The Hunt (Of Blood and Magic Book 2)

by Delicious David

  The journey to the peninsula had been generally uneventful, save for Luke asking a plethora of questions about basically everything they came across as they moved; skyscrapers, mobile shops, delivery trucks, ships, the taxi itself, radios. Everything. Luke had even questioned her about the currency notes lining her purse.

  When they reached the docks, Becca couldn’t help but marvel at the rich colors of the sand. Her boots let off a crunching sound as they chomped on the grainy sand with its translucent crystals. The sand and silt gleamed with golden browns and reddish-bronze. The sky above had a dark, silver luster, with dry clouds drifting lazily across the vast sky. Becca had watched Luke massage his knuckles in anticipation of what lay ahead. He seemed so self-assured, but she could tell that, occasionally, his nerves won. She couldn’t claim to understand the gravity of the weight on his chest in its fullness, but one thing she knew for sure was that they had reached the crossroads of destiny; the stakes were at the highest they could ever be, and every step mattered so much, not only for them as individuals, but also for the future of the magic realm as they would know it. They had reached that point where they couldn’t afford to fail. It would be tough, dangerous, life-threatening even, but they just had to win.

  His transformation had been fun to watch. His body had rippled all over and then dissolved into a pool of dark smoke. The body of smoke had involuted, folding in on itself like a sheet, and the body parts of a giant bat had materialized. Somehow, Luke had fused his backpack into his skin, leading to an extra layer of flesh running along the groove of the bone folded behind his back. He looked majestic, the hairs on his body sharp obsidian with tints of blue, his eyes intelligent and wide with crimson slits, his bat wings wielding unprecedented strength, flapping against his body with great force and blowing air currents in her face. Peculiarly, he seemed to see her very clearly. Even as a bat, he had somehow managed to retain his sight.

  “It's your turn,” the flying bat had said to her without moving its mouth, “Get on with it already, scaredy-cat.” She had flinched, before realizing that she had heard the voice in her head. He was communicating with her telepathically. How cool was that?

  She opened her spell book again, staring at its vast, worn pages. It had been her mother's, and for so many years she had kept it only as a reminder of her mother; a memento of some sort. Before now, it had been nothing more than an ancient, washed up the book that her mother had severely cherished, until she met Luke and looked into his eyes and felt her powers awaken. Now she flipped its pages, the metallic breeze grazing airborne sand granules against the sides of her face. She had studied the spell book all through their trip, entering a vast, untamed world of magic and wonder. Within it, she found the secrets and guidelines for rituals to make basically anything happen. Fortunately enough, the only requirement for a shrinking spell was saltwater. And there they were, at the edge of one of the largest masses of it on the planet.

  She had felt her body sway to the tune of a phantom song as her feet approached the frothing silver fringes of the ocean's waves. As the waves rose and fell, the frothing silver at the head of the waves looked to her like a large, sharp tooth, crashing to the earth like a wide steel hammer. She had reached the edge of the ocean and bent to fill a glass vial with blue-green saltwater. She had whispered the wordings of the spell into the vial, watching the golden glow of working magic glimmering around it, entwining it like a serpent made of insubstantial light. She watched the water heat up vigorously, as the color changed to pale orange, the color of the sun half an hour before sunset.

  She drank it, and then, suddenly, she had begun to feel weightless. Her belly sank and her knees shrunk. She didn't feel much different than she normally did, but the earth had sure felt closer to her eyes, and when she looked back, she had found Luke's bat form looking suddenly gigantic. She found the expressions on his sharp, bat face knotty to read, but without thinking too hard she could tell that his eyes had been mocking her. She cast him a sharp side-eye, but then she had climbed over his back and they had taken off into the liquid beyond.

  They had been flying for hours, and it had taken just a half of that time for Becca to realize that the ocean held fantastic, often underrated wonders. As they sailed over the deep blue, Becca watched the waves calm as the ocean ceased its endless roiling, smoothing out into a vast fabric of the brightest green and the deepest blue, stretching out far into the horizon, where the sun stood watching like a suspended orb of floating fire. It all looked captivatingly beautiful, especially when she started out as far as she could just to find that, at the brink to her vision, the sun would always kiss the sky.

  They passed schools of flying fish, looking resplendent with their glowing silver scales and eyes the color of corals. They even came across a dolphin, its long hull of black and grey glinting in the light of the receding sun. Luke held sturdy beneath her, flying at astonishing speed. But then, she could tell that flying under the sun and bearing the strain of maintaining this enchanted form was taking much out of him. Luke never seemed to experience weakness, but by now Becca had come to realize that this ruse only swayed the untrained eye. She had not only come to truly understand him but by virtue of the destiny they both shared as fated mates, they were so connected that sometimes she could nearly feel his thoughts on the tips of her fingers. She admired how he could hold strong, even in the face of daring circumstances. She concluded that, beyond his rare abilities and potent skill set and tremendous power levels, that was his greatest advantage. Grit. Resolve. The will to chase the goal and meet it or die trying.

  In a burst of emotion, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

  “You're awesome, Luke, and you deserve to know it!” she said to him, telepathically.

  He didn’t respond, but she didn’t need her psychic connection to know that he was beaming.

  She glanced at her compass, watching the directional arrow, even as she felt her lungs expand with the pungent fragrance of the sea and the deep marines. It smelled of salt and seaweed and liquid metals and water in a clay pot. And then, suddenly, fields of undulating greens and yellows floated into her view in the distance.

  “I see land!” she cried inside, her inner voice immeasurably ecstatic.

  “I see it, too.” Luke's voice, underlay by a chatter characteristic of bats, called back, sounding pleased.

  Soon, they crossed the threshold of the mighty waters, bursting through a swath of sandy land and then over a tall netted fence that encircled the rice fields she had seen through her binoculars. The fields were beautiful, sporting fancy terraces cultivated over rolling hills. They landed beside a vacant shed, which apparently was a store for farm implements.

  She disembarked from her hovering partner and chanted the reversal spell, returning to her true form just as Luke emerged in a large puff of smoke.

  She gazed around her, eyes wide with wonder. “These fields are stunni—”, but she didn’t get to complete her sentence, as Luke grabbed her by the chin with both hands and took her lips in his, swallowing her words with a kiss wine-sweet and deeply intoxicating.

  And there they stood, lips locked, her hands on his shoulder, his around her waist, even as the sun sank into the clouds behind them.

  ∞∞∞

  ELENA was back. Timou could tell because her hard, caustic gaze was back. And also because her orb had come back alive in its glowing purple, zipping about in the air like a fairy in heat. They hadn’t said a word after their fling the other day, but they had fucked twice after. The third time, Timou had made Elena come thrice, her pussy spewing juice as her body shook in a paroxysm of desire. After that last round, Elena's spirits had been high for the rest of the day.

  This morning, she had wandered into the forest, her features with power as she floated over the carpet of dead leaves and vanished behind the trees, her orb floating beside her like an obedient flying dog. Timou had spent the time gathering the rest of their meager supplies remaining into a tiny bundle tied to t
he end of a long stick, in anticipation of Elena returning with their ticket out of this forsaken place. And he had been right. She had returned bearing a coconut and a stubborn expression. Timou had felt his heart leap in his chest as she floated toward him. They would be teleporting, and the thought of it both excited and terrified him.

  He had recalled the first time they had teleported. It was during their first mission, in which they had left Transylvania to hunt Lukai in Atlanta. Elena had cut them several hours of traveling by airplane by performing a highly complex spell with a coconut that had turned them into warm vapor and transported them through a portal that had opened up over a large grassy field in the outskirts of Atlanta. Seydoo had been with them at the time, and Timou recalled how he had vomited all over the grass after stepping out of the portal and landing on his side, claiming that the journey was topsyturvy. Elena had scrunched her nose in barely masked derision, while he had watched from the side, wondering why Seydoo always had to be so dramatic. Seydoo had seemed like a pesky fly that didn’t deserve to be on the team, at the time. He had found himself wondering why Seydoo was perceived so highly by the Lykae clan and the Transylvania High Commission. Then, Seydoo had seemed to him like a cog in the wheel of the team, impeding progress; like a useless limb, disfiguring a being's physical shape, deserving to be cut off. But then, Seydoo had emerged a hero; their hero. When the dominatrix had flipped over the tide of the battle and knocked Elena out, he had fled, carrying her with him. With the state of things, Lukai could have easily caught up with them as they retreated and vanquished them permanently, but Seydoo had created a distraction, risking, and eventually sacrificing his life in the process. He hadn’t pulled out and disappeared when he was needed the most like his forefathers had done in the weeks before the coalition had found consolidation. He had defied historical precedents and taken the fall for their failure just so they could live. He had made himself expendable, for the greater cause.

  Timou found himself feeling filthy for having thought so lowly of Seydoo, and, with the way Elena had grieved over it, he could tell that she felt similarly. What he would have done to have Seydoo there with them at that moment, so they could leave through the milky portal, together, and appear at the other side to watch him puke all over the place. And then, maybe after a few teleported trips he would get the hang of it and be able to hold his bowels when they landed and emerged through the portal. Now, Timou had thought sadly, they would never know.

  “From where did you find this coconut?” he had asked as she stepped into the clearing, his voice laced with excited curiosity. Somehow, since their special encounters had begun, Timou seemed to have found his voice around Elena. The words seemed to come easily now; more clearly, and definitely with a lot less stress. Plus, it must've helped that she held their exit ticket in her hand.

  “I preferred it when you didn't ask so many questions, dear.” she retorted with a bittersweet tone, causing Timou to flush tomato red up to his ears. Elena's expression tightened as she broke the coconut, the purple of her floating orb darkening until it approached a shade of violet. The coconut water—a simple, transparent liquid with a silver hue—hovered at the level of her navel, expanding and contracting and morphing into fascinating shapes like it was a living, breathing organism.

  Elena readied herself for the powerful ritual, her chin poised with purpose and her eyes arched with an expression that only power could bring. When she regained her power, she had conjured beautiful sequins to line her dress in intricate patterns, and now, as the sun cut through the thinning leaves and bounced off her rich, camel gown, the sequins glinted and shimmered in the light, accentuating her beauty and projecting her curves, and Timou felt his cock harden in his pants. He recalled eating her pussy when they had fucked for a second time. She had moaned to the high heavens and then, not to be outdone, she had turned over to his other side and taken his full cock in her mouth even as he ate her pussy like nobody's business, their bodies forming a perfect sixty-nine as they licked and sucked each other to pleasurable stupor. Timou would give anything to lick all of her pussy juice, down to the very last drop, until her vulva burned a bright red.

  “We’re heading back to the High Commission,” she announced, her voice resounding with the familiar authority of team lead, “But first, we're making a stop. And then, we'll go shove our middle fingers in Celine's face.” Her face contorted with venomous fury as she said those last words, and Timou could tell that she was livid. He knew how much she was pissed at her mother, but he hoped she was joking about the last part. Despite the fact that she had abandoned them in the forest after promising to send help, basically leaving them to rot, she was still High Commissioner and she was still Elena’s mother. He couldn’t bring himself to be rude to her. And where was it that Elena had said they were going? He found himself wondering about it. They had never once taken a detour from a mission in the years they had worked together. Elena had always been so focused, and so powerfully authoritative that, even despite Seydoo's tendency for excessiveness and irresponsibility, she had always ensured that the team stayed on the mark and got the job done in good time. Yet, here she was, knowing full well that the primary mission now was to return to the High Commission, and yet herself suggesting an unauthorized stop in an undisclosed location. She was changing, Timou could tell this, and it frightened him, as he couldn’t clearly determine if it was a change for good.

  “Buckle up,” she said sweetly, as she began mouthing the spell. She only mouthed serious spells. Most times, she could cast spells without moving her mouth, almost as though she had activated the magic in her head. The coconut water began to boil, heating up as the force of magic melded with it, accelerating the kinetic energy of the liquid particles and replacing their atomic weights with pulsing energy. As the coconut water boiled, it thinned into insubstantiality, and in its place, a portal materialized, gleaming at the edges with raw cosmic energy. Elena's face lit up with obvious excitement as the portal took shape, as though she was casting the spell for the first time. Timou figured that such a reaction was merely natural, as she must have felt the thrill of getting to cast powerful spells again, after her period of temporary magical hiatus.

  As the portal widened to the size of a gateway, she glanced in her direction and asked: “You ready?”

  For some reason, as she said those words, his dick threatened to burst through his pants. Her words aroused him as much as they astonished him. The previous time the team had teleported, she had barely glanced in his direction as he stepped into the portal, now she had asked about his readiness with a voice that massaged his skin like a balm, soothing and smooth. Her voice aroused because it had changed toward him. It no longer seemed abrasive like sandpaper and hard like cardboard. She still had that steely glint in her eyes and demanding authority in her voice (Timou was certain these would never change), but since they fucked her voice seemed to have adopted a new tenderness that made it suddenly seem sensual, at the very least.

  He responded with a resolute nod and walked toward it, his hard boots crushing the veined fallen leaves carpeting the forest floor around him with a crunch. He exhaled slowly as he walked, and then he stepped into the portal. Instantly, he felt his insides turn to water as his organs dissolved in wisps of white smoke, until he felt like nothing more than vapor, floating across the continuum of space and time like a transparent, flying sheet. Timou found that he loved this feeling, this sense of intangibleness and near nothingness. Or maybe he had merely become comfortable in it, having felt that way for much of his life.

  He remembered how he used to be when he was much younger. He was a tiny, scrawny kid who was glaringly shorter than all his mates. He was slow and weak and only good for squeezing into tight spaces, his mates had told him. When they went out on group adventures or took their fathers' weapons to the field for shooting practice or played games that required that teams be selected, he had always been left out. He had felt like an outcast amongst the Vampire Hunter clan. Even hi
s father and brothers had written him off like he was a stain on their family legacy. He had fears and terrible nightmares at night and phobias in their dozens, but no one had cared to listen to him; no one, save for his mum. Years later, he realized that this must've been where his issues with speech had begun. He had found it easier to put words together as a young kid, but no one had counted his words as anything. And, because of this, he had felt stupid. He would screen his words in his head, slowly, dissecting each syllable, just to make sure that he was saying things in the smartest possible way, just so he could have an avenue to shine, or at least blend in. He had just wanted acceptance, just a half measure of the love his brothers received.

  Then, he would venture out into the abandoned fields surrounding Hunterville, dragging his father’s crossbow along with him, because it had been too heavy for him to hoist. He would practice precision shooting by hitting at the trees lining the edges of the clearing. Then, he had graduated to swords, swinging wildly against ancient scarecrows on old farms that no one planted in anymore. With practice, his craft with the sword had improved, his precision and skill rising, though his arms would feel like lead after each round of training. His peers had kept on with their taunting, never skipping an opportunity to remind him that he would always be beneath them; always be the odd one out; always be the one who would amount to nothing. But he had kept at it, soon graduating to his father's heavy rifle.

  Then, in an unprecedented twist of dear old fate, Timou had experienced at the age of twelve a growth spurt so massive that he was suddenly towering over all his mates, and even his father and brothers. Suddenly, the jesting had dwindled. His peers, finding themselves dwarfed by his unexpected height and instantly finding him terrifying, had begun to steer clear of him. Seizing on his new advantage, he had devoted himself toward aggressively building his mind and body, with the sole aim of proving the detractors wrong. As he practiced with the arsenal of weapons, he watched himself grow better and better, until he was top seed amongst his peers for a spot at the High Commission. The people who had once hated on him and minimized his individuality had suddenly became his biggest cheerleaders. It was only then that he had found that he detested them all, so much. He hated them all for discarding him like a pile of trash when he had needed support the most. He hadn't initially desired a job in the coalition's military. When he was younger, he had dreamed of being an actor, of gracing the stages of magical theatres globally, but then he had enrolled with the Transylvanian Academy, not because of the pressures of his community, but because he didn’t think he could stand looking at their stupid faces for one more second.