Inquisitor (Witch & Wolf Book 1) (31 page)

Six vehicles were parked at old man Mike’s gas station. I lowered myself to my belly and wiggled my way closer. A group of humans clustered around Anderson’s poor excuse of an SUV.

Eight people circled around Anderson in the same hunting form of a pack prepared to take down their prey. My hackles went up, but I didn’t snarl. I didn’t dare reveal my presence.

Not until it was time for me to strike or flee.

“You weren’t assigned out here, Mr. Anderson. What are you doing? Why are you here?” a masculine voice demanded.

“Business,” Anderson replied in his most neutral tone.

“And what sort of business would that be?” a sickeningly familiar voice asked.

I froze at my recognition of the speaker. Markus Dupree.

Anderson turned in a slow circle, confident as always, even without his designer business suit to make him look the part of a powerful, rich CEO. “And what business did you have taking out headquarters employees? Who assigned
you
there?”

My blood turned to ice in my veins. What was Anderson talking about? Headquarters employees? Only Samantha had been killed at Marrodin. My eyes widened. Had Mark truly killed Samantha?

I knew he’d been there when she had died, but I hadn’t believed he had been responsible. I hadn’t wanted to believe it.

Mark signed, crossing his arms over his chest before leaning against the door of Anderson’s SUV. “She was a carrier, Mr. Anderson. She was going to die anyway. I saved her a lot of pain and suffering.”

The answering snort was full of disgust. “You could have saved her.”

“I trust you are aware of what she was?”

“She was a witch,” Anderson replied.

“We don’t save rogue witches, Mr. Anderson. We kill them.” Mark shook his head. “There’s sufficient evidence proving your employee had been the one to kill Allison Ferdinan. She was the last person to see Allison alive.”

The silence stretched between the gathered humans. I stalked forward, hiding among the bushes near the store. Within, my wolf raged.

Anderson
was a part of the Inquisition? I wanted to howl my fury, calling for the other wolves to join me in the hunt. The need for blood burned in me. My thoughts circled, as Inquisitors circled Anderson.

Mark had killed Samantha.

He had murdered my pack sister. I bared my fangs, but I remained silent.

“You have no proof of that,” Anderson replied at last, hopping onto the hood of one of the cars parked near his SUV. “As for business, Marrodin is looking to buy up land. I was ordered to handle the acquisition. Where Ms. Hanover orders me to go, I go.”

“Why?” Mark sounded surprised.

Amusement lightened Anderson’s voice. “This time, I’ve been tasked to create a home and education center for orphaned children. Something nice, not one of those run-down boarding shacks the state uses. It’ll also serve as a summer camp and school for children of Marrodin employees who can’t afford such things on their own. As a final function, it’ll serve as a boarding school for company employees who travel often.”

“How philanthropic,” a woman muttered.

My rage boiled within me. While the Wicked Witch of the West had sounded older at the Plaza, there was no mistaking her condescending tone. My wolf wanted nothing more than to lunge forward, seize the lanky woman’s neck in her teeth, and shake the life out of her.

The human side of me struggled to find a single reason not to stalk forward and kill them all.

“Ah, Ms. Livingston. You finally decided to speak up. Was it you, then, who set your dog to hunt in my turf?” Anderson banged his heels against the car. “As for Ms. Hanover, she is like that. Does good things for people when groups like ours go and screw up lives.”

“We work for the better of all people,” Mrs. Livingston snapped.

Anderson’s laugh had a hard, bitter edge to it. “By bombing a funeral?” His scorn added an acrid scent to the air. I sniffed.

I smelled fear, but it wasn’t Anderson’s. Which Inquisitor the scent belonged to, however, I wasn’t certain. I recognized the hot stench of anger, and realized it came from me.

“By bombing a funeral,” the Wicked Witch of the West confirmed. “It was an approved order. Accept it, Mr. Anderson. An approved order from the Shadow Pope. The plague is spreading, and it was the easiest way to ensure we killed as many carriers as possible.”

I wiggled closer to the cars, keeping my belly pressed to the ground.

“An approved order from the Shadow Pope?” There was surprise and concern in Anderson’s voice. “When they could have been saved?”

Mrs. Livingston sighed. “Not all of them could have been saved.”

“Some is better than none.” Anderson slid off of the car while shaking his head.

“They are not our objective, and you know it,” the Wicked Witch of the West matched Anderson glare for glare. “Since you’re here anyway, you can help us hunt wolves.”

“I’m expected back in Atlanta tomorrow, and it is a long drive.”

Mrs. Livingston took a step closer to Anderson, straightening to meet the young CEO’s eyes. “Change your plans.”

To my surprise, Anderson stood his ground, tilting his head as he regarded the old witch. “I’m not a witch like you, a shaman like your son, or a wolf like James. What do you expect me to do?”

“You can be the bait for all I care,” the Wicked Witch of the West replied.

“Are you saying you’re going to kill me next?” Anderson shoved his hands in his pockets, still standing firm.

“You’re a liability to our case, as far as I’m concerned, Mr. Anderson. Maybe you can be rehabilitated, if you survive. Perhaps not.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t decide that, Mrs. Livingston. Or are you trying to say
you’re
the Shadow Pope?” Anderson stepped forward, glaring into the Wicked Witch of the West’s eyes.

To my surprise, the woman retreated, shaking her head.

“Tell me why you hunt these wolves,” Anderson ordered.

I tensed, worming my way a little closer. A flash of lightning heralded the rumble of thunder. A cold rain fell.

Behind the clouds, I was aware of the full moon rising. I listened to its call.

It was time to hunt as I had been hunted.

~*~

With
out a pack to support me, my only hope for a kill was ambushing the humans, taking them by surprise. My target was easy to pick. The Wicked Witch of the West was my greatest threat. The woman’s back faced me. While she wore a coat, it didn’t cover the soft, delicate flesh of her throat.

I needed to be fast, hitting true, so I could score a clean kill. Taking her down before she could react was how I’d live long enough to escape. Once free of the gathered humans, I would wait for another chance to hunt the Inquisitors.

Kill or be killed. There was no mercy in nature, nor was there justice. I bared my fangs. Neither my human nor my wolf were in the mood to offer mercy
or
justice.

All we wanted was revenge and blood.

“You’re targeting Marrodin because you can’t get the shares to buy a place on the board, aren’t you?” Anderson asked, his tone deepening from anger.

I stalked closer, hiding in the shadows of the building.

“People will start selling soon enough.”

Anderson surprised me by laughing. “They won’t. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, Mrs. Livingston.”

“What do you mean by that?” The Wicked Witch of the West trembled with rage, stepping forward into my path.

I surged from my hiding place, charging across the pavement. Without breaking stride, I lunged for the woman’s throat. My teeth closed on flesh and bone, but my fangs didn’t pierce her skin.

The Wicked Witch of the West shrieked.

Fury fueled me. My wolf and I snarled together. I felt the invisible barrier around the witch’s flesh pulse in the woman’s effort to push me away. With a snarl, I bit through her protections.

Blood gushed into my mouth, hot and sweet. Clamping down with all of my strength, I brought my hind paws forward, raking my claws down her back.

We went down together in a heap. She let out a gurgling cry. Another gush of blood poured down my throat. Without letting go of my prey, I shook myself as hard as I could, whipping my head side to side.

Bones snapped.

The witch’s body jerked in my grip before falling still. I growled over the body.

A tingle spread from my mouth, went down my throat, and settled in my stomach. Something tainted the woman’s blood, turning it bitter on my tongue. Revitalizing energy surged through me.

My wolf rejoiced. Releasing the corpse, I lifted my bloodied head high, howling my triumph to the stormy sky. The rain, as though chilled by my exuberance, froze. It shifted to snow, melting as it touched my fur and the ground.

The eight still-living humans scrambled to get away from me.

One took two steps before stopping, turning, and standing firm. I answered Anderson’s bravery with a snarl, crouching over my prey. The wolf recognized the man before me but didn’t care.

With a start, I realized the human part of me didn’t care anymore either.

All of them were responsible for the death of my pack sister. All of them were Inquisitors.

I took their mantle, and with a snapping of my teeth, swore an Inquisition on them all. I, too, would become an Inquisitor.

But this time, I would hunt for my pleasure and my revenge. Not on the orders of the Inquisition.

“Dear god,” Anderson whispered.

“Get away from it, you bloody idiot!”

I snapped my head in the direction of the British voice. A snarl built in my throat, emerging as a single, staccato bark.

James, the werewolf.

A werewolf Inquisitor. Another betrayer of pack and kin. My wolf quieted, considering the threat. I calculated the distance between us.

James backed away, hands held out in front of him. I followed, teeth bared, although I remained silent. I brushed past Anderson, and he jerked away from me.

Then his arms wrapped around my neck in a firm, but gentle hold. I voiced a growl, cocking an ear in his direction.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” James choked out.

Snow danced in the air, the thick flakes obscuring my view of the other werewolf.

“Run, you idiot,” Anderson hissed in my ear. His breath was warm. “Bite me like you mean it, and run.”

I twisted around. Like the Wicked Witch of the West, Anderson’s clothes didn’t protect his throat. I snapped my teeth, twisting my head at the last moment to bury my fangs into his upper arm instead. I clamped down until I felt the bone between my jaws.

His scream wasn’t faked. I shook my head once, tearing his flesh so his scars would remind him forever of his treachery.

Then I let him go and ran for the woods.

~*~

I didn’t run far before I circled around the store. The snow fell harder, sticking to the wet ground and burying my tracks. The cold numbed the burning itch in my nose. I paused long enough to bite at one of the irritating patches on my flank. My fur froze and matted where the Wicked Witch of the West’s blood had splattered on me.

Slipping into the shadows, I observed the humans gathering over the witch’s corpse. I danced in place, the thin blanket of snow squeaking beneath my paws.

“What do you bloody think you were doing?” James roared.

Anderson faced the Brit in the same way he had faced the Wicked Witch of the West: Unwavering and aloof. “Saving your life. A little thanks wouldn’t hurt, you ungrateful sod.”

“How in the hell did you get it to leave anyway, Mr. Anderson?” One of the other men stepped forward before crouching next to the witch’s body. “Dear god, it shredded your mother, Mark.”

“She wasn’t my mother,” Mark replied in a dull tone. My former friend shook his head. “That was a werewolf.”

James nodded his agreement. “A very old werewolf, at that.”

“How do you know?” Anderson asked. The men huddled around the corpse.

James stood over the others, pointing at the body. “You can’t just take out a witch with fangs alone. Witches aren’t defenseless. That’s why they’re wolf hunters. It takes an old, powerful werewolf to get through the defenses of a witch as skilled as that woman.”

Mark snorted. “Could you?”

“Not a chance in bloody hell, mate.”

I bared my fangs in a wolfish grin. The snow crunched beneath my paws as I once again crept towards the gathered humans. The largest threat was gone.

With eight left to go, my hunt had just begun. The wolf in me wanted Anderson saved for last. I couldn’t find a reason to disagree.

Anderson had stood up to a witch. He didn’t falter around a rival werewolf male. We’d save the human for last.

He’d make challenging prey. For a moment, I considered his potential as a mate. Would he prove a dominant as a werewolf? If he proved too submissive, I’d rid the world of him for his crimes.