Night’s Master (Children of The Night #3)(36)
Author: Amanda Ashley

I’d barely opened the shop when Edna and Pearl arrived. Today, they were wearing brightly colored turtleneck sweaters, jeans, fur-lined boots, and floppy hats. The dead man and the missing boy were all the two women could talk about.

Edna informed me that the dead man was Ezra Solomon, a thirty-year-old computer programmer who had stopped in Oak Hollow on his way to South Carolina. The teenager had been the oldest son of Jack and Alpha Cameron, who owned Oak Hollow’s only bed and breakfast. They had two other kids—a boy about twelve, and a girl a few years younger.

“How do you two know all this?” I asked, looking from Edna to Pearl and back again. As far as I knew, the names of the deceased hadn’t been released to the public yet.

Pearl and Edna exchanged that conspiratorial look that I was quickly becoming familiar with, and then they changed the subject.

I knew they weren’t Werewolves or Vampires, but what if they were witches, like Rafe’s grandmother? Like Werewolves and Vampires, witches were Supernatural creatures. For all I knew, Edna and Pearl met in the woods late at night and read deer entrails or something.

“I’d close up early tonight if I were you,” Edna said, dropping a load of books, mainly romantic suspense and sci-fi, on the counter.

“Oh? Why?”

“Let’s just say the streets won’t be safe after dark,” Pearl said. “When you see Raphael, you might suggest that he leave town for a while.”

I couldn’t help noticing she said “when” and not “if”.

“There’s a hunter in town,” Edna explained, lowering her voice. “His name is Travis Jackson. He’s from Amarillo, Texas, and he’s staying at the hotel.”

And with that bit of ominous information, Edna and Pearl gathered up their purchases and left the store.

Standing behind the counter, I looked out the window at the rain and wondered what other surprises the night would bring.

Chapter Seventeen

The night brought Travis Jackson and a flurry of raindrops into the store just as I was getting ready to close up. Of course, I didn’t know who he was at first, just a tall, good-looking man with short brown hair and dark, piercing eyes. In spite of the inclement weather, he wore a cream-colored shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of faded jeans, and scuffed brown boots. I guessed he was in his mid-thirties or thereabouts. He nodded at me as he passed the front counter and moved toward the murder mystery section.

I would have told him I was closing and asked him to leave, but hey, I couldn’t afford to turn away a customer.

He returned a few minutes later with a couple of paperbacks and swiped his credit card through the machine. Cash money rarely exchanged hands these days. In fact, it was getting to be a rare commodity, as were checks. Nearly every transaction was paid for by credit card. Businesses no longer wrote checks to their employees; instead, whatever amount was due was deposited in a personal bank account.

I rang up the sale, then asked to see his driver’s license.

I murmured, “Thank you, Mr. Jackson,” and then it hit me. He was the hunter from Texas. I stared at the silver cross that hung from a thick silver chain at his throat, and then glanced at the door, hoping Rafe wouldn’t show up.

Jackson followed my gaze then looked back at me. “Are you expecting someone?”

“What? Oh, no.” I dropped the books into a bag and placed the sack on the counter. “Please, come again.”

He smiled, revealing a dimple in one cheek. “I’m new in town,” he said. “I don’t suppose you’d consider going out to dinner with me? You know, sort of a gesture of goodwill from one of the town’s prettiest citizens.”

I should have moved to Oak Hollow sooner, I thought. I had only been here a short time and three men had already shown an interest in me. Of course, a Vampire and a Were-tiger weren’t men in the usual sense of the word. And this man, though handsome, repelled me, though I couldn’t say why.

“I can’t,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

He glanced at my left hand. “You’re not married or engaged, so I guess it must be me.”

“No, it’s not you,” I said quickly, but it was. There was something in his eyes I didn’t like. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I had the feeling he was hiding something dark and ugly.

“If it’s not me, then what is it?”

Persistent cuss,I thought. “I’m in a relationship.”

He leaned one hip against the counter. “Hmm, a one-on-one kind of thing, where you don’t date anyone else?”

“I’m afraid so.”

He made a tsking sound. “Just my luck.”

I had to smile at that.

“If your relationship goes south, I hope you’ll let me know.”

“Does that mean you’re here to stay?”

“Pretty much.”

I filed that bit of news away for Rafe. “What is it that you do?” I asked, wondering if he would tell me the truth.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I might never get you to go out with me, once you know my line of work.”

“I already know,” I said, and then bit down on my lower lip, thinking maybe I should have kept that bit of information to myself.

“I don’t believe you. How could you possibly know?”

“It’s hard to keep a secret in a small town. Didn’t you know that?”

His eyes narrowed. “So, what is it you think I do?”

I’d never been much of a liar, so I blurted the truth. “I think you’re a Vampire hunter.”

He swore a pithy oath. “How the hell did you find out?”

I was somewhat surprised that he admitted it. “Is it supposed to be hush-hush?”

“Not exactly. On the other hand, the fewer people who know, the better.”

Leaning forward, I whispered, “Don’t worry, your guilty secret is safe with me.”Well, pretty safe, I amended silently. “Do you just hunt Vampires?”

“And Werewolves,” he admitted, “and anything else that goes bump in the night. So, am I dead in the water?”

“No more than you were before,” I said. “How many Vampires and Werewolves have you killed?”

“All together, or just this year?”

I would have thought he was kidding except for the sudden tightening of his jaw muscles. This was interesting news, indeed. Rafe had told me there hadn’t been any Vampire hunters in the last twenty-five years. Apparently, he’d missed one. I wondered what else he might be mistaken about. “So, how many?”

“Thirty-six Vamps, eighteen Werewolves, and one Were-leopard.”