The Witch Hunter (22 page)

He couldn't fathom it, but he suddenly wanted her. She was irresistible. Tilting her chin up, he kissed her lightly on the lips, the contact pulling at his heart. Drawing back, he looked into her eyes again, as if he was asking approval to taste her lips again. Her hand clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer and this time she kissed him with a need that took his breath away. Where had this come from? Unable to stop himself, he pushed her back onto the bed and was on top of her, his hand running down her side, caressing into the curve of her waist, sliding over her hip, down her thigh, pulling her leg up around him, all the while his lips never leaving hers. 

Aya rolled him over, her lithe form melding into his. In that moment he knew he'd do anything to please her, anything. Abruptly, she pulled away gasping for breath. He followed, clutching her hips, not letting her break contact. They were face to face, his eyes searching hers.

Finally she said, "I'm sorry."

"What for?" he whispered huskily. "I'm not."

"I can't do this with you. No matter how much I want to." She looked pained, the confusion clear on her face.

He cocked his head and went to speak, but her hand was on his mouth stopping him. He was utterly in her trance. The feel of her hand on his lips was heady and he kissed her palm. She scowled, gazing into his eyes, "Sorry about this..." she murmured.

"Sorry about wha..."

When Zac woke, the morning light filtered through the cheap curtains, bathing the room in a disgusting budget motel shade of mustard. He could hear the water running in the bathroom, the blue sterile light of the fluorescent globe shining through the crack of the door which was slightly ajar. He could vaguely see the form of a woman through the frosted glass of the shower screen. He gazed at her for a minute or two and turned his head, suddenly aware that he probably shouldn't.

He sat bolt upright. Shit, where was he? Rubbing his eyes, he remembered being in the alleyway... blood... and Aya pulling him off his kill. She brought him to the motel and they talked into the night and he slept. Now he remembered. And he knew he had to go back to the manor and face Sam and Liz. He groaned at the painful memory and shook his head. They had to work it out. And they had to deal with Katrin. Katrin had to die a true death before she found a way to kill them all.

Zac pulled on his shirt, his resolve piecing itself back together.

The warm water streamed down Aya's face as she closed her eyes, letting it wash her thoughts away. She had let Zac get too close; let her control wane. After all that had happened to her, she was incapable of loving anyone. She couldn't hurt him like that after Liz, regardless of whether she felt drawn to him or not. He didn't deserve it. Two thousand years of revenge had not changed her mind yet. She had to block off her sensitivity to others emotions before she did something she would regret.

Turning off the water she heard him moving about in the next room and steeled herself for the charade she'd have to play. It was twice now that she'd compelled Zac and she hoped it was the last time. Wrapping herself in a towel she stepped from the shower, and caught sight of him dressing through the crack in the bathroom door. Thankfully, his back was to her and didn't notice her gaze. Quickly dressing, she abruptly opened the door, toweling her hair dry and picked up the car keys from the dresser. "Ready to go," she stated, tossing the damp towel back into the bathroom.

He turned at the sudden movement and quickly looked away. She caught the flush in his cheeks and was confused. Was he embarrassed? He nodded at her sharp announcement and they made their way out to the car.

"Aya... I don't know what to say," he began.

She shook her head, "Don't say anything. You called me. I'm making sure it wasn't for nothing. I do have a vested interest in doing away with Katrin, so don't worry about it."

He frowned, "Just doing your duty."

"If you want to see it that way."

"Sure," he said sullenly, getting into the drivers seat.

Aya climbed into the passenger side, putting on her sunglasses. Starting the engine, Zac looked sideways at her. She was the most confusing, complicated person he had ever met and it frustrated him to no end. Secretly, he was glad she cared enough that she came for him. He still felt the need to stalk human blood, but when she was with him, he could control it. And he didn't understand why. Shaking his head, he reversed out of the lot and turned onto the adjoining Interstate.

That he was drawn to her was no great secret to him. Why, was the real question. She infuriated the hell out of him, even more since the previous night at the motel. He thought back over their conversation, but could see nothing unusual about it. She had convinced him to return to the manor and he had slept the same dreamless sleep he had had for decades. 

If, by some miracle, they could kill Katrin once and for all, he wondered what she would do then. Would she stay with them for a while, or go straight on to the next kill? 

"Can I ask you a question?" he said. Neither of them had spoke for the last four hours they had been driving.

"Yes," she said, still gazing through the windscreen at the road ahead.

"What will you do after this? I mean, if we deal with Katrin."

She was silent for a while. "I don't know," she shrugged.

Zac looked at her awkwardly and focused back on the road, "When you hunt a witch, do you kill them?"

"Not always."

"Why?"

"I save them when I can," she said matter-of-factly.

"But why, if they're already corrupt?" 

"I wasn't always this monster," she scowled. "And neither were you. Surely, you can still feel an affinity with mortal life.
That
 is reason enough."

Suddenly, he felt foolish. The vampire in him was speaking, not the human. She had two thousand years of control and understanding and he felt insignificant in comparison. A strained silence followed and they didn't speak again for some time.

Towards dusk they pulled into a gas station. Aya sat on the hood of the car staring into the distance as he pulled the hose from the pump and began to fill the tank. "What are you looking at?" he asked.

She didn't answer straight away. "I'm not looking at anything. I'm listening and right now you're making too much noise."

"What are you listening for?" he asked, ignoring the warning tone in her voice.

"Bad things stalk us, Zac. Things only I can hear coming." She was annoyed.

He raised an eyebrow at her, even though her back was to him. He didn't understand how she could say everything but give no information whatsoever. As if sensing his annoyance she turned and looked at him up and down over the top of her sunglasses. He put the nozzle back into the pump more forcefully than necessary and went to pay for the gas. 

Aya was back in the passenger seat when he returned. Slamming the door closed he turned to her, "Well?"

"Well, what?" she scowled in reaction to his curtness.

"Did you hear anything?"

"No." It was a statement designed to end the conversation.

Zac leant his head back against the seat and sighed deeply. "You have to give me something, Aya. Do you realize how frustrating you are? It's all I can do..."

She turned to him, pulling off her sunglasses, her eyes cold and angry. "What do you want from me, Zac?"

"Anything," his voice began to raise. "You never explain yourself. Our lives are on the line and you never give me the full story. How can I protect them if I don't know what I'm fighting. How can I protect..." He stopped himself, unable to say what he really meant. He wanted to protect her just as much as any one of the others. As much as his brother, who was more dear to him than his own life. What was happening to him?

"Be careful what you say next Zac," she narrowed her eyes.

He drew in a sharp breath and struggled to keep his mouth shut. Beautiful women would be the death of him, not some psycho witch from beyond the grave. "I don't want you to leave," he whispered, finally, not daring to look at her.

"I'm not going anywhere," she conceded, the anger dropping from her voice.

"Not yet," he muttered, turning the key in the ignition. He accelerated hard out of the gas station back onto the interstate. This time he ended the conversation without explaining himself.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Z
ac cringed at the relief that flooded Sam’s face when he slunk through the door, following Aya. He'd snapped his brother’s neck, but he was still glad he had come back. He was reluctant to speak to them, Sam and Liz. He knew exactly what they were going to say; every single word.

Aya grabbed his hand when he hesitated in the doorway of the parlor, pulling him into the room. Sam stood and shook his head when he laid eyes on his older brother, his eyes flickering briefly to Aya, who smiled wryly and left the room.

"Why'd you run, Zac?" he asked gently. 

"I snapped your neck, Sam." It was a statement.

"Yeah, I was there," he sighed.

"Do you understand the meaning of ironic?" Zac snorted.

"Stop it, Zac," Sam said, trying to hold himself back. When he was human, his neck had been snapped. That was how he had died.