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

by Nicole Zoltack

  “Nice.”

  “Nice? That’s all you can say? It took me over three years of hard work and training to be able to get it. It’s a lot more than just nice.”

  Darius chuckles. “It’s so easy to get you going.”

  “Oh, hush.”

  We eat the rest of our food and clean up, and then I use a speck of fairy dust to take us to the back office at Luna's.

  Immediately, I know something's off. The entire place is ransacked. Filing cabinets are lying on their sides on the floor, papers are strewn about, and the desk chair has been broken.

  All of the medicine bottles from the metal cart with rows and rows of shelving along the back wall are all over the place. The cart being shifted forward allows me to spy another back door. It’s not easy to shift the cart away more because of all of the stuff on the floor, but I manage, and I yank the door open wide enough to squeeze through.

  There’s Luna. Her neck is twisted all the way around, clearly broken. Her eyes are glassy, and blood trickles from the corners of her lips. I don’t have to feel for her pulse to know she doesn’t have one.

  She’s been killed.

  I bend down to close her eyes and survey the room. This is clearly where she does all of her magical work.

  Er, where she did her magical work.

  “Do you think she was able to finish making the weapon?” Darius asks.

  “Would they have a reason to kill her if she had? They just could’ve taken the weapon or destroyed it. It’s not as if they… They didn’t…” I can’t bring myself to say it.

  Darius squeezes my shoulder.

  There are all kinds of potions and vials. Most are shattered on the tiled floor, the contents everywhere.

  On her desk is a small leather-bound book. Inside, I find all kinds of drawings of a scepter. The stone would’ve been on top, the wand portion gold with tendrils reaching up to hold the gemstone.

  Hmm. The original scepter, Skyfall, had been made from rocks. Why would she have gone so far from the previous design?

  One by one, I open the desk drawers and rifle through the contents. There are more books, ledgers of which potions she’s made and which she still has to make, ingredient lists, and more, but nothing else about the scepter.

  And no sign of any of the items she meant to use to fashion the weapon.

  Worst of all, the stone is nowhere to be found.

  “They killed her. Because of me. If Mirella hadn’t been busy, she might be the one dead.”

  “You don’t know that,” Darius says.

  “She’s strong. I get that, but these creatures… They aren’t like other paranormal creatures. They’re evil incarnate. They have to be killed.”

  “I know. Why do you think I’m standing here with you.”

  Just like that, I feel very much alone. Darius isn’t here because of me. He’s not here because of any feelings he has for me. I’ve managed to convince him that the cainians have to be killed and that his precious HEX U won’t do anything about them. That’s it. That’s all there is to it.

  The realization hurts almost as much as the guilt I feel over Luna’s death.

  “She deserved more. Just like Mason and Gracie,” I murmur.

  “So we’ll avenge her too.”

  “But we only have…” I nod at him to insinuate the citrine piece. I doubt any of the cainians are here, and I don’t know what they know and don’t know, but I’m not about to give them more information if I can help it. “We have nowhere to go and nothing else to go on. We’re still weaponless against them. How can we possibly win?”

  Darius says nothing. Of course he’s silent. What is there to say? Nothing. Nothing at all.

  Chapter 23

  We spend hours going through absolutely everything in both rooms, putting everything up, searching every nook and cranny. I hoped there might be a safe or another hidden door but no so luck. There's no sign of the stone or any weapon that Luna might've been working on.

  Once everything is back to rights, I pause at the spot where Luna told me about the cainians.

  “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this, Luna. It’s my fault you died.”

  The door opens, and in walks Sharon. I immediately give Darius a look to let him know she’s a human.

  Her eyes are red, and she blows her nose. “Luna was amazing,” she says quietly.

  I gape at her and then nod wordlessly.

  “She was my cousin,” Sharon continues. “I’m not a witch like her, but I admired her greatly. That’s why I wanted to become a pharmacist too. Luna used to give a little extra kick to certain medicines to better help the patients, especially those with mental illnesses. I can’t do that, of course, and I hate that she’s gone, but it’s not your fault.”

  I’m even more speechless.

  “All she ever wanted to do her entire life was to help people.” Sharon sniffs. “I used to tease her and say her name should’ve been Glinda. She used to hate the Wizard of Oz, but I loved it. We were as close as sisters, so she dressed up as the Wicked Witch, and I was Glinda. She didn’t want to be the Good Witch. She never saw herself like that, but she only ever wanted to help. If she died helping you, then she died a good death. It’s what she would’ve wanted.”

  “It’s not what I wanted for her!”

  “And that’s all the more reason why she wouldn’t want either of us to cry over her.”

  “I’m not…” I trail off as I realize my cheeks are wet. My hand wipes them away. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Sharon manages a smile. “I’m sorry for yours.”

  Without warning, she embraces me. I stand there, rigid in her arms, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

  “If you want anything of hers, ask, and I’ll see what I can do. Her husband, Jackson, will be able to find the potions or ingredients.”

  “Does he know?”

  “I just got off the phone with him.”

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  “Nonsense. You’re Rebel. Luna mentioned you a few times.”

  “She did?”

  “She told me that you would barter goods from time to time. I’m sure Jackson will be willing to barter with you in the future too.”

  “I… Thank you. I’m fine right now.”

  Sharon wipes a tear away. “Jackson will be here any minute. I’m glad you stopped by. I… I wouldn’t have known how to get in contact with you.”

  I force a smile. “We should be going. I don’t want to intrude. I’m sure Jackson’s very upset.”

  “If you must.” Sharon gives us a watery smile, and we leave, returning to my place.

  “What do you think we should do now?” Darius asks as I go to put the key in the lock.

  “You must hear me out,” a familiar female voice calls out.

  I glance all around, and my jaw drops. “Angie? Is that you?”

  The ghost appears through the door to my place.

  “Yes, it’s me. The potion worked after all, just not in the way we wanted it to.”

  “Are you all right? Have you seen Doyle?”

  “Yes, I’ve seen Doyle. He’s going well. He, ah, wants me to apologize to you for attacking. His grief made him go crazy.”

  “We saw you die!”

  “Yes, well, becoming a ghost doesn’t happen immediately apparently. Or at least it didn’t happen right away for me. Anyhow, none of that matters. Doyle and I can be together because of you.”

  I blink a few times and then shake my head. No way am I going to even try to wrap my head around a werewolf and a ghost having a relationship.

  “To thank you, I’ve been doing what I can to find out about the cainians,” she continues.

  “Wow, word must be spreading that I’m looking for them,” I murmur.

  “Yes and no. Ghosts can… We hear things, and we can sense things in ways other than humans can. It’s hard to explain, but my point is that I found a very old witch who I think might be able to help you.”

  �
��Who is she?”

  “Morgana Sangrey.”

  I glance at Darius, who blinks.

  “I didn’t think she was still alive,” he murmurs. “She has to be at least a thousand years old.”

  “If not older,” Angie says. “I didn’t ask. I think she’ll be able to tell you even more than I can.”

  “What can you tell us?” I ask.

  “At their height, there had been two-hundred and twenty-two cainians spread throughout the world. Some say the number had actually been three times that."

  “Six six six,” I murmur.

  The ghost of Angie nods. For some reason, I think ghosts should have a bluishness to them, but she’s faintly glowing pink. It suits her.

  “The devil’s number,” she says. “You will be happy to know that their numbers have vastly been deduced over the years.”

  “Who killed them?” Darius asks.

  I snort. “My guess is natural causes,” I say. “They can’t easily be killed, remember?”

  “The scepter?”

  “No,” Angie says. “Natural causes is correct, although not old age. I do not know if time can kill them, but natural disasters have killed most of them. Now, only thirteen remain.”

  Thirteen. That's doable, right?

  Not without a means to kill them. I’m still weaponless.

  “Where are they?” I demand.

  “They move constantly, and they typically stay alone to cover more territory. If they do come together, it’s usually in groups of threes rather than pairs. They cause terror and chaos wherever they go, and they seem to have an effect on people and paranormal beings. There are a lot more violent crimes among both humans and paranormal beings wherever they are located.”

  Everything I hear about the cainians only makes me want to kill them that much more, but it's also terrifying. They're so very evil that their evilness spreads to others. They're an infection, a disease, and the earth must be rid of them.

  “Anything else?” I ask.

  “That is all I know. Go and find Morgana. She lives on an island off the coast of Italy." Angie smiles at me. "You've made me very happy, Rebel, and I'm so sorry we took the potion by force. If you ever have need of Doyle or me, just ask, and we will come."

  “Oh, no. I don’t need you for this, but thank you. I never expected to be given so much hope.”

  “Hope is very powerful.” Angie’s smile grows. “It’s almost as powerful as love.”

  I snort, but Angie’s ghost is fading. She’s not moving on, not like Falfar, the elf ghost, had, and I doubt she’ll be able to move on until Doyle dies. Their love is powerful. That’s for sure.

  Powerful enough to bring her back as a ghost? Maybe the potion hadn’t done anything but kill her. Maybe the magic of love brought her back.

  Listen to me. I’m becoming a sentimental romantic. Ugh.

  “Are you ready to see a thousand-year-old witch?” I ask Darius.

  “Why not? Let’s go.”

  The island is beautiful, the water an incredible blue the likes of which I’ve never seen before. The beaches are all white sand, majestic and serene. It feels as if this entire place is set off outside of time. It’s almost too peaceful.

  A single woman stands on the beach. Her white hair is long, reaching her elbows. The breeze billows her strands behind her, but the fabric of her blue sundress does not move, nor does she move her head as we approach.

  “Darius Devonshire and Tiffany Rose Quinn known as Rebel. I’ve been expecting you.”

  Her voice has an ageless quality to it, as does her face as she turns to see us, but her eyes, those reveal her age. It might just be me, but I think she looks tired, drained. People aren’t meant to live that long, not even witches.

  “You knew we were coming,” Darius says.

  “Yes, indeed. Come now, witch. Give me the piece you have.” Morgana holds out her hand.

  Darius coughs. “Rebel.”

  “You entrusted the piece to a human?” Morgana’s tone is flat, without emotion, and yet I still get the feeling she disapproves.

  “Considering this human is going to be the one to wield the weapon… But you know that, don’t you?”

  “I know you seek to destroy the cainians, yes.”

  “And you are going to help me?” I ask hopefully.

  “That is why you came here, is it not?”

  "Yes." My hand goes into my pouch, and my fingers curl around the citrine. "Can you tell me about its properties?"

  “I need to see the stone first to know what it is,” Morgana says dryly.

  I remove the stone from my pouch and give it to her.

  "Ah, the citrine. Now, this is a true jewel. They help to realize all your dreams, makes all your desires come true. Wealth, happiness, success. A rare gem in this world to have one so perfectly pure and balanced. This might well be the most powerful citrine in the entire world.”

  “Wow,” I murmur.

  “As you can imagine, they’re rather dangerous too, considering people have new dreams all the time and not all of them are for the betterment of mankind.” Morgana’s clear eyes seem to see right through me.

  I shiver. Will she be the final gatekeeper? Will she help or hinder me?

  After a moment, she blinks. “Follow me,” she says, and she leads us to a small cottage.

  Everything is earthenware from the bowls and utensils hanging from the ceiling, the potted plants, the stools, the tables, everything. The entire place feels so very quaint that I can’t help feeling at peace here.

  Morgana carefully places the citrine on the counter and adds more and more pieces to the collection.

  “I knew you would come, and I have gathered all of this in anticipation,” she murmurs.

  “What is all this?” I ask.

  “Why, the other pieces of Skyfall I’ve been able to acquire over the past countless years. It certainly helps that the cainians are only active every so many years. Even evil needs to rest at some point.”

  “They need to rest eternally,” I mutter.

  Morgana eyes me before adding some regular rocks to the collection of gemstones. “They must be stopped, yes. I’ve had others try before, but they all failed. Some managed to kill one or two, but then their courage would fail, or their weapon would, or the cainians simply overwhelmed and bested them.”

  “And ate them,” Darius mumbles.

  “Yes, most likely.”

  “Is it true that their numbers have thinned to thirteen?” I ask.

  Morgana nods. “It is not uncommon for them to attack a town and leave a survivor.”

  “Why?” I ask, baffled.

  “They are not merely cannibals,” Morgana explains. “They need to survive on a healthy dose of fear too.”

  I gulp. Fighting them is going to be terrifying. There’s no getting around that, and if that terror will only increase their might…

  “I’m doomed,” I mumble.

  “Do not fret so,” Morgana admonishes. “This weapon will not fail you.”

  “Can you fashion two?” I blurt out.

  “No.”

  “But…” I glance at Darius.

  “Two weapons will fail. You will die in your attempt, and I will have to regain the parts to the weapons, a feat I have grown quite weary of. No. All of this combined will nearly be as powerful as the original Skyfall.”

  “Why didn’t you just retrieve the scepter?” Darius asks.

  “Fortune seekers and thrill mongrels have been breaking off pieces of Skyfall since the arcane dragon first gained possession of it. I would have needed the pieces regardless, and each time more was broken off. This, though, this…”

  Morgana has lined the regular rocks together with the gemstones curling in a half-arc above it. She waves her hand above them, and the rocks fuse together to form the rod portion. Gradually, the rocks reach up to infuse the gemstones. The citrine the topmost jewel warps to become even more oval until the tip is a sharp shard.

  “There
you go,” Morgana murmurs. “Earthrise. For the Earth shall rise up and entomb the cainians, banishing away forevermore their wickedness, their depravity, their corruption.”

  I accept Earthrise from her. “Thank you.”

  “Do not thank me until the last one is dead. The sand in the hourglass of your life is flowing much faster now and will continue to do so until you kill each of the cainians or until one kills you. Will you have your revenge? Or will they feast on your flesh and drink your blood? They did not debase your brother’s and his wife’s bodies like that, but yours they most certainly will.”

  “They most certainly will want to,” I say firmly, “but they will not. They can starve and die of thirst and just plain die.”

  “Go then,” Morgana says as she climbs onto the counter. She slowly lies down and places her hands on her chest. Her eyes close.

  Is she dying? I hope not because if I fail, the Earth will need her to put the weapon back together again so that another will have the chance to kill the cainians.

  Think positively. You won’t fail.

  I sure hope I won’t.

  Chapter 24

  The weight of the scepter is deceptively light. All of those rocks should make it heavy. The staff portion is decently thick, and the rocks hadn’t been tiny ones. I play around with the scepter a few times, trying to get accustomed to it.

  “Do you think it has all of the properties of the other scepter?” I ask Darius.

  “Meaning…”

  “Having its own magic.”

  “You can try.”

  “Try how? I don’t know how to wield magic.”

  “Don’t look at me. My magic comes from within me, not from somewhere or something else.”

  "I know that, but… You seriously don't have any pointers?"

  “Do you feel anything?”

  “I feel the scepter. It’s a little warm.”

  “No tingly sensation?”

  “Not really. Why? Does magic tingle?” I ask.

  “Not my magic, but I’m wondering how a non-magical person can feel magic.” He shrugs. “Magic has always been a part of my life.”

  “Yeah, well, it entered mine at sixteen and in a very violent and terrible manner.”