The Rogue Hunter (2 page)

Mortimer chuckled. "There's a lot more than you think beyond the headlights."

"Bears, raccoons, deer, and bunnies," Bricker said, obviously unimpressed.

Mortimer shook his head, but waited to negotiate a rather sharp curve in the road before saying, "We've probably passed a couple hundred cottages and houses since getting off the main highway. Believe me, hidden in the darkness are loads of people."

"Maybe," Bricker allowed with some disgruntlement. "But I guarantee you there won't be a single immortal among them."

"No?" Mortimer arched an eyebrow even as his lips twitched again.

"No," Bricker assured him. "No self-respecting immortal would stick himself out here. It's just not our scene."

"Right. So… What?" he asked dryly. "You're saying that all self-respecting immortals are presently hanging out on the other side of the globe where it's winter and the days are shorter?"

"No, of course not," Bricker growled with irritation. "But they aren't likely to be at a
cottage
. They'll be in cities like Toronto and Montreal where they have underground concourses and don't have to expose themselves to the sun to go places and do things."

Mortimer nodded, but didn't agree or disagree. The truth was, he knew a lot of their people would indeed be spending the summer in such places. While mortals enjoyed the underground cities in the winter because it allowed them to avoid the bitter cold outside, and some sought it out in the summer to avoid the harsh heat, immortals simply enjoyed the underground concourses during daylight in both summer and winter. It gave them a freedom they had never imagined they might enjoy before the advent of such things. They could walk around during daylight without worrying about the damage it was doing to them.

Mortimer peered at his partner, noting the dissatisfaction on his handsome, angular face and the frustrated way he ran one hand through his dark curls. Glancing back to the road ahead, he pointed out mildly, "The intelligence we have says that half a dozen mortals have been spotted with bite marks."

"I know, but it makes no sense that a vampire would hang out up here."

"And maybe that's why he or she is," Mortimer said. "After all, as you say, it's the last place anyone would expect to find an immortal… and because it
is
cottage country, it's full of mortals who come and go, concentrate on sun and fun, and don't bother neighboring cottagers."

Bricker looked startled at the suggestion. It obviously wasn't something he'd considered.

"You have to admit it's a pretty good place to hide out," Mortimer continued. "Almost every cottage we've passed is surrounded by trees, and the people up here feel safe so they won't be as aware or cautious… A rogue immortal would be a wolf among sheep."

"I suppose you're right," Bricker murmured, his expression thoughtful. "It's dark as death out here. He could creep up on people around a campfire, lure someone into the trees for a bite, and be gone without ever being seen."

Mortimer grunted in agreement, his attention on the small, green, numbered markers among the foliage on the side of the road. Each glowed brightly in the headlight's beam and each marked a driveway that disappeared into the trees, leading to cottages that they couldn't see from the road. Their cottage turned out to be the last one leading off the gravel road. Mortimer steered them down the dirt lane, wincing as they bumped over ruts and rocks. They traveled through trees for at least a full minute before the headlights flashed on a brown building ahead.

"Welcome to the boonies," Bricker said with a sneer. Holding on to the strap above the passenger door to steady himself during the bumpy ride, he added almost under his breath, "This
so
isn't my bag."

Mortimer smiled faintly and admitted, "It isn't really my bag either, but it's someone's or we wouldn't be up here."

"Right. Our rogue," Bricker muttered unhappily.

"And Decker," he pointed out. "It's his cottage we're using as a base while we're up here."

"Yeah, but he always was a strange bird," Bricker said. "Only he would enjoy living at the end of the world."

Mortimer smiled faintly at the insult to their comrade Decker Argeneau Pimms. As hunters for the Council, they often worked in concert with other teams, and more often than not, they seemed to be put together with Decker and his partner Anders. The four of them got along well and liked one another, but you wouldn't know that from the way they insulted one another.

"Well, I can't argue with Decker being strange," Mortimer said with amusement, and then pointed out, "But cottage country is apparently attractive to at least one other immortal too. It had to have been an immortal who spotted the bite marks and reported them to the Council."

That report was the reason they were here. Biting mortals was forbidden, and the Council had sent them up here to cottage country to look into it. They were to find the culprit and bring him—or her—back for the Council to deal with.

"Do we know who made the report?" Bricker asked curiously.

"I'm sure Lucian knows, but he didn't tell me who," Mortimer said, and then added, "I guess it really isn't important anyway."

"No," Bricker agreed, and then breathed, "Jesus," as Mortimer killed the car engine and the headlights blinked out at once, leaving them in a black and silent world.

The darkness was so absolute, Mortimer could almost believe they
had
reached the end of the earth and were now staring off into the emptiness of space. He didn't comment, however, but merely sat, waiting for his eyes to adjust. After a moment or so, the solid black around them gave way to differing shades of gray as well.

"Do you hear that?" Bricker asked in hushed tones.

"What?" Mortimer asked with a frown. He didn't hear anything.

"Nothing," Bricker said dryly. "Absolutely frigging nothing."

Releasing his breath on a soundless laugh, Mortimer grabbed his knapsack from the backseat, opened his door, and unfolded himself from the car. He then began to stretch and bend beside the vehicle to get his circulation going again. While they'd stopped several times along the way, this last bit of driving had been the longest, and he was stiff from the journey.

"Jesus."

The repeated exclamation, this time breathed with awe, made Mortimer glance sharply around to find Bricker standing in the frame of his open door, staring wide-eyed up at the sky. Eyebrows rising, Mortimer glanced up and found himself staring at a canopy of stars spread overhead like diamonds on a blue-black canvas. It wasn't a new sight to Mortimer. Before the world had become so crowded and electricity had been invented, every night had offered such a view. But of course Bricker wasn't old enough to recall that time, he realized, and glanced toward the awestruck man. "Nice, huh?"

"I've never seen so many stars in my life," Bricker murmured, eyes hungrily eating every inch of sky. "I didn't even realize there were this many."

Mortimer cast one more glance upward, but then started slowly forward across the uneven ground to the cottage. It was much larger than the tiny three-room building he'd expected. This was a proper house at the very least, and larger than even the average house. It was framed with dark wood, and most of the walls appeared to be made up of windows. The sight made Mortimer's eyebrows rise. It was the last thing he would have expected from the home of an immortal.

"Wait for me," Bricker hissed, hurrying after him as Mortimer started up the stairs that led onto the deck surrounding the second level of the house.

Mortimer slowed a bit but continued up and along the deck to the door of the cottage. There were no lights on and the building was obviously empty, but he still frowned when he found the door locked. Decker was supposed to be here. After a slight hesitation, Mortimer reached above the door frame and felt along the ledge until his fingers closed over a key.

Relaxing a little, he unlocked the door, and then stepped inside the stuffy interior. A quick feel along the wall was all that was needed to find the light switch, but when he flipped it, nothing happened.

"The breaker probably has to be turned on," Bricker said when Mortimer flipped it again to no avail. "I'll find it and get the lights going."

Mortimer merely nodded and moved farther into the cottage to make way for the other man to enter. He set his bag on the table and then turned back to see Bricker setting his own on the floor by the door. "I'll get the cooler while you see to that."

He heard Bricker grunt an acknowledgment as he stepped back out onto the deck. Mortimer paused on the top step when a burst of feminine laughter filled the air. He glanced across the surrounding darkness, not sure from which direction the sound had come. It had seemed quite close, but they were on the lake, and he knew sound carried on water.

After another moment, Mortimer descended the stairs, but rather than move toward the car, he went around to the lakeside instead. There was nothing to see. The lawn lay before him, running about fifty feet down to the shoreline and stretching out about twice that width before reaching the thick line of trees that bordered each side.

A good-sized boathouse sat at the water's edge, but the rest was open beach and left a lovely view of the calm surface of the small lake. The opposite shore was a strip of black bordering the lake itself, which was a lighter shade of dark, and the sight made him frown. There wasn't a light in evidence on the opposite shore, no sign at all of the occupants he knew must be there. Of course, it was after two a.m. and everyone was likely asleep. Still, had he not passed all those markers at the ends of driveways, he could almost believe he and Bricker were alone up here.

Another burst of sound, this time giggling, brought an end to that thought, and Mortimer jerked his head to the left, eyes narrowing as he peered through the trees. He made out the large dark shape of the neighboring cottage, an upside-down canoe, a dock with two boats moored to it, and two figures sitting side by side on the planks of the small dock. They were in a relaxed pose, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as they leaned back on their arms and stared up at the sky while chuckling over something.

Women, he realized, noting their very feminine shapes. One had shorter hair that barely reached her shoulders in a smooth bob. The other had longer hair, but had it scraped up into a ponytail at the back of her head.

The sound of a screen door clanging drew his gaze back to the neighboring cottage as a light beam came bobbing down its steps. A third woman, Mortimer realized, and his eyebrows rose slightly as he watched her stumble clumsily down the lawn, muttering to herself. It hadn't occurred to him that the two mortal women on the dock might be drunk, but this one definitely was, he thought dryly as she staggered sideways slightly and then fell. He wasn't the only one to notice, Mortimer realized, as both women on the dock turned and a flashlight beam shot from the hand of the one with the ponytail, bathing the fallen woman in light as she got to her feet.

"Sam? Are you all right?"

Caught in the beam as she was, Mortimer got a good look at the third woman. Her features suggested she was related to the other two, but she very definitely had a different body shape. While the other two were shapely and voluptuous, this one was tall, lean, and flat-chested. Her hair was as black as the night and fell in a straight curtain, framing a face filled by huge, dark eyes; a slightly crooked nose; and a large mouth that was presently twisted in an embarrassed grimace.

"Yes, yes," the woman named Sam answered on a laugh as she brushed at a large dark spot on her T-shirt. Not only had she stumbled over her own feet, she'd spilled her drink over herself.

Tsking with irritation, the woman turned back toward the
cottage
. "I'll be right back."

"Oh, don't bother changing, Sam," one of the women, the one with the bob, said. "There's no one here to impress."

"Yeah, but it's sticky, Alex," the woman named Sam complained.

"So. We have yet to take our first night swim. That will wash it away."

"True." A slow grin claimed Sam's lips, and she continued down toward the dock.

A low whistle drew Mortimer's attention to the side to see that Bricker had joined him and was ogling their neighbors with a wholly male appreciation.

"Maybe cottage country won't be so bad," Bricker whispered, and then tore his gaze away from the women to ask in hushed tones, "Sidetracked, were you?"

Mortimer shrugged. "I heard laughing and came to investigate."

The younger immortal nodded, his eyes shifting back to the women. "Yeah. Girls tend to do that a lot when they get together. At least my sisters do. They get together and laugh and giggle and…" He paused and peered back toward the next yard as another burst of laughter sounded from the women.

Mortimer followed his glance. Sam had reached the dock, her flashlight beam bobbing over the other two women as they got to their feet. Mortimer chuckled as it caught them rising with their backs to each other just as they bumped butts and nearly sent each other flying off the dock in opposite directions. A burst of laughter exploded from the women as they steadied themselves.

"And you say
I'm
clumsy?" Sam asked with dry amusement as she turned away, only to ruin the effect by nearly overbalancing and tipping off the dock herself, without bumping anything as an excuse for her own clumsiness.

Mortimer shook his head at their antics as another round of laughter erupted. The trio had obviously had quite a bit to drink. He'd barely had the thought when Sam said with disgust, "Dear God, anyone would think I was drunk, stumbling around like this."

"Not if they knew you and knew how clumsy you are," the one with the ponytail teased.

"Oh, who cares?" the one with the bob, whom Sam had called Alex, said. "We're on vacation. People can think what they want."

" Eww! Ew, ew, ew!"

The trio halted abruptly, and Sam swung the flashlight beam around toward the girl with the ponytail. "What is it, Jo?"

"I think I stepped on a baby frog," came the disgusted moan.