free chapter 2/7

Ryker

Somewhere in the Siberian plain

The air was pleasantly crisp on my warm skin as I walked through the paths around my cabin. Late spring sat comfortably in the budding trees and fragrant breeze. The string of my bow strained against my chest as I carried it slung on my back, my arms were full with a freshly killed stag. The clean arrow wound through its heart dripped blood down my skin until it reached the top of my worn out jeans.

I hauled the kill behind my cabin to the small spring where I had set up a cleaning station. A stainless steel table and sharpened instruments were kept safely under a small overhang. I set down the stag and unstrung my bow inside the cabin.

My hair was getting long again, probably time for my annual haircut. I pushed it out of my face and grabbed my favorite knife. I tossed the stag onto the table out back and began cleaning it.

Carefully, I skinned the great beast. The antlers I cleaned off and tossed in a pile with a few others to be dealt with later. I took my time cutting the skin free, it was a beautiful pelt and I should be able to make something with it later. I had just started cutting the meat when a subtle noise caught my attention.

I turned, throwing the butcher knife in my hand to my target. The blade sank deep into the tree I noted, satisfied. A man with a trim red beard and grey at his temples was leaning against the assaulted pine tree. He raised one thick eyebrow in question, no surprise on his face at all.

"It's good ta see you too," The man mused, his Russian slurred with a Scottish accent.

"Got a lead, Gavin?" I grunted.

Gavin shrugged. "That depends on how interested you are. I don't have much worth your time."

"Hit me," I said, turning back to the stag and grabbing a new knife.

"There's a rogue warlock in Italy running rampant and the family wants it dealt with quietly." Gavin pulled the knife from the tree with a grunt and inspected it.

"Nope," I said.

"Hmm. The packs in Mongolia are fighting again. I'm sure either side would pay you for your services." Gavin walked over to the spring, cleaning off the knife.

"Not really in the mood to play with the wolves just now." I wrapped a few cuts of meat in butcher paper and set them aside.

"Well, there are a few whispers that a house of bloodsuckers in North America is looking for covenless witches. Their contacts in Moscow said they're paying a decent pocket per witch." Gavin set the clean knife on the table.

"How much?" I asked. I wrapped the rest of the cuts of meat and began carrying them to the large outdoor deep freezer.

"Half a million rubles," Gavin said with a grin. "A tempting sum for easy work."

"I'm not hunting down a bunch of little girls for some leech." I placed the last cut of meat in the freezer and started cleaning up the remaining mess of entrails and bones on the table. "What do they even want with lone witches?"

"Who knows?" Gavin tilted his head and scratched his beard. "Well, suit yourself then. Like I said, didn't have much for ya this time."

"What brings you this far east if not a job anyway?" I asked.

"Passing through to see Vissic. Thought I'd say hello and make sure you're still a grouchy hermit." He grinned. "Glad to see some things haven't changed."

I snorted a dark laugh. "If you find Vissic, give him a knife to the kidney for me."

"I'll think about it," Gavin said. "I'll let you know if I hear anything interesting while I'm there."

"Oh, yes, by all means make yourself comfortable. Feel free to stop by as you please," I grumbled.

"Don't mind if I do." Gavin lifted the freezer lid and swiped a packet of meat, depositing it in his leather pack. "See you later, you dusty old lizard."

Ass.

I grunted and Gavin left.

It was finally quiet. Just the sounds of insects, the spring, and the scraping of bones on my knife. I was at peace, and alone, and that's just how it should be.

After cleaning up the mess, I removed my jeans and tossed them over the small bench by the back door. Walking down the hill to the base of the steaming natural hot spring, I sank my body into the water, wiping away any blood from the stag.

I leaned back onto the wooden seat I had built into the spring and sighed. Closing my eyes, I soaked in the water and let the cool air sweep across my shoulders as evening began to set in. The first stars were beginning to shine through the blue sky.

And then, something was off. A growl tore through my chest and I tensed.

My eyes snapped open as ripples swirled in the spring. The air overhead growing warmer. I tensed my muscles, uneasy at the unknown and I stood in the waist-high water.

Smoke filled the space overhead, and a crackle of light. In a flash, a form dropped out of the air a few feet overhead and landed with a splash in the water.

What the hell?

I backed out of the hot spring slowly and crouched into a three point stance, ready to receive an enemy. The ends of my fingers began to grown into sharp claws as I stared at the surface of the water.

Gasp.

A woman popped out of the spring and inhaled, gulping down deep breaths and coughing up water. Wet brown hair clung to her shoulders and her thin cotton dress stuck to her body. A backpack on her shoulders was stuffed to the brim.

"Kto ty, chert voz'mi?" I asked, flexing my claws. A warning.

Her eyes grew wide and she threw a hand over her shoulder, wincing.

"What?" The girl panted, backing up with fear in her eyes. "I don't speak Romanian. This isn't Chicago."

She looked harmless, at least to me I rolled my eyes and waded into the water. "I said, who the hell are you? And it's Russian, not Romanian."

Her mouth opened and snapped shut. She clutched her shoulder harder, a trickle of blood dripping from between her fingers. Her face was starting to get flushed from the steamy water.

"There was an accident with the circle and..." She swallowed hard. "Fuck, it's warm in here."

She eyed me wearily, sweat beading on her skin. I smirked as her eyes roamed over my form. She looked at my face, my eyes were silver and not quite human. The claws at the tips of my fingers were satisfying in their deadly edges. I was also a lot bigger than her. Muscled bulk from a lifetime of fighting every kind of creature under the sun. Her eyes grew wide as she continued to step back, taking in my towering form.

"S-stay back! I know kickboxing," she stammered.

I narrowed my eyes, smelling the lie on her right away. Then a sharp taste hit the air, brushing through my nose and on my tongue. I stopped.

Blood, but not from the stag. This blood had some power in it. Was this some kind of trick?

"What is a witch from Chicago doing in my mountain?" I growled, this time in English. "How did you know about this place?"

"It was an accident. I was going through a portal but not here, wherever here is." She brushed a strand of hair off of her forehead, keeping her eyes trained on me.

"A portal?" I asked, frowning. "Just how far off course did you get?"

"I was... going..." She sighed, her eyes rolling back in her head as her hand slipped from her shoulder. She sank into the water with a splash, the weight of her backpack pulling her down.

Well shit.

I sank forward and caught her limp body, holding her to my chest. She was still breathing, but she was overheating and she had lost a lot of blood from that gash in her arm. If I wanted answers I wasn't going to get them from her corpse. I carried her out of the water and inspected her.

Now that she was out of the water, I could see gashes on her knees, though not as bad as the deep one on her upper arm. Her blood dripped down my stomach and onto the ground. I brushed the long hair out of her eyes. If her face wasn't contorted in pain she probably would have been pretty. I adjusted her weight in my arms, but her backpack was making things awkward. I sliced the straps of her backpack at the shoulders with sharp claws and carried it.

I brought her up the hill and to the cabin. I kicked the door open, bringing the witch inside and laying her on the couch.

Blood smeared a bit on the leather of the couch. Her black cotton dress clung to her every curve in wet rivulets. My nostrils flared, taking in her scent. Under the layers of rum and tobacco lay a sweetness to her skin. I let a low growl rumble through my chest in appreciation.

I pulled off her boots, discarding them by the large lit fireplace to dry out. I threw her backpack over there too.

I peeled off her dress and hung it over a chair. She lay there in her undergarments and a few pieces of jewelry I didn't bother to remove. I knew better than to mess with a witch's charms, they could do just about anything and usually had nasty surprises for those who touched them.

It had been a while since I had been around humans, even magical ones. Well, other than Gavin but he was hardly the norm. I remember them being fragile, but I wasn't sure how bad that was with witches. This would have been more than easy enough for a supernatural being to recover from, but was it enough for something like her?

I toweled her off, leaving the towel under the couch where it continued to catch her dripping wet hair. Then I grabbed a box from under the kitchen counter and began cleaning and bandaging her wounds. She moaned once, but never snapped out of her hot stupor.

I dried off her cleaned and bandaged body and carried her up the narrow staircase to the loft. I put her in the only bed that the cabin had, mine. It would smell like her later, but that wasn't necessarily a terrible thing. The scent of female in my bed always made for a good night's sleep.

I cleaned up the blood she left on the couch and floor, and put on a clean pair of jeans. I poured myself a drink, staring up at the loft while I enjoyed it from the couch.

A witch. Right after learning that I could turn her in for half a million rubles, and she landed right in my damn lap.

I was no fan of those bloodsuckers, but I was no friend to witches either. Crafty devils. Always a trick up their sleeve, nothing was ever straight-forward with a witch, they always had to complicate it with their kind of magic.

Magic.

I inhaled deeply. Even from the lower level I could still smell her. There was something in her blood that spoke of magic. Old magic. Not that there was much of it there, but enough for me to sense it. A scent I had all but forgotten but still couldn't quite remember where I knew it from. One of their older covens, probably. I might have killed some of her ancestors or something.

I took a drink from my whisky.

I could sell her and restock some things around the cabin.

I considered the option, then frowned.

On the other hand, she would make good bait to see what the vampires are up to. Collecting covenless witches, it's not to have them over for a fucking picnic.

Growling to myself, I drained the glass and set it in the sink. I grabbed the rest of the bottle and left. The witch would be out for a while, I would finish my soak in the hot spring and think about what to do.

It had been a while since I had left the mountain, and there was only one way to find out what the vampires were up to.

It just might be time to visit Moscow.