Wolves of the West: The Hunt Book 2

The car was absolutely silent.

I could have left it alone, could have allowed the silence to fester, but I had trouble leaving things be. So I opened my mouth. And I regretted it.

“It’s strangely nice to all be together,” I rambled as I watched the windshield wipers combat the heavy rain. “You two haven’t spoken since the night that Cerberus showed up at Ben’s place.”

I watched Grant’s hands tense on the steering wheel and Ben’s shoulders stiffen along his seat.

“I wouldn’t call it nice,” Grant said tersely. “I can think of about a hundred things that would better suit that adjective.”

Ben sighed. “This is a lot nicer than what I’ve been through this past week.”

Grant rolled his eyes. “It’s your fault you were caught.”

Ben’s hand tightened on his knee. “The entire pack surrounded me. I was in my other form with no human sense. How was I supposed to outwit them?”

Grant shrugged, not budging an inch. “You should have shifted somewhere else.”

“I don’t have that sort of control,” Ben said bitterly.

“And that’s why you’re a criminal,” Grant spat.

Ben cast a dark glare toward Grant. “Apparently, I’m not the only rogue here.”

Grant’s glare was darker. “I’m not a rogue, mutt.”

“Then what do you call a wolf without a pack?” Ben challenged.

“Okay,” I said, “maybe we should turn on the radio—”

“I have a pack,” Grant countered, eyes straying from the road. “I am taking a break—”

“Who is your alpha?” Ben shot back.

Grant’s face was starting to heat up. “We don’t—”

“Not a pack then.”

“Guys,” I cut in, “could you turn on the radio? Maybe a little bit of soft rock—”

“Maybe I’m not with a pack right now, but I could join one at any time. You can’t. You can only pretend. Does that bother you, Ben?

“Does it bother you that you can only pretend to have things regular wolves can? Like a pack or a mate?”

“Grant,” I warned in a low voice. He was still on edge after witnessing Ben’s and my reunion. He hadn’t taken watching Ben and me embrace very well.

Ben’s face was a mask of bruises. “I am not pretending to have a mate.” I felt my stomach twist. This was going nowhere good.

Grant laughed cruelly.

“Sure, you claim Morda is your mate, but what can you give her? Can’t protect her because you can’t shift. Can’t build her a home because you’re a nomad. Can’t give her children because—”

“Grant!” I called sharply. “That’s enough.”

Grant cast a quick glance at me; his eyes were bright. “How could you live with her when you can’t trust yourself after shifting? What if you hurt her?”

Ben couldn’t say anything, he just stretched out his jaw, purple bruises stretching.

I glared at Grant for him, hating how he was speaking to Ben. I expected tension but not thirty minutes into the road trip.

“I can protect myself, Grant.”

Grant shook his head and changed lanes aggressively. The other driver honked. “Why are you making excuses for him? Ben knows I’m right—he knows that he can’t give you what I can, and you know it too.”

“Stop it,” I warned.

“Seriously, Morda,” Grant went on, “how long could it last between you two before it all went to shit? Six months, a year?”

“Right now, I’d take six months with Ben over another second in this car with you,” I fired back.

Grant met my eyes through the rearview mirror and then dropped his gaze, shaking his head and readjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

We lapsed back into silence.

My frown cut into my face as I leaned over the center console and turned the radio on. I buzzed through a variety of different stations until I found an alternative rock channel that wasn’t too offensive.

I sat back in my seat and folded my arms across my chest, closing my eyes as I listened to the rain hitting the car, the other vehicles whooshing past us, and the soft crooning of the male singer on the radio.

There was nothing easy about this situation. I was the first woman to have two legitimate mates. Being half daughter of the moon and half werewolf, I was blessed with a mate for each side of my DNA.

Ben, my other half, a son of the moon. And Grant, my mate through the divine working of the Moon Goddess. Two men. Two connections forged by fate. And only one of me.

Two mates. Ben, who was calm and collected and destined to only find heartbreak. Ben, who would always be completely alone in the world because of his curse.

Ben, who had experienced nothing but tragedy and was connected to the forest.

And then there was Grant. My White Wolf, who had done nothing but support and protect me. Grant, who covered his heart in chain mail but allowed me to see his flesh.

Grant, who wanted nothing more than to be loved and accepted despite his insistence that he could make it alone. Grant, who had never been put first by anyone before.

Two amazing men who wanted nothing but to love me and be loved in return.

We drove for hours. The sky grew dark rather quickly as the seasonal change had diminished the seemingly never-ending sun of summer.

Fall was setting in, and the overcast sky wasn’t helping to improve the gloom.

My eyes were closed as I leaned my forehead against the cool window. The rain was still falling, and the constant whoosh of the wipers was lulling me into a sleep.

I thought of what I had left behind as we drove, thought of Roseburg and the main street and my mother’s shop and my home. I had only been away a few hours, but I missed them all with a physical ache.

I missed my mother. I missed her guidance and her radiant smile that emphasized the freckles on her cheeks. I missed her smooth hands, which always smelled of sage and coconut butter.

I missed her. And I wanted her back.

I felt the car slow and opened my eyes to see a small, squat motel in front of us. The motel sign was neon and flickering, promising low prices while also inadvertently promising bedbugs and unwashed linen.

I pushed myself up and frowned.

“Why are we stopping?”

“I can’t drive anymore,” Grant said gruffly. “And neither one of you can take my place.”

I was working on the license issue—admittedly, I hadn’t given it much thought since my world expanded to include the supernatural.

Ben didn’t care for cars—he hated them, hated being confined to a small space.

His anxiety showed because as soon as the car came to a halt, he was out of the car, content to stand in the rain if it meant being outside.

I caught Grant’s arm and felt a buzz of electricity between us. His eyes were guarded as he lifted them up to mine.

“Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” I urged, my eyes moving to Ben outside the Jeep.

He was circling the motel, eyeing up the open field and thick forest behind it. It was a lonely building on a lonely highway.

Grant pulled back, so my hand fell from his arm. “It is what it is.”

I frowned. “You were being cruel,” I argued.

Grant’s pale eyes were hard. “I was being honest. You should try it with him, he’ll be less hurt later if you don’t pretend like everything’s fine.”

“He knows his limitations,” I snapped, “how could he not?”

Grant’s eyes softened for one moment before he threw his armor back on. “I need to stretch my legs—get a room for us.”

Without another word passed between us, he threw his door open and stalked out into the rain. I followed his pale hair until he disappeared around the side of the motel.

I sighed and pressed my fists into my eyes for a long moment before I pushed myself off my seat and threw my door open.

The rain was cold and slipped down my skin, flattening my hair to my forehead and soaking the collar of my shirt.

I moved at a brisk jog toward the motel office located in the center of the building.

Ben jogged over to me and threw an arm around my shoulders, trying to angle his body so he took the brunt of the rainfall on his back.

He smiled at me when we were inside the warm space and then shook out his dark hair. It was substantially longer now, falling into his tawny eyes.

I frowned when I saw him underneath the buzzing fluorescents, seeing for the first time how ghastly his injuries were.

He had a long cut above his eye and deep bruising along his jaw and cheekbones. His nose was broken and hadn’t been set—it was probably too late now, so the crooked angle would have to be adopted.

Of course, he had two deep bruises blooming underneath his eyes. His left eye was almost completely swollen. I wanted to kill Dane.

I heard an intake of breath and looked up to see a rail-thin woman sitting behind the counter. She eyed Ben and his beat-up face with a mixture of curiosity, fear, and lust.

She was afraid that he would bring trouble to the business, but at the same time, few women could resist a bad boy.

Ben cleared his throat and exited the stale, little room, gesturing that he’d wait outside. I turned to the woman and read her name tag, LIZ.

“Hi,” I greeted with my brightest smile, “I need a room, please.”

“Is that your man?” she asked, placing a cigarette to her lips and lifting her hands to cup them around the lighter. She took a long drag and then released a large plume of smoke.

I watched as the smoke hung in the air. The room had little to no ventilation.

“A room,” I prompted, stepping forward.

The woman took another drag and nodded. “Sure—sure.” She flipped back and forth through a spiral notebook, pausing every few moments to take a drag and tap the excess ash off the cigarette.

“I’ve only got a few left,” she said. “Do you want a basic suite, one bed?” She fixed me with a watery stare.

I shook my head. “No, I’ll need three beds, or two rooms with—”

Liz waved me off and blew out a cloud of heavy smoke. I tried to hold in my cough. “I can give you the deluxe suite—the only room I have left. I was saving it for something else, but you can take it.”

“How many beds?” I asked.

“Two,” she answered.

I narrowed my eyes. “I need three.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you want three, then you’ll have to go to some other motel. The next one is over an hour away.”

She looked outside to the dark sky and smirked. Liz rested her cigarette on the edge of her ashtray and reached under the desk for a key. “Take it or leave it.”

“Why can’t I have both rooms—”

“One room,” she challenged, enjoying her power trip. “Take it or—”

“Fine,” I grumbled, grabbing the key from her hand. I shook my head as I bent down and scribbled my name in the visitor’s log and then pulled out a few twenties from my back pocket.

I threw the money down on the counter and produced a bitter smile.

The woman picked up the cash and grinned. “I don’t want you or your man causing any trouble either, hear me?”

I said nothing. Rain pelted down on my shoulders as I exited the small space and took a deep breath. Fire was already rising to my palms—I was allowing myself to be provoked too easily.

“Everything okay?” Ben asked, wandering over to me. He looked down at the single key in my hand and frowned.

The room was B-13.

“Fine.”

I led him up the rusting side staircase, taking each step with extreme caution because of the rain. We found the room at the corner of the unit and opened the door.

The room was absolutely tiny. It had two double beds pushed up against each wall, a tiny powder room, an ancient-looking television, and one shabby dresser.

Ben made no noise behind me, but I could feel the tension coming from him.

“Two beds,” I said with a sigh.

“Two beds,” he repeated.

I moved into the small space and excused myself to the bathroom.

The light was terrible—it cast a greenish glow over my skin and flickered if I bumped into the countertop, which was unavoidable in the tiny space.

I looked into the mirror and frowned, pressing my fingers to my skin as I inspected blemishes and dark circles.

I wasn’t exactly a stunner nor did I have enough uniqueness to my features to define me as an exotic beauty. I figured I was fairly average. Dark eyes and long, dark hair.

A heart-shaped face, high cheeks, and a few freckles dusted over a more yellowish complexion. I looked a lot like my mother, just less refined and with features that I couldn’t quite place.

I had never met my father, so I couldn’t speak for our resemblance, but I knew there were parts of me that I couldn’t find in my mother.

The water ran cold no matter which way I twisted the tap, but I used it regardless of the temperature to wash my face and hands.

I raked my hair backward, off my forehead, and slapped my cheeks, trying to see if they could find some color.

Ben was sitting on the far bed when I left the room, eyes focused on his split knuckles. I moved over to him slowly, watching his shoulders tense up as I sat beside him.

Tentatively, I took his right hand in mine and brushed my fingers over the cuts and bruises. He winced but didn’t pull away.

“What happened?” I asked.

Ben swallowed but kept his gaze downward. I stared at the side of his face, once again assessing the damage that had been done to him and fighting the heat that wanted to light my skin on fire.

“I shifted just before you were set to do your ceremony. It went fine—I made sure I was far from the house and far from the town. I was actually in the far woods—the forest where we…” I nodded.

The forest where we had made out. I fought a smile at the memory. “Anyway, I shifted and I—don’t remember much to be honest—I really don’t.

“My memories from when I shift are really fleeting and primal, no words, just images, and even then they’re all too blurry to make out anything more defined than a tree or bush.”

“What do you remember?”

“Alpha Evers told me what happened, which is a lot more reliable than anything I can recall. He said that Cerberus had found me around the house and had herded me upstate where his pack had intervened.

“The chase didn’t last long after that—dodging Cerberus is a lot easier than a real, established pack with two powerful alpha couples.”

“And how did you get hurt?” I asked, my voice tight.

Ben cringed, fingers wandering to the bruises along his jaw without thinking. “I was put into a secure room until I shifted back. Dane found me there.

“I was exhausted after the change and completely defenseless. He wasn’t happy that Alpha Evers was the one to catch me, wasn’t happy that I was being protected by them.

“I guess he wanted to expel some of his frustration.”

I felt rage burning my throat. “What did he do?”

“It’s over,” Ben said.

“What did he do, Ben?” I pressed.

Ben took a hold of my face and forced my eyes to meet his. His thumb rubbed circles on my jaw, calming me slightly. “Morda, it’s over. I’m here. I’m fine. I’ll heal.”

I grabbed his wrist lightly. “When I saw you—” I sucked in a quick breath.

“We’re together now,” he murmured, voice gravelly and rough. His eyes darted down to my mouth, and then I was staring at gold again. “You’re with me now.”

I felt my eyes slip closed as our mouths connected, his warm breath fanning over my face and sliding over my tongue.

I shivered and gripped his arm tighter, following his movements as he led me through the kiss.

It felt amazing to be connected to him again. I could feel my power resonating through his body, could feel whatever it was that connected us. We were made of the same substance; we were equals.

One of his hands slid from my jaw to my hair until he was cradling the back of my head and tugging on the strands ever so gently. I moaned lightly, relishing his control and confidence.

I heard the doorknob turn and pushed myself away just as Grant moved through the door. I felt my cheeks flame as I caught his eye.

He might not have caught us in the act, but our distinct lack of conversation coupled with my tense body and mussed hair communicated the situation perfectly. And Grant hardly missed anything.

I felt the chill from him as he assessed me and then saw the absolute fury in his eyes as he turned to look at Ben.

Grant opened his mouth and then closed it, the veins along his neck taut and straining. He rubbed his jaw and then stuck his hands in his pockets, forcing himself to swallow his anger.

“Two beds,” he rumbled.

“I’ll take the floor,” Ben offered. I didn’t dare look his way while Grant was still working on containing his anger.

“I can sleep on the floor,” I added. “Grant, you’ve been driving all day and Ben’s injured.”

Grant rolled his eyes. “I’m perfectly fine to sleep on the ground.”

“No, I—” Ben interjected.

Grant glared. “I don’t mind and—”

“I have no problem—”

“Enough!” I nearly shouted. “I will sleep on the ground, and that’s it.” Both men opened their mouths to protest, but I cut them both off with a steely glare.

They had both protested multiple times after that point, both trying to prove how able they were to rough it on the floor.

I stood my ground, insisting that by sleeping on the floor, I was creating the least amount of conflict.

Half an hour later, we were all set up and lying in silence. The room was dark, and the air was heavy with a musty scent none of us could place.

The rain was still falling hard outside, and I kept jolting awake every time thunder rumbled.

I fell asleep and caught pieces of a dream. I saw a big open room, ornate in nature and filled with people in black-tie attire. I saw the hem of a red ball gown and the outline of a stag.

Lightning would strike just as these images were starting to materialize, and then I would be staring at the water-stained ceiling.

I sat up in my makeshift bed and pushed my hair off my shoulders, wincing as I stretched my back and found it stiff from the floor. I looked up and found Ben’s bed empty.

Fear ran through me first, but I took a few deep breaths and stood, rifling through his twisted sheets before I came to the only conclusion that made sense.

I tiptoed across the room, careful to not wake up Grant who was sleeping soundly, his pale cheeks attracting what little light was in the room.

I slipped out of the room and pulled my sweater tighter around my frame, adjusting my boots on my heel as I walked toward the rusting staircase.

I found Ben relatively fast. He was standing underneath the overhang at the back of the building, his eyes trained on the woods just a few hundred yards away.

He jumped as I approached, and I grinned at him.

“I’m pretty proud that I just snuck up on you.”

He gave me a tiny smile, tawny eyes almost reflective in the low light. “I was thinking.”

I reached up and stroked the back of his neck, tugging slightly at his overgrown hair. He smiled down at me. “What about?”

Ben drew in a long breath as I tucked myself into his side. I couldn’t help myself. I was attracted to him, to everything about him. His mind, his voice, his body.

I wanted to be near, and when I was near, I needed to be closer.

“About what Grant said to me in the car,” Ben said lowly.

I glanced up at him, but he was holding his eyes away. “He was being cruel.”

“Maybe,” Ben agreed, “but he never said one lie.”

I felt my stomach tighten. “We already worked this out, didn’t we? Nothing is simple or easy or perfect. I thought we agreed that we would just try and—”

“You’re right,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “We did agree.” His tone of voice unsettled me. He spoke as if he were pacifying me, as if he was only trying to make me drop the subject.

I could still see his thoughts moving behind his eyes and worried that what Grant had said hit harder than he was letting on.

“You need to rest,” I urged, tugging on his hoodie. “You’re injured and need to heal.”

He nodded and took my hand, leading the two of us back to the motel room. Grant didn’t stir as we entered, moving as quickly and quietly as we could.

Looking at Grant stirred an assortment of emotions in me, the most dominant being guilt.

I loved Grant, I knew that, but I also had this undeniable connection with Ben that my mind, heart, and soul craved—never mind my body.

I lay down and turned my back to both of them.

I woke up slowly but quickly realized I was no longer on the floor. I was on a bed with two pillows stacked underneath my head and the thin duvet drawn up to my chest.

I explored the mattress with my arms and legs, cheeks rising to a blush as I grazed someone’s skin. I didn’t need to look over to know that it had been Grant who moved me.

I fought off a smile and turned onto my side, stacking my hands underneath my cheek and hiking my leg higher on the mattress.

Grant was sleeping next to me, eyelids a dark purple against the rest of his pale face. His hair, which was an almost shockingly white shade, was mussed and flattened along one side of his head.

He needed a good slap, maybe a kick for disregarding my request to sleep on the ground and for being bold enough to flaunt our intimacy in front of Ben.

I hesitated, though, knowing that this act was at the very core of Grant’s personality. He was a practical person, one who always favored need over want or feeling.

He knew that sleeping on the ground wouldn’t be good for me and moved me for my well-being and comfort—consequences be damned.

He was snoring lightly, his breath catching every now and then. I could hear Ben’s steady breath behind me, his lungs seemingly to expand forever.

I rolled over and stared up at the ceiling, knowing I had to go back to my makeshift bed on the ground before either one of them woke up and Grant became smug and Ben became angry.

The room was calm, and the rain was light outside the window. For the first time in days, I didn’t hear thunder or lightning. I took this as a good sign until I heard the unmistakable caw of a crow.

I sat up in the bed, duvet bunching around my waist as my long hair brushed my ribcage.

The sky outside was still overcast, but the surrounding field and forest were a vibrant green because of the rainfall.

I crept out of bed as quietly as I could, my bare feet hovering above the cool floor for a moment before I took the plunge and caught a shiver.

I moved over to the window, passing Ben who was lying facedown. I did a double take as I looked out over the forest, not believing what I had seen.

Sure enough, when I scanned the tree line once more, I caught what I had seen before. A stag.

I felt a burst of warm air against the back of my neck.

The deer was staring right at me, its dark eyes finding mine despite the distance and dirty windowpane between us. It nudged its head a little higher, its massive antlers reaching for the heavens.

I looked at the animal and felt a rush of dread. It only communicated one word to me.

I turned around and screamed so loudly I produced no sound at all. I backed up rapidly, my entire body slamming against the windowpane and crying out in pain as the ledge rammed into my lower back.

Tears sprang hot and fast as terror flooded through me.

A man had been standing directly behind me. I wasn’t even sure if I could call the figure a man. I didn’t know what it was.

His stature was intimidating—tall and thick and barrel-chested—but it was his face, or lack of, that was truly terrifying.

His skin was a deep gray and his mouth looked as though it was in a later stage of decay. What was left of his lips were gnarled and brown, completely exposing gravestone-yellow teeth and a cracked tongue.

A heavy hood concealed his eyes, but I could see deep-purple shadows underneath and sprawling black veins covering his neck and temples.

I opened my mouth to scream, but the figure lifted a thick, calloused hand and covered my mouth.

I instantly fought against him, throwing my body back and forth between the window and his frame in an attempt to wriggle free.

His twisted mouth came closer to my face, exhaling reeking breath all over my face. Tears were streaming down my face as I tried to scream, tried to fight, tried to summon fire to my ice-cold body.

I could fight this man off—I knew I could—but whatever fire I had in my veins had been extinguished by absolute terror.

“Witch,” the man spat, his voice awful and guttural. As he spoke, a few drops of black blood dripped onto his thickly scarred chin as if it caused him physical pain to speak.

My body grew colder as I realized what I was looking at.

A Daemon Hunter.

I thrashed harder, and to my surprise, I was able to throw my arm back with enough force to send my elbow through the windowpane.

Glass shattered all over my legs and the floor, chunks of it embedding themselves into my skin.

Blood ran thick and hot down my arm, sliding to my wrist and dripping off my fingertips. The Daemon Hunter recoiled and dropped his hold from my mouth. I screamed until my throat felt like it was missing skin.

I closed my eyes, expecting some sort of blow. I jolted when I felt hands on my upper arms, another scream peeling from my aching throat. I heard my name and held my breath, forcing my eyes open.

Ben.

He was absolutely panicked, his tawny eyes large and searching. His skin was bone pale, only showcasing his bruises more prominently. He was speaking, but I couldn’t pick up the words.

My own scream was still bouncing around my brain, and the searing hot pain in my arm was almost too much to handle.

Then I felt Grant take my hand, felt him tug me to a bed, felt his hands pushing on my shoulders so I sat. I saw his pale eyes—calm, collected, composed. I heard his breath, heard his voice, heard his heart.

“We need to run,” I managed to squeeze out.

Sound was back at full volume.

“What happened?”

“Are you okay?”

“Who was here?”

“Were you hurt?”

“Morda?”

“Morda?”

I swallowed and blinked and breathed. “A Daemon Hunter was right here—in the room. He was—he—I—” I choked off as terror began to make my voice tremor. It took a few moments to compose myself.

“It was awful—I’ve never…”

Grant’s eyes were on my arm, which was still bleeding heavily. My shirt was soaked along my ribcage and hemline. “And how did that happen?”

“I forced my arm through the window, to wake you up.”

Guilt flashed in his eyes. “You didn’t try yelling first?”

I gave him a flat look as Ben rose to my defense. “Sometimes fear can lock up your voice.”

I nodded. “It let me go when I shattered the window, and then I screamed, and when I opened my eyes, it was gone. You didn’t—you didn’t see it?”

Ben shook his head. “I woke up when I heard you scream, but when I looked over, you were covering your face with your hands and wailing. I didn’t see anything else.”

“But I can smell something foul,” Grant said roughly. He inhaled and cringed. “It’s an awful smell, sharp and heavy like…”

“Decay,” Ben said, raising his eyes to Grant’s. They shared a long look.

Grant shook his head, eyes confused.

“Not necessarily. Your aunt said the Daemon Hunters were from the same sect as Sun Warriors, and they’re living breathing humans, not monsters. This might be something else.”

I shook my head, adamant. “No. I know what this is. It’s the Dark Men, the Daemon Hunters. It called me a witch, it knew, and it was disgusted.”

Ben nodded. “I think Morda is right. Perhaps the connection between the Daemon Hunters, the Sun Warriors, the Slayers, and the Iron Wielders is simply knowledge.

“Perhaps each group varies, perhaps what they share is a source.”

I stood up and swayed. “I don’t care about this right now. We need to pack our things and leave. We need—”

Grant reached up and stabilized me, fresh worry showing on his face. “Morda, you need to sit down. I need to look at your wound, and I need to—”

I pushed his hand away and stumbled for my bag. I swore and caught myself against the wall, watching in horror as blood streamed down my lifted arm and covered my shoulder.

I felt hands on me and caught Ben’s golden stare.

“You’re injured,” he stated. “We need to fix it.”

“I have medical training,” Grant said.

“So do I,” Ben challenged.

Thankfully, they dropped the petty argument. Ben held my arm still while Grant tried his best to remove the glass with what was available, his fingers and a mini bottle of alcohol.

I yelped and whined and screamed as he dug around my skin, dropping the chunks of glass onto the white comforter.

I was too afraid I’d pass out if I looked at them, but some of them felt as though they were being drawn out of my skin inch by fucking inch.

I squeezed Ben’s arm tightly as Grant started yanking on a piece of glass that had sunk in right beside the bone. I curled my back forward and bit his shoulder lightly to keep myself from screaming.

Ben tried his best to comfort me, but the entire situation was uncomfortable.

Lightning struck and lit up the entire room, making all three of us jump as thunder rumbled almost simultaneously.

There was a low yawning sound and then an ear-splitting crack as three trees outside the motel went down.

The rain suddenly began to fall harder and was pouring into the room through the shattered windowpane.

Grant pulled out the last piece of glass and swore as he poured the entire bottle of alcohol over my arm, soaking my pants and stinging my nostrils.

Ben hauled me to my feet a moment later, both of them on high alert as I struggled to stay upright.

“—to go—”

“—hurry. Now.”

The next moment we were all standing outside the door, looking out over the parking lot and highway. My stomach plummeted to my feet, and my ears rang as I saw them.

Standing still in the pouring rain were nearly a dozen Daemon Hunters.

And they were all staring at me.