Blood Hunt

The demon jerked back its paw, licking at the black blood dripping from the wound. A menacing growl rose from the beast, promising retribution.



Logan didn’t wait to see what it had in mind. He lifted his blade and struck again, swiping at the closest paw, praying he’d hit a tendon.



The demon was too fast. It snatched back its paw and batted at Logan before he could strike. The dagger flew from his numbed hand, ringing against the concrete floor several feet away.



Logan’s legs still hadn’t started to work yet, so he called on some of his dwindling power to draw the weapon back to him.



It vibrated on the floor and slid only a few inches before it stopped.



Hunger roared inside Logan. The power in the blood he’d taken from Hope was gone. He was out of energy. And time.



Chapter 11



Hope scrambled to find her cell phone. Logan had said the police couldn’t help, but at this point, she didn’t think they could hurt, either.



Her cell phone was gone. It must have fallen out during her run or while she was dragging people around.



Frustrated panic gripped her as she looked around, making a futile search of the area.



The man she’d rescued still hadn’t spoken or moved. He watched her with wide eyes the color of golf course grass. He had short, sandy blond hair and wore ripped-out jeans and a concert T-shirt.



He might have a cell phone.



Hope rushed to his side and started searching his pockets. Her voice was an octave higher than normal. “I’m going to call for help and get you out of here. Just hang on, okay?”



Her hands shook as she slid them over his body, searching for the hard edges of a cell phone. She found a small one lodged in his front pocket and dug in his jeans for it. “Sorry to be so forward. I don’t normally fondle strange men.”



He said nothing in return. Not that she’d expected him to.



She grabbed the small phone and pulled it out, only to discover that it wasn’t a phone at all. It was a lighter inside a rumpled, mostly empty pack of cigarettes.



Shit.



“I can’t leave him down there alone,” she told the stranger. “I can’t stand by and let him die. I have to do something.”



But what? She was no superhero. She couldn’t handle something like that monster, alone and unarmed.



She needed help and she needed it now. Sadly, there wasn’t a pay phone for blocks and she didn’t dare leave this paralyzed man alone, either.



Maybe her phone was on the stairs. If she could get it and call for help, then it might save both men’s lives.



The creature had dragged Logan away. It was safe to go down there. She was sure it was.



Hope swallowed down an acidic bubble of fear and walked to the door. She heard nothing on the far side. Of course, her heart was hammering so hard it probably masked plenty of noise.



With a prayer for courage, she cracked the door open and peeked inside. Nothing sprang at her. No demons lurked within sight.



The stairs marched down into blackness, mocking her ability to do the same. The demon had destroyed the lightbulbs, making it impossible for her to see past the sixth step.



She’d rushed out without her satchel. Which meant she’d also left behind her flashlight. What she wouldn’t have given to have that light now.



Or a torch.



Right. She had fire. She could make a torch. Couldn’t she?



It was worth a shot.



Hope sprinted over the dusty floor to the toppled stack of pallets. She braced her foot against it and pulled on one of the boards. The nail screamed as it was wrenched out of place, but she was able to get it free.



She grabbed a wad of discarded newspaper she found on the floor and crumpled it into a tight ball. She stabbed the ball onto the bent nail and went back to the stranger’s side where she’d left the lighter.



It took a moment for her to fumble it free of the cigarette package, and even longer for her to get her fingers to work the thing. The tiny flare of light made her rejoice.



The flame wobbled as she set the newspaper on fire. She angled it so the dry wood would catch fire, holding her breath the whole time.



A few seconds later, the pallet board caught flame and victory surged inside Hope.



She was going after her phone, and if she didn’t find that, she was going after Logan.



Iain readied himself for the infant to attack. He flung the back door open, sword poised to strike.



Nothing happened. He saw no movement, heard no warning hiss coming from inside the vehicle.



The woman lay still. The blanket covering her was soaked with blood. Her face was lax, her eyes staring unfocused and fixed in death. She’d bled out. He’d failed to get her help in time to save her life.



There had been a time not so long ago that Iain’s failure would have bothered him. But no longer. The life of one human woman apparently wasn’t enough to stir his dead soul.



Not that he cared. He’d long since stopped caring. His entire focus now was on playing the part of a healthy Theronai long enough to give his brothers hope—to help them cling to life long enough to find their mates.



He could remember a time when his desire to help had burned fierce and bright inside his chest. It no longer did, and his actions were more from habit than anything else. Still, those habits ran deep, giving him a reason to pull in his next breath.



Atop the woman’s chest, the blanket shifted as something beneath it stirred.



The child. It let out a faint cry of distress.



Iain used the tip of his sword to move the blanket, pulling it down, uncovering the child.



It didn’t lunge for him. In fact, it flailed around, its tiny arms and legs jerking in the air. It had four limbs. No tentacles. It didn’t even have teeth, much less fangs.



It looked like a normal human baby.



A flicker of relief fluttered deep inside Iain, so faint it barely registered. He wasn’t going to have to kill it.



Him. The baby was a boy, not an it.



Iain sheathed his sword and gathered the squalling infant. He was tiny. Iain’s hands swallowed him up.



The child screamed louder, his cries vibrating with demand to fix what was wrong.



He was probably cold.



The blanket was too wet and bloody, so Iain tucked the naked baby inside his shirt, warming him against his chest. He zipped up his jacket to keep the wind out.



Something warm and wet slid down Iain’s stomach.



The child had peed on him. Of course.



Iain covered the dead woman with the blanket and got behind the wheel. He needed to get the baby back to Dabyr where someone could care for it. Unfortunately, that trip was going to take several hours and he doubted the child would hold its bodily functions for that long.



Time to find some diapers.



He pulled back onto the road, holding the baby in place with one hand while he drove. After a few minutes, the child’s cries quieted, then stopped completely. He could feel the warm brush of air against his skin as the baby breathed, telling him he was fine.



Not that Iain was worried. Death was probably the best thing that could happen to the boy. His mother was gone. His father was likely dead. The Synestryn would have had no reason to keep a man alive. They would have drained his blood and eaten him.



This child’s life would no doubt be filled with pain and suffering. It would be a kindness to simply let him die. If it weren’t for Iain’s vow to protect humans, he probably would have.



The vow stayed his hand, removing the choice from his conscience. Whatever hardships the boy would face were his to bear. He’d have to suck it up and deal like the rest of the world.



Iain found an all-night convenience store and pulled into the parking lot. He parked away from the entrance, as far away from lights as he could. Anyone who glanced in his ride would see the bloody blanket covering the woman’s body. He really didn’t want any trouble with the police.



As soon as he shifted, the child let out a disgruntled breath at being disturbed. He patted the lump under his coat and hurried into the store.



He found diapers and bought the smallest ones they had. He also grabbed some wet wipes, a can of formula, a plastic bottle sporting yellow ducks, and some bottled water. The boy was going to have to eat sometime, though hopefully not before he got back home.



The clerk behind the counter was a man in his early twenties with as many piercings as pimples. He grinned at Iain’s purchases. “Daddy duty, huh?”



Iain ignored the kid and pulled out his wallet.



The baby squirmed and let out a shrill scream.



The kid’s grin faded. “You got a baby under there?”



Iain laid more than enough money on the counter, grabbed his sack, and left. As he got back in his car, he could see the clerk on the phone, talking fast.



Shit. He was probably calling the police, telling them all about the big, scary man with the stolen baby under his coat.



A venomous anger streaked through Iain’s blood. The baby screamed and he realized he’d tightened his hold and had to ease up.



If he hit the highway now, every cop in the area would find him, the baby, and the dead woman. He needed to stick to the back roads and hide for a while—maybe switch vehicles.



He couldn’t drive, dial his phone, and hold the baby all at the same time, so he sped out of the parking lot and headed for the closest Gerai house. They were scattered all over this part of the country, and there were two less than an hour away. He picked the one closest to Dabyr and raced for it as fast as he dared.



The demon crouched over Logan’s legs, feeding from the blood that seeped from his wounds. His body was fighting the paralysis, but not fast enough. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore, though perhaps the demon’s saliva contained yet another toxin he couldn’t combat.



Logan scoured his mind for options, but the churning hunger inside him was distracting.



Being a meal for a Synestryn was even more distracting.



He closed his eyes, gathering up what little bit of power remained. He wasn’t yet sure what to do with it—there wasn’t enough for a powerful assault—but he’d think of something.



Light seeped through his closed eyelids. The beast at his legs hissed in annoyance.



Logan looked up to see what it was. Standing a few feet down the hall was Hope, holding a burning board aloft. Her hair seemed to glow in response to the firelight, and her eyes burned a bright, determined gold. Fear tightened her mouth and widened her eyes. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing.



He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his long, long life.



“Get out of here!” he ordered, using a bit of his remaining power to spike the command with a compulsion for her to obey.



He must have been weaker than he thought, because she didn’t even pause long enough to blink before striding forward, flame first.



“How do I kill it?” she asked.



“You don’t. You run. Now.” A little more power left him as he struggled to force her obedience.



“And leave you here for it to snack on. I don’t think so.” She stabbed the torch forward and the demon flinched back. “It doesn’t like light. I know that much.”



She stepped forward. The demon batted at the torch, missing. Its eyes streamed with tears.



“Give me the torch,” he said. “I’ll kill it while you run.”



“You can’t even stand.”