Twilight Hunter

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

IT TOOK EVERY ounce of strength Jace had in order to crack open his eyes and stare at the ceiling above him. Someone had taken every drop of energy in his body and sucked it out. What the hell had happened to him? He fought to keep his eyes open while he searched his brain.

The blue haze. The wolf. The shadow man. The Berserkers.

Holy shit. He tried to get up but quickly fell back onto the couch where he’d been lying. Damn it. He pushed against the cushions with his elbows. He had to get up.

Where was he? His eyes darted around the room. David’s apartment?

Someone touched his shoulder and urged him to stay down. Shane’s face swam into view, looming over him. “Don’t try getting up. You need to save your strength if you’re going to channel your Skinwalker abilities again.”

Jace gaped. “How in the hell do you know about—”

“I did some research based on what David told me about what happened to you and the symbol up on your back,” Shane interrupted. “We know what you are, and we know that when you tried to shift, you entered the spirit world instead.”

The room spun. Jace covered his face with his hands and tried to steady his breathing. Out of this world. The whole situation was out of this world.

David’s voice carried from the other side of the room. “Hang on, J, and I’ll help you sit up.”

Jace frowned and started trying to get up again.

David limped to Jace’s side and supported him. “Don’t push it. You need to conserve your energy. You have to enter the spirit world again.”

Jace shoved against him. “The hell I do.”

David gripped him by the shoulders and held him firmly in place. “Jace, you have to. It’s our only chance to beat Robert. To save Allsún.” He dug his fingers into Jace’s shoulder blades, his frustration clear on his face. He over-enunciated each word. “I will not let you fuck this up. If you don’t do everything in your power to find Allsún, I will personally take a hatchet to your head.”

If it were anyone else saying those words, Jace would have punched him to a bloody pulp. Well, if he could have moved without feeling like he was about to topple over, anyway. He examined David’s face, and he knew that underneath the anger, his friend was dying to get back the woman he loved. Damn it. He couldn’t mess this up. “How will going back to the spirit world help me beat Robert?”

Shane raised his hand as if he were answering a question one of his professors had posed. “I did some research once David described what happened to you, and I found all this information about Norse mythology and Berserkers. Most people believe the Berserkers were an elite class of warriors, but the older beliefs are more relevant here. According to this...” He picked up a large book off the floor.

The aged gold lettering glimmered in the light, spelling something out in a language Jace didn’t recognize. Shane flipped through the pages. “Here it is. According to the writer, a Skinwalker must go on a journey with his spirit guide before he can reach his full potential. Then a select few of those Skinwalkers can become Berserker warriors. Is that what happened to you?”

Jace’s jaw clenched. He nodded.

Shane began to pace the room, the large book cradled in his arms. “The only problem is, it doesn’t describe how you become a Berserker and gain the powers of the gods. That’s why you need to go back to the spirit world. You have to find out.”

Jace straightened and brushed David away. “I already know what has to be done.”

Shane stopped pacing and stared at him with eager eyes, and David leaned forward eagerly.

Jace cleared his throat. “There needs to be a blood sacrifice of another Skinwalker. I need to kill a male member of my family.”

A brief moment of silence passed while Shane and David glanced at each other.

Shane let out a long breath. “Shit. We can’t possibly ask you to kill a member of your family.”

David scoffed. He pointed a large finger straight at Shane. “Oh, yes we can.” Turning toward Jace, his eyes filled with determination; he was ready for a fight. “J, you need to track down that deadbeat father of yours and pay him back for all those years of abuse.”

Jace stood slowly and walked across the room. Aside from Frankie, who knew only the bare bones, David was the only one who was aware of his history with his old man. Jace swallowed his anger. “David, I don’t know where he is. I don’t even know if he’s alive. I haven’t seen him since I was a kid.”

Shane slammed the book down on the table. “I’ll get right on that.” He hurried from the room, presumably heading off to find his ever-present laptop.

Silence hung in the air. Jace leaned against the wall, too weak to hold himself up, while David buried his face in his hands.

“I can’t lose her again, J, especially not like this,” David finally said. “I would fight for her myself, if I could. But injured like this...all I’d do is get both of us killed because of my damn pride.” He glanced up at Jace, a look of pure desperation on his face. “You can do this, can’t you?”

“Kill my father?” Jace stared at the wall. The memories of his father beating his mother until she lay sobbing on the kitchen floor invaded his mind.

His father turned his head, directing his anger toward Jace, his eyes glowing gold.

“If I knew where he was, I would’ve done it already.” Jace shook his head. This whole situation was so messed up. “Where’s Frankie? Is she okay?”

“She was fine the last time I saw her. A little shaken up from the whole ordeal, but okay. I think she’s holed up in her apartment. She bolted as soon as you started to come to.”

Pain squeezed Jace’s chest. She hadn’t even bothered to come see him? To make sure he was all right?

I love you, Jace.

Her words had played in his head on a constant loop ever since she’d said them. But now, with her in hiding instead of by his side, doubt crept in.

A deep feeling tugged at Jace’s gut, and he knew he needed to be by her side. Something was wrong. She loved him—didn’t she? Shouldn’t she be here with him? A low growl escaped his throat. What was wrong with him? Why did he care so much?

“I need to see her,” he said.

David straightened. “Jace, you can’t. You need to stay focused right now.”

Without, hesitating, Jace said, “She’s joining me in tracking this sicko. I need to see her. We need to go after him now.” He needed to tell her the truth. He’d never said the words back, and he should have.

He shoved himself away from the wall, using all the energy his body had left to get himself out of there. Groaning, he stood up straight and stumbled toward the door.

“J!” David followed behind him as fast as he could. “J, you don’t want to go over there, man. Listen to me.”

Jace left and headed straight for his woman’s apartment.

FRANKIE SAT WITH her legs crossed on the edge of her bed. She stared down at the picture in her hands, the faces of her parents blacked out and ruined, and sighed.

Jace is a Skinwalker. A Berserker.

A shiver ran down her spine as she thought of the symbol glowing between Jace’s shoulder blades. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t reconcile the two images, the two feelings couldn’t coexist in her mind. Jace was rough, his temper astronomical and his drinking...insane, but was he really capable of cold-blooded murder? The image of his gun trained on her the first night they met flashed in her mind. Even though he hunted her kind, he hadn’t killed her. So he couldn’t be completely evil...right?

She cursed under her breath. Even if Jace was related to her parents’ killer in some way, she needed his help to rescue Allsún. Damn it. She couldn’t fail her friend, but how could she ally herself with a Skinwalker?

The man she loved and the killer she hated more than anything, members of the same species. She shook her head. Her mother always told her life wasn’t fair, but she’d never said that it could be downright cruel. Frankie had learned that for herself—the hard way.

Running her thumb over the photograph, she tried to remember what her mother’s hair felt like, the feel of her father’s touch, but she couldn’t. Only three years since they’d passed, and already her memories of them were fading. She didn’t know which was worse: the pain of remembering their deaths or the realization that the man she loved might somehow be involved.

She set down the picture. The look of confusion in Jace’s eyes when he’d come out of his trance hadn’t been enough to convince her of his innocence. She’d bolted as fast as she could from the club back to her apartment. Since then, her thoughts had been racing nonstop, and she’d been unable to collect them so she could make any sense of how she felt.

The man I love.

She cursed herself. She was an idiot, a total fool. How had she missed the connection? His name carved in the girls’ forearms, her apartment being targeted just after she met him, the killer knowing his name, and now the symbol. And what did she get as a result? A man who didn’t love her, the possible murderer of both her family and her people. He hunted her kind. How could she ever love such a man? And yet she did.

A loud knock interrupted her jumbled thoughts. With mechanical movements, she wandered to the door and stared through the peephole. Her heart jumped in her chest.

Jace.

Shit. What was he doing here? Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Obviously she didn’t want to see him or she would have been by his side. She cursed herself.

You told him you loved him last night. How could he possibly know that’s changed?

Another knock, harder this time, and the door rattled in its frame. “Frankie, I know you’re in there. We need to talk.” His voice came loud and clear through the wood, his tone tinged with frustration.

You said, “I love you,” but he never said it back. He never said it. What does he care if that’s how you feel?

“Frankie, please open the door.” His voice softened, as if his energy had suddenly run out.

She inhaled deeply, slid off the chain lock and opened the door.

Jace was standing in the hallway, leaning against her door frame. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and he looked drained of all energy, but damn him, he was still gorgeous—still perfect in every way. And how could she possibly think that, knowing he might be connected to her parents’ murder?

She turned away and retreated into the apartment.

Following her, Jace stepped inside and shut the door. “We need to talk,” he said.

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the wall. “You already said that when you were out in the hall. But I don’t feel like there’s anything to talk about.” Unless we count the crazy coincidences or the mounting pile of problems with our names on it.

“Did I do something? You’re angry.” He placed his hand on her shoulder and tried to make her face him.

She pulled away and walked deeper into the apartment. She couldn’t look at him.

He followed behind her, close on her heels. “You didn’t check if I was hurt. I became practically possessed in front of your entire pack, and David said you just ran off afterward.”

Frankie scoffed. He was good, acting like he had absolutely no clue. Complete bullshit, and she knew it. “You’ve made it clear you can get along just fine without me. You don’t need help.”

Jace stepped closer, so close that she could feel the heat of him against her back. He snaked his hand around her waist and gently pulled her against him. “I can get along without you, but did I ever say I wanted to?”

She pushed his arm off her. What kind of sick person was he, touching her when he knew how she felt? He was the ultimate temptation. Every inch of her wanted to believe him. “Don’t act like that. Not now.”

“Don’t act like what?”

She spun around to face him. “Don’t act like you care, because you don’t.”

He gaped at her. His expression changed from confusion to frustration. “I don’t care? How have I not shown that I care? I don’t know what else you can ask of me. I’ve suspended all my beliefs for you.”

Frankie frowned. “Suspended all your beliefs? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He stepped toward her, his volume rising to match her own. “It means that even though I’m a hunter, I’ve worked with you. I’ve learned to shift. I even made love to you.”

She laughed. Made love? He had to be kidding. “Is that what you’re calling it now? Making love? Seemed at the time like you thought of it as just a quick fuck.”

He let out a low growl. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She shoved against his chest, but he didn’t budge.

He grabbed hold of her wrists, hard enough to hold her still but gentle enough that he didn’t hurt her. She didn’t know why he was keeping on with his ridiculous act. “Can you please tell me what I’ve done, so I can make it right?” Sadness filled his eyes. “What about last night?”

She looked away as she fought to escape his grasp. “How about when you lied to me?”

“Huh? Lied to you? When did I—”

She ripped her hands away from him and stumbled back. “You told me you were half-werewolf, but you’re way more than that. You’re a Skinwalker. Did you think it was amusing to pretend you were a werewolf so you could take advantage of me during my mating cycle?” Her stomach lurched. Damn, it made her sick just to look at him.

“What?” he roared. “You think I would have slept with you if I hadn’t been compelled to do it?”

Frankie’s breath caught, and her stomach felt as if he’d just kicked her in it. Her head spun. A sharp pain stabbed her chest, and the weight of his words hit her like a massive, destructive tidal wave. She backed away from him. Tears rolled down her face, staining her cheeks.

Jace’s eyes widened, as if he’d just realized what he’d said. “Shit. I didn’t mean that. Not like that. Frankie, I—”

Her hands clenched into fists. “Save it for someone who cares, Jace.” Her brain tore in two—she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to punch him or sob into his shoulder.

He shook his head. “I didn’t know I was a Skinwalker. I thought I was half-werewolf.”

She turned and pounded her fist into the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. She rested her head against it. “I don’t know why I didn’t recognize it. Shit, I’m so stupid. But the details all blended together. I never should have trusted you. I never should’ve slept with you,” she rambled on.

“Don’t act like you regret it. I was there, Frankie. You care for me, and don’t you dare deny it.”

She refused to meet his eyes. “You’re delusional if you think I could ever care for you.”

He stepped toward her again. “Where is this coming from? Last night you told me you loved me. Now you won’t even look at me.”

“I didn’t mean it!” she yelled. Her chest heaved as her anger came to a head. At that moment, she really did hate him. “When I said I loved you, I was just caught up in the moment. I don’t love you. Now get the hell away from me.”

JACE WOULD GLADLY have taken multiple bullets straight to the heart than hear Frankie’s words. Numb. That was how he felt. His entire body was numb. But the pain... The pain would come later. He knew that for a fact.

He stared at her for several seconds before he finally processed her words. His emotions hit harder than a freight train running at maximum speed. It felt as if someone had drained all the blood from his body. His stomach sank. His eyes burned, but he didn’t cry, though if ever there had been a moment when he would have shed tears, this was it. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it.” She gulped as if she were trying to find the strength to speak. “I can never love you, Jace. You betrayed me.”

His jaw dropped. “Betrayed you? How did I ever betray you?” He stepped toward her.

She shoved him hard until he stumbled back. She was ready for a fight. “Don’t act like you don’t know. You’re a Skinwalker and a werewolf hunter.”

“You say it like I had a choice in the matter.”

“A Skinwalker killed my parents! And based on that symbol, Robert’s a Skinwalker, too. He’s been murdering women and raping them afterward. Your name was carved onto two of the bodies. And you expect me to think all that is coincidence? That you’re not involved somehow? I don’t know what you’ve been up to, but you can’t possibly expect me to believe you’re on my side. You’ve murdered my kind for years, possibly even my parents, and now you might have been a part of murdering those women, too.”

Heat rushed to Jace’s face, and before he knew what he was doing, his fist collided with the wall. Fighting back his anger, it took everything he had not to yell, not to tell her how ridiculous she was being. “You really think I’m a murderer? That I’m capable of that kind of sick, perverted evil?”

She stared at the floor.

“Look at me.”

She didn’t.

He slammed his fist into the wall again. “Damn it, Frankie, look at me. I deserve that much.”

Lifting her head, she met his gaze, tears still pouring down her perfect face.

He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. “If you mean it, tell me you don’t want me here. Tell me to leave and I will.”

Her lower lip quivered. She stared at him for several long moments before she brushed his hand away. “I can’t trust you. I—I don’t want you here, Jace.”

His stomach rolled. “Fine.”

He walked to the door and paused as he grabbed hold of the knob. “I’ll find Allsún on my own.” Without another word, he left, leaving the door open. He charged down the stairs and rushed out to the cold city streets.

Betrayal? Fucking betrayal? If there were two things in life he prided himself on, they were being honest and being loyal. He could be one nasty bastard sometimes, but he would at least give himself that much credit.

He continued down the block to his car, his leather coat wrapped tight around him and his hand itching to grab hold of his flask. His thoughts raced.

She doesn’t love me.

A sharp pain stabbed his heart. He wasn’t sure what to think.

Do I want her to love me?

He shoved the thought aside. He was pathetic. The fact that he’d imagined for even two seconds that he could find happiness in his life was fucking laughable. He was a damn fool. Everything he’d thought he’d known that morning had been thrown out the window, into the street and ran over by a hundred fully loaded semis.

He wasn’t a werewolf at all. His whole career of hunting werewolves, the creatures that reminded him so much of his no-good, deadbeat father, was a lie. A Skinwalker? A Berserker? What did that even mean in any real sense? And now Frankie didn’t even love him.

Hopes and dreams crushed flat, every one of them.

He turned and stared back at her apartment complex. Damn it. He was kidding himself if he thought he could walk out on her. He stared unseeingly out the windshield. What the hell did he have to lose? She already hated him. And really, he couldn’t blame her.

FRANKIE SLAMMED THE door behind Jace, and the resounding bang shuddered through her small apartment. She stood, panting in fury, eyes fixed on the doorway where he’d been standing only moments before. The sting of betrayal stabbed at her heart, and her blood boiled so hot she felt steam could fly out her ears. Damn him for leading her on. Damn him for sleeping with her when he didn’t care. Damn him for making her fall in...

Love.

Her emotions ran the gamut as her anger simmered down to a wrenching sadness.

She leaned back against the door frame and slid down it until she reached the floor. Letting out a loud sob, she buried her face in her hands. How could he? She would never understand how someone she loved could be so manipulative. So cruel. She could feel her heart breaking.

He lied to me.

The thought of the pained look in his eyes when he stormed out clouded her thoughts. She couldn’t get it out of her head. Damn, he was good. Even when she knew the truth, knew he had to be involved in some way, all he had to do was look at her with those gorgeous emerald eyes and she wanted to cave in to him instantly, wanted to believe everything he said.

A large fist pounded against the door, and a jolt ran down her spine.

Jace.

Her stomach dropped, and she tried to stop herself from hyperventilating. She needed to stand up for herself.

Like hell I’m going to let him get away with treating me like dirt. I’m better than this.

Pushing herself off the ground, she stood.

“You know what, Jace, you just need to—” She wrenched open the door and stumbled back.

Before she knew what was happening, Robert came at her full force. He pinned her against the wall and held his knife against her throat. The blade cut into her skin, and a thin line of blood trickled down her collarbone.

Robert sneered. “Nice to see you again, packmaster.” He spat the last word and looked down at her as if she was nothing more than a pathetic dog.

Frankie pressed herself as tight against the wall as possible and fought to slow her breathing. Calm. She needed to be calm. “What are you doing here?” She barely managed to choke out the words.

“Retrieving you. You see, I kidnapped one of your little pack members. But apparently she wasn’t important enough for you to come save her.” He grinned. “Turns out that she isn’t a werewolf at all. First time I’ve ever tortured a faerie. But I have to say, so far I’m finding it quite amusing. Who knew iron was such a useful weapon?”

“You bastard,” Frankie growled.

He leaned more weight on the blade and the cut deepened just enough to exponentially enhance her pain. “Enough with the insults, my dear. Dirty mouths aren’t appealing on women, even canine whores.” He dragged the tip of the knife down her collarbone, stopping inches away from her breasts.

She hissed from the sting. Blood gushed from the tear in her skin, and pain seared through her.

“I’d absolutely love to take my blade to that beautiful chest of yours.” He trailed the flat part of the blade over her right breast. “But we’ll save that for later.”

She glared at him, though she couldn’t fight the shivers running down her spine. “You’re a sick freak.”

With his blade safely away from her throat, she kneed him hard in the groin. He crumpled over exactly as she’d expected. She brought her elbow up and slammed it down into his spine. He toppled to the floor, but he managed to grab her ankle in the process.

He was strong, and when he pulled on her leg she slammed to the floor. She scrambled to her feet, but not before Robert regained his footing, too. He grabbed her shoulder, his knife at the ready. Spinning out of his grasp, she unleashed a roundhouse kick that hit him square in the face.

With a loud curse, he stumbled back, clutching his bloodied nose. Before he could retaliate, she punched him straight in the solar plexus. Gasping for air, he fell to his knees. Now was her chance. She bolted for the door, but before she’d run even five feet, Robert stabbed the blade of his knife through her blue jeans and into her calf.

She screamed in agony. Pain shot up her leg and radiated through her entire body, but she didn’t stop. She stumbled toward her door, moving as fast as she could. Blood gushed from her wound, leaving a crimson trail. She reached for the knob of the open door, and she used it to steady herself.

Without warning Robert tackled her from behind. He caught her off balance and slammed her into the wall.

“Back off, you filthy piece of shit.” She clawed at his face with her fingernails, scratching anything she could reach.

He clutched both hands around her throat. Lifting her off the ground, he choked her as he pinned her against the wall. “I said, no. More. Insults.”

Frankie clawed at his hands, trying to escape. She kicked her feet in hopes of hitting him in the groin, but it was no use. Black spots clouded her vision as she felt herself start to slip into darkness. The last thing she saw was Robert’s twisted grin.

“Sleep now, little packmaster. You can rest until the fun starts.”

JOGGING THE HALF block back to the building, Jace reviewed everything he could possibly say to convince Frankie of his innocence. Somehow, nothing he came up with seemed like enough. When he reached the building, he bounded up the steps, wrenched the door open and headed straight for the stairs.

He stopped in his tracks.

Crouching to the floor, he rubbed his finger across a small red speckle. He lifted his hand to his nose and sniffed. The smell of iron filled his nostrils.

Blood.

Jace sprinted up the stairs to the second floor. Frankie’s door hung open. His stomach flipped. “Shit.” He ran into the apartment at full speed but quickly skidded to a halt.

Blood. Frankie’s blood.

There was a large pool on the floor, with small droplets leading out of the apartment. Robert had her. He knew it without question. All his fault. If he hadn’t left her...

A loud roar ripped from Jace’s throat as anger flooded every inch of his body. He barely took the time to scan the writing that dripped in fresh blood across the walls before he stormed out of the apartment. He was going to tear that fucker to pieces.

Come to the abandoned warehouse in Honeoye. Better hurry, my dear Jace, before I kill them both.