CHAPTER 5
AVA
Ava Morales let her head fall back into the bath pillow, and she let all her tension slip into the almost-scalding soapy water. There was nothing quite so nice as relaxing in a post-hunt bubble bath, especially after canvassing the damn old railways for hours searching for an outlet.
The sky was lightening when she returned to her apartment, but hunters tended to have strange hours. Shifters employed the darkness of night to conceal their atrocities, at least the ones who hadn't lost complete control of their inner beast did.
She sent Father Augustine a picture of the playing card, then shut the blackout drapes in her bathroom and turned on the taps. Apart from the chase and subsequent hike out of the abandoned railways, the hunt was fine. She did not follow any blood, hers or her victim's, into her apartment. Luckily, he was a bad shot.
She closed her eyes and let herself relax, enjoying the quiet—what there was of it in the city. There were the openings and closings of car doors outside, the sounds of engines and people taking advantage of the early morning sunlight.
Under ordinary circumstances, she enjoyed the cacophony of city sounds. She had called the city home for ten years, and she'd gotten used to tuning in and out the background sounds. Today, however, it irritated her. Every unusual sound that came from outside sounded that much louder.
They likely did. Her quarry roamed at night and was typically dealt with long before the sun rose. If the bastard hadn't fled, she'd be fast asleep now, unaware of the pre-rush-hour cacophony of the city that never slept. He more than deserved his death already.
Maybe she should put on some music. The moment she thought of it, her mind went to one place she did not want it to go—Ethan Blackwood. His cabin had walls of jazz on vinyl. Not her taste, exactly, but she enjoyed the album he put on after they…
Dammit, Ava. He's a shifter, a monster. Whether he kept his inner monster in better check than any shifter she'd ever tracked, the monster would eventually break free. She shouldn't fantasize like a moon-eyed teenager about a monster like the man who'd killed her parents.
Unbidden, images of their encounter after him catching her at his cabin flashed through her head. Though she attempted to shut out developing feelings for the man, another part of her mind pushed him into her.
She knew why. If he wasn't a monster, he'd be a catch of a lifetime. Good-looking, successful, intelligent, with a body that could have been carved from marble, she'd have to be dead or gay not to want him.
Though she attempted to shoo him from her mind, by the water, her hand inched down her belly and between her legs. I mean, a little daydreaming was innocent, right? Maybe it would cleanse him from her system.
Who did she need to deceive? Even the shifter who she sent packing a few hours earlier caught her arousal, but he thought it was for him. Even during the hunt, when she needed all her wits about her, Ethan Blackwood stood in her way. She couldn't have that, now that she'd learned of the card. At least one shifter other than Ethan Blackwood knew her mission, and very probably more.
Then, lying in her tub, such worries melted away like the steam rising above her. With her legs spread and her fingers running over her folds, the opening guitar riff of Back in Black raucously screamed suddenly out of the phone on the edge of her tub beside her head. Her hand sprang out of the water as if Father Augustine himself had burst into the room. Of course, she'd get a call from a priest the moment she started masturbating. The lyrics had overtaken the guitar by the time she answered the phone.
"Do you know what time it is, Father Augustine?" Ava Morales groaned and allowed her head to drop back against the bath pillow.
"Watch out young lady," he teased on the phone. "I'm not too ancient to give you a ruler to the knuckles."
“You haven’t been my headmaster for years.” Ava Morales shook her head. “But, good morning, Father Augustine.”
“Good morning to you, too,” he said, matching her dripping sarcasm. “I might not be your headmaster anymore, but I’m still your boss, and this isn’t a social call.”
"No offense, but if it were, I'd hang up." Ava Morales snorted. "It's too early in the morning, and I haven't even gotten to bed yet."
"Yes, I used to be a hunter myself when I was younger," he sighed. "I remember the long nights."
"The freaks come out at night, and so do the monsters."
Not always." The amusement in his tone had fallen flat, and gravitas had replaced it. "Some roam in the daylight. We have to discuss that card. Did the shifter have any others on him?"
No. I searched through all of his pockets and discovered only a skimpy clump of bills. No ID, either." Ava Morales shook her head just thinking about it. How was it that something with such a keen nose could smell so bad? She was certain he never bathed the jeans he wore. She used half of the bottle of hand sanitizer she kept on hand after she searched through his pockets.
Good news, though. Because it was a playing card, I feared he had a whole deck." In her mind, she pictured Father Augustine to shake his head. "It remains most troubling that even one shifter carried a photograph of you.".
"Over one, maybe," Ava Morales admitted and winced at his intake of breath. "The cat I murdered last week called me the Huntress. It might be a coincidence. It's not like it's a nice nickname or anything."
"Yeah, but it would be stupid of us to dismiss it like that." Papers went too far. "I'm going to send a picture of it to a couple contacts who know the deal, but I'll tell you right now that it is a tarot card, the ten of swords, to be specific."