The Killing Season (12 page)

“Do you need a drink or something? Maybe some wine?”

Abigail laughed. Like threw back her head and laughed. It brightened her pale face, gave her some color, some life. Gone was the hollow-boned bird meant for warmer climates. Here was the woman who’d married Killian Aultstriver, who’d been his equal, fierce and determined in the worst ways, before she’d lost her way. I could like this woman. I could like her a lot. I smiled.

This was probably the closest I would ever get to having a mother.

In the bedroom, the door slammed into the dresser, followed by a gruff curse. I jumped down and grabbed the gun as a loud scrape filled the room. The safety was off in a flash, and I was at the bathroom door, ready to kill.

“Just me,” Luke said, shouldering his way into the room. He shoved the dresser back into place. “It’s clear. No ’swangs were inside.”

I switched the safety back on, and handed the gun back to him, handle first. He didn’t even check it before tucking it into the back of his pants. The action had stirred some life back into his face, but the dark circles beneath his eyes still stood out like fresh bruises.

“Then why were the doors open?” I asked. From the bathroom’s door, Luke looked to his mother. Without thinking, I stepped in front of her. “She doesn’t know anything. She woke up covered in blood.”

“Good. That’s good. Keep to that story.”

“Luke, we’re not lying. That’s what she told me.”

“It’s true,” Abigail added, stepping from the bathroom and pulling the robe tighter around her trim form. In the moment, she looked younger than Luke, like a child about to be scolded. She opened her mouth to explain, but she didn’t get to finish.

The bedroom door burst open and Killian Aultstriver, still dressed in his hunting clothes, stormed in, his face a blotchy snarl. His eyes skimmed over Luke and me to land on Abigail. His shoulders slumped, like he’d been racing from room to room, tension coiling his muscles tight, anger riding high, until he found her. He breathed out a tight breath, and for a split second, his face eased up and he didn’t look like such a complete dick.

Killian might have relaxed a margin, but upon his father barging in, Luke went on high alert. I practically felt his nerves snapping with fried rage, his callused fingers rasping against each other as he started his methodical tap-tapping. I blew out a breath. This had been a long-ass night, and, no shit, I wanted to sleep for a week.

“Abigail,” Killian said, his slight softness coming and going with that one word, “go to your room.” Then to us, he added, “Everyone is to be questioned in their quarters. Go straight there and don’t leave until you give your whereabouts during the time of the murder.”

“Christ, Dad.” Luke raked a hand through his disheveled hair. He really did look like shit. “Is that necessary?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Luke. We only have a murderer running lose. Someone who opened the front doors and could have let in every goddamned ’swang in Barrow while everyone slept. Tell me, son. What the fuck would you do?”

Luke’s jaw clenched. From the murderous expressions on their faces, I assumed they were gearing up for World War III, and I wanted nothing to do with it. “If it’s all the same to you two, I’ll walk Mrs. Aultstriver back to her room now.”

I tried to wave and slip out behind Abigail, but Killian intercepted me. When his wife closed the bedroom door behind her, he asked, “What were you doing out in the hall this early in the morning?”

Shit. “Who said I was out in the hall?”

“Luke said you found Abigail at the stairs. What were you doing at the stairs?”

Luke tensed. “That’s not—”

“Shut up,” Killian snapped. “It’s time you stopped protecting her.”

“I protect myself,” I said, just as sharply, “and I was by the stairs because I needed a drink of water.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“You weren’t in my son’s room?”

“Where were you at? Are those the same clothes you wore yesterday? Maybe you were in someone’s room.”
Like Eve’s room
, but I didn’t say that out loud.

Luke cleared his throat, stepping forward, like he was once again going to take his father’s wrath for me. “I’ll take Ollie back to her room.”

Killian held up his hand. “That’s okay. I can walk her.” He tore his eyes away from me and glanced at Luke. “Make sure everyone is in their rooms. Tell them to wait until I talk to them. They aren’t to talk to anyone else.”

I sensed Luke wanted nothing more than to pull me out of the room behind him, but he stopped himself. Aligning himself with me instead of his father would be the worst possible thing when so many lives hung in the balance. Whether we liked it or not, Killian Aultstriver presided as king of the ’swang hunters in Barrow, Alaska. Accidents happened, and I knew enough of Killian to know he would take the Killing Season’s dangerous nature and use it to his advantage.

Luke closed the door softly behind him. I waited to hear him walk away, and, after a long pause, he finally did. Only then did Killian turn to me and smile. “I guess I should thank you.”

Weariness made my bones ache. “What for?”

“For keeping Abigail safe. She’s delicate, you know,” Killian said as he watched me, gaze unwavering.

I fought the urge to punch him in the throat. “She’s stronger than you think.”

Killian shrugged, like his wife’s state didn’t bother him one way or the other. “The fact of the matter is that you were alone in the hallways around the time of the murder, and it hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice that you and Sin didn’t exactly get along very well.”

“I didn’t kill him,” I said. Killian possessed every reason to, since Sin had been sleeping with his wife on the side.

“An alibi would go a long way in helping your cause. Perhaps, a lover? Someone who could vouch for your whereabouts moments before you were wandering the halls?”

I gritted my teeth. “I needed a glass of water. Do you have an alibi, Killian? A lover? Were you with them the entire night?”

Killian stared at me for a hard moment, knowing I knew about Eve. His mocking humor vanished and a steely calm replaced it. In his eyes, I saw I danced a fine line with disaster. Dean may have sent me here, but Killian hated me. The professors at Fear University thought they had Killian in their pockets, but they were fools. This was a man who ruled his kingdom with an iron fist, who wouldn’t bow to anyone. He was a tyrant, and they were idiots for trusting him.

Right then, I understood what Luke had been trying to tell me. If Killian wanted me dead, no one could stop him. Not even Dean.

Without answering my questions, Killian turned to open the door for me. The hall stretched long and silent outside the bedroom, lights dim and shadows long. Stepping over the threshold, I quickly looked back in time to see him rake his eyes up from my ass.

“I hope you’re making good progress on finding our little snitch. Bad things happen to people who disappoint me.” He leaned forward, inches from my face, and whispered, “They tend to lose their heads.”

I sucked in a surprised breath. It sounded like Killian just confessed to killing Sin. But I had no way of knowing how long he and Eve had been together tonight until I talked to Eve. He might actually have an alibi, or, like me, he might not.

Before I answered, Killian added, “I’m watching you, Ollie. Very closely. And you have such a pretty head.”

At his words, I clenched my fists, feeling my red murder haze descending around me. Dean had made a mistake sending me here, but Killian’s biggest mistake was thinking he controlled me. I would tear these men apart and eat their hearts. They looked at me and saw a once-pretty girl with scars on her face and a newfound fear, but they didn’t know just how very much I enjoyed killing men.

Especially men like them.

I leaned in closer until only a breath separated our lips and whispered, “I hope you know I enjoy bashing in heads as much as you like cutting them off.”

I smiled.

Killian pulled away first, his face tense, and slipped by me. I stood my ground in the hall, my smile slowly fading, as he slipped into the darkness by the stairs.

E I G H T

Sunny

S
omeone slipped a note under Ollie’s bedroom door.

I knew because I sat huddled on Ollie’s bed, waiting for her to come back. When all hell had broken loose and hunters ran down the halls shouting for everyone to lock their doors because the ’swangs were inside, I’d promptly jumped out of bed and raced down the hall to Ollie’s room. I was smart enough to know when poop hit the fan, you ran to the deadliest girl’s room.

Ollie’s room was the safest place to be. Except she wasn’t here. But now a note was. And me. And possible ’swangs.

“Perausog. Perausog,” I murmured, repeating the word over and over. It comforted me in more than just its meaning. When I said it, I smelled Gran’s floral perfume, felt her hand rubbing soothing circles over my back. How she’d stayed late in my bedroom each night, telling me horrible tales of the aswang. No fairy tales for me. Just stories of people getting their faces eaten off.

I stood from the bed. Now I was really freaking out, and Ollie really, really needed to get back here. I didn’t want to wonder what she was doing out alone at this time of night. I hoped it had nothing to do with the fact Luke had been bitten, but I wasn’t stupid. I’d seen the way she looked at him, and him at her. They were hopeless.

My heart panged. Was Hatter okay? He and Luke hunted best when they were together. They stayed safe that way. I knew because I’d watched them together for months. Watching people was easy when everyone considered you invisible. Since my arrival at Fear University, I’d watched and prayed and said the words Gran had taught me to keep him safe. But with Luke hurt, I had no idea who was watching Hatter’s back right now.

Restless, I wandered over to the note and picked it up. It was in a thick envelope, its weight heavy in my hand. The expensive material glided smooth and creamy over my skin. I flipped the envelope over. Pressed into the middle of the flap was a glob of red wax with Fear University’s seal dried in the middle.

The door banged open.

I screamed, flinging the envelope at the intruder like it was a throwing knife and I was having another one of those daydreams where I saved the day during Fields instead of Ollie and Hatter had rushed into the cage and kissed me and told me everything was going to be okay and I was the bad-butt beautiful girl with wicked scars on her face that everyone noticed and everyone feared because if you even looked at her wrong she would probably peel your face off.

That was exactly how I threw the mothertrucking envelope.

Ollie glanced down as the envelope fluttered uselessly to the ground at her feet. She didn’t even act surprised to find me in her room. Bending to pick up the note, she asked, “What’s this?”

“I’m fine.” I pressed a hand to my thundering heart. “Just a little startled is all.”

When Ollie cocked a brow at me, I realize she’d asked about the letter and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, trying not to smile. “There weren’t any ’swangs inside. Oh, Sin was murdered. Head chopped clean off.”

I choked on my own spit. “Uh, what?” Of course, Ollie would just throw out murder like it wasn’t, well,
murder
.

“Yeah, I’m almost certain Killian killed him if Eve confirms he wasn’t with her the entire night. He probably opened the front doors too since it would take a high-ranking person at the base to override the locks on the doors so they could both be open at the same time. I can understand why he would kill Sin, but why open the doors? Why put everyone at risk?”

Ollie paced the length of the little room, but I had to sit down. Killian had killed Sin? We were living with a murderer? Didn’t anyone care? And why was Eve with Killian? I shuddered and looked up at Ollie. Technically, she was a murderer too, but the good kind. The kind who did it in self-defense even though she swore up and down it was cold-blooded. And maybe it was. But sometimes, some people deserved to die. I scratched my head, feeling an ache building at the base of my neck. If Mom was here, she and Gran would make me a cup of tea strong enough to knock any headache on its booty.

“Sunny?” I looked up. Ollie stood in front of me, waving a hand in front of my face.

“Yeah?”

“What is this?” She held up the envelope.

“Oh. Someone slid that under your door after the attack. Well, not an attack. The murder. Oh, Geez Louise. This is bad, huh?” A horrible, terrible, shiver-inducing thought came to me and I nearly started crying. “Did the murderer leave that for you?” I whispered.

“I was just with Killian minutes ago. He wouldn’t have had time.”

I swallowed. “Do you think he has an accomplice?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Ollie tore into the envelope. I watched as the creamy paper shredded beneath her ruthless hands. The blob of wax cracked and crumbled to the floor, which she kicked under her bed as she pulled out the note and unfolded it. Her eyes ran across the page in silence. The muscle in her jaw clenched tight, which only ever happened when she was really, really annoyed. With a sigh, Ollie handed the note over to me.