Blake's Pursuit (Scanguards Vampires, #11)(66)

He froze for a moment and peered into the darkness. He didn’t have a vampire’s sensitive hearing or eyesight, but as a preternatural creature, he could sense auras. It was how he recognized vampires. And how vampires recognized him as a witch.

And as a witch he could sense the faint impression of the person’s aura that still lingered. A preternatural creature, no doubt, though he couldn’t tell if it was a vampire. Nevertheless, he started running, hoping the trail would last long enough to let him catch up.

Wes charged through the forest, not caring that he sounded like an entire herd of elephants trampling through the woods. It didn’t matter. The aura trail became stronger every minute he was in pursuit of the stranger, which meant his endurance training at Scanguards was finally paying off. Whoever it was, Wes was gaining on him.

However, even though moonlight now shone through the less dense vegetation, he still couldn’t see anybody. He could hear him now, though. Dry twigs were breaking under the person’s feet. Wes used those sounds and the aura trail to keep close behind his target, sucking more air into his lungs as he continued the chase.

The stranger was running uphill now, and from what he could see and hear, he had just reached the peak. The moonlight shining onto that spot should silhouette him against the background, but Wesley saw nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“Impossible,” he murmured to himself, and raced uphill.

When he reached the spot where the person had been only seconds earlier he looked down the other side of the hill. He saw twigs and leaves flying, as if somebody were hurtling down the hill in a hurry, but there was nobody. Nobody visible anyway.

Wes barreled down the hill, careful not to fall. If he broke his neck, it wouldn’t help anybody.

At the bottom, he finally saw what the person was heading for. A wooden shack. Its door flapped. The stranger must have just entered it. Wes charged toward it, kicking the door in with one foot, while aiming his gun into the middle of the wooden hut.

But this wasn’t an ordinary shack, he realized immediately.

At the far end of it was a stone wall with an opening larger than an ordinary door. Past it, he finally saw the person he’d chased. The stranger whirled around, their gazes meeting for a moment.

“Destroy it,” the stranger said.

Stunned, yet still pointing the weapon at the man dressed in dark clothes and a long black coat, Wes asked automatically, “Destroy what?”

“The drug. It’ll only play into the demons’ hands.”

Wes hesitated. “Who are you? Identify yourself!” Because this man was no vampire.

“We’re on the same side, witch!” Then he lifted his hands as if in surrender, and suddenly a stone wall appeared in front of him.

“Shit!”

Wes ran to it, pressed his hand against it, but it was solid rock. How the f*ck had the guy done this? It couldn’t have been witchcraft, because for certain, the stranger was no witch. Yet he’d recognized Wesley as a witch. He was preternatural. That much was certain.

But what was he?

Wes dropped his head, when something caught his attention. He stared at the stone in front of him and concentrated on the grooves in its surface. Then he saw it: somebody had carved a dagger into the boulder. A perfect, beautiful ancient dagger. Wes traced the outline with his fingers and felt the stone heat under his touch. Simultaneously, it started to shimmer.

“Fuck!”

He pressed against it, but the heat subsided, as did the glow. The stone was cold again. But the dagger was still there. And he knew he’d seen this dagger somewhere before. Somewhere in a book.





34


Lilo listened anxiously while Quinn spoke to somebody on his cell phone.

Several hours ago, Blake had left, leaving her behind at his house, even though she’d wanted to go with him. But he’d used his sexual prowess to make her submit to his wishes. And she was still fuming about that. This was exactly what she didn’t like about men: their dominance—and her own weakness of giving in so quickly.

And to top it all off, Blake had asked Quinn and Rose to babysit her. Not that she didn’t like the couple—in fact she liked them very much—but she didn’t like being manhandled like that. Without her wishes being taken into account. And she’d tell Blake exactly that—just as soon as he was back.

Quinn disconnected the call, slipped his phone into his pocket and walked back into the living room. “That was Oliver.”

Impatient, Lilo asked, “And? What happened?”

“They’ve got Ronny.”

Her heartbeat accelerated. “And Hannah? Is she alright?”

She suddenly felt Rose’s hand on her forearm. Lilo shot her a look, then stared back at Quinn.

A regretful expression crossed his face. “I’m sorry. They didn’t find her. She wasn’t there.”

A sob tore from her chest. “Oh no! He killed her, didn’t he?” It was too late.

“Oh, no, luvvie,” Rose cooed and stroked her arm.

“She’s alive,” Quinn said, approaching.

Lilo met his gaze. But she couldn’t utter a single word.

“But we don’t know where she’s being kept. Not yet anyway.”

“But then how do they know that she’s alive?” Lilo choked out.

Quinn sighed. “She’s alive because they need her.” He exchanged a look with his wife. “I think we should go to headquarters. They’re bringing Ronny in for interrogation. We’ll get more details then.”