The Hunted (61 page)

After we had zigzagged in and out of the car park five times without success, I started to imagine that Lucas was Austin Powers, our car his yellow golf buggy, reversing backwards and forwards in a thousand point turn, and never getting anywhere. I would have laughed if I wasn’t so pissed off—that was my favourite part in the whole movie.

Lucas reversed again at least twenty five times before my patience ran out and I screamed at him to stop the car and get out before I killed him. For the past ten minutes, we had been the hot topic of conversation for every outdoor patron sitting in the restaurants that lined the esplanade. There were quite a few spectators by now, not to mention the ridiculously long line of one way traffic stuck behind us.

The gathering crowds and restaurant patrons cheered loudly as I threw open my car door, marched around to the driver’s side, and pulled him out by the scruff of his neck despite his spirited protests. I banished him to the backseat with a furious point of my finger and loped back into the driver seat.

I spun the steering wheel in my hand, brought the car parallel and then reversed the car backwards into the parking spot the very first time, without any trouble. The line of cars that had been waiting not so patiently for the last ten minutes began to glide past. Most honked their horns in irritation and flashed us middle fingers as they passed.

Lucas cowered in the backseat, his arms folded across his chest in defiance and a heavy scowl implanted on his face. I switched off the car and spun around in the seat. ‘I swear to god, Lucas, you can’t drive for shit!’ I yelled.

He kicked the back of my chair in protest. ‘The carpark’s too small.’

‘I suppose you think the car is too big then too?’

‘Well that’s a given, isn’t it,’ he said snidely. And he was supposed to be my
older
brother.

I rolled my eyes and pulled the keys out of the ignition. There was no way I was letting him drive home after that stunt. Drunks had better driving skills than he did. ‘Come on, let’s go and get some dinner.’

‘No way,’ he responded forcefully. ‘There’s an angry mob out there right now and a whole bunch of spectators that are just hanging out to laugh at me some more.’

‘Can you blame them?’

He grunted. ‘I drive just fine.’

‘Yeah,’ I said slowly and sarcastically, ‘if it’s in a straight
line that doesn’t have posted speed limits, roundabouts, traffic lights, parking spaces or any other vehicles.’

‘Do you feel better now?’ he said moodily, kicking at the back of my seat again.

‘I’ll feel better when they audit the department of transport for handing out licences like they’re food stamps.’

He harrumphed.

I opened the car door, stepped out into the street and bowed down to another roar of applause from across the road. There weren’t as many people as before, now that the spectacle had passed, but the ones that had lingered saw fit to show their appreciation. After the applause died down and interest in us waned, they all dispersed and refocused their attention back on their meals.

I looked back at Lucas who was now lying across the backseat, with his head in his hands. I couldn’t help but laugh
and
feel sorry for him all at the same time.
Poor fella
. I supposed it wasn’t really his fault. There were bad genes running in his family—just look at Susan’s cooking.

I opened the back door and tugged at his ankle. ‘Come on, there’s a bowl of pasta at the Italian buffet that’s calling out my name, and it would be rude to ignore it.’

‘I’m not hungry anymore.’

‘Sure you are. Now pull your head out of your ass and get out of the car.’ I tugged a little harder, effectively pulling him halfway out the car door.

He mumbled something unintelligible and then climbed out. Before he had a chance to change his mind, I grabbed his hand and yanked him across the street, darting through a line of traffic and bounding up the footpath in front of one of the restaurants whose patrons we’d recently provided amusement for.

‘Nice parking!’ someone yelled out to Lucas over the roar of the restaurant noises.

‘Yeah,’ another gruff voice sounded, followed by a roar of laughter, ‘where’s your seeing-eye dog?’

‘Yeah, just say that to my face!’ Lucas yelled out, practically puffing up his chest in anger.

The patrons fell quiet, sensing an imminent confrontation. A bald-headed man that was almost seven feet tall, covered in tattoos, wearing bike leathers, and built like a brick shit-house stood up at a table close by. He placed his thick, corded arms onto his hips and kicked the chair that he was sitting on out behind him.

Lucas took one look at him and swallowed uneasily. His entire face went white. ‘H-hey man,’ Lucas said, stuttering slightly, and holding his hands up in defence. ‘We’re cool.’

The bald man eyed him for a short moment, studying his weedy frame and obviously deciding that Lucas wasn’t worth the expended effort. He sat back down at the table with his dinner companions.

‘Yeah, you better sit down,’ Lucas half-heartedly called out across the room.

I shot Lucas a look of utter disbelief as the bald guy rose back to his feet again and Lucas grabbed my hand and yanked me quickly through the crowd of tourists. He pulled me all the way down the strip and into the food court, peering back around the corner just to make sure the bald guy hadn’t followed us. I was pretty sure I had laughed the whole way there.

He grinned. ‘That was close.’

I slapped his shoulder very gently. ‘You’re nuts. That guy could have crushed you like a bug.’

He rubbed at the spot where I had hit him, but didn’t seem too concerned. ‘What? That guy was an ass. Besides, I’ve got you with me if I get into too much trouble and if I get really desperate, I could always show him what it really means to need a seeing-eye dog.’

I laughed. ‘You’re not allowed to use magic in public.’

‘For him, I’d make an exception.’

I stopped laughing when I noticed the sign plastered over the glass shop window behind Lucas.

‘What?’ he said, flicking his hair around. ‘Do I have dandruff?’

‘Yes, but no. Turn around, Lucas.’

He spun on the spot and almost slammed his head into the glass panel behind him.

I shook my head at him and refocused on the poster. At least he had a firsthand view of the sign with his nose practically on top of it. On the top of the page and roughly covering three-quarters of the viewable area was a large colour photograph of a girl with short cropped auburn hair, lovely pale skin, vibrant green eyes and pink pouty lips.

It was a close-up shot that was obviously taken by an amateur, but the image was obviously snapped during a very happy moment in this girl’s life. Her smile belied any danger on the horizon for her, yet the presence of the poster alone proved that someone as happy and as beautiful as her was never safe from the things that went bump in the night. Underneath the photograph there was a short captioning.

MISSING HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?

Elizabeth Mary Stuart, aged seventeen, was last seen leaving her home in Bentley Park on Sunday morning, September 2nd at around 11.30 am. Her intended destination is as yet unknown and we appeal to the public for any information regarding her whereabouts on the day of her abduction or any other information that may pertain to her disappearance.

She was driving a pale-blue Daihatsu charade with license plate number PXQ 294, which the police are also yet to locate. She was last seen wearing a short pale green sundress and gold sandals. If you have any information that may lead to finding Elizabeth, please call the police on the below number.

Lucas and I stared at the poster for a long time. It was no coincidence this girl had gone missing. ‘It’s definitely here,’ Lucas murmured. ‘The alpha is in Cairns.’

I nodded in agreement. ‘William was right. You know what this means don’t you?’

He shook his head. I pointed to the photo of Elizabeth to
reiterate my point. ‘It means she is either dead or has been recently impregnated with werewolf spawn.’

‘Ah, shit.’

‘Exactly.’

‘What should we do?’

I shrugged. ‘What can we do? The only skills that you and I have are only good during battle. Neither of us can track and hunt a vânâtor without help.’

He touched a finger to my nose. ‘What about your honker?’

I shook my head. ‘I can only scent blood, not werewolves. I’m virtually useless. We’re going to have to just stay out of trouble and just leave it to the experts.’

Lucas stared at me, dumbfounded.

I nodded and held my hands up in front of me. ‘I know, I know. Elena Manory just chose the path of common sense over danger, intrigue, and mystery. I get it. I just said something completely out of character, no need to rub it in.’

Lucas’s lips moved but nothing came out.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Come on, let’s get some food into me before I decide to save the whales and rescue orphans as well.’

Lucas snorted. He knew me too well.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

TAKEN

I
stared, mesmerised at the boiling saucepan of water I’d placed on the stove top nearly ten minutes ago. It was frothing and bubbling away manically, waiting for me to stir the rice that I had thrown in only moments before—except I didn’t. There were things moving across the surface of the water. I could see a veritable family of tiny bodies wiggling across the water’s milky white surface.

I grabbed a spoon from the top draw and scooped across the top of the water to collect some of the frothy scum that had begun to settle around the edges. I brought the spoon up close to my face to investigate. There were definitely some suspect insects that should not have been in our dinner.

Ugh, gross.

I threw the spoon into the kitchen sink and picked up the packet of rice that was still sitting on the bench top, studying it.

Weevils, just lovely. Now what am I going to cook?

I tossed the rest of the packet into the rubbish bin in disgust and switched off the stove. I grabbed the saucepan of contaminated rice and promptly began washing it down the sink. There was no way we could pick our way around those bugs and there was no way that I was going to. We’d just have to come up with something else for dinner.

Okay,
I’d
just have to come up with something else.

‘What are you doing?’ Lucas groaned as he rounded the corner. He’d been moaning about how hungry he was for the last half hour. God forbid that he would make an effort to cook the dinner for himself.