Hunters: Eli and Sarel

Elijah Crawford wasn't on his territory the night he caught scent of a child's terror, the stench of death, a man's lust. Not that it stopped him. That sort of thing would never stop him…not when it came to a child.
He prowled around the ramshackle house in Mississippi, his eyes narrowed and grim as he curled his hands into fists. Ten seconds sooner…even five…and he could have saved the woman as well.
But it was too later for her now.
The child's scream tore the air as her father stumbled out of the kitchen, drunk and laughing, staring at her. The look in his eyes was one of hot, hungry lust--the kind look a man should never have in his eyes when he looked at a child.
Eli leaped from the window to the front door in one single bound, the blood in his cool body starting to pump hotter and faster as a familiar, uncontrollable rage filled him.
Striking out, Eli kicked the door down, his fangs emerging. Taking a deep breath, Eli shoved the rage back before he looked at the screaming child who was splattered with her mama's blood. "Sleep," he crooned quietly, smiling gently. Her lashes fluttered and she fell in a boneless heap to the floor.
Eli smiled. "Invite me in."
"Come inside," he whispered, his voice thick.
The sheer, dumbstruck look on the bastard's face had Eli's lips curling in amusement as the thoughts ran through the man's drunken mind…who is this…why did I invite him in?
"You did it so I could kill you." Eli smiled, a cold, cruel smile and his eyes narrowed as the man wheeled around, fear penetrating the drunken haze.
There is an animal inside mortals, one that recognizes the bigger monster, the predator, and he knew he was staring at death in some small part of his mind.
Eli laughed as the man rallied and the fight welled up inside him. No quick death for this one…he was a blood relation to that pretty child, no doubt. A blood relation--it was in the scent of his blood, the slope of his brow, the coppery, golden color of his hair.
No–not a quick death.


Later, as he washed the blood from his face and hands, Eli stared at his grim reflection. The child still slept in the other room. He would be taking her away. Even in her sleep, she was restless, terrified…she dreamt of a sister. In those dreams, she cried out for her. But where this sister was, Eli didn't know.
Alive and well; safe, he hoped.
But the child was lost to her. Eli would see to it that the little girl never knew pain, never knew this sort of fear again.
Poor little lost one.
Terrified screams came ripping from her throat the moment he touched her. Then she threw herself at him, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck, and he could feel brittle bones, smell her unwashed body.
Underfed, uncared for…Hot tears stung his eyes and burned a path down his cheeks as she sobbed brokenly, inconsolably.
"Shhh…" he murmured, rocking her back and forth, stroking her tangled, deep red hair. Working her back, just a little, Eli cupped her face in his hand and forced her to stare into his eyes as he whispered, "Sleep, pretty child. When you wake, things will be better."
Once the mantle of sleep fell over her, Eli forced his way into her young mind and took the memory of the night and broke it, erased it, until it was gone forever. It had simply not happened. The child would never have any knowledge of it. Some things, even time could not heal.


Power rippled through the air.
Eli stood staring up at the moon as Tori and Declan crossed the boundaries of his territory. His heart was too heavy for this–but how could he turn her away, when he hungered for her so desperately?
But sad frightened eyes, the stench of blood and death clung to him.
He was still there nearly an hour later when Tori found him and stood waiting for him to turn to her with that slow, feline curl of his lips. When he didn't, she started to move toward him, only to have Declan's hands on her shoulders hold her in place.
"Rough time, Eli?"
The rich music of Ireland still rolled through the cop's voice, danced on the air. Taking his eyes from the moon, Eli turned his head and stared at them, revealing a somber, grief ravaged face.
Misreading the look, Declan swore softly and said, "Eli, we can't save them all."
"I did save her, the child, that is. The one that counted most. Her mother, well, her mother kept her there." His voice was rusty and his throat felt tight with emotion, all over a child…one child, out of how many? "I did not get there in time to save her mother. And I don't know that I bloody care. She kept her there, Tori. Allowed her to be beaten, starved, and she would have been raped.
She died a few nights ago--and I don't care."
Slim, pale arms wrapped around his waist and Tori rested her head on his shoulder from behind.
Eli stood there in silence as she held him while he grieved.