Blood Prophecy

CHAPTER 29



Hunter


Saturday night

“Grandpa!” I knocked on the door. “I know you’re in there!”

I tried to peer through the peephole even though I knew it was equipped with several layers of safety mechanisms. I also knew the house and lawns were sprayed down with holy water on a daily basis. Grandpa had a barrel of it out in the backyard, attached to a garden hose. He’d made me wash my hair with it until I left for the academy.

I kept pounding on the door. The UV bulbs in the security lights over the porch were so intense I could get a tan standing here, even though it was just past twilight. I gave up before my nose could get sunburned and shoved my key into the lock.

It didn’t fit.

My own grandfather had changed the locks on me.

My stomach dropped as if I were suddenly hollow inside. I knew he was still angry but we were the only family left to each other. He’d always been there for me. He’d been the one to show me how to use my first crossbow. He’d given me my own stake, which he’d whittled himself. He’d even learned to braid my hair, when I was seven years old and pitched a fit when he suggested I cut it short.

And now he’d locked me out.

I could feel dismal about it and stand here trying not to cry, or I could feel dismal about it and pick the damn lock on principle.

No contest.

“This isn’t over, old man,” I said to the security camera fitted into the eaves of the porch roof. I was glad I’d brought my full hunter’s kit with me, just in case. I’d never be able to break the door down since it was outfitted with so many locks, bars, and booby traps. I’d wondered if he might arm them out of spite, but I didn’t think he’d go so far as to call a locksmith.

From the outside, the house looked like any other bungalow on the street, set back against the edge of the woods. The driveway was interlocking brick, the hedges were trimmed neatly, and the garbage was taken out every Wednesday morning at 7:00 a.m. exactly. No one saw the cameras or the sensors, and no one realized the decorative bars on the windows were actually sturdy military-strength steel.

The biggest problem was making sure the neighbors didn’t call the police before recognizing me—especially Mrs. Gormley, who had a crush on Grandpa and spied on him through her blinds. She wore sweaters that looked like doilies, hung curtains that looked like doilies, and brought over casseroles draped in doilies. Grandpa had actually incorporated her into his security plans. So much so, that the side and back doors had way more locking mechanisms since they weren’t being guarded by the Doily Dragon.

It took me a few minutes to defeat the first lock—only three more to go. By the time I was done, my fingers were cramping and my ears hurt from straining to listen to the soft snick of the tumblers. I straightened and stepped inside.

I hadn’t been home since the school year started, since Grandpa had caught me with Quinn, to be precise. He’d filed formal complaints against the academy and Bellwood in particular, for letting vampires onto campus grounds. And he’d refused to speak to me ever since I called him from the hospital after being poisoned by Ms. Dailey—a teacher, not a vampire, something that I pointed out to him repeatedly.

And yet he claimed I was the one who was as stubborn as six mules.

“Grandpa!” He wasn’t in the living room, watching me on the security screens. As I went down the hall, premonition crawled on trembling mouse feet over the back of my neck. The house looked the same. I hadn’t expected it to change; it was just that everything else in my life had undergone such a drastic transformation, it was almost shocking to see the same rugs, the same photos on the wall, the same lumpy clay dinosaur I’d made Grandpa for Christmas one year. The plants in the window were still thriving—I was the one they curled up and died around. Grandpa had a green thumb and grew his own tomatoes every year. They were so big the neighborhood kids liked to climb over the fence to steal them for food fights.

I froze in the doorway to the kitchen. “Grandpa?”

He was slumped at the pine table beside a half-empty bottle of whiskey. The fumes hung on the air. There was gray stubble on his cheeks and his eyes were bleary and bloodshot when he blinked at me. “Kitten?”

I’d never seen him like this before—not after my parents died, not when the League forced him to retire him because of his arthritis, not even when he’d caught me kissing a vampire. I swallowed, feeling all of six years old. I didn’t know what to do. He was supposed to be shouting at me and smashing things, not looking old and uncharacteristically frail. I crouched beside him.

“Grandpa, what are you doing?”

He touched my hair with a massive, trembling hand. I could see the scars on his arms from his numerous battles. “Such a pretty girl,” he mumbled. “And always so smart. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Grandpa.” I stood up to steady him when he started to list to the side, like a giant snowman melting on the first warm day. “I’m going to make you some coffee, okay?”

“Not thirsty.”

“Too bad,” I said, crossing over to fill the coffee pot with water. I doubled back to snatch the bottle out of his hand when he reached for it. “How long have you been like this?”

He shrugged one shoulder petulantly. “A while.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause.” He rubbed his face so thoroughly he nearly pulled his lip up over his nose. “My granddaughter is defiling the Wild family name.”

I turned to spear him with a look, even though he probably wouldn’t remember I’d even been here. “Oh, but being drunk and pouty is an honor?”

“Don’t be smart.”

“Then don’t be stupid.” He cared about blood as much as any vampire I’d ever met. Family lineage was as vital to him as feeding was to Quinn. They were more alike than they knew or would have liked. I took a deep breath. “Grandpa, did something else happen? Quinn and I have been together for nearly two months now, it’s not exactly breaking news.”

“Don’t say his name in this house,” he snapped. “He’s a monster.”

“He’s not,” I said evenly, scooping the coffee grounds into the filter with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Then let me see your neck, little girl.”

I stalked over to him, my temper fraying. I showed him my neck and my wrists for good measure. “Happy now?” I snapped. “Give me a little credit, Grandpa.”

“How’m I supposed to do that? Whole world’s turned upside down. Kieran dropped out to avenge his father and ended up dating a vampire princess, for Christ’s sake. One who killed a girl at a field party, just last week.”

I shook my head. “You don’t know that. Her family says she was framed.” In fact, Lucy had been the one to find both the victim and the royal medallion that pointed to Solange.

“Well, of course they do,” he huffed. “What’s the matter with you, girl? You’re supposed to be my little hunter. Now look at you. Have you been reading those vampire romance books?”

“I’m still a hunter,” I reminded him, choosing to ignore that last bit. “And I know things are changing, Grandpa. But isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t it better that we don’t have to fight our battles on so many fronts now?”

“No,” he slurred. “It’s not.”

“Why not?” I was dangerously close to yelling and I’d never yelled at him in my whole life.

“Don’t you see?” he choked out. “If I accept all vampires aren’t monsters, then I have to admit I might have killed innocent folk. Some of them barely older than you. What does that make me?” his voice broke. “I’ll tell you. One of the monsters.” He drained the whiskey out of the bottom of his glass—I’d forgotten to remove it with the bottle. “All I ever wanted was to keep you safe.”

I stared at him, stunned. The last thing I’d expected out of my grandfather was existential angst and an identity crisis. “Oh, Grandpa.”

He just rested his head on his arm and started to snore.

I don’t know how long I stood there, feeling sad and sorry. I couldn’t pity him when he was awake, drunk or sober. I could only pity him now, when it wouldn’t hurt what was left of his pride. I got a blanket from the couch and tucked it around his shoulders and when I’d made him as comfortable as I could, I sat at his desk and called Chloe. “I’m in.”

It was probably wrong to take advantage of my grandfather’s drunken stupor, but he was exactly the kind of disenchanted Helios-Ra hunter I would target if I was Dawn. I didn’t think for one second that he’d know about her side deal with the human victims but he wouldn’t have to. All that would matter to him was that the objective was simple and familiar: kill vampires. All of them. And someone like Dawn would know that.

Feeling slightly ill, I sat in front of his computer and tried to concentrate on what Chloe was telling me to do. It was simple enough to crack his codes, they were all related either to my birthday or my grade point average. He never bothered with computer security the way he did with physical safety. Any seriously tricky embedded codes and encryption inside the information I stole, Chloe could deal with. I slipped the data stick she’d given me into the port and downloaded most of Grandpa’s in-box and files.

When I was finished, I went back to the kitchen to check on him. If he stayed in that uncomfortable position much longer his back would seize up completely. I set a cup of strong black coffee on the table by his nose, waiting for the scent to wake him up. It never failed.

He opened one eye grumpily. “Did you stake that damn vampire yet?”

“It’s considered bad taste to kill your boyfriend, Grandpa,” I replied as mildly as I could.

“Bah.” He glowered up at me. “He came to the door.”

I blinked, shocked. “Quinn came here?”

“Wanted me to call you,” he grumbled. “As if I don’t know what’s best for my own granddaughter.”

Quinn was clearly crazy. And sweet. It amazed me how sweet he was beneath the smirk. “What did you do?” I asked, half-afraid of the answer.

“I didn’t stake him,” he replied.

“But did you try?”

“Well, of course I did. I’m a hunter, he’s a vampire. One of us has to remember the rules.”

Since Quinn had texted me just before dawn, I knew he was safe. He’d conveniently managed to forget to tell me about his little excursion into insanity. “Just drink your coffee,” I said, my mind whirling. “I don’t want to leave you until I know you won’t fall over and break a hip.”

Just as I’d planned, he sat straight up, insulted. “I’m strong as an ox, missy.”

“And you kind of smell like one,” I retorted briskly. “How long have you been sitting here feeling sorry for yourself? Since Quinn dropped by?” I knew if I showed the slightest trace of concern or worry now that he wasn’t quite so drunk, he’d act like a wounded bear with a thorn in his paw.

He scowled. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I live here,” I reminded him. “Despite your little trick with the lock.”

He had the grace to redden slightly. “I was mad,” he said defensively. “I still am.”

“I know.” I bent to kiss his cheek. “But you’re wrong so you’re going to have to get over it.”

“You’re not welcome here until you come to your senses.”

“I know that too,” I said, hoisting my knapsack over my shoulder and heading to the front door.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, even though he’d basically just told me to get out.

“I have class,” I answered, hiding a smile. “And I’m not cleaning up your mess,” I added. “So you’d better get to it before Mrs. Gormley comes over and does it for you.”

“That woman will cover the place in doilies,” he grumbled.

“Exactly,” I said. “And I’ll encourage her.”

“Hunter,” he said as I reached for the handle. He sounded more like himself, gruff and battle-scarred. “You’re a good girl,” he added quietly. “But you’re on the wrong side of this war.”

“I’m not fighting a war, Grandpa,” I returned, just as quietly. “I’m just trying to survive high school.” I glanced over my shoulder. “I’ll check the perimeter,” I added, hoping to remind him that I was still the same girl he’d raised. I’d been checking the perimeter before leaving the house since I was twelve.

I had to stop on the front stoop and take a deep breath. I waved at Mrs. Gormley when I saw her silhouette cross the window. Her blinds twitched in response. I crossed the lawn to the property line and walked the fence. It was made of whitethorn, like all traditional stakes, and soaked in holy water. There were stakes and daggers set into the post at regular intervals for easy access. He’d added pouches of Hypnos powder since I’d left. I circled around to the back.

There was enough glow cast by the outside sensor lights to see the pale shadow on the edge of the woods. I shot my crossbow without hesitation. Grandpa had made enough enemies among vampires that we never took chances.

Turned out there wasn’t quite enough light to notice, until it was too late, that I was shooting my own boyfriend.

And I had really good aim.

Luckily, he had equally good reflexes, not to mention vampire speed.

As my arrow sliced through the cold air toward his heart, he stepped neatly and swiftly out of the way. He turned to the side completely, making himself a smaller target. After the arrow landed harmlessly in the woods, he ran toward me with that mad, charming grin that always made me feel like I should be blushing.

He was about to jump the fence when I reached him.

“Don’t touch it,” I said, moving to block him from view in case my grandfather happened to glance out the window. Even half-drunk, he’d come out roaring. “It’s soaked in holy water.”

Quinn’s hands recoiled from the fence and he let me nudge him into the privacy of the woods once I’d hopped over it.

“You came to see my grandfather?” I smacked him in the arm. “Do you have a death wish?”

His expression turned serious. “Hunter, do you think I don’t see how it kills you that he’s shut you out?”

“And you thought getting yourself dusted by my grandpa would help?” I asked incredulously.

“He’s an old man,” he drawled. “Not exactly a threat.”

“He’s a decorated vampire hunter. Do you have any idea how many medals he has?”

Quinn looked briefly distracted. “There are Helios-Ra medals?”

“Yes.” I poked him in the chest. “So be careful.”

His hand closed over mine, cool fingers wrapping around my wrist. I know he could feel my pulse flutter in reaction. He grinned wolfishly.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Solange overthrew the monarchy,” he said, sounding as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “So we get a few nights off to patrol while they talk treaties and blood debts.” He shook his head, longish hair falling into eyes as blue as a summer lake. “Not quite how I’d want to spend my night off, especially since I can think of better ways to pass the time.”

He crowded me against a tree, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Chloe told me you were ditching class when I called your room. Hot.”

I laughed despite myself, even as he bent his head and stole my breath with a slow, deep kiss. I kissed him back, clutching his shirt and raising up on my tiptoes. His hand splayed across my lower back as the kiss went open-mouthed and desperate. It was always like this between us, like two stars colliding. We were all heat and light.

And then he pulled back abruptly. I immediately reached for the crossbow, now propped against the tree by my leg. “What?” I mouthed silently.

The cloak of the predator settled over him, or else the humanness he wore like a costume peeled away. I could never quite be sure. He turned his head but his body stayed right where it was, pressed against mine. I shifted, knowing exactly what he was doing. It was biologically impossible for a Drake not to make themselves into a shield. It didn’t matter, I could shoot over his shoulder if I had to.

His pupils dilated, the black edging out that icy mysterious blue. His cheekbones looked like they might cut right through his skin. “Hel-Blar coming this way,” he murmured. “They’re after something.” His nostrils flared. His lips lifted off his fangs, now poking out of his gums. “This way,” he said sharply, taking me by the hand and pulling me behind him.

We scaled the neighbor’s fence instead of my grandfather’s and cut between the houses to the road. “He’s fine,” Quinn said when I paused under one of the windows. “He’s in the shower.”

Relieved, I followed him to the sidewalk. The streetlights glowed with amber light. A car passed us. I squinted, trying to see what it was Quinn had smelled, besides rotting mushrooms. I had to jog to keep up with him. Several houses down, near the corner, I finally saw what he saw.

A body sprawled at the edge of someone’s garden, half-tucked behind a parked car.

My jog turned into a sprint. Quinn got there first, then recoiled. A woman lay half-conscious, blood pouring from her throat. There were raw scrapes and bruises on her wrists. I pulled a bandanna out of my pocket and pressed it against her wound. She swallowed, eyelids fluttering weakly.

“Vamp . . . ire . . . ,” she moaned.

“A vampire didn’t do that,” Quinn disagreed immediately. “There are way too many scents on her. ”

“She was left on the street of a well-known vampire hunter,” I pointed out, thinking of what my grandfather would have done if he’d found her. “That’s not a coincidence.” I tucked us deeper into the shadows of the hedge. The last thing we needed was for someone to look out their window and call the cops. Or turn vigilante. Thank God, we were out of the range of Mrs. Gormley’s binoculars.

“You wait for your unit,” he said darkly as I reached for my cell phone. “And I’ll go deal with the Hel-Blar before they join the party.”

When I glanced up, he was already gone.

“Help is coming. ” I pressed as hard as I could on her neck. “Try to stay with me. Can you tell me what happened?” Her hands twitched. “Did you say a vampire did this to you?”

She moved her head, as if trying to shake it. “Vampires. Humans too,” she wheezed, pale as the snow around her. She shivered as shock set in. “Caves.” She shivered more violently. I tried to staunch the blood seeping faster through the bandanna. “Sun tattoo.”

Sun tattoo.

Helios-Ra agents had sun tattoos.

I felt hot and cold all over, that icy feeling of dread tingling under my skin again.

“Was it Dawn?” I asked. “Someone named Dawn?”

The woman didn’t answer me. She’d already passed out. I didn’t have time to try to revive her and press her for more details before a dark minivan with a Baby on Board sticker pulled up to the curb. That sticker worked better as subterfuge than anything else the League had previously implemented. No one looked twice as they drove by. The agents left the front door open to block us.

“Status,” the man asked, his bald head gleaming under the streetlights.

“Neck wound,” I said, getting out of the way. “Not Hel-Blar.” I couldn’t smell anything on her and more importantly, neither had Quinn.

I didn’t mention the sun tattoo.

I didn’t know who else to trust anymore.

The other agent pulled on hospital gloves before looking at the messy wound under the blood-soaked bandanna. “We need to hurry,” she said. They lifted her into the van and made a U-turn without another word.

I watched them drive away and didn’t move until Quinn’s wild laugh echoed from the woods, startling me out of my thoughts. I darted between the houses, back to the woods, and followed the sounds of fighting. I broke out of a thick clump of trees to the edge of the river, calculating escape routes and trajectory angles. Someone had to. Quinn had clearly never heard of procedure. He was fighting like he always did; all instinct and mayhem.

There were two Hel-Blar closing in, with a third on the crest of a hill behind him, the steady hum of the narrow waterfall masking his movements. He was the easiest to take out from my current position. A single arrow turned him into ashes. I only had two left, having wasted one shooting at Quinn. I also had half a dozen stakes, several daggers, and Hypnos secured in my cuff.

Quinn had led them into the river, the frigid water splashing around his knees. I knew why he did it: to cover the scents of battle so we wouldn’t attract any more undead visitors. I braced my back against a tree where I couldn’t be surprised from behind and lifted my crossbow, another arrow at the ready.

Quinn kicked a Hel-Blar so hard in the stomach she flew backward into the waterfall. The other clawed at him, saliva dripping from his sharpened fangs. The female scrambled back to her feet and I took aim but it was impossible to get a clear shot. Quinn and the other Hel-Blar were fighting too quickly and unpredictably. I’d have to get in closer.

“Don’t you dare!” Quinn shouted when I pushed away from the tree.

I ignored him, of course. It was the only way to deal with outright crazy Drake martyrdom. Lucy taught me that. I crept closer, keeping my footing steady in the icy snow. “Quit hogging the monsters,” I shouted back. “I’m ready!”

He pivoted sharply, swearing, and elbowed the Hel-Blar nearest to me in the jugular, then the forehead, and lastly, the sternum. He did it in such quick succession there was no defense. The Hel-Blar sailed backward, landing with an icy splash at my feet. I staked him quickly, not wanting to waste an arrow. I used my heel to drive the stake through his rib cage and into his heart. He crumbled to ashes, drifting away on the sluggish current. Quinn dispatched the last vampire with an antique stake I was sure he’d stolen off a Helios-Ra agent somewhere along the way.

Silence returned to the snow-dusted forest. Quinn rinsed his hands in the river, running his wet fingers through his hair. “Well, that was fun,” he said, flipping his now-damp hair off his face. Adrenaline made his smile even more dangerous than usual. I actually felt seared by it, even several feet away. He caught my eye.

“Wanna make out again?”