Page 41 of A Hunter Turned
Stretching her neck slightly, the quiet of the place finally penetrated her foggy brain. They’d left her alone? Damn. And here she’d beensolooking forward to a villain monologue complete with rubbing hands and gleeful cackles.
A cat meowed, the sound echoing from above. Jamie glanced upward curiously, only to feel all the blood drain from her face as the cat in question stared down at her from a massive hole in the roof that she hadn’t noticed the night before. A hole that also revealed a rapidly lightening sky. And she was parked right underneath it.
Well, that explained her lack of guards, didn’t it?
Her chest grew even hotter as panic settled around her. Tugging on the bonds, she hissed in pain as the wires cut into her flesh. Death via the sun was not quick, not easy, and not pretty. That glowing orb was going to suck every bit of moisture out of her body until she was nothing but a shriveled corpse. And here she’d not so long ago been lamenting her loss of the sun and how much she had missed seeing it. Silly of her considering it looked to be the means of her imminent demise.
An image of Archer doing the Funky Chicken popped into her head and she couldn’t help but laugh as tears welled in her eyes. She wished she had told him she loved him. But then again, maybe it was better that he didn’t know. He’d have fewer regrets. Feel less guilty. But Cady… poor little Cady. She’d already lost her mother and now, she’d wonder why she never saw her friend again. Would they tell her? Or would they make up a story that had Jamie riding off on the hunt to catch the bad vampires?
She hoped it was the latter. If Morgan had anything to do with it, that would be the story that was told, but then again, would her boss even be around to tell the tale? Last she knew, her captors were going to use Jamie to get to Kane. Had they succeeded? If they had, it would have only happened over Morgan’s dead body.
The cat meowed again and Jamie glanced up. The sky was turning a pretty peach color as the sun rose and the heat in her chest was becoming a burn. Another meow and this time the cat glared at her as if to say, “Quit your bitching, snap out of it, and do something.” And he/she/it was absolutely right. Her goose wasn’t cooked yet.
The vampires would have disarmed her last night, but… glancing down at her feet, Jamie nearly shouted with triumph and crowed at her captor’s foolishness. If they’d been trained under Morgan, they would have known to remove her boots as well. And these boots were the ones with the knife sheaths in the heels. Morgan had given them to her as a graduation gift when Jamie had completed her training, with the statement that a Hunter could never have too many blades or too many places to hide them.
Spring-loaded, she just had to knock the toes against the floor and the handle of the blades would eject out of the back enough for her to grab them. Her ankles were strapped snuggly to the outside of the chair legs, but the wire slid smoothly up over the metal as she raised her knees, maneuvered her feet, and brought them back down hard onto the toes.
Unfortunately, with the way her wrists were secured, the angle was wrong for her to reach the lip of the handles that had been revealed even with her fingers stretched to the limit. Glancing at the diminishing shadows in the mausoleum, and then again up at the brightening sky and still glaring cat that was watching her, Jamie swallowed hard. This was going to hurt.
She couldn’t look as she pushed down with her arms letting the wire bonds cut deep into her flesh. She hissed through her teeth at the excruciating pain, felt the hot rush of blood sliding over her hands, and then the hilts of the blades at her fingertips. Straining even further with a quiet scream, she was able to pinch the ends between her fingers and pull them free.
Gasping for breath, sweat was pouring off her, rolling into her eyes and stinging but she wasn’t done yet. She couldn’t give up. Carefully, so as not to drop through trembling hands what she’d worked so hard to attain, she turned the blades and maneuvered them between her bleeding wrists and the wire. Pressing the sharp edge against the metal of the chair, she bore down with everything she had. The wires gave way with a twang of protest and Jamie nearly slumped in her seat. She was losing too much blood too fast, growing weaker by the moment, but she couldn’t stop.
Focusing on her desire to see Archer again, to see Cady, and her team, and find out what happened to Efrem, she felt a reserve of energy, or perhaps desperation, kick in. Leaning forward in the seat, she made quick work of the binds securing her ankles and then launched herself into one of the darkened corners only to see that corner light up like someone had flicked a switch.
What the…? Glancing down, she realized the heat she had felt in her chest hadn’t been her vampire instincts warning of the imminent arrival of the sun, but the pendant Nedra had given her firing up against her skin with the protection spell.
Pressing her bloody hand against her shirt, she felt the incredible heat pouring off the necklace. “Nedra, you beautiful swamp witch! I am so giving you a kiss when I see you.”
It was tempting to stay in the mausoleum and what little protection from the sun it provided but she was so weak with blood loss she was on the verge of passing out. If that happened, she wouldn’t be able to move with the shadows as the sun made its way across the sky. She needed blood, needed a phone, or to flag down a ride.
Grabbing onto the amulet once more, Jamie whispered, “I’m putting my faith in you, Nedra. Don’t let me down.”
Hacking off the bottom portion of her shirt Jamie used the fabric to bind her wrists and to clean up her bloody hands as best she could before once more gripping her blades in case that witch that had helped her captors was somewhere outside keeping watch. Carefully cracking the door, she peered out and listened carefully. Nothing. She took a deep breath of damp morning air but her senses didn’t pick up anything more than the scent of her own blood, dirt, and vegetation.
Stepping out, she felt the amulet heat up once more, welcoming the burn as proof positive the thing was working and took off at a cautious jog, her eyes searching for an exit amidst the rows upon rows of crypts and mausoleums. The howl that sounded was music to Jamie’s ears and closer than expected. Changing directions, she ran towards it.
∞∞∞
Archer was losing hope. Once the sky had lightened to gray, the dragon had had to end his aerial surveillance so as not to be seen, costing them a valuable asset in the search, but Travis had tucked the beast away and had joined the wolves as well as Morgan and Kane as they continued hunting on the ground. One way or another they would bring Jamie home, but as the sun had risen, morale had declined amongst them all. What if they had taken the picture in a mausoleum to throw them off and then moved her? What if she was staked out somewhere for the sun?
The breeze picked up and on it, Archer could smell blood, his mate’s blood. Close by and a lot of it. Letting out a howl to alert his pack, he took off, following the scent. Jamie was near and she was injured, bleeding, please God, please let him not be too late. Not this time and never again. Please.
As she came into sight, Archer nearly stumbled. His mate was glowing softly, like a shimmer. Perhaps a trick of the light? Whatever the reason behind it didn’t matter to him, he was too focused on his rising anger as that glow illuminated bloody handprints on her shirt and a nasty bruise on her jaw. Her wrists were bandaged, but blood was seeping through the cloth, dripping off fingers gripped around the hilts of short-bladed daggers. And these were only the injuries he saw at a glance. He was suddenly flooded with the urge to kill Marlin Hughes all over again.
Pushing his body for even more speed, Archer weaved nimbly in between tombs and around crypts. He could hear others coming, more of his pack, their feet pounding against the pavement, but Archer didn’t slow. He had to get Jamie out of the sun. “Start the car!” he bellowed, practically clotheslining Jamie as he scooped her into his arms, shoved her head against his shoulder, and made a beeline for the gates.
He’d catch hell later, he was sure, for his rough treatment of her, and he’d stand fast as she gave him her worst, but right now, his only priority was getting her to safety by any means necessary, and getting his blood into her veins.
He was halfway to their destination when he realized Morgan and Kane were flanking him, a blanket acquired from God only knew where being thrown over Jamie as Archer continued to run. He didn’t bother with any thanks, that could come later, his focus on the looming gate and Jeremiah’s monster of a Suburban beyond, the back door standing open and ready, the engine running.
He dove in, heard Jamie let out a protesting ‘oomph’ as they landed hard across the back seat. There was athunkas the doors closed and then the tires screeched as the vehicle lurched into motion. Searching frantically under the blanket, Archer shoved his wrist into her face with a snarled, “Drink!”
Her voice was muffled thanks to a combination of the blanket and his arm smooshing her lips, but he heard her grumbled, “Dickhead Archer is back I see. You better shelve that shit or you’re never getting laid again.” And with that, she bit down hard in payback. Archer’s eyes filled with tears, though not from pain. These were tears of relief. His mate was with him, and if her snark was anything to go by, she was going to be just fine.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
No matter her shouted protestations, Archer had kept Jamie swaddled within the suffocating folds of the rough wool blanket that smelled like mildew until they were back at the bayou and safely behind the closed doors of the house on stilts. As soon as she shoved the confining fabric off her head, she glared at Archer. “Christ, I think I suffered more bruises from your rescue than I did during my capture.”
