Rogue Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Immortals of London Book 1)

  Rogue Hunter

  Immortals of London, Volume 1

  K J Baker

  Published by K J Baker, 2022.

  While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  ROGUE HUNTER

  First edition. March 31, 2022.

  Copyright © 2022 K J Baker.

  Written by K J Baker.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 1

  His trail has led me here, to the South Bank of the River Thames in the middle of the night. Through the inky darkness I see expensive loft apartments creeping down to the river’s edge. No lamps shine in the windows, but from across the river the glow of London shimmers in the water. But for the lapping of the river and the occasional bark of a fox, the night is utterly silent.

  My nostrils flare suddenly. Yes, there it is. There’s no mistaking the stink of vampire. Goosebumps prickle my skin. Okay, I admit it: I’m a little nervous. What rogue hunter wouldn’t be when their quarry is finally within reach? Tonight, after weeks of chasing, I’ll confront the bastard.

  I check my weapons: the swords strapped to my hips, the silver knives tucked into the top of each boot. Everything is ready.

  I step from my hiding place and turn in a slow circle, searching for spying eyes. Nothing moves on the water or amongst the apartments. I’m not surprised. Perhaps they sense something is going down tonight and are wisely staying indoors. Or perhaps they’re just asleep. Oblivious.

  Following the scent, I pad silently to the back of one of the buildings. A fire escape hugs the outer wall. Wrapping one hand around the railing, I climb. My boots make no sound on the slick metal. At the top I jump onto the roof and pause.

  From this height I can see London spread out around me, the lights glittering into the distance like some multi-faceted jewel. If I close my eyes I can feel the heartbeat of the city and see the thousands of tiny life-sparks of its inhabitants. Sometimes I envy them. They go about their lives unaware of the predators that stalk them in the night.

  And unaware of the sacrifices we make to protect them.

  Moving to the edge of the roof, I lightly jump down onto a balcony several feet below, pick the lock, disable the alarm, and slip into the apartment. It’s large, opulent. Typical of Hugh Montgomery. Each room faces the river, with floor-to-ceiling windows. I pause as I catch my reflection in one of them. I could easily be mistaken for human. Perhaps even a pretty one. Blonde hair spills down my back in a braid and blue eyes stare back at me from the glass.

  But I’m not human. I’m an immortal. It is my fate to walk this earth long after humans have turned to dust. In the end, we’ll all be alone.

  I shake my head, smiling wryly. Where do these morbid notions keep coming from? They’ve become a habit of late. Ever since...what happened. Frowning, I push the thoughts away and concentrate on my task.

  Faint noises echo from nearby. Reaching down, I pull a knife from my boot then move soundlessly through the apartment and pause outside a closed door. The sounds come from beyond. A rhythmic grunting and high, feminine gasps.

  Shit. I may already be too late.

  Without a sound, I turn the handle and slowly push the door open. A naked couple are on the bed, bodies writhing in passion. The woman’s legs are wrapped around the man’s hips and she makes little moaning sounds as he thrusts on top of her. Neither has noticed me standing there like some seedy voyeur. The woman’s eyes are screwed shut and her head is thrown back, exposing her throat. Two bright red puncture wounds mark her smooth dark skin.

  My stomach sinks. Yes, I’m already too late. She’ll have to die.

  I draw one of my swords. The sound of the metal scraping free alerts the man. His head whips round, black eyes fixing on me. Then his lips pull back into a smile that shows his bloodied fangs.

  “Marney Stone. You are one persistent little bitch.”

  In a movement so quick I barely register it, he leaps off the woman, glides through the air and lands in the middle of the room, dropping into a fighting crouch.

  As his glamor fades, the woman’s eyes snap into focus. She squeals as she sees me standing there, knife in one hand, sword in the other, and yanks the covers over her. She scoots back to sit hunched against the wall, eyes wide with terror.

  I watch Hugh Montgomery warily. A vampire lord gone rogue, he’s one of the most dangerous adversaries I could face. He’s left countless dead in his wake and thwarted all my attempts to corner him. Well, not any more. Tonight it ends. One way or another.

  “You know,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “I’m getting a little tired of this. When are you going to give up? You can’t stop me. Besides, we really shouldn’t be enemies. We’re the same, you and I. We’re both hunters, after all.”

  I can feel the power of his glamor hammering at me, trying to seduce me the way it did the human woman. He’s handsome—they’re always handsome—with sculptured features and glossy black hair that falls onto his shoulders. His white body is muscled and strong. The woman never stood a chance.

  I straighten and speak the words I’ve been waiting to say for weeks. “Hugh Montgomery, you are under arrest for murder and violation of the Treaty. You’ll return with me to the Council to face trial.”

  A mocking smile curls the corner of his mouth. “The Council? That bunch of self-serving weaklings? I don’t recognize their authority! They have no power over me!”

  I shrug, expecting this answer. “Then you leave me no choice.”

  I’m moving before the last word leaves my mouth. My sword flashes diagonally towards him but he spins away and it swishes through the space he’s just occupied. I’m prepared for this, and I swing my other hand, punching my knife into his body. He pulls away, ripping the weapon from my grasp. My hand catches something around his neck, a necklace that snaps and clatters to the floor. Barely seeming to notice, Hugh looks down at the knife-handle sticking from his abdomen and slowly grins.

  I lick my lips. Shit. I’ve missed his heart. With a grunt, he yanks the knife from his belly and flicks it nonchalantly from hand to hand. There is no blood. I growl under my breath. Dammit. Now he’s armed.

  So fast his movements are a blur, Hugh leaps at the wall and uses it as a springboard to launch himself at me. The knife slashes at my face and I jam my sword up to catch it, then sweep his feet from under him, sending him crashing to the floor. I stab down, but he rolls away, and my sword scores along the wooden boards.

  He grabs my wrist and twists. A stab of pain rockets through my forearm and my hand opens involuntarily, sending my sword thumping onto the floor. Hugh grabs my shoulders, rams me against the wall, and pins me there. He leans close, his face inches from my own. His scent envelops me. It’s raw, primal, full of an earthy power. And, I realize, it’s full of arousal.

  Suddenly I’m all too aware of his naked body almost touching mine. Despite myself, my eyes rove over the muscled contours of his limbs, his chest, his belly. I swallow.

  He leans close so that his mouth brushes my ear. His breath is warm against my skin as he whispers intimately, “We could do great things together, Marney. I
could show you ecstasy. If you’ll let me.”

  His finger trails down my side, sending a shiver through my body. His glamor is powerful, I’ll give him that.

  “Don’t fight it,” he purrs. “You know you want it. You know you want me.”

  “Don’t touch me,” I growl through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, come on,” he says, pouting as though hurt. “How long is it since you had a man, Marney? Has there been anyone since your little...accident?”

  I go cold. With a surge of anger, I punch him in the stomach and then dart from beneath his arms.

  “Shut your mouth! You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?” he answers, whirling to face me. A smug smile twists his mouth. “Why do you work alone, Marney? They say you have a heart of ice, but you weren’t always this way, were you? We both know what you did. What you always do. You destroy those who get too close. So tell me, how are you any better than me? At least I’m honest about what I do.”

  Don’t listen, I tell myself. He’s goading you, trying to make you angry.

  Trouble is, it works. I throw myself at him.

  We exchange a series of lightning blows. I aim punches and kicks in his direction but he blocks them all. Shit, he’s good.

  Feigning weakness, I stagger back a few steps. A thrill of triumph crosses his face and he swings his knife at my abdomen. I don’t attempt to block his stroke. That way, he leaves his own chest exposed. So, as his blade slides into my stomach like a freezing icicle, I pull two knives from the tops of my boots and punch them into either side of his chest.

  His eyes go wide with surprise. He stares at me for a second, then his knees buckle, and he crashes to the floor.

  For a moment, I pause, doubled over, sucking in deep breaths. In, out, in, out. Then I grab Hugh’s knife and yank it from my belly in a shower of blood. I may be immortal but I’m not immune to pain. I cry out as searing agony rockets through my body.

  It lasts only a moment. When it’s passed I stoop, retrieve my sword from the floor, and move to stand over the kneeling Hugh. My knives have punched through his upper chest near his shoulders, slicing nerves and rendering him momentarily immobile.

  But it won’t last long.

  He watches me as I step up to him, sword held in both hands. Am I imagining it or does he have a faint smile on his face? As if he knows something I don’t? No matter. In a moment it will be over.

  I raise my sword, ready to take his head, but then grunt as something slams into me. With a jolt, I realize it’s Hugh’s lover jumping onto my back and screeching like a cat. Shit. I’d forgotten all about the woman. She wraps an arm around my throat and yanks me backwards towards the bed.

  “Leave him alone, you bitch!”

  I grasp her forearm, throw my weight forward, and hurl her over my head. She lands on the bed and scrambles up to face me. Her lips pull back in a snarl and I see the sharp points of her fangs. Dammit, she’s turned already.

  I watch her warily. New-born vampires are dangerous, unpredictable and flighty. Right now, this one seems driven by one imperative: the need to protect her master.

  There’s very little of the human woman left. Her features are the same. Her dark hair and skin are the same. And yet, nobody would believe that she’s human any longer. She moves with the grace of a predator and the look in her eyes speaks of insatiable hunger.

  I realize that something’s been bothering me ever since I saw the puncture wounds in her neck. Why did Hugh turn her? He kills his victims. He doesn’t turn them. So what’s changed? I realize the answer almost immediately. He’s recruiting. Making more of his kind. It’s forbidden by the Treaty but that wouldn’t stop a rogue like Hugh. But why? What is he involved in?

  The woman watches me silently. Probably thinking of a hundred different ways to kill me. Stupid. She should be thinking of a hundred different ways to run. I go very still, waiting.

  With a wordless shriek, she springs at me. I raise my sword and she impales herself on the razor-sharp blade. It rips through her chest, punctures her heart, and exits her back. She hisses, clawing at my throat, but all the strength leaks out of her. Her movements become slower, slower, slower. Then stop.

  Gently, I lower her to the floor and close her staring eyes. With a sigh, I pull my sword from her chest and wipe it on the expensive bed covers. After a moment, her body collapses into a pile of ash.

  As always, I feel a pang of regret. My job is to save them, not to kill them. But the woman was already dead. There’s nothing else I could have done. Slowly, I straighten and turn to Hugh.

  And see only an empty space where he’d knelt.

  The bedroom window is open, the curtains gently swirling in the night breeze.

  “No!”

  I cross to the window and look out but there’s no sign of him. No. No. No. Not again. How does he keep thwarting me like this?

  I close my eyes. Draw in a deep, calming breath. Open them again. There will be other opportunities. This isn’t over. I won’t rest until I have him.

  I retrieve my weapons then slowly gaze around the apartment. The authorities will be here soon. They’ll cover up the woman’s death so that no awkward questions are asked. It makes sense. I doubt anyone would want to know the truth.

  Something on the floor catches my eye. Kneeling, I pick it up and realize it’s the necklace I ripped from Hugh’s neck during our fight. It’s a medallion made of gold with a strange symbol embossed on one side. Frowning, I tuck it into my pocket.

  Without looking back, I leave.

  THE STREETS OF LONDON are busy. It’s a Saturday night and crowds of partygoers are spilling out of the clubs and bars. Soft drizzle is falling and neon lights glimmer in the puddles.

  Nobody takes any notice of me. It’s as though there’s some kind of invisible barrier around me. It’s just as well. I prefer to be alone.

  Hugh’s words come back to haunt me. You destroy those who get too close.

  The words were meant to hurt me. Weaken me. Yet, they were true all the same. A familiar stab of guilt cuts through me and I lean against a lamp post, suddenly gasping for air.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur to the face that forms in my memory. “I’m sorry.”

  Ah, hell. Will it ever get easier? Time, they keep telling me. Time. But it doesn’t seem to make any difference. Perhaps that’s why I work so hard to hunt down rogues and protect humanity.

  Perhaps I’m searching for absolution.

  I turn into a wide, tree-lined street. Tall, Georgian townhouses march away in grandiose symmetry. Most of their windows are dark but a candle burns in one. I approach, press my palm against the black lacquered door, and mumble a word under my breath. The door swings silently open.

  I find myself in an antechamber with a marble floor and a large closed door at one end. Before the door stand two guards with drawn swords. They smile as they see me.

  “Marney. Any luck tonight?” says the taller one.

  I shrug. “Depends on your definition of luck. Is the Council ready?”

  He nods. “We got word of the engagement about half an hour ago. They’re waiting for you.”

  With a nod, I push through the door. The interior of the Council is a series of offices, meeting rooms, training facilities and holding cells. The Georgian houses are a facade, hiding the Council from prying eyes.

  I jog lightly through the corridors until I reach another set of gilded doors. I knock once and then push inside.

  The room beyond is large and circular. A round table sits in the center. Despite the late hour, the table is occupied by five people. One of them stands as I enter. He has silver hair and looks perhaps fifty human years but he’s much, much older than that.

  “Ah, Marney. We’ve been waiting for you. Please take a seat.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  I slide into a vacant seat, feeling the eyes of the others fixed on me. Beside my father sit two humans: Marcus Finch and Isabella MacIntosh. They’re the
liaison between the Council and the British government. They nod a greeting, neither smiling, and I acknowledge them with a nod of my own.

  My eyes slide further along the table and I freeze. Two men watch me steadily. No doubt they can smell Hugh on my clothes.

  I stare back at them defiantly. I’ve never hid my disapproval of having vampires on the Council.

  The elder vampire, Lord Matthias, speaks in a refined voice. “You look as though you’ve been in the wars, Marney. Hugh not as easy a victim as you imagined?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. Is he mocking me? Is he glad Hugh escaped? He shouldn’t be. Hugh is a rogue, breaking the terms of the Treaty by hunting humans. His actions could break the alliance and bring the wrath of the humans down on us.

  And then we’d all be in trouble.

  I scowl at Lord Matthias and look away without answering. My gaze settles on the second vampire. He’s much younger, with dark hair and blue eyes. He watches me steadily. What the hell is he staring at?

  “And you are?” I snap.

  “This is Ciaran Connor,” Lord Matthias says. “He arrived from Belfast an hour ago. I asked for him specifically. He has—how shall I put it? Special skills when it comes to hunting rogues.”

  My jaw tightens. There were rumblings that the Vampire Synod would send an elite tracker to London following the recent spate of killings. As if we’re not capable of dealing with the threat. As if I’m not capable.

  I fix Ciaran Connor with my most piercing glare. It doesn’t seem to have much effect. He smiles then speaks in a lilting Northern Irish accent.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Marney. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  What is that supposed to mean? Have they been discussing me before I arrived?

  “I don’t need your help,” I say coldly.

  “Oh, really?” Lord Matthias says, raising an eyebrow. “So it’s not true that Hugh Montgomery escaped you tonight? It’s not true that a human female was killed in the process?”