R E C K L E S S . . .
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
I turned around just in time to see Hunter saunter towards us, parting the branches in front of him to step out onto the path. He must’ve followed Blake and I down the path and backed into the undergrowth when we’d stopped, hoping to take us by surprise – doubtless to say it had worked.
He smiled at me, raising his eyebrows. There were leaves and twigs stuck to his dark, dishevelled hair and hanging off his clothes.
“Why are you here?” Blake asked Hunter, tensing. He knew perfectly well that Hunter had heard every word that we’d said about him and was all too ready to defend himself. “Did Mort send you?”
Hunter saw where I was looking and glanced down, grinning. He brushed the debris away from his clothes and from his hair. “Better?”
“I don’t care what you look like,” I told him, shrugging.
“Oh, that’s right. You only admire my nerve.”
I blushed. I prayed that it didn’t show too obviously on my cheeks. “Well you did give me those lessons,” I said defensively.
“Don’t act like it’s a bad thing. It’s nice to know that you like some part of me. Though I’m sure that you’d like other parts of me if you tried…” he said teasingly.
I laughed. “Nice try, but I don’t think I’ll be trying them any time soon.”
“You sure?”
“Quite sure.”
Blake seemed to have frozen in the middle of the conversation, looking between us with what I could only define as confusion in his eyes. “Hunter, please focus. Why did you come here?”
Hunter rolled his eyes, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “Mort’s just found out where Chris is heading,” he said finally. “We’re leaving on the next plane there… which is in about two hours so we’re going to have to get going pretty soon.”
“Where’s he going?” I asked before Blake could say a word.
“New York,” Hunter replied. “There’s a massive vampire population there – you know, since it’s the city that never sleeps and whatever. We think that his maker’s staying there as well.”
“His maker?”
“All vampires have a maker, Anne,” Blake said patiently.
“You didn’t expect Chris to have appeared out of nowhere, did you?” Hunter added, raising an eyebrow.
I looked away from them both, staring off into the trees. “I just can’t imagine Chris being under anyone’s power.”
“He’s what, one hundred and twelve, one hundred and thirteen, years old? That’s pretty damn young for your average vampire,” Hunter filled me in. “Chris is unusually powerful for one of his age. He’s as bad as some of the vampires that I’ve met who’ve been at least five hundred years old.”
“What’s his maker called?”
“Edric Hardy. He’s a Viking,” Hunter said glibly. It was insane how different the world of the vampire hunters was from mine. Hunter could say this sort of thing without batting an eyelid, whereas the information that there was a real, walking Viking living in New York right now made my jaw drop.
“He’s a Viking? Seriously?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Hardy’s made fifty or so vampires – each one more arrogant and deadly than the next. He’s got lax with his choices, ended up making vampires out of people like Chris. It’ll be a good day for everyone when someone drives a stake through him.”
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Reckless
VampireSome things are just unintended... like bumping into a conceited vampire at a party, hating his guts then - against all your better judgement and frequent protests - inexplicably making him believe that you've fallen in love with him. Then before yo...
