Hunting Ground (Alpha & Omega #2)(71)

Anna?

She was gone-unarguably. There was no one beside him in the bed.

The room smelled of vampires and night air, both scents coming from the broken window. He grabbed his jeans and pulled them on. He grabbed shoes and socks because not ripping up his feet might let him catch up with them faster.

Seventh floor would have been impossible, but the second room he'd gotten them had been on the fifth. He jumped out the broken window, landed on his feet, and rolled to soften the fall. He got to his feet, shoulders and knees aching but functional.

He might be able to track them, even in the city-but there was a better way. He recklessly threw open the bond between him and Anna.

The first thing he discovered was that she was not far away, but she was moving fast. And she was hurt-likely her getting hurt was what had allowed him to break whatever spell it was that had put him unconscious. He felt the last trickles of it still trying to hold him-awake and aware he was able to burn away the magic. The spell was pure witchcraft. While the rest of him was focused on finding Anna, a small part noticed that the vampires seemed to have some way of accessing a lot of magic: wolf and witch.

He closed down the bond with his mate until he couldn't feel her pain, until all he had was a direction. Otherwise, distracted by worry and things he couldn't influence until he got there, he wouldn't be able to function effectively. First, find them.

He ran.

The trouble with big cities-especially Seattle with the waterways all over the place-was that he didn't just have to know where she was, but where they were taking her.

South, he thought, sprinting recklessly down the hill. What lay to the south? Beacon Hill, West Seattle, Kent, Renton, Tacoma. Most of the wolves were staying near Downtown, but he thought that the Italians might be staying somewhere in West Seattle.

Airport. Brother Wolf was quite clear and positive. Maybe he'd picked up something from Anna that Charles had missed.

Sea-Tac, he thought-about fifteen miles from the hotel. He could run faster in wolf form, but he'd lose time, and someone might see them on the highway. But if they made it that far, even Brother Wolf couldn't keep up. He'd have to steal a car-which he would do. That would leave Anna in their hands for longer. So he chose to try to catch them now.

Even in this form he ran faster than the car could go on the city streets. The vampires wouldn't want to attract the attention of the police, not with an injured woman in their vehicle. They'd obey speed limits and stop signs.

He was closing in.

It was still dark, and there was not much more traffic than there had been when he'd driven them back to their hotel. No later than five in the morning, he estimated. He hadn't been unconscious long.

They had halted directly ahead. He could see the tail-lights of a minivan no more than a block away, stopped at a red light.

He focused on the traffic light and let his will hold it red. It wasn't something he'd ever done before-and he wasn't sure it would work in a city. But the light stayed red the whole time he ran that block. Stayed red as he launched himself through the back window.

He landed on top of one of the vampires. Without forethought or planning he ripped his head off and threw it in the driver's compartment to add to the confusion. One down. Three to go. Next to his knee there was something long and hard. He grabbed it.

"Shoot him!" The driver was starting toward the back, but there wasn't a lot of room between the front seats, and it slowed him down. Gave Charles time to deal with the last vampire in the back. The front passenger opened his door and jumped out. He was running away or he planned on coming through the side door. Either way, it gave Charles a short window of opportunity where he faced only one.

The female was shouting something about the shotgun when Charles realized that the thing he'd snatched off the floor to use as a weapon was indeed a shotgun. He shoved it through her rib cage and kept going, pushing her through the side window and out into the street. She wasn't dead, but she wasn't going anywhere either. Two down. Two to go.

Anna gasped when the driver, climbing over the front seats, stepped on her.

Inside the van, Charles had the advantage. The small space slowed him down a little-but the vampires were generally faster and more maneuverable, and being inside the van hampered them a lot more.

But inside the van meant Anna, chained to the floor, was in danger. So he grabbed the vampire, feeling the pain of being grabbed in return, and jumped out the passenger-side door when the fourth vampire popped it open. The unexpectedness of the move meant the driver was braced all wrong and Charles could put a lot of push into his jump rather than wasting his strength wrestling against the driver.

The two of them hit the fourth vampire murderously hard, and he dropped the stick he was carrying-it was the size of a cane or fighting stick. Charles didn't take the time to decide which it was-he'd never seen a vampire who carried a weapon so easily turned upon its wielder. But far be it from him to complain about another's stupidity.

Charles released his captive and, by swinging him into the side of the van, managed to get loose in return. He grabbed the stick and stabbed the downed vampire under the rib cage and up through the heart. A werewolf doesn't need a sharpened stake; blunt worked just fine.

That left only one.

He spun to face the van-and saw only damaged sheet metal. He inhaled, trying to pinpoint the other-and heard someone running away. He rounded the side of the van to make sure it was the driver who was running and not some terror-stricken human who had seen the carnage, but there was no mistaking the speed of the vampire for a mere human's.