Hunter's Blood Read online

  Hunter’s Blood

  Book One of the Hunter Series

  By R. Sullins

  Contents

  Hunter’s Blood

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Sneak peak of Book 2 in the Hunter series Hunter’s Promise

  Copyright © 2019 by Renee Sullins

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without explicit permission granted in writing from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction intended for adult audiences only. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Dedication

  I want to thank every single person that buys and reads my story.

  I have been writing since I was a teenager but I have been too worried about acceptance - is anyone going to read my work? Are they going to like it? Are they going to hate it?

  It took me far too long to finally be at a place where determination overcame nerves.

  This is the first book I am publishing and to say I am terrified is a complete understatement. But here I go on this new chapter in life. A published author! Who would have thought?

  Thank you to my husband who has always supported me in all my pursuits.

  Thank you to my beautiful daughter for being my sounding board and for being truly interested in what I come up with in my crazy mind.

  For my fellow authors for your continued support.

  Chapter 1

  I held my timecard in the slot of the rusted, dark gray machine, waiting for the sound of the time punch. Another 8 hours at the diner down, 50 more years of my life to go. Sighing, I placed my card back into the designated spot and swung the faded linen of my purse strap over my head before picking up my sweater. I noticed it had a hole in the sleeve earlier that morning and made another mental note as I noticed it now, to repair it soon. I waved to Pam as she came in for the start of her shift as I walked out the back door. I paused to take my first deep breath of the day.

  The air was cool and crisp, the sky was still light out with a few fluffy clouds. Evenings in April in the northeast tended to be pretty chilly sometimes. No bother for me though, the fresh, cool air was nice on my skin. I was able to handle temperature extremes better than most. Just one of those things that made me weirder than just about anybody. I walked the mile home, wanting to drag my feet but at the same time, eager to get there so I could grab my running shoes and go right back out.

  The tiny 2-bedroom house that I was renting for my sister and I appeared once I turned the last corner. The chipped paint attesting to the age of the small place that I liked to refer to as a cottage. It made the smallness seem quaint instead of cramped or just plain too small. Now was the time I definitely started to drag my feet. It was always the same, every day. My heart grew heavy before I even turned the doorknob. The crash from inside made me pause and breathe deeply a couple of times before finally pushing the door open.

  “Get that slop away from me!”

  The sound of my sister’s screaming at her caregiver, unfortunately, was not an isolated event. It was, in fact, a completely commonplace thing to hear in our little home. Her caregiver, Sandy, was a saint as far as I was concerned. She had been in our lives ever since the night of the accident. She was in the hospital working and was the assigned nurse for my sister when she was brought in. Sandy also happened to be a licensed foster parent. So after the months she spent getting to know my sister in the hospital, and me when the group home I was temporarily living in let me visit, she requested to keep us in her home.

  She quit her job as a nurse and stayed home with us, taking care of my sister’s needs, getting much less pay from the state as a licensed caregiver and foster home then she had made as a nurse. She told me several times that she never regretted her decision. She loved us as if we were her own children. Even with the abuse she had to suffer through on a constant basis.

  I hung my sweater and purse over the back of one of the secondhand kitchen chairs I had picked up at a thrift shop when we first got the house. I went over to the sink and, after getting a plastic tumbler out of the dish drainer, filled the glass from the faucet and drank deep while listening to the soft voice of Sandy coaxing Iris to eat some of her… I looked over at the stove – yep, chicken noodle soup. I’m sure she’s upset about the carrots or possibly the peas. Maybe both. We have to get her to eat vegetables somehow. It was so difficult to get a full meal into my sister. We had to make every bite count. Make every meal nutritious.

  “I said NO! I don’t want any of that garbage, it tastes like you made it with toilet water! And you know I hate peas. Are you trying to kill me?” Yesterday it was mop water that we were accused of trying to kill her with. Apparently, she could smell bleach over the taste of broccoli and cheese soup. I rubbed my forehead. Could I do this for another 50 years? Did I have a choice? I loved my sister, I really do, I promise I do. But a woman can only bend so far before she breaks. It’s time for another run.

  Sandy walked out of my sister’s room and gave me a small smile on her lightly lined face before dumping the half-eaten soup down the drain and washing the bowl in the sink. See? Saint. It wasn’t technically in Sandy’s job description to wash the dishes even though she was responsible for the health and welfare of her patient – which included cooking, feeding, and cleaning up after Iris. But I supposed after caring for Iris and myself for the last 6 years it was instinctual.

  Once done, she turned to me and gave me the critical eye. I knew what she was going to say before it even came out of her mouth. Which was why she kept it closed in a tight line and narrowed her eyes at me just a bit. I shook my head slightly, letting her know I understood what she was thinking but I couldn’t help it. Life’s circumstances for me were what they were. I couldn’t do much to change them. I knew what she saw. I was tired. Always tired. Taking care of your paraplegic sister and working 8-12 hours daily would do that to anyone.

  I started working at the diner shortly after my sister and I were released from the city’s child welfare system and left Sandy’s home despite her objection. I couldn’t continue to take advantage of her hospitality. She had such a big heart but it would have been too much. If I hadn’t taken responsibility for Iris she would have been placed in a city-run long term health care home or become a burden that Sandy would have gladly accepted and placed so much guilt on me that I don’t think I would have been able to function properly. She would have been a number, not a face. I may not be able to do much for my sister but she gets one on one care and two people that make sure she is as happy as she will let us make her.

  I had been taking responsibility for my sister since we were both 15. The accident that killed our father, and caused my sister to have a damaged spine, I walked
away from. What minor – or major - injuries I sustained were healed within hours and needed no care. Our mother disappeared that day. Iris didn’t know how or why and that was something I didn’t plan to tell her. Because I was the only one conscious in the car that day. Only I know what she said before she left, never to be seen from again. I will never tell Iris. It’s bad enough that Iris lost her will to live that day and learned how to hate life.

  “How was she today, Sandy?” I smiled at her wearily, afraid to hear the answer.

  Sandy smiled sweetly at me. “I got her to let me stretch her legs for a few minutes and she ate half of her breakfast and you saw she ate some of her dinner. When I changed her urine bag today it looked fine, no problems there. I took her outside for a little while and, though she wouldn’t admit it, I think she enjoyed the fresh air.” She reached over and squeezed my shoulder gently. “She’s doing ok, Ivy, you are doing fine by her, don’t worry so much. I know you love your sister but you’ve got to let yourself live a little too. She’s not the only one that lost a lot in that crash.”

  I blinked back the moisture in my eyes. I knew that the crash was not my fault, just like I knew that me walking and not her was not my fault. But still… “Thank you, Sandy, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come into our lives. Really, thank you.”

  “You can thank me by living a little, Ivy. You can leave her alone for a few hours longer than it takes you to run a few miles. You can go out on a date, I know you’ve been asked.” Her grin and wink had me feeling awkward.

  “How do you know I’ve been asked?” I turned away awkwardly and busied myself by washing my glass and putting it into the drainer and then started putting away the dry dishes. I was sure she must have heard that Tommy Beechum had been asking about me. It was a small town after all. Tommy was nice looking, seemed like a nice guy. Could I go out with him on a date? Did I want to? I have never been on a date.

  When the accident happened, I was so young. At 15 I was a cheerleader and enjoyed the attention I got from guys. I kissed a few and even let Kenneth Young feel me up after a football game once. After the accident, life seemed to stop. Or at least the fun side to life. After that, it was guilt, anger, and caring for my sister that took over my life. I no longer had the dream of getting asked to the senior prom and maybe going all the way with Kenneth, even if I heard that he was bragging about feeling up my tits on the back of the bus to the other football players.

  I didn’t go to school with Tommy. He went to school here in the small town while Iris and I went to a school in the larger city on the other side of the mountain that overlooked our town. Now he’s an accountant for one of the local businesses. Or two. I honestly had no idea since I didn’t pay that much attention to him other than asking for his order and if he’d like another refill. But I was not so blind that I didn’t see the looks, the stares, or the compliments he gave. I had to admit it felt nice to have an admirer. But I just didn’t have time for one. Or, I guess, cared enough about this one, in particular, to give him time? Plus, I’d heard I wasn’t the only girl he’d been after.

  Sandy laughed softly. “Sweetheart, you know already. Tommy Beechum isn’t the only man to show interest in you. You don’t have to love the man to enjoy a night out every once in awhile, you know.” She nudged my arm and laughed again. “You just need to let yourself off the chain. Please, do it for yourself.”

  I turned back around and looked at her serious face. The concern was there but so was the love. She was like a big sister and a mother rolled into one. I couldn’t help but hug her tightly for a moment. I whispered thank you in her ear. She’d know I was thanking her more for her show of concern than her actual advice. She shrugged and turned to grab her purse and jacket by the front door. “One of these days…” she laughed again and waved before heading out the door. Yep, one of these days. If only I could get past the guilt. I looked over towards Iris’ bedroom door and knew that it wasn’t likely.

  Chapter 2

  Before going in to see Iris I went into the bathroom to splash some water on my face. I smelled like grease from being in the diner all day but I wouldn’t take a shower until after I had my run. I would just get sweaty and dirty again. I changed quickly into my running gear of tight lycra capris and tank with built-in bra. My boobs weren’t big enough to give me problems, they usually stayed put pretty well with just the tight tank. I headed back into the bathroom to brush out my long brown hair and fix it into a tight ponytail. I took a minute to study my reflection. The bags under my eyes were obvious but not too bad. Though they definitely made my blue eyes look bright and overly large in my pale face. I looked fragile and I hated it. I flipped off the light while I still stood there. Staring at myself in the darkness. I didn’t want to be a damaged, fragile girl.

  Taking a deep breath to shore myself up I finally opened my sister’s door. The tv was on and she had her old laptop. It was the same one that our parents gave her for our 15th birthday. I have the same one. I know it’s old but there’s no way I could afford to buy her a new one right now. Another wave of guilt washed over me.

  I pushed the door further open and walked over to her bedside. Her room was similar to mine, a double size bed, one night stand, one dresser all light brown. The bedroom sets were on sale at the furniture store in town and I was lucky to be able to pick them up when I did. The walls were white like most rentals and the floors were all wood, which came in handy with all the spills that happen when Iris got mad. We both had few belongings that we displayed, other than the picture of our family together on our nightstands.

  She was on some website chatting with someone. I honestly had no idea where she goes online or who she talks to. She didn’t ever share that with me. I imagined she had created an entire life for herself on that laptop. A life that didn’t include having all her personal needs met by another person and not being able to do much for herself. Sandy had told me many times that Iris is capable of going out of the house, even getting a job. That many people with physical disabilities like hers can function as a capable adult. But Iris rarely leaves her bed or her room. She has never gotten over the accident or the fact that she lost all function below the waist and me, well, I haven’t either.

  “I’m going to leave for my run, is there anything I can get you before I go?”

  She just waved her hand dismissively towards the door. I sighed inwardly, this was not new either. I usually receive the silent treatment. She didn’t seem to understand that I can’t provide her with more to make her life better. Even with my hours and tips her disability, the cost of her medicine and caregiver, leaves us with just enough to get by most months. I will forever be thankful that my father’s life insurance paid the medical bills after the accident or I could imagine what it would be like for us. I leaned over to kiss her cheek but she leaned away from me. Okay then. I brushed back a strand of her hair, the same hair as mine, except hers seemed so dull. Seeing her gaunt cheeks and lifeless hair made my heart clench in pain.

  “I’ll be back. Use your cell phone to call me if you need me sooner or call Sandy. If it’s an emergency call 911.” She just rolled her eyes. Yes, this was the same thing I say every time I leave the house. I can’t help but worry about leaving her all alone. I knew, realistically, if she had to she could get into her wheelchair and get out of the house but she was also limited and in a real emergency she could become trapped. So many things could go wrong. This…this was what Sandy is always telling me about. I had to let go a little and try not to worry about what-ifs.

  I quickly made my escape to the front door and took the single key I have for this purpose and locked the door, tucking the key in my little pocket on my running pants. A few quick stretches and I was off. I ran the half-mile towards the rather nice park. It had several great running trails that backed up towards the forest and river that ran to the south of our little town. I had been running those trails for years now and knew them very well. But I never left the trails, always worrie
d and anxious to get back home to Iris.

  Once I got to the park I chose the running trail that was the longest. It was only 4 miles but it went the furthest into the forest. Sometimes, on a really bad day, I would run 2 circuits. Most times I would run one of the shorter ones and maybe a longer one together, but I always ran at least 4 miles a day. It helped clear my mind. While running I was free, free from guilt, free from ghosts of my mother and the pain of seeing my father die. I never ran with music. I enjoyed the sounds of nature and just let my thoughts drift instead of focusing on words.

  Halfway through the path, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I took a look around but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The sun had gone down but there were lights all along the path so it was clearly lit. I had never, not once, been scared while running here. I shrugged off the feeling and continued on my way. I always kept pepper spray hooked to my pants and was pretty good with self-defense. Our mother taught us herself. I mentally slapped myself for thinking about HER.

  I had just reached the part of the path that was deepest into the woods when something white streaked by quickly out of the corner of my eye. It brought to mind a vague memory that I did not want to remember at all. Another streak of white on the other side of me. What the hell? I swung my head from side to side, not seeing anything out of the ordinary at all. Then I heard a shriek. It sounded like a wild animal but nothing I had ever heard before. And then there, next to a tree I saw a creature so hideous I stumbled and fell to my knees. I didn’t feel the pain of the fall, I didn’t see the scratches on my palms or the blood. My eyes never left the creature.

  It looked human-ish. It stood on two legs, had a human-like body but had no hair. Its eyes were glowing red. And its mouth… its mouth was open with black goo dripping out of the corners. its nose was more like two slits than nostrils. Almost like a human nose that shriveled up. The ears were the same, shriveled. its private area, well, it might have been a male at one point, that too was shriveled. In fact, the whole of the body was as if it was severely dehydrated. I was looking at something I had never seen or even dreamed of seeing. It was a real-life nightmare. And it was coming towards me. It was sniffing the air like a dog would. I guessed, just because its nose was a shriveled mess didn’t mean it wasn’t functional.