Something was testing my wards. I came instantly awake, reaching for my sword. When my hand failed to find the sword, I realized where I was and leaped out of bed to the corner of the room, putting the wall behind me and pulling energy from the ley line running in front of the building.
In a near-panic, I crept toward the window, parting the blind a fractional amount so I could look out the window. The first light of dawn could be seen in the east. It took a few moments of scanning the scene below me to find a shadowy figure among the trees near the stream.
Another push against the wards, stronger than the first attempt. I fed a little energy into the wards to strengthen them but held most of the power I gathered in reserve. I searched for other presences but found only the one person. A third push came, then the figure below slipped away through the trees.
The clouds briefly broke, revealing the moon, and in that bare moment of light, I caught a good look at my attacker before the clouds closed again.
It was the Hunter. He had found me.
Chapter 15
Trevor had found quite a bit about the members of the Columbia Club and identified more members in addition to the ones I had found. Altogether, he gave me information on thirty people, all of them men, and in a note that he provided as a cover sheet for his research, he listed them and marked those he knew were paranormals or supernaturals. He found evidence that Lord Carleton had been a member, as was the alpha of a major Westport werewolf pack.
What he didn’t find, or didn’t document, was how the members communicated with each other, where they met, how often they met, or even if they ever met. Totally frustrating. If I was still a Hunter, with an unlimited credit card, I would simply pick one and follow him around until I knew what color toothbrush he used, let alone who he met with and screwed. But I had to eat, and work took up most of my week.
I went in to Rosie’s and had lunch sitting at the bar. When the lunch rush wound down and Sam had some time, I told him what I suspected about the Columbia Club and what Trevor had found.
Sam was quiet while I talked, then said, “I’m not entirely sure where you’re going with this.”
“The Hunter showed up at my place last night and tested my wards.”
“You’re sure it was a Hunter?”
Shrugging, I said, “Three brute force attacks. Mage magic, not a spell. As to whether it was a Hunter, I’m pretty sure it was the same guy I saw who beheaded the vampire. Either him or someone dressed exactly like him, all in black, and carrying a sword.”
“And how does that tie in to this Columbia Club?”
“Someone told him where I live. Now, who do Blair and Frankie Jones report to? Frankie’s father and boss are members of that club.” I pushed the member list Trevor compiled across the bar. “Maybe I’m paranoid, but I don’t think these guys are getting together to play cards. I think someone is making a power move and called in a Hunter or some other kind of paranormal ninja to stir things up, and maybe take out any opposition. Sam, I don’t know what all Blair and Frankie might know, but to my knowledge, I’m the only one who has actually seen the guy killing all these vamps.”
Sam thought about it, then asked, “Did he physically try to get into your place?”
“No. You know that stream that runs behind the apartment complex?”
“Sloman’s Creek.”
“He was in the trees along the stream, a couple of hundred feet away from my apartment.”
“And what would you have done if he breached your wards?”
“Run like hell.”
He nodded. “Smart girl.”
I would run if I could. For all I knew, he wasn’t alone. Although some senior Hunters worked alone, most Hunters worked in pairs. A common tactic was to flush the quarry into an ambush by their partner. And Sam was right that I couldn’t automatically assume the guy I saw in the alley downtown was the same one outside my apartment. If I faced a pack of them, I might as well jump in the ocean. I was good, but not that good, especially since I was unarmed. But the fact remained that someone told him where I lived. The vampires knew, the cops knew, and a few people at Rosie’s knew. That sort of narrowed the list of possibilities.
Trevor came in that evening, sat at the bar, and ordered dinner.
“Did you tell anyone about the research I asked you to do?” I asked as I served him a beer.
“Nope. Why?”
“Not even Josh or Jolene?”
He shook his head. “Nobody’s business but yours. I keep my customers by being discreet.”
“The Hunter attacked my wards last night. Could anyone have detected the searches you did for me?”
“Absolutely not. My security is airtight, and I’m careful. Without going into detail, let’s just say that if my methods could be detected, I’d be in jail by now.”
I chuckled. “Either you’re supremely arrogant, or you’re really good, huh?”
He winked at me. “I’m good enough to be that arrogant. I’ll tell you a little secret. Very, very few hackers are also electrokinetics. I have traps and protections laid that are undetectable by standard science. Anyone who tries to hack me or eavesdrop on me is risking a burned-out computer.”
Which left me with my first guess—that Frankie had reported me seeing the Hunter, and what I had said about Hunters during her interrogations, to someone who cared.
Sam had an agreement with one of the nightclubs a block farther down the road that Rosie’s employees could park in their lot. Steve Dworkin and I left work after our shift was over and walked to his truck, but before we got there, a dozen men stepped from the shadows. I shielded immediately. Getting accosted when I was tired at the end of my shift was getting very old.
“Are you the girl who found our packmates out on Southern Peninsula?” one asked. He had reddish-brown and white-streaked hair that fell over his collar, and a bushy beard to match.
“You know what I hate most about dealing with werewolves?” Steve asked me in a conversational tone. “Burning wolf hair really, really stinks.”
A two-foot pyre of flame sprung from his open palm.
“Hey, wait! You got us all wrong!” the guy with red hair said. “We just want to ask the lady some questions.”
“You obviously know where I work,” I said. “You could have come in and asked your questions.”
“Not our kind of place,” another man with gray, frosty hair said.
“You need a dozen men to ask a little lady a question?” Steve asked.
“We travel in groups for protection,” the first guy said.
“Didn’t help your friends,” I said.
The guy shook his head. “No, it didn’t. Look, we didn’t mean to scare you. Can we sit down and talk?”
I glanced at Steve, who said, “Come on back to Rosie’s with us.”
So, Steve and I and three of the shifters walked back to the bar. I noticed that the werewolves seemed to have more trouble walking through the door than Steve and I did.
We grabbed a table, and I took everyone’s orders to the bar and brought the drinks back. The guy with frosty hair handed me two twenties and said, “Keep the change.”
“The cops won’t tell us shit,” redhead said. “We were hoping you could tell us what happened.”
“I was out jogging and found them in the rocks, about three feet apart, in a circle with all their heads facing inward. I don’t know if that means anything to you, but it doesn’t to me.” I said. “Their throats were torn out, but the wounds were very clean. Almost no blood, and no other wounds that I could see. No signs of a struggle, no footprints. The police forensics lady said she didn’t think it was vampires, and I agree with her. It looked staged.”
They exchanged glances with each other, then frosty asked, “No signs of a struggle and no other wounds?”
I nodded. “That’s right. For what it’s worth, me not being an expert in dead wolves, I think whoever killed them immobilized them first, then slit their throats and worried the wounds to make it look like their throats were torn out. If the pathology reports don’t show any drugs in their systems, then I would guess their killer used magic.”
“And they were all completely shifted?” frosty asked.
I nodded. “I called the police because I didn’t think wolves came into the city, and because of their size. I’ve seen a couple of real wolves, and they weren’t anywhere near that big.”
“And what kind of magic would it take to make a wolf hold still while you slit his throat?” the third guy asked.
I shrugged. “Put him to sleep or simply immobilize him. You know, just hold him in place.” I turned to Steve. “I don’t really know how to describe it in another way.”
Steve shook his head. “I don’t either.” He turned to the shifters. “A witch would cast a spell, and a mage would draw power and wrap it around the person or creature he wanted to hold. It would be a terrifying way to die, unable to move while someone slit your throat. Much better if it was a witch casting a sleep spell.”
“What kind of power would that take to hold three wolves while you killed them?” redhead asked.
I had been thinking about that since I found the bodies.
“I’ve no idea,” I said. “I don’t know if they were all killed at the same time, or even if they were killed where I found them. Any competent adult mage could probably manage to hold one wolf, but three? With no signs of a struggle or any wounds? Your guess is as good as mine.”
I finally received a paycheck, so the following morning I took the bus to a bank Eleanor recommended, and then went to a grocery store. As I trudged home carrying four bags of food, Eleanor came out of the office with an envelope and tucked it into my coat pocket.
“A man was here earlier and left that for you,” she said.
“What did he look like?”
“Fifties, dark hair, wearing a business suit. He was driving a fancy black car. I’ve never seen him before.” She reached out and took two of my bags. “Let me give you a hand with that.”