Page 5 of Of Hearts and Hunters (Fallen Crowns Duet #1)

VERITY

T he Winter air is tearing into my lungs as I race through the icy snow, not giving two shits about staying out of the shadows. I can hear the rampaging of the murder-crazy vamps behind me. I think there are about ten of them after me. Of course, some had to stay with their uptight bitch of a Queen.

That was an absolute shitshow!

I can’t believe I let the Prince slip through my fingers!

I was so close to getting my revenge–and then those motherfuckers showed up!

They were onto me!

I should have suspected an ambush.

That’s why it was so quiet around Vamp HQ. They were hiding on purpose, waiting for me.

How did I not sense that?!

Paxton’s always telling me to concentrate more on my senses. I don’t know how it happened, but I really screwed that up.

I’m approaching the border between Vamp and Korama Territory. I’m so tired that I feel like I’m gonna drop–but if I stop, it’ll be the end of me.

Koramas are usually faster than vamps, but only by a hair. And there are a couple of vamps back there that are gaining on me, and not just because I’m getting tired. They’re strong. Stronger than I’d ever admit to anyone else. And if they get their hands on me, they’ll tear my heart out of my chest.

My paws thud against the slippery ground. I’m within sight of the border. Just a few more paces.

But once I’m across, I doubt these vamps will just magically back off. I trespassed, so they will too. And since I was too fucking proud to call for back up when I got surrounded, no one from the pack will be able to get to me in time.

I’ll die alone.

I’ll die a gruesome death at the hands of Vampyrs. Just like my parents. Just like Briony’s. Just like Paxton’s father. Just like Freddie.

Sudden snarls radiate from either side of the Korama border, the trees shaking in response. Two huge-as-fuck shadows fly from them, revealing my Korma and Kormi. Paxton lands on the vamp who was quite literally on my tail, ripping him in half as Megsie grabs me by my neck and throws me over the border like I’m a pup and not a Kormo.

I wheel just in time to see Megsie decapitate a Vampyr, killing another one by tossing her head straight through the chest of the next attacking vamp. Paxton is slicing his way through the parade of Vampyrs coming up on us. Megsie dances around him, ripping through flesh with her thick claws.

Shame and embarrassment ripple through me as my superiors fight my battle for me. If there was any doubt before, there’s none now: I’m a failure.

Screams rock the border between Heaven and Hell. I can sense other wolves waiting in the wings. I can smell Briony and Chiara. Niles is somewhere too.

The remaining six members of the Cold Moon Pack are here, waiting for their superiors to give the signal.

I’m just about to help when Paxton turns his head and snarls at me, telling me to stop. I freeze in place as my Korma and Kormi finish off the last of the Vampyrs like it’s nothing.

When it’s all over, Paxton approaches me. He’s larger than life when he is a wolf. The leader of the pack is the biggest out of all of us. His black fur is tainted with blood and vamp flesh. His honey-brown eyes are hard as they glare at me.

“You led them right to our door,” he berates me in his Korma Voice. It rings through my ears like nails on a chalkboard. I sink onto my haunches, eventually placing my head between my forepaws in shame.

Koramas talk using a mind link. I can hear him as if he’s talking to me as a human. We can’t read each other’s thoughts, though–thank God, because otherwise, Paxton would know how badly I’m shitting myself right now.

“She did her best, Paxton.”

Paxton leers at Megsie but doesn’t use his Korma Voice on her. It’s usually not a thing Kormas do to Kormis. Still, Megsie puts her head down and says nothing more.

“You know what happened to Freddie. You got in over your head and didn’t call for back-up. You didn't anticipate an ambush.”

“I didn’t–”

A quick snarl causes me to bury my head in my paws again.

“Don’t talk back, pup.”

Pup?!

The force of his ultimate Korma Voice makes a migraine rip into my eardrums. I whimper in pain.

“Think about what you’ve done. I expect a change in attitude.”

Paxton must turn around, because I hear his quiet footfalls in the snow. I lift my head slowly, meeting Megsie’s eyes. She’s not glaring at me, but she looks disappointed. Somehow, that’s worse.

She looks back to Paxton, who is now passing the wolves who are in plain view but unmoving. Megsie turns her gaze to me, barely moving her head to do it.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Veri,” she tells me quietly before turning away from me too.

I can imagine what everyone else is thinking about me as the rest of the pack disappears from the border, leaving me with a bunch of dead vamps.

She can’t do it.

She can’t even kill a newbie vamp.

The Korma never should have chosen her as the new Kormo.

She’s a mistake.

She should have died instead of Frederick.

Trotting down the stairs and trying to ignore the burning all over my body, I spy rain thudding onto the window next to me. It’s rainy season now, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by this. Just makes my day a little more annoying. But it also matches what’s going on in my head–not that I’d ever tell anyone that I compare my feelings to the weather. How pathetic is that?

Briony is a morning person. She’s probably already out of the house and on her way to work. She helps Bodhi open the tavern almost every day. He’s always telling her he doesn’t require help, but I think they both need it, just not for obvious reasons.

A vamp battle ten years ago cost Briony her parents and her grandpa his daughter and son-in-law. Briony and Bodhi were close before, but they’re even tighter now.

That battle was terrible for everyone. Paxton’s dad, the previous Korma, also died during combat. Paxton’s mother, Astraia Costas, barely survived.

And my parents died too.

That was the first time we realized something was suspicious about the Vampyrs.

I was a teenager then, still getting the hang of shifting and never saw the carnage that took place that night. But we definitely heard the stories of Vampyrs sweeping the tavern in broad daylight, killing off a bunch of Koramas before the night of the full moon. My mom ran to inform the Korma–Paxton’s dad–and was killed before she even got to the door.

We don’t know how the vamps can walk in the daylight. The sun is their weakness–it burns like a bitch. We don’t know how they did it then, or how they do it now, but something is making them able to move around during the day. Just another strength they can hold over our heads. We’re not nearly as strong or as fast when we’re not wolves–and the vamps know that, the bastards.

My phone vibrates in my jeans pocket. I'm glad for the interruption because it gets me out of my history recap. I rub my eyes and finish going down the stairs–I guess I was staring at the rain for a while–and head into the kitchen. I’m quick to refill the water in our Keurig machine and yank a mug from our cupboard.

Briony has a thing about collecting mugs. I personally don’t care about that stuff, but I let her do it if it makes her happy–especially if it has to do with family. The one in my hand is a University of Waterloo mug–where Briony’s grandmother went to school.

I stifle a yawn as the coffee trickles into the mug, taking forever to brew. I never sleep well, so coffee is life to me. If I don’t have at least five or six cups a day, I’m in deep shit.

And speaking of deep shit …

Who just messaged me?

I hope it’s not a message from Paxton or Megsie. Not answering right away doesn’t look good, especially after what happened last night.

I must have put my phone back into my pocket while I was getting my coffee ready. I fish it out as quickly as I can, swiping at the screen while my heart thunders in my ears.

My worries are put to rest–sort of–when I see that the sender is Niles, Paxton’s closest friend. He’s already thirty, and a professional, so he and I don’t have a ton in common. He’s a psychiatrist with a new practice on the same street as the gym where Paxton works. I know Niles is obsessed with pack rules and is probably going to lecture me about not thinking clearly last night.

The thing is, I was thinking clearly last night. I remember scouting the streets closest to Vamp Territory and then being hyper-vigilant once I crossed the border.

But maybe that’s my problem.

I just didn’t think about all of the other maneuvers those vamp bastards could come up with: ambush, setting the Prince up as bait.

Ambush and Bait seems to be the only possible explanation for what happened last night. Based on how freaked the Prince was when I got to him, I don’t think he was in on it–or the baby vamp was acting. Either way, I was hoodwinked, and it almost cost me my life, and more importantly, my Korma and Kormi’s. And what if the vamps had crossed into our territory with the rest of the pack, other shifted wolves, and innocent people in town expecting us to protect them, all lining themselves up as sitting ducks?

I turn off the Keurig machine and begin to chug my coffee, not caring about the scalding liquid on my tongue. With my other hand, I gather what’s left of my courage and open the text from Niles.

Do you need to talk about what happened?

Shock pulses through my spine by way of a shudder. Niles isn’t finger-wagging me like Paxton did. I guess the shrink in him is coming out.

I’m no stranger to talking to Niles. When I was younger, and he was going through the ranks to get his career together, I did some sessions with him. As a heartbroken teen who’d lost her parents in a vamp murder spree, I pretty much cried out all my tears in therapy. And even earlier than that–

I shake my head and type an answer, refusing to think about the rest of it.

No.

I’m a very to-the-point kind of person. Briony is always teasing me about that. I just don't have time for phones or hamming it up. I’m sure Niles understands that by now.

I had a feeling you’d say that. But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.

I read the message, ignoring the small–no, tiny –part of me that wants to talk to him. The part of me that feels the big-ass scar on my back even though I didn’t get a scratch on me last night. The corner of my brain that plays evil vamp eyes on a loop that haunt my fucked-up dreams and even more screwed-up life.

I don’t respond. I just put my phone away. I know if I start seeing Niles again for therapy sessions, I’ll become a wussy all over again. And I honestly don’t have time for that.

Bodhi needs me to stay late at the tavern tomorrow, so I need to do my errands this morning instead of tonight. It's my turn to get groceries, and I need to pick up a package at the post office.

I really don’t want to go out in public today. But I have no choice. Briony doesn’t ask for much other than me following the chore chart she made, so I need to suck it up.

It’s ten o’clock. Two hours until I go to work. I can do this.

I knew today was going to be a shitshow. I was just wrong about the when and not the if part. It didn’t happen at the grocery store or the post office, though I could feel more eyes on me than usual (I’m not that important around here–or, at least, I wasn’t until now). It happened just as I was walking into The Azalea Tavern for my afternoon shift.

In the sea of new tourists asking about rooms available and looking through the menus that locals don’t bother with, I see Chiara Costas at a table for two, just about to receive her lunchtime order of fish and chips. She’s not on the schedule for today, which is my first clue that shit’s gonna hit the fan.

Sure enough, Chiara looks up at the little bell that goes off whenever someone opens the door to the pub and notices me. Her hazel eyes narrow.

I don’t have time for Chiara and her bullshit, but I know I deserve some of the looks and whispers. It’s just annoying that Chiara, the one who was begging her big brother to choose her as Kormo, is now wagging her finger at me too.

I have to walk by her table to walk around the bar, so I focus on Bodhi, who’s filling up a bunch of home-brewed beers for a trio of guys, doing my best to ignore the glare from my pain-in-the-ass co-worker and pack mate. But just as I’m passing her, she opens her fucking mouth, and I see red.

“Didn’t think that one through, did you, runt?”

I turn, taking the bait even though I know I shouldn’t. The lack of sleep (though that’s nothing new), my shame for failing such an important mission and my superiors, and my hatred for Chiara are like fire to a dry forest. I also hate it when people call me runt or by my full name. Chiara does both every fucking time she talks to me.

Being the smallest wolf is a huge weakness–and Chiara loves to point that out whenever she fucking can.

“I thought I smelled bullshit,” I snap, folding my arms over my jean jacket.

I’m wearing black leggings with a black crop top, exposing my belly button ring and the fact that I don’t eat enough to sustain myself these days. I usually dress down for work so I can get better tips but also because most people look past me anyway. All they see are big boobs, wide hips, and an ass that has been pinched far too many times by strangers who think tossing me an extra toonie is worth the bruises and the emotional shit I bury deep down inside.

Chiara is the opposite. She’s hot as hell with her perfect black hair and fucking flawless skin, but she dresses modestly and is far less ‘abrasive’ than me (according to her).

Chiara loves getting what she wants–which in this case is pissing me off. She picks up a fry as if me going at her isn't the least bit threatening. “I told Paxton this would happen,” she states as if she’s talking to herself, taking a bite and staring straight ahead.

It’s like I’m not even fucking here anymore!

“Yeah. You being surrounded by vamps sounds like a fun time to me.”

Chiara’s hazel eyes meet my brown ones, clearly picking up what I’m putting down. At least if Chiara had been Kormo instead of me, her ass would’ve been on the line last night and not mine. Bitch can put her money where her mouth is. Still, I’m stoked that I’ve baited her this time.

“Pity you survived. I thought even a new Vampyr Prince could’ve taken out the trash.”

Gnashing my teeth together, I imagine yanking her head back by her ponytail and then slamming her face into her plate–no, the table. It’s such a strong urge that I need to ball my hands up into fists at my sides so one doesn’t fly out to crush her. But Chiara takes my silence and lack of fight as submission, and she is haughty and smug.

Chiara knows exactly what she’s saying. When we throw around insults about vamps being able to take down one of us–especially a newbie vamp and a wolf in the upper ranks–it’s cause for a big-ass lecture from the Korma. But since Paxton is Chiara’s older brother, I doubt he’ll bat an eye at this. But me, on the other hand…

I have the appropriate reaction to this insult, not just against me but against every Korama here. I want to kill her now.

I suck in a small breath, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing will calm me down except for giving her what she deserves. But I’m already in so much hot water with my Korma and Kormi that I don’t want Chiara whining to her big brother that I kicked her ass–in front of a bunch of other Koramas.

“Verity! Did you get lost?”

Bodhi’s teasing call from behind the counter snaps me out of most of my anger. He has a great way of calming people down–maybe because a bunch of hotheads come here and work here, like me.

I turn and look over at him. I’m still too pissed to talk, so I just turn and eye Chiara evenly as I walk–no, stomp–away from her.

Is this how everyone in the Korama community views me–as some royal joke? The new Kormo can’t even take out the baby Vamp Prince without wimping out. They probably think I can’t fill Freddie’s shoes–and they’d be fucking right about that too.

Worse still, are they all thinking what Chiara is: that Paxton and Megsie promoted the wrong wolf? That it should have been Chiara instead?

Maybe I’m pissed off because I know they’re right.

If I ever see that vamp again, I’m gonna deliver his head to Paxton on a fucking silver platter!

Wait.

It’s not like I need to wait for the next full moon to whip his ass. I can always hunt him down in human form. He won’t be expecting it–and neither will the Vamp Queen or her dumb-ass minions. I still have his gray beanie, though I’d be able to pick out his gross-as-fuck scent anywhere.

That does it. After my shift tomorrow night, I’m going on a Vamp Prince Hunt. Chiara and the rest of them will have no choice but to shut up once I come back here with his sliced-off head as a prize for Paxton.

I slide behind the counter, trying to forget about how angry and ashamed I am while also attempting to avoid Bodhi’s gaze. I know he knows he was stopping a potential fight in his tavern. Maybe on top of a screw-up with the Cold Moon Pack, I’ll get fired too.

When I finally turn to look at Bodhi while washing my hands at the old sink toward the back of the tavern, his gray eyes are still on me.

“I know you’re in a bad way,” he begins, “but please don’t start a rumble in my tavern. The tourists, Veri,” he reminds me when my expression must have been either clueless or still annoyed.

Yeah. He has a point. We keep the humans out of all this. The last thing we want is for the heaps of tourists who frequent Vancouver to see two Koramas duking it out before lunchtime.

At least I’m not fired.

“Can I kill her after my shift?” I grumble.

Bodhi hears me and snickers. Even as an older Korama–sixty-eight years, with a ton of experience–his senses are still super sharp. He just doesn’t shift each month. It’s actually a toss-up as to whether or not he’ll turn. Last night was no different: according to Briony, he stayed up late watching a movie after supervising her shift.

“Just not in my tavern,” he warns me as he waves forward a new patron who looks lost. He hasn’t been in here before. He’s a tourist with a map in one hand and binoculars around his neck.

Huh. Not much sightseeing to be had today with the stormy weather. But whatever. Humans can be… Weird. And I won’t be able to escape them because I’m working the late shift tomorrow. Lots of human losers come here at night. I get decent tips, but man, they’re all useless.

Briony skips behind me–I can tell it’s her because I can smell her, and not many of us dance around when we’re working–and nudges my side with her hip.

“Want to get some coffee after work, Veri?” she asks, her long red ponytail swishing as she trots by, so full of this energy I never have.

“You had me at ‘coffee,’” I admit, causing her to grin back at me.

Maybe Briony wants to talk about something. Or maybe she wants to cheer me up. Either way, I’m there. Spending time with Briony is like taking in a ray of sunshine after a gloomy day. I don’t say this often enough, but she makes my life better.

“Hey, quit the chatter and get to work,” Bodhi throws over his shoulder at both of us. After a short pause of an angry stare, he bites down on a laugh and smiles at us before handing the sight-seeing dude his change.

Briony and I both laugh, and for a split second, I forget about my anger, the Vamp Prince, Chiara’s bitchiness, and my bad standing with my Korma and Kormi.

It’s only a moment, but it’s a nice one.

Maybe I should be honoured, thrilled, over the moon (whoops) that Paxton and Megsie chose me for this.

But in reality, I just wish they hadn’t. I don’t deserve this position in the Korama Nobility. And the price tag is just too high. It’s more trouble than it’s worth. I just want out.