by Avell Kro
The Hunter's heart pounded as he reveled in the thrill of the fight.
There should be one more. He might—
He heard a heavy thunk behind him, followed by a groan of pain. The sound caused him to
spin around, preparing for another assault.
The last member of Garlin's party had crept around behind the Hunter, a pewter tankard
raised high overhead. Before he could bring it crashing down on the Hunter's head, the drunken
man found himself caught in an arm-lock by the diminutive woman. His nose bled freely into the
shattered pewter mug embedded in his face, and the pressure she applied to his fingers had him
begging for mercy.
The tavern had fallen silent, though the encounter had lasted for little more than a minute. The
Hunter saw the heavy-set bouncers wending their way through the crowd, and knew he had
outlasted his welcome.
No matter. I got what I came for.
The Hunter flipped a gold imperial to the bartender. "For the mess."
The portly pub landlord nodded and motioned for the crowd to resume drinking. When the
bouncers laid rough hands on the Hunter, he waved the thugs away. "He's leavin’." He shot an
ominous glare at the Hunter.
Silent stares followed the Hunter as he strode to the door. The din of conversation only
resumed after he had stepped out of the doors of The Iron Arms.
He breathed deeply, enjoying the cool night after the cloying heat of the bar. A miasma of
scents hung in the air, but he found them much more enjoyable than the smell of old sweat,
crusted vomit, and cheap beer.
It smells the way a city should.
His steps quickened, and the noise of the tavern faded as he strode down the cobbled street.
"Hey!" a voice rang out behind him, calling after him. "Hey, you!"
The Hunter turned and found the woman from the bar chasing him down the street. She
glared at him, her face flushed with anger.
"Why in the frozen hell did you do that?" she raged. "I had the situation in hand."
This took the Hunter by surprise. "I did nothing any other man of class wouldn't do. I saw a
lady in an untenable situation, and I thought—"
"You thought wrong! I'm no delicate lady. I can take care of myself."
"I can see that," the Hunter responded with a grin.
"Good, and remember it, stranger." Her eyes glittered with anger, but she no longer shouted.
"I'm not some painting to be hung on a wall and protected; I'm more than capable of handling
anything and anyone."
"Consider it a lesson learned," the Hunter said with all the grace expected of a lordling, bowing
to complete the façade. He turned and strode off into the night, but he had only walked a few steps
when her voice called out to him once more.
"It's Celicia, by the way."
The Hunter turned to reply, but the woman had disappeared.
Who is this mysterious woman? Intrigued, the Hunter let his imagination wander.
She saw through my disguise easily enough, though she mistook me for a lord rather than
realizing who I really am. Perhaps…
He refused to voice the thought, but deep in his mind, he continued to ponder the question.
Soulhunger's voice throbbed in his head, returning him to the present. With an effort, he
shook the image of Celicia away.
Enough. I have a mission to accomplish.
Closing his eyes, he cast out his senses. Soulhunger, attuned to the unique scent of its quarry,
sought the life force of the man—or woman—he had been hired to kill.
There you are.
He sensed the direction in which he would find his target. A slow smile of anticipation spread
across his face. Lord Dannaros had descended from his grandiose Upper Voramis mansion and
was headed toward the sprawling Port of Voramis—the last place he ought to be at this time of
night.
Let's find out what brings you to the port so late.
Coming May 29th!
The best assassin in the world doesn’t come cheap. Betraying him will cost your soul.
The Hunter is a name feared by all in Voramis. He is an outcast, driven by a cursed dagger
with an unquenchable thirst for blood and death.
Yet he follows one simple code: kill those who truly deserve to die. His creed is put to the test
when, deceived by a shadowy employer, he unknowingly slaughters an innocent man.
With the most powerful criminal organization in the city after his head, the Hunter must fight
for his life and find a way to atone for his mistake. When his enemies harm the people under his
protection, it will take much more than an army criminals to stand in the way of his revenge.
If you love anti-heroes like the Punisher or Dexter in a dark, complex fantasy realm, then
immerse yourself in Hero of Darkness today! Andy Peloquin delivers an epic tale of one man’s struggle
to survive and find his place in a world that shuns him.
Join My Reader List!
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Reader List. You’ll receive news, updates, discounts, freebies, and so much more.
PLUS, a FREE short story prequel that gives a bit of insight into the world of the Hunter of
Voramis!
BLACKBIRD
Kat Stiles
Copyright 2018
https://katstiles.com
“Stop, thief!” The tiny clerk waved his hands in the air like a maniac.
Alayna froze—a guilty tell, but she had never done this before. She took in the scene at the
run-down convenience store, weighing her options.
I can turn myself in. First offense, and the dollar value of the items were low. Probably wouldn’t
even press charges. She eyed the frantic clerk. He would definitely press charges. He popped out of
her view, which lead her to consider her second option.
The front door. It was only a few feet away. The clerk was encased behind a wall of clear
panels, designed like a little fortress to keep the cigarettes, condoms, and cash register safe. I can
probably make it, she thought.
But two things changed her mind. The first was a burly customer who made eye contact with
her and started walking in her direction. The second was the clicking noise of a gun being cocked.
A day-old ham sandwich and a bag of chips is not worth dying for. She let out a resigned sigh
and approached the clerk, her hands in the air.
“Empty your purse!” Spittle appeared on the plexiglass panel around him. The fluorescents on
the ceiling reflected off his bald head, giving him a light mohawk. Alayna couldn’t tell what
nationality he was by his accent, and his light brown skin color wasn’t much help either. If he were
black like she, he certainly wasn’t giving her any special consideration.
Alayna did as instructed. The sandwich and chips fel to the counter with a thud.
“What is wrong with kids these days?” the clerk fumed, his eyes critical and judgmental. “Are
on cr–”
The jingle of the front door opening stopped the clerk’s rant, and he motioned to whoever
entered.
“Oh, thank God you’re here, officer.”
Great, a policeman, Alayna thought. Can my luck be any worse? She pushed a frayed lock of hair away from her face and reluctantly turned. The cop before her couldn’t be more of a stereotype—
greying afro and a potbelly full of donuts, she was sure.
“This girl,” the clerk began, poin
ting an accusing finger at Alayna, “was trying to steal from my store!” The outraged tone of his voice was almost laughable, as if it were the worst crime
committed in the history of man. Alayna pressed her lips together to suppress a snicker.
“Is that right?” the cop asked, in an odd detached sort of way, as if he were listening to an
interesting news report on TV. He stared at Alayna, tilting his head slightly.
What is up with this dude? Alayna thought. She folded her arms against her chest and looked
down. She’d seen the look of disappointment too many times. Like the critical gaze of the clerk—so
superior, indignant even. As if her very existence was simply a waste of cells.
“Well?” The clerk stared at the cop. “Are you going to arrest her?”
“Arrest me?” Alayna shook her head, her wild hair bouncing along with it. Other students at her
last school teased her about it, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t trying to win any beauty pageants.
“I’m only sixteen, you can’t—”
The cop closed his eyes for a moment and reopened them, as if he were in some kind of daze.
“Of course.” He grabbed the top of Alayna’s arm and led her towards the entrance.
“Thank you, officer.” A satisfied grin spread across the clerk’s face. “And don’t even think about
coming back here, girl!”
A round of spontaneous applause sounded from the clerk and customers alike.
They don’t know me, Alayna thought. They don’t see the real me. Just a statistic. A stereotype.
Once they made it out the door, she yanked her arm free of the officer’s grasp. “You can’t
arrest me, I’m a minor.”
“Of course.” The cop stared at her curiously.
Is that all he’s going to say? Does he know how to say anything else? There was something
vacant to his gaze, like he wasn’t all there.
Should I make a run for it? Alayna decided it wasn’t worth the risk of getting shot. She looked
around and didn’t see a cop car parked anywhere. “Where’s your car?”
“My car?” He looked down for a moment, then answered, “I don’t have one.”
Alayna didn’t know how to respond. “So…”
He just continued to stare at her. She scratched her head, waiting for him to say something.
Anything.
“Okay, I’ll guess I’ll be going then.” Alayna walked away from him slowly, still afraid he might
draw his gun or give chase. But he just stood there, watching her.
“Weirdo.” There’s no way that dude is a cop. A real cop would’ve at least lectured me on my life
choices. She turned at the next corner, eager to get some distance from him.
What the hell was that all about? Alayna wasn’t complaining, it was incredibly lucky she didn’t
get thrown in juvie. It would’ve screwed everything up—the last thing she needed was to get
thrown back in the system.
She looked back toward the street she came from and exhaled a sigh of relief. She was alone.
The sun reflected brightly on a car farther down the street, blinding Alayna for a moment. She
rubbed her eyes, and the moment her hands left her face, she saw him there. Next to the car stood
the same odd dude, staring at her.
How did he get all the way down there? She didn’t dare take her eyes off him as she approached
him. “What’s your deal?”
The cop seemed as if he were taken aback by the question. “I have more…questions.”
“Look, I know you’re not a real cop. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but if you
think for a second I’m going anywhere with you, you’re insane.”
He tilted his head. “I find you interesting.”
This guy is sounding more and more like a serial killer.
Nope. Not going to happen. Alayna flashed a fake smile, but then sprinted as she passed him.
She ran until her lungs felt like they were going to burst. In trying to get as much distance as
she could from him, she didn’t pay attention to where she was running. Not until she heard a deep
voice call out her name.
“Alayna!”
It was a voice she prayed she’d never hear again. Only a few days had passed since she ran
away, but the sound of his voice made it feel like seconds. She realized, with sudden dread, she had
run down the street where her old foster parents lived. Why the hel didn’t I run to the park? Only overzealous geese to be afraid of there.
“Been looking all over town for you, girl.” Darius, her foster father, sprinted over to where she
stood, frozen in place.
A tear escaped her eye, as she looked away. “Sorry, sir.”
“I… we missed you at home.” He touched her shoulder, lightly at first, but then his fingers
wrapped around it and squeezed. “Look at me, Alayna.”
She reluctantly met his gaze. His cold eyes contrasted the grin on his face, but it was an
expression she’d gotten used to: a perfect combination of disdain and anticipation. She could only
imagine the things he planned to do to her, to punish her act of disobedience.
In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of the pseudo officer again. Her eyes grew large,
as she realized, odd behavior or not, she was probably safer with him than Darius.
“Let’s go home, baby,” Darius said, a little too eagerly.
“I… I can’t go with you,” Alayna said loudly, so the cop could hear. He seemed to take the hint
and approached them. “This policeman needs to talk to me.”
Darius turned and sawthe officer, who extended his hand to shake.
“She’s right,” the cop said,“I have to ask her some questions about an attempted theft.”
Darius glanced at Alayna, his eyes critical.“A theft?”
“What’s going on?” a female voice said, from the house. Alayna’s foster mother, Rosa,
narrowed her eyes upon seeing Alayna. She let out a stream of muttered obscenities in Spanish,
shaking her head.
Darius ignored her and folded his arms against his chest. “What kind of trouble has she gotten
into?”
“No trouble, sir,” Alayna said. “He just has some questions, that’s all.”
The cop nodded in agreement.
Darius eyed the cop and then Alayna, as if he didn’t believe them. Finally, he relented, stepping
aside.
“Just be sure to deliver her back to me,” Darius said. “We can’t have her running away again.”
Alayna shuddered at the knowing look on his face. How am I going to get out of this?
As Alayna walked away with the officer, she noticed he seemed different, less scary than
before. But it was more than that—he seemed younger somehow, than when she first saw him in
the convenience store.
“Are you stalking me or something?” Alayna knew she should be nicer, and she did feel
gratitude, but she still wasn’t so sure about this guy. If he wasn’t really a cop, why was he
impersonating one?
“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He looked farther down the street. “I’m kinda new at
this.”
Alayna softened. If he were a new cop, it would explain what happened. Does this mean I’m still
going to be arrested?
“So, are you gonna take me in?”
His eyes got large, as if he didn’t expect that question. “I suppose that depends.”
“Depends on what?” Alayna wondered if it was bad judgment to leave with him. But anything
was preferable to staying with Darius.
“I…uh,
do have to ask you a few questions. But ultimately, it’s up to you.”
What is this guy talking about? Why would I choose to go to juvie? “I don’t understand.”
He sighed. “Can I buy you dinner? We can talk then.”
“Look, I appreciate you helping me out with Darius, but I don’t even know your name. I don’t
make it a habit of eating with strangers.”
“I’m not from here,” he said, as if that were any kind of answer to her question.
“You know, I was born and raised here, never left the metro area, but I’m pretty sure people
outside of DC have names…”
He smiled. “You’re funny.”
The warmth in his expression immediately set her at ease. Part of her wondered if she was
crazy for even considering it. But something about the way he talked, the way he carried himself in
an open, unassuming fashion, convinced her he was no threat.
Plus, she was hungry as hell, since she never did get to eat that sandwich.
“My name is Alayna,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me your name, but yougotta give me
something to refer to you as.”
He scratched his head. “A?”
Alayna shook her head no. “That’s an article, it’ll get too confusing.”
“B?”
She laughed. “Also a word. Two words, actually.”
“C?”
Is this guy for real? “Well, the letter isn’t a word, but…Nevermind, C it is.” She shook his hand,
which was unusually warm. “It’s nice to meet you, C.”
“And you as well, Alayna.” His smile was sincere, and she found it comforting somehow.
“You’re not a cop, are you?” she asked.
He half-smiled. “If that’s what you perceive me to be.”
What kind of psycho-babble is that? She didn’t know how to respond, so she stayed silent.
“What would you like to eat?” C asked.
“Whatever, I’m not picky.” She was so hungry, she would’ve devoured anything that remotely
resembled food. It had been a day since she last ate, if the suspect gruel she ate at the shelter
(whichdidn’t stay down) counted.
They made it back to a crowded street, in a better part of town where there were a number of
restaurant choices. They stopped at the first restaurant they approached, a sports bar type place