Blood Hunt

Maybe she never would.



“Where is your sister?” he asked. Joseph hadn’t seen a single glimpse of Lyka since their arrival.



“She’s in our suite, pouting.”



Joseph couldn’t imagine her doing anything quite so petulant, though he could easily see her lower lip all full and begging for a kiss.



The wayward thought shocked him and he shoved the image away, putting his head firmly in the game.



“Have you decided?” asked Andreas, his body tense with anticipation.



“I have. I agree to a truce with your people.”



Andreas blew out a long, relieved breath. “Thank you, Joseph. You won’t regret your decision.”



“Not so fast. You need to understand that our truce is in your hands. We will not attack you first. If provoked, we will defend ourselves.”



Andreas thrust out his hand. “Good,” he said as Joseph and he shook. “That is all I ask.”



“If any of your people break this truce, there will not be another.”



“I understand. They won’t. We want peace as much as you do.”



“I hope you’re right,” said Joseph. “Your people are prone to violence. It’s in their blood.”



“So is obedience. They will do as I say, or they will challenge me for the right to lead our people in a different direction.”



Joseph had heard about their customs, how their leader was chosen through combat. Andreas would have had to beat dozens of challengers for the right to lead his people. Which meant he was one tough son of a bitch.



Andreas rubbed his hands together in eagerness. “Excellent. Now all we need to do is settle the formalities of our bargain.”



“Formalities?”



The Slayer frowned like he didn’t understand why Joseph was confused. “Of course. I’m leaving Lyka here to guarantee my trust; now I need the same from you. Who have you chosen to come with me?”



Outrage flooded Joseph’s blood. His voice rose, drawing the attention of people nearby. “You want me to give you a hostage?”



Carmen turned and looked at them. From behind him, Joseph heard the rasp of steel on steel as one of his men freed his sword. Apparently, his voice had carried farther than he’d intended.



He held up his hand, signaling his men to stop.



“That is the way these things are done,” said Andreas, as if his request was perfectly reasonable.



“That’s not the way we do things.”



“I already told you that we’re following the old ways. You keep my sister and I keep yours. It’s a civilized tradition, and tradition is the only thing keeping peace among my people now. I would have hoped you’d see that.”



“You can rule however you choose. But once your traditions start involving my people, they’ve gone too far. Even if I had a sister, which I don’t, I wouldn’t send her with you.”



Andreas’s jaw tightened. “I can see my work here is not yet done. Perhaps you’d allow us to stay for a while and give you time to get used to the idea.”



“You can stay here for a century and I’m still not going to give you one of my people. It’s just not going to happen.”



“You don’t know me. I get that. But I can’t go back to my people empty-handed and expect them to go along with this. I can show no sign of weakness.”



“Are you revoking your offer of peace?”



“No. I’m asking you for a show of good faith. If you can’t do that . . .”



Carmen shoved her chair back and came to their table. She glared at Joseph, and then said to Andreas, “I’m his daughter. Take me.”



An awful, ear-grating, tearing sound woke Hope. It sounded like a giant had ripped a Mack truck in two with its bare hands. Searing light burned her eyes, even through her closed lids. As soon as the flash faded, she forced her eyes open so she could look out of the open van doors.



The first thing she saw was Logan sprinting toward her. His gaunt face twisted in fear and his lips parted around a shouted order she couldn’t understand. He was several yards away. His leather coat was flapping behind him like a cape. He held a big, bloody knife in one hand, and for a split second, she was afraid of what he’d done.



And then her focus shifted to the thing behind him—the thing he was running from.



It was beautiful. It gleamed with an internal light that surrounded it almost like an aura, but not quite. Shaped like a heavily muscled man, it was easily eight feet tall, made from what looked like shards of ice or crystal. It held a transparent sword in each fist, and the blades were so thin they seemed to disappear when the angle was right.



If it had been still, she would have sworn it was a work of art, perfectly sculpted into the shape of an ideal male. But it wasn’t still. It moved like water, gliding over the pavement on bare feet. She could see the grime of the street through it, and was suddenly embarrassed that it was seeing her world so dirty.



There was no question that this thing was from another world. It was far too beautiful to be earthly—so beautiful it made even Logan seem plain in comparison.



Hope blinked and felt tears spill onto her cheeks and cool in the frigid air.



“Go!” shouted Logan, pulling her from her trance.



She didn’t understand why he’d want to leave such a thing of beauty behind. It belonged in a museum or in an art gallery, on display for all to see.



And then it struck. One of its paper thin swords sliced through the air and the trailing length of Logan’s leather coat was sheared off.



It was trying to kill him.



Shock trilled through her, spiking her adrenaline. Her heart kicked against her ribs, and her body broke into clumsy movement. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she had to move.



“Drive!” screamed Logan, his voice fading. He was only a few yards away, but she couldn’t leave without him.



Hope scrambled into the driver’s seat and started the engine. She felt the van bounce as Logan’s weight landed in back. She put it in gear and hit the accelerator.



The tires squealed as they slipped on the icy street. The back doors of the van were still open, and in the rearview mirror she could see the crystalline man lift both of its blades to strike.



Smoke poured out of the back as the tires spun; then, finally, the van jumped forward as it gained some traction.



It was then that Hope realized that there was nowhere to go. Ahead of her stood a brick building. The alley running along it, both to her right and left, was barred with junk. The only way out was through that junk, or backward. Where the giant, armed, ice man lurked.



“Hold on,” she yelled as the front bumper rammed into an old water heater.



She heard Logan grunt in pain. The water heater spun sideways. The right tire went over something it shouldn’t have and exploded.



Hope lost her grip on the wheel for a second, but the loss of control was long enough that they came precariously close to ramming into the brick building.



Which gave her an idea. Whatever that thing was made of—glass, crystal, ice—it was bound not to like being smooshed into a hard wall.



Hope spun the wheel hard, making the van screech about in a half circle. Something hit the inside wall of the van and she wondered if it was Logan’s head. She winced at the thought, but held the wheel firm.



Looming in front of her, as tall as the van, was the crystalline man. His swords were raised to strike.



Time slowed. Hope gunned the engine. The thing sliced downward. Its swords ripped through the van’s hood like it was tin foil. The engine died, but the van’s momentum carried it into the creature, pinning it against a wall.



One of its swords snapped off, giving her hope that she might have actually defeated it. Then it held the broken stub of its sword aloft and the sounds of wind chimes and cracking ice filled the air. New crystals grew, forming a fresh blade in a matter of seconds.



A strong hand grabbed her arm. “We must go,” said Logan.



He pulled her from the seat toward the back of the van. The ground beneath her shifted and she lost her balance. Logan held her up as the crystalline man kicked the van away from the wall to free itself.



Logan’s grip was tight, keeping her on her feet. They jumped out and he pulled her toward the closest building.



With one hard hit from his shoulder, the locked door caved in. He pushed her inside. “It will follow. We need to find a defensible position.”



“Does it have a weakness?”



“Blunt force. Lots of it.”



“I rammed it into a wall with a van. If that doesn’t kill it, what will?”



“A wrecking ball would be nice.” Logan urged her forward into the vacant building. It smelled of sawdust and fresh paint. Shiny new cubicle walls showed that this place was being remodeled. Blue wires dangled from the ceiling and stacks of carpet tiles sat neatly in one corner. Toward the front of the building, near the lobby, the ceiling opened up to create an airy foyer. Several large windows let in what was left of the daylight.



Despite their dire situation, Hope was still impressed by the remodeling job. Sadly, it was devoid of any wrecking balls. “I don’t see anything like that here. Do you?”



“Hide,” he ordered. “I’ll hold it off while you get away.”



“I’m not leaving you.”



They wove through the cubicles until they found the front exit of the building. A hard vibration shook the walls.



“The Warden is here,” said Logan. “Go.”



“Not until you tell me how you’re going to kill it.”



“I’ll think of something.” He looked up at the impressive two-story entrance. “Perhaps drop something heavy on its head as it passes.”



He shoved the front door open, cracking the glass with the force of breaking the lock. Then he pushed her through the opening. “Run. Hide.”



Logan turned his back on her, crouched, and jumped up. She saw him cling to the railing of the walkway above, and then he disappeared from sight.



Through the cracked glass, she saw a cleanly severed cubicle wall fly across the room.



As strong as Logan was, he was no match for that thing. And neither was she.



Logan waited until the last second. The Warden lumbered into view in the foyer below, its wicked blades slicing the air as it searched for prey.



A harmonic hum filled the air, the sound beautiful and deadly.



As soon as he had a clear view, Logan hefted the tile saw over the edge of the railing and tossed it at the Warden’s head.



It spun around, striking out at the projectile. The saw was halved by the Warden’s blade, but one of those halves struck home, taking a chunk of its shoulder with it.



The musical sound of growing crystal rose up as the Warden began to heal itself.



It looked up. Its transparent eyes fixed on Logan. A white light of recognition flared. Shards sprouted from its toes and forearms. It went to the nearest wall and began crawling up it, using those shards to dig deep and propel itself upward.



Logan backed away from the railing and darted along the catwalk.



Below, he saw a flash of movement and honey blond hair.



Hope. She’d come back in to help him.



Fear and rage pooled in his stomach. With every second that passed, the sun sank farther below the horizon, giving him strength. He was a long way from his best, but he’d find a way to kill that Warden and save Hope. There was no other option. He couldn’t let this creature loose on a city full of unsuspecting humans.