Night Seeker (3 page)

I nodded, then turned to the others. “Two of the Shadow Hunters are on the far side of the house. Ulean will run interference for our scent, but be prepared to take them down. No prisoners, no survivors.”

No prisoners.
That had become our creed. I was still getting used to the feeling of being a killer. “Murderer” wasn’t a label that weighed easily on my mind, but it was what it was, and Myst was who she was, and in the deadly game of
us or them
, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice myself or my friends.

We quietly climbed out of the car and I craned my neck, listening. My father did the same. Lannan and Kaylin stood guard, poised for trouble.

A gust of wind howled past and I projected myself onto the slipstream. A whisper rushed by. I listened, focusing to catch the faint words. It wasn’t Ulean.
What did you find? Does anything live within the house?

And then an answer:
No flesh. No life. Nothing of importance. Only trinkets. She will not want them.

The Shadow Hunters.
And they were probably searching for the cats, looking for food. No worries there, though. We’d managed to save all of the felines from the flames and falling timbers, and they were tucked away, safe and sound, back at the warehouse with Luna.

I turned to the others. “We go in. Take them down. Wrath, can you change into your owl form? They won’t be expecting you.”

My father nodded, stepping away from us. He shimmered and then, in a blur, lifted his arms. They became feathered wings, an almost six-foot span. His body transformed, shrinking, and then there he stood—a great horned owl, majestic and beautiful, a study in grace and danger.

I sucked in a deep breath, my blood stirring as it recognized his. Beside me, Kaylin let out a little sound. Lannan stiffened, watching my father with almost too much interest. His obsidian eyes glittered, taking in every nuance of the metamorphosis.

When Wrath was ready, he launched himself off the ground and took to the air, circling us as I jerked my head
at the others. Crouching, I moved forward slowly and cautiously. Wrath disappeared around the house, his wings silently propelling him through the night.

Are you ready? We’re about to go in.

Ulean’s hushed reply echoed through me.
I will slip ahead and disrupt your scent. They will not know you are coming.

And so we moved. I took the lead, with Kaylin behind me and Lannan silent as the night behind him. For some reason, Lannan’s stealth surprised me, though I don’t know why—vampires made no sound when they chose not to. Perhaps it was because he was so flamboyant. Perhaps because he always had to have the last word. Whatever the case, we proceeded in unison, stooping through the shadows, keeping to the sides of the ruined Veil House.

My fan was looped around my wrist. With it I could summon up gale force winds against our enemies, even a tornado, but Lainule had warned me to use it with caution. Magical objects had a way of possessing their owners if they weren’t careful. In my other hand, I held a silver dagger my father had given me. Kaylin was armed with shurikens, and Lannan carried no weapons. He
was
a weapon.

We circled the house, the scent of sodden ash and charcoal filling my nose. I caught my breath, once again struck by the loss we’d endured. But worse yet was the loss of my aunt Heather. She had been the heart and soul of the Veil House. Thinking about her, living under Myst’s rule as a vampire, made me cringe. I forced my attention back to what we were doing. One thing at a time. As for Heather…she was long lost to us. There was nothing we could do but attempt to release her spirit, and that meant finding her—and staking her.

As we rounded the corner, there they were.
The Shadow Hunters. Vampiric Fae.
They lurched up as we rushed in, and one of them let out a low hiss. The cerulean cast to their skin glowed in the light of the falling snow, but instead of the pure black of vampires’ eyes, the black voids glittered with a swirl of white stars.

I rushed forward, trying to reach them before they
transformed. As I moved toward one, Wrath came winging down with a shriek and grappled the other by the shoulder.

The Shadow Hunter screamed and twisted as my father raked his skin. As Wrath flew out of reach, Kaylin sent a flurry of shurikens into the man. I launched myself at my opponent, with Lannan right on my heels.

The Shadow Hunter saw me coming and pulled out an obsidian dagger. Crap. Their blades were usually poisoned, so sharp that they could rip through skin like a hot knife through butter. And I had a particularly hard time with obsidian. The stone unleashed my predatory nature and I didn’t have control over the effects yet.

I darted to the side as he brought the blade to bear. Lunging past his outstretched arm, I drove my own dagger deep into the muscle above his waist. He let out a scream and began to transform as Lannan came in from the other side.

The Shadow Hunter shifted, his mouth unhinging as his jaw lengthened and he went down on all fours, into a monstrous dog-beast with razor-sharp teeth. He rushed toward me, even as Lannan landed on his back and brought his fangs down onto the back of the creature’s neck, distracting it.

I grabbed the chance, plunging my blade between its eyes. As the Shadow Hunter screeched, Lannan reared back, driving his fangs deep in the flesh as he ripped open the veins. A fountain of blood bubbled up, spurting into the air, foaming over the side of the beast. With a throaty laugh, Lannan began to suckle from the wound.

I stumbled back, yanking my dagger out of the creature’s skull, unable to look away. There was something primal, something feral and wild and passionate about watching the vampire feed. I wanted to reach out, to run my hand through his hair, to brush his lips with my own…

Ulean howled around me.
Cicely! Watch your step—you are too close to the flame.

Shaking my head, I forced myself to turn away and brushed my hands across my eyes.
Damn it
. Ever since I’d
drunk Lannan’s blood, there’d been a bond between us that I did not want. Like it or not, it existed, no matter how hard I tried to deny it. I’d noticed, over the past few days, that I felt him when he was nearby, like a shadow creeping behind me, waiting. As much as I tried to hide the sensations from Grieve, I was afraid my lover had noticed.

Shaky, my knees weak, I turned to see that my father was back in his Fae form. He and Kaylin were finishing off their opponent. Wrath carried a curved dagger and he slit the man’s throat quickly and quietly, stepping away as the Shadow Hunter clutched at his neck and went tumbling to the ground.

They lay there, silent bodies in the snow, as a pale stain of blood spread around them, dyeing the brilliant white with dark crimson. Lannan pulled away from the creature, which had reverted to its Fae form. He wiped his mouth on his hand, his eyes glittering. His shirt was stained with blood, and he fastened his gaze on me.

Stepping forward, he reached for my hand, and unable to look away, I let him take it. With a slow, sinuous smile, he lifted my fingers to his mouth, kissing them one by one with his bloody lips.

A shiver raced through me, a live wire that set me aflame. There was something about the blood splattered on him, about the savage way he’d torn into the Shadow Hunter, that set me off. As if he could sense my thoughts, Lannan’s smile turned into a smirk, and he squeezed my hand so tightly I grimaced, then he slowly let go, dragging his index finger against my palm.

My wolf growled. I pressed my hand to the tattoo on my stomach. Grieve could sense my feelings, and he wasn’t happy. I quieted him, even as Lannan leaned close to my ear.

“I can smell your arousal,” Lannan whispered. “I’ll fuck you right here if you want me to, baby.” But then Wrath called to us, and he backed away.

I turned to find Kaylin staring at me, but he said nothing. Instead, he motioned to the house. “We should get in there and see what we can find before any of their kinfolk arrive.”

Not trusting my voice, I nodded. The back of the house had been the most damaged, and I wasn’t sure how much I trusted the roof over the kitchen. Most of it had burned away, but there were still patches held up by support beams that had survived the inferno, albeit heavily damaged. The front of the house looked much more stable.

“We go in through the front door,” I finally said. The others followed me, Kaylin first pocketing the obsidian knives from our enemies. We hurried back around the house and up the front steps.

The house is clear?

Ulean shivered against me.
Yes, the house is empty, but do not tarry. The woods are alert tonight. The hunters are awake and active. They are searching for you and Grieve. And all who helped him escape.

“We have to hurry, Myst’s people are out in full force and we don’t have a lot of time.” I jogged up the stairs and pushed open the door. We hadn’t even had a chance to lock it when we were rushing to escape.

As I entered the living room, it hit me just how much had happened in the past few weeks—and how much we’d all lost.

My name is Cicely Waters and I’m one of the magic-born, a witch who can control the wind. I’m also part Cambyra Fae—the shifting Fae. Uwilahsidhe to be precise, which means I can shift into an owl. On that front, I only recently learned about my heritage and in no way have honed my abilities. But in a few short weeks I’ve learned to love being in my owl form, and I’ve found a freedom I’d never before experienced. Flying, soaring over the ground, has offered me an escape I’ve never before felt. I always felt like a part of me was missing. Now, I feel whole.

When I was very young, Grieve—the Fae Prince of the Court of Rivers and Rushes, and his friend Chatter—came to my cousin Rhiannon and me and taught us how to use our magical abilities. It was Grieve who bound me to
Ulean, my Wind Elemental, telling me I would need her help. In a sense, he was foreshadowing my life to come.

When I turned six, my mother, Krystal, dragged me down the stairs of the Veil House, and we headed out on the road. My aunt Heather and the only stability I’d ever known vanished in the blink of one afternoon.

I learned early on how to survive on the streets. I’d longed to return to the Veil House, but Krystal—a meth head who used booze and drugs to dim her own gifts—wasn’t capable of surviving on her own and so I stayed with her until she died in the gutter, a bloodwhore who’d serviced one bad trick too many. Until that day, I’d kept us going, using my ability to hear messages on the wind to stay one step ahead of the cops and the drug runners.

And now my mother was dead, and I’d finally returned to New Forest, Washington. But too little, too late. My aunt had been captured by Myst, and my cousin Rhiannon was terrified for her life. Myst holds the town in her icy grip, and she’s out to spread her people throughout the land, to conquer the vampires and use the magic-born and yummanii—the humans—as cattle.

In a past life long, long ago, I was Myst’s daughter. And Grieve had been my lover then, too. We’d defied our families to be together, rampaging through the bounty hunters and soldiers who sought for us. We’d hidden behind rock and tree, snared them in traps, and I’d torn them to shreds, reveling in the blood.

Grieve and I had fought for our love, killed for our love, and—at the end—when we were cornered and couldn’t escape—died for our love. We had bound ourselves together forever with a potion designed to bring us back together again in another life.

Now, we’re back, and we’ve found one another again. Once again, we’re caught between the Cambyra Fae and the Vampiric Fae. Only this time, Grieve is the one bound to the Indigo Court. Myst turned him into one of her own. And now, the vampires are playing into the equation. I’m tied to Lannan’s shirttail by a contract that he insists on enforcing.

Some of our allies have chosen to betray us, so we’re in hiding, on the run, fighting against overwhelming odds. Only this time, it will be different. Neither Myst nor the vampires will win. Grieve and I will weather the storm. We have no other option.

Once we were inside, I flipped on a pale flashlight. The living room had survived the fire, with soot and smoke damage, but the weather was creeping in through the caved-in roof in the kitchen, and I shivered at the ravaged state of the room. Myst’s people had been through here, that much was apparent. The upholstered sofas were shredded as if by wild dogs. Holes marred the walls, the beautiful old antiques had been scratched and broken.