Page 3 of Immortal Hunter
Her boots clicked along the sidewalk as Kára headed to the docks. Fishing boats commonly rolled into port this time of night, and the men and women who’d spent weeks out on the open ocean usually ended up drunk. Some light sparring with humans pickled with the drink could help dispatch the lingering unease curling her stomach.
“Vampire.” The raspy voice from the shadows had her whirling around and drawing her blades.
Her enhanced vision picked out the old witch before she stepped forward. “Vesper. You do not usually leave the coven house. To what do I owe the honor?”
“One cannot commune with the elements without occasionally stepping foot in the sea.” Vesper lifted her robes to reveal her bare feet, sand still dusting her toes. “But when I saw you, a chill enveloped me. So I come with a warning. The peace in this town has lasted for a century, and if you disrupt it, the fires of Valhalla will seem like nothing compared to my wrath.”
“I helpkeepthe peace in St. John’s. Or have you forgotten?” Kára sheathed her knives and stood up a little straighter.
“I have not.” The witch pulled a crystal on a long silver chain from under her robes. “But the stones and the winds do not lie. Evil is coming. Be ready.”
Chapter Two
Ewan
Three daysafter he’d stumbled off the boat in St. John’s, he ducked his head into a small pub with aHelp Wantedsign in one of the windows.
“We’re not open yet,” a grizzled old man said as he wiped down the bar.
“I’m here about yer sign. I could use a job.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, bushy white brows drawing together. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, sir. Scotland, originally. By way of a lot of places.” Ewan approached the bar and held out his hand. “Ewan Blair.”
“Alfie McCann. Can you pour a decent pint?” Alfie gestured to the taps, and Ewan skirted the well-worn bar top, grabbed a glass, and wrapped his fingers around the Guinness handle. Angling the glass away from him, he filled it three quarters full, then set the glass down, watching it until the white foam settled along the top. The second pour was straight down, filling the glass and leaving a perfect creamy head.
“How’s this for ya’?” Ewan asked.
Alfie made a roughharrumphsound as he picked up the pint. After a long sip, he nodded. “Good enough. I’m warning you, though. The hours are terrible. We get nothin’ but fishermen—and some fisherwomen—and you’ll probably have to break up the occasional bar fight.”
“Been breakin’ up fights all me life, sir.” He needed this job. The few places he’d been brave enough to apply with over the past three days had refused to hire him without a full set of identification papers, which he’d never be able to get without more money. And some feckin’ luck.
“Twelve dollars an hour. You work from 5:00 p.m. to 3:00 a.m., plus any cleaning up that needs to be done after hours. Your dinner’s included.” Alfie cocked his head and nodded towards Ewan’s duffel bag. “This place used to be a boarding house, and there’s an empty room upstairs if you want it. Consider it a perk of the job.”
This seemed too good to be true. But even if it were, Ewan couldn’t turn it down. “Wh-what would ya’ need for me to start tonight?”
“A handshake.” Straightening up to his full height, which couldn’t have been more than five-foot-eight, Alfie held out his hand. “Many years ago now, I met a man unlike any I’ve ever known. He saved my life, and when I tried to thank him, he told me one day, someone would come to me needing help. A young man who didn’t belong here.”
Ewan stiffened, still staring at Alfie’s outstretched hand. “What was the bloke’s name, sir?”
“Merrick.”
Ewan’s every urge told him to flee. To leave St. John’s and never come back. But down to his last few dollars, he didn’t have much of a choice.
With a shiver, Ewan clasped Alfie’s knobby fingers. “Merrick was the one who sent me here, sir. To St. John’s.”
“Well, then I guess you’re hired. But you listen to me, young man. You screw up, and you’re out. No second chances. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
* * *
Ewan followedAlfie up a narrow set of stairs. “The room’s small, but the bed is new.” The older man slotted a key in a heavy lock and pushed open the door.
Light flooded the space from a single window framed by heavy black curtains. Small didn’t begin to describe it. The bed took up almost half the room, done up with a dark blue blanket and two pillows. But despite the size, it was cozy. Perfect for him. The dresser, attached bath, and nightstand were all he’d need.
“No phone. You want to make a call, you come downstairs,” Alfie said. “You can take your supper in the kitchen before your shift. Breakfast and lunch, you have to pay for. I’ll front you a week’s worth of wages after tonight.”
