Hunting the Hunter (Second in Lone Wolf series)

Chapter Two

Brendon rode hard over the next few weeks to get to northern Georgia, changing horses whenever one neared the end of its endurance. As a Hunter he only required an hour or two of sleep a night and therefore he quickly used up horses. He always had.

He had learned long ago to never get attached to mortal things. Mortals, both creatures and humans, died far too easily, far too often, all the time.

It was a hard lesson that all immortals learned given enough centuries of life.

Brendon took a deep breath as he rode down the cobblestone city streets and he curled his nose at the smell.

Hunting here would be hard. He would not be able to depend on his nose that was for sure. The scent of too many people, horses, livestock, coal and wood smoke, and human waste was heavy in the air.

Brendon hated cities. He hated hunting in cities. But a Hunter was what he was and hunting is what he would do.

He took his horse to the livery on the edge of town and after removing his small satchel of belongings, he left the horse in the care of the tall, gruff livery keeper and walked back out into the dim sunshine. It couldn’t seem to burn it’s way through the thick clouds of smoke from all the chimney’s and was dull and distant in the sky.

Brendon knew he would have to talk to someone about the murders of the past few months in order to get the lay of the land. While most would think that speaking to the members of law enforcement would be his first step, it wasn’t. Mortal law enforcement would simply tell him to mind his own business.

No, when you wanted all the gossip, you either went to the saloon or the diner. Since it was morning and the diner was sure to be full of folks drinking coffee and sharing tales, Brendon knew that had to be his first step.

Not to mention that he could use some breakfast himself, he realized as his stomach growled and a sharp cramp twisted it.

He knew from the one other time he’d been in this city, nearly ten years before, that there were five restaurants total. Three that were only open around dinner time, one that opened midday, and one that was open at dawn.

He headed for the latter of the choices, his worn black boots splashing in the puddles left on the cobblestones by the recent rain showers.

He entered the diner and ignored the heads that turned in his direction. He made his way to an empty back table, ordered a coffee and eggs and then settled back into the shadows.

It didn’t take long for his presence here to become forgotten. New faces were hardly a cause for shock in a city like this one and Brendon knew how to blend.

He was nearly done with his breakfast, and simply sipping at the weak coffee and he was beginning to think that this had been a waste of time. He was about to lay his coins on the table and leave the diner when his sharp ears picked up a hushed conversation on the other side of the crowded room.

“There was another body found just yesterday morning.” An old man said with a nod. The other old man at the table took a drink of coffee and shook his head.

“It’s the good Lord seeking vengeance on these men.” he stated matter of factly.

“How you got that figured, LeRoy?” The first man asked. LeRoy scratched at his hairy brow and shrugged his thin shoulders.

“It’s easy to figure, really.” he assured his friend. “Every man that’s been killed has either been drinking and sinning at the saloon or coming out of the brothel. Not one has been killed anywhere else.”

“Kenneth Keel found one of those bodies and he told me there was something funny about the neck.”

“Funny how? Was it broke?” LeRoy asked and the first man shook his head, his wrinkled neck crinkling with the movement.