Midnight Predator

“You’re not going to win,” Ravyn said.

Meanwhile, Turquoise watched Ravyn’s arm carefully, waiting for telltale signs that the hunter was about to move. The muscles tensed.

Turquoise saw the movement before Ravyn actually attacked with the whip, and raised her own. The two leather braids twined around each other. Ravyn pulled hers away with a practiced flourish, and then attacked low.

The material of Turquoise’s pant slit, but the blow wasn’t hard enough to draw blood.

“Are you playing with me, Ravyn?” she asked. Turquoise flicked her own whip, which cut open the stomach of Ravyn’s shirt, and Ravyn jumped back a pace. The wound did not bleed, but she could have made it do so if she had wanted. Turquoise saw the unease that slid behind Ravyn’s eyes as she realized her opponent had more skill than she had suspected.

Ravyn masked the emotion. “And here I thought you had no taste for fun,” she teased. This time when her whip cracked, it fell where Turquoise’s left cheek should have been. Turquoise ducked out of the way, cracking her own whip as she moved.

“You little brat!” Ravyn’s free hand went to the new cut on her weapon arm.

“First blood, Ravyn,” Turquoise said calmly, hyper-focused.

Ravyn’s whip came down hard, too fast for Turquoise to get out of the way, and landed on Turquoise’s left shoulder at the hardest part of the snap. The skin split.

“First blood, Turquoise,” Ravyn said sweetly. “I saw Daryl a day ago,” she commented. “He gave me some pointers.”

Turquoise let the barb bounce off her ears. Ravyn’s whip cracked again. Turquoise moved slightly, and her opponent’s whip wrapped tightly around the handle of her own. Yanking, Turquoise pulled the other hunter off balance. Before even bothering to untangle the two weapons, she flicked her own, and it cut open the back of Ravyn’s left shoulder. Second blood.

Ravyn rotated the shoulder that had just been hit, and pulled her weapon away as she again moved back to gain distance.

“A little more practice, Turquoise, and you could be quite good at this,” she encouraged. Ravyn liked the sound of her own voice, apparently. Turquoise personally preferred a silent fight, but many hunters liked to talk; it helped them focus, and their opponents were more likely to be distracted by engaging in dialogue.

Turquoise refused to banter, and attacked again.

Her strike fell short, but she managed to evade Ravyn’s next one. There was blood running down her back from the wound on her shoulder. It wouldn’t be fatal, but Turquoise was annoyed to realize that she would have yet another scar.

Ravyn sidestepped Turquoise’s next attack. Her whip hit Turquoise’s right wrist and snapped around it, a mirror to the blow that Lord Daryl had given her years ago.

She hissed in pain, but forced herself to keep hold of the whip. Her wrist was bleeding heavily. This fight would be over soon.

They were both at second blood. Whoever hit next would be the winner.

Ravyn attacked again, and Turquoise collapsed to the ground to dodge. Then, before the other hunter could react, Turquoise snapped her whip around Ravyn’s ankle and yanked as hard as she could.

Ravyn lost her balance and fell to the floor hard on her back. Before she could recover, Turquoise struck with the whip one more time, drawing a fine band of blood from Ravyn’s left cheek.

“Third blood,” Turquoise announced, rising to her feet. The movement was more painful than she would have expected.

Ravyn silently raised a hand to the mark on her cheek. “If this scars, I am going to bereallyangry,” she snapped as she pulled herself off the floor. “Cheap trick, Turquoise.”

“It worked.”

Sarta had come to Turquoise’s side, and started to wrap a bandage around her wrist wound to stop its bleeding.

“Congratulations, Turquoise,” she began, but Turquoise shook her off, and wrapped the bandage by herself.

“I hope Daryl snaps your neck,” Ravyn growled.

With a chuckle, Gabriel wrapped an arm around his burgundy-haired friend’s waist, pulling her away before she could attack her bleeding adversary. The vampire turned Ravyn toward himself, and licked the blood from her cheek.

Ravyn shoved him away.

Gabriel laughed again. He caught the hunter’s wrist, and again drew her toward himself. He licked the blood from her arm, and Turquoise saw Sarta shake her head in disgust. To Turquoise, Gabriel said simply, “You’re freeblood, Turquoise. Go put a knife in Daryl for me.”

Ravyn leveled her garnet eyes in Turquoise’s direction.

Turquoise tossed the whip down at the burgundy hunter’s feet. “Take the title, Ravyn. I don’t want it.” She saw the shock on Ravyn’s face, but did not bother to stay and explain her decision.

She didn’t want to be leader of Crimson.

She ducked Ravyn’s punch, and ignored the ungrateful threat, then walked out of the Bruja hall for perhaps the last time.

CHAPTER 22

THE BUS RIDE HOME—to Nathaniel’s house, Turquoise hastily amended—was painfully long, and stifling. She wished she had driven, but had not wanted to risk needing to drive home injured. With a light jacket on over the black tank top she had worn to Challenge, Turquoise could feel sweat dripping down her spine. The wound on her shoulder ached as the salt found its way beneath the bandages.

She gave in, and took her jacket off, trying fiercely to ignore the looks people gave her. Maybe it was the wildly tousled hair, or the adrenaline-induced flush to her cheeks that made them stare. Or maybe it was the fact that the bandage on her wrist was highly visible.

She decided she didn’t care. None of these people knew her, or wanted to know her. They weren’t concerned enough to question a stranger.

Now what?she wondered. She was through with Bruja. She would need to kill Daryl eventually. His pride wouldn’t allow him to ignore her forever, and even if she had been willing to hide from him—which she wasn’t—he worked with mercenaries even more than she did, and would be able to track her down eventually.

What else?Eric’s words echoed in her mind.

She needed action, movement, adrenaline. A tame white-picket-fence life would never suit her; it would bore her to death. She also didn’t want to ditch Jaguar and Eric now. With Jeshickah out of the way, Midnight might even prove interesting for a while.

For a while. But forever? For as long as a vampire could live? She didn’t know.

The bus stop was about a mile from Nathaniel’s house, in the center of town. Turquoise would have to walk home, but the day was beautiful and she had plenty of energy.

Hearing her stomach rumble, she took a detour into a gas station convenience store. She slipped her hand into her pants pocket, double-checking to make sure she had enough cash on her for some donuts and a soda. The thought amused her. She had eaten the same fare on her way to Midnight.

“Are you okay?” The old man at the register asked, a worried frown on his face as Turquoise approached to buy her snack.

Turquoise could not conceal her surprise. She had forgotten to put her jacket back on and her battered body was visible. As long as she had been in Bruja, she had stuck to anonymous cities. No one asked questions. But this town was so small and she had chatted with this man on a couple of occasions in the last month. He would know