Then, finally, the door clicked open. I remained where I was, nostrils flaring, trying to catch any scent that would indicate that either Jorn or Yohan was close. There was nothing. Just the freshness of dawn.
I stepped out of my cell, the concrete cold under my bare feet as I looked at the ceiling. No cameras. Nothing to tell them I was on the move. What would happen if I waited here? The barn might not be the best fighting arena, but there were plenty of shadows to hide within. How would they know just where I was?
Unless, of course, there was a sensor at the red gate he'd told me to go through.
I blew out a frustrated breath, then walked forward. I couldn't afford to risk Rhoan's life on what-ifs, If Jorn and Yohan wanted a hunt, a hunt they would get. And this hunter fully intended to see the tables turned.
Hints of red and gold touched the predawn sky, and the air was crisp, holding the scents of eucalyptus and sea. I padded along the edge of the path, keeping to the shadows, ears attuned to the growing hum of the day, listening for any sound that was out of tune. There was still nothing to indicate either man was watching. Maybe they were intending a fair hunt.
And maybe tomorrow I'd become human.
Yohan and Jorn might want a good hunt, but in the end, they also wanted - needed - to win. Which meant, if it got down to the nitty-gritty, fairness would go out the window.
The red gate came into view. It was a big, wooden affair that merged into the surrounding ferns and was stained almost black. The gated opened as I neared, meaning someone was watching, even if I couldn't see them. Maybe the whole island was dotted with cameras.
I walked through, realizing as I did that the gates weren't actually black, but a very dark, reddish color. A dark red that smelled of death.
Blood stained that wood, not paint.
A shudder went through me, which was probably the precise reaction they were after. It had to be a tactic to unnerve their targets, to make them think about what might happen. After all, not everyone was like Rhoan and me, and used to the scent of death.
I headed into the shadows of the nearby forest. The trees and ferns closed in, surrounding me with shadows. I pulled them closer, hiding my form, and followed the rise of the land. I needed to get up higher and see just what was around me. Maybe even get some idea of where the buildings were, and where Rhoan might be.
I ran up the steep slope, trying to slip past the heavy fern fronds without breaking them, keeping to firmer ground so my footsteps weren't as visible - a difficult task when the ground was so covered by leaves and other forest rubbish.
Sweat began to trickle down my spine and my leg started to ache. Too much more and I'd probably begin to limp. Not what I needed right now. I blew out a breath and struggled on, only to slip on a bit of rotten leaf matter and come down hard on my knees.
And noticed then, as I was biting back a yelp of pain, that the cheery songs of the birds had suddenly silenced.
Felt the sting of silver fly over the top of my head and punch a hole in the tree trunk three feet ahead.
Ten-minute head start my ass.
Though why I had been stupid enough to believe it was anyone's guess. I mean, it wasn't like I was unfamiliar with bad men making promises they never intended to keep. Swearing softly, I swung around and sucked in the air, trying to scent my pursuers.
Nothing.
No giveaway aromas, no sound. The forest was deathly quiet and very still, yet an odd sort of tension seemed to run through the trees.
Human tension. The sort of tension that came with excitement and danger.
I might not be able to see or smell them, but something within me could feel them. Or rather, feel what they were feeling. Which normally would have pissed me off, simply because I shouldn't have been able to feel such a thing. But right now - and for the first time in my life - I was actually thankful that the drugs were producing a talent that was immediately useful.
They were down the hill and to my left. Not close, but obviously close enough to use a rifle sight. Which they were probably using right now to get another fix on me. Maybe the shadows weren't as deep or as thick as I'd presumed, and the gathering light was enough to break my cover.
Either way, I couldn't stay here. I scrambled upright and pushed through the ferns, keeping low as I ran, not worrying about leaving a trail for them to follow. It was better to simply get some distance between us again.
Fronds and branches whipped across my body as I ran, making me wish I had a sweater on. Preferably a dark one. But I was stuck with a bright yellow tank top, which meant that I might as well stand still and wave a target in the middle of all this lush greenery.
Which had me wondering again just where this island was situated. We couldn't be along the coast anywhere near my home state. Victorian islands were more scrubby than lush, and it certainly would have been a whole lot colder at this early hour of the day.
I continued to scramble upward. The smell of my sweat stained the air, and my lungs were beginning to burn, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps that echoed across the silence.
Easy enough to track, if the twins had good hearing.
And they obviously did, because they were still behind me, still chasing. I might have vampire speed, but in this environment it was damn hard to use it. And every now and again I felt the quiver of silver approaching, heard the ping of a bullet off a nearby tree trunk.
The crest of the hill finally came into sight. The trees didn't thin out, however, remaining as thick at the top as they'd been on the slope. I paused, reaching for that sense that allowed me to "feel" them. One was heading to my left, the other to the right. They were still below me but not climbing any farther just yet.