47 | TWO BIRDS...ONE STONE...

I don’t immediately speak when Shola asks me why we’re here. My eyes have fallen to the maps on display that she’d set on the table. Darklight sits between Colton and Red Valley. I stare at the map, noting how Darklight’s really the only pit stop between the two - though Red Valley seems to be the end of the line in terms of towns. It has no roads connecting it to other towns or the highway. I stare at the location, recalling the little I know about the place and what I’ve been told.

Shola settles in the empty seat on my other side while Zoe sips on her warmed cup of blood. The woman’s presence sets off the same prickling along the base of my neck and I eye her suspiciously as she plucks a little roll from the center of the table. The fact that this human knew I was a hybrid almost immediately raises my suspicions of what she is. I know - even if she’s met Hale - that he’d never tell anyone what I am unless they were close friends or someone he could trust.

“Ask.” She tells me cooly, a smirk hovering at the corners of her red-stained lips. Her dark red eyes moving to eye me as she pops a bite-sized chunk of bread into her mouth.

“You’re not a supernatural.” I say slowly, my mind whirling as I glance at her black leather jacket and he weird way it bulges in spots. I know without trying that she’s got at least two knives tucked on her belt by the way she’s sitting. And maybe even a gun. Silver glints along the edges of her collar, barely-there in it’s thin - almost fiber-like strands.

“That’s not a question.” Shola grins at me, flashing her perfect white teeth at me, though the expression doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There’s an odd sort of calculation to the way she looks at me - unlike the look most humans get - even when they know what I am. It’s like she doesn’t really even see me - more like she sees the chinks in my armor, the best ways to trap or hurt me, should I make a move against her.

“You’re a Hunter.” I accuse through gritted teeth, my hackles rising as soon as I put two-and-two together. Shola’s smile grows impossibly wide and I feel my stomach dropping, while nausea simultaneously twists in me.

“You are a smart one, aren’t you?” She sits back in her chair slowly, still holding onto her roll and plucking pieces off of it to pop into her mouth as she looks at me. “I am. Shola Graves,” She offers me one hand - her left. I stare at it, noting the scars that crisscross her dark skin, swearing I see some rather old bite marks. But her name intrigues me, so I very slowly take her calloused hand into mine and give it a firm shake.

“Graves…of the Mississippi Clan?” I ask slowly as we release each other and I settle back into my chair. Shola’s wide smile now fades before she seems to remember herself and sets her bread down on the plate.

“My kin,” She nods once, all business now. “Are you the one looking for them?”

“No - well, kind of. We’ve been searching for the branch family Dalton-” I blurt out, relaxing a little with the knowledge that this lady may have an answer to the question about the Hunter we’ve been searching for.

“Honey, Dalton’s not a branch family. It’s a first name.” Shola frowns fully before her lips twist into a large grin. I stare at her as it dawns on me. Of course, Dalton’s a first name. Nikki never said it was a sir name - only a family name. I’d stupidly assumed it was a last name.

“Do you know them?” I question hopefully. Shola’s easy smile stiffens a little, her dark red eyes tightening a degree.

“I might. Why’re you looking for him?” She asks me, tilting her chin up almost challengingly.

“It’s a long story, but I have reasonable intel that his life may be in danger. His life’s supposed to be important to the,” I gesture around to encompass the world. “Basically, we want to make sure he stays a live.” Shola looks from me to Zoe - who’s still sipping at her mug of blood. Zoe looks back at her calmly, but I can sense my companion is watching the Hunter for any signs of danger - and Shola knows it.

“Dalton’s my cousin.” Shola tells me after a long pause, something pulses in the recesses of my head. A memory of a vision… I force the memory back down before I get more than a glimpse of a smoldering smirk passing between a man and Paris. “Haven’t seen him in a while…” Shola’s words bring me completely back to the present. She’s gone back to picking at her bread. “Last I heard he was patrolling up and down the territory.” She offers the information I’ve already guessed at. Craven and Ry chased the guy for a few towns, then lost him. It stands to reason he’s on the run in a purposeful way.

“Could you get in touch with him?” I ask carefully. Shola stops playing with the bread and hesitates, considering.

“I might,” She finally speaks and removes her hands from the mess on the plate. “Hunters aren’t known for their trust - even among their own kin.” She states, locking eyes with me. “Especially not Dalton…” Then she tilts her head at me. “Your name…” Her eyes scan over me assessingly. “You wouldn’t happen to be a descendant of the Reinier Pack of the Northeastern Sea Board would you?” The way she says it, the name of my old Pack, makes me shift uncomfortably for a second.

“I am…” I sigh out, hoping she won’t hold it against me.

“What a small world…” Shola’s red-stained lips twist from thin to grimacing. Well…fuck… “I hope, or your sake, you never find Dalton.”

“What?” I ask, feeling that creeping feeling that something from my past is about to be brought up to bite me in the ass.

“Why?” Zoe asks at the same time, her voice tearing through the conversation and reminding me she’s here with us.

“Your Alpha - Petra -” Shola spits to me, a fire rolling through her voice. “Killed all but fifteen of us Graves Hunters, Tracked the Clan and wiped us out one night. Followed the stragglers back to our base of operations and-” Shola stops talking as her voice’s volume begins to rise. She takes a deep breath, as if reminding herself that that was all in the past not something fresh. “Dalton’s promised vengeance for that night on the Reiniers.” I try not to wince at that. Grandmother was a piece of work, and I knew she had made a mess out of chasing any and all local supernaturals away from the Reinier territory back before I was exiled from the Pack. But Tracking and hunting Hunters seems like a whole new level of crazy. “He’s one of our best,” Shola warns me after a beat of silence.

“My grandmother’s dead.” The words spill from my mouth with more venom than I wanted, making Shola’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “I killed her.” I try not to cringe and show how guilty I still feel for murdering my own grandmother, but it had been a necessary evil at the time. something that was going to happen - what with her insanity and horrible ruling over the Pack.

“Huh,” A look of begrudging respect sweeps over Shola’s face, smoothing the anger from her fine features.

“She was nuts.” I supply, as if it’ll help my case any. “She had been for years. That’s why the Pack…it wasn’t their fault.” The insistent tone in my voice is more confident than I feel, but I know - deep in my heart - that not all Reiniers would have wiped out a whole Clan of Hunter if given the choice. Some may have, but not all. Not Paris.

“Dalton is like a brother to me,” Shola starts in an icy tone, her dark red eyes locking on mine with a ferocity more akin to that of a mother wolf guarding her pup than a cousin speaking of another cousin. “If I get wind you or any of your Pack hurt him…” A vicious smile twists at her mouth, something more feral than should be possible from a human.

“You have my word.” I promise. “We want to make sure he lives. If we can find him, we’ll keep him safe.” Shola takes a long moment to study me, her dark red eyes boring into mine as her grimace finally relaxes.

“He was heading back up to the Reinier territory last I heard.” She sighs, sitting back and gives me a wary shrug. “Rumors that the Pack was under new management…well, he said he wanted to see it for himself.” She looks at me carefully, her eyes resting on my hair. “You have her fur?” I don’t have to ask who she’s talking about. I feel my heart twist, but in relief or guilt, I’m not sure.

“Not exactly. Red and silver.” I tell her. Her eyes spark a little when I say that and a small smile - a real smile - pulls at her lips.

“Then I can guarantee he won’t lay a finger on you.” Shola tells me - her body sinking back into her chair. “Long story, but Dalton’s not a blood-thirsty man. He’s got a good head on his shoulder, knows where to aim his hatred. It was a blood-red wolf who killed his parents.”

“Petra.” I affirm with a nod. “She was the only one with the coloring-” I stop talking as Paris’ face flashes in my mind. “But one of my cousins did inherit it.”

“How old?” Shola frowns, a hint of mistrust flickering back into her eyes.

“My age. Seventeen.” I relay, feeling my chest tighten with more caution than I had a right to feel. My cousin could take care of herself - having been more than just an Enforcer under our grandmother before becoming an Alpha.

“Too young.” Shola slumps in her chair again, a relieved smile pulling at her lips. The protectiveness in me smooths out as well, giving our once-tense exchange a much needed relaxed-vibe. “Good.” She nods to me and tilts her head as Dr. Chambers’ presence filters back into my conciousness, pressing deep against my bones and turning my already churning presence. I have a feeling that this little chat with Shola was a warm-up for the real thing. My true purpose for coming to Darklight. And for once I’m finding it very hard to look into the eyes of another supernatural as the large Scandinavian settles into the seat across the table from mine.