Hunters without formal territories had a tendency to just roam, looking for trouble in areas where no Master controlled things.
Sometimes, it was damned monotonous, but it kept him busy. Plus, if he was out on patrol, sooner or later, he would come across trouble. Lately, he was strung so tight, trouble was just what he needed.
A good fight just might clear his head a little.
He couldn’t leave, though.
It wasn’t that anybody would stop him. He just couldn’t leave. Whatever it was that kept him from leaving was some mess of his own, but he couldn’t figure out what in the hell the problem was.
How he was supposed to handle it.
One thing was sure, he had to figure that answer out. Excelsior was supposed to be where he came when he needed downtime. Not home, really. But the closest thing to home he had.
A safe haven. Quiet. Controlled. A place where none of them had to live behind the normal personas that they projected to the mortal world. Where they could just be who they were and not worry about anything else.
He loved coming back here and didn’t even mind all that much when they started drafting him into helping the regular instructors. For the most part, he felt at peace here, even if he did still find himself looking for Ana Morell, a fucking year after she’d left.
But the peace he’d needed to find, hoped to find, expected to find, had eluded him this trip, and he was about to climb out of his skin just from how fucking edgy he was. It was like the night of the full moon, only worse, and it only affected him.
He stormed out of his rooms with a scowl, his mood downright toxic. A couple of the people he passed by took one look at his face and cut a wide berth around him. He knew it and he didn’t care. He wasn’t on rotation to teach today, and he’d steer clear of the school itself and anyplace where he’d come in contact with the students, but he’d be damned if he stayed inside his room another minute.
He had some vague idea in mind about the gym. Maybe he could find a sparring partner and work some of this tension off . . .
But his feet led him elsewhere. To the lower levels under the main school, to an area nobody but the teachers and Hunters ever saw. He found himself in Kelsey Hughes’s office, her real office, not the one she used on the rare occasion she had to be headmistress for the mortal world.
This room, while definitely an office, had things that just wouldn’t fit into the normal persona Kelsey projected to the mortal world. A sword hung over her chair, clearly old, painstakingly cared for. Other weapons and artifacts adorned the walls. Bookshelves lined the walls, holding ancient, hand-bound books, protected from dust and carelessness by gleaming glass fronts. Those books held a written account of the history of the Hunters, going back for centuries. A great deal of them were written in languages that hadn’t been spoken in centuries.
It was a soothing room, though, or at least it normally seemed that way.
Not so much today.
In the quiet, empty office, he paced back and forth until he wouldn’t have been surprised to see a path worn through the carpet.
“Kelsey’s not in right now. She’s got a class.”
Glancing up, he met Cori Marcum’s gaze. She lingered in the doorway, eying him warily. “I can see she isn’t here, thanks.”
“She . . . ah . . . she may not be back tonight.”
He bit back a pithy remark and just nodded. She frowned at him and then left in silence. Too much silence, that deafening silence that weighed down on a man and threatened to drive him nuts. The skin along his spine itched and he could feel his muscles twitching with the urge to shift. Shift and run.
Stopping in his tracks, he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and swore. “What in the hell is going on?”
Fuck. He could hear the damn growl in his throat. Storming across the room, he jerked open the door to the restroom and crossed to the sink. He paused, staring at his
Sometimes, it was damned monotonous, but it kept him busy. Plus, if he was out on patrol, sooner or later, he would come across trouble. Lately, he was strung so tight, trouble was just what he needed.
A good fight just might clear his head a little.
He couldn’t leave, though.
It wasn’t that anybody would stop him. He just couldn’t leave. Whatever it was that kept him from leaving was some mess of his own, but he couldn’t figure out what in the hell the problem was.
How he was supposed to handle it.
One thing was sure, he had to figure that answer out. Excelsior was supposed to be where he came when he needed downtime. Not home, really. But the closest thing to home he had.
A safe haven. Quiet. Controlled. A place where none of them had to live behind the normal personas that they projected to the mortal world. Where they could just be who they were and not worry about anything else.
He loved coming back here and didn’t even mind all that much when they started drafting him into helping the regular instructors. For the most part, he felt at peace here, even if he did still find himself looking for Ana Morell, a fucking year after she’d left.
But the peace he’d needed to find, hoped to find, expected to find, had eluded him this trip, and he was about to climb out of his skin just from how fucking edgy he was. It was like the night of the full moon, only worse, and it only affected him.
He stormed out of his rooms with a scowl, his mood downright toxic. A couple of the people he passed by took one look at his face and cut a wide berth around him. He knew it and he didn’t care. He wasn’t on rotation to teach today, and he’d steer clear of the school itself and anyplace where he’d come in contact with the students, but he’d be damned if he stayed inside his room another minute.
He had some vague idea in mind about the gym. Maybe he could find a sparring partner and work some of this tension off . . .
But his feet led him elsewhere. To the lower levels under the main school, to an area nobody but the teachers and Hunters ever saw. He found himself in Kelsey Hughes’s office, her real office, not the one she used on the rare occasion she had to be headmistress for the mortal world.
This room, while definitely an office, had things that just wouldn’t fit into the normal persona Kelsey projected to the mortal world. A sword hung over her chair, clearly old, painstakingly cared for. Other weapons and artifacts adorned the walls. Bookshelves lined the walls, holding ancient, hand-bound books, protected from dust and carelessness by gleaming glass fronts. Those books held a written account of the history of the Hunters, going back for centuries. A great deal of them were written in languages that hadn’t been spoken in centuries.
It was a soothing room, though, or at least it normally seemed that way.
Not so much today.
In the quiet, empty office, he paced back and forth until he wouldn’t have been surprised to see a path worn through the carpet.
“Kelsey’s not in right now. She’s got a class.”
Glancing up, he met Cori Marcum’s gaze. She lingered in the doorway, eying him warily. “I can see she isn’t here, thanks.”
“She . . . ah . . . she may not be back tonight.”
He bit back a pithy remark and just nodded. She frowned at him and then left in silence. Too much silence, that deafening silence that weighed down on a man and threatened to drive him nuts. The skin along his spine itched and he could feel his muscles twitching with the urge to shift. Shift and run.
Stopping in his tracks, he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and swore. “What in the hell is going on?”
Fuck. He could hear the damn growl in his throat. Storming across the room, he jerked open the door to the restroom and crossed to the sink. He paused, staring at his
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