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Mercy dropped into the chair opposite them, folding her arms over her chest. “That bitch,” she muttered under her breath. The laughter between Brie and Colby only grew louder, but Mercy’s mood remained sour. “This isn’t funny, you know.”
Brie’s smile softened, but it didn’t vanish. “Oh, come on, Mercy. You’ve survived far worse than a fated bond with a vampire.”
“I’m not so sure,” she shot back. “This is a disaster waiting to happen.” She paused, then added, “I need to talk to Adriana. Maybe she can whip up some sort of pheromone spray or something to keep him at bay.”
Brie and Colby both laughed harder, doubling over with amusement as Mercy glared daggers at them.
“Pheromone spray?” Colby wheezed between breaths. “Yeah, I’m sure that’ll work.”
“You think this is a joke?” Mercy snapped. “It’s Hunter. Did you miss the part where he’s a vampire? He’s… dangerous.”
Brie composed herself, though her eyes still danced with amusement. “He’s dangerous, sure. But so are you.”
Mercy snorted, not in the mood for compliments. “Whatever. I’m here to see the woman. You know, the one who actually matters.”
The smiles on Brie and Colby’s faces sobered, and they exchanged a quick glance. Brie nodded toward the far end of the abbey. “She’s resting in the west wing. They’ve got her in one of the recovery rooms.”
Mercy stood, brushing off her pants and muttering something under her breath about vampires and fated mates before heading off in the direction Brie had indicated. She could still feel Hunter’s presence in the air, like an itch under her skin she couldn’t scratch.Fucking matchmakers, she thought as she stalked down the long corridor. Brie and Colby would probably get a kick out of it if she found Hunter waiting in the woman’s room just to screw with her.
She pushed open the door to the recovery room, her eyes immediately scanning the space. Of course, there he was. Standing near the foot of the bed, looking as cool and composed as ever, was Hunter.
Mercy’s fingers twitched, and she fought the urge to throw something at him. She swallowed her irritation, standing straighter as she approached the bed where the woman lay, pale and still, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Hunter glanced up at Mercy as she entered, something unreadable flickering in his ice-blue eyes.
“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” Mercy muttered, her voice thick with sarcasm.
“I was just making sure she’s still alive,” Hunter replied, his voice steady but without its usual arrogance. “There’s something off about her.”
Mercy stepped closer; her brow furrowed. “She’s a shifter. But I can’t quite figure out what kind.” She paused, biting her lip in frustration.
“I didn’t think shifters could always tell what kind of shifter another was, just that someone is a shifter.”
“That’s the case for most of us, but I’m usually pretty good at figuring it out. It’s not supposed to happen to me.” It was almost a musing to herself, the unease crawling up her spine as she studied the woman’s face. “I should be able to tell.”
Hunter’s eyes flicked toward Mercy, his expression softening slightly. “It’s okay. We’re all supernatural beings here, but very few of us are omnipotent. You can’t be expected to know every single one of us.”
“You don’t understand,” Mercy murmured, her gaze still on the unconscious woman. She wasn’t ready to explain her gift to Hunter—or anyone else, for that matter. What she could do went beyond mere identification of a supernatural being. It was like knowing their DNA, their essence, their weaknesses and strengths. A tool like that in the wrong hands could be dangerous. Deadly, even.
Knowing what kind of supernatural you were up against meant knowing how to destroy them, if needed. She wasn’t about to advertise that.
Hunter’s brow furrowed, as though he sensed the shift in her thoughts, but before he could press further, another voice cut through the room.
“That’s because she’s fae,” said a voice from behind them. “Well, some kind of fae-shifter.”
Mercy whipped her head around, startled to see a man standing in the doorway. He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a casual, professional manner, a tablet in his hand. His sharp eyes were fixed on the woman lying in the bed as he scrolled through something on the electronic tablet in his hand, clearly reviewing something.
“Fae? Fae-shifter?” Mercy echoed, her voice rising in disbelief. Hunter, standing beside her, mirrored her surprise, both of them speaking in unison. “She’s fae?”
The man, clearly some kind of doctor, glanced up, offering a brief nod. “Yes. I’m Greg, the chief medical officer here at the abbey. Her being fae could explain why neither of you could pinpoint her shifter nature. Fae magic has a way of masking certain aspects of their identity. It’s very subtle, but powerful.My guess is she’s wolf, as am I. It’s always easier to pinpoint what kind of shifter if you’re the same kind.”
Mercy stared at the unconscious woman, her mind racing. Fae. She hadn’t dealt with a fae in a very long time. They were notoriously secretive and difficult to track, their magic working in ways that confounded even the most experienced supernatural hunters.
“What’s she doing here?” Mercy asked, more to herself than to anyone else.
The doctor set his tablet down, his gaze serious. “That’s the question, isn’t it? We’ve stabilized her, but it’s clear she’s been through something intense. We’re still trying to piece together what happened before you found her.”
Hunter’s jaw tightened. “She was being drained. The vampire and the witch were using her life force for their own power.”
Mercy’s stomach twisted at the thought.A fae, subjected to that?No wonder her essence had been so faint. If they had drained enough of her magic, they could have completely erased her shifter nature.What were they trying to achieve?It was a troubling thought and one that would need answers.
