Night Quest

True to her word, she laid a false trail, though it took a good deal more of her energy than she could afford. When she reached her temporary shelter, a small cave in the side of a hill, she gathered up her few possessions and left as quickly as she could, dizzy but still able to maintain a regular pace.

Every step carried her farther and farther away from the human who had inexplicably saved her life, then turned it upside down. Her heart seemed to drag several feet behind her.

By the time she left the woods a few hours later and reached the narrow path that paralleled the old northbound Interstate 5, a cold, driving rain had begun to fall. Normally it would not have bothered her; Opiri had lower body temperatures than humans, but their efficient metabolisms and greater strength enabled them to bear adverse conditions for longer periods.

But her energy was draining away a little more with every hour that passed. Hunger gnawed at her constantly. The weather didn’t make her attempt to find game any easier, and she soon discovered that something had frightened away most of the local wildlife...a situation that might suggest an Opir pack in the area. She needed to avoid such packs at all costs.

As sunset approached, she sat down on a boulder under a stand of pines at the edge of a wide meadow and simply waited. The light began to fade. Nocturnal creatures would soon be venturing from their dens and hiding places, giving her another chance. Whatever came, she would have no choice but to take it.

Something large moved through the undergrowth on the other side of the meadow, an animal powerful enough to disregard any need for stealth.

A bear and her half-grown cubs emerged from the trees. The sow rose up on her hind legs, nostrils flaring, while the cubs tumbled about and cuffed each other in play.

Artemis caught her breath. She had seen plenty of bears before, but something in the scene touched her in a way she hadn’t expected.

She rose slowly, careful not to attract the bears’ attention, and prepared to set off again, feeling as if she had become detached from her body. Pebbles rolled on the ground behind her. She spun around, lost her balance, and then righted herself as she belatedly grabbed at the waterproof case of her bow.

Garret was standing a few feet from the boulder. He had thrown back the hood of his coat, and his wet auburn hair had darkened to a deep brown. His strong face seemed sculpted out of the rain itself, but he seemed no more disturbed by the weather than the bears were.

What disturbed Artemis was that he had approached almost as silently as an Opir. Once again she was surprised at his skill. Surprised—and furious that she had been caught off guard.

The only thing she had to be grateful for was that she perceived him only through her physical senses, not her mental ones. There was no aura to distract her.

Is that truly all you have to be thankful for? an inner voice demanded.

“What are you doing here?” she asked aloud. “Were you following me?”

“Did you finish your hunt?” he asked.

“Leave,” she said, taking an aggressive step toward him. “Leave this place, before I must force you to go.”

He looked her up and down with those keen eyes. “Why are you so afraid?” he asked softly as the rain continued to pelt down on his head and shoulders. “Is the prospect of helping me find a lost child so repugnant to you?”

A human child, she wanted to cry out. Why should I care?

But how could she lie to him, and to herself?

“You would ask me to hunt my own people,” she said.

“They’re barely ‘your people’ at all.”

“But they are. And I believe they have a chance at a better future than what they face in the Citadels or as exiles.”

He arched a brow. “You didn’t mention this before.”

“Why should you listen?”

“What does this ‘better future’ involve, Artemis? Teaching the rogues to follow your example and refuse to take human blood? Convincing them that humans aren’t animals, aren’t just another form of prey? How would they consider that an improvement on their lives now?”

She shook her head sharply. “There is so much you cannot possibly understand.”

“I understand that you follow an ethical code of conduct that stretches to include humans, and that you live alone because you won’t share your life with barbaric killers.”

“I will not debate this with you,” she said, knowing that she’d made a mistake in bringing her philosophy into the argument. “If our positions were reversed,” she said, “would you lead me to humans I might choose to kill?”

“When did I say that I planned to kill anyone?”

“You have made your feelings about Freebloods very clear,” she said, “and you will not hesitate to use any means to save your son.”

“You’re right,” he said, matching the challenge in her voice. “But I’m not seeking revenge. If I can get Timon safely back without resorting to violence—” He broke off and took a deep breath, his gaze shifting to a point somewhere behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder. The bear had obviously seen them and had reared up again. Her formidable teeth flashed in her brown muzzle.

“Is that what you were hunting?” Garret asked.

Artemis licked the moisture from her lips. “I had no plans to attack them,” she said, grasping eagerly at the change of subject.

“But you haven’t found anything else.”

“That is not your concern.”

Garret set his pack down against the boulder. “I think you need my help,” he said.

Growing sick with hunger and the scent of the blood pumping beneath his skin, Artemis stopped herself from falling against the boulder by a sheer act of will. “You cannot help me,” she said.

“Do you object to taking human blood, even if it’s freely given?”

“Freely given—at a price,” she whispered.

“You live in the wilds. I’m well trained, but you’re faster and have keener senses than I do. Even if you won’t come with me, you can point me in the right direction. That’s all I ask.”

His voice began to fade in and out, the sound replaced by a thrumming behind her ears. She tried to convince herself to hold to her convictions, her vow never to take human blood again.

But philosophy would always fail when survival was at stake.

“Come with me,” he said, holding out his hand.

No longer able to resist, she stumbled toward him. He picked up his pack and kept just ahead of her, leading her under the shelter of a stand of close-growing alders. Without quite knowing how she got there, she found herself on the damp ground beside him.

Garret removed his coat and then his shirt, neatly folding both garments and laying them across his pack. Her head began to pound, and she found herself staring at the muscles of his shoulders, arms and chest—an ideal image of human masculinity. There was nothing vulgar in the way he displayed himself, but she felt need pulsing not only in her belly but also between her thighs.

As she struggled with growing delirium, he removed a rubber cord from his pack, tied it around his arm above his biceps and flexed his hand into a fist, raising the veins in his wrist. His forearm was corded with muscle, the kind achieved only through hard manual labor.

But then she looked up at his face and noticed the pulse beating in his neck. Her mouth watered. She knew that he was no serf to be taken by the throat, though the desire to bare her own body, press it against his and sink her teeth into his neck was nearly more than she could endure. She looked at his mouth, the lips slightly parted, and wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

She hadn’t kissed anyone in over a century.

“Are you certain...this is what you wish?” she asked, her voice raw with thirst.