Jess Haines - Stalking the Others

“Looking for a job, pretty girl? Or a good time?”

Nikki handled his proposition with more aplomb than I would have managed. “A little of both, baby. You think you can handle this?”

I missed whatever they said next. Between Keith and Bo’s laughing so hard, Jason’s making some kind of lewd comment, and Jack’s shouting from the driver’s seat for everybody to can it, it was impossible to hear anything. Everything simmered down once Nikki got up from her bar stool and took Vic’s arm. They were headed for the exit.

Showtime.

Bo, Patrick, Jason, and Adam reached for their weapons. Mine were already on me, and it took effort to keep from surging to my feet and shoving my way past the men to the rear of the van. Jack eased his door open, not wanting to startle the target. We kept an eye on the video feed to make sure Nikki was leading Vic to the darker side of the building where we were hoping to pin him and force him to tell us where Chaz and the other Sunstrikers were hiding.

Everything was going according to plan. She tugged him away when he was making as if to go to his car, gesturing to the alley. Judging by the sudden leer and eagerness on his face, she must have given him one hell of a suggestive look. He practically shoved her toward the shadows.

That was our cue. Bo was the first out the door, and I was the last. I wasn’t expecting it when Patrick grabbed me by the throat and yanked me back against the side of the van. The man had huge hands. He leaned right into me, his nose nearly touching mine, as he opened his mouth to speak.

I socked him in the solar plexus, and he staggered back with a groan, releasing me to clutch his stomach. With the belt’s help, that little tap would have been nearly as painful as being punched by a shifted Were. Jogging to catch up with the others, I didn’t look back. Jason and Adam paused when I passed, looking over their shoulders.

Moving to Jack’s side, I reached for one of my handguns, now loaded with silver bullets courtesy of the Highly Illegal White Hat Weapons Emporium. They didn’t trust me to be on the front line yet. Jack was supposed to move in to hit Vic with a stun gun as soon as he was distracted. Bo, Patrick, and Adam were going to wrap him in silver-plated chains. Jason and I were backup, meant to shoot to wound the Were if things got too hairy or he broke out of the chains. We needed to question, not kill, Vic Thomasian.

Once Patrick stalked over to us, he wouldn’t look at me. I returned the favor, though he did growl something at me under his breath.

“Same to you, buddy,” I muttered.

Jack shook his head, then gestured for us to follow. He whipped around the corner and dashed forward. I couldn’t see Vic around the linebacker shoulders of Bo, Patrick, and Adam, but judging by the sounds of things, he wasn’t going down easy.

“What the fuck?” Vic’s voice. Followed by a meaty thump. There was no telltale crackle of the stun gun going off. Had Jack dropped it? “Shit! Ow!”

I still couldn’t see clearly around the men, but they weren’t using the chains effectively. The Were was using his fists, pummeling them, shoving them off, hissing every time one of the chains brushed and burned his bare skin. The smell of cooked meat and charred hair was contributing to the already considerable stink of the area.

Vic was a good fighter for a beta wolf. He’d gone deadly silent save for small sounds of pain from the silver, backhanding Nikki out of the way when she shoved a butterfly knife between his ribs. Even wounded, he was a formidable opponent. The guys were getting their asses kicked.

With a heave, Vic threw Jack into Bo with inhuman strength, sending the two men sprawling. Nikki hadn’t gotten back to her feet, and Adam and Patrick weren’t doing so hot, either. Adam tried to get the chain he was holding around Vic’s throat while he was distracted, but the Were tore it out of his hands and flung it aside, leaving Adam weaponless. They were too close for me or Jason to get off a shot without potentially hurting one of the hunters.

Patrick managed to get the silver around one of Vic’s wrists, which brought the Were to his knees with a harsh cry of pain. Before Patrick or Adam could grab his other wrist, the Were used Patrick’s grip to jerk him off his feet and slam him bodily into Adam. Stunned, the two men collapsed as Vic leapt to his feet—straight at Jason.

The hunter kept his cool. I’ll give him that. Before he was tackled, he got off a single shot that clipped Vic’s shoulder and chipped the dirty brick wall. The bullet ricocheted and whined off to disappear somewhere in the dark. Tucking my own gun away, I sprinted forward as Vic tackled Jason to the ground, fighting for the gun with the hand that wasn’t wrapped in silver chain.

I kicked the Were in his wounded side where Nikki’s knife still protruded. He voiced a coughing snarl and rolled away, getting to his feet in a fluid movement that I might have admired if I hadn’t been so busy trying to take his ass down.

Though I was intending to shoot out one of his knees, the belt overrode my plan and sent me rocketing after the fleeing Were instead.

“What the hell!”

‘Go, get it, get it, now,’ it demanded. ‘Faster, move, just move!’

Though I stumbled, trying to wrest control of my body back from the belt, I couldn’t stop running. “Stop it! Don’t do this!”

‘Shut up and let me drive,’ it demanded.

I had no control over my movements. We left the other hunters far behind, the Were running in smooth strides that would have prevented a normal human from ever keeping up. The stench of Dumpsters and cheap beer was soon left behind, replaced by the salt stink of the wharf and the heavily panic-laced musk of Were.

He was fleeing. Running. From me.

He couldn’t get away. I wouldn’t let him.

Something inside me clicked into place, and with a hunger I had never before experienced eating at my insides, I gave in to the chase. Every step brought me nearer to closing the distance between us.

We ran between buildings. People. Cars. I didn’t get any of it except as blurred impressions as I passed. My entire focus was on the beast running from me. I could almost see it. The fur and the fangs and the madness under that human skinsuit. The monster hiding below the surface. The thing I had to rid this world of, because there was nothing more important than making sure there was one less moon-chaser on the prowl tonight.

Once I gave in to the belt’s urging, keeping up with Vic wasn’t difficult. He sensed he was being chased, obviously, but he didn’t make any effort to check who was after him until he’d run perhaps a mile from the strip joint. There was a flash of mixed puzzlement and recognition in his expression as he glanced at me over his shoulder.

Two blocks from the gas station we’d blasted past, he turned a hard left into the dark between a body shop and a boarded-up building.

He was waiting for me, though I wasn’t far behind, once I rushed into the shadows after him. I don’t know if it was because I was a girl or because he recognized me that he decided to stop. It wasn’t a bad place for a confrontation.

I managed to skid to a halt before plowing into him. He made a grab for me that I avoided, hopping back a few steps to keep out of what would no doubt be a bone-crushing grip. The armor I wore was meant to stop claws or fangs, not that kind of pressure.

His eyes glowed with an eerie, yellowish luminescence in the dark, and he was baring his teeth, which were flat and fangless. Even with all the pain he’d endured, he wasn’t able to force a partial shift outside the full moon. That meant he was weak—for a werewolf—though he could still tear me apart with his bare hands if I got too close.