Damned and Cursed (Book 2): Witch's Kurse (52 page)

He was proud of all his men as they headed for the door, ready for the hunt in the woods.
 
Smoltz had lacerations across his chest.
 
Trinidad's finger dangled from his hand, held on only by a piece of skin.
 
Murphy has glass in his neck.
 
None of that matter, they all wanted to hunt.

"No, guys," he said.
 
"Get to the van."

They grumbled, but obeyed.
 
He signaled for Nolan to stay behind.

"It's always something, isn't it?" Nolan said, trying to smile.
 
"It never goes how you plan."

Puppy or not, Sean had to admire her.
 
Strong, tough, resilient.
 
Not many of her kind had control over parts of the change.
 
He'd seen very few able to shift their hands, and with her body full of silver, he knew that couldn't be easy.

"She's a brutal little mutt," he admitted.
 
"But she's wounded now.
 
She's got so much silver in her we'll be lucky if she doesn't die in a ditch."

"What if she does die?"

He sighed.
 
"Then we'll hunt the hard way.
 
Nothing we haven't done before.
 
Just hope her pack is small.
 
But there has to be something here.
 
Help me before the real cops show up."

They tore into the boxes.
 
Clothes, towels, sheets, DVDs, utensils.
 
Nothing that would point in the direction of a pack.
 
She didn't even have pictures of any friends.
 
The only pictures she had were of an older couple.

"Sean," Nolan said.
 
"What if Rob was right?
 
What if she really doesn't have a pack?"

"Then she'd be the first.
 
But, hey, if that's true, then the hunt's nearly over already."

Something on the coffee table caught his attention, right out in the open.
 
He crossed the room, his foot aching, and picked up the plain business card.

There was no title, no address.
 
There was only a name and a few phone numbers.

"You find something?"

Sean flipped the card to see nothing on the back.
 
His gut was telling him the card was important.

"I'm not sure," he said, handing the card to Nolan.
 
"Give home-base a call.
 
Tell them I want a ten-eighteen on this guy."

Nolan frowned.
 
"A ten-eighteen?
 
Will they approve that?"

"They will if I say so."

"Damn, Sean.
 
Isn't that a little overkill?
 
Shit, the guy's family…."

"It's just precautionary.
 
There's nothing in this place that suggests our puppy even knows anyone, except this card.
 
My brother knew every move she made, every person she talked to, and didn't mention this guy.
 
It's just a feeling, Nolan, but I don't think he sells vacuums door to door."

"Okay.
 
You're the boss.
 
You should get your foot looked at."

Sean shook his head as he backed out of the apartment.
 
A werewolf with no pack, with no friends of any kind.
 
All she had was an out-of-business bar due to a fire, and a business card.
 
Did she have anything to do with Rob's death?

"Just stay alive a little longer, little pup," he whispered.
 
"I've got some questions for you."

Jack let out a relaxed breath as he parked outside the hotel.
 
He finally felt at peace.
 
All the tension was gone.
 
It was nearly five o'clock in the morning.
 
He'd worked through the entire night, but it was worth it.
 
Charlie's body parts were scattered all over the woods of Sandy Cliffs.
 
He would never stalk or hurt another mortal again.

Reclining his seat back, Jack didn't feel the urge to leave the car right away.
 
He basked in the moment.
 
After visiting Erica's grave one last time, he went to an all-night fast food place and ate a burger.
 
Now he could prepare to go home, kick the witch out of his house and get back to a normal life.
 
Taking Tiffany to school, helping her with homework, cooking dinner.
 
All he had to do was call his pilot and the limousine service.
 
There was a good chance he could get home before she got out of school.

The thought of stopping to see Marie before he left crossed his mind.

Angry with himself, he shoved the idea aside.
 
Thinking about her, allowing himself to be curious, it was a sign of weakness.
 
She had his contact information, and she would use it if she wanted.
 
Until then, he would snuff her from his thoughts, fight his attraction to her.

The last attraction he'd entertained didn't turn out so well.

He left the car and walked through the hotel lobby.
 
The lone woman at the counter smiled and waved, and he nodded in return.
 
Several mortals were checking out, while others ate breakfast in the dining room.
 
He thought about the work ahead of him.
 
There was some light packing to do, a few calls to the people that worked for him, checking out.
 
He owed a phone call to the witch, to get him packing his disgusting witchcraft and cleaning up the couch Jack was certain he had sex on.

Unlocking his hotel door, he flipped on the light, and didn't expect what lay before him.

Marie was curled in a fetal position on the floor at the foot of the bed, nearly unrecognizable.
 
She wore only underwear and a bra.
 
Blood and mud covered her from head to toe.
 
He could see bullet wounds all over her body.
 
The window was shattered, the glass leading inward, and the morning breeze billowed the curtains.

"Marie?"

She looked up at the sound of her name.
 
Shivering uncontrollably, her head fell back to the carpet.
 
She didn't even have the strength to keep it lifted.
 
Jack saw what could only be described as a large set of handcuffs he was sure was made of pure silver.
 
One cuff was on her wrist while the other hung loose.
 
The flesh on her wrist was swollen and red from the reaction.
 
A gash started at the top of her head near her hairline and ran down her face, across the eye socket and down her cheek.
 
Her right eye was swollen shut.

Jack shut the door behind him and knelt next to her.
 
He ran a hand along her bare side, and she trembled.
 
He was familiar with how a werewolf reacted to silver.
 
Their entire body slowed down; the pain was everywhere.
 
It ate at their strength, their senses, not letting them change.
 
If the silver stayed in their system long enough, they would die.

He gently tried to examine her.
 
She was in obvious agony, but didn't whimper, didn't cry.
 
His already high opinion of her improved.

"How did you find me?" he asked.

He felt foolish as soon as he asked the question.
 
Marie's hand reached up and flicked her nose, and she actually smiled.

"C-Chocolate," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Jack grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently.
 
He was trying to comfort her, and that fact surprised him.

He only had his daughter to blame, making him care about things.

"How many bullets?" he asked.
 
"How much silver?"

"Alot and…alot."

"I'll be right back.
 
Don't go anywhere."

"Ha…funny."

Jack marched out of the room and down the hall.
 
He headed for the door near the elevator marked for maintenance.
 
Turning the knob, he wasn't surprised it wasn't locked.
 
The maintenance worker probably cared as much about security as Jack did the average mortal.
 
If it was locked, he would have broken down the door.

He searched the maintenance closet, and saw exactly what he expected.
 
Loose parts and tools, dirty rags, a busted television, some papers scattered about.
 
Jack found what he was looking for, and grabbed the toolbox from the corner.
 
He popped it open and saw the two tools he needed.
 
If Marie survived, she would hate him.

Not that he cared.

Jack carried the entire box back to the room.
 
Marie wasn't moving, and her eyes were closed.
 
A quick stab of panic poked him as he glanced at her chest, looking for movement.

"Marie!" he said harshly.

She jumped, her eyes searching around frantically.
 
She smiled when she saw Jack and settled back on the carpet.

"You'd better appreciate the hell out of this," Jack said.
 
"I usually push people toward death, not pull them away."

"Sorry…nowhere else…to go."

"Shut up.
 
Save your words for the million
thank yous
you'll owe me.
 
That is, if you live."

"You know…just…what to say…to a girl."

Marie laughed, but the laugh quickly turned into a grimace of pain.
 
She coughed, and Jack rolled her on her side.
 
She nearly touched the bottom of the bed.
 
He ran into the bathroom and grabbed a clean towel.

"Put this in your mouth and grab a hold of the bed frame."

"I'll bet…you say that…alot.
 
Kinky."

Jack smiled.
 
He liked her sense of humor.

He turned on the television to help with the noise he knew was coming.
 
Opening the toolbox, he pulled out the needle-nose pliers and utility knife.
 
There was no point in sterilizing them, not with a werewolf.

"Okay, Marie," he said.
 
"I know you're aware of this, but this is going to hurt.
 
Very much."

Jack went to work.
 
He started with Marie's legs, only because he thought those would be the easiest bullets to dig out.
 
The one in her shin wasn't bad, but her thigh wound was difficult to work with.
 
Marie screamed and bit into the towel as soon as the pliers touched her flesh.
 
She gripped the bottom of the bed frame so hard Jack thought she would break it.
 
Smoke escaped her wounds as the silver burned her flesh.

"Sit still," he told her.
 
"This is hard enough as it is without you jerking around."

The bullet in her thigh wouldn't cooperate.
 
He grabbed the utility knife and cut into her leg, making the wound bigger.
 
Marie howled and clenched her eyes shut, and for a brief, fleeting second, he almost felt her pain.
 
Jack knew a mortal wouldn't survive the gruesome surgery.
 
There was a chance Marie wouldn't survive.
 
But luckily she lost her mortality long ago.

Jack finally pulled out one of the larger caliber bullets he'd ever seen.
 
The hunters after Marie weren't playing around.
 
Her leg was a mess, oozing blood and pus.

Two bullets down, a few more to go.
 
Marie didn't look to be in good enough shape to take much more.
 
The towel fell from her mouth and she breathed quickly, almost panting.
 
Her leg twitched.
 
Jack was sure he did major damage, but he didn't have a choice, not if he wanted to save her life.

"Haven't you ever been shot before?" he asked.
 
"Stop acting like such a little bitch."

He achieved the reaction he wanted.
 
Marie turned and glared at him, rage in her eyes.
 
Jack took that moment to dig in her shoulder.
 
She screamed without the towel, trying to cover her mouth before he handed it to her.
 
She gripped Jack's shirt with her free hand, nearly twisting it off his torso.

"This will cost you," he said.
 
"I'll need to have the window fixed.
 
How did you even get up here?
 
Did you have one last wolf jump in you?
 
Then the room will need scrubbing.
 
I'll have to lay out a bribe or two."

Jack's shirt ripped as Marie writhed in pain.
 
He pinned her down as best he could, but she was strong, even in her weakened state.

"And you owe me a new shirt."

It took over an hour for Jack to remove every bullet.
 
The sun rose while he worked.
 
He gave Marie a two-minute break in the middle while he hung the
Do Not Disturb
sign outside the room.
 
After pulling out the last bullet he looked her over.
 
Her body was in terrible shape.
 
Open wounds, blisters, singed skin.
 
Blood was everywhere on the carpet.
 
The mud caked all over her was dry.

"Those silver handcuffs don't look comfortable."

"Burns…."

"I'm sure it does.
 
Okay, again, this won't feel good."