The Rogue Hunter (3 page)

The beam of light immediately dropped to illuminate the feet of the woman with the ponytail—Jo—as she raised one foot for examination.

"It looks like mud," Sam said reassuringly.

"It was cold and squishy," Jo said uncertainly. Teetering about in her stork-like position, she bent to better examine the bottom of the foot in question and would have lost her balance and tumbled to the grass had Alex not stepped into the beam of light to catch her arm and steady her.

"Mud is cold and squishy," Alex said reasonably. "Besides, if you'd stepped on a baby frog it would be a
pancake
on the ground here, and there's no sign of frog pancake that I can see."

Sam moved the beam of her flashlight over the ground.

"No frog pancake," she pointed out with a shrug.

The beam of light then whirled away as she turned and moved forward once more, this time at a fast clip. She called out, "Last one in has to cook breakfast in the morning."

That set off a round of squeals, and Mortimer watched the moonlight silvering off pale skin as the two women rushed after Sam toward a small stretch of beach at the end of the lot nearest where he and Bricker stood. While the women did squeal, the very description was somewhat misleading. They were making an obvious effort to keep their voices down to avoid disturbing anyone. Understandable considering the hour and the way sound carried across water, Mortimer supposed, and frowned as the women moved down a small incline to the shore's edge. They hadn't gone inside to change into bathing suits. Surely they weren't going to—

"Are they stripping?" Bricker asked in a hopeful whisper.

Rather than answer, Mortimer moved closer to shore until they were almost parallel to the women again.
Almost
because the three women had thrown off their clothes in a rush and charged into the water with stifled squeals by the time he stopped.

"Damn," Bricker breathed, pausing at his side to watch the women jumping about and gasping in the water. "I think I'm going to like it here."

Mortimer barely caught back the bark of laughter that tried to escape at those words. Sometimes he forgot how young his partner was, but then something like this happened, and he was reminded that Bricker was still under one hundred and still suffered all kinds of hungers and appetites that older immortals were free of.

The man was ravenous in most of his appetites, whether it was food, drink, or sex.

That would change with time, he thought almost regretfully. Food and drink would all start to taste the same and hold less and less interest until it was something Bricker wouldn't bother with. As for sex… after a couple hundred years even sex became a time-consuming and troublesome bore, and when that happened, it was soon dropped as an activity. There were only so many positions, so many exciting places to perform it, and really, women—when you could read their every thought and desire, could be quite tedious. Having read thousands of mortals, hundreds of thousands even, Mortimer had come to the conclusion that women were the worriers of the species. Their minds seemed consumed with worry about everything from the weather to what to serve for the next meal. They worried about the health of each and every loved one around them, worried about finances, about time constraints, about whether they were meeting everyone's needs. They worried about rising crime, the threat of terrorism, aging… The list of worries was endless and exhausting just to have to read from their thoughts. Mortimer couldn't imagine having to live with such constant high levels of anxiety.

In contrast, mortal males didn't seem to suffer the same degree of anxiety. From what he'd read of mortal male minds there were only two areas where they suffered any sort of worry: at work and in bed. Work worry—which usually translated to financial worry—depended on the job they held. The other worry… well, size and performance were the key factors there, but that wasn't true with all men. Some men thought they were "hung" or that they were super skilled in the bedroom. However, a quick read of the mind of his wife or girlfriend often proved that to be delusional thinking on the part of the man.

A sharp gasp and splashing drew his attention back to the women in the lake. Moonlight was reflecting off the water and glinting on their wet skin, making it easier for him to see them. Their skin was exceptionally pale, or appeared to be under the moonlight.

"They're sisters." Bricker whispered the words to prevent the women from hearing him. "This is the family cottage. They arrived about an hour ago, unloaded their vehicle, unpacked everything, and this is their traditional first-night skinny-dip."

He merely nodded. Bricker was obviously reading from the mind of one—or all—of the women. Mortimer hadn't bothered to do so himself, and didn't now. Instead he pointed out, "We still need to unpack ourselves."

"Yeah, but we should wait until the girls are done swimming. They might run into trouble and need rescuing or something and…" Bricker's voice faded when he saw the expression on Mortimer's face. "Yeah, all right. We unpack."

Mortimer turned quickly to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

Chapter Two

"I take it you couldn't find the breaker panel?" Mortimer asked as they passed the still-dark cottage.

"I did," Bricker countered. "I flipped every single switch, but nothing happened. That storm this afternoon must have knocked out the power."

"Storm?" Mortimer asked as they continued on to the SUV.

"Yeah. I checked the Weather Channel this morning before lying down for the day and they were predicting a storm up this way," the younger immortal explained. "It must have taken out the power."

Mortimer grunted an agreement as they opened the back of the SUV and peered at the supplies inside. It was an Argeneau vehicle. Sometimes they had to make do with rentals, but usually when they were on an assignment they had special vehicles supplied by Argeneau Enterprises or one of its subsidiaries… like this SUV. It was all tricked out with special features, a state-of-the-art GPS system, specially treated glass to block the sun's UV rays, souped-up engines to give them more power, special racks and storage compartments built in all over the vehicle to hold weapons they would need, and a unique resting spot and hookup in the back for a specially designed cooler to store blood.

That was something new, actually. The SUV's cooler was the same size and shape as a large picnic cooler, but it was really a refrigerator that could be plugged into a special power source installed in the SUV or a normal plug inside a building. When without power, it ran on a battery that recharged every time it was plugged into a power source. One of the Argeneau scientists had come up with the design and this was a prototype, the first time they'd used it in the field. Mortimer thought it would definitely come in handy.

Bricker leaned in and grabbed two long rectangular leather cases by their handles. They were full of weapons and were heavy. A mortal would have been struggling under the weight of one, but Bricker lifted out the pair as if they were feather-light.

Once he was out of the way, Mortimer snagged the cooler and tugged it closer to the edge of the vehicle.

"Will the blood be okay in the cooler until the power's back on?"

Mortimer nodded as he lifted it out. "It should be fine for tonight, but come morning we might need to hit a store for ice."

"When is Decker going to show up?"

"Actually, he was supposed to be up here already," Mortimer admitted with a slight frown as he started toward the steps to the cottage.

"He was?" Bricker asked with surprise. "Well, I've been through the whole cottage, and he isn't here."

Mortimer shrugged. "Perhaps he had to go out for something."

Where a mortal would have been shocked at the idea of the man's needing to go out for anything at this hour, Bricker merely nodded. This was their daytime, when they usually performed their chores and what daily tasks could be done. All he said was a disgruntled "You'd think he'd have stuck around and waited for us. He knew we were coming."

"True," Mortimer agreed and then added heavily, "But then we were expected to arrive here by midnight and it's now after two a.m."

Bricker grinned and said innocently, "You make it sound like that's my fault."

Mortimer laughed at his feigned innocence and said, "Oh please. I waited an hour and a half for you to finish your packing, and
then
you insisted on stopping at absolutely every damned roadside stop there was, whether it was McDonald's or a greasy spoon diner. Honestly, if you weren't an immortal, I wouldn't bet on you living more than another five years with all the grease you consume. I swear you're starting to smell like a French fry."

"I am not!" Bricker protested, and then frowned and asked, "Am I?"

Mortimer just shook his head and moved in front of the other man to mount the steps. At the door to the cottage, he shifted the cooler to his hip again and opened the door for Bricker to precede him inside.

"I don't know why Lucian insisted on us bringing so much in the way of weapons," Bricker commented as he led the way inside. "For that matter, I don't know why he thinks we need three hunters up here. From the sounds of it we're only chasing after a lone rogue vamp, and all he's doing is biting the occasional mortal. It's not like he's a dangerous character or anything."

"Yeah." Mortimer said as he followed and set the cooler on the table. "But Decker is kind of an add-on. He's really supposed to be on vacation but his cottage was handy. Besides, while it may look like a lone neck biter, for all we know that may just be the tip of the iceberg, and it's better to be safe than sorry. That's Lucian's motto."

Bricker didn't comment as he set down what he'd brought in.

"I'm going to go lock up the SUV," Mortimer said, turning back toward the door. "I'll just be a minute."

Mortimer had closed the back of the SUV and was headed to the stairs when a startled shriek made him freeze. His head immediately jerked toward the trees between the cottages. After a hesitation, he turned in that direction, walking quickly down to the shore to make sure all was well.

"What is it?" one of the women asked in anxious tones as he neared the shoreline.

"Something bumped up against me in the water," came the answer, and Mortimer thought it was the girl with the ponytail who spoke. Jo.

"It's probably just a fish," Sam's reassuring voice said.

That reassurance was ruined when the one with the bob, Alex, said, "Of course, we do have snapping turtles here."

There was a moment of silence as the three women stared at one another, and then they suddenly turned as one and made a swift exodus from the water. Mortimer stood completely still and watched, finding his gaze repeatedly drawn to the clumsy Sam. For some reason he found himself fascinated by the sight of her pale skin painted with water and moonlight.

"Nice view."

Mortimer turned his head sharply at that whisper to find Bricker standing at his side again. Shrugging, he explained, "I heard one of the girls scream and thought I'd make sure everything was all right."

Bricker nodded. "I heard it from inside the cottage. The girl has a healthy set of lungs."

Mortimer nodded, his glance returning to the women as they slipped inside the cottage next door. He saw the flashlight beam bounce around, sliding past the windows and moving over the room as candles were lit to ward off the darkness. Then the flashlight was shut off and the candles moved out of sight of the windows at the front of the cottage. The women were going to bed, each taking a candle with her to her room.

"I'll go see if we have candles." Bricker turned away to head back toward their cottage.

"I'll help," Mortimer murmured, but didn't follow right away. A faint glow had appeared inside the very last window on this side of the neighboring cottage, and Mortimer found himself watching as light and shadow danced behind the glass. For some reason he was absolutely positive it was the window to Sam's bedroom, and he found himself standing there, silently watching until the candlelight went out.

It was only then he noted the flicker of light to his side. Turning, he saw that Bricker had found a candle and it now shone from the window.

Mortimer glanced one last time toward the cottage next door, wondering if the girls would be a problem. He didn't think so or Decker would have said so to Lucian, but it was something to consider. He turned and made his way back across the yard.

"Only an Argeneau would think this was a cottage," Bricker said dryly as Mortimer entered.

Pausing inside the door, Mortimer let his gaze slide over the large open kitchen/dining/living area with its high, cathedral ceiling and huge, old-fashioned fan hanging in the center. The kitchen was on his right, sectioned off by a large, L-shaped, marble-topped counter. The floors and cupboards were pine, the appliances stainless steel, and included a microwave and dishwasher along with the standard stove and refrigerator. A large island filled the center of the kitchen, with glasses and copper pots and pans hanging overhead.

The dining area on his left ran along the glass wall overlooking the lake. The hardwood continued there, and a large, long table and twelve chairs of light wood filled the space.

The living room took up the other half of the open space and held white leather furniture and stone-topped tables, as well as a huge sixty-two-inch television.

All the comforts of home, Mortimer thought with amusement. This was a rich man's idea of a cottage, but then Decker was a rich man.

"It doesn't belong to an Argeneau," Mortimer reminded Bricker as he finally turned back to push the door closed. "It's Decker's cottage, remember."

"Yeah, but he's Martine's son and she's an Argeneau by birth," Bricker pointed out.

Mortimer didn't argue the point. Martine
had
been born an Argeneau. In fact, she was the eldest Argeneau daughter, and while she'd taken on her husband's last name when she married Aloysius Pimms, they switched off between Argeneau and Pimms each century in an effort to avoid their failure to age from being detected. This century, Decker was a Pimms, but an Argeneau by any other name was still an Argeneau.