The Dark-Hunters (746 page)

It’d been centuries since he stood this close to his goal. So close, he feel the breath of it on his face.

But nothing was certain. Nothing should ever be taken for granted.

And never, ever underestimate Choo Co La Tah. Even though he and Snake outnumbered the old man, they still had the problem that while Coyote was the Guardian for the East, he’d only obtained it by trickery.

It wasn’t his right.

The legitimate Guardian still lived, even though it was as a Dark-Hunter and, so long as he did, there was always the possibility that he’d step forward to claim his station and kill Coyote where he stood.

I would gladly step down.
But the true Guardian had made it clear that he wouldn’t allow it. Not at the price Coyote demanded.

Snake looked up at the sky above them. “The cycle is drawing close.”

At last. He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to. They’d both been waiting for the Time Untime for far too long.

If the Butterfly and the Buffalo were to unite during the Time Untime, he and Snake would be destroyed. And all the Guardians replaced by those
they
chose.

But if he could stop it, he could rise on the eve of the Reset, and then he would have the power to select the new Guardians himself. With them under his control, they could unite their powers and return the world to their people. The Pale One would be defeated for once and for all.

The reign of the Coyote would be absolute. Uncontested.

Their enemies would be driven back into the sea.

And the elders and earth would weep for the wrong they had done to him. Blood would rain from the skies, and the Coyote would eat the sun and cover this earth with his vengeance.

He could already savor the taste. Soon this world would be his, and with his raised army, he would subjugate everyone.

The one thing he wanted most would then be his. No one would ever remove it again from his possession.

All he had to do was destroy one more Guardian.

So simple …

So damned hard.

But he wouldn’t fail this time. This time, he would succeed and the world of man would finally understand what true misery meant.

The Reign of Coyote was about to begin, and the world would never be the same.

CHAPTER 10

“You know, Jess. If something breaks in and eats me while you’re gone, you’re going to feel real bad about it. You’ve seen the movies. Read the books. You know it happens. Sidekick and girlfriend always get kidnapped, snuffed, or usually both by the bad guys after the good ones.”

Jess rubbed his brow, trying to soothe the migraine Andy was causing. Not that Dark-Hunters could get migraines, but the boy was definitely putting that theory to the test.

It was either that …

Or a tumor.

Can’t get those, either.

Then what was the painful throb that wouldn’t let up?

Oh yeah, it was Andy.

Jess sighed. “You’re right, pup. So I’ll be sending you over to the Ishtar for Sin to babysit until I get back. That’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

Now, that was a nice shade of indignation mottling the boy’s skin. Quite impressive, really. If he were a tea kettle, he’d be whistling like a train. “I can take care of myself.”

“Not what you just said.”

“That don’t mean—”

“Jess, we have a problem.”

He glanced past Andy’s shoulder to see Ren looking as flustered as the kid. Ren joined them in the kitchen.

A huge weight of dread fell right on top of Jess. “What’s wrong?”

“Abigail’s gone.”

That was something Jess didn’t want to hear. “Excuse me?”

Ren nodded. “I went to get her from downstairs, and there’s no trace of her. She must have snuck up and out while we were preparing. Damn you for a house this big. Really, folks? Was it necessary?”

Andy snorted. “You try finding a house to accommodate a dozen horses with a large basement in Vegas that’s not haunted, and that you can close on in two weeks and move in. I think I did pretty damn good.”

Ignoring Andy’s ornery outburst, Jess cursed. Both he and Ren were still plagued with their waned powers. And he could kick himself for not watching her closer. How could he have lulled his brain into forgetting she was a prisoner they intended to sacrifice?

Hell, he’d have run, too.

Andy arched a brow at them. “Why are you two freaking out, anyway? If she’s in one of your cars, which I’m sure she is, she’s LoJacked.”

Jess scowled. “Come again?”

“I LoJack your ass every minute of the night, cowboy. Just in case.” Andy went to the wall security monitor that tapped into all their camera feeds and pulled up the garage surveillance. Then he cursed even more foully than Jess had. “Forget yours, that bitch has taste. She’s in my Audi R8 Spyder.”

Jess growled at him. “Watch your mouth, pup. That’s a lady you’re talking about.”

He grumbled under his breath, questioning that category. “You wouldn’t feel that way if she’d run off on one of your stinking horses.”

Ren crossed his arms over his chest. “Is it LoJacked?”

“Of course,” Andy said indignantly. “That’s my baby. I even have a kill switch on her.”

“Then stop the engine.”

Andy appeared downright horrified by Ren’s suggestion. “Are you out of your mind? What if someone hits it for stalling? I had that thing on order for over a year. Custom hand-built. The epitome of German engineering. I even paid extra for the paint on her. Ain’t no way I’m going to chance someone denting my baby. Or, God forbid, totaling it.”

Jess rolled his eyes at the boy’s hissy fit. If he kept that up, he’d be putting Andy back in diapers.

He turned to Ren. “You take the air. I’ll get a bike.” Then he focused his attention on Andy again. “And you—”

Andy held his cell phone out to him. “Have an app. Track her down, get my car back, and beat the hell out of her.… In that precise order.”

Jess would laugh if the entire fate of the world didn’t hinge on his finding Abigail. Shaking his head, he went to the garage to get his red Hayabusa. It was the fastest thing he owned. Plus, it would synch to the tracker in Andy’s phone—had to love the Squires and their toys.

He grabbed a full face helmet off the rack, along with the keys, and was on it in record time. While the garage door opened, he synched the phone. As soon as it was complete, he peeled out, leaving the stench of smoke and rubber behind him. He ducked to miss the door that hadn’t gotten out of his way fast enough.

Opening the throttle, he shot through the gates that were also only partially parted and turned onto the street, heading south. The best part about the tracker was that it told him the speed the car was traveling. She didn’t appear to be going too fast—she probably thought she was home-free and didn’t want to attract the attention of any police. Smart on her part.

But it wouldn’t be enough to keep him from finding her.

*   *   *

Abigail regretted her choice of cars as she tried to navigate traffic. She’d thought the Audi, with its V10 engine, would be fast, but she couldn’t have been more wrong. People actually cut her off or boxed her in so that they could slow her down to take pictures of the car with their camera phones. Good grief. She’d never seen anything like it.

Really, people, it was a car with four tires like any other. She’d never understood how anyone could become so enthralled by a piece of metal transportation.

How did Sundown ever get anywhere with this much attention? It was so frustrating. She’d never been in a car before that affected traffic and drivers like this.

“I should have found something generic.” Unfortunately, her choices had been limited to a Ferrari, an old classic Ford pickup from the 1940s, a Gator, and this. The Audi was the only one that was street legal and wasn’t a stick shift—something she couldn’t drive.

The rest had been motorcycles, and since she’d never ridden one before, she didn’t think her escape attempt should serve as her first learning experience. With her luck, she’d have wrecked it in the driveway.

Her heart raced as she habitually checked her rearview mirror, expecting to see Sundown catching up to her any second.

Don’t discover I’m gone for a while. Please.

At least not until she had a chance to find out some truths. She wasn’t running from what she’d done. She just wanted to understand her memories.

Who was lying to her?

She hated to be so confused. All her life, she’d had one clear-cut goal.

Kill Jess Brady.

Now … her emotions and memories were tangled into a knot she wasn’t sure she could ever undo. If that wasn’t bad enough, there was a bitter hunger inside her for …

She didn’t know. The demon blood they’d mixed with hers was causing all kinds of problems. At times her senses would sharpen, then fall back to normal.

Beware the pathway that vengeance will take you down.
The voice in her head sounded a lot like Sundown’s.

His name had no more crossed her mind than something akin to lightning flashed behind her eyes. In that moment, she saw the past so clearly that it stole her breath.

It was Jess.

He kicked open the door to an old-fashioned room. The low, burning fire cast shadows across the cornflower blue scroll wallpaper that covered the walls. A man shot up from the old-fashioned sleigh bed with a gun in his hand. But as soon as he focused on Jess’s face, he hesitated.

“I killed you.”

Jess wore the mask of stone-cold killer. Fierce. Terrifying. Gut-wrenching. “Yeah, you did, Bart. And I told you, you son of a bitch, that I’d be back for you.” He spread his arms wide. “Here I am.”

Bart came to his senses and unloaded all six of his bullets straight into Jess’s body. The rounds left small puffs of smoke as they embedded in his chest without hurting him. He didn’t even bleed that much.

Even with the chamber emptied, Bart continued to uselessly pull the trigger.

Jess laughed evilly as he stalked across the room to jerk the gun out of Bart’s grasp with one hand. With his other, he grabbed him by the throat and held on so tight that Bart’s eyes bulged while he knelt on the bed. Jess pulled him closer so that he could growl into his reddened face. “It was bad enough you killed me. I might have spared you for that. But you had no right to rape Matilda and kill her father in front of her, you worthless bastard. It’s what you’ve done to her that will cost you your life. She was the only decent thing I’ve ever known. Damn you to hell for hurting her. You had
no
reason for it.”

He waited until Bart was almost dead before he released him and slung him to the ground. Bart lay on the floor, wheezing, while Jess went to the wooden washing stand in the corner and pulled the ceramic pitcher up and emptied it over Bart’s head.

Now completely drenched, Bart sputtered and coughed.

Jess kicked him onto his back and planted his booted foot on his chest. He slammed the pitcher down on the floor, shattering it near Bart’s face. Bart jerked, closing his eyes as shards rained down on him. Some of them even caught in his tousled hair.

“You didn’t think I was going to kill you that easily, did you?” Jess taunted. “For what you did to her, you are going to suffer every second between now and dawn. I’m going to give you pain the likes of which my mama’s people were famed for. And when I finally end your life, you will thank me for it.”

“Go to hell!”

Jess scoffed. “You already sent me there. It’s your turn now. Give the devil my regards.”

Abigail jerked out of the memory as the sound of a horn blared. Blinking, she realized she was about to plow into an oncoming truck. She jerked the wheel and headed back into her lane.

Her breathing ragged, she rubbed at her forehead. Why was she seeing Jess’s memories? And she knew that was what they were. It was too vivid to be something she created. She could still smell the fire and the stench of Bart’s breath mixed with his sweat.

Jess had sold his soul not to avenge himself. He’d done it for Matilda.

Her gaze clouded as she saw another image. This one was a few years later. It was just after midnight, and Jess stood inside what appeared to be a lawyer’s office. A man with a handlebar mustache and parted black hair sat behind a huge mahogany desk. He wore a dark gray suit over a bright burgundy brocade vest. Over his head was a large clock that ticked so loudly, it hurt Jess’s hearing.

“I’m breaking all kinds of rules here,” the man said as he passed a piece of paper across the clean desk to Jess. “But I did what you asked.”

“She’s happy?”

The lawyer nodded. “I transferred another half million into her account so that she could buy that house and land she wanted. She now has enough to do anything she wants for the rest of her life.”

A tic worked in Jess’s handsome jaw. “It’s not enough. Keep adding to it every year like I said originally. I don’t ever want her to have anything to worry about other than what dress looks best on her.”

He inclined his head to the paper Jess held. “That’s an extra photograph I talked the photographer into making of her. Thought you’d like it.”

There was no missing the love in his eyes, even though he kept his features completely stoic. “Does she need anything else?”

“No. She’s married to a good man who owns the local mercantile.”

Jess frowned as if the lawyer had said something wrong. “But?”

“I didn’t say there was a but.”

“She sits at her window at night and cries.” Jess’s tone was hollow.

“How did you—?”

“I can read your mind.” Jess swallowed hard. “Thank you, Mr. Foster. I appreciate everything you’ve done.” He went to the door and put his hat on his head before he left.

Outside, he tucked the photo into his jacket, and it was only then that she saw the moisture in his eyes.

He quickly blinked it away, then headed for his horse.

Abigail ached as she felt his pain like it was a part of her. He really had loved his Matilda.

“Stop it!” she snapped at herself. This was ridiculous. She didn’t want to see Jess. Not now. She had more important things to do.