“Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. I can’t change anything anyway, so what’s the use?”
Lance’s eyebrows rose again. “Okay, suit yourself.” He lowered the bottle to the floor and leaned back on his elbows, stretching out in front of me like a big cat. He nodded toward the door. “Maybe we could go outside to do some target practice. I’d be curious to see if you’ve taken on Cal’s skill for throwing those things.”
I nodded, pushing all thoughts of Cal away as I reflected back on something Lance had said earlier. “So, this legacy situation, I was told that information would come to me in spurts. I know about the history, Alkaia and her Hunter, but I haven’t gotten the rest.”
Lance pushed himself up to sit. “What do you want to know?”
I motioned to his arm, his bare arm. “Okay, where’s your tattoo?”
Lance chuckled and lifted the sleeve of his shirt to expose his right bicep. It was decorated with a large black tattoo of a wolf, its head rearing, teeth exposed as if it was growling. Its massive body was curled around the bulge of his arm. “We don’t all get it in the same place.”
That made sense. I had gotten glimpses of tattoos poking from underneath collars on some of the other men. Then there were some who had nothing to show at all.
“So, who gives it to you?”
Lance lowered his sleeve. “No one gives it to us, exactly. It’s part of being chosen. When a boy with the Hunter gene is exposed to a werewolf in some shape or form, his mark appears somewhere on his body. It’s always a wolf, usually in different poses, and it can be anywhere—and I mean anywhere—on his body.” He waggled his eyebrows at his last words which had me snickering. “Seriously, there’s a Hunter who—”
I raised my hand for him to stop, my cheeks suddenly growing warm. “I don’t want to know.”
“Fair enough.” Lance took another gulp of his water and wiped his arm across his forehead.
“And what about Candy? Didn’t her family think it was weird that you guys came and snatched her up?”
Lance’s lips curled in a smile. “When we found Candy, her parents were waiting for us. They had hoped that one of their daughters would be a chosen one, a Huntress. They had been expecting us, or at least waiting for us for a while. It isn’t often. In fact, this is the first time in recent history, but sometimes we find one of the old families, the ones who have passed on the legacy, the folklore through generations. Candy’s family knew all about the Hunters—they’d prepared all three of their daughters for it. Candy was the youngest but when we found her, when Jeremy claimed her, she came along willingly. Like everything Candy does, she was more pumped to get down to training than Jer was.” Lance chuckled at the memory.
“Yeah, Candy is a bit bubbly.” I took a sip of my own water. “But why do you have to search for the old families, for the Huntresses? Wouldn’t it make sense to keep the girls close?”
Lance nodded, his face clouding with seriousness, losing all evidence of his usual easy grin. “Yeah, well, they used to be. Cal told you about Alkaia, so you know about the beginning, how it all started. Alkaia and her Hunter had five girls, all destined to become Huntresses. Their Hunters came from different parts of the world, drawn to them, seeking them out with their tattoos. It was more primitive then—they trusted their instinct. The Hunters came and they bonded, and then they fought the beasts. So generation after generation was born into Alkaia’s family, and it grew and grew. All of the Huntresses came from her line, all of the Hunters traveled from outside of it.”
My eyes grew wide. “So what? I’m a descendant of Alkaia?”
Lance nodded. “Yep. Somewhere in your genes is a marker that connects you to her.”
I shook my head slowly. “My mom, she used to tell me these horrible stories about beasts and this woman warrior. Used to scare the crap out of me as a kid. She must have known about the legacy. I just don’t get why she never told me anything to prepare me for it.”
Lance cringed. “We’ve heard that kind of thing over the years. Families protecting their girls. Girls who end up dying at the fangs of Lazarus and his pack because of ignorance.” He sighed. “It’s not their fault. You ever hear about a period known as the Burning Times?”