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For some people, comfort came from a hot cup of coffee and a warm blanket wrapped tight against the cold. For the hunter, it had always been adrenaline, the thrill of a fight, a blade in her hand, and a smile that promised death to the wicked.
Anyone else would have turned back two miles ago when the sun still hung low in the sky and they could see the trails ahead clearly. In the misty rain and fading light the deep furrows in the ground were almost invisible, almost. Dani stopped at a tree torn in half and looked for tracks. For months a monster had been slicing its way through hikers, and she was here to stop it.
Exhilaration pulsed through her. She hadn’t felt this alive in a long time, not since Alabama and the fire and everything that followed. She was doing her job, not looking back over her shoulder for signs she was being followed.
Most hunters didn’t tussle with the talented, humans with unique abilities and internal reservoirs of power and magic. The problem being that when they went bad, they turned into something else and evolved into monsters. Like the one that had murdered her partner, Graham, in front of her.
She’d needed a run-of-the-mill job, and tracking down a talented gone wrong was right up her alley. Dani chuckled darkly. Hunting a monster in the rainy
woods—totally normal way to decompress from too much stress.
An inhuman screech cracked through the air, and she stopped short. Dani looked like Mortimer’s type: young, dark haired, and alone. Then again, the shotgun probably ruined the look. She licked at her lips, trying not to let the grin threatening at the edge of her mouth take over. He wanted her alone and afraid, and off the beaten path in the woods. She’d give him that to look him in the eye and be sure everything that had been human in him had burned away. Then she could blow him away and leave his bones for whatever animals were living up here. Talented this far gone had a habit of more less dissolving when you killed them, proving they were more monster than human.
As she slinked through the trees, her thoughts drifted to the monster who had ripped the life from Graham. Spectre. He was as old and as nasty as they came. Far as she could tell, far as every hunter she knew could tell, Spectre’s ass just couldn’t be killed. But Mortimer? Him, she could put down, keep someone else from feeling what she endured each morning when she woke up and her partner was still dead.
“Little girl get lost?” a hoarse voice croaked from behind her.
Dani stopped in her tracks. Every muscle quivered, the moment between action and inaction. The rain coated her skin in a cool blanket. She counted her heartbeats. One. She held the shotgun steady in her hands, and she shifted her weight to her back foot. Two. She pivoted, swinging the barrel up so she could look right down the sight. Three. Stock braced against her shoulder, she looked into the dark eyes of Mortimer Byrant as he growled at her. Where irises should have been, only dark pools of cold fire remained. There was nothing human left inside them. Her finger
curled over the trigger, and she bared her teeth in a vicious smile.
“Oh, sugar. I’m not lost.”
The modified shotgun with its riot magazine of ten rounds kicked like a mule. She racked it as his chest exploded in a spray of crimson. He snarled as the impact threw him back. One of his clenched fists transformed into a deadly blade of bone as he lurched back to his feet. He charged at her, but Dani was waiting. She fired again, racking another round into the chamber as he was thrown backwards again.
Dani stepped forward with every shot as the slugs tore his body apart and forced him back, step by step. That was the way she wanted it—keep him at a distance, far enough away he couldn’t touch her, close enough that each slug tore him more to pieces. Five rounds in and he hit the dirt. Six and the light went out of his eyes. But some lessons got learned early. You always kill them a little bit more. She kept firing until the shotgun clicked empty and nothing remained but a mass of flesh and bone sinking into the mud.
The thing that had been his arm, or a weapon, or both, didn’t shift back as he died. Happened that way sometimes if a talented was corrupted enough. Dani smiled, a predator’s smile, more to warn things off than to invite them in. It took a few minutes, but as his body cooled, the power inside him ate away at the flesh. She spat on the ground next to it as it smoked away, leaving a bed of grey ash.
Trekking back down the path took forever, the dark and the rain combining to make a treacherous hike back to the truck. She ducked inside and settled the shotgun onto the rack behind the empty passenger seat. Graham’s seat. Memories of his eyes going dark surrounded by fire washed over her, and she forced them away. While killing Mortimer had felt good, it
hadn’t been enough. Each monster she felled only reminded her of the one she couldn’t kill, the one whose blood she ached for. She couldn’t will Graham alive again, or erase his murder, but she could hunt down the son of a bitch that had done the deed.
She had to stop filling the void with the death of other monsters. It was time to stop running from Spectre.
But how do I kill a necromancer? Dani had worked every lead, talked to anyone who claimed to have any information, everyone, except for the one man she needed to speak to. A single name kept coming back up who might have details on something to help. Just so happened it was the same person she didn’t want to face.
Joe’s Grill, the last hunter hub she hadn’t checked in with, was three hundred miles away, and his name the final one on her list. At least she hadn’t done so since before Alabama when Spectre had murdered Graham in front of Dani’s eyes while she was helpless to do anything. But there were no more options. He might have the intel on Spectre she needed, like how to kill him for good.
She had to talk to Joe.
It was time to go home.
With the engine cooling after a four-hour drive and last night’s hunt still vivid in her mind, Dani couldn’t seem to make herself get out of the truck. She should have known no matter how far she ran, she would always end up back here, where it all started, before Spectre, or losing Graham, or wraiths watching her from the shadows.
Joe’s Grill didn’t look like much, but he swore he liked it that way. It was a squat two-story building stained by rain and time, with peeling green paint. The parking lot was a wide expanse of cracked pavement that only accented the sign which never wanted to stay lit, no matter how many times they replaced the bulbs.
She’d been avoiding coming back. Somehow, walking through that door and talking to Joe about what had happened meant admitting Graham was really gone, and she didn’t know if she was ready. More so, she didn’t know if she would ever be fit to walk into the Grill without the most important person in her world pushing her along.
The minute she walked in solo there’d be questions from whoever was in town because there were always questions. Word spread fast among hunters, gossipy things they were. They’d want details on what happened. Dani didn’t owe anyone but Joe an explanation, and the questions she knew he had waiting for her were terrifying. Graham was the brains, and she was the muscle. It was her job to protect him, the most
With the engine cooling after a four-hour drive and last night’s hunt still vivid in her mind, Dani couldn’t seem to make herself get out of the truck. She should have known no matter how far she ran, she would always end up back here, where it all started, before Spectre, or losing Graham, or wraiths watching her from the shadows.
Joe’s Grill didn’t look like much, but he swore he liked it that way. It was a squat two-story building stained by rain and time, with peeling green paint. The parking lot was a wide expanse of cracked pavement that only accented the sign which never wanted to stay lit, no matter how many times they replaced the bulbs.
She’d been avoiding coming back. Somehow, walking through that door and talking to Joe about what had happened meant admitting Graham was really gone, and she didn’t know if she was ready. More so, she didn’t know if she would ever be fit to walk into the Grill without the most important person in her world pushing her along.
The minute she walked in solo there’d be questions from whoever was in town because there were always questions. Word spread fast among hunters, gossipy things they were. They’d want details on what happened. Dani didn’t owe anyone but Joe an explanation, and the questions she knew he had waiting for her were terrifying. Graham was the brains, and she was the muscle. It was her job to protect him, the most important job she’d ever had, and she’d fucked it up. Now he was gone, and she didn’t know how to look Joe in the eye and say that.
If there’d been any other way…another hunter, a talented she could ask? Hell, she would’ve pulled out a spirit board and spoken to the dead if she thought it would help. But Joe was the only one. He was the most connected person on the East Coast, maybe in the whole damned country. He took in strays like Graham and Dani and added them to a network of informants and hunters, trained them in this life. Facing a firing squad sounded easier than admitting to him she had let Graham die.
Her fingers tapped out a staccato beat on the steering wheel. Inside the truck there were plenty of wards that kept her safe. She took a deep breath and cracked the door, sliding onto the pavement. She crossed the parking lot and wished it didn’t feel haunted here. Months of avoiding anything that reminded her of him, and now she was in a place where he lingered everywhere. A ghost she couldn’t hunt.
Being outside raised the hackles at the back of her neck, and Dani fought the urge to look over her shoulder. Nobody followed her, not this time. She grabbed at the amulets under her tank top, glad for the bruja in New Orleans who had been willing to trade some powerful mojo for taking care of a few spirits. Anything and everything to protect herself from Spectre and his pets.
Walking inside, memories crashed over her in a wave that stole her breath. It made it bittersweet, hard to swallow the pain and still taste the pleasure.
Joe’s was somewhere between a saloon, a restaurant, and a halfway house. It was dimly lit, with a dining room, bar, and full kitchen. A dozen scarred wooden tables with mismatched chairs that had no real
With the engine cooling after a four-hour drive and last night’s hunt still vivid in her mind, Dani couldn’t seem to make herself get out of the truck. She should have known no matter how far she ran, she would always end up back here, where it all started, before Spectre, or losing Graham, or wraiths watching her from the shadows.
Joe’s Grill didn’t look like much, but he swore he liked it that way. It was a squat two-story building stained by rain and time, with peeling green paint. The parking lot was a wide expanse of cracked pavement that only accented the sign which never wanted to stay lit, no matter how many times they replaced the bulbs.
She’d been avoiding coming back. Somehow, walking through that door and talking to Joe about what had happened meant admitting Graham was really gone, and she didn’t know if she was ready. More so, she didn’t know if she would ever be fit to walk into the Grill without the most important person in her world pushing her along.
The minute she walked in solo there’d be questions from whoever was in town because there were always questions. Word spread fast among hunters, gossipy things they were. They’d want details on what happened. Dani didn’t owe anyone but Joe an explanation, and the questions she knew he had waiting for her were terrifying. Graham was the brains, and she was the muscle. It was her job to protect him, the most important job she’d ever had, and she’d fucked it up. Now he was gone, and she didn’t know how to look Joe in the eye and say that.
If there’d been any other way…another hunter, a talented she could ask? Hell, she would’ve pulled out a spirit board and spoken to the dead if she thought it would help. But Joe was the only one. He was the most connected person on the East Coast, maybe in the whole damned country. He took in strays like Graham and Dani and added them to a network of informants and hunters, trained them in this life. Facing a firing squad sounded easier than admitting to him she had let Graham die.
Her fingers tapped out a staccato beat on the steering wheel. Inside the truck there were plenty of wards that kept her safe. She took a deep breath and cracked the door, sliding onto the pavement. She crossed the parking lot and wished it didn’t feel haunted here. Months of avoiding anything that reminded her of him, and now she was in a place where he lingered everywhere. A ghost she couldn’t hunt.
Being outside raised the hackles at the back of her neck, and Dani fought the urge to look over her shoulder. Nobody followed her, not this time. She grabbed at the amulets under her tank top, glad for the bruja in New Orleans who had been willing to trade some powerful mojo for taking care of a few spirits. Anything and everything to protect herself from Spectre and his pets.
Walking inside, memories crashed over her in a wave that stole her breath. It made it bittersweet, hard to swallow the pain and still taste the pleasure.
Joe’s was somewhere between a saloon, a restaurant, and a halfway house. It was dimly lit, with a dining room, bar, and full kitchen. A dozen scarred wooden tables with mismatched chairs that had no real homes sat to the right. On the left was a pair of threadbare pool tables and a spot where hunters, who needed to crash or hide, could catch a few Zs. It smelled like alcohol and cooking grease, gun oil, smoke, and leather.
She sighed and her breath trembled in her chest. It was so easy to look at any part of this room and see Graham. At the pool tables, he was teaching her how to hustle before she was legal to drink; at the tables, running down jobs and figuring out what was worth their time; and at the bar where Dani met him so many years ago.
Her chest ached, and she had to blink to keep tears from spilling over. Hunters didn’t cry, not where anybody could see anyhow. She fisted her hands inside the pockets of her leather jacket and decided to pretend that being here didn’t rip her heart apart.
“Dani!” Joe’s voice boomed from behind the bar, and it pulled her from dark thoughts.
She forced a smile, even if she didn’t want to, because it was Joe. At six-foot-four, he looked like a grizzly bear, with short hair and broad features. His hard expression made it appear as though he might tear your head off, but he was more of a father than anyone else in this screwed-up world. Joe’s whole face lit up at the sight of her, and she almost started crying after all.
“Aww, Firecracker.” Joe clucked at her and came around the bar to wrap her in a vise-tight hug. She leaned into the embrace before sniffling and pulling back.
“Hey, Joe.” Her voice cracked, going high and weak for a moment before recovering. She wiped at her eyes with a small sigh and shook her head.
“Come take a seat, darlin’. You’re too skinny again.”
With the engine cooling after a four-hour drive and last night’s hunt still vivid in her mind, Dani couldn’t seem to make herself get out of the truck. She should have known no matter how far she ran, she would always end up back here, where it all started, before Spectre, or losing Graham, or wraiths watching her from the shadows.
Joe’s Grill didn’t look like much, but he swore he liked it that way. It was a squat two-story building stained by rain and time, with peeling green paint. The parking lot was a wide expanse of cracked pavement that only accented the sign which never wanted to stay lit, no matter how many times they replaced the bulbs.
She’d been avoiding coming back. Somehow, walking through that door and talking to Joe about what had happened meant admitting Graham was really gone, and she didn’t know if she was ready. More so, she didn’t know if she would ever be fit to walk into the Grill without the most important person in her world pushing her along.
The minute she walked in solo there’d be questions from whoever was in town because there were always questions. Word spread fast among hunters, gossipy things they were. They’d want details on what happened. Dani didn’t owe anyone but Joe an explanation, and the questions she knew he had waiting for her were terrifying. Graham was the brains, and she was the muscle. It was her job to protect him, the most important job she’d ever had, and she’d fucked it up. Now he was gone, and she didn’t know how to look Joe in the eye and say that.
If there’d been any other way…another hunter, a talented she could ask? Hell, she would’ve pulled out a spirit board and spoken to the dead if she thought it would help. But Joe was the only one. He was the most connected person on the East Coast, maybe in the whole damned country. He took in strays like Graham and Dani and added them to a network of informants and hunters, trained them in this life. Facing a firing squad sounded easier than admitting to him she had let Graham die.
Her fingers tapped out a staccato beat on the steering wheel. Inside the truck there were plenty of wards that kept her safe. She took a deep breath and cracked the door, sliding onto the pavement. She crossed the parking lot and wished it didn’t feel haunted here. Months of avoiding anything that reminded her of him, and now she was in a place where he lingered everywhere. A ghost she couldn’t hunt.
Being outside raised the hackles at the back of her neck, and Dani fought the urge to look over her shoulder. Nobody followed her, not this time. She grabbed at the amulets under her tank top, glad for the bruja in New Orleans who had been willing to trade some powerful mojo for taking care of a few spirits. Anything and everything to protect herself from Spectre and his pets.
Walking inside, memories crashed over her in a wave that stole her breath. It made it bittersweet, hard to swallow the pain and still taste the pleasure.
Joe’s was somewhere between a saloon, a restaurant, and a halfway house. It was dimly lit, with a dining room, bar, and full kitchen. A dozen scarred wooden tables with mismatched chairs that had no real homes sat to the right. On the left was a pair of threadbare pool tables and a spot where hunters, who needed to crash or hide, could catch a few Zs. It smelled like alcohol and cooking grease, gun oil, smoke, and leather.
She sighed and her breath trembled in her chest. It was so easy to look at any part of this room and see Graham. At the pool tables, he was teaching her how to hustle before she was legal to drink; at the tables, running down jobs and figuring out what was worth their time; and at the bar where Dani met him so many years ago.
Her chest ached, and she had to blink to keep tears from spilling over. Hunters didn’t cry, not where anybody could see anyhow. She fisted her hands inside the pockets of her leather jacket and decided to pretend that being here didn’t rip her heart apart.
“Dani!” Joe’s voice boomed from behind the bar, and it pulled her from dark thoughts.
She forced a smile, even if she didn’t want to, because it was Joe. At six-foot-four, he looked like a grizzly bear, with short hair and broad features. His hard expression made it appear as though he might tear your head off, but he was more of a father than anyone else in this screwed-up world. Joe’s whole face lit up at the sight of her, and she almost started crying after all.
“Aww, Firecracker.” Joe clucked at her and came around the bar to wrap her in a vise-tight hug. She leaned into the embrace before sniffling and pulling back.
“Hey, Joe.” Her voice cracked, going high and weak for a moment before recovering. She wiped at her eyes with a small sigh and shook her head.
“Come take a seat, darlin’. You’re too skinny again.”
“Well, some bacon cheese fries wouldn’t be out of the question.” She smiled and followed him back to the bar. Joe slid her a beer. Questions swirled in his eyes, and she knew he deserved answers, but Dani wasn’t sure she had the ones he was looking for.
“Already put the order in. Saw ya pull up in that old junker—”
“Delilah is not a junker—”
“And figured it was only a matter of time until you made it in.” He smiled, warm and sympathetic. “Shouldn’t have taken you this long to come see me, huh?”
Dani let out a stalled breath and shuddered. She had been ready for the blame and the anger, and now there was neither. The weight in her chest broke up just a little. Not enough to fade away, but it made breathing easier. So instead of answering, she sipped at her beer and attempted to concentrate on why she was here and on the fact that Joe was right. Graham would have kicked her ass if he’d been alive, or tried to anyway.
“It wasn’t on purpose.” She swallowed and looked at Joe, unsure of what to say.
“Hey. I noticed.” He cocked his head. “Just don’t make it a habit, yeah? I don’t adopt strays for my health, ya know?” He winked, and Dani shook her head.
“I’ll try. Hell, I wouldn’t even be here, but you’re my last best hope.”
“Stroking my ego will only get you everything.” Joe grinned.
“You said you found something? Because nobody else has jack shit.” Dani took another long drink from her beer. She watched him, trying to read every shift of expression for any information.
With the engine cooling after a four-hour drive and last night’s hunt still vivid in her mind, Dani couldn’t seem to make herself get out of the truck. She should have known no matter how far she ran, she would always end up back here, where it all started, before Spectre, or losing Graham, or wraiths watching her from the shadows.
Joe’s Grill didn’t look like much, but he swore he liked it that way. It was a squat two-story building stained by rain and time, with peeling green paint. The parking lot was a wide expanse of cracked pavement that only accented the sign which never wanted to stay lit, no matter how many times they replaced the bulbs.
She’d been avoiding coming back. Somehow, walking through that door and talking to Joe about what had happened meant admitting Graham was really gone, and she didn’t know if she was ready. More so, she didn’t know if she would ever be fit to walk into the Grill without the most important person in her world pushing her along.
The minute she walked in solo there’d be questions from whoever was in town because there were always questions. Word spread fast among hunters, gossipy things they were. They’d want details on what happened. Dani didn’t owe anyone but Joe an explanation, and the questions she knew he had waiting for her were terrifying. Graham was the brains, and she was the muscle. It was her job to protect him, the most important job she’d ever had, and she’d fucked it up. Now he was gone, and she didn’t know how to look Joe in the eye and say that.
If there’d been any other way…another hunter, a talented she could ask? Hell, she would’ve pulled out a spirit board and spoken to the dead if she thought it would help. But Joe was the only one. He was the most connected person on the East Coast, maybe in the whole damned country. He took in strays like Graham and Dani and added them to a network of informants and hunters, trained them in this life. Facing a firing squad sounded easier than admitting to him she had let Graham die.
Her fingers tapped out a staccato beat on the steering wheel. Inside the truck there were plenty of wards that kept her safe. She took a deep breath and cracked the door, sliding onto the pavement. She crossed the parking lot and wished it didn’t feel haunted here. Months of avoiding anything that reminded her of him, and now she was in a place where he lingered everywhere. A ghost she couldn’t hunt.
Being outside raised the hackles at the back of her neck, and Dani fought the urge to look over her shoulder. Nobody followed her, not this time. She grabbed at the amulets under her tank top, glad for the bruja in New Orleans who had been willing to trade some powerful mojo for taking care of a few spirits. Anything and everything to protect herself from Spectre and his pets.
Walking inside, memories crashed over her in a wave that stole her breath. It made it bittersweet, hard to swallow the pain and still taste the pleasure.
Joe’s was somewhere between a saloon, a restaurant, and a halfway house. It was dimly lit, with a dining room, bar, and full kitchen. A dozen scarred wooden tables with mismatched chairs that had no real homes sat to the right. On the left was a pair of threadbare pool tables and a spot where hunters, who needed to crash or hide, could catch a few Zs. It smelled like alcohol and cooking grease, gun oil, smoke, and leather.
She sighed and her breath trembled in her chest. It was so easy to look at any part of this room and see Graham. At the pool tables, he was teaching her how to hustle before she was legal to drink; at the tables, running down jobs and figuring out what was worth their time; and at the bar where Dani met him so many years ago.
Her chest ached, and she had to blink to keep tears from spilling over. Hunters didn’t cry, not where anybody could see anyhow. She fisted her hands inside the pockets of her leather jacket and decided to pretend that being here didn’t rip her heart apart.
“Dani!” Joe’s voice boomed from behind the bar, and it pulled her from dark thoughts.
She forced a smile, even if she didn’t want to, because it was Joe. At six-foot-four, he looked like a grizzly bear, with short hair and broad features. His hard expression made it appear as though he might tear your head off, but he was more of a father than anyone else in this screwed-up world. Joe’s whole face lit up at the sight of her, and she almost started crying after all.
“Aww, Firecracker.” Joe clucked at her and came around the bar to wrap her in a vise-tight hug. She leaned into the embrace before sniffling and pulling back.
“Hey, Joe.” Her voice cracked, going high and weak for a moment before recovering. She wiped at her eyes with a small sigh and shook her head.
“Come take a seat, darlin’. You’re too skinny again.”
“Well, some bacon cheese fries wouldn’t be out of the question.” She smiled and followed him back to the bar. Joe slid her a beer. Questions swirled in his eyes, and she knew he deserved answers, but Dani wasn’t sure she had the ones he was looking for.
“Already put the order in. Saw ya pull up in that old junker—”
“Delilah is not a junker—”
“And figured it was only a matter of time until you made it in.” He smiled, warm and sympathetic. “Shouldn’t have taken you this long to come see me, huh?”
Dani let out a stalled breath and shuddered. She had been ready for the blame and the anger, and now there was neither. The weight in her chest broke up just a little. Not enough to fade away, but it made breathing easier. So instead of answering, she sipped at her beer and attempted to concentrate on why she was here and on the fact that Joe was right. Graham would have kicked her ass if he’d been alive, or tried to anyway.
“It wasn’t on purpose.” She swallowed and looked at Joe, unsure of what to say.
“Hey. I noticed.” He cocked his head. “Just don’t make it a habit, yeah? I don’t adopt strays for my health, ya know?” He winked, and Dani shook her head.
“I’ll try. Hell, I wouldn’t even be here, but you’re my last best hope.”
“Stroking my ego will only get you everything.” Joe grinned.
“You said you found something? Because nobody else has jack shit.” Dani took another long drink from her beer. She watched him, trying to read every shift of expression for any information.
His smile faded, turning grim, determined. From under the bar he pulled out a bin filled with folders. He rifled through them before pulling one out and dropping the box out of sight. Joe looked at the folder and then shifted his gaze back to Dani.
“You’re sure about this?”
“He killed Graham.” Dani could hear the way her voice went flat and cold, hard as iron. “We don’t let him live.”
“Good.” Joe nodded and slid the folder across the bar with two fingers.
Behind him a bell chimed from the kitchen, and he turned to grab Dani’s order, leaving her alone with the best information she was likely to get. She stared at the file. If she opened it, there would be no turning back. Either it’d have what she needed, or she’d spend the rest of her life playing trial and error with a monster that wouldn’t stay dead.
Talented were human, mostly. But some of them went bad, and when they did, everyone suffered. Spectre was proof enough of that, staring her in the face. He was a necromancer who might as well have been the bogeyman in the damn flesh, so far as the hunting community was concerned. He’d murdered Graham and laughed while he did it. He deserved to die in the most permanent sense.
Good thing she killed things like him, professionally.
Her stomach growled as Joe slid a heaping plate of food in front of her. She pushed the folder to the side to focus on lunch. Grease-soaked fries, cheese so hot it burned her mouth, and chunks of real bacon was the perfect remedy for too many hours behind the wheel. She cleared half the plate before stopping to take a drink, the angry edge of hunger sated.
important job she’d ever had, and she’d fucked it up. Now he was gone, and she didn’t know how to look Joe in the eye and say that.
If there’d been any other way…another hunter, a talented she could ask? Hell, she would’ve pulled out a spirit board and spoken to the dead if she thought it would help. But Joe was the only one. He was the most connected person on the East Coast, maybe in the whole damned country. He took in strays like Graham and Dani and added them to a network of informants and hunters, trained them in this life. Facing a firing squad sounded easier than admitting to him she had let Graham die.
Her fingers tapped out a staccato beat on the steering wheel. Inside the truck there were plenty of wards that kept her safe. She took a deep breath and cracked the door, sliding onto the pavement. She crossed the parking lot and wished it didn’t feel haunted here. Months of avoiding anything that reminded her of him, and now she was in a place where he lingered everywhere. A ghost she couldn’t hunt.
Being outside raised the hackles at the back of her neck, and Dani fought the urge to look over her shoulder. Nobody followed her, not this time. She grabbed at the amulets under her tank top, glad for the bruja in New Orleans who had been willing to trade some powerful mojo for taking care of a few spirits. Anything and everything to protect herself from Spectre and his pets.
Walking inside, memories crashed over her in a wave that stole her breath. It made it bittersweet, hard to swallow the pain and still taste the pleasure.
Joe’s was somewhere between a saloon, a restaurant, and a halfway house. It was dimly lit, with a dining room, bar, and full kitchen. A dozen scarred wooden tables with mismatched chairs that had no real homes sat to the right. On the left was a pair of threadbare pool tables and a spot where hunters, who needed to crash or hide, could catch a few Zs. It smelled like alcohol and cooking grease, gun oil, smoke, and leather.
She sighed and her breath trembled in her chest. It was so easy to look at any part of this room and see Graham. At the pool tables, he was teaching her how to hustle before she was legal to drink; at the tables, running down jobs and figuring out what was worth their time; and at the bar where Dani met him so many years ago.
Her chest ached, and she had to blink to keep tears from spilling over. Hunters didn’t cry, not where anybody could see anyhow. She fisted her hands inside the pockets of her leather jacket and decided to pretend that being here didn’t rip her heart apart.
“Dani!” Joe’s voice boomed from behind the bar, and it pulled her from dark thoughts.
She forced a smile, even if she didn’t want to, because it was Joe. At six-foot-four, he looked like a grizzly bear, with short hair and broad features. His hard expression made it appear as though he might tear your head off, but he was more of a father than anyone else in this screwed-up world. Joe’s whole face lit up at the sight of her, and she almost started crying after all.
“Aww, Firecracker.” Joe clucked at her and came around the bar to wrap her in a vise-tight hug. She leaned into the embrace before sniffling and pulling back.
“Hey, Joe.” Her voice cracked, going high and weak for a moment before recovering. She wiped at her eyes with a small sigh and shook her head.
“Come take a seat, darlin’. You’re too skinny again.”
“Well, some bacon cheese fries wouldn’t be out of the question.” She smiled and followed him back to the bar. Joe slid her a beer. Questions swirled in his eyes, and she knew he deserved answers, but Dani wasn’t sure she had the ones he was looking for.
“Already put the order in. Saw ya pull up in that old junker—”
“Delilah is not a junker—”
“And figured it was only a matter of time until you made it in.” He smiled, warm and sympathetic. “Shouldn’t have taken you this long to come see me, huh?”
Dani let out a stalled breath and shuddered. She had been ready for the blame and the anger, and now there was neither. The weight in her chest broke up just a little. Not enough to fade away, but it made breathing easier. So instead of answering, she sipped at her beer and attempted to concentrate on why she was here and on the fact that Joe was right. Graham would have kicked her ass if he’d been alive, or tried to anyway.
“It wasn’t on purpose.” She swallowed and looked at Joe, unsure of what to say.
“Hey. I noticed.” He cocked his head. “Just don’t make it a habit, yeah? I don’t adopt strays for my health, ya know?” He winked, and Dani shook her head.
“I’ll try. Hell, I wouldn’t even be here, but you’re my last best hope.”
“Stroking my ego will only get you everything.” Joe grinned.
“You said you found something? Because nobody else has jack shit.” Dani took another long drink from her beer. She watched him, trying to read every shift of expression for any information.
His smile faded, turning grim, determined. From under the bar he pulled out a bin filled with folders. He rifled through them before pulling one out and dropping the box out of sight. Joe looked at the folder and then shifted his gaze back to Dani.
“You’re sure about this?”
“He killed Graham.” Dani could hear the way her voice went flat and cold, hard as iron. “We don’t let him live.”
“Good.” Joe nodded and slid the folder across the bar with two fingers.
Behind him a bell chimed from the kitchen, and he turned to grab Dani’s order, leaving her alone with the best information she was likely to get. She stared at the file. If she opened it, there would be no turning back. Either it’d have what she needed, or she’d spend the rest of her life playing trial and error with a monster that wouldn’t stay dead.
Talented were human, mostly. But some of them went bad, and when they did, everyone suffered. Spectre was proof enough of that, staring her in the face. He was a necromancer who might as well have been the bogeyman in the damn flesh, so far as the hunting community was concerned. He’d murdered Graham and laughed while he did it. He deserved to die in the most permanent sense.
Good thing she killed things like him, professionally.
Her stomach growled as Joe slid a heaping plate of food in front of her. She pushed the folder to the side to focus on lunch. Grease-soaked fries, cheese so hot it burned her mouth, and chunks of real bacon was the perfect remedy for too many hours behind the wheel. She cleared half the plate before stopping to take a drink, the angry edge of hunger sated.
“Spectre isn’t your run-of-the-mill talented,” Joe said with a lingering look. “He’s old, and he’s nasty. Bastard don’t like stayin’ dead.”
“Is it because he’s a necromancer?” she asked.
“Doubtful. Even powerful talented stay down when you put ’em there—provided you do the job right the first time.” He tapped the bar counter with two fingers. “But he’s worked some kind of mojo, keeps him safe. Nobody’s managed to keep him dead.”
“So I’ve seen.” Dani clucked her tongue and finished her fries before pushing the plate to the side. “Same shit I heard from everybody else.” She waited a beat. “More or less.”
“Time was, there were weapons capable of handling things like him.” Joe wiped at the scarred counter with a rag, keeping an eye on her as he did.
“I’m listening.”
“Old weapons. Older ’n pretty much anything but lore these days. Called veilblades. Nobody’s seen one in…a long time. But rumor is, there’s one up in Maryland.”
“Rumor?” Dani opened the folder and scanned the details as Joe spoke.
“You gotta understand, Firecracker, we’re dealing with rumors. And you—”
“Know how hunters talk.” She finished his sentence for him with a smile. “Yeah, but you’re the one who taught me most every rumor started with a seed of truth, right?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Nobody has anything concrete. Fucking everybody has heard of Spectre, but he might as well be Valkyrie.”
“Valkyrie is no joke.” Joe’s eyes slid away, and Dani filed away the “tell” for later.
“Okay, sure. But there isn’t a trail. No real name, no hometown, no associates. It’s like he’s made of smoke
and mirrors. Just…a nightmare for baby hunters.” She finished her beer with a scowl. “Except he’s real.”
“Way back when, there was a well-known family of hunters up in Dawson,” Joe said. “Capable of taking out nastier things than most of the hunters working these days.”
“Back when?”
“It’s been years since anybody caught up with ’em. They worked outta Dawson for a long time, and then overnight, they were gone.” He shrugged and his gaze slid away from hers for the second time in as many minutes.
“Dawson…the name sounds familiar but…”
“It’s a little spot, up on Catoctin Mountain.”
“And what? You think this veilblade is still up there?” Dani raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe. Veilblades are old as legend and just as powerful. The hunters up there had at least one, maybe two. And after the family disappeared…well those blades aren’t the sort of weapon that disappears without a trace.” His eyes slide away from Dani’s again, as though keeping something from her.
“Why did they matter so much?”
“I’ve only got tidbits to go on.”
“So share with the class.” Dani gestured widely.
“You know the stories about the first hunters, right? Bladesingers, able to cut through wraiths like they were smoke and shadows. A blade for each of ’em. The Black family had a pedigree in hunting when they were still around.”
“And they up and poofed?”
Dani shifted in her seat and leaned forward, hungry for more information. Growing up without family, without anybody until she was a teenager, made hunting different for her than for other lifers. They’d been raised in the life, or trained by family like it was a
legacy they needed to uphold. For her it wasn’t any of that, it just felt right. Down to the marrow of her bones she was a hunter, so hearing about a family that shared her last name and had a way with hunting wasn’t easy. She didn’t want to think about it, especially not if they were all gone.
“Like I said, they disappeared overnight. Nobody knew what went down, but sentinels locked the place down.” Joe tossed the rag under the counter and avoided her eyes.
Dani blinked and sat back, rubbing a hand over her face. Wasn’t this what she’d wanted? What she’d been asking and hoping and praying for? Something that might help her take Spectre down and keep him there. But things were getting complicated fast.
She’d left Graham dead and staring at her from the ground of a dirty warehouse in Alabama, but Spectre had followed her, chased her across eight months and twelve states. Only quick thinking and every spell and precaution in the book had kept her alive.
Sentinels elevated this to a whole new level though. There was a magical ecosystem in the world, three basic branches that tried to avoid each other. Hunters handled the rogue elements. Talented and casters could enjoy their lives without worrying about having their face blown off, so long as they didn’t screw up. And sentinels kept the peace and protected the land. They made sure that the supernatural didn’t spill over into the normal world and tried to keep regular people from sticking their nose in where it didn’t belong.
“Do you know the sentinels up there? Any of the talented? Anybody?” Dani insinuated the real question under her words. Can we trust these rumors if they involve sentinels? No way was she crossing one if she didn’t have to.
“Yeah, yeah I do.” Joe cracked open a second beer and drained half in a single long swallow. “I knew the hunters back then. Ben.” He tipped the bottle in his hand, staring at the label as though it would explain something to him. “And the Lockgrove family.”
“As in Ephraim ‘I own half of the antique relics on the market’ Lockgrove?” Dani’s jaw dropped. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“Don’t get so excited. Ephraim handed over the biz to his son, who is…not the man his father is.”
“So we can trust this rumor then. It isn’t just bullshit from the road.”
“It isn’t just BS from the road,” Joe said.
“So the hunters. They never…came back?”
“Only one of ’em. In a body bag. Blade never showed up either, and after they went down, Spectre got bolder. More active than he’d been in a long time.”
“So Dawson is my best shot.”
“Darlin, I think it might be the only shot.”
“Guess that settles it then, huh? Maryland here I come.”
