Vengeance Borne (3 page)

Jacquelyn double-checked the clip on her 9mm before sliding it from the shoulder holster. The silver bullets stacked inside would be more than effective. Sure, a regular bullet could do the job, but she liked the added
oomph
of the silver. The Changeling’s outer body was no more immortal than hers. An unfortunate part of tonight’s hunting expedition. The body had become merely a shell, holding the Changeling’s ethereal form. The person who had once inhabited that body was dead and gone, expelled by the creature’s magic.

The dagger at Jacquelyn’s side vibrated with energy as if reminding her of its presence. Dry heat soaked through her pants and warmed her skin. Magic was never cold. A smile lit up her face. She’d need the dagger’s magic after she drove the creature from the girl’s body. It was the only way to kill a Changeling once it left its host behind. Every Waerd carried one. And Jacquelyn loved her dagger.

A stillness consumed this forested area on the outskirts of town where the Banshee’s cry had led her. Like air sealed vacuum tight, the atmosphere sat stagnant, dead. She knew the feeling well. She’d felt it too many times to recount. Elbows slightly bent, hands wrapped firmly around the grip of her Glock, Jacquelyn lined up her thumbs side-by-side, marrying them together to ensure a steady shot. She brought the gun up and aimed it at the Changeling’s forehead. The creature looked like she’d stepped right out of a frat party and onto this empty stretch of dirt and dry grass. The girl couldn’t have been older than eighteen when the Changeling stole her body. Pink satin corset, black leather micro-mini, hair perfectly coiffed, and lips sporting some of L’Oreal’s finest. Jacquelyn’s gaze wandered to the Changeling’s feet. Seriously, stiletto heels? How did she even walk out here on the uneven ground?

One shot; all she needed to decimate the body and release its inhuman squatter. A clean kill. Painless and quick. The girl wouldn’t have to suffer…
Stop
. The command resounded in Jacquelyn’s mind spurred by years of conditioning to look past the illusion to see the creature beneath. There was no girl. No person. Just a shell, a body without a soul. She had to quit thinking of this body as human. It wasn’t. Not anymore.

“C-can you h-help me?” The Changeling had its damsel in distress impression down to a tee. “I was looking for a party that was supposed to be out here somewhere, but I got lost.” A single tear spilled from her eye, running in a dark mascara smear down her cheek and she brushed it away with her hand. “Sorry,” she sniffed. “I’m a little freaked out. I’m pretty sure there are wolves or something out here! Thank God you came along.”

Wolves? They weren’t that far from town. Seriously, she needed to work on her delivery. Despite the Changeling’s painful impersonation of vapid sorority chick, Jacquelyn’s arm lost some of its tension and her elbow bent further as the gun dropped a fraction of an inch. The voice, so human, spoke to her conscience, stealing a little of her conviction.

“I’m really scared.” The girl crept a tentative step closer. “Can you help me? Please?”

Not a person. Not a person.
The words rang in Jacquelyn’s mind, but her eyes played against her senses and instinct. Changelings had always been the hardest for her. The juxtaposition of evil encased in innocence was tough for her to reconcile. To ignore the deception and realize a monster lived in the guise of a once living human being tore her heart in two.

Jacquelyn stumbled backward, tripping on a fallen branch. But still, the Changeling walked toward her, the down-turned mouth flipping over into a sweet smile. “I’m so lucky you came along. I don’t know what I would have done out here all night. And I’m super cold.” She laughed. “I’m not exactly dressed for chilly weather. Can you give me a ride back into town?”

The gun seemed to drop by itself. Jacquelyn stared into the glistening tear-filled pools of the girl’s blue eyes. Her grin widened—much too wide, showing a bit of the monster inside—as it climbed up her cheekbones. The Changeling swooped toward her, the expression on her face twisting into something grim and hungry. Inhuman.

Slowly and with purpose, Jacquelyn began to intone a set of ancient words, infused with power and ingrained in her memory since she’d first learned to speak. She didn’t have to see the dagger sheathed at her side to know that it glowed white hot, the heat permeating her pants was evidence enough. The Changeling stopped dead in its tracks, eyes wide with disbelief.

“How dare you utter those words to me!” it hissed.

The Changeling moved fast, despite the binding words that Jacquelyn spoke in an attempt to weaken it. It swiped out with its right arm, catching her in the face. A juicy pop of skin breaking preceded a warm trickle of blood down her cheek. Great, that’d look good at work tomorrow. It only took a moment for Jacquelyn to regain her bearings and she threw her body at the creature, taking it down in a tackle. An enraged shriek echoed in her ears, a sound that drove into her skull like an iron spike and rattled her brain. Jacquelyn rolled away from the Changeling’s body, her hands pressed tight over her ears.

“You’re not strong enough,” the Changeling said in a too- sweet, sing-song voice as it came to its feet and dusted itself off, “and tonight, hunter, you’re going to die.”

The Changeling lunged at her, its speed nothing more than a black and pink blur. Jacquelyn scurried away before it could get its hands on her, fumbling for the 9mm as she scrambled to her feet. A snarl tore from the Changeling’s throat and it lashed out with its left fist catching her in the jaw this time. “Jeez,” Jacquelyn said through clenched teeth. “Can you please at least
try
to watch the face?”

A shot—not from her Glock, but a familiar Berretta—popped in her ears, the sound contained in the barrier of the Changeling’s magic. Jacquelyn squeezed her eyes shut, flinching at the sound. The dull thump followed by the rustling of brush signaled the creature’s temporary immobilization and she opened her eyes.
Goddamn him
. But she couldn’t deny Finn’s appearance was welcome. He’d done what she’d failed to do, and now she had to kill the Changeling before it could find a new host. This was
her
territory.
Her
town. And she’d be damned if she let evil get the upper hand here. It was now or never.

Jacquelyn pulled the dagger from the sheath at her side and watched as the creature freed itself from the body. It snaked across the dry grass, a mass of grayish skin, black hair and sharp teeth. With a quick stabbing motion, she plunged the dagger into the creature, reveling in the heat that nearly burned her palms as it spread through the hilt, snaking down the steel blade and into the Changeling. A glass-shattering screech cleaved the night air as it writhed beneath her. Foul smoke billowed up from the grotesque shape, burning her nostrils as the magic buried itself deep, incinerating the creature in a matter of seconds. A ring of charred autumn grass was the only thing left to betray the Changeling’s existence.

Jacquelyn locked her gaze on the blackened grass, refusing to turn her head and acknowledge the man she felt standing behind her. Why in the hell did he have to be so good at his job? He’d seriously shown her up. And why did she still feel a surge of tender emotion when he was near?

Why can’t the earth just swallow me whole?

The veil of silence lifted with the Changeling’s death, and the familiar sounds of night returned to Jacquelyn as though she’d just removed plugs from her ears. Along with the sound of his heavy sigh behind her.

“You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days.” Finn always scolded her like a father, one of many reasons to have dumped him.

“How did you find me?”

“Tracking dot on your Glock. You couldn’t possibly think I’d still use your phone to locate you. Not after you got wise and started turning it off.”

The smile in his voice only sparked her ire. “Go home, Finn,” she said, and turned to face him. “I told you I didn’t need your help tonight.”

“I’d say that’s up for debate. Someone needed to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed. And wouldn’t you know, that’s sort of my job.” He kicked a booted foot through the Changeling’s ashes, scattering the proof of its existence among brittle leaves and unyielding grass. “What the hell’s up with you lately? I’m starting to think you have some sort of death wish. You’ve got to have your head in the game, Jax. If you can’t hack it, resign and we’ll find another hunter who can do the job.”

Right. Like that was even an option. Finn knew better than anyone that there was no
resigning
from this job. “I can’t manage to get the job done, but you can—right?” she asked, her voice like vinegar. “You’ve always been able to hack it, right Finn? So you didn’t come out here because you were concerned. You were just doing your job and making sure I did mine.”
Ugh
. It stung to think that doing his job outweighed his concern for her. It shouldn’t have, damn it, not anymore. But it did.

“If that’s what you think,” Finn said simply.

He lifted his gaze to hers and finally looked at her. Or rather, through her. Finn had an insufferable habit of looking right through a person, as if they weren’t worth his trouble when he was upset or hurt. Guess they both still felt the sting of their breakup. Jacquelyn could remember a time when he’d looked at her with love and tenderness. Apathy was no upgrade.

A corner of his full mouth twitched, and for a moment she saw something spark in his brilliant blue eyes. But just as quickly as it surfaced, the apathy swallowed it up and his dead expression left her feeling hollow and sick.

This must be what gum feels like when it’s stuck to the bottom of a shoe.
As if she deserved anything more. She’d been the one to end things between them, after all. He had every right to be bent out of shape. Jacquelyn holstered her unused Glock, dusting herself off as if Finn weren’t there at all. If she had to, she could play his game. She didn’t have to like it, but she could pretend.

“I would have done it,” Jacquelyn murmured. “You just didn’t give me the chance.” The smell of rotting flesh made its way to her nostrils and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. The girl’s body had already begun to decompose, an effect on the body after it’s taken over by a preternatural creature. It would be nothing more than pile of dust by morning. Changelings were the worst. They always went for the youngest bodies they could manage. And it made her stomach sour.

“Whatever,” Finn quipped out of the blue. “Whatever you say. If we’re done here, and you’re not hurt, I’m going home.”

Jacquelyn shrugged her shoulders. Finn wasn’t hers to care about anymore and she wasn’t his. The sound of his departure echoed all around her as he tromped through the woods—back to wherever he’d come from.

She knew he wanted to work things out. To try to salvage what they’d had. But she was tired of pretending. Tired of letting Finn manipulate her emotions whether intentional or not. She needed a clean break. She needed her life to belong to herself for once. But since she wasn’t interested in transferring to another territory, it looked like she was doomed to her fate. She had no choice but to spend quality time with the one person she didn’t want to see.

Awesome
.

Thanks a lot, Fate.

Chapter 3

MICAH SAT UP in bed and wiped at the sweat trickling down his temple. His chest ached like a motherfucker and he massaged his sternum before bringing up his knee to rest his arm upon. The keening cry of some ungodly creature still bounced around in his memory, along with the vision of a woman’s face, frozen in terror.

“Goddamned dreams.” He shook his head as if to banish the residual effects of the nightmare, still too real in his mind. He sucked in a lungful of air and held it for ten… twenty… thirty seconds before letting it all rush out between his lips.

If he had it his way, he’d never dream again.

Who was she? Sometimes a dream was just that, but this time he knew it wasn’t so simple. A gift, his mother called it, but he knew it for what it really was: a curse.

Rolling, Micah slung his legs over the edge of the bed to sit up. He stretched his neck from side to side and ran his hands over the short stubble of his hair. His knee knocked against the nightstand and he flipped a switch. The small bedside light spread its twenty-watt glow in the confines of the motor home. Micah pulled open the drawer of the built-in oak dresser and retrieved a yellow legal pad and a pencil. He sat for a moment, the tip of the pencil hovering above the first line, and then began to recount every detail of the dream still intact in his memory.

The woman was outfitted—not the damsel-in-distress sort. Decked out in military-style fatigues, with a shoulder harness and gun accenting her black t-shirt. Holding a dagger, its jewel encrusted hilt pressed into the flesh of one hand, her other gripped a gun. But rather than pointed toward a target, her fist had been raised defensively in front of her. A small gash at the top of her cheekbone oozed blood that trickled in a fine line down her dark skin. A deep purple bruise marred her opposite jaw line. She’d looked pretty pissed off.

What didn’t make sense about this dream wasn’t necessarily the woman or her predicament. He’d seen enough visions of terror to seem commonplace. No, her antagonist wasn’t common at all. A girl. A teenager, maybe a little older, it was hard to tell,
she
had the damsel-in-distress thing going for her. Fair-haired with the still cherubic cheeks of youth and a pouty, yet angelic mouth, only the evil and menace in her smile alluded to the fact that she wasn’t what she appeared to be. His fear for the tough girl facing down such an innocent foe confused him even more.

Micah tried to recall what the dream woman had said. Something foreign. Ancient in sound and cadence, perhaps a language that wasn’t spoken anymore. The girl laughed in response to the dream woman’s words and pointed a finger at her face.

“You’re not strong enough,” she’d said in a lilting, sing-song way. “And tonight, hunter, you’re going to die.”