Deadly Pursuit (A Blood Hunter Novel, #2) (2 page)

Hezrai
almost
dropped
it.

Now
he
knew
where
the
disgusting
smell
was
coming
from.
Staring
down
into
its
red
face,
he
tried
to
feel
some
religious
awe.
This
was
the
High
Priestess
returned
to
them.
She
blinked
at
him
from
intense
gray
eyes,
screwed
up
her
features,
and
screamed,
nearly
bursting
his
eardrums.

“Quiet,
child.”
He
made
an
effort
to
keep
his
voice
even.
If
he
gave
in
to
his
natural
inclination
and
screamed
back,
he
suspected
it
would
do
more
harm
than
good.

She
shrieked
louder.

“Give
her
to
me.”
Sister
Martha
held
out
her
arms.

A
second
ago,
he
would
have
gladly
handed
her
over;
now
that
the
sister
had
asked,
he
tightened
his
grip
and
gritted
his
teeth.
“The
child
belongs
to
God
now.
She
must
learn
obedience.”

The
baby
quieted,
her
lips
curving
into
a
sweet
smile.

“There,
you
see,
she
just
needs
discipline.”

She
opened
her
mouth
and
regurgitated
vile
smelling,
half-digested
milk
down
his
pristine
black
robe.

That
was
the
moment
Hezrai
Fischer
began
to
hate
the
brand
new
High
Priestess
of
the
Church
of
Everlasting
Life.

Chapter
One

Where
the
hell
am
I?

Jon’s
head
throbbed,
and
his
mouth
tasted
like
shit.
He
shivered
with
the
cold,
and
then
a
moment
later
sweat
broke
out
on
his
forehead.
Nausea
roiled
in
his
gut.
He
rolled
off
the
bed,
landed
on
all
fours,
and
retched.
There
was
nothing
in
his
stomach,
but
he
stayed,
head
hanging
low
while
he
attempted
to
piece
together
what
was
going
on.

He
was
alive,
and
he
wasn’t
sure
how
he
felt
about
that.

Shaking
his
head,
he
tried
to
clear
the
haze
from
his
mind.
Cryo
always
did
that
to
him—left
his
reactions
slow,
his
brain
sluggish,
and
the
rest
of
him
feeling
like
crap.

What
the
hell
had
happened?

The
last
thing
he
remembered
was
being
captured,
and
his
last
thought
had
been
that
he
was
as
good
as
dead.

Instead,
he
was
here.
Wherever
here
was.

It
appeared
to
be
a
cabin—not
a
cell,
and
he
wasn’t
restrained
in
any
way,
but
his
inner
senses
were
screaming
danger.
Closing
his
eyes,
he
breathed
in
and
caught
the
lingering
scent
of
death
on
the
air.
Not
the
usual
sort
of
death
that
vanished
with
time,
but
the
evil,
blood-sucking
sort
that
refused
to
lie
down
and
rot.

A
sharp
buzz
shrilled
through
the
cabin,
and
his
muscles
tightened.
He
forced
himself
to
relax
as
he
realized
someone
was
outside.
At
least
they
were
being
polite.
He
stumbled
to
his
feet,
swayed,
and
supported
himself
with
one
hand
flat
against
the
wall
until
his
legs
steadied
beneath
him.

Goddamn
cryo
made
him
as
weak
as
a
puppy.
He
was
also
naked,
so
he
grabbed
a
small
towel
from
the
bed
and
wrapped
it
around
his
hips.

At
the
door,
he
peered
into
the
monitor.
A
boy
stood
in
the
corridor,
skinny
with
a
shock
of
dark
red
hair
and
big
gray
eyes.
Shifting
from
foot
to
foot,
the
boy
had
a
bundle
of
clothes
tucked
under
one
arm
and
a
tray
of
food
balanced
on
the
other.
Jon’s
stomach
rumbled.

After
locating
the
panel
beside
the
entrance,
he
pressed
his
palm
to
it
and
then
stood
aside
as
the
door
slid
open
and
the
boy
shuffled
inside.
Up
close,
the
kid
only
came
as
high
as
Jon’s
shoulder—he
must
have
been
fourteen,
fifteen
at
the
most.
At
the
sight
of
Jon,
his
eyes
widened
and
his
gaze
flicked
down
over
Jon’s
body
before
fixing
somewhere
to
the
left
of
him.

“Yes?”
he
snapped
when
the
boy
said
nothing.

His
gaze
shot
back
to
Jon’s
face
then
settled
on
his
chest.
“I’m
Al,
the
cabin
boy.”

“So?”

“I
brought
you
some
clothes.
And
we’ve
had
supper,
but
earlier
you
said
you
wouldn’t
eat
with
a
piece
of
Collective…”

“I
did?”

Christ,
he
couldn’t
remember,
though
it
sounded
like
the
sort
of
thing
he
would
say.
He
hated
the
Collective.
Not
as
much
as
he
hated
the
Church,
which
wasn’t
really
saying
much.
Forcing
his
mind
to
concentrate,
he
struggled
to
remember
where
he
was
and
how
he’d
gotten
here.
A
vague
memory
of
the
boy
showing
him
to
the
cabin
earlier
flickered
through
his
mind.
There
had
been
some
talk
about
the
Collective,
but
Jon
had
only
just
come
around
from
the
cryo,
and
he
hadn’t
been
paying
attention.

Al
nodded.
“Anyway…I
brought
you
some
food.
Though
the
captain
says
you’re
not
a
prisoner,
and
if
you
stay
on
this
ship,
you
eat
with
her
crew.”

Jon
had
no
intention
of
staying
on
this
ship
or
eating
with
the
crew.
At
the
first
opportunity,
he
was
away.
He
had
a
bloody
double-crossing
bastard
to
hunt
down
and
exterminate.

“If
I’m
not
a
prisoner,
I
presume
I’m
free
to
leave.”

“I
suppose
so.
Though
you
don’t
have
a
ship,
and
we’re
in
deep
space,
and…”
Al
shrugged
a
shoulder.
“There’s
a
meeting
tomorrow
to
decide
what
we
should
do.
Skylar
says
the
Collective
will
come
after
you.”

“Skylar?”

“She’s
Collective,
but
she
said
she
was
your
sister—that’s
why
we
broke
you
out
of
prison.”