Hunted (Riley Cray) Page 3

  “Couldn’t he do it without being such a gigantic douche nozzle?” I asked, still too embarrassed to turn around and face him.

  “I think that’s about as likely as you sprouting those wings,” he replied, his voice light with barely suppressed laughter.

  Scooping up my bags, Holbrook flashed me a dazzling smile. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Grasping the handle of Loki’s carrier, his rollicking motion stilled the moment I picked it up.

  A big black Suburban with government plates was parked in the driveway next to my green Jeep Wrangler. The black behemoth lurked in the snow like a great hulking beast, shining menacingly in the sunshine.

  Real inconspicuous, guys, I snorted, barely refraining from rolling my eyes.

  “You okay?” Holbrook asked, pausing beside me, his eyes squinting against the mid-morning sun reflecting off of the snow.

  “Yup, just peachy,” I replied, forcing a smile that I was sure looked more like a grimace.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ALTHOUGH MY CABIN was nestled in the woods north of Leadville, a spot that was pretty damned remote and far removed from the prying eyes of the media, the FBI, in all their wisdom had decided that staying put was simply not an option. Instead they wanted me moved to an “undisclosed location” where I could be kept under the watchful eyes of Johnson and Holbrook.

  Their idea of a safe house left a lot to be desired.

  A collection of four buildings designed to look like quaint little alpine chalets, The Knotty Pine Motel sat just off of Highway 9 a few miles outside of Breckenridge, the dense forest looming over the cluster of buildings as if the surrounding wilderness was slowly reclaiming the land. The motel had probably seen its last significant facelift sometime in the eighties and was gradually succumbing to the stresses of time and neglect. A flickering neon sign hanging crookedly over the door of the office proudly proclaimed ‘Free Cable Available!’

  “Classy,” I muttered as I slid out of the back of the SUV, my boots crunching on the frost covered snow. Hunching my shoulders up around my ears, I buried my nose in the folds of my scarf as the icy wind blew across the pot-hole riddled parking lot, buffeting me where I stood. Inside the SUV Loki yowled as the cold air blew into the car, carrying the first few flakes of snow inside.

  I delved my chilled hands into the pockets of my jacket and glanced up at the dark sky overhead. The bright morning sun had quickly given way to steely grey clouds that promised even more snow as evening fell. Squinting against the wind and swirling snow I drew in a deep breath, scenting the air through my fluffy scarf.

  The mouthwatering scent of grilled onions and charred beef drifted to me on the wind, emanating from a dilapidated diner across the stretch of pock-marked asphalt. The diner’s large windows glowed with warmth in the dreary mid-afternoon light, fresh flakes of snow beginning to dance on the air. Through the windows I saw red and white vinyl seating, turquoise laminate tables and a long metal counter. A few grizzled looking truck drivers sat at the counter drinking coffee and eating.

  “We’re in rooms three and four,” Holbrook said, gesturing to one of the chalets with a tilt of his chin as he offered me a brass key hanging from a plastic key chain shaped like a pine tree.

  “Great,” I said, forcing a weak smile though it was lost behind my scarf.

  Collecting Loki’s carrier from the backseat of the SUV I trudged along behind Holbrook to our rooms, my duffel bag and backpack slung over one of his strong shoulders, his own backpack hanging over the other. Stepping aside, he looked out over the parking lot as I fit the key into the lock, his stance relaxed while the sharpness of his gaze let me know that he was definitely on the clock. The door stuck for a moment before swinging open with an ominous creak straight out of a horror movie, revealing a small room cast in shadow. Flipping the light switch beside the door I peered inside, my eyes roving over fake wood paneling and dingy green carpet.

  I felt the loss of my home even more acutely as I stepped into the room, setting Loki’s carrier on the bed closest to the door, the bedspread an eye-searing pattern of red, pink and yellow abstract flowers.

  “I’ll let you out in a minute, buddy,” I said in response to his plaintive meow and the frantic rocking of the crate.

  “Where do you want your bags?” Holbrook asked from the doorway, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the stained and fragrant carpet.

  “On the bed is fine I guess,” I replied, gesturing to the second bed as I scoped out the rest of the room.

  A mismatched pair of nightstands sat on either side of the bed I had claimed as mine, their lamps casting dim circles of light that didn’t even begin to chase away the gloom. A squat dresser with an ancient TV sat across from the beds, the screen coated in a thick layer of dust.

  I guess the maid is on vacation.

  A small niche was cut into the wall opposite the door, housing a single sink set into a peeling laminate countertop, a door in the wall on the left open just enough to show the edge of a toilet bowl.

  “Cozy,” I said, relieved that my voice didn’t reveal the bitterness that hung in the back of my throat.

  “It won’t be for long.”

  Nodding, I turned my back on him, unwinding my scarf and stuffing it into my duffel bag before pulling out my battered sketchbook.

  “I’ve got some work to do. Deadlines to meet and all that,” I said, wishing this man I barely knew would leave me alone to puzzle over the cluster of emotions duking it out in my gut. The knowledge of Samson on the loose had unearthed a tangle of anger and fear that I had kept buried beneath a carefully crafted layer of denial. In the blink of an eye the scab had been torn off the old wound, and now I was slowly bleeding out.

  “No problem. I’m just next door if you need me.”

  He lingered for a moment as if he wanted to say something more, the cold wind blowing into the room sending snowflakes skittering across the carpet. Just as I began to turn, the door closed with a soft click, and I was left alone in the cold room with a rather disgruntled cat.

  * * *

  Excitement sang in my veins, fiery and golden as I rode the waves of ecstasy. It was like being high, riding the wave of pleasure that came along with the change. The pain of bones breaking, shifting and reforming was lost beneath the orgasmic rush of letting the wolf burst free from the shackles of humanity.

  It had been too long since I’d shifted, the burn of stretching muscles as welcome a sensation as the anticipation that blossomed in my gut. Every inch of my skin tingled as if being pricked by hundreds of tiny needles, goose bumps rising along my spine as thick dark fur began to sprout all over my body.

  My back arched at an inhuman angle, my vertebrae moving and changing shape as my spine reknit into ridges not present on the average human. My fingers flexed against the grubby linoleum, shortening and growing together to form thick-padded paws while my stubby nails lengthened into claws that gleamed black and wickedly sharp. From the cramping in my feet I knew that my toes were undergoing the same change, shifting into the paws of a massive wolf.

  Shaking myself, I threw off the last few tremors of the change, settling into my familiar other self. Stretching languorously, I flexed newly formed muscles, feeling the need to run and jump growing in them as a dull ache.

  Not yet, I thought, fighting against the wolf to hold onto my human thoughts. There are things to do first.

  I’d been cooped up for too long in the silent dark, the four close walls of my cell, and the stink of piss my only company. My senses were overloaded with a thousand different scents and sights, the cacophony of them dizzying. It was like being a clumsy pup all over again as I struggled to find balance in the tangle of sensations.

  Closing my eyes I hung my head low, focusing on sorting the scents one by one. The stink of humanity was all around me, but gradually I was able to untangle them, picking the scents apart until I could identify each one.

  Closest was the cloying chemical smell of disinfectan
t that burned my sensitive nose, coating my tongue with its sour perfumed stink and making my eyes water. I couldn’t understand how humans thought it was anything even closely resembling the fresh, crisp scent of pine. Next was the over processed smell of junk food that smelled more of chemicals and additives than real food.

  Humans are such pathetic idiots, stuffing their flabby faces with this crap when there is delicious, wet and wriggling meat to be had.

  The recorded chime of the door sliding open drew my attention up from the floor beneath my large black paws, my ears turning in the direction of the sound. I caught the exchange of voices but I didn’t care about them, all I cared about was the scents carried to me on the cold wind blowing in through the open door. Even the noxious smell of cigarettes couldn’t smother the tantalizing scent of hot blood pumping strong and full of vigor just beneath the surface of wind chapped skin. My mouth watered at the thought of it pulsing hard against my tongue, washing down my suddenly dry throat, sating the hunger that clawed ferociously at my gut.

  Drawn like a puppet on a string I inched towards that mouth-watering scent, the sound of my claws on the linoleum beating a dull tattoo at the back of my consciousness. Rounding the edge of a display case smelling of hot electrical wires and processed animal byproducts, I spied the source of that most delicious smell.

  A pimple-faced kid, stinking of grease and floured dough handed over a crumpled wad of cash for a gallon sized soda to the store’s clerk, a young dark skinned man with a thick and exotic accent. Lingering at the cash register the pizza boy struck up a conversation to discuss the asinine details of some video game I’d never heard of.

  They didn’t notice me at first, engrossed in their argument of whether Alliance or Horde was better, whatever the hell that meant. I knew it the instant their hindbrains kicked in, that last vestige of the days when man had the sense to be wary of the things that lived in the darkness, when they weren’t at the top of the food chain. The store clerk’s eyes grew wide and his words trailed off into nothingness when he spotted me.

  It only took a moment for his human arrogance to take over, smothering the voice in the back of his mind that rightly told him he should be afraid.

  “Hey man, you can’t shift in public. You know it’s against the law.”

  I cared nothing for human laws, they held no power over me. Dismissing his words as the verbal garbage they were, I continued forward, saliva flooding my mouth as I imagined how good their flesh would taste.

  “Come on, man. Don’t make me call the cops. I really don’t want to deal with all that paperwork,” he said, his voice still dripping with superiority and ignorance.

  What useless sacks of piss and shit these humans are.

  When I didn’t respond, the pimple-faced moron joined in. “Dude, don’t be an idiot. You know the cops will just haul your ass off to jail if they catch you.”

  They’re not going to catch me. No one can stop me now, not even her.

  The scent of fear pulsed against my sensitive nose, smelling both sour and sickly sweet, when they realized how much trouble they were truly in. The flabby one, smelling of tomato sauce and cheese, was the first to run, the soles of his sneakers squeaking on the grimy flooring as they fought for purchase. For one comical moment he appeared to run in place, his momentum throwing him off balance, his nicotine stained fingers pawing at the ground. And then he shot through the door, the electronic chime ringing out at his passage. It chimed again a moment later when the clerk vaulted over the counter and ran after him, his feet pounding on the cracked asphalt of the parking lot.

  My lips curled back in a wide grin as I watched them go, their frantic breaths steaming in the cold air.

  How nice of them to give me a little sport. It’s been far too long since I was able to stretch my legs.

  Letting them get a little further, I launched into motion, my long strides eating up the distance between us with ease. The first one went down easily, his body as soft and unresisting as the traces of pizza dough stuck to his shirt. He crumpled beneath me without even a flicker of defiance, and disappointment welled up inside me. His blood spurted hot in my mouth but it couldn’t satisfy my thirst, the ease of the hunt souring the taste of him.

  Leaving his pale and chubby body, I turned my attention on the other one. His pounding steps slowed as he approached a parked car across the parking lot, the jingle of keys in his shaking hand like music to my ears.

  My body sang with the intoxicating thrill of the chase and my lips pulled back in an excited grin. Raising my nose to the sky I let a piercing howl flow out of my throat, signaling the beginning of the hunt. This one would be more of a challenge. He would help to sate the burning thirst in my throat. My panting breaths echoed in my ears as I ran towards him, cutting a path between the gas pumps to reach him.

  The clatter of my claws on the asphalt made him turn to face me as if in slow motion, eyes growing wide. His keys fell from fingers frozen with fear, tinkling as they struck the ground. Leaving the keys where they lay at his feet he bolted, long legs pumping furiously as he tried to out distance me. I wanted to howl my jubilation as I closed in on him.

  His fingers clawed uselessly at the snow covered ground as he struggled up a steep incline, kicking clods of frozen dirt and rocks at me.

  “Oh God!” he cried out, tears thickening his voice. “God, no!”

  Your God has no place here, I wanted to tell him, but the wolf’s vocal chords couldn’t form such complex sounds. Instead I scrambled up the incline after him, my powerful legs propelling me forward until he was within reach.

  My jaws closed over a wildly flailing leg, the satisfying crunch of snapping bones reverberating through my skull even as his high pitched scream cut through the air. His wails and pleas for mercy didn’t stop until I had pulled him back down to the pavement. I clamped my jaws over his neck, halting the gurgling cry that rose in his throat before it could even begin, while he thrashed like a newborn fawn.

  Blood covered my face, dripping from my muzzle to splatter across the ground. I wanted to bathe in it, to cover myself in its wet heat and glorious scent, but my hunger would not be ignored. Rearing back I struck again, tearing gobbets of meat from his arm and shoulder, relishing the slick feel of it sliding down my gullet.

  I feasted until my stomach had grown distended and my movements slowed as the lull of sleep called to me, urging me to find a dark hole in which to sleep, but I had one final task to complete before I would allow myself to rest. Returning to the gas station, now blessedly devoid of pointless human noise, I let the wolf recede.

  Fur drifted from my skin, dissolving into gossamer filaments even as it floated towards the ground, until I was the shape of a man once more. Running my fingers through the cooling blood on my face, collecting it onto my fingertips like scarlet ink, I lifted my hand towards the glass door of a nearby beer cooler and began to scrawl my message.

  As the words flowed out of my fingers, leaving gruesome streaks on the frosty glass the world began to grow fuzzy around me as if I was drifting out of myself, slipping into the ether. Looking up I caught my reflection in the glass and felt my heart clench in horror. Samson’s gaunt face stared back me, manic glee shining in his wolf gold eyes. Blood dripped from his lips as they spread in a leering grin, revealing a row of jagged yellowed teeth.

  “I see you, Riley. You can’t hide from me,” he whispered, his voice mangled by the teeth contorting his jaw, my jaw.

  I reared back in fear, my heart pounding in terror and slipped away completely, spinning into the darkness even as I screamed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A SHARP TRILL startled me awake, my heart hammering in my chest as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. Panic flared white hot in my chest, a scream bubbling up in the back of my throat, until the blurred shapes resolved into the blankets tangled around my feet and my sketchbook lying open next to me. Glancing at the rough sketch of a twisted face staring at me from the page, I snapped it closed and pu
shed it away from me while suppressing a shudder. I’d filled far too many pages with that leering face over the years, but couldn’t ever seem to stop my hand from drawing its familiar lines again and again.

  Loki’s meow of disapproval at being disturbed from his nap cut through my lingering fear, the familiarity of his presence helping me push the rest of it down into the darkness where it belonged. Normally his weight against my legs would lull me back to sleep, but the half-remembered flashes of blood and violence made me reluctant to slip back into dreams.

  The phone trilled again, the sound slicing through more of the cobwebs clouding my mind. My arms, heavy with exhaustion, were slow to react to my commands as I groped for the phone.

  “Hello?” I croaked, rubbing a hand over my face to remove the grit from my eyes. Looking up at the windows I glimpsed a sliver of dark sky in the gap between the curtains. I felt like I’d only slept for a few minutes, but the stiffness in my neck and heaviness in my limbs let me know it had been hours.

  “You awake over there?” Holbrook asked, his voice pitched low in a drowsy purr that intensified his southern drawl. Arousal flared in the pit of my stomach, chasing away the remnants of my fear as it settled warm and heavy in the crux of my thighs.

  “No,” I replied with a yawn, reaching my free hand down to scratch behind Loki’s ears, earning a deep rumbling purr of contentment.

  I wonder if Holbrook would purr the same way if I scratched behind his... I wondered, and then quickly closed off the thought before my daydreams carried me away. Wrestling down thoughts of rumpled sheets and sweat slickened skin I puzzled over what was wrong with me. Samson was on the loose, trekking across New Mexico to find me, and here I was fantasizing about the FBI agent in the next room.

  “You hungry?” he asked, jolting me out of my thoughts but leaving the interwoven threads of confusion and desire in the back of my mind.

  I was about to say no, not sure if I could face him without blushing a dozen different shades of red, when my stomach growled. “I guess I could eat.”