On the Hunt

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Prologue

It was no surprise that the history of the high-bloods had been lost in the midst of time.

Although they’d been worshipped as gods in ancient times, their powers had eventually caused an overwhelming fear and envy among the humans. They went from being revered to being hunted as if they were dangerous beasts.

In an attempt to save their people, they’d gone into hiding.

For centuries they remained in the shadows, still using their powers, but keeping them secret from the world.

Then, with a slow caution, they began to band together, creating communities where they could help to defend one another. Witches, necromancers, healers, psychics, clairvoyants, and a dozen other types of high-bloods all living together.

The largest of the communities was Valhalla, a sprawling compound in the Midwest that was protected by a dome of impenetrable magic. It was also defended by Sentinels, the monk-trained warriors who were defenders of the high-bloods.

The Sentinels were divided into two groups.

Those warriors born with magic who were chosen to be the personal guards to the high-bloods. They were marked with tattoos that protected them from magic or any attempt to manipulate their minds.

Then there were the hunters. Although they didn’t have magic they were faster, stronger, and far more lethal than a mere human. And without the distinctive tattoos of their brothers, they were able to move through the world without attracting attention.

They were the enforcement for their people. They tracked down renegades and those high-bloods who were a danger to themselves or others.

No one, no matter how powerful they might be, wanted to attract the attention of a hunter.

There was no place you could hide....

Chapter One

The location of Valhalla, the main home of the high-bloods, wasn’t a secret.

Even with a magical dome of protection, it was tough to hide several thousand acres of land smack dab in the middle of the United States with two-dozen structures that included living quarters, workshops, garages, barns, and a school.

Of course, very few norms were allowed through the magical barriers to visit the central building that was constructed in the shape of a pentagon with an inner courtyard that was famed for its gardens. And those who were permitted to enter found themselves confined to the upper floor that was reserved for official offices and formal reception rooms, plus a small number of guest rooms if the visitors were expected to stay more than a few hours.

Only high-bloods were allowed into the nine lower levels that contained private quarters and secret labs that were dug deep into the earth.

And only Sentinels were allowed on the bottom floor that was reserved exclusively for their use.

With a central room that was dominated by a state-of-the-art computer system and heavy wooden furniture, it looked like something out of a James Bond movie.

Two walls were lined with monitors that were connected to dozens of satellites and surveillance equipment spread throughout the world. On another wall were several doors that were closed and monitored with motion and heat sensors. The weapons that they kept inside were not only lethal, but many were magically enhanced to create enormous damage.

Standing in the attached private office, the two Sentinels stood face-to-face.

At a distance, the warriors were remarkably similar.

Both had long, dark hair that framed narrow faces with copper-toned skin and eyes as black as polished ebony. Both had the lean, chiseled muscles of trained warriors. And both were wearing casual jeans and T-shirts that did nothing to disguise their lethal power.

A closer glance, however, revealed that Wolfe, the leader of the Sentinels, had a streak of white in his hair at his right temple and that his features had been hewn in the deserts of the Middle East.

Mika Tanner, on the other hand, shared the chiseled features of his Native American ancestors.

Over the years, his stark beauty had attracted the notice of women. A lot of women. But none had managed to capture his aloof attention.

Of course, his lack of interest only made them more determined to be the one to claim him.

Not that Mika noticed.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like women.

Hell, that was the problem.

In one spectacular case he’d loved a woman.

Deeply and irrevocably.

Now he was dedicated to his duty as a hunter Sentinel. Nothing was allowed to distract him.

Which was why he’d abruptly walked away from the pretty witch who’d been trying to convince him to join her for dinner the second the text from Wolfe had hit his phone.

Folding his arms over his chest, he studied Wolfe with a stoic curiosity.

You wanted to see me?

Here. Getting straight to the point, Wolfe shoved a file folder into Mika’s hand. The Tagos (leader of the Sentinels) was never big on chitchat.

Thank God.

Mika hated wasting his time with worthless small talk.

Opening the file, he stared down at the photo of a young man who looked to be in his early twenties with short brown hair and a face that was remarkable only for the fact it was so completely average. The type of face that would never stand out in a crowd.

He read the name at the bottom of the photo.

Jacob Benson. Is the name supposed to mean something to me?

Until yesterday morning, he was an acolyte at the monastery in Louisiana, Wolfe readily answered.

Mika lifted his gaze, not surprised to find that Wolfe’s expression was unreadable.

The older man rarely gave away his inner thoughts.

And now?

He’s disappeared.

Mika arched a brow, waiting for the rest of the story.

Even for Wolfe, that was vague.

What happened? he prompted.

The leader shrugged. According to Brother Noland, the young man was a quiet, diligent student who’d never caused trouble until he unexpectedly snuck into the garage and stole one of the cars used by the monks.

All Sentinels were trained by the monks, whether they were to become guardians or hunters. It was a tradition that had started in ancient times.

And while a few of the methods had changed to include the latest weapons and technology, the basics had remained the same throughout the centuries.

How to kill as swiftly and efficiently as possible.

It’s not that uncommon for an acolyte to decide to go for a joyride, Mika pointed out.

Boys would be boys regardless of their special powers.

And since Sentinels lived several hundred years, they were still considered juveniles until they reached their late thirties.

On his way out of the garage he hit one of the monks, Wolfe said.

Shit. Mika scowled. How bad?

He’s on the mend, but Jacob never stopped or even slowed to check on the man he’d injured. Wolfe leaned against the corner of the desk. His complete lack of concern is so out of character that the monks are certain something is wrong.

And no one has seen him since then?

No, they checked with his family and friends, but he hasn’t contacted any of them.

Mika understood their concern if the acolyte was acting out of character, but there were a number of fairly obvious explanations for his impulsive behavior.

What about a girlfriend? He named the obvious. When a young man is doing something idiotic, it can usually be traced to his belief that he’s in love.

Wolfe sent him a wry smile. You sound as if you have personal experience.

A familiar ache twisted his gut at the memory of a young girl with white-gold curls and huge green eyes set in a heart-shaped face.

Bailey Morrell was a healer who’d stolen his heart when her parents had traveled to the reservation in Oklahoma to teach.

Odd, really.

The two couldn’t have been more different.

Where Mika was quiet and reserved, Bailey had possessed an infectious spirit and a joy for life that instantly captivated him. She’d been like a brilliant butterfly who’d fluttered into his life, dazzling him with her charm and generous heart.

Of course, it was those same qualities that had ripped them apart.

While Mika had gone to the monastery to be trained as a Sentinel, Bailey had traveled to Valhalla to hone her skills as a healer.

He’d thrived among the other warriors, perhaps for the first time in his life feeling as if he truly belonged. There was no need to disguise his superior powers or to feel as if he was a freak. The Sentinels became his family.

Bailey, on the other hand, had felt stifled by the rules demanded by her trainers. She’d inherited her parents’ disdain for authority and constantly rebelled by sneaking away to heal those high-bloods who were afraid to travel to Valhalla or were hiding from the authorities.

Bailey’s strays became a constant source of irritation to her teachers as well as the Mave, the powerful witch who was the ultimate ruler of Valhalla.

By the time Mika felt in the position to turn their passionate love affair into a more permanent arrangement, Bailey had reached the end of her patience.

Instead of putting down roots at Valhalla, the beautiful healer wanted him to turn his back on his duty to follow her into a life of constant travel and uncertainty.

Bailey might call it freedom, but he couldn’t walk away from the brothers who depended on him. Or the pledges he’d made to the monks.

So she’d left.

Without even saying good-bye.

Abruptly realizing that Wolfe was watching him with a knowing gaze, Mika cleared the lump from his throat.

Don’t we all have a past? he demanded.

Touché. Wolfe’s expression hardened, as if he had his own painful memories. What happened to yours?

Mika grimaced. She refused to be caged.

I have no information on a girlfriend. Wolfe abruptly turned the conversation back to the reason he’d called Mika to his office. But that might be an angle for you to investigate.

Me?

I want you to track him.

Why? Mika frowned. Without false modesty he