Runner Page 8

  An older buck is slowly grazing his way along with the herd, but positioned a little to the outside in a guard position. I shouldn’t take on such a mature and experienced animal for my first encounter with a new species, but he is too tempting.

  Shifting to come in directly at his shoulder, I wait until he is nearly even with me. Inch by inch I creep out from behind the bush so that it doesn’t obstruct my launch.

  I spring, and landing about thirty feet out, spring again. I hit the ground a few feet from him and he’s already starting to spin away as I ram into him, just behind the shoulder. He staggers and goes down, and I grab his horns and try to twist his head. But his horns are shorter than a deer’s antlers and I don’t have much leverage. His neck is much shorter and stiffer, too, and suddenly I’m hanging on, my body flying, as he lunges to his feet and begins to buck and plunge.

  He then stops, twists and tries to skewer me, and as my feet plant back on the ground I yank sideways on his horns and he goes down again, taking me with him. I scramble on top of him, bending his head as far back as it’ll go. He kicks and struggles, trying to get up. I pin his head with my body, and reaching down with one hand to open his throat, I feel a stabbing pain pierce my belly.

  But it’s too late for him, and as the red river from his jugular begins to flow, I bury my teeth in the wound and begin to gulp in the lifeblood as it pumps out.

  The hot sagey taste is wildly exotic compared to deer and elk, and I gladly succumb to the power the blood has over me. It traces its way through my system and into my veins, and a sense of relief washes through me, leaving me re-energized.

  I continue to drink, but before the lethargy begins signaling that I’ve had my fill, there is no more. The beast growls in frustration and hunger still burns in my gut.

  But that’s not the only thing burning. I slowly regain my feet and lift up my shirt.

  Damn. About halfway between my belly button and my side is a long, ragged wound weeping blood. It looks deep and is beginning to really hurt.

  Looking at his horns, I can see from the blood on one that it was a front prong that got me. It’s three or four inches long—enough to cause some real damage.

  I’m going to need more blood for healing, lots more, and I’m not in the best shape to get it.

  As the pain in my belly starts to increase, so does the hunger, and I am instantly transported back to my fight with the bear, and the twin agonies that had me near the point of death.

  But there is no Nicolas to rescue me this time, and no human blood that I am willing to take to speed the healing.

  And I can’t hole up here in the wilderness to heal. I have to pick Sandy up from the hospital tomorrow.

  That’s going to be interesting. Going into a building full of humans and blood while I’m fighting the healing hunger. I don’t think that’s going to work.

  Shit.

  I start walking in the direction of the car and the nearby woods. I need to find something a little easier to kill. A lot of something easier.

  My gut burns with the dual fires of pain and hunger, and the flames are beginning to lick up into my veins. I lift up my shirt and look again at the wound. It’s no longer seeping, so apparently the buck’s blood was enough to begin the healing process. I think about Sandy and wonder how much I’m bleeding internally. Nicolas had told me after the bear attack that our injuries heal on the outside first to prevent further blood loss and, more importantly, restore our ability to fight.

  The pain surges and I tense in preparation for the flare of hunger that always follows. And it does. I grit my teeth and wait for both to ease.

  Clamping my arms around my middle, I struggle up the hill as wave after wave of pain and hunger burn through me. It’s nothing like the injuries from the bear, but it still hurts like hell.

  Finally I reach the car and decide to drive farther up the mountain to an area I hunted the first night. There were plenty of deer up there, and I might luck out and find a small buck. Or even a doe, as much as I object to killing females. But I don’t need any more injuries right now. What I need is blood, lots of blood, and I will take anything I come across.

  Hopefully it won’t be something on two legs.

  SATURDAY

  CHAPTER 12

  I crack open my eyes and peer at the sun that is blazing through the branches. The one beneath me is hard, rough, and bumpy. Groaning, I now remember why I don’t like to sleep in trees. To use an expression of Sandy’s, this sucks.

  Sitting up, I clench my jaw against the inevitable pain and hunger that movement always generates when I’m injured. But it’s not too bad right now.

  It shouldn’t be, as I took both a doe and a half-grown buck last night. In fact, it was stumbling across the buck’s trail that kept me from reaching the car in time to return to the hotel before sunrise.

  I raise my shirt and look at the healing wound. The outside has closed up and is a fiery welt a little over two inches long and forked in the shape of a tree branch. Or an antelope horn. Weird.

  The strange crawling sensation deep in my belly where the flesh is slowly knitting together reminds me of what it feels like to hold fishing worms as they wiggle and squirm.

  Ugh.

  But it’s interesting that I seem to be healing fairly quickly. It supports the theory I had when I was recovering from the bear injuries. Because I was accustomed to a diet of deer and elk, their blood would have been far more healing for me than the horse blood Nicolas gave me.

  As for the human blood? There’s no denying how fast my healing accelerated when he gave me that, something I sincerely wish he’d never done.

  It would probably heal me just as fast now, but that’s not an option. Not now. Not ever.

  I climb down out of the tree, being careful not to jar the knitting flesh inside. Again the pain flares, but it’s muted and bearable. The fiery hunger, however, is another matter. And it will continue to be a problem as long as I am healing, even after the pain is gone.

  Squinting up at the sun, I’m guessing it’s about noon. Roughly six hours since my last kill, as though I needed the sun to tell me that. The flames beginning to race up my veins are plenty of proof that I need to feed again, and soon.

  Sandy. I shake my head as I think about Sandy waiting impatiently for me to pick her up from the hospital.

  My options are limited.

  I could pick her up now, drop her off at the hotel, and come back. It would be close to two hours before I could be back out here, and I have no idea how long it will take me to locate suitable game, which is likely all bedded down for the day.

  Three hours from now I could be curled up in a ball of agony, burning from the inside out as my healing cells scream for more blood. Not good.

  I don’t have any choice. I need to hunt and I can’t delay much longer.

  But the least I can do is drive partway back into town and call to let her know that I haven’t forgotten. That might take an hour, maybe a little less.

  I think I can handle that. I hope.

  Hiking back to the car, I mull over how to care for her and get her situated while dealing with my own problem.

  A wave of mild pain passes through my belly, and the hunger answers with a roar, sending tendrils of fire throughout my system.

  Gritting my teeth, I hunch over and hug myself and wait for it to subside.

  Hell with it. She’s on her own until I’m recovered.

  Finally reaching the car, I waste no time turning around to head back to town. The BMW flies along the dirt road, leaving a trail of khaki-colored dust, not unlike the color of the hunting clothes I’m still wearing. Except what I’m wearing is drenched in blood.

  As I reach the asphalt, I try the cell, but still no signal. Growling in frustration, I barrel down the road, punching SEND every thirty seconds or so. I don’t get through until I’m nearly back into town. It’s been twenty-seven minutes since I left. I pull over onto the shoulder, shift into neutral, and jam on the parking
brake.

  The hunger flames through me again, surging up my throat and out into my veins, and I hear Sandy answer.

  “Hey, where are you? I tried to call you last night, and you never called back. They released me early this morning and I’m packed and ready to go.”

  But I can’t speak yet. I hold my breath waiting for the fires to die down.

  “Sunny? What’s up? Are you there? Damn cell phones.” And she hangs up.

  I focus on breathing, and finally the hunger quiets enough that I may be able to actually talk. But I don’t have long, as these waves of fire will keep increasing in frequency until they are continuous.

  I’ve traveled this road before, and I dread what is coming around the next bend.

  Pressing SEND again, I put the phone up to my ear and listen to it ring. As it stops, I say, “Sandy. Listen to me. I don’t have much time. You understand?”

  “Yes,” she says quietly. Sharp girl.

  “Good. I’ve had a… a slight setback, and won’t be able to pick you up until probably this evening. I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped. I would be there if I could, but it’s just not possible right now.”

  “Are you okay? You sound like… like you’re in pain or something.”

  Too sharp.

  “I’m fine. I’ll see you this evening. I need to go now.”

  “Okay…”

  Pushing END, I whip the still-running car around and head back up the mountain.

  CHAPTER 13

  It’s near sunset when I get back to the car. As I haul my cleanup kit out of the trunk, revulsion rolls through me at what I’d done to the little deer family I’d found. Once again, I had to trample on my own moral boundaries. However, I can handle the regret a lot better than the inferno that was threatening to engulf me and push me into uncontrollable insanity.

  Insanity that could drive me toward easier prey. Accessible, unaware. Two-legged.

  I slap down the beast and force my thoughts away from the uncomfortable craving now tormenting me. The hunger fires are momentarily quenched, which has allowed the craving to make itself known.

  And the craving is for the one thing I refuse to give it.

  Human blood.

  Damn it. Damn the bear and Nicolas and everything that’s happened to bring me to this point. If I’d stayed in California, I never would have known the sweet song of human blood as it caresses my mouth and fills my veins.

  And I never would have known Nicolas…

  The black hole in my core strains at its bonds, but I pull the stillness tight around it and refuse to let it open.

  Stuffing my bloody clothes into the bag in the trunk, I slam the lid down, yank the driver’s door open, and get in. The BMW repeats its earlier dusty slide as I whip it into a U-turn and head back down the road.

  Sandy’s probably terrorizing the nurses with her impatience. Guess I’ll be adding to their terror when I show up in this mood.

  As I hit the paved road, I start calling. The signal finally goes through.

  “Hi,” Sandy answers quietly.

  “You ready to go? All checked out?” I can’t keep the irritation out of my voice.

  “Yeeaah… Everything okay?”

  “Just fine. Be waiting out front,” I snap.

  “Okay.”

  Ending the call, I try to shrug off the tension that has me feeling like a compressed spring. But it’s no good. My agitation is connected to the craving, and Sandy is just going to have to deal with it.

  Alarm pours through me as I think about her.

  What if the healing hunger is unaffected by Sandy’s… block, or whatever it is that keeps me from reacting to her blood?

  What if the craving overrides everything that protects her from me?

  Oh shit.

  She doesn’t even have money for a cab.

  Turning into the hospital parking lot, I see Sandy waving from a wheelchair outside the door, her backpack and shopping bags on the sidewalk beside her. A nurse is standing behind the chair.

  Damn.

  I pull up to the curb and get out. As I’m walking around the back of the car, the beast growls and stares hard at the nurse. I freeze next to the trunk, afraid to get any closer. The nurse helps Sandy into the car, then with a curious glance at me, takes the wheelchair and heads back to the hospital doors. Once she’s safely inside, I grab Sandy’s stuff and shove it into the back seat, then walk around to the driver’s door.

  The sight of Sandy through the window, the thought of being in the car with her, sends fear rippling across my skin.

  With my breath held tight, I open the door and get in.

  “So… are you okay?” she asks hesitantly.

  “I told you. I’m fine.” I struggle to sound civil, but it’s difficult.

  She’s quiet for a moment, then replies, “You know, you can’t lie to me any better than I can to you.”

  “Drop it.”

  She doesn’t say anything more, and I’m glad, because I’m not in the mood for her babbling tonight.

  So far, so good. The craving is still there, although weaker, but the beast is showing no reaction to Sandy in such close quarters and my tension eases a bit more as we drive to the hotel.

  The loading area in front of the hotel is clear. I park at the curb, get out, and start gathering her things. Her door opens, and I glance over to see her struggling to stand. I reach out and she grabs my hand. I almost pull her to her feet, but remembering how fragile she is, I wait and let her stand at her own speed.

  With a tentative smile, Sandy steps onto the curb and I shut the door. I grab her pack and shopping bags, then gesture with my chin to go ahead. She frowns and walks toward the doors and I follow her into the lobby.

  She glances at me when we reach the elevator.

  “Sunny—”

  “We only have one room now, but it has two beds. I’ll be leaving again shortly and won’t be back until tomorrow, so you’ll have the room to yourself.”

  “But—”

  “How are you feeling, by the way?” I haven’t even asked her. Been too wrapped up in my own crap.

  She stares at the floor a moment, then answers.

  “Still a little tired and sore. But better, I guess.”

  “Good.”

  The elevator doors open and we start to walk in. But someone is in there waiting to come out, and as he walks past me, the beast lunges with a roar. I quickly turn and step to the side, keeping my face averted as I try to control both the beast and the craving that is suddenly clawing at my throat. I blink several times, but my vision stays red.

  Shit.

  “Sunny! The elevator.”

  I can hear the machinery trying to close the doors, and with a quick glance behind me, turn and duck into the car. Sandy steps back inside and lets the doors close.

  Apparently her protection, or whatever the hell it is, doesn’t extend beyond her when I’m in a healing crisis.

  “Sunny, what’s going on? You seem really upset and hostile and, I dunno—are you mad at me? Have you changed your mind? I told you I can take care of myself. You don’t need to do this.” The anguish in her voice nearly chokes me with guilt as the beast slowly calms and my vision begins to clear.

  “I’m sorry, Sandy. This has nothing to do with you. I’m just dealing with some…” I glance at her through a pink haze, then look away again. “Some stuff that came up.”

  The whir of the elevator machinery is the only sound in the car for a long moment.

  “Can I do anything to help?” she asks.

  “No. This is something I need to handle myself. All I want you to do is rest and get better. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She releases a long sigh.

  The elevator stops on our floor and the doors open. I cautiously stick my head out and glance up and down the hall before stepping out. Sandy follows me to the room and waits while I pull the key card out and open the door. I can feel her studying me, and the hunter growls, disliking the scrutiny from t
his human.

  Funny. The hunter reacts the same to Sandy as it does to any human. So why is Sandy able to mute the beast, the bloodthirsty killer? I just don’t get this.

  We walk in and I set her backpack on the bed nearest to the door and her packages in the corner.

  “You can have this bed. I’ve been using the one by the window.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tomorrow we can officially move into the apartment. It’s furnished, but I don’t know what else we’re going to need.” I pause, trying to get my words together. “The problem is, I don’t really know what my… schedule is going to be for the next few days, and we may need to continue to stay here.”

  “Okay. Whatever you want or need to do is fine with me. I’m just grateful to have a place to stay.” Her face softens and her eyes begin to shine.

  “Don’t. Remember what I said. No more crying. It doesn’t do any good and only delays what needs to be done.”

  She sniffs a couple times and nods.

  “Good.” I walk over to my bag, take out my wallet, and pull out several bills. “Here’s money for food. There’s a restaurant next to the lobby. This should cover you for the next couple days in case I can’t get back. The room is taken care of, so you don’t need to worry about that.” I walk over and hand it to her.

  “Ninety dollars?! I could eat for a month on this, maybe longer. I don’t need this much.”

  “You haven’t seen the prices on the menu downstairs.”

  “Well, I could always walk to someplace cheaper. There’s got to be fast food joints around here.” She starts taking stuff out of her backpack, apparently looking for something.

  “I’d rather you not leave the hotel. What if something tears loose or you have a relapse or something? Who’s going to get you to the hospital?”

  “I was doing fine taking care of myself before you… came… along.” She stops as she sees my face. “Okay. Fine. I won’t leave. But what am I supposed to do if I have to be stuck here all day and night? At least at the hospital I had nurses to talk to.” She sits on the bed and crosses her arms.