Night predator, p.1
Night Predator, page 1
night predator
URBAN JUNGLE
BOOK 3
SK PRINCE
© 2023, SK Prince
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Cover Designer: Knesart - Book Cover Designs
Editor: Jennifer Jones, Bookends Editing
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
SK Prince
PO Box 873403
Wasilla, AK 99687
USA
contents
About this Book
1. Maury
2. Maury
3. Maury
4. Maury
5. Anthony
6. Maury
7. Maury
8. Maury
9. Maury
10. Anthony
11. Maury
12. Maury
13. Maury
14. Anthony
15. Maury
16. Anthony
17. Maury
18. Maury
19. Anthony
20. Maury
Epilogue
What’s Next
Sneak Peek
Meet the Author
about this book
I, Maury Powell, am hunting a dark witch who is threatening my newfound family. She strikes from the shadows, casting spells to attack and harass the cat shifter pride.
Then, she murders my stepmother, leaving her brutalized body in the bayou.
It is up to me and my fated mate, Alpha Anthony Holder, to track down the witch and protect the pride . . . and our unborn baby.
But the witch seems to be one step ahead, having secured a deadly weapon that could destroy the pride from the inside out.
With time running out and everything I love on the line, I must be strong enough to stand up to the darkness and protect my family from the forces of evil?
CHAPTER ONE
maury
Early November
New Port Orleans, Louisiana
I slammed my hand on the table, pissed I couldn’t focus on anything anymore—not even the damn witch out in the bayou. Adrienne McCullough had to be found.
We’d gone off lockdown a week or two after the witch had shown herself, but the whole pride was still on high alert combined with hyper-vigilance. At least all the bayou deaths had stopped when Darius died, and the authorities went back to leaving us alone.
We’d only just finished breakfast, and my brain refused to cooperate. At least the rest of the warriors at the table seemed to be invested in the topic. They batted ideas back and forth, plans of attack, ways to hunt the bayou, and the tang of exhaustion singed my nose. The whole Lafourche Magnolia pride was more than tired.
Yet we weren’t any closer to tracking her down than we’d been when she stepped into our lives and screwed everything up. I drummed my fingers on the boardroom table. How long until we lost more lives to this unending stalemate?
Two dozen enforcers, or perhaps a third of our total number remaining at home, surrounded a large banquet table in the meeting room in the basement of the pride headquarters buildings. The rest were out searching, hunting, and tracking for any clues or details about our elusive prey. Their conversations continued at a low murmur, and the sounds turned into a dull hum in the back of my brain.
The enforcers were more tired than I was. Anthony Holder, my fated mate, demanded I stay in the warded places in the headquarters buildings owned by the pride (one of two buildings he owned in the historic downtown that were connected by a breezeway). Obliging him was a full-time job on its own, and it infuriated me more and more to be trapped inside because it was “safer.”
Swiping a book from the pile at the corner of the meeting table, I opened it to the marked page. The list of kinds of witches and magical combinations seemed endless. I slammed the volume closed and tossed it back on the pile. The chair creaked as I leaned back. I’d read all the books Joey Book, ironically the pride librarian, had brought. None of the information was new or helpful anymore.
Anthony glanced at me. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I bit out with more acid in my tone than I intended. So, I patted his hand and added, “I’m fine, love. I’m as frustrated as the rest of the pride is.”
Two dozen heads nodded in agreement, and Anthony turned back to the map of the bayou and the discussion at hand. I’d grown too pissed and tired of the endless shit to be any more help today.
We’d been searching for ninety days, trying to find our enemy, and I was getting sick of being stuck downstairs, stuck in a holding pattern where we weren’t allowed to leave the two buildings. We had a thousand annoyances everyday: our stored food inexplicably spoiled, the armored pride vehicles all had flat tires on the same day, the electric cut out for forty-eight hours. The list of inconveniences went on, but they all added up to one powerful witch named Adrienne McCullough—who hated us.
Three months! How had our enemy managed to remain hidden so long?
Three fucking months we’d been hunting for Adrienne, the surviving widow of Darius McCullough, the rogue shifter who hated Anthony and who’d attacked me over two years ago, and we weren’t any closer to finding her. She hated us but continually struck at us from the shadows.
Anthony stood, placed his hands on the table, and leaned forward. “Unless anyone else has anything useful to add, we’ll adjourn until our next status update.”
No one spoke, and several shook their heads.
“Then we’re adjourned until this time tomorrow morning. You know your assignments. Please reach out if you find clues of any kind.”
Two dozen desk chairs rolled away from the conference table, and twenty-five enforcers left the new meeting area as quickly as they could. They all hated these unsuccessful get-togethers as much as I did. We were all on edge and wearied by the endless supply of failure, and the pride was going restless.
With a dark look, Ty, my biological father and the most skilled pride tracker, stopped Anthony for a conversation I didn’t care to eavesdrop on. Instead, my stomach churned as I stood and picked my way out of the collection of enforcers. Keeping my gaze on the ground, I hoped none of them would stop me.
A hand grazed my elbow, and I slowed, relieved to see Laura Vo, my best friend, and cougar shifter.
“What’re you doing today?” she asked, concern flashing in her violet eyes.
My shoulders drooped slightly. “Interviewing another witch.”
Laura scowled as she took a sip of her coffee. Finally, she asked, “Another one? Why’s Anthony want another one? We’ve had at least six working through whatever they know how to do, and none of them have come up with anything.”
“Well, Anthony and Joey—”
She pursed her lips, and her expression twisted. “I think he’s just trying to keep you tied up with busy work, and the pride historian is in on it.”
I shot her a look, intending to inspire her to mind her own business, but she said everything I was beginning to suspect. “You already knew about Joey being involved.”
“Did I?” She quirked her eyebrow, and she took another deep sip of what must have been her third or fourth coffee this morning. “Maybe I did.”
I crossed my arms. “And maybe you were trying to get me to realize what I already knew.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Maybe.”
“But what you seem to forget is that I like to keep busy, so I don’t mind interviewing the witches in the off chance we find the one who is the magical opposite of Adrienne and will lead us to her.”
“Like a compass,” Laura added. “At least according to what Joey thinks.”
“Yeah. There’s that, as you already know, but it’s more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Anthony and Joey got together and decided we just need to find the one witch who will be able to counteract Adrienne. Joey found some obscure reference to opposite magics canceling each other out. It was something about yin and yang, two sides of a coin, or two sides of the dagger. Somehow, it’s similar to the concept of fated mates. It was hard for me to follow, but as the pride alpha, they want me to check this one out. It was a little muddled.”
She opened the door, and we left the new meeting area in the safe room that mostly didn’t double as a gym anymore. “Don’t you think they’re grasping at straws?”
We crossed to the stairwell and started up. “Sure,” I said. “But what difference does it make? What if we find the one straw that breaks Adrienne’s back? If we can do that, maybe I don’t mind grasping at a few straws.”
“So, it doesn’t bother you?”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but I don’t mind looking into everything. Adrienne was the power behind Darius, and I’m pretty interested in making sure she doesn’t win whatever it is she’s trying for, even if it’s only vengeance for killing Darius. This is what Anthony thinks will work, and I’m willing to try it until we’ve tried every witch in the pa rish… or even the whole state of Louisiana.”
Laura’s mouth pinched. “So, since when do you have to find the perfect witch?”
“We’ve been over this a dozen times.” I checked my watch, trying to calculate how much time I had until my appointment.
She elbowed me. “Tell me again.”
I lowered my voice as a group of enforcers jogged past on their way to their patrol rotations. “Since I still have access to all the power from the shifters who volunteered, they think I stand a better shot at it.” I covered a yawn. “Better sensory perception or some shit. At least it was true when we met Adrienne.”
She stopped on the landing, put her coffee on top of the newel post, and grasped my shoulders. “You have dark circles under your eyes, Maury. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”
“When I was a baby,” I joked. I avoided meeting her gaze, checking the time instead. ”Mostly, I’m just tired lately. All the stress, I think. Don’t worry about me.”
Laura released my shoulders. Then she retrieved her coffee, but she didn’t look convinced as we started back up the stairs. ”Did you have breakfast?”
My stomach twisted at the thought of putting anything in my mouth, and I bit back a gag. “Not hungry.”
“Maury, come on. Don’t you think you’re working too hard? I won’t let your assumed responsibility to the pride put you in an early grave.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” I didn’t have any more time to allay her fears, and I checked my watch for the third time. “Hey, listen, I’ve got to get upstairs or I’m going to be late. Meet me for lunch?”
“Sure,” she said, a storm already brewing in her violet eyes.
My shoulders drooped even more. Laura was planning all the things she was going to tell me over salad or soup or whatever I decided sounded good. Since I was already damned either way as far as Laura was concerned, I hoped she didn’t mind ordering in so I could read up on Lafourche Magnolia pride politics while she ranted at me.
I hurried into Cool Cats Art Gallery on the lowest level of Anthony’s building. Shelly, the art gallery receptionist, sat behind the desk, typing something into her computer.
I stopped at the counter beside her. “Hey, Shelly, how’s Mason?”
“He’s missing you in the nursery and asked me to bring him by to show you his new kilt.”
I grinned over that badass little man. Mason was only three years old and a million miles tall. “Is my ten o’clock here yet?”
She gestured toward a tall, slender woman in the gallery. The stranger’s red and purple hair hung loose around her shoulders, and despite being summer, she had a dark blue knit shawl wrapping her torso. It was as if she’d stepped out of autumn into the dog days of summer.
“Has she been here long?” I whispered.
Shelly shook her head. “Only just walked in, introduced herself, and immediately started studying the paintings.”
I nodded and approached the stranger. “Tillie?”
The woman whirled, and her patchwork skirt flared. “Ah, hello.” She stuck out her hand, seeming young and old at the same time. “I’m Tillie Green.”
When her palm grazed mine, a static electricity discharged with a jolt, and a chill burst through me. My stomach jumped, reminding me of the drop on a rollercoaster—the one time one of my foster parents took me to an amusement park. I scowled at her.
She yanked her hand back. “Oof, sorry. Leftovers.”
I squinted and glanced at my fingers. “Leftovers?”
“Spell leftovers.”
“Ah.” I frowned and pointed to the witch, already drawing on the powers of the pride I still had access to, preparing to attack her. I glanced toward Shelly, but the receptionist had her head down and hadn’t seemed to notice anything at all.
Tillie put her hands up as if to calm me. “Don’t worry. It was just a body temp spell. I wanted to wear fall clothes, and it’s hotter than Hades out today. At least for wearing boots and a shawl.”
“So it is,” I agreed. “What’s a body temp spell?”
“Do you know much about magic?”
“Not much.” It was an understatement, but I knew less about witching magic than I did about shifting magic.
“My magic is more closely related to the Air element, so my talents work better with atmosphere and weather and things like that.”
“Okay…” I didn’t see how this connected to anything I needed to know or even whatever she called “spell leftovers.”
“Anyway, last week, I worked up a personal cold front spell, took notes, and repeated it today so I’m mentally pretending it’s my favorite month while it’s not.”
I crossed my arms and considered her for a long moment. “Let me guess. Your favorite month is October?”
“You guessed it.” She gestured to herself. “I’m the witch who likes October, a walking cliché, who lives in the wrong part of the country, what can I say?” She shrugged. “That was the spell leftovers. You probably felt the chill.” She peered at me. “Though, the temperature change part sort of bounced off you for whatever reason.”
I considered her clear, deep brown eyes. Her face held no trace of malice or deception, and she didn’t scent of either one, and I was surprised to find I believed her.
She pointed to one of the larger canvases on the wall. “I was checking out the previous owners of some of these printings. Well, at least of the frames. I didn’t want to get in trouble for touching the paintings themselves. Some of the frames have had incredible lives. Though, I was surprised that most of them weren’t owned by shifters.”
“But we don’t put previous owner information on the tags.”
“Nevertheless.”
“Then how do you know most of them weren’t shifters?” I made a mental note to ask Shelly if there was any way to verify what Tillie claimed.
“I put my hand on whatever I’m tracing and say a spell, and I can usually pick up the energy of the previous owner and maybe the one before. I see snippets of things. I think most people call it psychic, but it’s magic-based for me.” She looked like she wanted to add something, but she closed her mouth.
“Is there more to your abilities?”
She gave me a sheepish grin. “A little.”
“Go on.”
“Well, often, I’m then able to follow the vibrations of those owners through the atmosphere until I find the person. It doesn’t always work, but it’s a hella handy skill when it does. That’s part of why I run a missing person location service.”
“Oh, I see. That’s why you were referred to us, Ms. Green.”
“Are you looking for someone?”
“In fact, we are. Have you ever heard the name Adrienne McCullough?”
CHAPTER TWO
maury
I stifled a yawn, and Anthony glanced at me while he explained the next steps of our plan to hunt down Adrienne. It had been another morning of these blasted unproductive meetings, and despite not having any sort of solution, I wanted to stab my eyeballs out from frustration.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, but I didn’t bother dragging it out. I hadn’t had one for the first two months I’d been here, so I was glad to have it, even if I mostly ignored it.
Somebody sneezed, and all the cats at the table nearly jumped out of their chairs, including me. If we’d all been fur out, every inch of it would have been standing on end. I winced.
How the hell could we go on like this? Day in, day out, never catching sight of Adrienne, but being pestered by her non-stop. I’d had high hopes for Tillie, but she hadn’t come back from her first prowl out in the bayou yet, and I wasn’t sure if she was being thorough or maybe she’d become some gator’s lunch. I shuddered at the thought.
