Hunting Season (Aurora Sky (11 page)

“We'll be waiting,” Melcher called after me.

Sure, send the teenager in to do the dirty work.

When I stepped outside, I caught the scent of wood smoke. It drifted from the chimneys, the only motion on the street in the middle of the day. I noted the house numbers nailed to the side of the house.

If only I could have one private minute to call Fane and update him on my status. I glanced over my shoulder. The SUV remained idling in the road, probably waiting to make sure I entered the house.

The front door was in a narrow outer entry between the garage and house.

I pounded on the wood then wrapped my arms around myself. There were no windows by the door and no way of knowing if anyone was home.

I didn't hear footsteps until they were almost at the door. Then they stopped.

“Who's there?” a male voice asked sharply.

“I'm a friend of Selene's.”

The sound of a deadbolt
clicked
. As the door swung back, I saw Randal peering through the frame. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked me over as though regarding a specimen beneath a microscope.

“What are you doing here?”

He was about as friendly as the first time I'd met him at the tasting, which was to say—not friendly at all.

“I'm here to see Selene.”

“Well, she's not in at the moment.” Randal began shutting the door.

“Can I wait for her?” I asked.

The door froze. Randal eyed my neck.

“She called you over to feed, didn't she?”

“Look, I'm already here,” I said. “Can I just come in and wait until she gets back?” Rather than wait for an answer, I pushed my way into a small mud room. A wood bench and shoe rack lined the wall beside the door.

Randal wore a dress shirt untucked, probably to try and help hide his protruding gut. As far as I knew, blood wasn't fattening. He must have retained a hearty appetite even in the afterlife.

“I don't have time to entertain Selene's friends. I work from home, you know. You're interrupting my work day.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you do?”

“Tech support,” Randal answered, puffing up his chest.

Tech support, not grave robbing. All in all, it didn't sound like a bad job for a vampire, especially working from home where clients wouldn't notice he didn't age.

All right, Aurora. Time to go for the Achilles heel.

“Then perhaps you could use a pick me up,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

Randal's gaze flitted to my neck then back to my face. “I am not in the habit of drinking from strangers.”

Yeah? And what did he call the wine girls at the lodge? Maybe he was more comfortable paying to suck.

“Suit yourself,” I said, heading into the house.

“Hey,” Randal called. “We have a shoes off policy.”

I rolled my eyes and turned slowly. “Fine.”

I plopped down onto the bench and yanked off my slip-on shoes. From there I stepped into a connecting kitchen barefoot. This half of the house was all open. The blinds were shut on the windows of the dining room facing the street. To the right, there was a living room furnished with a cream-colored couch, wood coffee table, and medium-sized TV propped on a simple wood stand.

No, not the posh digs I would have pictured worthy of Selene.

I returned my attention to the kitchen, into which Randal had followed me. After a quick scan of the countertops, I found what I'd been looking for—a wood knife block filled with black handles jabbing out. I walked up to it and removed one of the blades.

“What are you doing?” Randal demanded.

“Opening a vein,” I said, calmly.

If Randal was the stuffy shoes off kind of guy, he probably preferred a clean cut over biting through.

Randal stared at me bug-eyed. “We use that for cooking.”

Yeah, he was anal all right.

“Relax, I'll clean it in a moment,” I said.

“What blood type are you?”

“Type I don't know.”

Randal frowned. “You don't know your own blood type?”

“You got a type-O fetish or something?” I asked back.

Randal scowled. As far as enticing a vampire to bite me went, I wasn't doing a very smooth job. If I didn't convince him to bite the bullet soon, Selene would return, and we'd have a real problem on our hands.

I turned my arm over, wrist facing the ceiling, and traced a blue vein with the tip of the blade.

Randal leaned forward, suddenly quiet.

At this point, I hadn't put any pressure into the stroke. Cutting into myself gave me the willies, but it had to be done. I pressed harder. It stung. Using care, I sliced open the skin above the vein. Blood followed the edges of the knife like ink trailing a pen.

I set the knife down and balled my hand into a fist, squeezing more blood out. I lifted my wrist.

“Go ahead. I'll let you have a taste if you leave Selene and me alone when she returns.”

Randal's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “I told Selene not to do this kind of thing at my house. She and I are going to have a little chat when she returns.”

“Well, I'm already here, and I'm bleeding,” I answered sweetly.

Randal's eyes narrowed further. “I want you to leave.”

“Fine,” I said, matching his irritated tone with my own. “Do you have a Band-Aid or something?”

Randal huffed. “Wait here.”

He walked through the kitchen and disappeared around a hallway to the right.

Damn it.

Did I really have to shove my wrist into his face? Or maybe I should pick the knife back up and go directly for the kill. If Randal fought back, that wouldn't be fun. He might not have an athletic build, but there was a lot of him than me, and that could present a real problem.

Picky vampires were the worst.

Before I could make a decision, Randal returned. He stopped two feet away from me and held out a single Band-Aid.

I stared at it between his fingers. “How about something to clean up the blood?”

“Oh, for Pete's sake,” Randal said, sounding more annoyed than ever.

He moved toward me with sudden speed and grabbed my arm with surprising strength, lifting my wrist to his face. His head bent forward. A warm, wet trail followed his tongue along my cut. Now I really wanted to clean it. I tried to pull my arm away to go for the knife and prepare for the kill, but Randal's grip tightened.

He licked again.

And again.

But he wasn't swallowing.

My nose wrinkled in disgust as his saliva mixed with my blood.

I yanked my arm back. Randal smacked his lips, a hazy look in his eyes. He swallowed. A moment later, down he went—hitting the kitchen floor with a resounding
boom
.

I hadn't made a vampire convulse in ages. The sight, which had horrified me in the past, gave me sick satisfaction when Randal began to twitch. A second later, the sensation passed. I'd killed way worse vampires than Randal.

I grabbed the knife, avoiding eye contact as I crouched beside his shaking body. Hand on his chest, I pressed down and felt for his heartbeat. Once located, I let my fingers linger over his racing heart. Time to do the deed. I positioned the tip of the blade over the area of his heart as I'd done above my vein.

My hand shook.

I didn't like Randal, but I didn't hate him, either. As far as I knew he'd never killed before.

The knife shivered between my fingers. Randal and I were both shaking.

A car horn shrieked from outside.

Really? That was just like Melcher and Jared to signal me to hurry up and kill all ready.

I grabbed my quivering wrist with my free hand to steady myself. In this manner, I plunged the knife in.

Randal gasped. When he did, the shaking abruptly stopped. He rose several inches off the floor as though curling into his abdomen. The small checkered boxes on Randal's shirt filled with blood.

I got to my feet and backed away, leaving the knife in his heart. Randal clutched the area below the knife, his breaths turning to rasps.

Instant death was a luxury. Most people fought it—like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to run away from the inevitable.

I gripped the counter in front of the kitchen sink and leaned forward, sure I was going to hurl into the steel basin. Instead, I dry heaved a couple times. Once finished, I squirted liquid dish soap into my hands—way too much—and spent the next couple minutes drowning out Randal's gasps, trying to rinse and rub off the thick, slimy goo.

By the time I shut off the water, Randal was silent.

I dried my hands on my pants.

Call Fane
, I thought. And tell him what? To bust in on Melcher and Jared single-handed? I might as well tell him to jump off a building. Either one of those actions would result in a broken neck. No, I couldn't lose Fane, and I needed Jared to get Dante back. Because Jared was right. He was my best bet if I ever wanted to see Dante alive again.

8

Once I gave Melcher and Jared the signal, they entered the house without removing their shoes. I went ahead and slipped mine on. Randal wouldn't mind.

Jared walked straight up to Randal and glanced down. “You want me to call in the cleaners now or after we talk to the beauty queen?”

Melcher looked around the dining area, slight frown on his face before taking note of Randal's body on the kitchen floor. “Call it in,” he said. “I'd prefer they get him out of here before Miss Ericson returns.”

“Could help motivate her,” Jared said. He pulled his cell phone out, typed quickly and returned it to his blazer pocket.

“We have all the motivation she needs right here,” Melcher said, removing a large manila envelope from inside his coat. His footsteps creaked over the wood floor as he walked over to Jared and handed him the envelope. “You'll go over this with Miss Ericson.”

“What's inside the envelope?” I asked. “A contract?”

Sign your life away right here next to the X. Yeah, sure. I hadn't been offered that opportunity. My mom's hands had been tied. I would have died without her signature.

What did Melcher have to hold over Selene's head?

I didn't have to wait long to find out. The cleaners arrived within ten minutes of Jared's call, entering the house in their biohazard gear.

“Do you keep them on standby or something?” I asked.

Neither Melcher nor Jared answered. While the cleaners removed the body, they performed a quick search of the house, including the kitchen.

“Blood bags,” Jared announced, opening and closing the fridge.

“That's better than a dead body, right?” I asked.

Again, no answer.

I sucked in an exasperated breath and released it slowly. Calming breaths, sure. The company and environment didn't exactly lend themselves to a Zen moment.

Randal's blood had stained the front of his clothes and not the linoleum floor, which made the cleaners' job extra quick. As far as kills went, it was clean.

A cell phone rang. Melcher reached inside his suit pocket and answered it. “Very good,” he said before ending the call. He looked at Jared. “She's on her way.”

My heart picked up speed. Why did recruitment feel so similar to a kill?

Melcher went over the plan briefly. He and Jared would stand out of sight. Seeing me inside her house would be enough to startle Selene, but Melcher didn't want to put her into an all-out panic. At least not at first.

“What if I wait for her outside?” I asked. “That would be even less startling.”

“And give you an opportunity to run or warn her off,” Jared said. “Keep dreaming.”

I rolled my eyes. “You have trust issues.”

Jared's forehead wrinkled as he zeroed in on me. “Need I remind you of Giselle?”

I pressed my lips together.

“Didn't think so.”

As unpleasant as it was biding time with Jared and Melcher, all too soon “she's on her way” turned into “she's here.”

A car rumbled into the driveway, followed by silence. Twenty long seconds passed before the
jingle
of keys could be heard at the front door. The dead bolt snapped free, and the door swung open. A light flicked on.

Light spilled out from the mud room. With baited breath, I waited for Selene to enter the kitchen and see me to the left in the dining room. The sound of wood creaking was quickly followed by the plop of one shoe, then another.

The biggest one was yet to drop.

Selene entered the kitchen, turning her back to me as she set her purse on the counter.

Panic rushed through me. Home invasion. Murder. Jared was right. I did want to warn Selene. But I wouldn't. At least she got a chance to live.

My fingers balled into fists. “Hi, Selene,” I said, relaxing them.

Selene whipped around, a hand over her heart. “Aurora! You startled me. What are you doing here?”

Selene's brown hair hung loose around her shoulders. She had on a red sweater with a silk scarf fluffed around her neck.

“Did Randal let you in?” she asked when I didn't answer her immediate question.

“He did,” I said.

Selene lifted her chin. “Where is he now? His office?” She started walking through the kitchen. Jared appeared from around the corner, blocking her way. Selene screamed.

I moved to block the way back to the mud room.

“Randal is dead,” Jared said, taking a step toward Selene.

Her eye's widened. She scrambled back into the kitchen, eyes darting side to side. Selene turned toward the stovetop and snatched a frying pan resting on top of a burner.

“Stay back!” she cried when Jared advanced on her. He stopped and lifted his brows almost in challenge. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” she demanded.

Melcher stood up from where he'd been sitting in the living room. He circled around the room divider, going through the dining room to take his position near me.

“Aurora,” he said, keeping his eyes on Selene. “Why don't you tell Miss Ericson why we're here?”

I swallowed and stepped forward. “This is Agent Melcher and Jared. They belong to a special division of the government, and they want to recruit you.”

Selene lowered the pan a fraction. She looked directly at me. “What do you mean, recruit me?”

“They want you to become an informant for their agency.”

“What kind of informant?” Selene asked sounding scared and confused.

Melcher cleared his throat. “Our agency is tasked with protecting mankind against the demonic beings who feed on the innocent. We are committed to an ongoing battle with terror, Miss Ericson. It will be your duty to keep your eyes and ears open and report back to me.”

“Aurora? What is he talking about?”

“The agency hunts down killer vampires,” I said. My lips pursed. The irony wasn't lost on me that I was playing Crist's role of clarifying Melcher's ramblings.

Selene's eyes expanded. “You're vampire hunters.”

“Melcher runs the agency, and Jared is a recruiter,” I said. “They want to bring you in as an undercover informant to keep an eye on Alaska's undead.”

“You mean spy on my friends?” Selene asked.

Melcher took a step toward her and stopped. “I'm sure you've seen and heard enough in your lifetime to know the undead can be dangerous when they go unchecked. It is our duty to maintain peace and order for humanity. You can help us.”

Selene lowered the pan, holding it limply at her side. “But I've never hurt anyone in my life,” she said.

Melcher straightened his back. “We are aware of that, which is why we are making you this offer rather than locking you up.”

“But you want me to give you information that could get my kind killed?”

“Only the ones who deserve it,” Melcher said. “Ruthless killers. What about their victims? Should vampires be allowed to end lives without consequences for all eternity?” Melcher's forehead wrinkled.

Selene looked at me. “How long have you been part of this?”

“I was recruited ten months ago,” I said.

Both Selene's eyebrows shot up. “You're a vampire, too?”

My heart summersaulted. Melcher and Jared stared at me. The air stilled.

“No,” I said. With that one word, Melcher and Jared visibly relaxed. Their shoulders, which had lifted, sunk back down below their ears. “I'm a vampire hunter.”

Selene's eyes widened. She leaned back. “So your blood is… poisoned?”

“You know about that?” Melcher asked, his head lifting in interest. “I see we already have a lot to discuss.”

“What happens if I refuse?” Selene demanded.

“You've been damned,” Melcher said, lowering his head. “And there is only one way to atone for what you are. You must stop others like yourself. Lives are at stake, Miss Ericson, including your family's.”

The pan slipped from Selene's fingers and clattered to the floor. My heart gave a startled leap into my throat.

“What have you done to my family?” Selene demanded.

“Your family is safe, and they will stay safe so long as you obey me.” Melcher turned. His voice rose. “Jared.”

Jared entered the kitchen with heavy footsteps. Selene took a step back as he walked up to her. Once at her side, Jared pulled a stack of photos from the manila envelope. He set the first one on top of the kitchen counter. Selene leaned forward, the color draining from her face.

“Here's your father playing dominos with his friend, Ralph, the retired optometrist, in Valley Home's courtyard,” Jared announced.

He slapped the next photo down.

“Here's your sister coming out of church with your mother.” Jared began dropping photos faster. “Your sister walking a rat or maybe a dog, I can't quite tell.” He leaned forward. “And here's your brother eating his morning sausage and eggs at the Country Skillet, though judging from his waistline he might want to rethink his diet.”

Selene turned away from the counter abruptly. Tears gathered in her eyes when she looked at me. “Did you know about this?”

I couldn't speak. All I could do is shake my head.

Jared gathered the photos, hitting the edges on the counter as he lined them up before stuffing the stack inside the envelope. He set it on the counter and leaned back, eyes on Selene.

“Don't cry, Geisha. This is your lucky day. Agent Melcher over there is offering you an opportunity to make a living, a chance to be independent.”

Independent. Ha. Was that what they called a life of servitude?

“No more hiding. No more holing up.” Jared's eyes flicked around the kitchen. “You could do a lot better than this.”

Selene must have made a decent impression on Jared. He could call her a lot worse things than a geisha.

Selene folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Where am I supposed to live? You killed my partner.”

“Your housing will be provided for you,” Melcher said.

Selene's lips puckered. She lifted one hand to her face and twirled thick strands of hair around her finger rapidly as though winding up a toy. “What kind of allowance can I expect to receive?”

Jared smirked.

“More than enough to keep you comfortable,” Melcher answered.

Selene pulled her finger away. The strand she'd twisted unraveled into a loose wavy curl. “And all I have to do is spy? Nothing messy?”

“You will need to know how to kill if necessary,” Melcher said. “You will either be trained on base or sent to boot camp.”

Selene's lower lip folded over. “I'm afraid that's out of the question. I simply cannot suffer through something so physically grueling.”

Poor Selene. I wouldn't wish my life on anyone. She was a socialite, not a serial killer.

Melcher's eyes narrowed slightly. “That is for me to decide.”

Jared pushed himself away from the counter. “I'm sure onsite training will be more than enough for our lovely geisha. No sense sticking her in with the new recruits. I'm sure she can hold her own out in the field.”

Melcher looked at Selene with both eyebrows raised. “Then we can count on your full cooperation, Miss Ericson?”

Selene frowned. “You leave me no other choice, and you know it.”

“Then it's settled,” Melcher said. He clapped his hands together then dropped his arms and headed to the mud room. “You will accompany us on base where we will go over the terms of your contract.”

I looked at Jared, who inclined his head in Melcher's direction. My eyes slid over to Selene, who fiddled with the scarf around her neck. I wanted to explain things to her. I wanted to express my deepest regret for getting her involved in all of this, no matter how little control I had over the situation.

“Selene,” I said in a whisper. “I swear to you, I had no idea about any of this until today.”

Selene made no eye contact. She stared at the manila envelope on the counter.