Chapter 3 Sydney

Chapter 3 Sydney

 

 

“If you stay quiet, I might make this quick.” The man’s voice was eerily calm. My attacker still had my mouth covered, so I couldn’t respond. Then again, what would I even say?

Yes, sir, Mr. Murder, I’ll be quiet so you can get on with killing me?

I didn’t want to die! My mind raced just as fast as my heart, and adrenaline flooded my system. It was fight-or-flight time, and I leaned toward flight. But how would I get away from him?

To buy myself a little time, I nodded and forced out a muffled “Okay.”

The hand lifted away, and I took a much-needed breath. Slowly, I backed away to put distance between us and to get a look at my attacker. The man wasn’t tall, probably only a few inches taller than my five feet four inches. However, he was stocky, with arms like pythons. I bet he could strangle the life out of me without breaking a sweat. That visual had me taking another retreating step.

“I…I don’t have any money,” I said. A small part of me hoped this was a regular human mugging and not some supernatural drama. Uncle Sam’s accusation that I was only half human, along with my aunt’s and mother’s letters, had me thinking crazy like them.

The man laughed, but the sound was devoid of humor. What made him twice as terrifying was the ghastly scar running from his left eyebrow, across his nose, and stopping at his right cheek. He looked like a true killer.

As he stepped closer, he scanned the room. Then his gaze zeroed in on me. “I don’t want money, half-wolf,” he said.

My dread mounted. While I’d entertained the thought that maybe my aunt and uncle were delusional, I knew this man wasn’t. Looking into his flat cold eyes, he seemed perfectly logical…and deadly.

“I’m not a werewolf.” My voice quivered, but I kept my chin angled upward in defiance. Even if everyone hadn’t gone insane and there were such things as supernatural creatures, I certainly wasn’t one of them. I snorted. “If I were anything but human, I think I’d know.” In all my nineteen years, I’d never run around on all fours, howled at the moon, or…did whatever else werewolves did.

I was so irritated with this entire situation I forgot I was facing a killer, and my flippant switch turned on. I rolled my eyes at the man. “You think if I were a big bad wolf, you’d have me cornered like this? Threatening me? I’d rip you to shreds, buddy.” When my annoyance dwindled, I reminded myself to watch how I spoke to the man. It wasn’t a good idea to get him angry.

To my surprise, the man’s lips lifted into a grin. “I like you. You’ve got guts, kid. Maybe you won’t scream like that woman I gutted earlier. She said she was your aunt.”

“You killed her?” I whispered.

“She begged for her life,” the man taunted.

The little smirk he wore as he casually talked about murdering someone I loved stirred a rage inside me I’d never felt before. It wasn’t the typical annoyance I felt when a customer at the café I worked at was rude. Or the fury I often experienced when Uncle Sam picked a fight with me for no reason. This was something darker—as if something else lurked beneath my skin. It frightened me.

The man reached under his leather jacket for something and took another step toward me. It was a knife. The handle was made from wood, boasting an intricate design of a tree that looked vaguely familiar.

Even with my life in danger, I couldn’t take my eyes off the odd handle as I racked my brain to remember where I’d seen it. Then realization dawned. I’d seen a drawing of the symbol among the pictures and letters in Aunt Lydia’s box.

“I thought it was sweet how she begged for your life, too.”

The man’s voice filtered into my racing thoughts.

“She pleaded with me to spare you until her last breath,” he said.

My jaw tightened. “Shut up.” That strange swirl of murderous rage rose again, and my fists balled. The emotion was uncomfortable because it wasn’t me. I’d never been the violent type. What was happening to me? I felt as if I wanted to rip the man’s throat out.

I froze. I don’t think I even took a breath. It felt as if something wild lurked beneath my skin, wanting to burst free. Could I really be half-beast? My curious nature demanded I analyze this new sensation, but logic told me I had to get away, or I’d end up like Aunt Lydia.

Eyes on the weapon the man held, I asked, “What does that symbol mean?”

He was inching closer to me, and he stopped, eyes widening. “I expected tears, not questions. You do realize I’m here to kill you, right?”

I’ve never been one to easily descend into hysterics, even when afraid. If this man expected me to cry and beg for my life, it would never happen. “Yes, I got that the moment you made the threat earlier.”

Maybe I imagined it, but I swore a flicker of grudging respect flashed in his eyes. He studied me with open curiosity. “You’re handling this better than much stronger, full shifters I’ve encountered,” he murmured.

My gaze swung between his face and his blade. My thoughts were jumbled after everything I’d learned in the space of one afternoon, but I was able to process his words. “So, you’ve killed many others, then? You kill your own kind?”

He blinked. “My kind? What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you a…” I didn’t even want to say it. If I said it, it would mean that I believed all this crap. I sighed. “Werewolf?” I reluctantly muttered.

He sneered. “I’m proudly human. I hunt abominations like you.”

I swallowed hard. Perhaps I should have been running for my life by now, but I’d been launched into a world of confusion, and I just wanted some clarity. Uncle Sam had insisted it was a werewolf that killed Aunt Lydia, but this man confessed to it, and he claimed to be human. “So, you’re…”

“A hunter.”

I almost rolled my eyes at the amount of pride he projected with the announcement. Of course, I had more questions because I didn’t hear anything about hunters from Uncle Sam, and nothing in Aunt Lydia’s box said anything about them.

“Right.” I sighed with disappointment, rubbing the bridge of my nose. I was more lost than I was a few minutes earlier.

The hunter quirked an eyebrow. “I’m impressed with your composure. You’ve got nerves of steel. You could have been one of us—an asset to our team,” he said. “It’s unfortunate about your werewolf half.”

I gawked. Every word I’ve heard since I found my aunt dead created question after question. Why on Earth would he think I could have been like him? Before I could ask, he said, “Enough small talk. I’ve got a long list of creatures to eliminate, and I don’t have all night.”

He lunged in my direction.

Years of dodging some of my uncle’s drunken attacks had sharpened my reflexes. It was like my body knew to move before my brain even caught up. Instantly, after side-stepping him, my fingers wrapped around the armchair in front of the window, and without even thinking about it, I swung it at his head.

The force of my blow knocked him off his feet. He rolled onto his back, blinking rapidly as if daze. Or maybe he was in shock because he didn’t think I’d fight back. Wide-eyed and not sure where I got that burst of strength from, I dropped the chair and hurried toward my backpack. Luckily, I had stuffed everything into it earlier. Snatching it up, I took a step to the door.

The blade the man wielded at me caught my eye. He’d dropped it. Doubling back, I grabbed the weapon and sprinted to the door. The man groaned, and I looked over my shoulder, surprised to see him already staggering to his feet. What was his skull made of? Metal? I’d expected him to stay down at least a few minutes—enough time for me to get away from the motel and hide.

“Damn it,” I huffed and slammed the door shut. As I sprinted down the hallway, I thought about my options. Returning home was out of the question. I suspected that if I ran to Uncle Sam and begged for help, explaining the wholehunterscenario, he’d still send me on my way. I had no close friend whose place I could show up to and ask to crash for the night.

The only thing I could do was, as Aunt Lydia suggested—get the hell out of Nebraska—werewolf shifters and now hunters. I was in deep shit. Going to Louisiana to find my mother’s people…pack looked mighty appealing. So, when I burst through the motel’s exit, I aimed for the bus station two blocks away. Maybe with the help of my mother’s pack, I’d get the answers I needed and survive this crazy world I’d been thrown into.