“Of course he did, he’s a hunter, it’s what they do. They hunt, they kill. It’s in their nature.”
I shook my head. “Hunters are human, so that’s a bunch of bullshit that the books say to try and make it seem better or something. He could do it differently, but he doesn’t want to. It’s a choice.”
“It’s also the way they’re trained from birth. They’re trained to hunt to kill.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
“Didn’t say it did.” He sent me a gentle smile. “Why are you so worried about this hunter, Bas?”
I shrugged. “He keeps getting in my way and saying ignorant shit because I’m a witch. He’s got a vendetta against witches, and he uses a crossbow.”
Realization flickered through Jorah’s eyes. “You think he’s the witch killer?”
“I think there’s a possibility, yeah. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was.” I didn’t want to believe Grim was the one murdering witches, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t. He fit the, albeit vague, profile, so he could be the murderer.
I cringed as my chest tightened at the thought. What if Grim was the murderer? If he was, he’d be executed.
Another sharp pang shot through my chest, and I gasped as I pressed my hand over the pain. Holy fuck. If he was the murderer, he’d be killed.
My chest tightened further at the thought, making it hard to breathe.
“Bas?” Jorah asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”
I shook my head. Why did the thought of Grim being killed hurt so badly?
I let Jorah lead me into my house and plop me on the couch. He kneeled in front of me with a worried expression and asked, “Why does your chest feel so tight?”
I shook my head, and the worry on his face grew.
After hesitating, he gently asked, “Basil, is this about Rebe?” I blinked at that, but he kept going. “I know it must be hard seeing them do the mating ceremony with that fae, but you told me yourself that Rebe isn’t your viramore and that you want them to be happy. I’m really sorry you’re still hurting over them.” He pulled me into a hug, and I let him because I was a little shocked by his words.
Rebe was a kelpie I’d been with for over a year when we’d lived in Faela, the land of the fae. I hadn’t wanted a commitment, and they had, so we’d stopped seeing each other, but that had been years ago. It was true that the last time we were in Faela, we’d gone to the mating ceremony for Rebe and a fae, and admittedly, it had hurt to be there because I still cared about the kelpie. But that wasn’t what this was. It wasn’t surprising that was where Jorah’s head went though, not after I’d been so distraught over Rebe when we’d broken up.
I sighed and said, “I’m fine, Jor. I just need some sleep.”
He leaned back. “Do you want me to stay?”
I shook my head. “No, I’m good.” He could tell I wanted to be alone without me having to say the words.
He nodded and squeezed my shoulder. “I’m right next door if you need me.”
“Thanks, Jor.”
He smiled before walking out the front door. His house was right beside mine—between mine and Thayer’s—so he literally was next door and only a few feet away.
I made my way up the stairs, got ready for bed, and climbed under my covers before everything Jorah had said hit me. He’d said that I knew Rebe wasn’t my viramore… but why would he even bring that up? Of course Rebe wasn’t my viramore, we all knew it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to not be with them anymore, but…
And then it hit me.
He’d said it because I’d been holding my chest and hurting. Because that was how it was described in all the books. When you found your viramore, if you separated from them or saw them in pain, it supposedly made your chest tight and caused physical pain. Like you were stabbing yourself in the heart, one of the books said.
Had I seriously been behaving that way?
I thought about it. I mean, yeah, I guess. But why? Why would my chest be tight like that and hurting when all I was thinking about was Grim being the witch killer?
Grim being executed.
Pain laced my heart again, making me gasp out.
Oh.
Oh shit.
No. That… that couldn’t be right.
I cringed and pushed the feelings away because what the hell? Grim? Ha! I don’t think so. Asshole. Just… no way. No fucking way.
Chapter Four
Basil
“Again? Seriously, Basil, what the hell’s your problem?” Alec roared loud enough I had no doubt the entire station heard. “First it was the vampire, then the basilisk, then the group of kobolds, the king of the gnomes or whatever the hell he was, then the orc, then the satyr, let’s not forget the fucking satyr catastrophe—” I wished I could forget the satyr catastrophe, I still had nightmares about that one “—then the mind-bender—” he forgot the wendigo, but I wasn’t about to remind him about that horror “—and now you couldn’t even catch a cat shifter!”
“It’s not my fault.” As excuses went, it was a horrible one.
“Not your fault? It hasn’t been your fault for two months! Two fucking months I’ve been dealing with your bullshit excuses. You need to get over this fucking rival bullshit you got going on with that damn hunter—the one that no one else has ever even seen! I’m starting to wonder if this hunter of yours even exists or if you’re just using this as some kind of crazy ploy to make me insane.”
I blinked at my brother-in-law and stifled a sigh, then I crossed my arms over my chest and sent him a glare because he was being a total asshole. “He exists.”
Alec waved that away. “I don’t give a shit if he’s real or a figment of your imagination. I only care that whatever or whoever he is, he’s messing with your fucking cases.”
“I told you that I don’t know how he keeps ending up with the same marks as me.”
“Marks? Now you’re even speaking like them.”
I waved that away. “Perps. Whatever. You know what I mean.”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what to do with you.”
“Put me on the witch case.”
He laughed out humorlessly. “You think that after only closing half your normal amount of cases over the past two months that I’m going to put you on a case as important as that one? There’s a serial killer on the loose. I can’t have you running around half-cocked like an asshole with a fucking hunter on your tail. You’re a witch, you could be a target. And this is a high-profile case after the media got word of a serial killer. They’ve been on me for weeks.” In defense of his assholeishness, that was true. There’d been eight witches killed in a little over two months, and now that the public knew about it, they were demanding results. Which was why he needed me on that case.
“That’s why you need me on it.”
He sat down, sighed, and shook his head. “Not a chance, Basil. Not when you have this… this hunter problem going on.”