo of his own.

His first clear memories had been of her— Nessa. Agnes Milcher. An old woman who looked frail and was anything but. She had been there through the nightmares, had been there as the hunger ripped through him, had cooled him as the fevers raged.

She hadn’t been alone. There had been others with her.

He’s going to go feral, Agnes—he’s too young. Watch yourself.
A woman’s voice.

No. He shall be fine. He’s strong. I feel it. He’ll need food, something big and bloody should do the trick. Mary, could you…?

A pause. Followed by a woman’s low, disbelieving voice,
You want me to hunt… for him?

Well he needs to eat, doesn’t he?

A man’s voice.
I can bring him something.

Then there were long moments of silence, and he’d tried to fight past the fog that wrapped around him. The hunger, so thick, so strong, tearing into him with dagger-sharp teeth.

He had to eat— had to—

Then his first glimpse of the woman who would be like mother and grandmother. His first friend— faded blue eyes, peering down at him. He hadn’t seen the kindness in those eyes, then. Hadn’t been able to recognize the power either. He’d just seen… meat. Felt the hunger tearing into him, his mind going blank.

The next thing he knew, he was hovering in midair, tearing at his throat and struggling to breathe, while the old woman stood a few feet away. The younger woman watched him with disgust and pity in her eyes.
I told you he wasn’t going to pull through. I’ll put him down, Nessa.

But when the woman had reached for her belt, the other one had smacked at her hand.
You’ll do no such thing, Mary. He’s fine. Look at those eyes—he’s quite lucid. No feral wolf could just hang there like that, waiting. Listening.

Wolf—

What had she meant… and then he heard the growl. Like it came from deep, deep inside.

You’ll have to learn to control that, boy. But you’ll do well enough.

Control.

Shit.

Yeah, he’d learned to control it well enough. She hadn’t let him out of her sight until she was certain he could.

It had taken months, and he’d spent most of them here.

From hooded eyes, Toronto stared at the little house, more of a cottage than anything else, searching for some answer. But, as always, there was nothing.

I

Eyes locked on those long-gone memories, he tried to pierce the fog of his past. But there was nothing there.

Back then, the were virus had still been viewed as a curse, and he’d been bitten only days before the full moon. There was a cyclical thing to the bite, and more than a little bit of magic. The science-minded people suspected the reason weaker weres
had
to shift around the full moon was because they all believed they had to. The virus caused a hormonal spike and those hormones built in their system and needed release— almost like a climax— and that release was needed on a regular cycle. So much shit was built up about werewolves and full moons, there could easily be deep, racial memories that were tied to the shift. Because they thought the Change came with the moon, it did.

Stronger weres could resist it longer. The stronger the were, the longer he or she could go without shifting. Likewise, the easier they could shift. There were more theories tied to complicated shit like
viral loads
—speculating that Master weres were created when they received a bite from either another Master, or from numerous wolves.

Toronto’s existence seemed to support that. Those theories speculated that if a victim survived the bite, which wasn’t likely, the most plausible outcome was that the victim would go feral— a loss of control, usually accompanied by a
loss of sanity. Always followed by death, because ferals were executed. If the victim
didn’t
go feral, he had a very good chance at being a high-level shifter, probably a Master.

Toronto had been bit by five werewolves— bitten, chewed on and played with, from what Nessa had told him. For those first few months, death and madness had chased him with a passion.

The fevers had hit hard and fast. Followed by rages ending in blackouts. Sometimes he woke in bed. Other times, he woke up restrained. And all the while, Nessa had been there.

You’ll get through this, boy. We’ll pull you through…

Each time the hunger, the madness tried to take over, she’d been there. She’d kept him from dying. She’d pieced his broken body back together. But she couldn’t do shit for his shattered mind.

There was nothing she could do about his lost memories. He’d tried to find the missing pieces of his life, but he’d never even been able to find a name.

He went by Toronto, because that was where he’d been found. For the longest time, he’d hoped he’d find some clue to his past and didn’t want to get used to a real name.

After all this time, he knew it wasn’t going to happen— this was just rote. And he couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop hoping. Couldn’t stop half wishing something would trigger those lost memories, or that somebody held the pieces of his lost past. Couldn’t stop wishing that something,
finally
, would make him feel whole.

Best to leave that past alone
, Nessa had told him, more than once.
Stop looking for answers that do not exist… why torture yourself so?

“Just a glutton for punishment, old woman,” he murmured into the night. Hours bled away as he stood there, staring out over the water at the skyline. By morning, he’d have to leave. But he’d give himself the night. One night. Alone—

Or perhaps not. He wasn’t terribly surprised when he felt the presence that whispered
witch
…

He recognized her. But she wasn’t alone. There was another scent on the air, one he could have done without. He’d heard Nessa had finally found her own piece of the
past, in the form of a lover who had died and somehow found his way back to her in a new life. Toronto personally didn’t have any real problems with Dominic. But the other vampire was a reminder that he’d left responsibilities behind.

Toronto was supposed to be taking more care with those responsibilities.