Hunter's Quest: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Rebel, Supernatural Bounty Hunter Book 1)

by Nicole Zoltack

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I wince.

  “Ah, you shouldn’t have, lass. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that here, though, and it won’t be the last. Since the drinks on the house because of you, I’ll be letting it slide. Just this once.”

  “It won’t happen again,” I promise.

  The troll returns. “Don’t ask me what it’s called. Don’t ask me what’s in it. I had Hudol whip you up something special.”

  “He the dwarf?” I ask.

  She nods and rushes away to help another customer.

  I eye the yellow foaming drink, shrug, and take a sip. Whatever it is, it’s delicious and goes down smooth. Fruity and sweet without being overpowering. This could be dangerous. Just the one, then.

  “I’m actually glad you’re here,” the leprechaun says.

  “Oh?” I side-eye him. “Do you have a job for me?”

  “Aye, I do, lass. I want you to bring me in a werewolf while in wolf form. Can you handle that?”

  “That depends.”

  He eyes me, waiting.

  “Are you willing to pay?”

  The leprechaun places a stack of twenties on the bar. “That’s just a down payment,” he says.

  I don’t look away from his face. “I can do it.”

  I reach for the money, but he lays a hand on my wrist.

  “Not any werewolf. I want the alpha of the Blood Moon pack.”

  “That’ll cost you double.”

  “Deal.”

  We shake hands and then start to talk about the weather and other nonsense small talk. Instead of just one drink, I have three, but that’s more because of the nature of my new job than wanting to forget about losing a client.

  A werewolf in wolf form? Doable. An alpha? Harder but still feasible. The alpha of the Blood Moon pack?

  I should’ve asked for triple.

  Chapter 4

  The hour is getting late, and I need to be home well before the sun rises. I say goodbye to Donal Murphy, the leprechaun, and then nod to the troll bartender, who smirks.

  Carefully, I stand, but I’m not woozy. Good. I feel the effects of the drinks some, but I should be able to get home safely.

  Vinca is too busy with her parents and her fiancé, so I don’t interrupt to say goodbye, and I walk out into the cool, night air. Just because I think I can handle anything and anyone doesn’t mean I don’t book it for home. I do, but I still take a few detours just in case anyone tails me. No one does. It takes me a little over an hour to get home.

  Good. I’m hoping word will spread about the free drinks and my role. Lately, the jobs have been a little more scarce, but this one job will get me a pretty penny. I’m just glad the leprechaun didn’t give me more gold coins to join the ones from the genie.

  As soon as I enter my house, I turn the lights on and touch the picture frame on the wall of my parents. They died shortly after I turned fifteen in a car accident. Only I survived. No foul play. No paranormal creature involved. Just a pothole a drunk driver didn't avoid that sent him careening into our lane and the side of our car.

  Next to that picture is one of Mason and Gracie, my brother and his wife. I offer them a small smile, sigh heavily, and drag myself to my room.

  The house is small, not even a thousand square feet, only one floor. It's more of a studio than a house. My parents downsized after my brother went to college up north in Boston. Our parents had always been simple people, not needing much. Two bedrooms—mine had been the size of a closet, but now it's my office—a bathroom the size of a postcard, a kitchen that's more of a kitchenette, and a small dining/living room area. That's it, but then, I take after my parents. I don't need much either.

  Fox Chapel is a small town, a suburb of Pittsburgh. Thankfully, Ye Old Chestplate is right on the edge of the city closest to Fox Chapel. Sometimes, my job requires travel, a lot of travel, out-of-state travel. Pittsburgh seems to be a hotbed for a lot of paranormal creatures. When I went out to the West Coast for a job once, that had been pretty crazy. I blame it on California. That's where that Magical Hunters Academy is.

  Maybe once everything is done, my money all saved up, my quest completed, maybe then I can take a vacation somewhere. Seattle might be nice, and it should be far enough removed from Magical Hunters Academy that I can pretend everyone’s human and that vampires and werewolves don’t exist.

  Werewolves. Blood Moon pack. Aargh.

  Heaving a sigh, I head to my office. Everything is meticulous. The one wall is covered in shelves, each one filled with vials and jars filled with various items. They aren't trophies, not in the same sense as a serial killer will keep name-tags or wallets or locks of hair from their kills. These are items I've found or acquired through my line of work, items like this vampire fang, that I can use to barter with witches or other paranormal beings. Sometimes, although I don't prefer it, clients will pay in items such as these that I can then do with as I wish, barter or sell. It's not as if I can use them. Even if I were to get my hands on a grimoire, I don't have magic. I can't just dump the ingredients together and make a potion. That's not how magic works. Believe me. I've tried, but I'm not a witch. I'm just plain ole me.

  Sighing again, I ease my way behind the desk. That and a filing cabinet are the only furniture pieces in the room. Nothing else will fit.

  From my top drawer, I carefully remove a piece of parchment and lay it out on the table. It’s a map, or it will be shortly.

  With great care, I roll up the map back, secure it into a protective tube, and place that on my back. My bounty hunting attire has all kinds of belts on it, and they aren’t for show. Quietly, I leave the house. No one will notice me. Out here, the houses aren’t one on top of the other, a fact I’m seriously grateful for.

  After double-checking that the tube won't fall, I retrieve the ladder from the shed and place it against the side of the house. I climb and sit on the roof. The clouds are covering the moon, and I patiently wait for them to move.

  A witch gave me this map a few years ago. She wanted me to find her some werewolf claws. Did you know not all witches can do potions or cast spells? That had been a shock, and since she can’t do spells, I’m not sure why she needed those claws. I don’t ask questions, remember? But she gave me the map to help me locate the nearest werewolves.

  She might’ve asked for it back, but my palms can be a little sticky at times. Not that I stole it because in the end, after demanding I give her back the map five times and I kept refusing, she docked it out of my pay. I still think I got the better end of that even though it meant I had to eat Ramen noodles for a month. That had always been my brother’s go-to meal in college. I used to tease him about his breath after he would eat it. Good times.

  The clouds have moved enough that the moonlight shines on a corner of the map. Once the moon is fully shining again, the map is entirely visible. Tiny pawprints decorate certain areas, each pawprint representing a werewolf.

  I memorize each of the locations. Yes, the werewolves are moving some, but the areas are their dens. Unless they're going to up and leave the state, they'll be in these vicinities. One thing I've noticed about werewolves is that they tend to live nearby, in cul-de-sacs or apartments. They take the pack mentality thing seriously. Which is both convenient and inconvenient. The alpha’s wolves won’t be far away when I go to bring him down, and in wolf form too.

  Blood Moon pack. Of all the packs…

  For the most part, I don’t associate with werewolves. They keep to themselves and don’t trust outsiders. Maybe because of the whole being hunted down for their claws thing. It’s not as if I killed the werewolf I declawed, but others might and probably do. Since they don’t bother with outsiders, they don’t hire me, and I’ve only been tasked with the one as a target. Otherwise, I leave them be.

  But that doesn’t mean I don’t know about some of the packs. The Sanguis Warriors, despite their name, have been fighting for their children to be treated fairly. Sometimes, people will realize there’
s something not quite right about werewolves or other paranormal creatures without realizing what they are. Kids, especially teenagers, can be mean, and if they think the werewolves are different, they aren’t exactly the nicest to them. There are academies for werewolves and only werewolves, like Blood Haven, but there aren’t any around here. Unless things change, I think the Sanguis Warriors may opt to homeschool their children. But their fight? It isn’t just about their kids. There was an article in the paper not that long ago about bullying, and the target was a human. Amad’s not wrong. Some people are evil.

  The Silverfur Howlers stick to themselves. They almost have their own little sect of Pittsburgh all to themselves. They don’t bother anyone, and no one bothers them. That almost makes me wonder what would happen if the status quo was interrupted, but thankfully, that’s not going to be me.

  Finally, the Blood Moon pack. A rumor has been circulating that they left the area maybe six or seven years ago for the eastern part of the state to follow some kind of super werewolf vampire zombie type creature. Amorak? Amarok? Something like that. Maybe Amarok’s been killed because the Blood Moon pack has been back for years now. Before they left, they had been vegetarians and the butts of jokes among the werewolf community. When they returned, they started to eat meat. They would hunt as werewolves and eat every animal they killed. At first, they left the carcasses in plain sight, but once the people started to become frightened, they at least did something with the remains. Not that I know what they did, and that is one question I’m definitely not asking.

  Every major city has crime and murders, but on and off for about five years now, shortly after they returned, there have been people missing or a person would have slashes and not recall how they got them. Even more recently, there have been people murdered, their bodies half-eaten, their blood half-gone, presumably drunk by the killer or killers.

  Just like Amarok or whatever his name is.

  The Blood Moon pack is savage or has turned savage. They’re a lot more wolf-like or maybe just more animalistic. I don’t think wolves, real wolves, tend to bother people unless they’re attacked or cornered.

  Donal Murphy, the leprechaun, didn’t give me a deadline, which suits me just fine, considering he paid me decently upfront. I could have steak every night this week if I wanted. Not that I will. I do love a nice, thick, juicy med-rare steak now and again, but I do need to save up as much as possible.

  Having time, though, means I can sleep and wait until tomorrow to start sniffing around the various packs on the matt to determine which one is Blood Moon and, from there, learn who their alpha is.

  Chapter 5

  The first pack I check out is Silverfur Howlers. Knowing my luck, the next one will be Sanguis Warriors, but for once, I’m pleasantly surprised. The second group of wolves I spied on the map, the one on the western outskirts of Pittsburgh, belongs to the Blood Moon pack.

  The moon is full tonight, so it's no surprise that I come across them in a forest, all twelve of them in wolf form. How do I know they belong to the Blood Moon pack? Somehow, they dyed their paws to be blood-red. I don't know if their human palms are affected too or not, but I suspect that isn't the case.

  I am not going to attack tonight. All I’m here is for surveillance. Before I can tackle a werewolf—which might literally be the case—I will need a few supplies from my office.

  Three of the wolves are much larger than the others. One of those has to be the alpha.

  Some of the wolves are nipping at each other. At first, I think it’s playful, but soon, they’re growling and biting. It’s savage, and I watch the larger ones, waiting for one of them to interfere and put a stop to the nonsense.

  One of them barely moves his head, but I think it’s a nod. The other two large wolves take off running, and they body slam the wolves on top until they’re knocked off. Others come and pin the ones on the bottom.

  The wolf who barely nodded saunters over to him. He’s sleek and graceful, almost moving more like a giant cat than a giant canine. He howls, clearly talking to them, but I’m not a wolf whisper. I have no idea what he’s saying.

  Some of the pinned wolves begin to howl, but one stomp of the alpha’s paw on the ground is enough to silence them. The pinned wolves are released, and they form a circle around one of the wolves to be body slammed.

  The alpha slinks forward. Without warning, he leaps high into the air, and his teeth sink into the sole wolf's throat. In the light of the full moon, I can see the blood staining his fur.

  The alpha retreats, and the other wolves descend on the injured wolf. There’s no doubt in my mind. They killed him.

  As terrifying as this raw display of power is, I can’t just turn tail and leave. Gradually, a few at a time leave, most of them shifting back to their human forms before exiting the clearing.

  The alpha doesn’t. Not only is he the last one to leave, but he maintains his wolf form.

  I do not want to follow him while he’s in this form, but I have no choice. If I had brought along my weapons… No. All he would have to do is howl, and all of those werewolves who just left would be here immediately to take me down.

  Ah, wait. He isn’t alone. There’s another wolf there, and the two howl softly before they shift into their human forms.

  The alpha is a tall man, built like an ox or a linebacker. His brown hair is a mess on his head, and he has a cropped beard and trimmed mustache. I can’t see his eye color from here, but his jaw is firm. His nose is large, and it’s only as he turns away from me that I notice he has a scar on his neck.

  He hurries to a car. I don’t often drive, opting to walk most of the time, but I’ve been driving last night and tonight. When you’re dealing with werewolves, you want a quick getaway. No one can outrun a werewolf.

  I memorize his car's make and model and license plate. Then, I hurry to my car. I can't find his, but that's all right. With a license plate, I'll be able to find him.

  By the time I return home after trying to find his old Mercury Cougar anywhere. No matter. I grab my laptop and do some good, old-fashioned sleuthing. A lot of being a bounty hunter is a lot like being a private investigator.

  Ah. There he is. Wyatt Dane. He’s a used car salesman. Honestly, that strikes me as hilarious. A bloodthirsty werewolf alpha is a used car salesman of all things.

  Tomorrow night, I’ll be ready just in case I can get him alone. If there’s another meeting with them all, then I’ll wait for another day. Patience. With a job like this, I need to be patient. Otherwise, I’ll not only fail the client. I’ll end up dead.

  Silver knuckles? Check. Crossbow? Check. Dagger? Check. Gun? Check. Silver bullets? Check but I only have two left.

  Muttering a curse, I rip off the flowers of five calendulas and shove them in my boots and pockets. The orange multi-petaled flowers are pretty, but they’re also full of fragrance and will hopefully help to mask my scent.

  In addition to learning the alpha’s name, I also discovered that he’s single, lives alone, and his address. Unfortunately, he has a lot of land, plenty of acres for a werewolf to roam… or werewolves. I drove by the place earlier today to scope it out. His land has a lot of bushes and two lines of trees that basically act as fences, so there are plenty of spots for a werewolf to hide.

  It’s disgusting what I did next, but I parked a block away and then walked across the land far beyond his property and made my way back. The closer I got to his house, the more I would dump some of the contents of my bottle.

  Diluted dog urine.

  Don’t ask how I acquired it, but I’ve heard that the urine of other animals bother shifters. With it diluted, I’m hoping they’ll feel discomfort enough to want to leave without them realizing just why they’re feeling that way. It’s a long shot, but I’m going to do my best to stack the deck in my favor.

  I'm ready to go, and I head out and park a few blocks from his house. It's about four in the afternoon. His shift ended a half-hour ago. If he comes straight home, he'll be the
re in a few minutes.

  Which means I have about a minute to reach his house first. I move swiftly, not on the sidewalk but on the land like earlier, and I approach his house from the south. There’s something else I have that will ensure he transforms. After all, once he’s captured, he’s not going to want to shift for the leprechaun.

  It took driving around for hours, about half a tank of gas, but I found it.

  Roadkill.

  Fresh.

  As in, the animal hasn't even died yet.

  There’s nothing that can be done for the poor rabbit. I don’t know how he is holding on for so long, but there’s nothing that can be done. I’m such a bleeding heart that I even took the animal to the vet to make sure he couldn’t be saved. He is actually a she, but I’m right. It’s only a matter of time.

  Her small frame pulsates with each heartbeat, and I hate to have to offer her up, but at least then she won’t feel any more pain. I put her down far enough from the alpha’s back door that he’ll have room to shift. The tree lines will prevent any of his neighbors from seeing. I have no doubt he’ll want to eat in his wolf form versus his human one.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmur, and I race back to the tree line just as his car pulls up.

  A car door slams, and I wince from the loud sound piercing the silence. At least there’s only one door slam. He’s alone. Good.

  His shoes don’t make much sound against the pavement, but then he stops. I sure hope he’s sniffing. Yes, he’s coming into view. His eyes light up as he spies the dying rabbit.

  Like the predator he is, he races over, on two legs and then four, transforming as he runs. The moment he starts to feast, I line up my crossbow and take the shot.

  The stake is imbued with sulfate gas. Once the stake pierces the skin, the gas is expelled out the back end, and the werewolf should take a nap.

  The gas releases as planned. The alpha staggers as planned. The alpha glances all around and makes eye contact with me instead of going down.