Hunter's Rise (41 page)

Toronto waited in silence until the door shut behind Kelsey and he listened as the footsteps died away.

Although he was completely aware of Rafe’s heavy stare, Toronto stood where he was, at the window. Watching the moon. It wasn’t full, wasn’t even close. He didn’t have that heavy, burning urge to shift. Right now, the moon was… peaceful. It was peaceful to look at, and he sure as hell needed some peace.

“If you want me to head out, I can be gone within an hour,” he said quietly, crossing his arms.

“Shit.” Rafe was closer now.

Turning his head, he saw the vampire standing just over his shoulder, dark eyes flat, mouth unsmiling. With a short nod, he said, “I’m out of here, then.”

“That wasn’t a request.” Rafe shoved a hand through his hair. “You did good. It wasn’t exactly how I wanted to see it end— I wanted Pulaski here so I could torture him for a good, long while. But if he was a vampire… that was an unexpected complication. He was better off dead sooner, rather than later. We’ll have to work on finding the answers for the families of his victims, but we can probably still accomplish that— I’ll have Kelsey look into it. She’s here anyway.”

A weighted silence fell. He’d done good— what the hell, maybe after so many years of fucking up, he ought to feel pleased with that. But he just… wasn’t.

Nothing felt settled for him.

He
wasn’t settled.

“I don’t know if I can stay here any longer, Rafe.” Lifting a hand, he laid it on the window, staring up at the moon. “I just don’t belong here. Never did.”

Rafe blew out a heavy breath. “I can understand that…
there comes a time when bastards like us just can’t take serving, right?”

“It’s not that.” Toronto shook his head. “I’m not leader material— never will be. But I don’t fit here.”

“Don’t fit?”

Turning his head, Toronto shrugged. “I’m a mean-assed square peg who’s forced himself into a round hole, and I’ve made the lot of you miserable while you all put up with me. You deserved better. They deserved better. It’s time I move on, I think.”

“Where to?”

“Beats the hell out of me.” Shifting his gaze back to the window, he focused once more on the moon. “I need to find something to do with myself that isn’t a fucking waste, though. Find some way to not
be
a waste.”

“You’re not a waste, Tor.” Rafe shoved him lightly. “The merc… Sylvia. Is she any part of this?”

He closed his eyes. Sylvia. Was she any part of this? “No.” Because she didn’t want to be any part of anything that had to do with him.

Turning around, he faced Rafe. “Sorry I caused you problems while I was here. And I’ll hang around while we clean up the mess with the schools and shit. When you don’t need me anymore, though, I think I’ll head on out.”

Rafe watched him with narrowed eyes.

Somehow, Toronto suspected the vampire saw more than he’d like.

P

Not at Rafe’s, not at his place. He’d sold the house to the vampire, figured somebody else could use it eventually. The few things he needed to take— weapons and clothes— didn’t take much time to pack up.

Sad, really.

More than a hundred years and all he really laid claim to were his weapons.

“Where do you plan on going?”

At the sound of Nessa’s voice, he winced. Damn it. He’d wanted out of here before she made it back around. When she hadn’t been in the house when he returned, he’d thought maybe he could avoid those all-seeing eyes. Apparently not.

Straightening up, he turned to look at her, giving her a smile that felt strained at best. Faked and frayed, worn around the edges. “Hey, old woman,” he said.

“Harrumph. Old woman.” She squinted at him and abruptly, a sad smile curled her lips. “Oh, Tor. You went and fell, didn’t you?”

A dull flush climbed up his neck.

Turning back to his weapons chest, he continued making sure everything was secure. “I found a guy who claims he knew me— recognized the scar on my arm. Says I got it when we were climbing into a warehouse window.”

“Hmmm.”

Slanting a look over his shoulder at her, he said, “And what does,
hmmm
, mean?”

“Not much. What else does he have to say?”

“Dunno. He can’t say much— I cut his head off. He was a vamp— a crazy one. Had to die. No time to chat with him before I killed him.” Unable to pretend he was still inspecting the chest, he shut the lid and turned to face her. “How much do you know about what happened to me, Nessa? Honest— for once, be honest.”

“I never was dishonest, Tor.” She sighed and came into his room, lowering herself into a chair, settled on the edge. “You were covered in bites. You were near death. But there was a vamp’s stench on you, too. I always suspected you’d been tossed out as a lesson of some sort. With that kind of history, how pleasant could your past be?”

Watching her closely, he tried to decide if she was being upfront with him or not. If anybody had more pieces of his past— other than Sylvia— it was Nessa. It didn’t matter, though. He’d finally accepted it. It didn’t matter.

Taking a deep breath, he blew it out and then grabbed the straps of the trunk, hefted it up. “That’s probably exactly what happened— the vamp, I guess we knew each other. When he was attacked, it sounds like I went after the vamp who made him. He threw me to the wolves for interfering.”

“And how are you with all of this?” Nessa studied him closely. “You always wanted answers— always searched for the pieces of who you were.”

“Answers don’t change who I was. Or who I am.” He shrugged as he started for the door. “That’s the one thing I finally figured out.”

A hand touched his shoulder. Pausing, he looked into Nessa’s blue eyes. They looked a lot like his own, he realized. She really did look younger than he did. This woman
was both mother and sister to him. Yet she looked a good five years his junior. Except for those eyes… those wise, ancient eyes.

“Who you
were
never really did matter,” she said quietly. “I always knew you could be something amazing. If you would just let it happen.”

“It hasn’t happened yet.” He tried to smile, but couldn’t. “I’ll stop disappointing you, Nessa. I swear.”

“You never disappointed
me
, love. You always disappointed yourself.” She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Now… I’ve an idea of what you can do with yourself, if you’re of a mind to listen.”

He was tempted to just walk away.

But he couldn’t. That was something he’d done too much of. “And what’s that, old woman?”

D

She had a sad look on her face, and it pissed him off.

“What in the hell did he do to upset you?”

“Oh, hush.” She reached up, patted his chest absently, all without taking her eyes off the back of the van.

“Hush?” He cupped her chin and drew her face toward his, until her gaze met his own. “You look about ready to cry, damn it. Look, I know you like that bastard, but—”

“I all but raised him, you know,” she said softly. Blowing out a breath, she reached up and gathered some of her hair into her hands, absently started to braid it, something she did when she was distracted… or hurting. “We found him when he was a teenager— we came on him as five werewolves were having themselves a lovely little snack… and taking their time with it.”

Dominic, still riding the wave of what he’d thought was very righteous anger, went quiet, eyeing her with suspicion. “Did you say
five
werewolves?”

“Yes. It was a bloody, and I mean that literally, mess. Do you know Mary Kendall? I had her with me, and a witch,
Vax. He’s not with us anymore— not a Hunter, at any rate, or a witch.” She frowned, her eyes far-off and confused. “Sometimes, it all gets in a muddle, still. What was I saying… oh. Mary, Vax, they were ready to just kill him. It would have been a kindness, in a way. The virus was already working on him, healing him up as they went, keeping him alive so they could make him hurt even more.”

She reached up, touched the back of her skull. “They damaged his brain— scrambled it. Like an egg. Fortunately, they’d already infected him so that the virus healed the damage, but his memories, his life… all of it was gone.”

“Gone…?”

“He doesn’t know who he was. He found a few pieces, it seems. But he’s lived all his life with a hole in him. And a memory.” She glanced at him. “Do you know what one of his earliest memories is? Mary— saying she’d put him down. Like a dog. A mangy, rabid dog.”

Nessa sighed. “I love that girl, dearly. But all of his life, he’s lived with that in him. Feeling like not much more than a mangy, rabid dog.”

“Shit.” He scowled, and shot a look toward the van. It was out of sight now. “Look, I didn’t… fuck. Screw that. He had a rough childhood, plenty do. He still acts like an asshole.”

“Yes.” Nessa started to laugh. “He does. And I love him. He’s like a son to me, and I want to wring his neck for the way he lets everything trip him up. I think…” She paused and took a deep breath.

When she looked back at him, some of the sadness had lightened. It was still there. Just not so heavy. “I think he fell for the mercenary he was working with… and she walked away. Toronto just had his heart ripped out. Sometimes, it takes that to really wake up. He can start to heal now.”

“You…” Dominic scowled, trying to follow her line of thinking. He couldn’t. She had a few hundred years on him in the thinking department and he just couldn’t keep up. “You’re smiling because he had his heart ripped out. You’re good with this.”

“Oh, no.” A light glinted in her eyes. “But he’s figured out
he’s been holding himself back. And he’s done with it. I’m good with that.”

TWO MONTHS LATER

It hadn’t been that long ago when Toronto had been facing another angry, pissed off non-mortal. That one had gone crazy.

This one was pretty damn close.

And he was expected to keep the kid on the sane side of the line.

As the young Alpha came at him, Toronto waited until the very last moment before he moved. When he did, he caught him by the scruff of the neck and hurled him to the floor.

Lifting his head, he stared at the small crowd gathered around. A few of them were shifting on their feet. Others were growling quietly, watching with rage flickering in their eyes. And fear. Baring his teeth in a snarl, he let some of the power inside him break free. Seconds later, the majority of them were cowering on the ground, whining low in their throats, their eyes swirling as they fought not to shift.

They were learning. A month ago when something like this had happened, they had all gone furry on him.

It was the Alpha causing the problems.

Crouching down by him, Toronto waited until the fogged eyes started to clear. He’d smacked his head hard enough that it took a minute. Blood was seeping out from under him— the kid had split his hard head open. Probably not enough to knock any sense into him, though. It also didn’t do much to knock any of the anger out of him.

“I’m guuna keel yuu,” he snarled, the words mangled by his altering form, his body heating, flowing under Toronto’s hands as he shifted.

In response, Toronto whipped out a blade and plunged it through his shoulder. It was almost pure silver and enough to stop the shifter in his tracks. The youth lying on the ground wasn’t a were. He was a natural-born shifter, and he reacted to silver differently than a were would. Silver would have
pushed a were on the verge of shifting right
in
to the Change. For a natural shifter, it slowed it.

“You can’t kill me,” Toronto said quietly. Looking around what the pack called the war room, he studied their audience. “Leave. Nobody leaves the compound without my consent.” Narrowing his eyes, he added, “If they do, I’ll be the one tracking you… and you’ll be dealing with me.”