Hunting Human (15 page)

“I took her throat.” He said it as though it mystified him. “It was… interesting.”

Liz watched, horrified, as an amused and bloody grin spread across his face. “My first hunt. My first human kill.” He paced forward. “I’ve killed boar. And deer, of course. But this…” He swept a hand in their direction, “It was everything Markko promised. Primal. Exhilarating.”

“I wonder…” His gaze traveled curiously over his fingers as he flexed and curled them. “I wonder. Hands in place of teeth. Human instead of beast. How does it compare?”

Liz forced herself to slide away from Rachel, groping the earth behind her as he lunged. Her fingers curled around wood as he overwhelmed her, forcing her into the forest floor.

“Lucky you’re here, no?” He smiled at her, every bit the animal that had murdered Rachel. “Which kill will I enjoy more?”

Calloused hands wrapped around her throat. Liz slammed the stick in her hand as hard as she could against his side. He laughed as it broke like a twig against rock. His grin widened and his grip tightened, seizing the air from her lungs as she kicked wildly beneath him, groping the forest around them with blind hands.

“This is good.” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Your panic…” He groaned and thrust forward, the proof of his sadistic excitement brushing her thigh.

Her fingers curled around smooth stone, frantically digging at the edges, prying it from the earth.

“Your blood struggles beneath my hands. Hers spilled against my tongue. Will it taste the same?” He tilted his head and his face shifted, lengthened and pointed into a grotesque combination of man and wolf. He forced her head to the side, dove forward and buried long canines into the juncture of her shoulder and neck.

Pain and fury surged from her throat as teeth tore into her flesh. Liz slammed the rock into the side of his head with all of the remaining strength she possessed. His hands immediately retracted and she sucked the cool forest air into her lungs as she swung again. He toppled sideways, groaning in pain instead of pleasure. She rolled to her knees, struggling for breath as the world spun around her. She didn’t wait for it to stop.

She swung.

Again.

And again.

Until he couldn’t laugh. Or groan. Or move.

***

“Was he dead?” Braden asked.

“I…” Beth’s voice cracked. She took a deep breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth, willing the metallic tang of blood from her memory. “I don’t know.” A tissue pressed into her palm. “I don’t remember a lot after that.”

“How did you get out of the woods?”

Beth struggled for the details. She remembered walking. Frozen and numb for what felt like hours. But that was all. “I don’t know. I found a road. All I remember after that is headlights bearing down on me.” Breaks squealing and people shouting frantically emerged, then faded into her memory. “Everything’s blurry for almost a week after that. I must have answered some questions. They were able to find…they found her. Put me on a plane home. Other than that…”

She jerked her arm away from the hand Braden extended. He’d tried a couple of times to touch her or comfort her as she relayed the story. Each time, she’d jerked away from him. She’d seen his expressions. She knew it hurt him.

I don’t care.

“You were hospitalized for some time…” Mr. Edwards’s voice trailed off. He’d been a calm, steady influence through the entire conversation. “We understand you spent some time being treated for mental wounds.”

Beth laughed, harsh and grating. He put it so delicately. “They thought I’d lost my mind.” She’d been manic in her insistence of what had happened. “I swore to everyone who would listen that Rachel had been murdered by werewolves. Everyone thought I’d suffered a psychotic break.” Beth struggled to regain the artificial calm that had blanketed her as she’d told the story.

“That must have been very difficult.” Mr. Edwards replaced the tissue she’d shredded with a fresh one.

“Yeah.” The hardest part had been seeing the Colliers’ horrified expressions. Watching Mr. Collier’s eyes shutter as he comforted his wife every time she sobbed when Beth had to be sedated for another paranoia-induced rant. “They admitted me for my own protection. It took weeks before I was calm enough to start therapy.”

“They talked, over and over and over again, about how I was blurring two events in my head. Said I was trying to rationalize the trauma.” She rubbed her arms and wrists, the feel of the safety restraints heavy against her skin. “It took awhile, but they talked me into their version of events. Rachel and I had been kidnapped and set loose to be hunted in the woods. But after that…” Beth squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed a weary hand across her forehead. “After that, they said a wolf had gotten to Rachel. Insisted wolves were common in the area. Natural night hunters. They said I was blurring the two events together and creating a wild story to cope with her death.”

“You believed them?”

Braden’s soft question plowed into her. “Of course I did!”

He jerked back as if the force of her anger had been a physical blow. “They were perfectly logical. Werewolves don’t exist. They’re figments of our imagination. Caricatures of fear. When that didn’t convince me, they pointed out that I’d been bitten. I had two dozen stitches and a round of rabies vaccines to prove it.” Her anger abandoned her in a whoosh, leaving her hollow and exhausted. “A month passed. A full moon come and gone. I never changed. So logically…”

“It’s one of many misconceptions. It often takes months for the symptoms to manifest.” Mr. Edwards leaned back into his chair, as if allowing her a little space to deal with the revelation. “Lycanthropy is like a disease in many regards, and like a disease, it takes time to incubate, to fully affect the body.”

Beth glanced up. The question on the tip of her tongue must have been written on her face because she didn’t have to voice it.

“There’s no stopping it from taking hold. No cure once bitten.”

Beth nodded and looked away, staring vacantly at the far wall. She hadn’t thought there would be.

“How did you end up in Portland?” He left the
and in my son’s bed
unvoiced.

Beth lifted her gaze and tilted her head.

I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.

“I’d been attending outpatient therapy for months. I started trying to put my life back together. I went to the gym. Ate regular meals. Slept four or five hours at a stretch. I started considering getting a job or going back to school.” Beth remembered those months, walking through the days like a wraith, barely existing.

“Then the full moon came again and I changed.” Ghostly sensations of the terror that had ripped through her when the first fierce spasms of the shift wrenched her to the ground slid through her again. “I couldn’t hide from it any longer. And I couldn’t stay in Boston. It wasn’t fair to Rachel’s family. Less than a week later, I packed up my car and started across the country. I started going by Beth. I took seasonal jobs. Moved around a lot. Every time I’d get settled in a new city, start to know my way around, I’d get restless and leave again. I don’t know why.”

“You stuck to the big cities on the West Coast, right?” Braden interjected.

“I went to Denver first. Spent about a month looking for Allison. I’d hoped…” she shrugged.

“That you weren’t alone,” Mr. Edwards supplied. “You never found her?”

“No. So I moved to L.A., then San Francisco. Thought about trying San Diego, but came here instead.” Beth caught Braden’s gaze and let all of her hurt and anger swim across her face. “Portland was the first place I actually thought about staying. I liked working at Angie’s, liked Angie and Marianne. And then I switched to the morning shift and you walked in, and I liked you, too.” She felt heat infusing her cheeks and angry, betrayed tears burn at the corners of her eyes. She jerked her face away from him. “I had no idea.”

Mr. Edwards nodded his assent, seeming to accept her words as truth. “I can at least shed a little light onto why you felt as restless as you did. It’s fairly uncommon to find our kind in large cities. In fact, most of the North American Werewolf population resides in places like Alaska, Canada and the northwest portion of the U.S. There are also some small pockets and groups tucked in around the Rockies. Most of us aren’t cut out for city life. It’s too hectic. Too loud. Too closed in and polluted. It often results in that itchy, restless feeling you described. You probably mistook it for fear.”

“Yeah.” How many times had she jumped at shadows? How many nights had she been afraid to enter her apartment alone?

“I’d say that’s natural. Portland probably felt more natural to you for two reasons. First, time was starting to distance the memories. You were becoming more relaxed. Right?”

She jerked her head once. How could she have been so stupid? Even if things hadn’t turned out this way, what had she thought would happen? A normal life—with normal friends and normal relationships—was something she couldn’t have. And deep down, she’d known it.

“The other reason is that for a city its size, Portland has done a remarkable job preserving the natural surroundings. The mountains as well as several state and national parks, lie just to the east, and there are an abundance of parks throughout the city. People like us, people balancing the wolf and everyday life, are drawn to cities like Portland. It’s not surprising you were, too.”

“Portland provided you a blend of security,” Braden spoke up. “It soothed the instincts that told you to stay in large cities, to blend into the general population. It also satisfied the wolf’s need to be near nature, near areas it would feel comfortable.”

Beth burrowed her fingers through her hair and drew her knees to her chest. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t care about the wolf’s needs.

“I’m afraid we owe you an apology, Elizabeth.” Mr. Edwards stood and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.

Beth allowed it, amazed she found it so easy to accept a friendly gesture from this man. Even as he stood above her, looking weary and wearing a kind smile, he managed to share some of his stillness.

Does he ever lose his temper?

“I hope you’ll accept that we mean you no harm. But we knew Markko was in Portland and our families have a violent history.” He moved toward the door, gently squeezing Braden’s shoulder as he went. “When you began to shift, my boys responded as though you were an enemy. It was necessary, but I apologize all the same.” He smiled a little and pulled the door open. “We’ll do our best to make it up to you.”

Stunned by his easy acceptance of her story, Beth cleared her throat. “I just want to go home.”

The reassuring smile slipped from his face. “I’m afraid that I cannot allow that.”

Beth rose to her feet, her fear surging back, burning hot in her stomach. “I’ve answered all of your questions. You have no right to keep me here.”

“I understand. Truly I do. But I cannot in good conscience allow you to go while Markko remains a threat.” He pulled the door open, as though the conversation was finished. “Braden will get you anything you need. Please make yourself at home. Take a warm shower. When you’re done come upstairs, we’ll have breakfast and I’ll call Mike, our family doctor, to take a look at those hands.”

Before Beth could protest that she didn’t want a doctor, or breakfast, or a shower, or that she just wanted to get the fuck out of here, he closed the door. Frustrated, she turned her anger on Braden. “You can’t keep me here. This is kidnapping!”

Braden rose and carefully took a step back toward the door. He looked her over as if he expected to see her attack him at any moment.

You deserve it, you bastard.

For the first time, Beth really looked at him. Regret showed in every line of his body and the flatness of his expression. A spectacular bruise covered his temple and a neat row of stitches marched into his hair. She couldn’t restrain the grim smile that curled her lips.

He opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry.” The surprise that crossed his features indicated that wasn’t at all what he’d meant to say.

“I don’t care.” Beth’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. “Sorry doesn’t fix anything. I don’t want to be anywhere near you.”

His face pinched, as though the words truly hurt. Resigned, his shoulders dropped. “I won’t let him hurt you.”

“He hasn’t hurt me in years.”

Braden flinched, but didn’t defend himself against the implication. “You’ve got fresh towels, I’ll go see if I can find something of my sister’s for you to wear.”

He opened the door. “For what it’s worth, Beth, I am sorry.” He pulled the door shut behind him before she could form a reply.

She paced the room for several minutes, debating what to do. Finally, she reached for the door, testing the knob beneath her palm. It twisted in her hand and the door swung open. He hadn’t locked her in. She stood in the threshold, paralyzed with indecision. She could leave, but even if she made it out of the house, she had no idea where she was.

And Markko was still out there. Waiting. She couldn’t go back to her apartment, not even to get her Jeep.

She slammed the door and turned to the bathroom. For now, at least, she’d have to trust that Mr. Edwards would keep his promise. She had nowhere else to go.

Beth slung her borrowed lounge pants low on her hips and rolled the sleeves of the sweatshirt up to her forearms, trying to compensate for the fact they were both too small for her. She shoved her feet in her shoes, quickly did up the laces and opened the bathroom door, carefully avoiding her reflection. She’d seen it once already and that was enough. A worn, pale face, with dark circles beneath her eyes had stared back at her. Not something she needed to see before she met the rest of Braden’s family.

Why do I even care?

Why did she care? It wasn’t as though she was meeting her boyfriend’s family; she refused to think of it like that. She forced herself to face what she’d known, at some level, all along. Personal relationships were beyond her reach.

The thought gutted her. It was her own fault. She should never have gotten involved with Braden. She knew with certain dread that the few weeks of normal happiness she’d had with him would haunt her for years. But she was determined to rectify her mistake. Starting with demanding answers to the questions that had descended on her like angry bees while she stood under the roar of the shower.

Braden pushed away from the wall when she entered the bedroom. “Breakfast is ready. I’m sure you’re hungry,” he said, gesturing toward the open door.

“I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers.” She lingered in the doorway of the bathroom and crossed her arms.

He shifted from foot to foot and glanced toward the stairs. Finally, he moved to the chair his father had occupied earlier that morning and slumped into it. “Alright.” He nodded to the bed in front of him and shot her an irritated look when she didn’t move. “For Christ’s sake, Beth, I’m not going to maul you. I said I’d answer your damn questions, just come sit down.”

She considered him for a long moment but finally decided the concession was small enough. “Fine.” She sat across from him and leveled him with a flat stare. “Your father mentioned Markko by name. Implied you thought I was working with him against your family. I want to know why.”

Braden sighed and relaxed into the chair. “The answer to that is complicated. My father wasn’t lying when he said our families had a violent history. The Bolveks…”

“Who?” Beth interrupted.

“Markko’s family,” he explained. “The Bolveks are an old clan, going back generations. Some of the conflict is rooted in mythology.”

“I don’t care about that, I just want the facts.”

“I figured.” He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Look, what happened to you…That used to be a lot more common. Back in the 1980s and early 1990s the Bolveks were at the height of their power. They ran one of the largest crime syndicates in Eastern Europe and, because so much of the region was unstable, they got away with it. Had their hands in everything from human trafficking to arms supply and money laundering. Their criminal activities were bad enough, but the atrocities against humanity, Beth, I can’t even tell you.” He shook his head as if shaking off angry memories. She jerked away when he reached for her hand. “Anyway, their numbers started to surge. Rumors spread that Viktor Bolvek, Markko’s father, was building an army. When rumors of attacks against people began to spread outside the werewolf population, the Council decided to step in.”

“The Council?”

“It’s sort of a governing group of clan leaders based here in the States. A representative from every major family in the Americas and most of Western Europe meet every few years, more often if something comes up. An emergency session was held to decide how to handle the Bolvek situation. My father and his younger brother, Jeremy, worked to dismantle their organization. They were gone for more than a year and a half,” he quietly admitted. “He doesn’t talk a lot about it. The situation was a lot worse than they’d expected.”

“In what way?”

Braden shifted uncomfortably. “The Bolveks had been building an army…They’d been turning kids, Beth. Many in their early teens. Some as young as six or seven. A half dozen compounds were discovered littered throughout the Carpathians. All of them had packs of feral juveniles. The Council made the decision to hit them simultaneously—isolate the young wolves, kill the adults.”

Beth pulled her legs to her chest, trying to digest what she was hearing.

“A lot of good people died in those raids. They simply weren’t prepared for the juvenile wolves to fight them…” He trailed off, his gaze wandering the room.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and voiced the question on the tip of her tongue. “And the kids?”

“A lot of them were subdued, some of them escaped. But several were killed in the fighting. It still bothers my father. It took more than a year and a half, but ultimately, the Bolvek ranks were devastated. They never managed to reorganize and recover.”

“I guess that explains a lot.”

“Yeah, but not everything. You should know, Beth, that the Bolveks hold our family personally responsible for the destruction of their clan.”

“Why? If it was the Council’s decision…”

“Because it was my father and his brother that led the raid on their main compound. Markko was hardly an only child—he’s actually one of the youngest. Three of his older brothers and two of his uncles were killed in the raid. Markko and his younger brother Ivan escaped that night with their father, Viktor. But not before they witnessed the destruction of the majority of their clan. My Uncle Jeremy died that night.”

Braden gently gripped her elbow and pulled her up from the bed, guiding her toward the door. “You have to understand, Beth. As far as Markko’s concerned, you’re affiliated with our family now. That alone would be reason enough to hate you. That you killed his brother ensures that he’s not going to stop coming after you. Not until you’re dead.” He paused in the doorway. “I know you’re angry, God knows you’ve got every right, but you’re safest here with us. Let us help. Please.”

Head racing with everything he’d divulged, all she could do was shrug.

“Alright. How about breakfast?” he asked, gesturing toward the stairs.

Her stomach growled at the thought of food and she tucked away her whirling thoughts for the time being. There’d be time to examine them later. Braden pressed close behind her as they ascended the stairs, heating her back and infusing her awareness with him. The way he moved, the way he smelled…

Beth derailed that train of thought before it led her down a dangerous path. The moment they were in the hallway she lengthened her stride to put some distance between them.

They crossed through a huge family room, honey-colored wood floors gleaming in the morning sun streaming through the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Two huge leather sofas bracketed a large river stone fireplace on the far wall. A book lay facedown on the arm of the sofa, waiting for the reader to return. She felt as if she were looking at the room through the lens of a filmmaker’s camera. The picture was warm and inviting, but she felt strangely disconnected to it, as though it were a hollow imitation of the real thing.

“This used to be our weekend home when I was a kid. My parents moved out here permanently after my dad retired,” Braden said, breaking the silence between them.

Beth turned to face him. “And where, exactly, is here?” She tried to keep her tone flat and neutral.

Braden winced and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Sorry. We’re still in Oregon, not far from Washington, actually.” He shifted under her flat stare. “On the coast, west of Portland.”

“Oh.” The longer Beth watched him—the way his shoulders drooped, the way he cautiously stared at her, the tentative voice he used to speak with her—the faster her anger began to slip away. Unwilling to deal with whatever emotions would be left behind, she moved toward the kitchen.

The typical noise of a family breakfast filtered out to her as she moved closer. Forks clanked against plates and irregular laughter burst through the door and down the hall. As she entered, the aroma of bacon, eggs and hash browns assaulted her senses. A huge granite island dominated the room, and several counter-height barstools circled the arched edge, creating an eating space. Mr. Edwards sat on the corner farthest from the door, drinking his coffee and reading the sports page. A woman, most likely Mrs. Edwards, stood on the opposite side, turning bacon in the pan directly across from the eating area.

The normalcy jarred violently with everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

“Hey! Burrito bandito, get your own tortilla!” A young woman with pale blond hair and the clearest complexion Beth had ever seen slapped away the hand grabbing for the burrito on her plate.

“Why? Yours is right here.” The young man sitting next to her made another grab, scowling when she yanked her breakfast out of harm’s way.

Beth narrowed her eyes. The guy she recognized. He’d been with Braden yesterday, had bound her hands and shoved her in the trunk. She wrapped her arms around her middle, her aching ribs reminding her that he’d also Tasered her.

“Lucy. Chase. Cut it out.” The woman pointed her spatula at the two in a way that reminded Beth strongly of Angie. “Come on in, you two, and have a seat,” she said, stepping away from the stove, moving calmly toward them, a warm smile on her face.

Beth jumped when Braden’s warm hand settled heavily on her lower back. She stepped out of his grasp but pulled up short. Everyone stared. Even Mr. Edwards glanced over his paper in their direction.

“Hi, honey.”

Beth stiffened, completely unprepared for the warm embrace that engulfed her.

“Sorry.” The woman stepped back and awkwardly ran her hands through her hair. A gesture she shared with her son. “I’m Anna, Braden’s mother.” She slipped her hand into Beth’s and pulled her into the kitchen. “You’ve already met my husband, of course. But I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to these two.”

Anna gestured to the two sitting at the counter. “This is Lucy.”

“Hi.” Lucy smiled, glancing over Beth.

In another reality, Beth might have thought she was being weighed and measured in an attempt to determine if she was suitable for Braden.

“And this is Chase.”

Steady eyes caught hers. “We’ve met,” he said.

“I’m aware you’ve
met
.” Anna’s sneer perfectly complemented her tone. “I said
properly
introduced, didn’t I?”

He ducked his head, but Beth caught the smile that quirked his lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

For a long moment, Anna stared at him, hands on her hips, expression fierce. She threw up her hands, muttered something Beth didn’t catch and moved back to the stove. “The two of you move over so Elizabeth and Braden can sit together.”

There was bit of shuffling, a little shoving and a lot of plates and forks clanking together, but they moved down toward their father, leaving enough empty stools for Beth and Braden to sit next to each other at the end and still have a few vacant in the middle.

“Now Elizabeth, how do you like your eggs?”

The casual question took Beth off guard. She floundered for what to say and glanced around at everyone else’s plates. “Scrambled is fine.”

Beth watched, Braden hovering beside her, as Anna cracked a couple of eggs into the pan and began to briskly beat them with a fork.

“Mike’s on his way. He should be here in a few minutes.” Anna’s stern glare turned on Braden. “You should never have let him leave last night, knowing she was hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You aren’t.” Braden looked at her wrists, which were still raw and painful, even after she’d done her best not to irritate them in the shower.

Beth opened her mouth to contradict him. She
was
fine. She didn’t want to see Mike, whoever he was.

“Please don’t argue.”

She jerked her hand away when he tried to cover it with his own. He clenched his fingers, but pulled away.

“Mike’s our family doctor. Let him check you over, make sure everything’s okay.”

“You call the family doctor for all the people you kidnap?” Beth let the full force of anger consume her face when Braden opened his mouth. “I’m sure that’s simple to explain.
Sorry to call you out here doc, but we Tasered a girl, then tossed her in the trunk of the car yesterday. We just want to make sure she’ll live
.”

“Nobody said anything to me about a Taser!” Anna’s irate voice broke through most of Beth’s anger. “A Taser, Braden? How could you?”

Braden jerked away from his mother. “That was Chase!”

Anna rounded on Chase. “Apologize. Now.”

“But…”

“Both of you. Now.”

“Sorry.” They muttered at the same time, obviously unwilling to ignore their mother’s edict. Braden wouldn’t look at her and Chase suddenly took a ravenous interest in his breakfast. Anna pushed a plate of freshly scrambled eggs and steaming bacon in front of her.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Uh…”

“We’ve got orange juice, milk, water, coffee…”

“Orange juice is fine.”

Anna turned away and pulled a glass out of the cabinet.

“That was awesome!” Lucy leaned across the two empty chairs between them, a huge smile broadcasting perfect teeth. “No one can make them cower like Mom.” Her eyes danced with amusement. “I bet if you squeeze out a few tears she’ll actually hit them with her spatula.”

Despite herself, Beth grinned.

“Eat your breakfast, Lucy.” Anna placed a glass of juice in front of Beth and handed her a fork. “Go ahead, you must be hungry.”

She was, Beth realized. She’d thrown the sandwiches Braden had brought her at his head last night and she hadn’t been tempted to touch them later. Picking up her fork, she speared a fluffy bit of eggs. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” Anna gave her a small smile of approval as she ate the first bite. Then she turned to Braden. “You can get your own plate.”

Braden huffed, but slid out of his chair without further protest and grabbed a plate.

“Do I smell bacon?” Another man, close in age to Braden, walked through the door, dropping a small bag from his shoulder to the floor. Tall and a little rangy, he had a narrow face that sported a pair of frameless glasses. He was obviously at home in their kitchen and there was something deeply familiar about his smile.