Hunting the Hunter (Second in Lone Wolf series)

Hunting the Hunter

“Understood.” Brendon replied graciously. “Thank you, sirs, for being understanding.” All the councilmen other than Farris smiled and tipped their heads. Brendon knew that if Farris ever tipped his head to him it would because the old man had finally killed over and had slumped forward, dead in his high backed chair.

“Now, on to the next order of business.” Jeremy stated seriously. “We trust you received our summons and that is why you rushed back?’

“Yes, sir. A vampire in northern Georgia.”

“There are more than a few vampires that call that large town home, however only one is slaughtering men. Nearly every morning a new body turns up from the night before.”

“And you don’t know which of the vampires is doing this?”

“No. We just received word of the problem and so we are relaying the message to you.” Jeremy stated before taking a drink of water from the crystal glass in front of him.

“What am I to do? Kill the vampire or bring it back to the council for punishment? Or perhaps turn it over to the vampire council and let them sort it out.”

The vampire council was little more than a joke but Brendon had to throw the option up into the air. Vampires had developed a ‘council’ in an attempt to ease the fears of mortals and show that they were going to keep their kind in line. The council did nothing of the sort, in fact many of the members had ‘pets’ themselves.

“Kill it.” Alfred replied with a shiver. “I certainly don’t want it here. I never have liked vampires.”

“Don’t screw this one up.” Farris warned and Brendon’s fist clenched but he managed a polite nod. “You are excused.” Farris added with a wave of his hand.

Brendon gave a short nod and then walked out of the council room. He strode down the hallway, ignoring the hello’s from the people he passed along the way.

It wasn’t until he was out in the late spring sunlight that he stopped walking and dug around in his pockets for some rolled tobacco and his matches. He was practically vibrating with rage by the time he got the cigarette lit and took a long slow draw.

Brendon hated that arrogant, pompous assed Farris more than he hated anyone else but he was duty bound to be respectful and obedient of the man. Hunters were born to mortal parents and once their superior strength, eyesight, hearing and sense of smell were realized another Hunter would come and scoop them up, bringing them, usually only around eight or nine years old, to a compound here with the council where they were trained.

Trained to ignore pain, ignore cold, ignore heat and follow orders. They were trained to be master fighters with hands, feet, guns, swords, clubs, axes and any other improvised weapon they could find at hand in a combat situation.

Trained to have unfailing loyalty to the council and paying with blood if that loyalty faltered.

Brendon sighed. With any luck Farris would die soon. Hell the man had been bossing him around for nearly forty years and had to be nearing one hundred by now!

“I hear you got assigned to the vampire in Georgia.” Brendon simply nodded at the sound of Vaughn’s voice.

“Yep.”

“You really pissed Farris off with that stunt you pulled, Brendon.” Vaughn said with disdain and Brendon nodded with a grunt as he took another long puff of tobacco.

Vaughn was Farris’s favorite. His little protégé.

“You better do this one right or else I think Farris is going to have you taken off the assignment list.” Brendon just stared off into the horizon. This part of the country, the far west, was barely settled and there was nothing but this compound for hundreds of miles.

He knew what ‘taken off the assignment list’ meant. There was only one way a Hunter was ever released from his hunting duties and that was if he died. There were no women hunters. No one knew why that was but it was a fact and it made the compound a mighty lonely place.

As a matter of fact, Brendon hadn’t had a woman in so long he couldn’t remember when the last time was exactly. He hated to admit that sex had lost it’s appeal in the last century or so. When you were nearly three-hundred years old, it took quite a bit to excite you and well, Brendon simply hadn’t found what he needed in a long time.

“I don’t understand what your problem is, Brendon. They don’t ask much from us but yet you have to continually do things to anger the council. Don’t you care about……” Brendon did not hear the rest of Vaughn’s scolding because he was already walking away to the barns where his horse was waiting for him.

It would take him awhile to get to Georgia and he simply did not have time for bullshit. The council did not ask much from a Hunter. Only his soul.

Brendon knew the miles would seem even lonelier now than they had a year ago. He had been living this life a long long time and had never given much thought to loneliness. His life was what it was and would always be what it was thanks to being born a Hunter.

But being around Grange, his pack, his wife, had caused him to be lulled into a false sense of belonging. A false sense of family.

Grange had once been a lot like him but Dawn had changed the man. Softened him a bit and yet made him infinitely more powerful. It was clear that Grange loved his mate deeply and that she loved him just as deeply in return. Grange’s pack members loved him as well. He had their friendship, their loyalty.

Brendon wondered for a moment what it would be like to have love. Romantic love, sure, but also the love of a family. He had been taken away from his blood parents nearly three hundred years ago at the age of only seven. He didn’t even remember what they looked like.

Brendon shook his head again to clear the depressing thoughts plaguing him. Life was what it was and wishing for more was a waste of time and energy. He was a Hunter. That was all he would ever be. It was time to get back to work.

He had a vampire to kill.