The Hunted (5 page)

I shook my head and willed myself to concentrate harder. No time for reminiscing or game playing. There were some big bad wolves just around the corner of this container and no hunky woodsman with an axe to chop them all up.

I stared at the metallic surface. The Vân
â
tors were still engrossed in their kill. I could quite easily see the both of them in the reflection of the knife.

I peered closer, my eyes narrowing slightly as I tried to make out just exactly what it was that their bodies were slumped so possessively over.

I clutched a hand to my mouth to prevent any sound from escaping and took another cursory glance at the image reflected in the blade. There was so much blood and torn flesh that it was almost impossible to decipher just exactly what the remains belonged to. I probably wouldn’t have recognised it as human at all if it hadn’t have been for the torn uniform, flash-light, and hat that was strewn across the ground to the left of the body. It was probably the night patrolman.

My instincts kicked in and I weighed up all of my options, assessing the situation from every angle and trying to work out the best approach.

From what I could tell by the way both of the wolves draped themselves across the carcass, one of them was higher up in the pack hierarchy than the other. The one on the left seemed to pick at the extremities as he fed, glancing back at the other one before he took another portion of flesh. The one on the right, however, draped his body across the carcass, claiming the bigger portion. The low growling in the back of his throat indicated that he didn’t appreciate the other wolf sharing his bounty. I wondered if that was going to work to my advantage.

I had learnt that the characteristics of vân
â
tors were not that much different to the rest of the animal kingdom: there was always someone a little higher up in the pack order than the other, although neither of these beasts looked like an Alpha or pack leader. An Alpha was larger than a standard vân
â
tor, and a whole lot meaner. I hadn’t exactly met an alpha before. My field experience was truly limited in that regard, but I was a solid reader, and the texts at the IMI pointed out a few discernible differences between an Alpha and the two wolves I was looking at.

For one, Alphas were rare. No one ever really saw them, but The Protectors that had, recorded that they were at least twice the size of a standard Vân
â
tor.

Two, they were supposedly slightly darker in colour—closer to black than grey. And three, they were really freaking hard to kill, hence why no one had done it yet. The two vân
â
tors that were with me now were definitely nothing special, but I still was shaking in my boots at the prospect of having to face them.

I doubted that the leader of the two would leave his kill until he had taken his fill. If they sensed danger, then I hoped he would send the other one to investigate. Separating them seemed to be the only chance I would have at avoiding the razor sharp teeth and long pointed claws.

I looked around my feet, searching for anything useful, like a rock or piece of broken concrete. There was nothing.

Damn.

Then I realised that I had my cell phone on me. I smiled lightly. This would do the trick just nicely.

I dug into my coat and fished around in the pockets until I found my phone. I kept the blade in my hand, just in case, and then quickly edged my way back around the container, in the direction that I had just come.

When I got to the end of the row, I used the blade’s reflection once again to check if the coast was clear and then darted across the opening, while sticking to the shadows and trying not to make too much noise. After all, their hearing was exceptionally good.

When I got to the very end of the row I turned left and dashed as quickly as I could down to the next passage. I stopped at the corner of another container and took a quick second to peer around the edge.

About seven shipping containers away I could just see the two vân
â
tors, and thankfully, it appeared that they were too engrossed to notice me, so I made a run for it while the going was good.

Once I’d cleared the opening, I leant back up against the rear of the next container and listened for any sounds of movement. There was nothing, just the same scent of blood in the air and the distant sound of snapping snouts and tearing flesh. I swallowed down another lump of rising bile.

Gross.

I took off at a run again, putting as much distance between me and the Vân
â
tors as I could.

When I got to the far end of one container, I grabbed my cell phone again and turned off the silent option, making sure that when it did ring that the tone would be very loud.

I sent a quick text message to Lucas.

— Lucas, found the targets. In 5 minutes I need you to ring me, don’t hang up until the phone goes to message-bank. Don’t bother trying to text me back either, just do as I say, okay? —

I sent the message. It seemed to take forever with my shaky fingers, but I managed to get it done, and then place the phone on the ground. I had roughly five minutes before that thing was going to go off like a siren, possibly less if Lucas decided to be an ass, ignored my instructions, and called me back straight away.

I took off in a run again, this time keeping to the rear of the containers so I could put a bit of speed into my step without drawing any attention.

Stopping at the corner of the passage that led directly to the Vân
â
tors again, I quickly peered around the corner. They were still quite clearly engrossed in their meal.

I darted across the opening while their snouts were buried into the flesh and then stopped short behind another container to try and steady my heartbeat again. The wind had died down a little bit; this was a good sign for me. Windy weather made hiding from creatures such as these difficult, as scent travelled easily on the air.

I took in another deep breath, shuddering slightly as the scent of warm blood danced across the night air, making my mouth water and my tummy rumble.

Shaking my head to dispel the sensation, I pushed off from the side of the container and headed back up the same path as earlier.

It didn’t take me long to get back to my earlier positioning. I clutched the blade in my hand more tightly, feeling the leather of the hilt becoming warm and soft in my palm.

I waited patiently, hoping that Lucas would just do as I asked instead of running in, spells blazing. Then again, if my plan didn’t work, it would be a godsend to have a little bit of magical backup. But of course that also meant I had to deal with the fallout from Susan and George once we’d finished kicking vân
â
tor butt. It was funny that the thought of taking on two bloodthirsty werewolves seemed to be less of a scary prospect than receiving a tongue lashing from the parentals.

Five minutes soon turned into what felt like an eternity. Small droplets of sweat were already forming across my top lip and forehead as I waited. I was quietly shuffling from foot to foot, doing an imitation of the ‘pee dance’ because my nerves would not keep me still and my skin was crawling with anticipation. I was ready for action, but at the same time I was
so
ready to throw up.

I checked the mirrored image again. Good. They were still engrossed and completely unaware of my presence. I couldn’t ask for more than that.

I briefly closed my eyes, but when I heard my cell phone start ringing, quickly opened them again when I heard the snarls erupting from around the side of the container. There were also a couple of short barks and then a brief snapping sound before a following whimper.

I peered back into the silver of the blade. The subordinate was getting up to investigate the noise, the other one was still slumped greedily over his kill.

In the distance, the cell phone kept ringing and the Vân
â
tor took off in a slow trot towards its sound, disappearing behind one of the containers a few metres away and parallel to the one I was hiding behind. With each step, I could hear its nails clinking against the concrete surface. I decided to give it at least twenty seconds to make sure there was a good distance between us and it.

Twenty seconds passed. I could no longer hear the retreating claws against the ground. I tightened my grip on the blade and edged my way around the corner.

The vân
â
tor looked up immediately from its kill. I had never seen such ferocity in a beast’s eyes before. They were as black as night itself, framed by grey fur that narrowed in the corners which suggested I was being weighed and measured. The flesh then wrinkled across his brow, narrowing the eyes even further as my scared reflection stared back at me from the pits of obsidian darkness.

I moved my gaze from his eyes and focused on the part that could kill me—his teeth. The greyed fur was thinner in this section, pulled tight across the snout revealing a vicious sneer that showed off every single one of the Vân
â
tor’s sharp, pointed fangs.

I debated for just under a second whether or not I should just put my head between my legs and kiss my ass goodbye. The last vân
â
tor I had killed had been frozen with magic first and there had been nothing but shock on its face.

This was different.

This was primal.

I could see that this beast desired nothing more than to tear me to pieces.

As I stepped forward, the muzzle on the beast pulled back, revealing even more deadly fangs at his disposal.

He snarled at me, the deep, throaty sound tearing through the silence of the night and stripping me of my self confidence. I felt a tremor quake right through me and my heart sped up. He would smell my fear. I had no doubt about that. Hell, if he kept looking at me with those blood thirsty eyes, I was going to smell my fear too … in my pants.

The Vân
â
tor straightened up from his slouched position, his limbs stretching, hackles rising.

Wow, they’re a lot bigger than I remember.

He slinked towards me, his thick talons clinking against the ground with each step that he took.

I clutched the blade even tighter, the skin of my knuckles stretched taught and white against the bone. I mirrored his steps until we were standing only a few metres apart. I didn’t have much time. The phone had stopped ringing and the other wolf would soon be back.

The Vân
â
tor leaned back slightly, his weight shifting to his rear legs. It was ready to pounce and I watched for the slightest sign of movement.

The wolf displayed his fangs with a menacing snarl, snapping his snout together with a thunderous clap that echoed through the night. It startled me and I jumped. I guess I’d thought that once he saw the knife in my hand that he would back down.

No such luck—a bucket load of ludicrous wishful thinking on my part.

The next few seconds happened as if in slow motion. His claws left the ground in an instant. He was sailing towards me quicker than I could blink.

Then I was ducking down, raising the blade and, in my mind, running over the skills I had been taught. As he sailed over me, I nicked the underside of his belly, drawing blood, but not enough to wound, just enough to seriously piss him off.

I dropped and rolled, but was not fast enough. His back claws caught the side of my shoulder, tearing through the material of my coat and piercing the flesh beneath. I cried out in pain. Nausea swept over me in an instant as blood poured quickly out of the wound, the sweet, salty scent tantalising to my nostrils, yet churning my stomach in response.

I clutched at the wound with my other hand, waiting for my self-healing abilities to kick in. But the Vân
â
tor did not wait. He was circling me and flying through the air again before I could defend myself. He knocked me completely to the ground, his front paws landing heavily across my chest. I felt the air whoosh out my lungs as I gasped for breath.