Hunter of the Damned by Jennifer Martucci & Christopher Martucci

Author:Jennifer Martucci & Christopher Martucci [Martucci, Jennifer & Martucci, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-08-09T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

̴ Daniel ̴

Sunlight filters in through the windows of Luke’s car, bathing me in brilliant, buttery light. I awaken to it, my eyes opening slowly to a glow so blinding they water. I don’t know where we are or how long I’ve been sleeping. All I do know is that prior to this nap I’m waking from, it’s been days since I had any sleep at all. The last memory I have is of tipping my chin and leaning my head against the headrest of the back seat and feeling complete exhaustion claim me. I closed my eyes and felt as if I were being rocked, the movement of the car conspiring with fatigue, and enveloped me in a dark embrace. Every muscle yielded. Every cell in my body surrendered to sleep. And now, I wake to a flood of light pouring over every inch of me, warming me and disorienting me simultaneously.

Yawning, I attempt to move. My entire body aches. “What time is it?” I ask.

“Four thirty,” Luke answers without taking his eyes off the road.

Squinting, I lean forward and look out the driver’s side window and scrunch my features. “It’s way too bright for four thirty in the morning.” My gaze shifts from the window to the windshield where I catch sight of Luke regarding me curiously in the rearview mirror. One brow is raised high while the other one is a thick slash. “What?” I can’t help but ask.

“It’s four thirty in the afternoon, genius,” Scarlett says without masking the exasperation in her tone, and though I don’t see it, I swear I can hear her roll her eyes by the way she blows out a huffy breath.

“I slept for twelve hours?” I ask incredulously. The thought of sleeping in a bed for twelve hours seems hard to believe. The idea of sleeping in the cramped back seat of a sports car for twelve hours seems preposterous. Yet I managed to do so.

Scarlett turns in her seat, her lips parted to say something I assume will be snarky. Her expression is marked by aggravation: lips thin, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. But as soon as our gazes clash she inhales and her head rears so subtly most would miss it. But I don’t. The annoyance leaks from her. “You needed it,” she says. Her voice is soft, devoid of frustration or sarcasm. For a second, I’m lost in her eyes, in the color of them warmer and richer than a sunset. I have to shake my head slightly to clear my thoughts.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“We’re just about there,” Luke replies absently.

“Ok, but where’s there?” I want to ask if he’s kidding me at this point, then I promptly remember when I led us to the abandoned warehouse.

“You’ll see,” Luke responds without glancing back at me.

“What’s going on anyway? Why can they sense us? Why are they hunting us now?” The questions fire from me, peppering from my mouth like automatic weapon fire ahead of my brain.

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