Amelia Atwater-Rhodes - Midnight Predator

“I will.”

Watching his back as he left, she knew she would. To forestall Jaguar’s questions, she asked, “Who’s Kyle Lostry?”

Jaguar looked startled, as if he had not thought about the name when he had used it. “Someone I knew once—and wish I’d had a chance to know better.”

She sensed that there was a story behind the words. “Is he . . .” She broke off, not wanting to ask whether this phantom was alive or dead.

Jaguar volunteered no more. “Is your Greg why you’re thinking of leaving Bruja?” he asked. Turquoise couldn’t tell from his tone or expression what he thought of Greg, or the idea.

She shook her head. “I ran into him yesterday. He somehow managed to remind me of all the things I left behind, after Daryl. . . .” She trailed off. “I don’t know whether I could still follow any of those dreams, or whether I would still want to, but it hurts to know I threw them away.”

Jaguar was still watching Greg, who had paused on the sidewalk to talk to someone else. “He’s too innocent for you. His life is too innocent for you.”

“I know.”

Jaguar shook his head. “I’ve never known anyone who joined our world and then managed to go back to the human one.” Turquoise could see in him the same longing she had once seen as he watched Shayla, and could tell he had tried. “You could thrive in my world; darkness suits you. But if you want it, Greg’s world—the world his Cathy came from—might still be worth fighting for.”

DURING THE NEXT MONTH,Turquoise’s days and evenings became an interesting study in contrasts.

Her mornings were usually domestic. She or Eric would make breakfast and eat together. A couple of times Greg joined them. Turquoise tried valiantly to bridge the gap to the human’s world. He thought she was a freelancer for a small newspaper, a lie that seemed to work well enough. He also thought she was dating Jaguar, a.k.a. Kyle Lostry. The lies were imperfect, but at least it kept him from getting the wrong impression. She could handle having Cathy’s old boyfriend as a friend, but she quickly realized that they would never be as close as they once were. There was too much of her life she could never share with him. The mischief they had planned together and the dates they had gone on were still bright spots of humor and happiness in his mind, whereas Turquoise remembered them as if they were faded black and white photos. Someone else’s memories, from someone else’s life.

In the afternoons, Jaguar came over, and they practiced until midnight every night. During their breaks, Jaguar would fill her in on what was going on in Midnight, and in his town. The owner of the town’s only inn had decided to elope with a young woman he had met on vacation, and the building, one of the few remaining properties Jaguar had not owned, had gone up for sale; now he was just looking for someone to manage it. He was less than subtle in suggesting that Turquoise could have the position, if she wanted it. She dodged him and they went back to practice.

The owner of the local community recreation center wanted to start a course in self-defense for teenagers, and was looking for an assistant. The job sounded more up Turquoise’s alley, but she still shook her head. Challenge first. Then she planned to kill Daryl. Then she would see to the future.

Over the weeks of practice, Turquoise’s own whip had given her almost as many bruises as Daryl ever had, before she had gotten the knack of it and learned not to hit herself. She was lucky Jaguar had amazing reflexes, or she probably would have taken out her own eye more than once.

She and Jaguar dueled occasionally. She used every move, piece of furniture, and dirty trick she could think of, and he kept most of his talent in check to avoid giving her more welts than she cared to receive.

At first she was hesitant to really fight, but Jaguar had offered no mercy until he was sure she was using her full force. He would heal from any wound she managed to give him, but if she got used to trying not to hurt her opponent, the habit would cripple her in a confrontation.

That was not to say Jaguar ever allowed her to hit him. Mostly he managed to evade her blows, recognizing from her form which direction the weapon would move and where it would land. Occasionally he used his own whip to catch hers, snagging the weapon out of her hand until she learned not to relinquish her hold on it.

Two quick snaps from Jaguar, and Turquoise found an X cut neatly into the stomach of her shirt.

“Careless,” Jaguar chastised. She had tried an overhand snap, which left her mid and lower body unprotected, while Jaguar was in a position to attack the vulnerable area. “Do you need a break? It’s late.”

Turquoise took the opportunity, and faked a setup for a low crack. Jaguar moved to avoid the blow, and she brought the movement around a full circle to strike high. It had taken her days to get over her desire to wince at doing so, but she checked none of her ability; the blow landed home, and cut open Jaguar’s skin.

He ignored the injury, which healed too quickly to even bleed, and soon they were again engaged in a no-mercy duel.

It was well past midnight when they finally took a break, and collapsed onto the dew-dampened grass.

Turquoise’s gaze alit on the nearly full moon. Another few days, and she would have her chance to beat Ravyn in the Challenge rematch for leader of Crimson—and she could beat the other hunter. She had been practicing with an expert, and had no doubts as to her skills.

She just didn’t know if she wanted to.

She was getting used to companionship. Eric’s company was always entertaining. She enjoyed having him there for her noontime breakfast, and chatting with him during the day. He liked cooking, and she well-appreciated having dinner made for her; cleaning up afterward was a small price to pay. While domestic chores such as shopping and laundry were dreadfully dull, she was getting into the habit of seeing people.

And as annoying as it could sometimes get to discuss college, work, the news, and whatever else was on the all-too-human young man’s mind, she was even getting used to Greg. His conversations were about normal, innocent life; it was so exotic to her that she could listen to what would otherwise have been dull chatter for hours.

But she couldn’t juggle the two lives forever. As fond as she was becoming of her suburban life, she could not ignore what she knew. A human life would never completely suit her, because most humans would deem her mad if she tried to confide even the smallest hint of her past. And, “Yes, I work nights as a vampire hunter,” usually wasn’t a good line to make new friends with.

Maybe Cathy wasn’t dead, but she had grown. Turquoise couldn’t fit into that old life. Besides, as fond as she was of having companions, sitting around in suburbs was making her gray matter go stagnant. She needed challenge; a break was nice now and then, but boredom was not a state she would tolerate for long.

Save tomorrow for tomorrow. Deal with now first.

THEBRUJA HALLwas not imposing from the outside. Anyone looking at its exterior would see nothing more important than a redbrick house with black trim and white shutters that were always latched.

A phrase was written in Latin beside the door. Translated, it meant, “Enter the den of the hunters.”

The door was unlocked, and Turquoise opened it, stepping forward into the main room of the Bruja hall with Ravyn and, strangely enough, Gabriel at her back. He confirmed Jaguar’s message about the deal Ravyn had made: legal freeblood status to the hunter who won today.

The floor was black marble, with Bruja’s motto carved into it. The light was too dim for Turquoise to read it, but she knew the words by heart: In this world, there are predators and there are prey; only the former survive.