The Hunted (45 page)

He waved a hand at me in dismissal. ‘I’m waiting …’

I sneered at him. ‘Okay then wise guy, what’s your big plan? Leave poor little Elena in the car like a useless damsel in distress and then run off to fight the big bad wolf all on your own?’

He didn’t answer, just glared at me.

‘Oh, good plan,’ I muttered as I shook my head. ‘Then what happens? You kill the wolf, come back to the car victorious, gush about how you brought him down with your super strength and sharp teeth and then expect me to swoon and bat my eyelids at you? Sorry Prince Charming, you’ve got the wrong century.’

A howl exploded from the rooftop above us and I spun around. The Vânâtor dashed across the edge of the roof, leaping through the air and landed with a light
thud
in the middle of the alley a few metres away from us.

I gripped the knife tighter in my hands and stretched out the muscles on either side of my neck, waiting for the
crack
I knew would ease the tension I was feeling.

This werewolf was bigger than any of the other wolves I had ever seen. He was closer to the size of a large lion than of a wolf. His fur was long, dark grey, and matted, but his teeth were just as pointed and sharp as any other vânâtor. His eyes were black as pitch—a similar darkening I’d seen in the eyes of William, earlier that day. Its dark eyes made it difficult to differentiate just exactly who the wolf was looking at until his head was turned and pointed in your direction.

I turned and looked at William standing beside me. He was transformed. The change had been instantaneous and because I’d been distracted, I had missed it. He had removed his shirt and tossed it onto the roof of the car. As a human he’d be well-muscled and pleasing to the eye but in his Vampiric form there was no denying that I could not take my eyes off him. William’s skin was as pale as the snow, verging on transparent. Blue, blood-filled cords entwined their way around his muscles, encircling his entire body, including his face, the veins eerily visible just beneath the surface of his flesh. His fingernails had grown and were now long stiff talons, as black as the very depths of his eyes. His canines were drawn, like sharp white knives that brushed against his lower lip. He was the Devil Incarnate, but he was beautiful, even as more monster than man.

The Vânâtor took a step forward and William echoed that step, shooting his arm out to catch me in the chest, pushing me back hard against the car.

Who did he think he was?

He quickly looked at me with his dark eyes. I could see no inference of words or meaning behind them. They were empty, like big lumps of coal embedded behind his lids. I still had a feeling that he was going to slog me if I thought about moving a muscle.

He really doesn’t know me at all.

I tried to move back beside him, but he hissed at me and pushed me back against the car with more force than before. I winced.

What an ass.

The Vânâtor, taking advantage of a distracted William, leapt forward into the air.

William was faster.

He let go of me and leapt forward, a blur that hit the wolf straight in the chest, sending it flying backwards through the air and hitting the brick wall at the far end of the alley. The landing was clumsy and the wolf crashed heavily into the metal waste cans. William landed lightly on his feet, immediately ducking into a defensive crouch. He held his claws out next to him, his teeth bared. A hiss escaped from his lips, louder than a steam engine.

The Vânâtor quickly flipped himself back up onto all fours, tipping one of the trash cans over and spilling rubbish into the alleyway. The clatter of a glass bottle rolling across the concrete floor was the only sound for almost a minute, slightly musical and ending with the crescendo of a
ping
as it touched the brick work. The werewolf kept looking at William for the entire performance without moving, his muzzle drawn back, revealing every single sharp tooth in his arsenal.

A gurgle escaped from the back of his throat, erupting into a howl of warning. It was shortly followed by a secondary howl coming from another wolf somewhere in the nearby vicinity.

The alpha looked to me. There was an unexplainable emptiness in the darkness that stared right back at me, absorbing every detail and no doubt memorising my scent with ardent determination.

I gripped the knife tighter and held it ready and waiting at my side.

William stalked back towards it, the wolf glancing back to its primary target. Another hiss exploded from William’s throat before launching himself through the air again, moving so quickly that I had to quickly double-check.

The Vânâtor immediately jumped up onto the waste bins and jumped back onto the roof of the tobacconist shop, disappearing from sight. They were both moving too quickly, but William must have chased after him because I was standing alone in the empty alleyway again. I could hear their scuffle on the rooftops above and I could still smell the blood on the air, but that was it.

I glanced around the rest of the alley, looking for signs of life. I had heard another vânâtor howling just before. It had sounded close and I wasn’t prepared to drop my guard just yet.

I scanned the rooftops where the alpha and William had disappeared—still nothing. There was only the soft caress of the wind upon my face and the sound of a couple of passing cars in the next street over.

I padded forward slowly, occasionally spinning around on the spot and checking the areas behind and above me. I felt my chest burning with anxiety and it wasn’t from the fear surrounding me. I could only put it down to concern for William. Strange considering I’d been angry with him minutes ago.

A distressed howl sounded from somewhere far behind me. It was further away than before. It resonated clearly, tainted with pain, the howl turning into a faint whining sound and slowly into a whimper.

Must have come from the other vân
â
tor with The Protectors.

I took off in a quick jog, running past the car and down to the opposite end of the alley where I had seen Lucas leave earlier. An empty street loomed in front of me. No one in sight, not even a passing car.

I stopped for a moment, sniffed at the air and then followed my nose towards the scent of blood.

I ran down to the end of the deserted street, stopping only briefly to gain my bearings, turning right and heading down another street. The street consisted of a couple of restaurants and bars that appeared to be closed for business.

God, how far away were they?

And how far away can I scent blood?

I ran across the street, amazed that I had been running for a few minutes and still smelt the blood with the same unbelievable clarity that I had before. I approached the next corner and then stopped again. The blood was definitely getting stronger now.

At the T-intersection I took a left. In the distance I could see a bus stop and a small crowd of people gathered around something lying in the centre of the street. It was The Protectors—the huddled mass in the middle would have to have been the secondary vânâtor.

I took a step forward and then halted immediately when a fury grey mess stepped out from a side street to my left and padded in front of me. I raised my knife in warning, calming myself. I prayed that the beast could not hear, smell, or sense my fear.

I shook my head and took another few steps back, only to have it mirrored by the alpha. I shouldn’t be afraid. I could do this. I’d been training for four years so I could kick vânâtor butt. Just because this one was a little bit—okay, a lot bigger than the other ones—did not mean that it was invulnerable.

Then it hit me.

If the alpha was here with me, then where was William? Was he hurt?

God, please, let him be okay.

My backwards footsteps brought me back around the street corner and down the street littered with the closed restaurants and bars. The huddled mass of Protectors, of safety, disappeared from view as I rounded the corner slowly.

The Vânâtor followed me, unrelenting in its pursuit. It made no sound or effort to attack. It simply followed me like a lost puppy.

‘What do you want?’ I asked. ‘If you’re going to eat me, then just do it already.’

The alpha did not answer me.

‘Can you talk in wolf form?’

He let out a small, choked barking sound from his throat.

Hmm, guess not.

‘I’m getting a little sick of all this backpedalling. If you’re going to attack me, then do it now before I turn you into a pin cushion.’ I held up my knife to make my point perfectly clear.

The Vânâtor barked something in return and shook its head from side to side. It pulled its muzzle back tighter across its teeth. It looked like it was smiling—either that or it was preparing to chow down on me at any second. I didn’t want to give it a chance. If the choice came, I’d kill first and ask questions later.

‘Stuff this for a joke,’ I said, stopping abruptly and taking a step forward. ‘I’m getting dizzy and I’m tired of walking backwards, so game on, wolf.’

I lunged forward, flicking my blade quickly in my fingers and slicing the blade across the alpha’s snout. His muzzle opened and then snapped shut with a deafening crack as he snapped at my quick moving hand. Blood from the wound dripped onto the pavement, and pooled in little red splotches of liquid crimson.

A gurgled growl of protest ripped out from between the wolf’s clenched teeth as he lunged forward, snapping at me again with his razor sharp teeth.

I ducked to the right as he tried to bite my knife wielding arm. He missed and another deafening crack echoed through the night air. His teeth crashed together like an iron vice. As I moved, I made another quick swipe at his neck line, but he was faster than me and had already moved out of the way.

He lunged at me again, this time keeping his head lowered, his eyes fixed on me, swiping his sharp claws at me. I ducked the first blow, a blow that would have taken my head from my shoulders, and stumbled backwards. I regained my footing and tried to flick another cut at his neck. I missed again.

He was fast, almost as fast as William.

He struck out with the same clawed paw, taking me by surprise and slashing the side of my face. The hit sent me sprawling backwards across the pavement in anguish, my left ankle twisting as I fell.

I cried out in pain, moisture automatically filling my eyes and blurring my vision. My hand went to the side of my face where blood was steadily pouring from the deep penetrating cuts his claws made against the delicate flesh of my cheek.

The Vânâtor sniffed, its attention drawn to my bloodied cheek and hands, its tongue suddenly running along it’s snout in one sweeping movement of pink flesh and warm drool. Repulsed, I pushed the pain to the side and wiped away the tears. I’d show George just how valuable I could truly be.

He came at me, his jaw now fully open, his teeth bared and ready for the kill.

I rolled backwards and kicked myself up to my feet. He hit me again, he was too fast, but this time I managed to lodge my knife in his shoulder blade before I fell to the ground. The howl that erupted from his throat ripped across the night air like an air raid siren. It was loud, ominous and wrought with pain.

Good.

I fell to the ground for the second time, my hands reaching out behind me and scraping savagely across the concrete pavement. I brought them back up to my face. Between my own blood, and the blood from his shoulder wound, my hands were a monochromatic canvas of arterial red.

My knife was wedged deep in its flesh. I could smell the fresh blood oozing from the gaping knife wound. I sensed that it was undoubtedly warm, thick and sweet even though it appeared to gush forth like a small fountain of ruby coloured wine. Despite the wound, he came at me again, like a bulldozer, barely unhindered. I had to give Fido points for persistence.