Deadly Pursuit (A Blood Hunter Novel, #2) (53 page)

Beside
her,
Sister
Martha
gasped.
“Is
this
true?”

“Of
course
it’s
not
true,”
Hezrai
said.
“The
High
Priestess
is
dead,
but
it
was
a
terrible
accident.”

Jon
smiled.
“Actually,
that’s
not
quite
true.
The
bit
about
the
High
Priestess
being
dead,
I
mean.”
He
straightened
and
held
out
his
hand
to
Alex.
She
stepped
forward.

Unlike
Sister
Martha,
Hezrai
didn’t
immediately
recognize
her.
His
gaze
ran
over
her,
and
his
frown
deepened.
Alex
reached
up,
plucked
the
wig
from
her
head,
and
tossed
it
onto
the
desk
between
them.

Hezrai
gaped
at
her.
“You?”

Funny—he
didn’t
sound
particularly
pleased
to
see
her.
She
ran
her
fingers
through
her
flattened
hair
and
shrugged.
“Afraid
so.”

Alex
watched
the
expressions
cross
his
face.
Unlike
her,
he’d
never
bothered
learning
the
art
of
keeping
his
thoughts
to
himself.
He
was
too
arrogant
to
bother.

Disbelief,
followed
by
a
flash
of
hatred,
and
then
panic.

He
opened
his
mouth.
Swallowed.
Closed
it.
Finally,
he
managed
to
get
the
words
out.
“Lady
Alexia,
how…wonderful.”

Alex
almost
laughed
at
the
feeble
attempt.

He
inched
toward
the
edge
of
the
desk,
his
hands
fluttering
at
his
side.

“There’s
an
alarm
under
the
desk,”
Alex
said.

Jon
reached
across
the
expanse
of
gleaming
metal,
grabbed
Hezrai
by
the
throat,
and
dragged
him
across
the
surface.
Hezrai
was
tall,
but
Jon
held
him
with
apparent
ease,
so
the
priest’s
feet
dangled
inches
from
the
floor.
Jon
loosened
his
grip,
and
Hezrai
crumpled
to
the
thick,
richly
patterned
carpet.

His
gaze
darted
around
the
room,
coming
to
rest
on
Skylar.
She’d
swiveled
around
in
her
chair
to
be
able
to
watch
the
proceedings.

“You
can’t
do
anything
to
me,”
Hezrai
choked
out.
“You
wouldn’t
dare
in
front
of
the
Collective.”

“Really?”
Jon
drew
back
his
foot
and
kicked
Hezrai
in
the
ribs.

He
rolled
onto
his
side,
arms
around
his
middle.
Alex
waited
to
feel
some
sense
of
justice,
but
nothing
came—just
weariness
and
a
need
to
get
this
over
with.
She
would
have
loved
to
have
a
go
at
Hezrai
herself,
but
in
a
fair
fight—not
like
this.
But
this
wasn’t
about
fighting
fair;
it
was
about
getting
the
information
they
needed.

Sister
Martha
had
started
forward,
but
Rico
stopped
her
with
a
hand
on
her
arm.

“Let
me
go,
young
man.”

Rico
growled.
Skylar
must
have
noticed
the
sound
because
she
rose
to
her
feet,
strode
over,
and
placed
a
hand
on
Rico’s
shoulder.
“Are
you
okay?”

“Of
course
I’m
okay.
Why
wouldn’t
I
be
okay?”

She
smiled.
“I
know
you’re
not
keen
on
the
Church.
And
you
seem
a
little
tense.”

Rico
snorted
at
the
understatement.
“I’m
fine.”
He
released
Sister
Martha.
“Alex,
take
her
and
keep
her
out
of
my
way.”

There
was
a
padded
velvet
bench
running
along
one
wall
of
the
office.
Alex
led
Sister
Martha
across
and
sat
down
beside
her.
Skylar
sank
down
on
her
other
side.

“Lady
Alexia,
what’s
going
on?”
Sister
Martha
asked.

Alex
bit
her
lip;
she
wasn’t
sure
how
much
to
reveal
to
the
sister.
But
maybe
she
needed
to
know
the
truth.

“Yesterday,
I
gave
myself
up
to
Hezrai.
He
handed
me
over
to
some
men
and
told
them
he
didn’t
care
what
they
did
to
me
as
long
as
I
was
dead
at
the
end
of
it.”
She
touched
her
finger
to
her
cheek
and
nodded
to
where
Hezrai
still
lay
on
the
floor.
“He
did
this
before
he
left.
I
would
have
been
dead,
except
Jon
came
back
and
saved
me.”

Sister
Martha
gazed
across
at
the
priest.
“I
would
like
to
say
I
don’t
believe
you,
but
I
do.
What
do
your
‘friends’
plan
to
do?”

“They
need
to
know
why.
It’s
important.
They
wouldn’t
hurt
him
otherwise.”
Actually,
she
wasn’t
sure
that
was
true;
Jon
had
expressed
a
wish
to
tear
Hezrai
limb
from
limb,
but
maybe
it
was
best
not
to
share
that
little
piece
of
information
with
Sister
Martha.
“They
won’t
hurt
him
if
he
tells
them
what
they
need
to
know.”
She
wasn’t
sure
about
that
either.

A
transformation
seemed
to
come
over
Rico
as
he
strolled
toward
where
Jon
stood
over
the
cowering
priest.
The
tension
left
him,
and
he
appeared
relaxed,
a
slight
smile
curving
his
lips,
not
quite
enough
to
flash
a
fang.

“Hey,
leave
the
guy
alone,”
he
murmured
to
Jon.
“He’s
a
priest—obviously
he
hasn’t
done
anything
wrong.”

Alex
wondered
if
Hezrai
could
hear
the
irony
in
the
vampire’s
voice.
Beside
her,
Skylar
snorted.
“Oh
God,
they’re
doing
the
good
agent,
bad
agent
routine.”

“And
Rico’s
the
good
agent?”

“Yeah,
and
I
bet
he’s
great
at
it,
the
smooth
bastard.
Watch.”

Rico
crouched
down
beside
Hezrai.
“Come
on,
up
you
get.”

Hezrai
was
clearly
bewildered,
but
he
allowed
himself
to
be
helped
up
and
into
the
chair.

“Let
me
get
you
a
drink.
You’ve
obviously
had
a
shock.”
Rico
glanced
around
the
room,
found
what
he
wanted,
and
headed
over
to
the
small
bar
that
held
a
crystal
decanter
and
a
set
of
glasses.
He
opened
the
decanter
and
sniffed
the
contents.
“Hey,
whiskey—a
man
after
my
own
heart.”
He
poured
a
glass
of
the
amber
liquid
and
swallowed
it
in
one
gulp,
poured
another,
and
brought
it
back
to
Hezrai.

Hezrai’s
hands
shook
as
he
took
the
glass.
Keeping
his
gaze
fixed
on
Jon,
he
sipped
the
liquid,
some
of
the
color
seeping
back
into
his
skin.
He
cleared
his
throat
and
spoke
to
Rico.
“What
is
it
you
want
from
me?”

Rico
perched
himself
on
the
edge
of
the
desk.
“You
had
a
meeting
with
Collective
member
Aiden
Ross
a
while
back.
We
need
to
know
why.”

“She’s
lying,”
he
said,
staring
at
Alex,
the
old
hatred
back
in
his
eyes.
“Whatever
she
told
you—I
never
met
with
Aiden
Ross.
She’s
crazy.
Always
was
unstable,
making
up
stories
and
lies.”

A
growl
rumbled
from
Jon’s
throat.
He
stepped
closer,
pushed
up
his
sleeve,
and
held
his
arm
up
in
front
of
Hezrai’s
face.

“You
asked
yesterday
what
I
was.
Let
me
show
you.”

The
hand
stretched,
reshaped
before
their
eyes,
elongating,
dark
brown
fur
sprouting,
razor-sharp
claws
breaking
through
the
skin.

“That
is
so
cool,”
Skylar
said.

It
was.
Alex
had
been
trying
not
to
think
too
much
about
the
whole
werewolf
thing.
It
just
added
another
layer
of
complication.
Did
werewolves
have
relationships
with
humans
or
did
they
stick
to
their
own
kind?
She
needed
to
have
a
nice
cozy
chat
with
Rico.
Rico
seemed
to
know
everything
about
everything.

Jon
reached
out
almost
gently
and
ran
one
claw
down
Hezrai’s
cheek.
The
priest
tried
to
back
away,
but
the
chair
was
pushed
up
against
the
desk,
locking
him
in
place.
Blood
beaded
up
from
the
cut,
he
released
a
small
whimper,
and
his
gaze
turned
to
Rico.
“Stop
him,”
he
pleaded.

“I’ll
try,”
Rico
said.
“But
he’s
a
little
unstable,
like
Alex
over
there.
Perhaps
you’d
better
tell
him
what
he
wants
to
know.”

“I
can’t.
I
didn’t
meet
with
anyone.”

Rico
rolled
his
eyes.
“Shit,
I’m
bored
of
being
good.”

He
pushed
himself
up
off
the
desk
and
stalked
the
two
steps
to
the
priest.
This
time,
when
he
smiled,
the
tips
of
his
white
fangs
showed.
Rico
touched
one
with
the
tip
of
his
tongue.

Alex
wanted
to
look
away.
This
side
of
Rico
had
always
terrified
her,
but
her
gaze
refused
to
shift
away
from
the
tableau.
Sister
Martha’s
hand
slid
into
hers
and
gripped
her
fingers
tight.
She
was
muttering
a
prayer
under
her
breath.