Bonus chapter for those that were unfortunately caught up in my two year hiatus. This one's a tad more exciting than the last.

Equinox

Chapter Fourteen

Though neither admitted who had won their sudden race, Dylan's stoic behavior after the fact, coupled with the smug glint in Fang's eyes, led me to believe that our new bird boy was more of a match for Dylan than he was willing to admit. However, I didn't relish the notion of being left with a quietly simmering Dylan all day, so we spent the rest of the morning in the arena, where both of us seasoned hunters got the chance to show off. This time more successfully.

Dylan and I were still fantastic on our own, and each of us could handle any paranormal thrust our way, but we had grown up as partners. That meant we did our quickest, most efficient, and undeniably more theatrically appeasing work together. Thus, we spent a fair amount of time showing the flock various strategies we employed when hunting paranormals, with Gazzy happily stepping in on behalf of whatever creature we were displaying how to kill. I explained that because their physical capabilities were appearing up to par, they would likely spend the majority of their time learning similar strategies and potentially formulating some of their own.

Apparently John Abate had taught me well, because this training stuff was just too easy. All I had to do was delegate a regular fitness regimen, assign outside research, and teach them how to kill what needed to be killed. Though it did help that I had incredibly willing pupils.

After lunch I unleashed them on the arena. Gazzy took Angel and Nudge through the course- a series of discombobulated structures that, in total honesty, looked like a very large children's jungle gym. They mimicked his movements as he swung from ropes placed strategically throughout, occasionally halting to instruct them on various scenarios. Dylan had wandered to the other side of the room, where an expansive target range was set up. Fang watched with arms folded as Dylan fired arrow after arrow from his bow into the heads and hearts of dummies and the very center of the other targets. Fang's expression was blank, but I detected a few barely imperceptible winces at each thunk that resounded through the open air. I had almost forgotten that Dylan had shot Fang, whose shoulders were now coiled with tension, no doubt at the memory of his injured wing.

I joined them, hoping to distract Fang. So far, Dylan had been the only one to outwardly exude any animosity, but it was doubtful that Fang didn't harbor some ill will of his own. After all, his first impression of Dylan was the sound of one of his silver arrows whistling through the air and slicing into his skin. Dylan hadn't known at the time that he was actually shooting a person, but the tension lingering between them was still heavy.

A large cupboard to the left of the targets housed an array of weapons. I rifled through it, fingers fluttering over the handles of a set of knives. Over my shoulder, someone uttered a low whistle. I stiffened, having not detected anyone approaching. Shaking off the sensation, I turned with my hands full of sharpened steel. Fang took a step back, eyeing the blades before returning his gaze to mine.

"You're quiet," I stated appraisingly. I didn't like that he had caught me off guard, even when I was relaxed, but I recognized that it was a good quality to have nonetheless.

He shrugged, ruffling the hair at the back of his neck. It was a lazy motion, just like the brief quirk of his lips. The raised curve of his brow conveyed that he hadn't expected a compliment.

I quickly went on to say, "Now let's see how your aim is."

There were a cluster of targets at the end of the line that Dylan had left untouched. After handing the remaining knives to Fang, I stood about ten paces away and nonchalantly flicked the blade at one of the circular frames. It landed hilt deep in the canvas, lodging itself so firmly in the sand that none escaped. A perfect bulls-eye. I was more of a hand to hand combat kind of girl, but I could hit a target as well as the next hunter.

Fang lined up next. From the get go, he was all wrong. His stance and hold was way off, and when he threw, the knife somersaulted in a wide arc through the air. When it hit the target, it tore a four inch slit that instantly began spilling beads onto the ground. His eyes narrowed in scrutiny and the corner of his mouth turned downward. I approached, beginning to correct his form, when a shout from Dylan diverted my attention.

"Max, you gotta check this out," he called, excitement oozing from his words.

I turned from Fang, and after a few seconds he followed me back to where Dylan and Iggy were standing. Both were wearing wide grins. I was surprised to see Iggy's hands laden with the wooden, knife-like objects that John Abate had used to help us learn to throw when we were very young. Next to him, Dylan had a bucket half full of the balls we often used as small, moving targets.

"The funny thing about being blind," Iggy began, very cheerfully for someone discussing their blindness, "is that as a result of losing one sense, your others are often heightened in response."

I raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at Dylan. Where was this going?

"The dude hears really well," Dylan claimed, still beaming like a kid on Christmas. "He hears about as well as I can see, and that's saying something."

Then, Dylan pulled a ball from his bucket. The movement sent the bells inside it tinkling. It began to dawn on me, even before Dylan bent his arm back and firmly threw the ball to the ground. I watched with bated breath as it bounced high into the air. Iggy cocked his head, tilting it slightly to the right. His brow puckered in concentration, as the ball rebounded into the open again, this time lower than before, but still jingling as the little bits inside it jostled one another. As it bounced, it moved from one place to another. Each time, Iggy adjusted his feet so that he was facing the correct direction. After a few moments of this, he suddenly pelted a wooden block toward the sphere. He had a good arm. The dulled tip of his weapon shot forward in a flash and collided with the ball mid-air.

I hadn't been sure how to address the dilemma of Iggy's blindness. There had been no doubt in my mind that he wouldn't be able to hunt. How could he? How could anyone in his … condition? Taking him would be a liability. I had figured he would just become the expert on paranormals amongst the flock, spending all his time in the library and eventually becoming the brain of the group.

Now I wasn't so sure.

A chorus of cheers roused me from my thoughts. Gazzy, Nudge, and Angel had been drawn from their activities and were now celebrating Iggy's unique skill. He flushed a light pink in response, but I could see the pride in his cloudy blue eyes. Even Fang cracked a smile, clapping him on the back.

"You're a better shot than I am, Ig," he admitted, knocking his fist against Iggy's shoulder.

Dylan wandered to my side, elbow brushing mine. "That ear could come in handy."

I nodded contemplatively, as Gazzy snatched up more balls and began tossing them around the perimeter. Iggy knocked every one from orbit, as his flock clapped from the sidelines. Between Fang's unnatural silence and Iggy's brilliant hearing, the birdkids were shaping up to be more impressive than I first imagined. Only time would tell how much more improvement was in store.

But first, they needed to be exposed to the hunt.

-o-o-o-

Much to the chagrin of the younger kids, I was only taking Fang and Iggy out that night. They were the oldest and the most capable in case of emergency. I couldn't keep track of all five of them if something went wrong. I was only intending to take them scouting, but it wasn't uncommon to cross paths with a paranormal accidentally.

Fortunately, they had Gazzy to contend with. He knew all too well the feeling of being left behind, so I was positive he'd find a way for them to amuse themselves while we were gone.

With Anne's (completely unnecessary) approval, Dylan and I descended into the weapon's room that night with our guests. I had briefly shown the flock the expansive warehouse on our original tour, but now we actually walked the floor. Iggy couldn't grasp the magnitude, of course, but Fang's head swiveled left and right as we maneuvered our way through the shelves. I outfitted them with the general equipment, but made sure to emphasize that it was in everyone's best interest if they let Dylan and I handle the fighting if it came to such an extreme.

Along with the light, the sun had taken all the warmth with it as it sunk beneath the horizon. Temperatures were well below freezing, and a thin layer of powdery snow dusted the forest floor. Further flakes drifted between the gaps in the bare, skeleton branches above. The moon was high and clear, waxing toward full. Its light painted our surroundings in a soft, gray glow.

We tramped through the underbrush for thirty minutes, heading about a mile due west of the compound. Once we reached a thinning area of the forest, not too far from a small, newly renovated subdivision outside one of the more major cities located near the CSM, we halted.

In a hushed whisper, I explained to Fang and Iggy what our next move would be.

"This area is known for drawing paranormals. City council keeps optioning new housing developments and expanding outward into the forest. They want to up their economic standing by bringing in more people and thus creating a bigger need for commercial properties. But more people, especially all at once, also attracts creatures that the bigwigs in office aren't intending."

Dylan, who had been scoping the immediate area, drifted closer to where the three of us were huddled in a circle. He held his bow casually, but he had an arrow notched loosely just in case something appeared. Even as he stopped at my side, his turquoise eyes never rested on one place too long. They flickered here and there, taking in every detail of our surroundings and every movement of the wind.

Quietly, he continued my speech as if he had been the one talking in the first place. "We send scouting parties this way pretty regularly. That's our purpose tonight. We're not hunting, we're just keeping our eyes and ears open."

"As a hunter, you're trained to hone and heighten your senses. The more experience you gain, the more easily you can distinguish between a rustle caused by the wind or by something that shouldn't be around. You also learn to track paranormals amongst regular animals," I added, a hand against the hilt of a knife on my belt at all times.

The wind picked up as I spoke, swirling the snow at our feet and lifting stray strands of my hair. Beside me, Iggy shivered and adjusted his coat more snugly around his shoulders. I had given each of the flock members new clothes, though scrounging up more than the bare necessity had been an issue, especially for the girls. Between Dylan and the other male hunters, there were plenty of unclaimed articles lying around for Fang and Iggy. I was the youngest female regularly at our headquarters though, and most of the clothes I had grown out of were tossed long ago.

"Usually Dylan and I go on missions with just the two of us. We've got a system worked out for most everything, including scouting," I informed them, tucking a blonde tendril behind my ear. "Dylan's got the best eyes, so he focuses on tracking. I watch his back, listening and watching for intrusions. Because there are four of us now, we can split up the duties more precisely. As we travel, I need Iggy to concentrate on sounds. I'll act as normal, so Fang, you can help Dylan."

Dylan eyed me sourly, looking less than thrilled that I had paired him with Fang. I shot him an admonishing glare. He huffed under his breath but cleared his expression nonetheless. Fang regarded him as blankly as usual. To my left, Iggy just smiled through the tension.

The next ten minutes went relatively smoothly. Dylan scanned the ground, occasionally stooping to examine the foliage or the slashed bark of a tree. There was evidence of werewolves, but the trail was weeks old. Probably left over from the solstice. Fang trailed slightly behind him, listening to whatever mutters he emitted and nodding every once in awhile. Iggy and I stayed a few paces behind, a little slower due to my having to maneuver him around certain obstacles. Still, my neck was in constant motion, twisting this way and that, eyes trained for unusual movement. Iggy remained mostly still, listening intently.

After awhile, Fang and Dylan had drawn an uncomfortable distance ahead. I was about to pull them back when Iggy stumbled beside me. Instinctively, he reached out a hand to steady himself. Unfortunately, his palm landed directly on a tree that's bark had been roughly peeled back in a few places. He cursed- not too loudly, but enough. Hissing, he displayed his slashed hand and the blood beginning to seep from the cut.

This was enough to snare the other boys' attention. They stopped and turned to face us. I waved off their concerned expressions, saying, "He cut himself, it's fine."

But it wasn't. Not a moment after the word 'fine' had passed my lips, Iggy's head raised sharply. His eyes flew open wide, as he stared sightlessly down at me. The intensity in his gaze froze my every limb. How could someone that couldn't see look at anything so powerfully?

"Something's coming," he whispered, panic hitching in his voice. "Something big."

A few erratic thumps of the heart later, I heard it too. Something was crashing through the underbrush and making no attempt at stealth. I whipped around to face Dylan and Fang. They had stiffened, listening to the approaching figure. A thousands words heaved to the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't manage to wrestle even one into tangible existence. They turned away, squinting back into the darkness of the trees.

The sound neared, almost on top of them.

Fang stumbled back, melding into the shadows just as a tall, thin shape manifested within my view. The man strolled into the clearing, eyes locked on his target. Eyes black as the pit of hell and unblinking as he stared hungrily at Dylan. His fangs gleamed like ivory in the muted light, and his ashen skin displayed clearly the web-work of his blackened veins.

Dylan didn't hesitate. He dropped his bow and unsheathed a stake with one fluid motion. Without wasting a second, he jabbed toward the vampire, aiming a strong, clean shot at his shriveled heart. It should have been over then. We had been through this a thousand times and that's when it should have ended. Even when concerning the supernatural, there were natural laws that hindered them.

But with speed unlike anything I've ever seen, the vamp reached out and blocked Dylan's arm. The stake dislodged from his hand and fell feet away- too far away for him to recover. I wanted to move. I needed to move, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I was too far away and the vampire was moving too quickly.

Dylan backed away, settling into a crouch. Apparently the vampire wasn't interested in his meal putting up a fight, though. He lunged. Dylan threw a fist, but it was like punching iron. The vamp didn't even flinch. He just grabbed Dylan like he weighed less than a doll and twisted his entire body so that his back was pressed to his chest. One arm created a bar across Dylan's ribcage. He struggled against his captor, face going purple with strain. The vampire laughed at his useless effort before grasping a fistful of his straw colored hair and yanking his head sideways so that his neck was exposed.

I watched his whole body go slack as the vampire's fangs sliced into his veins, and all I could do was scream:

"Dylan!"