Emergence (The Primogenitor Chronicles Book 1) (9 page)

How long have I been at this? Gods, I almost can’t remember when I slept last.
She rested her head against the tree trunk, weeping quietly and wishing she could just lie down and sleep.
I am so tired.

But that’s not going to stop them, is it?
The insistent little voice inside her prodded. Sniffling, she gathered her wits, wiping her face on her shoulder, and started to climb down. Hanging from the last branch, she dropped to the ground. Her injured leg buckled underneath her and she stifled a cry, hoping the noise didn’t alert any of the recovery team. Limping, she tried to rub the pitch off of her hands as she made her way to the edge of the park. Keeping an eye out for any stray searchers, she skirted the shrubbery near the houses.

Ducking between two buildings that were well away from any of the paved entrances, she used their plantings as cover to hide and look out onto the activity on the street.
A lot more going on now than there was a few hours ago. It’s going to be nearly impossible to walk by unnoticed. At this rate I’m going to become the ten o’clock news.

The hope that had been sustaining her waned rapidly as she watched the numbers of people moving about. In her condition, she wouldn’t be able to pass unnoticed. Jessica crouched underneath the rhododendron, trying to figure a way out. A loud clang drew her attention to a work truck parked in front of a house three doors down. A painter had just finished loading his ladder onto the roof rack, after which he threw a tarp over the contents in the bed of the truck. Tension thrummed through her and a small spark of hope rekindled. Now if only the workman would move away…
Yes!
She hissed gleefully as he went back into the house. Slinking out from under the bush, she quickly slipped up to the truck, and lifting the tarp, crawled under it. Squirming around, she tried to quietly make a place among the paint cans and other paraphernalia, planting her hand straight into a wet paint tray in the process. “Ugh…man.” She grabbed a cloth and wiped most of it off before she finished shoving things out of her way. Easing down on her uninjured side, she felt blood trickle down the back of her thigh. She clamped her hand on it again. Finally able to rest her head, she fought the need to sleep.

The truck rocked, jerking Jessica awake. The door slammed and the workman started the car. Closing her eyes, she sighed and relaxed when the vehicle started wending its way through the twisting streets. But too quickly, it slowed to a halt.
Why have we stopped? We only just started. They can’t know I’m here, can they?
Full blown panic a hairs breadth away, she held her breath and waited for the tarp to be pulled off the truck. But instead, she heard voices. Straining her ears, she could just make out what they said.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am, but we must ask you to get out,” a deep, masculine voice asked.

“What is going on?” She heard a woman reply nervously as car doors opened and closed.

“We need to search all vehicles leaving the area.”

“Sir, this one is clean, a different voice called out.

“Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am. You may go,” the first voice said courteously, and Jessica shivered as it seeped into her.

There was a softly mumbled reply and the car door closed. The truck rolled forward a car length.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am, but we must ask you and your children to please get out of the car.”

Hearing that deep voice recite the same litany, Jessica peeked out from under the canvas. Nothing. She couldn’t lift the tarp enough to see beyond the ground at the edge of the truck. Her hearing, though, had become acute enough for her to tell that the speaker wasn’t close to the truck yet. Slowly worming her way around so she didn’t rock the vehicle and alert the driver to his stowaway, she reached the end of the tarp and peeked out the back of the truck. No cars were lined up behind them yet. Carefully, she eased to the ground behind the tailgate and crouched down by the bumper, looking around the driver’s side. Three other cars were lined up in front of the painter’s truck. All stopped and waiting.

A woman stood in the middle of the road, watching the first car, trepidation on her face. The reason for her fear became apparent when another Valkyrie Hunter paced around the front of the vehicle to join her.

Groaning, Jessica dropped her head.

Great. Another Hunter. Just what I needed.
Wearily, she raised her head and watched the scene unfold. The recovery team efficiently searched the interior of the van, followed by the roof and undercarriage.
No way am I getting out in a vehicle.
She scuttled over to the passenger side of the truck and looked around that side. Four kids stood on the sidewalk watching their car being swarmed over.

It was only a matter of time before another car came up behind, so taking a deep breath and praying to any deity who might care to listen, she pushed her leg and quickly ran, crouched, across the sidewalk to fall behind a hedge. Biting her lip to keep from crying out, Jessica squeezed her thigh and felt the blood drip off her fingers. Her breath hissed between her teeth, but she regained her feet and turned back to check and see if she had been observed. The youngest child looked in her direction, but he turned away after a moment, apparently uninterested in her. Jessica closed her eyes for a second then grimly turned and slipped into the backyard.

“Good afternoon, sir. I’m sorry for the delay, but we need to ask you to allow us access to your truck.” Donald stepped back so the workman could open his door and get out.

The man looked pointedly at Donald’s wings. “Sure, why not. Who believes in the constitution these days? Search warrants are just a waste of paper, anyway,” he grumbled. “Here, let me get that.” The painter quickly moved to the side of his truck and folded up the tarp. “So, what’s going on?”

Donald cast a brief glance at the workman before returning to overseeing the search. “We have a young woman who escaped the recovery teams trapped in this neighborhood. We just need to make sure she doesn’t hitch any rides past the checkpoints.”

“Donald, I think you should see this,” one of the searchers called from the other side of the truck.

A note in the searcher’s voice focused his attention, and Donald saw that the man looked intently at something in the back. Walking over, he saw what could possibly be blood in the back of the truck, along with a small handprint in some spilled paint. He glanced at the painter and asked, “Were you using any red paint?”

The workman shook his head no as he looked at the blood and the spilled paint. “I didn’t spill any.”

“Donald, can you tell anything more in here?” the searcher asked.

They lowered the tailgate and he carefully crawled through the stuff in the truck. He gently touched the red puddle, rubbing the wetness between his fingers before raising it to his nose, inhaling. “Definitely blood. And the print is way too small to belong to the workman.” Donald blinked slowly, a strange surge running through him with the blood scent. “Stephen, call Nickolas, tell him we’ve found sign of her.” He shivered then worked his way out of the truck, trying not to disturb what sign she left.
Nickolas is going to want to have a look at this.

As his feet touched the ground, he could hear Stephen on the radio. “Sir, you need to come over to checkpoint C; we’re at the northern exit. We have found sign of her.” The radio crackled and they heard the reply.

“Right. We’re on the way.”

Arriving at checkpoint C, Nickolas and Christoff dropped down to land in the road. Giving his wings a shake to settle them in place, Nickolas walked over to where Donald and his team had the work truck detained.

“Nick. Chris.” The burly Valkyrie nodded his dark head in greeting. “We’ve got blood and a handprint in the bed of the truck. I figured you should take a closer look. Her scent is all over the back.”

Nickolas looked at the truck then at Christoff.
Too risky for Chris to see. With this much blood involved, I’m bound to get hit hard.
His brother had enough ammunition already. “Chris, you and Donald look around and see if you can find where her tracks start again. I’ll take the truck.”

“Sure thing, Nick. Donald, did you see or sense anything from her?”

“’Fraid not. I was focused on the cars in front of me.”

Nickolas listened to their conversation absently as he circled the truck. He could see her blood smeared in places all over the back. They were like hot spots on a thermal reading to his developing senses. Though so far, nothing pointed to where her injuries were, or how severe. That she was still losing blood was another worry to add on top of everything else. He stopped at the lowered tailgate where he bent down and inhaled. The scent pulled at him, stirring something inside that he couldn’t identify.

He crawled in and studied the cleared place she’d so recently occupied.
Ok. Let’s try this again, shall we?
Nickolas took a deep breath before he hesitantly placed his hand into the largest spot of blood. He stiffened as a jumble of images assaulted his mind, stronger for having such a large quantity to act as a carrier. Nickolas hissed as everything she felt cascaded through him. Unconsciously, he clenched his thigh with his hand, holding the same spot as her wound, as the vision started. He could see her curled up in the truck, then hiding in the bushes watching Donald, then vaguely, a girl and some house. As the images flipped by, her emotional state flavored the knowledge he received, her fear and anxiety, how tired she really was. The true essence of her mind seeped into him, just how demoralized and disordered her thoughts were becoming. A feeling of kinship rose, and Nickolas regretted not being able to give her what she craved so badly, to be left alone. He understood that feeling all too well. He pulled away and quickly wiped his hand with a rag to break the images.

“Humm…”
Something really is happening to me; it’s not just my imagination.
He continued to absently wipe his hand.
Some of what I saw seemed to happen after she left the truck. I wonder what that means?
He stared vacantly out over the cab of the truck into the setting sun.
How am I doing this? I’ve never been able to before.

“Nick…Nick, are you all right?” The hand flapping in front of his face and the question from Donald pulled Nickolas out of his trance.

He glanced at the other Hunter and responded absently, his mind still working over his questions. “Yes, sorry, just lost in thought for a moment. She only left a few minutes ago, probably because the truck was stopped. She’s weakening from hunger and blood loss, I don’t know how much longer she can go on without fatally harming herself. She ran off that way.”

Surprise flashed across Donald’s face and he asked, “Um, really? That’s a lot more detail than I expected.”

Realizing what he had just said and done, Nickolas was brought back to himself, and he looked into Donald’s eyes. The Hunter stared at him strangely. Unbidden, energy surged through Nickolas, filling him, stirring the hair at the nape of his neck, marking the Hunter in front of him.

Donald shifted uneasily, his attention riveting on Nickolas. Nickolas felt something pass between them; a thread of awareness, like a snake’s questing tongue, fed him knowledge. The Hunter’s presence was muted somehow. Blocked. Definitely fuzzier than how Christoff felt at the moment. Emotions flooded Donald’s eyes.

Nickolas tried to pull back, reining in the flow of energy. The subordinate Hunter looked away but not before Nickolas saw the heightened concern aimed at him.