Hunter's Revenge: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Rebel, Supernatural Bounty Hunter Book 2)

by Nicole Zoltack

  I don’t bother to say anything, not even goodbye, already off to the races back to Darius. He’s still in bed. The bowl is filled with puke, and overflow has spilled onto the carpet. His eyes are closed, and he doesn’t react as I call his name and shake his arm. His skin is cold and clammy, and he’s so gray that I’m afraid he… that he’s…

  My hand touches his chest. Ever so slightly, my palm rises and falls. He’s breathing.

  I shove my arm beneath his head and force him up enough that I feel safe putting the potion to his lips. A little trickles down the sides of his chins, but he’s swallowing. Once he's drunk all of it, I have him recline again. How long am I supposed to wait for the potion to kick in? What if it doesn't work? What if I took too long? What if…

  I drag a chair from the dining room table to the side of my bed and sit and wait and watch. Eventually, my head droops, and my hand falls onto Darius’s.

  His hand squeezing mine wakes me. I’m not sure how long we slept for, but I’m so happy I could kiss him. I don’t, of course. I just tuck him in, instruct him to rest some more, give him permission to make himself some food or order take out, and leave. It might not stop him from leaving, but I lock the door behind me.

  Now that Darius is poisoned no more, it’s time for me to un-curse the stone.

  Which means my first step is to see a certain fairy. I need more fairy dust.

  Chapter 18

  I have to gravel and apologize profusely to Vinca, and she only forgives me because she still hasn't picked out a dress. A bunch of her friends, including Misty the mermaid, and I go out. It takes two hours, but finally, she picks the most beautiful and perfect gown for a fairy. A beautiful green gown with a cape draping behind her from the necklace around her throat, all chiffon and silk and lace, far fancier than anything I ever saw before, let alone wore. I think the last time I wore a dress was before my brother had been murdered.

  But now that she’s happy, Vinca gives me enough fairy dust that I can travel anywhere I want six or maybe seven times. Immediately, I head to the desert. I find the nearest city and walk around until I find a boxer’s hangout. Sure enough, I can spy a few werewolves in their midst. They’re always the hairiest ones.

  I then head to a butcher’s shop and get three steaks. They’re still bleeding as I return to the hangout. The werewolves sniff and eye me, and I grin, holding up the bag as if it’s a doggie treat bag.

  One of them recognizes me. “Rebel.”

  “Yep.”

  “Why are you here?” another growls.

  “I just want to know about the glatisant. I heard it’s in this desert somewhere. Frostclaw is his name.”

  The werewolves glance at each other.

  “You can have the meat regardless,” I say dryly.

  “That makes sense,” one mumbles.

  “What does?”

  “A town’s been abandoned, all of the people killed. We weren’t sure what caused it.”

  “What town?” I ask sharper than I intended.

  “Hilfalls. About a five-hour drive from here.”

  “Northwest,” the third says. He licks his lips.

  “Enjoy, boys. And thank you.”

  That had been almost too easy. I’m afraid the next part is going to be that much harder.

  Hilfalls carries a sense of wretchedness. The entire town seems dead. Desolation and loneliness drift on the wind. Dirt and dust cover everything. An eerie silence echoes the isolation as I creep forward. Dead bodies litter the streets, their faces contorted with pain, their bodies covered with blood long since dried. My stomach churns at the sight.

  Many of the windows are broken, the houses ransacked, furniture overturned, possessions of the dead long gone. Thieves preying on the dead. Rodents of convenience, stealers of heart and soul, sucking the revere from those no longer living. Damn vultures.

  The sound of rushing water draws me to a cracked fountain. Water still drips, mixing with the dirt and muddies up my feet. This must be recent destruction. Frostclaw is close by.

  Behind the fountain, I discover another body. This one still has a knife in one hand, the other clutching his swollen coin purse. One of the thieves. I’m glad he got what he deserved. Deep purple bruises formed on his skin in the shape of a small broken “v.”

  Stones litter the ground, pieces of the houses. This glatisant has certainly done damage to the entire town, not just its people. It must be one fearsome creature.

  A low rumbling sound whispers on the wind, but as I turn in a circle, I can’t distinguish the source. A sudden rush of wind whooshes from above my head, and the clattering of roofs startles me. I nearly lose my balance as Frostclaw lands in front of me.

  A hideous creature, part snake, lion, leopard, and deer. The serpent head and neck glance around, long and sleek, even turning its head completely around. The small beady eyes on either side of its face forced the creature to constantly move its head to resume focus on me.

  Frostclaw continually barks, sounding like a wild pack of hounds set loose on a hunt. It has yellow eyes with the darkest black orbs, small nose slits, and, despite the scales on its neck, a sleek, almost smooth appearance. Its small tongue continually flickers in and out of its pink mouth, dripping with venom.

  Its body is orange-yellow, speckled with rosettes, like a leopard, and turns to a lighter buff color toward its haunches. Swatting the black tuft of its tail at swirling bugs from the rotting corpses, the glatisant continues to eye me, and I shiver. This is not a monster. This creature has intelligence.

  It paws the ground. Its short legs end with the hooves of a deer. The two separate cleats made the broken “v” impressions on the bodies.

  Without warning, the creature darts forward, its body barreling toward me. I sidestep and bring up the sword I traded a dwarf for before coming on this venture, but Frostclaw continues forward, running away.

  It killed so many innocents already. Is it teasing me, testing me?

  It turns back around, as if waiting for me, and when I raise the sword, the creature rears before jumping over some stones and behind a building, out of sight.

  Now there is no question about it. The creature wants me to give chase. So I do just that. The barking never ceases as I pass many more bodies, my anger at the creature mounting. Although no one I knew died, the idea that an intelligent creature could knowingly seek out and destroy an entire town causes my stomach to clench and my teeth to grind. A fleeting thought of Mason and Gracie make my throat swell up, and I burst forward.

  Judging from the barking, the mutant hybrid is hiding behind the next building. O pass it and hurry down the next alley. The creature’s barking becomes louder, and it lowers its reptilian head just before I slash. The glatisant backs up several steps as I bring the sword back up, but the creature turns and runs before I could follow through with the arc. I barely miss chopping off the hairy tuft.

  Round and round the ruined town we run. Frostclaw seems to enjoy the chase, constantly turning its head around to see if I still follow and never showing any signs of wearing down nor making any attempt to fight back. It’s almost like this is some kind of game. Well, I’m not laughing. And I’m done playing.

  I spy a ladder. I shove the sword back into its sheath and climb. When I reach the roof, I quickly aim and fire. The arrow narrowly misses the animal. It stops and glares at me, its tongue flicking upward. Backtracking, the creature rams its shoulder into the ladder with such force that the ladder falls, and the entire wooden building shudders. I leap to the next rooftop and fire again. The creature runs forward, and I pursue from above, trying to find a decent shot, but I don’t want to waste all my arrows. It would be so wonderful if a word could command them to return? Boomerang arrows. Witches might be able to do that. They have magic after all, and I don’t. It almost makes me wish I could drink a potion to turn me into a magical creature so long as the potion wouldn’t kill me. Poor Angie.

  Quickly, I leap to another building, this one higher. My fing
ers grip the stone roof, and I claw my way to the top. Precious seconds pass, and the creature continues its course. I pull myself up and glance around. Frostclaw nears the edge of the town and zooms toward the nearby forest. I fire one more shot, but the creature’s tail knocks it away before it hides behind some trees.

  Wicked monster!

  I race to the edge of the roof, toss down my weapons and quiver, grab onto the ledge, and drop down to the ground, ducking into a roll as I land to prevent injury. Coughing on the dust, I’m forced to pause a moment to catch my breath, and then I retrieve the sword and quiver and grab the last discarded arrow. I’m surprised my endurance is lasting this long. I really need to get back to the gym more regularly and maybe add more cardio even though I’ll never be a cardio bunny.

  As swiftly as I can, I thunder through the forest, slashing through the underbrush. The barking sounds all around her. A sudden movement on the forest floor catches my eye, and I stab. A small garden variety snake dangles from the sword. My foot removes the dead animal as the barking becomes louder, and a sharp pain pinches my right arm. I howl and drop the sword. The venom quickly spreads, and my right arm refuses to move.

  The poison must be paralytic.

  I whirl around and shove the arrow into Frostclaw’s neck. The creature yelps and runs away, the arrow still lodged.

  After grabbing the sword, I give chase. My one arm hangs like a dead weight at my side, causing my balance to shift, slowing me down.

  Why isn’t the amethyst working? Or is it preventing the venom from spreading to the rest of my body?

  I trip over a tree root, landing on my stomach, and the remaining arrows in my quiver tumbled over my head. A heavy weight presses onto my back, and a snake slithers through my hair and onto my shoulder. The forked tongue licks my ear before it reaches forward, trying to grab an arrow in its mouth. Stretching so far allows me to see another arrow protruding from its neck. I attempt to lift myself up and shove the creature from my back, but my right arm refuses to cooperate, and the creature weighs too much for me to roll it off.

  Not willing to stop fighting, I jab wildly with the sword. Yelps again replace the barking, music to my ears. Frostclaw retreats half a step, enough for me to roll myself beneath the creature as I bring the sword in a sweeping arc and slice off its head.

  The yelps turn into a loud shriek, coming from the monster’s belly, and the deer hooves dance before buckling as dark liquid sprays from its neck wound. Blood coats me as I climb to my feet and thrust the sword into the creature’s belly and again into its heart. Finally, the glatisant stops moving, the shrieks ceasing.

  I put the sword away and wipe some blood from my face. My fingers begin to tingle, and I try to form a fist. My fingers hardly move.

  The blood is poisonous too.

  Slowly, I reach into my pouch and touch the amethyst. Strange warmth pulsates from the gem, and the heat spreads throughout my body, through my fingers to my chest, even to my numb right arm. Gripping the gemstone with fingers that now move surer, I rub the amethyst where the snake bit me. A sharp electric shock of pain causes me to cry out. The scent of burning flesh wafts to my nose, and I gag. Black liquid bubbles from the wound and drips onto the ground, causing a sizzling sound when it hit some grass, burning it to ash. Finally, I can feel my arm again.

  I untuck my leather top from my pants to reach the undershirt and tear off a large portion. In case all of Frostclaw’s body is poisonous, I dare not risk touching the head directly. I wrap it in the cloth. On the way back through the forest, I pick up my arrows to deposit them back into my quiver, but they fell through, and I have to collect them again. Wonderful. I’ll need a new one, but I guess I can’t complain too much. I survived Frostclaw’s poison. Darius survived his bout.

  Things are starting to come together finally.

  This is a major win.

  My revenge will almost be here.

  Chapter 19

  The relief I feel as I drop off the glatisant’s head so that the stone can be cured cannot be understated. I feel like I’m checking so many boxes off a checklist lately.

  Kill the glatisant. Check.

  Bring the head to Luna. Check.

  Save Darius’s stupid hide. Check.

  Find a cainian.

  Kill a cainian.

  Kill all of the cainians.

  Yeah, I still have a ton to do yet, starting with checking on Darius. Maybe I should've done that before dropping off the glatisant's head with Luna, but I had been literally in and out. I popped into her back room, left the bloody bag on her desk, and used fairy dust to arrive outside my home.

  I still think I should consider moving. At least no one else seems to be lurking about. If I do move, I am definitely going to keep my new address on the down-low.

  I unlock the door and enter my house. The door creaks as I shut it behind me. “Darius?”

  He’s sitting on my couch, watching TV, which he shuts off before I can see what’s on. “Rebel.”

  "I cure you, and you turn into a couch potato?" I joke as I flop down next to him.

  “I don’t know what happened. I just woke up, and my face was all wet. Well, just by my mouth and chin, but I felt fine. Better than fine. I feel incredible.”

  “Whoops. Sorry. I should’ve wiped your mouth.” My hand is a little too close to his on the couch, and I discreetly pull away. “How long did you sleep for?”

  “I have no idea, but I only woke up about an hour ago.”

  Good. He has no recollection of his squeezing my hand, of our holding hands.

  “You slept forever and a day,” I deadpan.

  “Sure feels like it.” He grins. “And I have you to thank.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “No, it really wasn’t nothing. Don’t downplay it.”

  “If you’re going to start about that light—”

  “No. I just can’t thank you enough.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you should start using your brain more. Shifting through dragon dung. Seriously? What gave you that idea?”

  “I could see the stone. Sunlight was reflecting off it. I didn’t do it for fun.”

  “You never should’ve gone back there in the first place.”

  “We’ve been over this. It’s done and over with, and you have the stone. Isn’t that enough?” Darius stretches and casually rests an arm around the back of the couch. He’s not touching me, and I shift forward. His smirk is wide. He knows exactly what I’m doing.

  I mutter a curse.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t leave the citrine with Luna, the witch.”

  “Do you think both gemstones are required to be able to make a weapon capable of killing them?”

  “I have no idea, but it would make sense, right?”

  “Go on back and give it to her then.”

  I wince.

  “What?”

  “I went to see her before checking on you.”

  “Am I supposed to be upset about that?”

  “Well, I had reason to think you would be all right. Mirella made the potion for you once I gathered all of the ingredients. I had been worried for a bit.”

  “Oh, yeah? You would’ve felt guilty if I died on you, huh?”

  “I would’ve felt sorry that your stupidity killed you,” I retort.

  “Sure. Go with that.” A small smile tugs at his lips.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No.” His expression of confusion amuses me. “I made myself at home here and raided your cabinets.”

  “It’s all right. I told you to.”

  “You did? When?”

  “You actually woke up before now. I was here. It was only because you woke after I gave you the potion that I was willing to leave to kill the glatisant.”

  “The what?”

  “Luna needed its head to un-curse the stone. The first stone. Man, I hope this stone isn’t cursed too.”

  “It should’ve cursed the dragon too if he ate i
t,” Darius points out.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know.” I sigh. “Why can’t anything ever be simple?”

  “Magical beings don’t like simple. That’s a human thing.”

  "Haha.” I stick out my tongue. “You all like to over-complicate things.”

  “I think that’s your specialty, not mine.”

  “Ahem,” sounds a male voice from my bedroom area.

  I jerk to my feet. “Who else is here?” I grumble.

  “Are you two done flirting?” the voice calls.

  “We aren’t flirting,” I mutter as my hand falls away from my gun. Tapping my foot, I cross my arms. “Show yourself.”

  A ghost glides through the wall. Even in this form, I can tell he had once been an elf.

  “My name is Falfar,” he says. “You are the one who seeks to destroy the cainians, are you not?”

  “I do.” I glance at Darius.

  The witch shrugs. “He showed up shortly before you did and asked for you. I told him he could hang out until you came back, but I forgot he was here.”

  “You forgot…” The elf ghost puffs up his see-through chest. “How dare you!”

  “You were so quiet.” Darius grins.

  “You mock me?”

  I hold out my hands. “Let’s not argue. I’m here. You want to talk to me so talk.”

  The elf ghost sniffs, not that he actually needs to. “I am here to tell you what I know of the cainians.”

  “You’ve seen one?” I ask eagerly.

  “Seen one? My dear girl, I was killed by one.”

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur.

  "Yes, well, once they decide who they wish to kill, there is almost no stopping them."

  “Almost?” I cling to the word as if it’s a life raft.

  “They are more than just cruel and vicious creatures bent on destruction, hating the earth for all that they were robbed from because of their ancestor.”

  “Cain. The cainians were cursed like him, weren’t they?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. They eat only meat, drink only blood. Their strength is unparalleled. Not even a raging berserker can match a cainian’s might.”