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The Holy and the Hunted

Page 125

by Anne Malcom

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” His greeting held a sharp edge of tension. “You on your ass after getting bested by a monster.” He extended his hand as he had with the wight.

Relief washed over me like a wave, even though the feeling revolted me. I shouldn’t have been relieved to see Dante’s white, slightly crooked grin or the rigidity to his jaw, the wrinkle between his eyes telling me he was worried.

But I was. I felt like I could breathe again as our eyes locked, as the spice of his scent chased away the bitter stench of hell itself. I wasn’t about to let my feelings be known, though.

I knocked his extended hand out of the way, lumbering up to my feet using my own limited strength. It felt like an impossible effort, every cell in my body protesting as if I were climbing a mountain instead of getting up off the ground. But I managed. Just. Black spots danced in my vision as I straightened, agony curling down my spine. I breathed through it, finally able to see clearly.

Shock dried my throat to see it wasn’t just Dante. Colton was crouched beside Shay’s body, checking for a pulse. He rubbed his hand across his jaw, standing to look at the flaming tree, the creepy devil hole turning like a whirlpool. Then—after presumably wondering if someone slipped him an edible—he turned his attention to me, eyes wide.

He jogged toward us, abruptly coming to a halt a few inches away, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he were having a sudden headache.

“Hadley,” he grunted through pain. “Are you okay?”

Dante and I exchanged a look, both of us suspecting what might’ve been causing his headache. “The witch is dead?” Dante motioned to Shay’s crumpled form.

I nodded.

“Should we be worried about the great void in the tree?” Dante tipped his chin to where the black hole was still swirling.

“Probably.” I stuck my hand into my boot, bristling at the intense discomfort. “Given she was summoning a demon prince when I killed her. Though that spell should’ve died when she did.” I looked to Colton, who was now doubled over, still clutching his head. “Like her curses.”

Though I’d never seen a curse like this reversed, in my experience, people who had been cursed to do things fell into two groups… Those whose brains protected them from the horrors or simply couldn’t handle it, so they didn’t remember. And those who were plagued with the memories and eventually went insane.

If what I was guessing was correct, then Colton was having a barrage of images from the past thirteen plus years thrust at his brain, and he was trying to make sense of them. Not just recollections of all the people he’d murdered but that he’d done so as a werewolf. Yeah, I bet that would cause a headache.

Though I wasn’t filled with bloodthirsty hate toward Colton, I wasn’t exactly feeling warm and fuzzy toward him either. Shadows still remained at the corners of my mind, taunting me with the idea that he was truly guilty. I didn’t want to be the one to comfort him. I might’ve sunk my knife into his carotid if I tried.

“Fuck.” I pulled out my phone and dialed Sharon’s number. “We’re at the Foxhead hike. About a mile in, off the trail. You probably will see a big old flaming tree and a dead witch, who is Shay Finkley by the way.” That was my greeting when she answered after two rings. I didn’t give her a chance to ask questions. “I did your dirty work. She’s dead. Now your son is having one hell of a transition into wolfy life, so you should probably get here. Stat.” My eyes skirted over the ceiling of the trees, where the sun was setting, and the full moon would soon shine bright in the sky.

Great. So Colton was now going to be forced to change. He wouldn’t be cursed anymore, but I didn’t forget what Shay had said.

There was a darkness inside of him. That was the whole point of this. And now that he wasn’t cursed—which was great and all—who could make sure that he turned good on his first change after the curse was released? On a full moon, no less.

“On our way.” Sharon’s reply was tight, her tension palpable.

“You’re welcome for breaking the curse, for saving the day,” I grumbled to dead air.

“Hadley,” Colton groaned, pushing onto his knees to shakily stand. His eyes were glowing blue. His face was contorted in pain, and I could already see his incisors sharpening.

“Of fucking course,” I muttered. “I can’t just bathe in my victory for even a second.”

I stepped forward, wincing at the pain radiating through my skeleton at the motion. Every time my body healed a little, some creature or another decided to throw me through the air.

Dante moved as if he was going to take my elbow and help me, but I shot him a look before returning my focus to Colton.

My feelings for this man were complicated, to say the least. And that was before I found out he was the werewolf who killed my parents.

Now we had to factor in the curse.

Pity.

That was my overriding feeling for Colton. All his life, he’d tried to be the good guy, only to be lied to by his family, abandoned by his high school sweetheart, and cursed by a crazy bitch who had a crush on him.

Plus, he was engaged to a total cunt.

“If you haven’t already figured it out with some serious mental gymnastics, you’re a werewolf,” I told him, trying to be gentle. As if there were a gentle way to tell someone that.

His eyes bugged out, and he winced before grasping his temples.