Chapter 6
Once I gave in to the belt’s urging, keeping up with Vic wasn’t difficult. He sensed he was being chased, obviously, but he didn’t make any effort to check who was after him until he’d run perhaps a mile from the strip joint. There was a flash of mixed puzzlement and recognition in his expression as he glanced at me over his shoulder.
Two blocks from the gas station we’d blasted past, he turned a hard left into the dark between a body shop and a boarded-up building.
He was waiting for me, though I wasn’t far behind, once I rushed into the shadows after him. I don’t know if it was because I was a girl or because he recognized me that he decided to stop. It wasn’t a bad place for a confrontation.
I managed to skid to a halt before plowing into him. He made a grab for me that I avoided, hopping back a few steps to keep out of what would no doubt be a bone-crushing grip. The armor I wore was meant to stop claws or fangs, not that kind of pressure.
His eyes glowed with an eerie, yellowish luminescence in the dark, and he was baring his teeth, which were flat and fangless. Even with all the pain he’d endured, he wasn’t able to force a partial shift outside the full moon. That meant he was weak—for a werewolf—though he could still tear me apart with his bare hands if I got too close.
How funny to think of a werewolf as weak. No wonder Devon had once commented that I was crazy for being willing to approach Chaz on my own while he was in his half-man, half-wolf form. What the hell had I been thinking?
“Aren’t you the alpha’s pet human? What the fuck are you people doing?”
I snarled and darted forward, landing a punch that did a satisfactory job of wiping the disgust off his face, replacing it with pain and surprise. As he staggered back, I closed my fingers around his windpipe, shoving him flat against the wall.
“Where is he, you son of a bitch?”
Vic gasped, clawing weakly at my arm. The pain barely registered.
‘Easy,’
the belt said, the sound of it echoing in my skull with its excitement.
‘Too easy. Must find the alpha.
Must.’ I got the idea that it wanted to find Chaz for the challenge—the kill—not because I wanted to find him to prevent him from hurting someone else while handing him a nice helping of revenge in the process.
Vic was struggling to speak. My fingers eased up just enough for him to take a breath. “... not ... you can’t ...”
With a shake that thumped the back of his head against the graffiti-stained concrete of the body shop, I hefted him higher until his feet left the ground. He choked, his eyes bulging. The belt was radiating a fierce desire to squeeze the life out of him by collapsing his windpipe, which I only barely managed to suppress.
‘Kill it. It doesn’t deserve to live.’
“I need him, you fucker. Shut up and let me do this.”
Vic was already looking at me like I was off by a few degrees on the crazy meter. I’m sure by now I had notched over from “a little nuts” to “totally batshit” in his eyes. Maybe I was. Gritting my teeth, I ground out a few more words, all the while battling the belt’s urging to crush his windpipe.
“I need to know where Chaz is hiding. Tell me.
Now.”
With a little more effort, I eased my grip on his throat just enough for him to speak.
“Not ... not telling ... you!”
“Talk, you mangy excuse for a moon-chaser! Or do I need to use some silver to cut it out of you?”
“Never!” he choked. By then he’d regained the urge to fight, and started struggling. He kicked me, hard, using the leverage of the building behind him to shove me off him. We both landed on our asses, me sprawled a few feet away.
He made the mistake of trying to jump me instead of running.
Already hyped up from the earlier chase, burning with the need to hunt, the belt rose up in me like some leviathan from the deep, sliding into my limbs and directing my actions like I was no more than a marionette. With a detached sense of dull horror and panic, I could only watch and take in the sensations like a bystander in my own head as I whipped out one of the silver stakes, using the momentum as Vic yanked me toward him to embed it deep in his shoulder. He let out a howl of pure agony, his grip loosening, and I forced the stake in deeper as I rolled him to his back to straddle his waist.
His irises still burned that strange yellowish color as he gaped up at me, the hand from his uninjured side weakly clawing at my shoulder. The silver was paralyzing him. Even through the gore and the rip in his shirt, black corruption was visibly creeping over the edges of the wound and into his blood as it spread through his veins like poison. Unlike Chaz, Vic’s body wasn’t strong enough to handle the taint for any length of time. If the weapon stayed in his body too long, he’d die, even if the wound alone wasn’t a fatal one.
This was too much. While I was caught up in the chase, the thought of killing Vic hadn’t seemed so bad—but this wasn’t what I’d signed on for. He wasn’t who I was after. This wasn’t how I’d pictured this hunt ending. Maybe beating him up, hurting him a little, yeah. But I’d had every intention of sending him on his way and moving on to Chaz as soon as Vic told me where to find the bastard. The threat of using silver on him had only been that—a threat. I had never intended for things to go this far.
I silently told the belt to stop hurting the lesser Were and to pull the stake out. It ignored me. My muscles wouldn’t respond no matter how hard I concentrated on shifting my position.
For the first time, it used my mouth to speak, one of my hands cupping Vic’s jaw to force him to look at me while the other still held the stake firmly in place just below his collarbone.
“Where is your pack leader? Where are the rest of the Sunstrikers hiding? Tell me now and I’ll make it quick.”
The Were stared up, his eyes now bloodshot and dilated with panic and pain. His voice was weak, every breath a gasp. “Can’t ... won’t ...”
My facial muscles twisted in a frown. It wasn’t me making it happen. Inwardly, I was screaming, searching for the key to get out of this prison in my mind and stop this before the belt went too far.
“... kill you ... Every Other in Tri-State Region will kill you for this....”
That set my heart to skipping a beat, even though I doubted the truth of the statement. No doubt, the local shifters in the community wouldn’t be happy to find out one of their own had been hurt by a silver-wielding vigilante hunter. Thanks to the pictures of me in full hunting regalia that had made it into the news after the fight against a crazed sorcerer in Royce’s restaurant,
La Petite Boisson,
no one would have difficulty figuring out that Vic’s wound came from one of my stakes.
I hadn’t wanted to do anything more than rough him up. What if he died from silver poisoning before I could regain control of myself? I stepped up my efforts. A shiver traced down my spine, and the belt backed off, letting me withdraw the stake from Vic’s shoulder.
It left a dark hole that instantly filled with blood and pus threaded with black flakes of rot as his body fought to repair the damage. The smell of putrefaction that wafted up made me gag, but I managed to keep from tossing my cookies and concentrated on the task at hand.
“You can still walk away from this,” I said, hoping it was true. That wound made me worry. Had the stake been in too long? Was he going to die anyway? “Just tell me where to find Chaz. I’ll let you go.”
Though his eyes were glazed with pain and he’d gone frightfully pale, he pulled his lips back in a rictus grin. Blood flecked his lips when he answered in a gurgling whisper. The stake must have clipped his lung. That, or the internal silver taint had spread faster than I’d thought. “... die ... You’ll die for this ... hunter....”
Chilled, I rose on unsteady feet. This wasn’t what I’d meant to do at all. The White Hats were supposed to help me interrogate and then release him. Killing him wasn’t in the plan. Wasn’t part of the deal.
My preoccupation gave the belt an opening. Once again, my limbs moved of their own accord. Before I could stop myself, the belt had me draw one of my guns and fire point-blank into Vic’s forehead in one smooth motion.
The gunshot echoing between the two buildings was extraordinarily loud.
I screamed and staggered back, dropping the pistol as the belt released me just as fast as it had taken possession. Vic’s feet and arms jerked, his body moving in small spastic fits as if denying the last spark of his life had been stolen away. Something oatmealish splattered the concrete below his head in a growing pool of blood, and his eyes stared up and up into nothing.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck,
no.”
‘What? He would have died anyway. That just sped it along.’
“You ... What the fuck
are
you? How could you say that! Oh, fuck, he’s
dead,
I
shot
him—”
‘No one who matters will ever know it was you. Stop worrying.’
I staggered back, reaching for the edge of the nearest building. I leaned over, and my chest heaved in an effort to take breaths to calm down, but they were coming so fast, too fast, I couldn’t stop seeing those eyes staring up—
“Hey! Hey, look—over here! You okay?”
I whirled at the sound of Jack’s voice. He was leaning out the driver’s side of his van and waving to get my attention, stopped at a light across the street. I gestured weakly for him to pull into the alleyway.
The headlights washed over the dirty concrete, the Dumpsters, piles of trash, the spill of blood, and the body. Jack didn’t move right away. I’m sure he must have realized what I’d done. The rest of the White Hats spilled out of the back of the van, looking around.
Bo came over to clap me on the shoulder. “You ran out of there like a speeding bullet! Watch out, or I’m gonna have to start calling you Wonder Woman. That wolf get away?”
I shook my head and pointed. Bo squinted at the shadows, then walked over to the body. Patrick and Jason soon joined him, giving low whistles.
“Did a number on that poor bastard,” Jason said. Though I was expecting disgust or horror, his tone was completely matter-of-fact. “Better get the water, bleach, and a tarp.”
“Got it.” Jack walked past me with some folded-up cloth and rope under one arm, and a couple jugs in the other hand.
I watched, mute and dull with shock, as Patrick and Jason rapidly rolled Vic’s body into the tarp and tied it shut, and then carried it to the back of the van. Bo leaned down to pick up the gun I’d dropped, handing it back to me. He didn’t say anything about the way my hand shook when I took it from him. He then proceeded to take one of the jugs from Jack, and the two of them tore the seals off and used the water to rinse away some of the blood and bits of bone and brain matter from the cement. They followed up with some bleach, I guess to keep anybody from finding any DNA evidence to connect us to the scene.
My stomach did a queasy flip at this, watching as they did a quick, practiced job of clearing away at a casual glance any signs of the murder I’d just committed. Jack finished off the job by pulling a Swiss army knife from his back pocket and using the pliers to pry the bullet out of the concrete. Bo urged me to follow him back into the van.
Nikki was in the passenger seat. Adam was slumped in the back. Both were looking the worse for wear, but neither surprised nor impressed with the body. Or me, for that matter. Everyone else was quiet as we sat down on the benches opposite Keith’s equipment, squished together, as Jack pulled out and headed for home. For my part, I could only sit and watch in a numb haze, occasionally picking at the flakes of dried blood on my hands.
I’d just killed a man. It hadn’t been out of self defense. It hadn’t even been because he was a real threat to me. The belt was controlling me more than I’d ever guessed. Even if it had forced me to move, I’d knowingly put it on and let it take me over. Known that it wanted to do more than hurt. That it was made to hunt and kill.
Who had Vic Thomasian really been? Did he have a wife I’d just widowed? Kids? Parents still alive? Someone waiting at home, someone who cared about him, wondering where he was?
That man was dead tonight, and it was all my fault.
With the plastic-covered lump at my feet, I could think of nothing else as we drove in silence back to City Island.
Chapter 7
(Days left to full moon: 18)
Unlike the others in the van, I couldn’t find it in me to catnap on the way back. The belt, usually busy making cracks and bothering me all night with observations or requests, had gone silent. The only sound breaking the hiss of tires on asphalt and Jason’s snoring was the occasional wet cough from Jack. My elbows rested on my knees, and I bent over to stare down at the tarp-covered lump at my feet. There was a touch of dark, rusty red spattered on the outside of the treated blue fabric that kept drawing my eye again and again.
The time on the dash read 1:42
AM.
I had eighteen days left until the full moon, and the only hope I’d had of finding Chaz had been dashed along with Vic’s brains in the shadows of that stinking alley back in Jersey.
And I’d just made myself even more of a monster than I might already be turning into.
If I didn’t need the belt so badly, the minute the sun rose, I would have burned the damned thing.
Bo had put his arm around me at some point. I hadn’t noticed until his fingers tightened on my shoulder, squeezing to get my attention. I pushed a few red curls out of my eyes and tilted my head to peer up at him, noting his somber expression.
“It’s your first time killing one, isn’t it?”
I frowned before resuming staring down at the body, avoiding the concern in his gaze.
“You don’t have to beat yourself up over it. The first time is always rough.”
That prompted a surprised, bitter laugh out of me. I kept my voice low, acutely aware of Jack’s sudden scrutiny through the rearview. “Are you kidding? Is that supposed to make me feel better? This guy is
dead,
Bo, and I did it. Me. What did he do to deserve it, other than be different from us?”
Bo’s brows knitted, and he hunkered down over his knees, answering me as quietly as I had him. “Do you really think he was innocent? He was a Sunstriker, Shia. He must have known what he was signing on for.”
I thought about Scott, the Were who had accidentally become infected in a bar fight and been taken in by the Sunstrikers because no one else would have him. Though I hadn’t met him, I’d heard his story when I went up to the Catskills with the rest of the pack—less than a month ago, back when I’d been scratched by the talons of a shifted werewolf. Like me, Scott hadn’t asked for the infection, and I was certain he hadn’t signed on with the Sunstrikers knowing what they were really up to. Would he be press-ganged into the fight against me? Was he one of the Weres working to kill me?
‘Being a victim doesn’t make him innocent.’
A low sound escaped my throat, helpless anger rising at the belt’s attitude and my own inability to decide upon a direction for my moral compass. And what if I didn’t turn into a monster? What if Arnold found a cure? He’d promised he would try. Maybe there was still some hope for me to remain human, even if I was damned for my actions.
‘The mage can’t help you. There is no such spell.’
That made me flinch.
‘You were consumed with thoughts of murder when you left the vampire’s building. You’re suppressing them, but they re still there, hiding in the darkest parts of your mind. You’re committed to this, aren’t you? Stopping the moon-chasers. They hurt you, and they killed that reported Or have you forgotten?’
I shook my head and looked at Bo, torn between rage and anguish. “What if Vic was like me? What if he’d been infected by accident, and was just trying to get by? I’ll never know for sure, and now I don’t even know what we’re going to do with his body. What if he has kids, or a family somewhere? They wouldn’t want to see him like this.”
“They won’t,” Jack said, jerking my attention to the front of the van. Bo sat back as I did, withdrawing his arm. Somehow the loss of his touch made Jack’s words colder, harder to bear. “We’ll be taking him out on the boat and dropping him somewhere offshore. Someone will report him missing, eventually. We took care of the security feeds and cleaned up signs of the fight from the parking lot at The Tease. They’ll find his car, and someone might remember he walked out with some blonde, but there’s very little chance it will ever be connected to the White Hats. Or to you, Shiarra. ”
Though there had been a bit of worry about that in the back of my mind, I hadn’t been concerned about being caught so much as I was about the moral implications of my actions. If Vic had left behind a family, I’d find a way to make it up to them. Somehow.
‘I don’t understand you.’
I don’t get you either
, I thought back to the belt as I closed my eyes.
You’re on my shit list right now, buddy.
It had the gall to laugh at me. ‘
Is that so?’
The rising fury burning in my breast was answer enough.
‘Let me tell you a little story, hunter. Haven’t you ever wondered who I was before I became this hunk of leather and metal?’
My lip curled in response.
‘This isn’t about you, much as you’d like to think you’re such a special snowflake and that it’s all your fault so you can wallow in guilt for the rest of the night. You’re swerving a greater purpose by letting me help you rid the world of these things. I used to be a mage. I lived on the outskirts of Andover. My coven was small, and most of the members were family. We served the local villages as blacksmiths, tanners, and fur-trappers, mostly.
‘Some vampire had already established himself in Boston, but we had little contact with him. We kept to ourselves until he drove a pack of Weres out of Cambridge and into our area. I’m not sure you understand just how much Weres hate magi. They slaughtered most of my family. The few of us who escaped went to petition Max Carlyle—’
That nearly jerked me to my feet. The belt must have been expecting it, because I only managed a slight twitch and a faint sound in my throat before my muscles went rigid against my will.
‘Don’t act so surprised,’ the belt admonished.
I should throw you into the fireplace when I get back to the White Hat hideout, I thought as hard as I could at it. What connection do you have to Max? Why would you want to have anything to do with him?
‘Enough with the dramatics. You’ve met him. You know what he’s like and what he’s capable of. It was custom in those days, and most likely still is today, to petition to the most powerful Other in your region if you wished to seek shelter from or vengeance against another Other. Vampires have never been known for their sense of justice or mercy. Instead of doing something to leash the monsters he had loosed onto my family’s land, he trapped my sister and nearly had me in his hands before the rest of us escaped. With our circle broken, we had little power, no protection, no homes to return to, and no hope of vengeance.’
That confused me. Max worked out of Chicago, not Boston, as far as I knew. And what would he want with a mage?
‘He was driven out of Boston some time ago by Alec Royce. Some other vampire—Ian Taft—runs the northern New England territories now.’
This was all news to me. I couldn’t recall Royce or any of his people ever mentioning this. Shifting impatiently in my seat, I was careful to keep from speaking aloud and drawing Jack or Bo’s attention again, keeping the conversation internal. Somehow, against my better judgment, the belt’s motivations were starting to make a twisted kind of sense, and I was gradually losing my desire to destroy it.
Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why didn’t you try harder to kill Max when I was fighting in Royce’s home?
‘You know as well as I do that you wouldn’t have survived the fight.’
Okay. Good point.
‘I’ve waited this long. I knew you’d have a reason to use me eventually, running in the circles you do. That you’d give me a chance to really work through you. You had to be in a certain mindset and use me to kill—which you did—for me to influence you as much as I do now. It’s made you stronger. Better. A more efficient killer. And once you’ve had enough practice, we can take down the one I really want.’
Well. You had to admire the thing’s work ethic.
‘Your mission hasn’t changed, and neither has mine. If you truly want vengeance, then you won’t deviate from this path, and you’ll let me help you do what needs to be done. It won’t be easy, and it won’t be pretty—but in the end you’ll get what you want, and so will I.’
This put things into a different perspective for me. As angry as I’d been at the belt, it did have a point. I’d never expected this hunt for Chaz and Dillon to be easy, or that there wouldn’t be bloodshed along the way. It didn’t make Vic’s death right, but it did make me less inclined to destroy the belt the minute I could take it off.
It also put some of my other dealings into a new light. Maybe Arnold and Chaz had never gotten along for deeper reasons than I previously had understood. There seemed to be a whole different world of politics and history that they’d kept from me. My ire against the Others was rising again.
Maybe it was time I stopped just using the belt, and took some time to listen to it instead.
‘That would be wise. We’ll be much more effective if we’re not working at odds.’
I considered it. Then, another thought struck me.
What was your name? Is any of your family still alive?
The belt didn’t answer me right away. There were some strange emotions roiling around in my mind, deep down in that place where the belt often took up residence, tickling in the back of my skull. Like me, but not, an alien presence that somehow felt right at home. Once it answered, its voice was the most quiet and subdued I’d ever heard it be.
‘No one has asked me that in a very long time.’
That gave me pause.
I’m sorry. Do you remember?
‘Isaac. My name was Isaac Tanner. Three of us died to fuel the spell that made me into ... this. My father, Abijah, used me to seek vengeance and try to save my sister, Cornelia. He failed, but managed to pass me to another mage before he died. They’re all gone. Dead. All I’ve known is sleep when I am not in use, then the minds of those who wear me, the weapons they wield and the language they use, and the need to fulfill my purpose. There are no dreams for me, no body, no real rest. I am alone now.’
The overwhelming grief it radiated brought the sting of tears to my eyes. I pressed my fingertips to the leather, though I knew the belt itself couldn’t feel my touch—only feel the sensation through my skin.
I’m sorry. You have me now.
I already hated Max Carlyle, but I now knew that, like the belt, I couldn’t rest until I’d found vengeance for Isaac and his family.
Those thoughts stayed with me when we arrived at Jack’s house, as we carried the body in the dead of night to a small boat moored on the docks behind the house. Though I still felt a faint pang of regret when we dropped Vic in the water a couple miles offshore, still tied up in his tarp trappings and now weighted with rocks, I no longer felt that I’d made the wrong decision.
The hunters knew what they were doing. They felt no qualms or regrets about the death of another Other.
From this point forward, neither would I.