Hunting the Dark (8 page)

It was worth a try.

‘Goodnight, Moth,’ Jace said, his eyes drifting shut.

‘Sleep well,’ I replied, trying desperately to stop my eyes from flickering in the direction of his jacket.

I made sure to be a little more noisy than necessary as I left the room, half closing the door and peeking back in at him. Within half an hour he was fast asleep and I’d already pick-pocketed him. It was easier than I’d imagined; he must have been exhausted.

I snuck back to my room, clutching my prize and figuring Jace would be safely out for a good few hours. Plenty of time for a little snooping. Once I’d grabbed what I needed from his phone’s contact list, I changed into black jeans and a dark sweater. I laced up my purple Catwoman sneakers – all the better to sneak around in – and pulled on my trusty leather jacket, before slipping silently from the apartment.

I was going to pay the mysterious Quinn a visit. Even if he was as innocent as Jace claimed, he would more than likely have information that I needed. I figured that I’d have no trouble gaining access to the ‘records’ he apparently kept. And if he really was out of town, so much the better.

Famous last words, right?

The hunter’s house crouched in total darkness, which made sense considering how close it was to dawn. If he turned out to be here after all, and Jace had been wrong (or lying) about his current whereabouts, I sure hoped he wasn’t an early riser.

All I wanted was to find a nice, convenient list of vampire hunters currently belonging to the unofficial hunters’ network – maybe ask Quinn a few questions if he was here. And I had to hurry before Jace woke up. He would definitely try to stop me, and I couldn’t face another fight with him. Of
any
kind.

I prowled around the back of Quinn’s place, noticing how sheltered everything was. The perfect home for a hunter – retired or otherwise. Moonlight frosted the trees, a wide ring of them that surrounded the property like silver-topped sentries. I forced myself to take a breath and question what I was actually doing here. I’d been lucky enough to find the location and to return Jace’s phone without him even stirring. Shouldn’t I just turn Quinn over to Theo and the other vamps? It seemed the safest option. Why did I always have to play hero?

Perhaps I was losing my mind. I mean, for real. Perhaps Nicole’s death was already beginning to have some kind of magical effect, via Theo. Perhaps we would both begin to slowly unravel in the wake of the beautiful Elder’s demise.

Because,
this
? This was crazy.

I pushed away all thoughts of my impending trip to Crazy Town. Far away. Now was the time to act, not to stand around getting overwhelmed by fear for Theo – and what it might mean for me as one of his fledglings. He never would tell me how many vampires he had Made. Believe me, I’d asked him. Many times. All he would tell me is:
Not as many as you seem to believe.

To which I would always reply:
Then why don’t you just freaking tell me?

He just growled at me that it was none of my business, and that when I was older I’d understand. Honestly, being a vampire is sometimes worse than being a teenager.

An owl hooted somewhere above me, making me jump and shaking me out of my confused inner monologue.

I chose a window at the rear of the house. Shadows seemed to flow across the grass as a gust of wind blew through the yard, disturbing tree branches and nightlife alike. My original plan had been to gain access via the roof to reduce the chance of leaving a trail – being a vampire meant I was good at climbing – but for someone who was supposed to be light on her feet, I could be pretty accident-prone. It was embarrassing. I figured I was safer down here with my feet firmly on the ground.

The most easily accessible first-floor window was locked up tight behind a screen.
Who had screens over their windows in the center of Boston?
Maybe they were meant to keep out larger bloodsuckers than mosquitoes. I removed the screen with a quick tug and rested it against the wall, then forced the window by jerking hard and sharp with my vamp-strength. The dull
crack
seemed to echo through the night air like a gunshot. I cringed as glass fell.

‘Oops,’ I whispered.

Luckily the glass shards hit soft carpet, but still  . . . Probably better just to get this over with in case Quinn
was
asleep inside. I didn’t think he was, though. The house felt quiet and empty.

I paused for a moment before climbing inside, just to make certain. Nothing stirred. Knowing my luck, the hunter would have a particularly vicious guard dog, but that didn’t appear to be the case so I soldiered on. Dogs liked me, anyway. The O’Neal family dog, Oscar, hadn’t treated me any different since I was Made, a fact I took great comfort from. Maybe I didn’t smell dead, after all.

I jumped into the darkened room beyond, getting tangled in moth-eaten (ha!) velvet curtains and almost tripping over as I landed softly on the carpeted floor of a living room. Righting myself just in time, I scanned my surroundings. Everything was eerily visible in the pre-dawn grayness that streaked the sky and filtered through the gaps in the curtain. Even if it had been pitch dark, I would still have been able to see pretty clearly with my enhanced sight.

Now to check the place really was as empty as it seemed. Never take things at face value, I reminded myself. Remember what Kyle – God rot his soul – taught you. He might have turned out to be a back-stabbing traitor, but Theo’s old Enforcer had known a thing or two about stealth missions.

I let my eyes adjust to the half-darkness of the room, sniffing the air and wondering what the smell was that made my nose wrinkle and my stomach contract. It was a strange and familiar combination of scents. Complicated, and yet also simple: hot and cold at the same time. Thick and cloying and metallic.

Blood.

I could smell blood in the home of my number one lead in Nicole’s murder. My admittedly rather hopeful shot at clearing Jace’s name.

The enticing scent surrounded me, intoxicating.

I trotted out of the room and headed for the stairs. The blood called to me, leading me in the direction that I needed to go.

The kitchen was on the way, so I made myself stop and poke my head inside. An old-fashioned wall oven and stove took up one corner, while a small refrigerator hummed in another. I could detect the faint whiff of garlic and chilli, meaning that someone had most likely been cooking recently. It smelled good – the whole garlic thing is a myth, in case you were wondering.

Sighing, I headed back to the staircase and crept to the landing above, to the source of the blood. The house was a double-decker, so there were only two levels to worry about in my search. I counted three bedrooms in all, one with the door ajar so that I could see it had been converted into an office. The bathroom door was wide open, a towel discarded in the center of the white-tiled floor. The towel was a dark color that I couldn’t quite make out in the gloom, but it looked creepily like a pool of blood. I turned away and kept moving.

The thick coppery smell I’d been following filled my nostrils once more, hitting me so hard it felt like someone had slapped me in the face. Hunger twisted through me, hot and violent and demanding.
Crap.
I should have fed before traveling here, but I had no idea that I’d find something like this. Whatever
this
turned out to be.

I opened door number two, my nose leading the way.

The monster inside me licked her lips, making my stomach churn. I shivered, denying the urge. Grabbed hold of it and pushed it down, deep down into the very bottom of my being where I hoped it would stay put. Of course, that didn’t mean
she
– the other me – wouldn’t come back to haunt me later, but I’d worry about her then. Tonight I had to handle myself.

But by then I was fully focused on the scene before me and had to swallow an explosive wave of nausea  . . . chased with bottomless hunger. ‘Crap,’ I whispered. ‘Crappity-freaking-crap.’

It became immediately and horrifically clear that the vampire hunter wasn’t going to be answering my questions any time soon. All the effort Jace had expended trying to protect his dad’s old buddy now seemed pointless.

Quinn was dead. Savagely, and very definitely, murdered.

I stood looking down at the body and tried to hold back the visceral desire to fall to my knees and taste the man’s blood.

This is what I had become. This is what I tried to tell Caitlín, no matter how much she still loved me and believed in me. I’m a monster, through and through, no matter how many jokes I crack and no matter how much I want it
not
to be true.

Freshly killed human being? I could feel the disgust and desire mingling in my stomach and making my mouth water. My fangs extended and I had to dig my nails into my palms – hard enough to draw my
own
blood – just to resist the urge to feed. Hunger scraped me hollow and I almost gave in to her  . . . to Moth.

I would
not
do this. I couldn’t let myself do it.

‘I’m not an animal,’ I whispered. ‘I will
not
be a monster. My name is Marie Katherine O’Neal and I’m better than this.’

With trembling hands I fumbled my cell phone from my pocket, flipping to the photo I’d taken of Caitlín just the other day. I searched every detail of her face, gazed into those familiar, laughing eyes  . . . anything to get a hold of myself. Anything that might remind me of who I really am – or, at the very least, who I
want
to be.

‘Bring me back,’ I whispered to my sister’s static, smiling image. ‘Let me stay with you.’

Slowly, the bloodlust began to fade. The ache in my gut remained, but at least my fangs had receded and I could look at the body again without seeing my next meal.

I didn’t drink from humans. Not like this, not ever. I only fed from blood bags, ‘liberated’ from the local hospital – because that made it oh-so-much better, right? That’s what I told myself, anyway. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t lose control. I was still too new at all this, too vulnerable. Maybe I should rethink my dream of returning to college. Could I trust myself?

Shaking my head to clear the primitive need buzzing in my head like a swarm of bees, I pocketed my phone and forced myself to kneel beside Quinn’s lifeless remains. His crutches were discarded close by and one of them was broken clean in half. There was a shotgun lying just centimeters from his hand – the kind you’d expect to see on a different kind of hunter – and a bloodstained dagger a little further away. Clearly, there had been a fight, but I needed to do better than that.

I tried to figure out what had happened. How he’d died such a violent death.

And, far more importantly,
who
had killed him. Probably the blood on that knife was a more than excellent clue, but it wasn’t like I could go all CSI and have it analyzed.

I had no idea how much time I’d have before someone discovered the body. Would it be Jace who found his father’s old friend? Did Quinn have family, other friends who might pay him a visit when they didn’t hear from him? More hunters?

Here was yet another person that Jace had lost. I couldn’t help thinking that, even as I fought for control over my baser instincts.

I needed to get out of here, breathe the night air and separate myself from the blood, but maybe if I stayed I would find something useful. Something that might help Theo – and Jace. Some kind of clue. If nothing else, there might be a piece of evidence that linked Quinn to Nicole’s death – or a trail pointing toward someone else. Perhaps another hunter ‘colleague’. Could I metaphorically throw Quinn under the bus and frame him? He was dead now, anyway, so what did it really matter? Let his death have some meaning, right? I might even be able to plant some evidence that I could then take to Theo in order to get Jace off the hook, and I couldn’t pass up that chance – no matter how slim.

I know, I know  . . . I’m an idiot. I can’t help it. But I knew Jace wasn’t responsible for any of this mess. I believed him – and not just because I liked him, but because I truly didn’t think he was capable of ending Nicole. He certainly didn’t have a motive.

Then again, the whole thing had happened so quickly. The sneakiest of sneak attacks. It’s not like anybody had to actually
fight
, which gave me a horrible sense of how vulnerable even the most powerful of us could be. Perhaps Theo was right; the older vamps really had gotten complacent.

Forcing myself not to inhale the lingering smell of death, I began searching the house. Swiftly cooling blood had seeped into my jeans, but I resolutely turned my attention away from that and tried to keep busy, methodically going from room to room, looking for something that might help me to make sense of this. Quinn had kept records, becoming an intel expert since his forced retirement from physical hunts. There had to be a lead of some kind, and if there was I would find it.

I
am
the vampire Veronica Mars, right?

The house seemed depressingly stripped down, showing all the signs of someone who lived a simple life. The life of a military man, with only the very barest of essentials. Nothing flashy. Nothing to tell me anything real about who Quinn had been.

Except  . . . for the fancy computer in the office I’d seen earlier. Now
that
must have cost a few dollars. Seemed like a strange thing for such a minimalist sort of guy to own. If it had been a laptop I could have just taken it with me, but I didn’t want to carry the tower outside and risk damaging it in some way. Also, the screensaver had still been active, meaning that Quinn could have been using it recently. No harm in taking a quick peek.

I’m good with computers – it’s a neat skill to have when Theo wants me to falsify birth and death information for members of the Boston Family. That kind of deception becomes necessary when you live for a long time. A
very
long time. I realize that it’s not ethical, but you could argue that the very existence of vampires isn’t exactly ethical. We survive on human blood. That’s sort of a problem. When you get right down to it, a few hacked genealogy databases isn’t really the end of the world.