Rogue Hunter: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Immortals of London Book 1) Page 2

  In my lap, my hands curl into fists. I long to jump across the table and slap his smug face. But I don’t. He has every right to criticize me.

  “He was stronger than I expected,” I mumble.

  “Stronger? Than an immortal? It’s lucky we’ve brought in some help then isn’t it?”

  Oh, how I hate the satisfaction in his voice. It’s only made worse by the fact that he’s right.

  Lord Matthias smiles indulgently then waves a hand. “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”

  Ignoring him, I turn to face my father. “You were right. He returned to the South Bank. He had a human female with him—”

  “Rachel Moore,” Isabella MacIntosh suddenly cuts in. “Her name was Rachel Moore.”

  I incline my head. “He had Rachel with him. But he didn’t kill her, he turned her.”

  My father frowns at me. “Turned her? Are you sure?”

  I smile wryly. “I’m pretty damn sure she wasn’t born with those fangs.”

  “This isn’t like Hugh Montgomery,” my father says, rubbing his chin with one hand. “His disgust for humans is well known. He’s never turned one, only killed them.”

  Isabella MacIntosh clasps her hands on the table in front of her. “Did he give you any indication of why he’d done that? Did he let anything slip, Marney?”

  I shake my head. “No. But that’s how he got away from me. Rachel attacked me and he ran.”

  Isabella and Marcus share a look. I can guess what’s going through their heads. It’s no longer just a murder enquiry. Hugh’s actions take this to a whole new level.

  I take the medallion from my pocket and toss it towards Marcus. It bounces on the polished table top before coming to a halt in front of him. He picks it up in his bony fingers and turns it over, inspecting it in the dim light. After a moment Marcus hands it to my father who inspects it before passing it to Lord Matthias. My father and the vampire lord stare at each other. Something unspoken passes between them. Do they recognize it?

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Lord Matthias hesitates. “Where did you get this?”

  “Hugh was wearing it.” I glance at my father then back to Lord Matthias. “You recognize it, don’t you?”

  Lord Matthias tosses the medallion onto the table with a ‘clink’. It has a stylised face with large, staring eyes and a protruding tongue. It looks more like some ancient Aztec symbol than something I would expect to see around the neck of a vampire. And yet... something about it stirs my memory.

  “How much do you know of vampire history?” Lord Matthias asks. When I shrug he sighs. “Then let me enlighten you. The Treaty between immortals, humans, and vampires was signed in 1592 in the time of Queen Elizabeth I. However, not all accepted the Treaty. A group of rebels formed a sect known as The Church of the Prime—the prime referring to the superiority of vampires. The Church recruited many to their cause and there was civil war amongst my kind. Your father and his warriors managed to stamp them out in the last decades of the 17th century but not before they had decimated the vampire and human populations of Europe. They had an emblem. This emblem.”

  I glance at the medallion. It seems suddenly full of menace. “Why did Hugh have such a thing?”

  “Now that is the question isn’t it?” my father says. His voice is cold as he glares at Lord Matthias. “Why would Hugh Montgomery wear a token of a dead cult?”

  Lord Matthias doesn’t answer. He stares at the medallion, his expression unreadable. But my father won’t be put off. “What do you know of this, Matthias?”

  The vampire lord shrugs. “Rumors. Scaremongering. Nothing more. At least, not until tonight.”

  My father’s eyes narrow. “And now?”

  Lord Matthias licks his lips. He knows better than to annoy my father. “This is probably a hoax. Someone’s idea of a joke.”

  Marcus Finch leans forward. “You’re a poor liar, sir. You understand more than you’re letting on, that much is clear. If the Church of the Prime is operating again, we have to investigate.”

  He fixes Lord Matthias with a hard stare. Matthias glares back, his disdain for humans plain on his face. But Matthias is no fool. He’s all too aware that Marcus and Isabella, although human and physically weaker than any of us, hold much power on the Council. Vampires are few, immortals even fewer, but humans are everywhere. If they decided to make war on us it would be bloody and savage and the outcome anything but clear.

  It’s for that reason that Lord Matthias treats Marcus and Isabella with about as much respect as any vampire can treat a human. He forces a smile onto his face, one that makes him look like the snake he is, and says, “Of course. It will be investigated. That’s why Ciaran is here. He will make enquiries and take whatever action is necessary.”

  I’m on my feet in an instant. “He will not! This is my investigation!”

  “You’ve already proven you’re incapable!” snaps Lord Matthias. “Ciaran is our best tracker—”

  “I don’t give two shits what he is!” I yell, one hand going to the hilt of my sword. “He will keep away from me!”

  Ciaran slowly stands and I turn to glare at him. Who the hell does he think he is? If he gets in my way, I’ll kill him. I can’t read the look he’s giving me. Something halfway between amused and annoyed?

  “I’m here to help, Marney,” he says in his soft Irish accent. “You want to find Hugh, don’t you? That’s what I want too. Shouldn’t we help each other?”

  He’s one smooth bastard, I’ll give him that. He sounds so helpful and reasonable that it makes my objections look like I’m a spoilt brat throwing a tantrum. But I know vampires. They can’t be trusted.

  I turn to my father. “I can handle this. I don’t need any help.”

  I’m better alone. Please don’t make me work with him.

  My father regards me. He’s frowning the way he does when he’s thinking hard. Then he shakes his head.

  “This must be resolved before any more humans are killed. We can’t afford to let Hugh escape a second time.”

  I wince. He may as well have said: You screwed up, Marney. Big time.

  “You and Ciaran will investigate together.”

  “But father, I—”

  “No arguing, Marney. The Vampire Synod has as much invested in a successful outcome as we do. It’s only right they’re involved. You and Ciaran will track Hugh and find this cult if it’s surfaced again. Report back to the Council with whatever you find, but don’t move against them yourselves. Is that clear?”

  Ciaran nods. “Yes, sir.”

  I grind my teeth.

  My father raises an eyebrow at me. “Marney?”

  “Fine.”

  “That’s settled. It’s late. I suggest we all get some rest. Ciaran, Marney, present yourself to the Ops staff first thing in the morning. They’ll get you kitted out.”

  I nod stiffly, turn on my heel, and walk away. I make sure the door slams behind me.

  Chapter 2

  I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take me. It doesn’t. I always find it difficult to rest after a hunt. Too wound up, I suppose. Instead, Hugh’s words keep echoing in my head.

  They say you have a heart of ice, but you weren’t always this way, were you?

  No, I wasn’t. I used to be very different, but I learned my lesson, and I won’t show such weakness again. Not when I understand the consequences. I screw my eyes shut and try very hard to clear my thoughts. I don’t want to go down that road. Not now. But despite my determination, a face suddenly appears in front of my closed eyelids.

  I gasp, jerking upright. Pressing a hand against my chest, I feel my heart thundering. I shake my head, forcing the image away. I won’t think about him. I can’t. If I do, I’m lost.

  With a snarl, I throw myself out of bed, pull open the door to my balcony, and pad outside barefoot. A cool breeze swirls around me. The night-time sounds of London reach my ears: the bark of a fox, the blaring of a siren, the growl
of passing traffic. I lean on the railing, sucking air through my nostrils.

  I need to get started. I need to begin my mission. Or finish it, depending on your point of view. But the sun isn’t up yet and I’ll need to see Ops before they let me go.

  To pass the time, I do some training. I jump into a kick, aiming high, then spin and land exactly back where I began. The sudden rush of adrenaline clears my head a little, so I move from stance to stance in quick succession. In my mind’s eye, it’s Hugh I’m fighting. Or Lord Matthias. Or Ciaran Connor. Any of them will do.

  By the time the sun rises, I’m sweaty and panting. I finish the last of my routines, then clasp my hands at my heart and make a bow to my imaginary opponent.

  I take a quick shower, change my clothes, take the time to ensure all my weapons are in top condition, then make my way from the Council’s living quarters and down into the basement area that makes up Mission Control and Operations.

  Ops is at the heart of the Council’s activities. It’s here that our intelligence is collected, hunters are briefed, equipped, and sent out on missions and where we bring our evidence once a mission is completed.

  The first time my father brought me here, I was wide-eyed with wonder at the maze of labs, testing facilities, training rooms and weapons stores. Now it has little effect on me. It’s early, so the corridors are quiet as I make my way to Olivia’s lab. As I punch the door release and stride through, I freeze.

  Ciaran Connor is sitting in a chair, waiting.

  “Good morning, Marney.”

  I know I should be friendly, but I just can’t help myself. I scowl as I stalk past him and throw myself into a seat, drumming my fingers on the arms. What does he expect? He’s a vampire, I’m an immortal. May as well ask a wolf and a lion to be bosom buddies. It’s never going to happen.

  Although, it seems nobody has told Ciaran that.

  “Sleep well?” he asks in his soft, lilting accent.

  I shrug.

  “Personally, I can never sleep after a hunt. Too wound up.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re a vampire. You don’t need sleep.”

  “True. But I’ve never understood vampires who like to slink about at night, looking all moody and threatening. Night is for sleeping. Day is for having fun.”

  Most people think vampires can’t go out in daylight. I’m not sure where that came from, but its crap. They can go about in sunlight just as we can.

  “And what does a vampire do for ‘fun’?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  He waves a hand. “Oh, the usual. Read poetry. Go for walks in the countryside. Feed the ducks at the local park.”

  I stare at him incredulously. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  His blue eyes sparkle. “Am I?”

  I shake my head. Ciaran is a vampire and a rogue hunter at that. He should be serious, taciturn, full of his own self-importance. But he’s not at all what I expected. He smiles way too much for a vampire and has a sense of humor. What the hell is this?

  I narrow my eyes, trying to tell if he’s mocking me. Finally, I look away and suck in a deep breath. “So. I recommend we start at the apartment where I found Hugh last night. We might find some clues as to where he’s gone. At the very least, we should be able to track him from there.”

  Ciaran nods. “Possibly. But that will be time consuming and may turn up nothing. We know Hugh is connected to the Church of the Prime. I say we start there.”

  “How?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice civil. How dare he disagree with my suggestions?

  “I have a few contacts.”

  “What contacts?”

  He taps his nose. “All in good time, Marney. All in good time.”

  I open my mouth to give him a verbal tirade, but at that moment the door slides open, and Olivia enters. She has always been something of a surrogate aunt to me. Small, quick-witted, and with a tongue that would send even the most battle-hardened soldiers running for cover, she’s run Ops my whole life. I doubt even Lord Matthias would dare cross her, even though she’s human.

  She smiles and ruffles my hair as though I’m five years old. “Take that scowl off your face, young lady. If the wind changes you’ll stay like that.”

  Ciaran jumps to his feet and holds out his hand. “Ciaran Connor, Ma’am.”

  Olivia raises an eyebrow as she shakes his hand. “Ma’am is it? Well, not quite. Maybe one day, eh? If Her Majesty sees fit to give me the honors I deserve. Introductions aren’t necessary. I know who you are.” She marches towards the inner door. “Follow.”

  Inside the next room, racks line the walls. They’re filled with all the apparatus needed for an operation: weapons, clothes, tracking equipment, paraphernalia that I recognize neither the use nor the name of.

  Olivia beckons Ciaran forward and eyes him critically. “Skills?”

  He looks confused. “Um, skills? I’m not sure—”

  “Not sure? You’re a rogue hunter, aren’t you?” She throws up her hands. “Honestly! How the bloody hell am I supposed to kit you out if you don’t even recognize what you’re good at? And here’s me thinking the Belfast lot actually know what they’re doing! Seems I was wrong!”

  Ciaran stares at her, dumbfounded. Two spots of color mark his cheeks and he works his jaw soundlessly, unsure how to respond.

  I stifle a smile. A part of me feels sympathy. I’ve been on the receiving end of Olivia’s temper more times than I care to admit, but another part of me is glad to see him brought down a peg or two.

  “She means your weapons,” I say. “What do you normally fight with?”

  “Oh,” Ciaran shoots me a grateful glance. “The staff and crossbow.”

  Olivia purses her lips as she studies him. “Well, you can’t have a staff. That would be too conspicuous. Unless you want one that’s disguised as a walking stick?” She shakes her head, dismissing the idea. “No, that wouldn’t look right either. How about this?”

  She moves over to one of the shelves and returns carrying a leather satchel, no bigger than a camera case. Pressing a catch on one side, the case pops open and Olivia reaches inside to pull out a small metal contraption.

  I frown, unable to make out what it is, but Ciaran’s eyes go wide and he takes it from Olivia almost reverently. Olivia watches him, nodding to herself. Is that approval I can see in her eyes?

  “I’ve only seen one once before,” Ciaran breathes. He glances at Olivia. “May I?”

  She gestures with one hand. “Go ahead.”

  Ciaran flips the contraption over and then starts fiddling with it, pulling bits of metal out and slotting them in elsewhere. In only seconds a miniature crossbow is assembled.

  Olivia nods. “A stealth bow. Easy to assemble, easy to hide but packing all the power needed to bring down a rogue. This is for long range attacks and stake-outs only. It will be useless in close combat. For that, you’ll need these.” She hands Ciaran a brace of knives. “Lift your shirt.”

  Obediently, Ciaran lifts his top. I swallow involuntarily as my eyes settle on his body. His skin is darker than that of most vampires, a golden color rather than the obligatory white. As I would expect from a rogue hunter, he keeps himself in shape. His chest and stomach ripple with muscle and his biceps are thick, with cords of muscle standing out like tree roots. Then I notice something else. His torso is criss-crossed with tiny white scars.

  My mouth goes dry. I hadn’t taken Ciaran seriously. I’ve been working hard to convince myself that he is just a jumped-up little shit playing at being a rogue hunter. But if his sculpted and scarred body are anything to go by, he’s far more than that.

  Ciaran notices me watching him. His gaze suddenly locks with mine. His eyes are a deep blue, like the sky.

  “Marney, your turn.”

  I jump at Olivia’s voice. She straps the brace of knives around Ciaran’s chest and turns to face me.

  “Sorry, what?” I say, flustered.

  “Are you even listening to me? Come here, girl.”
/>
  I rise to my feet and move to stand in front of her. My eyes flick across the rows of weapons on the wall behind. The Council’s weapons are designed to be small so that we don’t get noticed. My swords are an indulgence. The Council lets me keep them because I’m good with them. Until now.

  Olivia holds out her hand. “Give them here, Marney. You know you can’t walk about London wearing those things. You’ll be arrested in minutes.”

  I scowl, even though I know she’s right. I shrug off the harness and hand it over. I feel oddly naked without the swords’ reassuring weight against my hips.

  Olivia lifts my chin with one finger. “Now, now, there’s no need to look like a child who’s lost her toy to the wicked witch. I’ve got something much better for you.”

  She hands me a short gray tube. It’s cold to my touch but the ridged surface makes it easy to grip. “What’s this?”

  She makes me stand in the center of the room, well away from both her and Ciaran. “Press the button at the top.”

  I do as she asks, jumping with shock as three feet of gleaming, sharp metal comes shooting out of the end. It’s a sword, razor-sharp and slightly curved like a samurai. I lift the blade, marveling at its construction. It’s made of several interlocking pieces of steel that fold together so it can fit inside the handle. The balance is flawless, and as I waft it around experimentally, I realize the reach is better than my swords. As though it was made for me.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Yes, I thought you’d like it,” Olivia answers. “You’ve always had an unhealthy fascination with blades. You can conceal this under your clothes but be careful you don’t pass any metal detectors or you’ll set them screaming like a banshee.”

  Olivia holds out two small, gray cards, one each for me and Ciaran. “Your safe keys. However, if you can manage it, I would much rather you didn’t have to use them. It caused an awful mess last time.”

  With a wry smile, I take the safe key and tuck it into my pocket. Should we get arrested or tangle with the British Secret Service, these keys will notify those in authority so they can extract us without too many questions asked. MI5 know all about the Council—they help us out on occasion—but they’re never too happy when we tread on their toes.