Page 19 of Hunted in the Shadows
“I can’t,” I joked dryly, sweeping a hand from my collarbone down my leg. “It’s the price of the warrior’s physique you see before you. I’m simply growing too powerful.”
Jon melted into a chuckle, the kind of boyish grin that came more often lately, like he had bottled sunlight in him.
Following the delicious scents wafting off the drinks, I brightened. “They had hot chocolate?”
Jon frowned. “You didn’t want black coffee?”
He uncapped a frothy drink topped with whipped cream and chocolate shavings, and my grievances died on my lips.
“Don’t even joke about that,” I mumbled.
Before long, I was sitting contentedly at the edge of the tabletop with a warm, fairy-sized mug in my hands. I cast a mild cooling spell to keep it from burning my tongue—years of practice that I had perfected with tea. As I thought about scooping up a refill, I considered the mug in my grasp. It had been among the supplies that mother had thoughtfully provided before I fled with the hunters.
My heart twisted the way it always did when I thought of her.
“Aelthorin’s just days away now, isn’t it?” I asked.
Jon couldn’t quite look at me. “There’s that possible haunting in Kansas we’re monitoring, but yeah—the spot in Colorado marked on your map is a straight shot from here.”
His eyes cut to Cliff, who seemed to mirror the unreadable expression.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked. “I don’t have the patience to sit through another one of your silent, brooding conversations.”
Cliff set down the sandwich Jon had brought for him. “We need to head south for a supply run first.”
“Oh.” Yet another delay on our journey west. I racked my brain, thinking of last night's brutal hunt. Theclickof Jon's gun as it pulled against an empty chamber. “Is it the silver?”
Jon nodded. “We’re cleaned out of ammo. Besides my knives—” He tapped his jacket, where thetwin blades rested against his chest, “we have nothing. Between that nasty wraith and the nest here in Holly Grove, it drained us.”
I set my mug in my lap, letting out a measured breath. “So if we run into so much as a runty ghoul on the road…”
“We’re toast,” Cliff finished for me, his voice thick as he took another bite of his sandwich.
“Every day we go without restocking is a huge risk,” Jon tacked on, pushing a hand back through his hair. “But there’s a hunters’ outpost not too far from here. It won’t delay us more than a day or two.”
He shot me a small, reassuring smile, but a beat of uncertainty seized me all the same. I had delicately traced an approximation of our path toward Aelthorin on my map. The line zigged and zagged with car troubles, time-sensitive hunts, even my own fruitless detours for potential gemstone locations. At this rate, it’d be another month before we reached the mountains if the same patterns persisted.
Were Mother and Hazel waiting for me already? I couldn’t see how it was possible for them to reach Aelthorin, but Mother had seemed sosurethat we would reunite soon. My guilt deepened at the truth that I didn’t hate this prolonged time with Jon and Cliff.
For all I knew, my family was worried sick about me while I was foolishly opening myself up to Jon and taking in whatever fragile pieces of his heart he offered.
“I imagine there will be other hunters. Any chance they’ll be thrilled to see me?” I remarked, smirking as I observed the boys’ reactions closely.
“You won’t be anywhere near that place,” Jon said firmly. “We go way back with the marshal of this location. Cain will get us what we need quickly, and we’ll be back on the road.”
I frowned, drumming my fingers against my mug while images raced through my mind. An entire facility dedicated to the nightmares I had been warned about since I was a child.
“Are there other locations? These… outposts?” I asked, trying to suppress the visible chill snaking down my spine at the thought. Dozens, perhaps hundreds of hunters, all gathered in one spot. Something told me the vast majority wouldn’t share Jon and Cliff's disposition toward my kind.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” Cliff cut in. “But yeah. There’s about a dozen stateside. Most of 'em specialize in what their territory needs. Tracking, witch-warding, rare artifacts…”
“And this one?”
Cliff hesitated, glancing at Jon. “Louisiana’s outpost specializes in training.”
I forced a smile, but it was tight, suffocating.Training. Somehow that term was more visceral than any armory. Men and women being forged into killers, set to eliminate all non-humans. Turning boys like Jon and Cliff into living weapons.
I pretended to sip on my empty mug, sighing through my nose. “Well, we can’t have you fighting the next vampire nest with toothpicks—even if I’m there to save your asses. Again.”
