Page 54 of Bloodhunter

Shane reached behind the seat after we climbed from thetruck, and emerged with a semi-automatic short barrel shotgun. It lookedmean—black and sleek and shiny—and he handled it like it was a special friend.It had an attachment beneath the barrel—a detachable magazine with extrarounds. A lot of them, by the looks of it.

As a hunter, he could kill vampires with that shotgun, aslong as he shot them through their hearts. And he didn’t look like he’d be thetype of guy to miss whatever he aimed at.

The sight of the gun made me feel better, but onlymarginally. I brought the picture of Gray up on my phone and turned the screentoward him. “This is what he looks like.”

He gave the image a cursory glance, and then we walked tothe bed of the truck and Shane threw open the lid of a large, black box. “Takewhat you need.” He began loading up his belt and pockets with gear.“Flashlight, holy water, stakes, silver…it’s all in here.”

I’d brought my own gear, but I grabbed an extra flashlight.The country wasdark.

“Spooky,” I murmured.

He gave what might have passed for a laugh. “Not a countrygirl?”

I shook my head. “It’s too quiet. Heavy and dark.” I feltthat heavy darkness pressing in on me, making it a little hard to breathe, andI took a few deep breaths to calm myself before we began walking.

Vampires were a secretive, mysterious group. They had to be.They made sure their secrets were their own, and not even the supernaturalsknew much about them. The humans knew even less. There was much speculation,but not even captured vampires, under torture, gave up their true secrets.

“Whatisthis place?” I muttered as we walked down agravel road, more to hear my voice than to get an answer. The road beckoned uson, silver and silent in the moonlight. No, not silent. Woods lined the road oneither side, and from those woods came the sounds of hooting owls, scurryinganimals, and other country nightlife I could not identify.

And Gray’s scent stayed firmly in my nostrils, in my brain,noisy in its own right.

Shane tapped his phone screen. “Raeven’s Road.”

“Should be renamed Long, Scary-Ass Road,” I muttered. Myheart tap-tapped in my throat, fast and light, and no matter how many deepbreaths I took, it wasn’t slowing.

I shone the beam of my flashlight on the ground. The fogtracks were thick and knee-deep there, and it was more difficult to find thegray in all the others. But I didn’t need to see his tracks. I only needed tosmell them.

“This way.” I concentrated on the scent instead of the crushing,smothery darkness, and I began to breathe a little easier.

The gravel crunched beneath our boots and in minutes, I sawweak, yellow light coming through small windows of the first house on Raeven’sRoad.

“Peoplelivehere,” I said, shocked. “Humans.”

“Not everyone loves city life, baby hunter.”

“My name is Trinity.”

He didn’t answer.

A dog began to bark.

No, that was wrong. An entire pack of snarling, rabidcanines began to bray and howl and paw the ground, eagerness for blood evident intheir strident voices.

At least that was what it sounded like to me.

“Shit,” I whispered. “What do we do now?”

“We keep walking.” He hefted the shotgun. “It’s not thehounds we need to worry about.”

“They’re going to wake everyone in this godforsaken hollow.”

“Doesn’t appear to be a lot of people to awaken,” he said,dryly.

As we passed the house, which was set back from the road, aman yanked open the door and stuck his head out. “Shut up, you damn dogs!”

The hounds continued braying.

“Dear lord,” I murmured. “Things are loud around here.”