Lilith Saintcrow - Hunter's Prayer

The Sorrows don’t like holy objects. Anything consecrated with love is anathema to them. The ruby, a soul-link between me and my teacher, would be doubly so.

“You weren’t planning on calling in Were backup,” Theron finally said, his hands dangling loosely as he crouched with peculiar ease. “Right?”

I blinked. Shrugged under the blanket. “Sorrows.” My voice was husky. “Dangerous.”

He waved that away with one sharp, economical movement. “You need to take some time off and clear your fucking head out. That was a stupid fucking decision, hunter. We’re allied with your kind for a reason. ”

“I didn’t know what it was.” I sounded exhausted even to myself. And pained.

“When Saul came ’round asking questions about wendigo, that was the time we started taking notice. We could have trapped it more effectively if you’d coordinated with us.” He sighed. Eyed me speculatively before getting to the point. “Mikhail would have kicked your ass for this Lone Ranger shit.”

Mikhail. I’d failed him; his killer had outplayed me and gotten away. Again.

Theron shifted a little, as if preparing to stand upright. “We put the word on the wind, Jill. Wherever that bitch goes, sooner or later she’s going to run across a Were. She’s under the Hunt.”

“But—” I started to protest. Sorrows were dangerous, and Weres coming across them often died.

“But fucking nothing. We’ll deliver her head one of these days, or she’ll come back to fuck with you again and we’ll joint her like a pig. Quit the Lone Ranger shit, Jill. It’s detrimental to the safety of the citizens of Santa Luz.” His smile broadened. “Besides, your ass is a lot cuter than Mikhail’s. I’d hate to have to chat up a whole new hunter.”

“I heard that,” came Saul’s voice from the kitchen. “Get out of here, Theron. Go chase some chickens.”

“You’re a fine one to talk, Dustcircle. I’m going.” Theron rose to his feet with the fluid grace of a Were. He leaned down and touched my forehead, smoothing my hair back. His voice dropped. “Peace in your dreaming, hunter. We’ll bring you a head one of these days.”

Then he was gone, and I shut my eyes, curling into the couch, and cried. Saul left the kitchen and half picked me up, held me, we ended up on the floor under the blanket while I sobbed and he murmured soothing nonsense in my ear, until I fell asleep again and woke up in my own bed with him beside me, trying to calm me down as I screamed from the dream of being chained to the cold glassy stone and feeling the thing from outside try to force its way into me.

But Saul was there. And his warmth was enough to keep that thing at bay.

I shrugged into my new leather trenchcoat, my fingers running over the handle of the new bullwhip. Replacing gear gets expensive, but the FBI’s hazard pay was a nice chunk.

“You sure you want to do this?” Saul’s mouth pulled down bitterly. Afternoon sun slanted through the windows, bars of thick gold. Spring was right around the corner, or at least I hoped so.

I held up a hand, watched it shake just a little. Concentrated, and it kept steady, my fingers easing. The scar was warm under the new leather cuff. “I’ve got to tell him I’m going on vacation. Five minutes.”

“You shot him in the head. ” Saul folded his arms. His dark eyes rested on me, then slid down to the floor. “He wasn’t happy, kitten. He said some pretty nasty things.”

“He broke through a Sorrows circle and faced down a Chaldean god to—”

“Because he thinks he owns you, kitten. Because he’s hellbreed. He’d rather kill you himself than have another demon touch you. Why don’t we just go?” He’d already loaded the suitcases in the Impala, and I wasn’t due to get a new pager for another three weeks.

Because I have to finish this. I checked the action of each gun before I holstered it; the knives were new too. “I wish we could have found my gear,” I muttered. “Goddammit.”

Then another fit of trembling hit, and Saul was suddenly there, his arms around me. He hunched down a little so I could bury my face in the hollow of his throat and breathe him in, deep. All the way down to the bottom of my lungs.

But still, I smelled ambergris. And a breath of foul reek that seemed to stay on my skin no matter how raw I scrubbed myself.

Andy’s apprentice was staying up above Micky’s, in the apartment kept for visiting hunters. Anja’s apprentice, nearly a hunter himself, was due in on the evening train; Galina would meet him and get him settled. The Weres would come out of the barrio and run regular patrols. But it had been quiet since the demolition of the Sorrows House.

Thank God.

Saul stroked my back, slid his hands under the coat, and pulled my T-shirt up. His palms met my skin, he flattened his hands and pulled me closer, closer. I could barely breathe, but that’s the way I wanted it.

The waves of trembling went down, silver charms shifting and chiming against each other in my hair. Each wave was a little less intense than the last. He murmured soothingly, little nonsense-words, purring in ’cougar until they stopped. Even then he held me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Breathed him in. Musk, male, leather, the best smell in the world. Safe. I whispered his name, over and over again.

The fit passed. He rubbed his chin against the top of my head, his heartbeat thundering against mine. “Sorry,” I finally mumbled into his chest. “Sorry, Christ I’m sorry—”

“Mmmh. What the hell for?” He kissed my hair. “I like holding you.”

My eyes were squeezed shut, dampness slicking my cheeks. “Saul?”

“Jill.”

“I did something wrong. I… I’m not a nice person.” That wasn’t what I wanted to say.

I didn’t want you to see what I was capable of. I didn’t want you to know. What am I going to do? I can’t stand to lose you. Oh, God, I can’t stand to lose you.

I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him about the little click inside my head, how I could move outside myself and calmly, coldly, commit murder. How I had slaughtered eleven men who hadn’t had a chance, because they were human and I’m a hunter. And not only that, I’d ruthlessly used the advantage of my bargain with Perry not only to get information but also to… to what? I could have gotten the information and left them alive. Crippled, maybe, but alive.

I could have. But I didn’t. I evened the score, my score.

I played God.

“No,” he agreed. “You’re not.”

Silence. His hands tightened, pulling me even closer.

“But.” He nuzzled my hair. “You’re a good person, Jillian. Not nice, but good.”

“I killed them.” The words were dust in my mouth.

“Yeah.” Neutral agreement.

“I killed them because of someone else, what someone else did to me.” Another shudder slammed through my abused body. He steadied me. “Don’t leave me,” I whispered, so softly I wasn’t sure he could hear, even with a Were’s acuity.

He sighed, a heavy movement that pushed against my own ribs. “Not going anywhere, kitten. Count on it.”

Relief smashed into my heart, a pain so sharp and sudden I might have been having a cardiac arrest. “Saul—”

“I want you to meet my people,” he said, slowly and clearly, as if talking to an idiot. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go and get formal. Hitched. Under the Moon. Full ceremony, with a feast afterward. You thinking of backing out?”

“No. No. ” I shook my head, rubbing my chin against his shirt. “Good God, no. I just… I’m not a nice person, Saul. I’m not. ”