Page 16 of The Huntress

Her badge and gun had no effect on them. In fact, as soon as she flashed them, she lost both. Bastards. More demerits coming her way. Captain would have her ass for this, again. She’djustreceived her replacement gun. Not to mention, her stranded police vehicle would draw unwanted attention from her fellow officers. Everyone would clear out when this festival ended, with no evidence of anything having happened. No bodies, no blood, no signs whatsoever except for her police vehicle. It would look as if she drove to the middle of nowhere for no reason. Shit. She hadn’t even disabled the tracker.

Her focus returned to her surroundings, to the eager chatter of the participants. As far as she’d overheard, it was an obstacle course. If the suckbloods caught you, they’d drain the blood from your body and leave you to die. The women who made it through to the finish line would suffer the conversion, and only a handful survived that process. This was mortifying. By her calculations, Val had a thirty-three percent chance of survival, even less since mathematics had never been Callie’s strong point. The cancer had drained Val of her energy and personality but not her will to survive.

“Val,” Callie yelled into the crowd, drawing attention from a few women. None deigned to help her.Bitches.

They faced the front where a tall man waited. The head suckblood. She didn’t spare him a glance. Why would she care that he was gorgeous, so well-built, and any other description the women whispered?

“Val!” she called again. She scanned these pitiful women, searching for a redhead.

How many were participating? Two hundred, three? How many would make it through?The air hung with desperation and aggression. How many would kill each other to reach the finish line? She shuddered and doubled her efforts to find her sister, fearing more than the possible conversion.

There! She spotted short-cropped auburn hair at five-foot-seven—the right height for her sister.

“Val,” she screamed. In slow motion, she faced Callie with at least five rows of women between them.

Val’s green eyes widened in recognition, then angry determination, before she whipped away from her.

“Val!” Callie’s voice cracked. She tried to push through the women between them. They held firm, making her realize she was close to the front line. They refused to give. “If you get out of my effing way, I can grab my sister and get her away from here. Two fewer women to worry about.” She tried to negotiate with the women, but their lack of compassion cemented their features.

“You lie,” a woman snarled.

“I do not,” Callie said, shocked someone would imply she’d do such a thing.

“You’ll die like the rest of them, bitch,” said the stocky woman next to her.

Callie gaped, stunned—not by the insults—but by the sheer stupidity emanating from the women. What was wrong with them?

She blinked at the healed bite marks on their exposed skin, shoulders, necks, arms.

They were feeders.

Her lips curled in distaste. You couldn’t talk to feeders. They only saw the ecstasy they received when they volunteered for suckbloods to feed from them. Rumors said a vampire’s saliva could heal, but repeated feedings from the same spot left their mark.

She shuddered and shuffled to the side, trying to go around. After another few frustrating minutes, the packed bodies made it hopeless too, and she elbowed her way back until she had Val in her sights again.

The hollow blast of a starting pistol silenced the incessant chatter, and the women burst forward. The crowd carried Callie toward the trees, ignoring her screams. She pushed forward, trying to reach Val, who sprinted surprisingly well for a cancer patient. Callie wanted to stop her before they breached the dense forest forming part of the course.

She was little over five feet from her now when the path split, but the women shoved her to the left, away from Val.

“No!” She twisted to go back, but the crowd wouldn’t let her. “Get the fuck out of the way.” Callie’s booming shout shredded her throat, but it didn’t matter when they ignored her.

Val’s disappearing bobbing redhead had panic gripping Callie, tensing her muscles, and driving logic to the far edges of her mind. She wished she had her gun—she’d kill these stupid women where they ran. They were dead anyway once the suckbloods joined the feeding frenzy.

She jumped off the path and out of the way of the charging women. From this vantage point, the stampeding masses raced down the two paths. She had a bird’s eye view of the suckbloods descending as if from the sky. They helped themselves to the stragglers.

It disgusted and fascinated her as female and male suckbloods drained woman after woman—the abused, slaughtered, or sacrificed bodies lay abandoned afterward. She never saw the act of it happening, and if she had, she’d learned many years ago to cordon off the part of her mind that cared. Corpses were clues and puzzles needing solving, nothing more.

One suckblood paused and tilted his head at her, his black eyes menacing, his interest clear as he drew in a deep breath. He grinned, his pointed blood-coated teeth denting his bloodied lip. With a cry, she took off, not along any path in use but through the middle, making her own path.

“What the hell were you thinking, Callie?” She gasped. “This was your stupidest idea yet.” She grunted, wiping sweat off her temple with a flick of her wrist. “Now you’re food. How can you help Val if you’re dead?”

She vaulted over tree roots and big boulders, not a stranger to exercise as law enforcement. Her job required she ran, dived, rolled, or ducked. On top of a protruding boulder, she stopped to get her bearings. Women screamed as they stampeded on the left and right of her, so she was sure she was in the middle of both paths. She tried to discern a focus point. A white object lay straight ahead. She would aim for that.

She stumbled forward as soon as something behind her crashed through the branches like an unskilled hunter. He toyed with her—hisfood.It fueled her to run faster, harder, even though he made noises only to spook her.

Argh.How she hated suckbloods.

With branches slapping across her face and bare arms, she sprinted to the whitething. Focusing her breathing, she sucked in great gulps of air as sweat dripped into her eyes, stinging and blurring her vision.

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