Page 57 of Hunted in the Shadows
“I haven’t heard very much,” he choked out.
“Keep your voice down,” I said, drawing as close as I dared. “Whathaveyou heard? Where are the crates going, and who’s paying for them?”
“Different locations. Some for their rarity. Some for—for study. Experimentation, if you ask me.” He looked desperately at the severed finger. “That’s all I know.”
Cliff lifted an eyebrow—a mocking expression that didn't quite match the alarm sparkling through his intense gaze. One of our tried and true tactics for wheedling out information: making the mark feel all the more isolated.
“Experimentation?” Cliff asked, forcing down a chuckle. “You think some fucking scientists are playing with monster parts?”
“Don’t act so surprised,” the vampire snapped, his gaze hardening. “You hunters—always acting like humanity is above such atrocities. Perfectly ordinary humans took no issue with experimenting on their own kind during the Second World War,so long as they were born on different soil. I saw it with my own eyes.”
This gave me pause. Looking at this haggard, sore-covered creature, it was hard to imagine the man he had once been so many years ago. Perhaps a soldier on the front lines, serving his country. There was something tragic, seeing where his road had ultimately led him.
The vampire’s gaze turned distant, but as another drop of blood hit the boards, he snarled and pulled feverishly against his restraints. “They come at night,” he panted, somewhat desperately. “Uniformed. Armored vehicles. That’s all I’ve seen—I swear to you.”
Additional needle-like teeth were filling his mouth. His groans were on the verge of becoming animalistic bellows. I elbowed Cliff to give the vampire his prize, hoping that would shut him up.
Cliff tossed the finger, and the vampire devoured it whole—an anguished, sorry sight.
The vampire slumped, shoulders heaving with relieved breaths. His calm lasted for about five seconds before he snapped his head back up, eyes wide. He strained against the silver chains, making them clank.
“More,” he growled under his breath. Then his voice rose. “I need more!”
Cliff seized the vampire’s rotting scalp, jerking his head forward. “Tell us what else you know, and we’ll get you more.”
But the vampire was too far gone to listen. He snarled with bloodlust, fighting his restraints with a fervor that couldn’t be stopped by any promise. He made a vicious pass at Cliff’s arm, who recoiled from range.
I reached back and grabbed one of the machetes atop the crate.
“There’s nothing more we can get from him—not like this,” I said, exchanginga look with Cliff.
Lunging forward, I decapitated the vampire with one clean swing.
In the sudden silence that followed, I found myself imagining if Sylvia were with us—wondered what she would truly think. Even she would have had to agree that a swift death was kinder than a torturous end under the sunlight.
“I was going to use that, you idiot,” a voice snapped from behind.
The familiar drawl sent a chill down my spine, and before I whirled to face him, I knew I’d be looking at a man who’d nearly handed us into a painful end.
Rhett Iverson stood a few feet away. His livid stare faltered into surprise. I saw the memories hit him, too: fir trees lined by silvery moonlight, the acrid smell of smoldering skin, flames casting our faces in flickering hues.
Cliff braced in unison beside me. My grip tightened on the machete.
Somehow, the grin that spread on Rhett’s face was more alarming than his ire. He smoothed a hand through his tousled chestnut hair, chuckling. “Well, I was wondering when I’d see you two around here. You know that vamp wasn’t going anywhere, right? What a waste.”
He stepped closer, cocking his head to observe the slow roll of the decapitated head along the wooden slates. I flicked my gaze over him, noting how Rhett’s lean frame bore more muscle now—no longer the scrawny young man we'd once known. He sported a cropped beard that framed his face well, and his clothes looked clean and new.
“Didn’t look like you were getting much use out of him with all the junk back here,” I muttered.
“You’d be surprised how often I get a line on someone looking for a still-breathing vamp,” Rhett said with a shrug. His gazedrifted back toward the vampire's corpse, appraising what remained.
“Yeah? How much are they going for these days?” Cliff asked. “Up there with prowler eyes?”
The jab made Rhett’s sharp blue eyes tighten around the edges, but he managed a strained laugh. “Come on, guys, you’re not still hung up on ancient history, are you? No hard feelings.”
“Hard feelings?” Cliff looked about five seconds away from decking him. “You fucked us, Rhett. You nearly got uskilledfor a damn payout.”
“Did I? Or did I just make the best of a tight situation?” Rhett pursed his lips, a faux-innocent sneer. “Come on, I thought you guys could handle it! I mean, look at you. Alive and well and violent as ever. Clearly, I was right.”
