The Vampire Hunter

Turning the corner toward her house, she passed by the narrow alley that was heaped with the neighbor’s discarded, bent-iron bed frame. Kicking the fallen leaves, she delighted in the schushing chorus that responded.

Grunts echoed from down the cobbled alleyway, and she paused, stepping back beside a shed wall so as not to be seen as she peeked around the corner of the building.

About fifty yards away, three men and one woman stood over a fallen man. In seconds the man who had been prone leaped to his feet and swiped a threatening weapon toward his attackers. With each movement, the tails of his long, black leather coat dusted the air like bat wings.

Clinging to the rough brick, Zoë recognized one of the attackers. The vampiress with the bright pink hair—the very vampire she had hoped to never meet in a dark alley. She stood flanked by two others to her right and one to her left.

The other man, the object of the vampires’ scorn, was human. She recognized him, as well.

“Kaz,” she whispered, then checked herself to be sure she’d not spoken too loudly.

Why was he standing up to four vampires? And doing an excellent job of it, since he wasn’t bleeding or dead.

Yet.

Did the man pick a fight wherever he went? He’d easily taken down four men the previous night. But tonight’s opponents were vampires. They had double, or even triple the strength of the strongest human man, not to mention a supernatural agility and speed.

The vampiress chuckled and checked Kaz with an expert kick, which landed her high-heeled boot aside his jaw. Her henchmen followed closely with more brutal punishment. None went at Kaz alone; they attacked en masse. One wrenched Kaz’s arm around behind his back, which caused Kaz to cry out in pain.

Kaz fell to his knees. The guy was outnumbered.

“I just want to talk,” he managed, then spat blood to the side. “We don’t need to do this. I made no move to harm you or your buddies.”

Narrowing her gaze, Zoë saw that the weapon he held in his free hand was a stake. The very stake she’d stolen from him? How many people carried stakes on them unless they expected to get into a tussle with a vampire?

Why hadn’t she considered the possibility he was a hunter last night?

You were too googly-eyed at the time, remember?

Right. Rushing head-on into happily ever after and kicking her glass slippers aside with abandon.

A kick to Kaz’s back flattened him. His head was crunched under one of the vampiress’s boot heels, and blood sputtered from his mouth.

Zoë cringed. The urge to rush for him, to help him in some way, had her teetering on the balls of her feet—but she wasn’t stupid. If Kaz couldn’t stand against the vampires, what could one feeble witch do but make it ten times worse?

From where she stood, she could fling some magic at them, but again, that would draw unnecessary attention to her. And she couldn’t feel the magic that normally hummed at the tips of her fingers because right now she was anxious. She could never access her magic unless she was calm.

“Don’t kill him,” she muttered as the female bent and wrenched up Kaz’s head by a hank of his hair.

Fangs exposed, the vampiress lunged for Kaz’s neck, yet the tips of those fangs did not prick skin. Releasing Kaz as if electrocuted, the vampiress jumped back, cursed and smacked a fist into her palm as she again swore aggressively.

Spitting on the fallen man, whose eyelids fluttered, the vampiress hissed something Zoë could not hear. Then she marched off, her henchmen in tow.

They didn’t intend to kill him? Rarely did a vampire let a human go free without, at least, a bite. And all encounters were usually removed from the human’s mind with persuasion, a means to enthrall the memory from their minds. It hadn’t appeared as if any of the vampires had taken the time to enthrall Kaz.

Zoë waited until the vampires were out of sight, then dashed down the alley and squatted beside the fallen man. He bled from his mouth, ear and his split knuckles. Apparently, he’d gotten in a few good punches.

The stake he’d wielded lay beside his head. Acting on some sort of emergency autopilot, she shoved the stake inside his inner coat pocket, then lifted him by the shoulders. Her heel slipped on the leaf-strewn cobbles as her struggles nearly toppled her. He was heavy, and he wasn’t helping her much because he was bleary. Zoë noticed his coat collar was edged with blades. She hadn’t noticed them the other night. Strange fashion statement. She had to be careful not to get cut.

“You need to get out of here before they come back. I don’t know why she didn’t bite you. You’re one lucky guy. Come on. I’m going to help you to stand, but you’re a big guy. You gotta do some work, too. Kaz?”

With a mumbling grunt, he struggled to his feet as if drunk. She suspected that the bruise on his temple had him dancing in and out of consciousness. But he managed to hook an arm over her shoulder and stumbled along beside her. She had to abandon the grocery bag. With luck, she could run back to get it before someone nabbed it or a rat found the booty.

Zoë led him toward her home, maneuvered him through the door and deposited him on the couch in the living room. It took some delicate finessing to get the coat off his shoulders without cutting herself. His black T-shirt had torn to reveal a monstrous bruise below his ribs and along the side of his torso. A kidney shot. That one must have hurt like a mother.

“You’re going to need a magical touch,” she said. “Fortunate for you, I can help you with that.”

She stood over him, spread her feet and smacked her palms together. Rubbing them slowly to heat her palms, she recited a healing spell, closing her eyes and focusing on the resonation of her voice as it touched the air. The healing she performed went beyond herbs and potions that most Light witches used. Her father had taught her this magic, and she used it in all aspects of her magical needs.

Words fading, but sound rising, she hummed deep in her throat, centering the vibrations in her chest as she laid her hands over Kaz’s body.

At what she knew was an electrifying touch, Kaz’s chest pulsed upward and his arms flailed. Alert, he moaned, looked down over what she was doing, then, still discombobulated, settled back into the couch. Zoë spread her palms over his chest and shoulders and down his arms and hands, humming constantly to maintain the magic’s resonance. At his ribs, she concentrated the healing vibrations.

Sensing the shock of her magic as it permeated his skin, the man groaned again.

The healing had been laid upon flesh and bone. Now, to make it permeate. Rubbing her palms together again, she summoned a soothing numbness spell to tender his pains. Blowing the visible white mist toward his wounds, she noted that he blinked and opened his eyes.

The man saw the magic, and muttered, “Y-you’re a witch?”

“Yes.”

“Witches creep me out.” And he passed out.

“Is that so?” Zoë righted, hands on her hips. “Well, this creepy witch just reduced your healing time from a week to less than half a day. Ungrateful bit of...”

She sighed. It was bad karma to be angry with someone who hadn’t asked for it. He probably wasn’t aware of what he had said. Pain often blurred rationality. She was thankful he was here, and not in the alley bleeding out, an open buffet for another vampire to come and snack on him.

But now a new problem had arisen. She may very possibly be harboring a hunter in her home. And for a witch who was friends with vampires, that was not a good thing.

Chapter 4

Kaz came to with a snort. Blinking his eyes, he squinted. Hmm, the ceiling was too high. The cloying scent of oranges and cinnamon concerned him, as well. His apartment usually smelled like the fake pine stuff the cleaning lady used during her monthly visits. And the couch he laid on felt hard and militant, not soft and lumpy like his.

Where was he?

He sat up abruptly, slapping a palm to his side where an ache pulled at his muscles and prodded his ribs. Curiously, that didn’t hurt as much as he expected it should.

His shirt was off, and he poked at his side. One of the vamps had shanked him in the ribs with a steel-toed boot. The blow had battered his kidney, dizzied his senses and taken the fight from him. Yet why was he not doubled with pain right now?

Rarely was he bested by his opponents. Four vampires? No problem. And he’d thought he’d had an advantage over Switch, finding her as the sun was setting and catching her not at full strength. Not true at all. She hadn’t been weak or seemingly fearful of the sun. And she’d had her henchmen, who hadn’t fought fairly, going at him all at once.

Stroking his fingertips along his neck, he searched for the inevitable wound, but his skin was smooth, save for the two-day stubble that reminded him he needed to shave. No bites? He’d almost forgotten. He wore a ward against vampires behind his ear. Whew.

Suddenly, Kaz’s vision landed on something soft and blue. Ruffles. The blue fabric danced around the hem of a black, pleated, wool skirt that stopped just above a pair of shapely knees. And higher, the narrow waist of that same black wool led up to a tiny blue bow centered between breasts that rose in soft mounds from the low neckline.

Mmm, now that looked like something that would eradicate the pain, if only he could touch...

Zoë’s hair swished to one side as she tilted her head and flashed him a bright smile. “Rise and shine, Kaz. I have breakfast.”

Breakfast? He had just been fighting.... But the room was light. Had he slept here on Zoë’s couch all night?

“Chia pudding and blueberries.”

She placed a bright yellow pottery bowl in one of his hands and held out a spoon, which he took without averting his eyes from her too sunny smile. Plucking out a blueberry from the bowl, she held it to his lips and, still trapped in a worshipful daze, Kaz opened his mouth to accept the offering.

Sweetness gushed across his tongue, even as he puzzled over the situation. As well, sweetness stood over him like some kind of Nightingale nurse rocking the schoolgirl look. What a sight to wake to. Unexpected, but he’d take it over what might have happened had he been left to lie in the alley all night.

Had he walked here on his own? He couldn’t recall much after taking the kidney punch. Had there been white smoke and chanting involved?

“They’re fresh.” She tapped the bowl. “I picked them this morning.”

Zoë sat on the coffee table before the couch. Her eyes were brighter than the sky after a summer rain, and her pink smile looked almost sneaky. Or was she sizing him up, trying to figure what next she’d steal from him?

He wondered where his stake was, and if he should search her. Not a bad idea, running his hands over those soft swells, emphasized by that tiny blue ribbon. Her breasts looked so full and firm. Maybe if he sort of fell forward and collapsed against her and nuzzled his face against them...

Whew! Kaz shook his head. Apparently, he still didn’t have his wits about him.

His fingers conformed about the warm bowl but he had no appetite for food, only a strange spinning at the fore of his brain, and a growing curiosity. “How did I get here?”

“You don’t remember?” He liked the husky edge to her voice. Bedroom sexy, but smart at the same time. “You’ve slept all night. I watched the vampires attack you in the alley. Since my place was close, I helped you walk here. How’s your side?”

She’d witnessed him take that hellacious beating? Way to go, hunter. Good thing he hadn’t had the opportunity to stake any of them. He was slacking. And why was that?

Because a sexy mouth and a pair of enticing breasts kept luring him back to this woman who felt right. And what was wrong with that?

He eased a couple fingers along his torso. “Doesn’t hurt as much as I think it should. I took a punishing shot to the kidney. Normally, I could have held my own against four miserable—er...”

“Vampires?” she offered sweetly. “I’m sure you could have,” she said with a bit too much forced reassurance.

“Vampires? Come on. You’ve been watching too much TV.”

“You don’t have to put on an act for me, Kaz. I could plainly see they were vampires. The pink-haired one tried to bite you, but she stopped before sinking in her fangs. Weird. Most vamps would never pass up a free meal like they did you.”

Kaz’s jaw dropped open. Bloody hell, the woman knew too much. And he was damned if he didn’t wish for some kind of persuasion like the vampires used so he could take that memory from her mind.

“You can sit up with little pain because of the magic,” Zoë said. “It’s a healing spell. Speeds up the healing process remarkably. Another two or three hours and you should be good as new.”

Magic? Kaz now remembered bits and pieces of last night. Something about her chanting a spell as he’d groaned deliriously. Her hands had moved over his skin as if they were heated instruments designed to soothe and suck out the pain. He’d seen a white mist float before him, and had known it was magic, had just known.

“You’re a witch.”

“Aren’t you perceptive.”

Her snark didn’t rile him. He could deal with anything a female put to him. Except, apparently, three surprise henchmen. Damn, he should have had those vamps last night. But he hadn’t wanted to use the stake when his only intention had been to talk and get information. That decision may have proven a mistake.

Another blueberry plucked from the bowl was placed at his mouth, and Kaz dutifully ate the juicy offering.

“And you are some kind of vampire hunter, yes?” Zoë blinked sweetly, awaiting his answer with wondering blue eyes.

He hadn’t wanted to reveal himself like this. A knight was more discreet. But she couldn’t have pinned him as a knight from the Order of the Stake, so that important detail was still a secret.

“Something like that,” Kaz replied.

He glanced to the table. Beside Zoë’s thigh lay his leather coat, folded in half, and on top of that lay the titanium stake. Enough damning evidence right there. But she’d already held the stake in hand and she hadn’t seemed to figure him out then.

“What’s that?” She nodded toward his shoulder.

Kaz slapped a hand over the brand he’d received upon taking vows with the Order. “Just a teenage thing. You know, crazy dare. Something like that.”

“Uh-huh,” she uttered, tons of disbelief dripping from the nonwords.

“You know too much,” he said.

“I know as much as any other paranormal breed should know about the world and all its wonders.”

Kaz sighed and shook his head. She was a freaking witch. That put a new spin on the situation.

“You didn’t kill the vampires. Interesting,” she noted.

Kaz licked his lips. Her lips were the color of raspberries. Kissable, despite the fact she was a witch.

“From where I was standing, it appeared as if you didn’t even try to stake your opponents. You were defending yourself, yet were unwilling to make a kill.”

“There was no need to slay them. I only take out those who harm humans. And I only wanted to talk. Unfortunately, vamps don’t like talking to hunters. So you’re a witch?”

She placed a hand over his, which still clutched the spoon, on his thigh. “We’re talking about you now, Kaz. We’ll get to me later.”

Something about her touch baffled him. And then it did not. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been touched with such kindness. And that scared the hell out of him.

“So,” she said, “what did you want to talk to the vampires about?”

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Secret hunter stuff?” She winked and those long, dark lashes devastated his need to remain unaffected by her sensual allure. And that annoyed him. Because she was forcing business to merge with pleasure and he didn’t like to do that. It never ended well.

“I’ll give you that,” she said. “I suppose hunters have to be all secretive to get the job done. Like Batman.”

Batman? “I don’t have a cape.”

“Too bad. I bet you could work the cowl-and-cape look with that handsome square jaw. The stubble is sexy, you know.”

A flutter of those lashes and he wanted to grab the woman and kiss her soundly. Wrap her in his arms and crush her body against his. And taste her, lick her everywhere, until he memorized her flavor.

“So I creep you out, eh?” she asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

Zoë took the spoon from him, dipped it in the weird gray pudding stuff, and lifted it to his mouth. Kaz absently opened his mouth and let her feed him. A blueberry burst on his tongue.

“Last night when I was invoking the healing spell you said witches creep you out.” She spooned him another bite. “And I assume, since I am a witch, that included me.”

“No, you could never— I didn’t mean—” He pushed away another spoonful. Stuff was...weird. And he was sitting here, being fed by a witch. “Well, hell. You’re all kinds of surprises this morning, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t going to get into this argument with her. Witches were not his favorite creatures. Something about them did creep him out, but what was it? He couldn’t recall the exact reason for his heebie-jeebies.

Kaz grabbed the spoon from Zoë, dropped it in the bowl and shoved it toward her.

“You need to eat. Build up your strength.”

“I need to leave.”

“Not for another few hours. I want to keep you here until I know the spell has worked.”

“I’m fine.” He pushed up and swung his legs over the side of the couch. His brain wobbled inside his skull, and briefly, he saw two witches sitting before him. “Why do I feel so woozy?”

“The spell is rushing through your system, doing its thing. It’ll require all bits and pieces of you to work cohesively to heal the damaged parts. So you won’t feel right until it’s completed. Lie back.” She shoved the bowl into his hands. “And finish your pudding.”

She stood. Kaz’s eyes veered directly to those blue ruffles above her knees. A dash of his tongue—right there—would taste the curve behind her knee, and he knew the flavor would satisfy him like no bowl of goopy gray stuff ever could.

“When you feel less dizzy, I’ve set out some towels in the bathroom. I’m washing your shirt right now. It was spattered with blood—probably your own. I could clean your pants...?”

“They’re fine,” he said quickly of his leather pants.

“You sure? I won’t look.”

The situation was getting intimate. Fast. And what was wrong with that?

You don’t do the intimate with someone you hardly know. You screw them and leave. You know this woman. It’s too late for a quickie, never see you again, sweetie.

She’d already nestled her ribbons and raspberry lips into a place in his brain. Good luck getting her out, buddy.

She turned and strode out of the living room.

“You don’t creep me out, Zoë.” He whispered the words as his brain fogged and his heavy eyelids fell shut. His grip softened about the pottery bowl.

“Pretty...” was the last word he could manage before surrendering to his body’s need to shut down while the spell worked to heal his wounds.

* * *

Zoë smiled to herself as she moved the clothes from the washer into the dryer. Pretty, eh? The man hadn’t been all there in the head when he’d muttered that. As he hadn’t been in full grasp of his senses when he’d muttered about creepy witches.

She hoped.

The blood had come out of his black shirt thanks to her homemade herbal detergent with an extra touch of earth magic. She tossed it into the dryer and sprinkled in some cloves to imbue a pleasing scent into the fabric, though she was a little sad she’d washed away the leather-and-licorice scent from his shirt. It still lingered on his skin, though. Goddess, but the man smelled like a treat.

But she had much better things to do than household chores and tending the sick, no matter how delicious the patient smelled. A whole lot of faery ichor needed processing and her time was valuable. But she couldn’t work while the hunter was in her house because that might tempt him to climb the stairs to see what she was doing. Her work wasn’t a secret. She just liked to keep her spell room sacred and never allowed others inside.

“Protect the magic,” she muttered. “Always and ever.”

Her parents had taught her that. One slip on her father’s part had branded him warlock. It was a hard life to live in the shadows with few friends, but there were days Zoë suspected her father preferred such a life. He’d always been quiet, almost to the point of reclusive.

As she wandered into the kitchen, curiosity over Kaz’s encounter with the vampires last night crept up on her. If he’d no intention of killing them, and had only wanted to talk with them, she wanted to know why. Because the pink-haired vampiress was involved in her life in an important way.

Had Kaz’s curiosity anything to do with something “Pink” had done?

“Couldn’t be related to me,” she muttered, while setting the breakfast dishes in the sink. “I hope not.” She and Pink had no relationship whatsoever; only business connected them. “I’m doing nothing wrong,” she said with a lift of her chin. “And hunters don’t involve themselves in the kind of stuff I’m working on, anyway. Do they?”

There would be no need to. Why, the hunter should appreciate her efforts.

She heard the shower running. The image of Kaz in the buff popped into her thoughts. Now, that would be a beautiful sight to take in. The way his eyes had danced up her legs and to her breasts after he’d first woken had made her feel as if he were drawing his fingers along her skin. Slowly, lingering, feeling out the curves on her body. And she’d felt every long gaze seep through her pores.

She smiled at the delicious notion that he had been assessing her charms. In that moment of assessment, she had wanted to kiss him, but he’d been out of sorts. Probably she misunderstood his interest in her as woozy discombobulation produced by the spell surging through his system.

She was rushing toward happily ever after and wasn’t even sure the man was on the same page. Well, of course he wasn’t. They’d only just met. But his kisses had definitely turned a few of her pages.

She placed the clean plates on the drying rack. She couldn’t condone anyone causing harm to another living being. Not unless it was justified. If a vampire had harmed a human, or even killed them, then yes, she had no problem with a hunter ending their life. But not if the vamp was merely drinking from humans to survive—as they must do, for cold blood from blood bags did not sustain life. If they did only that, never taking too much, and leaving the victim enthralled in a sensual swoon, then hell no, she would never stand for a hunter thinking he had the right to end that vampire’s life.

Kaz was not the sort to irrationally take another’s life. She sensed that. He wore honor like a flag, though he didn’t wave it blatantly about as if he needed the accolades for his bravery. He’d only wanted to talk to the vampires last night. And she had plainly seen he had done his best not to harm them. To his detriment.

“I feel one hundred percent better.”

Kaz strolled into the kitchen, dark leather pants low on his hips and droplets of water still glistening on his broad, wide shoulders. His short, wet hair was tousled this way and that, and where there had been bruises last night on his chest, ribs, jaw and temple, now there were none, save the fading mark over his kidney.

She studied the raised scar on his shoulder. It looked like a brand, some sort of symbol. Where had she seen it before? Recently. He’d gotten it when he was a teenager? The things kids did when they were drunk.

“How does your side feel?” she asked. “That was an awful injury.”

“It’s still tender, but I’m good to go. You have my shirt?”

“Another half an hour for the dryer cycle to finish. Let’s sit.” She strolled into the living room and sat, patting the couch beside her. “If it’s still tender, I want you to relax until my magic has completed its work.”