Page 3 of Hunted Ink

The smell of urine joined the coppery tang of blood in the air, and my upper lip curled in disgust. “Where are your parents? Older siblings?”

“I-I’m adopted,” he whined, eyes wide and fearful. “By humans. I’m all alone here, I swear.”

Please, the voice whispered faintly in my head, and I gritted my teeth, the knife’s grip slick with sweat against my palm. This was what I was trained to do. Hunt down these monsters posing as humans and eliminate them before they could hurt someone—or worse. Please…

My instincts warred inside me, conflicted on the best course of action. Pater would say no exceptions, no doubt commanding me to slash his throat and be done with it. It was no big deal, I’d done it hundreds of times before. But…

I could feel that judging presence inside me, breath held to see what my decision would be.

With a short huff, I let go of his hair and sat back on my heels with a frustrated sigh. He was just a teenager. What kind of risk could he possibly pose?

“W-What are you?” he asked, voice quivering and hoarse from screaming. “Not human…”

“Shut up,” I barked, though I wasn’t sure if I was talking to the boy or to the voice in my head.

Rising from my crouch, I didn’t let myself second-guess what I was about to do. I grabbed the shaft and yanked the arrow out of his thigh. He screamed as a gout of blood erupted from where the four blades of the broadhead tore flesh apart, but even though the metal had been dipped in a toxic resin that kept him in his human form, the wound began to heal before my eyes. The boy whimpered, curling in on himself, but I would bet he’d be walking again in a matter of minutes.

It was unnatural, the way these creatures could shapeshift, hiding in plain sight like sleeper agents. Quick healing, super speed and strength, attuned senses, too violent for anyone’s good. Pater was adamant that they deserved everything we delivered unto them, that we were doing righteous work.

I knew the anger that raged inside me was natural, but it wasn’t directed at the teenager at my feet. He’d done nothing wrong. No, the anger was directed at myself for the choice I was expected to make.

Sheathing my blade, I shook the blood from the arrow and shoved it back in the quiver. “Get out of here,” I commanded roughly.

The boy nodded without question and pushed himself up onto shaky legs. Keeping a wary eye on me over his shoulder, he limped off into the woods.

I stared down at the disturbed duff covered in congealing blood. Dread and indecision played tug-of-war with my guts, hate and fear and shame drawing me deep into the well of darkness that lived inside me.

I clenched my eyes shut. Shit, I let him go. What was I thinking?! I told myself it had nothing to do with the persistent voice in my head, begging me to show mercy. I mean, he was just a boy! And he wasn’t even a predator. He shifted into a deer, a damn herbivore! It wasn’t like he was a danger to humans. Why shouldn’t I have let him go?

Even as I justified letting him live, I resented the fact that it needed to be justified in the first place. I’d been dealing with the guilt of my actions for as long as I could remember, but I didn’t know another way. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this life. But if I didn’t belong with the family that raised me, then where else was I supposed to go?

That feeling of being lost followed me the whole way home, though I wasn’t entirely sure it could be classified as “home.” It certainly wasn’t the kind of wholesome family unit you saw on TV, with parents and their 2.1 kids living in a two-story home in the suburbs, complete with picket fence and a scruffy dog named Rex. No, this was a compound, nestled deep in the woods off an overgrown gravel road, clearly marked with barbed-wire fences and signs that said: TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. It wasn’t an idle threat.

Once upon a time it had been an old farmhouse, but it was impossible to recognize it for what it used to be. It had been stripped down to its bare bones and sectioned off into more bedrooms to accommodate all the orphans Pater had adopted. The wallpaper had been peeled from its walls, the carpets from the floors. The house was meant to be functional, not comfortable. The windows were original, the glass rippled, distorting the view of the woods beyond, but that also meant that the rooms were freezing in the winter, sweltering in the summer. The roof sagged beneath its peeling shingles, leaking all through the spring rains, and the wind found its way through the cracks and howled through the halls like a banshee. The place reeked of damp wood and the thick clay packed beneath the floors—oh, and sweat from too many alphas crammed into the close space.

Home, sweet home.

The truck rocked as I did my best to avoid the potholes, branches scraping down the sides of the rusting vehicle, and as the compound appeared around the final bend, a cold dread spread out to my fingertips. Would Pater take one look at me and see evidence of my failing? I shuddered, the memory of my last punishment still fresh in my mind. So I gritted my teeth and forced my heart to calm, smoothed all expression from my face.

The compound was quiet as I hopped down from the truck and grabbed my gear from the back. Maybe I wouldn’t even see anyone, maybe I could slip straight through to my room and—

“Did you have a successful hunt this evening, Apollo?” Pater asked from the doorway, and I paused only long enough to draw the strap of my quiver over one shoulder.

My boots clomped hollowly as I made my way up the wooden steps. I towered over the hunched senior, so I stopped on the step below and tilted my head down in deference, unable to meet his eyes as I lied. “Yes, Pater.”

He held one hand out, and knowing what he was asking for, I passed him my quiver. He gripped the shafts and pulled them out, inspecting the blood on the broadhead. It was a tool made for delivering justice, and I hoped the blood was evidence enough.

My heart threatened to burst from my chest as he inspected my blades, but I forced it to slow. After a pause that seemed to last an eon, he nodded, smiling down on me like a proud father, the kind of smile I’d always worked so hard to earn. Tonight, it rang hollow. “Well done, son. Don’t forget to clean your blades before you retire for the night.”

“Yes, Pater.” It took everything I had not to sigh in relief.

He stepped aside, and I kept my head bowed as I passed him into the house. I headed straight for my room down the narrow hall that ran the length of the building. I’d almost made it to the safety of my cell when a shadow passed in front of me.

I came up short, senses bristling at the larger alpha who’d blocked my path, his thick biceps crossed over his chest, lips twisted in an arrogant sneer. Seth. There’d always been something about my adopted brother that set my teeth on edge. He had a mean streak he did nothing to hide. He was the type of guy who felt nothing for the lives he’d taken.

Seth leaned in and took a long, deep sniff. “You stink like guilt,” he drawled, his eyes glinting with malevolent glee. “What did you get up to tonight?”

I narrowed my eyes but said nothing. He had no proof. Just a hunch and a chance to get under my skin. Without breaking eye contact, I stepped in, chest to chest. There was a strange tension in the air tonight that made me feel invincible. He was bigger than me, taller, stronger, but part of me hoped he’d pick a fight, just so I could smash my fist through that fucking smirk of his. My hands balled into fists at my sides, and I felt a vibration roll through me.