Stalking the Others (18 page)

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Authors: Jess Haines

BOOK: Stalking the Others
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Chapter 25
It felt like a millennia before the clock read 5:50
PM
. Per the almanac I’d looked at online, sunset was technically in three minutes. My skin was
crawling
with sensation, but I was going so crazy, I wasn’t sure if it was all in my head or not.
I’d been alternately pacing the cell, chewing on my nails when I wasn’t nervously nibbling at the candy I’d packed in my bag, and curled up in a ball on the floor. Sitting was worse. Nothing but rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around my legs to hold my shivering frame together so I wouldn’t fall apart into a million pieces. The wait was killing me.
Would I turn as soon as the sun set? The almanac said the moon had risen earlier in the day, so it was already somewhere above me, high in the sky. Every time I’d seen Chaz or one of the other wolves turn, it was always right after nightfall. Did it have something to do with the position of the moon, or the position of the sun?
Too many questions. I’d been thinking about these things, along with what Chaz had said, for hours. I was no closer to figuring out what was going to happen to me than I’d been when I started out on my hunt at the beginning of the month. Now that I was on the verge of knowing, despite that the hours had been crawling by like days until only minutes ago, all I wanted was more time.
I was back to pacing, occasionally kicking aside empty candy bar wrappers, my eyes closed. Hours ago, I had memorized the number of steps I could take, one end of the thing to the other. Five paces to one side. Turn around. Five more paces. Turn. Rinse. Repeat. All the while rubbing my hands up and down my arms to ward off the sensation of the hairs on my body rising like the place was full of static electricity.
The nosebleed had trickled off some time back, but the fever had worsened, and my nose and sinuses remained stuffed. I’d thought ahead and packed a handkerchief and a box of tissues, but they were long since used up. As if thinking about it summoned the blood again, more wet warmth seeped over my lips and chin. Damn it. I ran a hand under my nose and glanced at it, frowning at the dark color of the liquid on my knuckle. Black, not red.
A sudden, shooting pain pierced my temples, and I fell to a knee, clutching my head. The dribble of blood became a flood, and I coughed and gagged as some of it went down my throat. The lower half of my face felt covered, turning tacky and hot to the touch. There was so much that it was dripping onto my shirt faster than I could wipe it away. Violent shivers wracked me.
My eyes started burning and watering. When I touched the corner of my eye, it took a second for me to focus, but I choked out a curse when I saw that fluid was black, too.
I’d never seen any werewolves bleed when they shifted. Or exhibit symptoms like this. Was it because this was my first time shifting? The pain was tolerable in comparison to what I’d had to deal with after the fight with Chaz, but it was still hard to breathe, and whatever that black stuff was scared me.
I stayed that way for what felt like forever, but nothing else happened. Other than a few excruciating coughs, my eyes stinging like a mother, and a lot more blood, my body stayed the same.
By the time I blinked the black crud out of my eyes, the clock read 6:40
PM
. My hands were still white and pale, the nails blunt and showing signs of having been bitten to the quick during some of my more nervous moments.
I hadn’t changed.
Holy shit.
I sat back on my butt, stunned, too shocked to process it right away.
Nothing had happened. No fur, no claws, no nothing.
Holy. Shit.
Laughter bubbled up from somewhere in my chest. I laughed until the tears came—real tears, not more of that black goop—and sat there, head in my hands, coming to grips with the sudden release of all that tension and terror that had held me in a choke hold until now.
Once the hysterical laughter eased off, and it didn’t hurt quite so much to breathe anymore, I took better stock of how I was doing. Though I still felt hot, and I’m sure I looked like some zombie horror-movie extra with all of that gunk on my face and shirt, it was clear nothing else was going to happen.
Well. That was a relief.
I scrubbed my eyes with my palms and then used my shirt to wipe off the worst of the crud on my face. I couldn’t stay down here like this—covered in filth and blood—and I wanted out of the cage,
now
. With a huge sigh and a groan, I levered to my feet, gripping one of the bars to steady myself.
An uncomfortable pins-and-needles sensation worked its way from my fingertips all the way up to my elbow.
That was something I didn’t want to think about too closely.
Collecting my things and trash, I tucked them into the bag I’d brought with me and then flipped the latches on the locks, walking out of the cage, not looking back. Funny, I felt more clear-headed than I had in a long while—and my sweet tooth, finally assuaged, had earned me one hell of a stomachache. Painful, but it was far more bearable than becoming a furry beast hunting for fresh meat and howling at the moon.
This development brought a lot of my actions this month into a much darker light than I’d considered at the time I was carrying them out. I’d never taken into account that Dillon might not have illegally turned me. Nor had I ever considered that Chaz and the other Sunstrikers might not have been the ones infecting unwilling, uncontracted people and committing murder to hush up any witnesses. I’d assumed that the Sunstrikers had been the ones who were killing all of those people mentioned in Jim Pradiz’s article. Maybe—just maybe—Chaz had told the truth, that the Ravenwoods were the ones who were doing all of the killing.
I’d believed the worst of everyone since this mess had started. At this point, even if the Ravenwoods really were behind it all, I wasn’t sure it mattered.
As hard as it was to consider, I owed Chaz an apology. There really was no reason I should have flown off the handle like I had. Something dark and vicious had opened inside me along with the fear of being turned Other. That I would even think about killing Vic and the other Sunstrikers without having solid proof of their involvement was so unlike me, I couldn’t figure it out. Where the hell had all of that hunger for violence come from?
Dillon, now. I wasn’t sorry for what I had done to him. But with the worry of what I was becoming now moot, reflection on my actions was showing a much uglier picture than I was prepared to deal with.
I took the stairs slowly, my head aching and my heart heavy with the realization that I’d made some incredibly stupid mistakes while under the pressure of thinking I was no longer human. That didn’t put me above the law, or make me the one responsible for seeking revenge for Jim Pradiz or the other victims. I’d made that assumption even though I knew there was a chance I wasn’t going to be changing. Why had I done something so reckless and stupid?
Luckily, I didn’t see anyone on my way up the stairs. When I stepped into the hallway on Jack’s floor, some guys passed me. They didn’t say anything right away, but I heard a quiet
what the fuck
as I dug in my bag for the keys. Hopefully, they’d think I was dressing up for an early Halloween party or something.
I was glad they weren’t sticking around to see if I needed help.
The apartment was empty. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, but it still worried me that Jack had chosen to go with them instead of sitting the fight out.
I wondered if my hunting gear would still be waiting for me where I’d left it, tucked in a drawer in the room where Chaz had helped me dress. I’d put it out of sight of the other hunters, but someone could still have taken it while I was downstairs to use during the fight against the Ravenwoods.
The only piece of gear I’d taken with me was the belt. It had as good as told me that I could use it to end my own life if I turned. Pausing with my hand on the knob, I had to fight down a touch of sickness at the thought.
I felt palpable relief on seeing the neatly folded armor in the drawer next to my last vial of Amber Kiss. Another worry put to rest. Nobody had found my things.
I set down my bag, pulling it open so I could touch the belt. Now that night had fallen, it was alive. Or, well, as alive as an inanimate object could be. I ran a finger along the edge of the leather. It was exuding impatience to be used and no small measure of surprise at my touch.
“Don’t worry, Isaac. Soon.”
I had to get ready first. With a grim smile, I rose, taking the armor and perfume with me.
It didn’t take me long to handle the basics. I washed my face, hands, and chest—seriously, I was straight out of a Halloween nightmare—and tossed my clothes in the trash. They were beyond saving.
Next came the Amber Kiss perfume. I hadn’t used it much lately as I hadn’t felt the need for stealth. I dabbed a few drops on all of my pulse points. Neck, throat, even a little on my inner thighs. Couldn’t hurt. The stuff was supposed to hide my scent from Others and help suppress their appetites. It might be the edge I needed to help me get inside enemy lines undetected.
Getting the armor on was a bit more difficult than usual. Painful, but nothing I couldn’t handle. A few curse- and grunt-filled minutes later, I was dressed. Knotting my hair in a bun to keep it out of my face and then tugging on my combat boots, I went to the makeshift armory Jack had set up next to his cot to see what weapons were left.
The pickings were slim in the weapons chests since everyone had stocked up for the fight tonight. All that was left were a few derringers and a couple of other bits and pieces. Lord knew what the hunters were doing with pansy guns like that. All the Desert Eagles, Colts, and Glocks were gone. So were the rifles. My guns were gone too, though the custom chest holster was still hanging where I’d left it when Jack had instructed me to store my weapons here.
The only suitable weapon I could find was a Smith & Wesson 500. The revolver was large for my hand, but it would leave a hole big enough to drive a truck through. As much as I didn’t want to use them, I took one of the derringers, too. Better to have two guns than none, I figured.
There wasn’t much ammo left, either. I scrounged what I could, but it looked like most of my fighting was going to have to be done up close and personal. Five bullets for the derringer and three for the S&W. That didn’t leave much room for error, and neither weapon was going to do me much good against something as tough as a vampire unless I was close enough that there was no chance I would miss.
The derringers would probably just piss the vamps off. They were more of a last ditch weapon. And there weren’t enough bullets for the S&W that I could rely on using it as a primary weapon.
Well. That should make the belt happy.
There was a small silver-edged boot knife that might come in handy, so I took that as well. Tucking the guns into the holsters and grabbing a small clip-on to keep the ammo in, I headed back upstairs to fetch the belt.
One thing I vowed as I made my way up the stairs was that I was not going to be responsible for any more deaths. I would save Sara, yes, and I would probably hurt some of the vampires very badly in the process, but I wasn’t going in there to kill anyone. Not even Royce. No matter how badly the belt wanted me to hunt vampires, this was a rescue mission—that was all.
And after tonight, I was done with the Others. Done with hunting. I’d turn myself in to the cops and come clean about everything.
It was entirely possible I would face prison—or death, if the murderer survived tonight’s battle and continued carrying out their mission to eliminate people attacked by Weres—but it would also mean my family and Sara would be safe. No more running. No more Lone Rangering my way through the mess my life had become.
I reached the landing, feeling pounds lighter than I had for a long time. The heavy load of guilt was a lot lighter when you decided to take responsibility for your actions.
The energy of the belt was so pronounced, I could feel it all the way from the doorway. With that in mind, I pulled the length of leather out of my bag and settled it around my waist. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have said it was vibrating with anticipation.
‘
About time
,’ it said, anger radiating from the thing. Mental fingers worked through my thoughts, taking stock of the weapons I’d armed myself with and getting a feel for how it would need to compensate for my injuries. ‘
Are you ready to kill that vampire or what?
’
I took a deep breath, paying no mind to the twinge in my ribs, steeling myself against the inevitable outrage.
“No. No more death. Tonight or ever again.” There was a long silence.
‘
I see. Time to change that
.’
There wasn’t enough time for me to start saying “What?” before something... was different.
‘
Let’s try this again. Are you ready to kill the vampire?
’
I lifted a hand to my temple, feeling an echo of pressure there. Felt like I was developing a headache. And maybe was forgetting something? “I ... I think so. Do I have enough weapons?”

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