Page 56 of Hunted in the Shadows
Fresh agony erupted through me. Every breath hurt. I turned onto my hands and knees and crawled toward the edge of the walkway. I couldn’t run anymore—I needed to jump. Drowning was a kinder fate than being at the hands of hunters, but perhaps I could still save myself. My fingers gripped the edge of a board. If I could freeze the water into the right shape, I could slide downand get under the walkway, race back to the trees on a frozen platform. I could get out of sight—
Amidst the hunter still screaming about his forever-ruined hand, I couldn’t react to another approaching until it was too late.
Something slammed around me.
I tried to draw in a full breath, tried to form the words to shred this hunter's hand, too. I plunged my hand into my pocket for the gem shard. With that added magic, I could go further—I could freeze him solid from the inside out.
But gravity tipped, and I was forced to grit my teeth together to keep from biting my tongue in half. When my world righted itself, I found a small wooden floor beneath me. A clanging sound rattled my senses.
Bars. They had caged me.
As I tried to summon the gem’s magic to free myself, I felt as though my soul was being ripped to shreds. Doubling over, I gasped in agony. The wooden bottom of the cage gritted against my knees. The enchanted cold on my skin was gone, snuffed out like a choked flame.
The world blurred. With each attempted spell, I felt emptier. I reached for the bars but stopped short when I became aware of the crackling heat billowing from it.
Iron.
11
Jon
The commotion in the Pit ebbed into the steady hum of the swamp as we made our way behind the main building, though the faint echoes still carried—sharp clinks of metal on metal and occasional bursts of shouting. The alp had shifted into the form of a panther, its sleek body coiled with fury as it viciously lunged at the hunters who subdued it from the other side of the cage.
The familiar cocktail of brackish water and old wood clung to the walkway, but as we approached the captive vampire, a new smell began to weigh in the air. The stench of flesh and decay, along with something more bitter—like vinegar, cloying and foul.
The vampire's clothes hung off it in shreds, leaving much of its skin exposed to sunlight. He groaned in his throat as we stepped closer, something that might have been a growl if he were at full strength.
Cliff whistled low under his breath. “I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Your modeling days are long gone.”
“Isn’t the entertainment overthereriveting enough for you?” the vampire rasped. “Leave me be.”
I glanced behind us to ensure that the building and crates were obscuring us enough from view. I spotted a glimpse of metal—a single machete that was kept nearby for security or torment. When I fixed my eyes back on the vampire, I noted the fearbeneath that half-hearted snarl on his face. Good—maybe we could count on some cooperation.
“We’re looking for some information,” I said, cutting to the chase. At any moment, someone could round the corner. “How long have you been out here?”
The vampire’s gaunt face twisted with disgust, and he offered no response. I watched him carefully—how his eyes darted rapidly, the faint tremors of reaction to sounds too subtle for me to catch. Tortured or not, his enhanced senses were obviously unbroken.
“You must see and hear plenty,” I insisted. “The shipments of monster remnants that are circulating through this place—where are they going? Who's the buyer?”
“I smell the ash of my kin on you,” the vampire said in a low voice. A long, rasping inhale followed. “Centuries old. A lineage destroyed. Why should Itell you anything?”
“Yourkinwas keeping a human farm,” Cliff scoffed. “Pretty pathetic that a centuries-old lineage was reduced to holing up in a Blockbuster. If you ask me, we did them a favor.”
The pinched expression on the vampire’s face flickered with curiosity, and I could see the question he wanted to ask. I seized the opportunity to keep him invested, and more importantly—talking.
“Does the nameGiovanniring a bell?” I asked.
A sharp breath rattled through the vampire. He looked between us slowly, a glint in his eyes. Mourning, but also a hint of relief. “That name takes me back. Giovanni was always a bit of an arrogant prick—but generous. I’ve never seen anyone more willing to give someone the shirt off his own back.”
I rolled my eyes. The vampire’s withered lips twitched in what might’ve been a smirk, savoring my obvious disgust. “I suppose there is dignity in being staked—a kinder fate than this,” he said, grimacing at the cut of sunlight across his scabbed torso. Helooked between Cliff and me, sunken eyes moving slowly. A wariness surfaced, as though he struggled to comprehend that Giovanni was truly gone. “You really killed the alpha?”
“We’re not interested in keeping prisoners,” Cliff said.
Sickening familiarity jolted through me. Hadn’t we told Sylvia something similar when we held her captive, demanding answers? I swallowed the memory, forced myself not to match the fear on the vampire’s face to Sylvia’s. This was nothing like that.
“If you help us out,” Cliff went on, “we’re a little nicer than the average asshole around here. How ’bout a chew toy in exchange for some info?” He held up the severed finger.
The vampire’s eyes widened, his jaw going slack as a drop of blood plodded onto the wooden ground. His breathing came quicker, and he straightened, pulling against his restraints as though he had no other choice. His eyes, filled with new life, snapped between us and the finger.
