Blood Hunt (Secret Magent Book 3)

by F. A. Bentley

  Itabimori grinned from ear to ear. “You got it.”

  Chapter 39

  Squinting from behind inhuman claws, the Nagual searched for us in a mad frenzy. Wind howling, wisps of errant soul blowing to and fro, I steadied my feet and drew in a deep breath. Throwing my legs into motion, I rushed at the bastard with all the strength I had left.

  “Now!” I shouted, as Itabimori let out a grunt of effort.

  Morose vines shot up from between the cracked blocks of ancient stone, wrapping around the Nagual’s legs once again. It was now or never. Tied down, half blinded, this was as weak as he’d ever be.

  I pulled back my hand and swung, but the Nagual was ready. Channeling magic into his left eye, he regained his sight instantaneously, and deftly caught my wrist in his clawed hand.

  “I see death in your eyes, warlock. The hairs on my neck are standing on end,” the Nagual said.

  I swung my left leg into his flank. When that didn’t work I smashed my elbow into his jaws.

  Even held down by vines and half blind, the Nagual easily overpowered me. With a flick of his clawed hand he shredded my wrist to bloody ribbons and sent my wand flying through the air. It hit the stone floor about a hundred miles out of reach.

  Jagged pain shot through my wrist as the Nagual easily lifted me up and into the air. The crooked beast sneered at me as I his free hand clamped down on my neck. He was choking me to death. Again. At this rate though his claws would slice my head clean off before I’d asphyxiate.

  “I must say that it’s been a pleasure, Señor Locke,” the Nagual said, reveling in his victory. “So much so that I think I’ll savor your soul myself. A child of Quetzalcoatl would more than suffice as tribute to Hun Came, after all. Come out of hiding, little snake, or else I’ll put an end to--”

  I heard a wet thud. My eyes caught the shine of crimson flowing out of the Nagual’s mouth. The mana blade, rammed into the Nagual’s ethereal side, had found its mark.

  “Who’s hiding, you ugly jerk?” Itabimori whispered.

  A look of confusion passed through the Nagual’s eyes as the drip of mortal blood welled up around the blade.

  I smiled weakly, vision blurring. Shifting flesh into mana might seem like a cure-all for physical harm, but in truth, it was just trading one weakness for another. It made him impervious to my wand, but was the perfect chance for Itabimori hit him right where it hurt the most.

  No parting words. No quips. The Nagual simply shuddered, and toppled over without a twitch. It looked like a crumpled heap of rotten leaves and snapped twigs. Dead and gone.

  “Tabi,” I said, gasping for breath. “You--”

  “Got him right where it hurts,” she replied, hands on her hips.

  “Precision like that really turns me on,” I said.

  Danger is sexy. Near death experiences always made for a powerful aphrodisiac. My heart was pounding like a jack hammer, and my body was all fuzzy.

  “Look, the soul storm,” Itabimori cried out.

  The otherworldly tempest had reached it’s climax. A wail of wind and souls filled the air and nearly deafened my ears. And just as I thought my ears would start bleeding, it all came to a halt. Like a demon banished from a possessed body, the winds were forcibly scattered, and deadly silence filled the newly stagnant air.

  Almost silence. I grabbed my wand. The smell of danger still hung onto the stale air.

  I heard cracking, and a motion from above the main altar caught my eye. At first I thought it was a rock that had been dislodged from the cavern roof and was falling down. My instincts however disagreed. Not something. Someone?

  “Itabimori,” I said.

  She helped me to my feet, nodding stiffly.

  Upon the altar, covered in the skeleton of the immense bird, something stirred. The crumbling of bones and crackle of motion gave the presence away. Whatever just fell from on high was scrounging about on the altar.

  “That must be him. Hun Came,” Itabimori whispered.

  The Nagual’s feast was eaten. But by who? Whatever had dropped down from on high couldn’t have been Hun Came, could it? Anxiousness and adrenaline coursed through me anew as a shape rose up from between the bleached rib cage that sat upon the altar.

  Black robes billowed in the dying howl of the storm. A shape not unlike the outline of a man held in it’s hand a crimson red orb that sparkled brilliantly. Tearing it away from the bones of the long dead bird, the figure inspected it’s prize.

  “That’s the One Death?” I asked. “You sure?”

  I couldn’t believe it. It certainly looked ominous, but the Nagual was a hundred times more horrible. If this really was the God of Death he just looked like a guy in a hooded bathrobe.

  My pace quickened. My predatory instincts flared. Could it be that even after that massive serving of soul and Human suffering, he was still barely hanging on? Awakened but severely weakened?

  Turning to Itabimori I saw her grin. She must have thought the same thing. A woman after my own heart. If we’re gonna win, we might as well win big, right?

  “Itabimori, let’s put this bastard to rest once and for all,” I said.

  “You’ve read my mind. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  We charged full throttle at the weakened God of Death. With my wand-sword clenched tight in my left hand and Itabimori at my back, I knew I could take on anything and anyone.

  Vines sprouted from beneath the bird bones, and caught Hun Came in a crushing embrace. Too easy. Caught like a fish in a net! As the God of Death feebly turned to face me, I drew back my blade and--

  And then the vines holding Hun Came crumbled to dust. In an instant, I felt something fly past me on massive wings. Sent sprawling by the speed of the movement, the impact of my wrist to the stone floor shot agony up my arm. Turning around, cringing in pain, I turned to Itabimori to shout a warning.

  Instead, I caught sight of something that would forever be burned into my mind.

  Baleful robes billowed. Hollowed hood leered. Two grand wings stretched impossibly wide, each feather the color of metal and deadly sharp. The long sword gripped in its hand, black as pitch, piercing through Itabimori’s chest and out of her back.

  What?What just happened? It didn’t make sense.

  A look of surprise was etched into Itabimori’s face, her hands fell limp at her side. When the sword was pulled from her chest, she fell backwards without a word. She did not stir from where she fell.

  Itabimori?

  A sigh like grinding steel reached my ears. It came from deep within that monster’s empty hood.

  “Nine hundred, ninety eight thousand, seven hundred and ninety two,” it spoke.

  Cold horror clenched my stomach. The thing was standing right in front of me. Her blood was dripping from the tip of it’s ebony blade. And all I could do was stare helplessly as the realization that Itabimori was dead washed over me.

  Killed. Cut down. Slaughtered. And I couldn’t do a damn thing except watch in dazed horror.

  “Itabimori?” I whispered, clutching my shredded wrist.

  At last, my addled mind finally put together the separate pieces and solved the mystery that stood before me. Massive wings? Cloaked in robes as black as night? A voice belonging to no creature of this Mortal Earth? A power so overwhelming that I was completely beneath it’s notice? It couldn’t be. And yet, it almost looked like an…

  Angel?

  Folding wings of sharpened steel, the Angel careful placed the crimson orb into the folds of its robe.

  “Seven Macaw. My ‘brother’,” the Angel spoke, it’s voice like groaning metal. “Of course I would not leave you here. Who else had hubris enough to endure the eons, here in this dead place? But He would give you purpose anew.”

  The figure turned to me, at last taking note of my presence.

  “A Mortal. A lone survivor from among the dead herds below, it seems. Good. You will serve as my messenger,” it spoke. “Mortal man. Stray lamb. Hear me.”

&
nbsp; My mind scrambled to form words. None came. Even breathing was difficult in its presence.

  “A reckoning is come. And every Supernatural creature that dares to creep upon the face of the world shall be destroyed. By the blade, and the torch, and the dread truth I speak. But fear not, for this is a time to rejoice, little lamb. For it has been decreed that Mankind shall be spared. Revel in the radiance of the new world He of Unnumbered Ways would make for you. Spread the word I’ve spoken far and wide.”

  My heart leaped into my throat. My skin crawled and every hair stood on end. This was the unseen actor. In Norway and Japan it had left ripples, and now at last I’d seen it face to face.

  I’m such an idiot. Just as Lis suspected, there never was a Hun Came. The Nagual had been fooled and used like a convenient tool. He hadn’t become the servant of some bygone God desperate for rebirth. He had been made the pawn of an Angel of Death.

  Wings the color of tempered steel stretched wide, light from the cracked cavern roof streaming from above. The storm had passed, but it had left me desolated. As the Angel of Death flew up and out of Xibalba, I was left alone with Itabimori, cradled in my arms.

  Chapter 40

  “And it’ll stay locked down til next year?” Cazador asked again, his voice crackling over the cell.

  “Yeah,” I replied, my voice dull even to my own ears.

  “Well done. Very well done. In fact, I might just treat you to a drink when you get back from your vacation, demon monger.”

  “Vacation?” I asked.

  “That’s right,” Cazador said. I could tell he was smirking even through the call. “Gelwer and the Lord Illusionist made double sure. Not only will you be guaranteed the rest of your rest and relaxation in Cancun, but even be rewarded with an extra week of vacation time.”

  “I see,” I replied.

  “We’ve already ordered a contingent to guard the ruins through the year. By the time the gates to Xibalba open up again next year, we’ll be more than ready to ensure any artifacts or magical remnants of the old pantheons do not fall into the wrong hands.

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “Enough talk though. I have a report to file. You have a vacation to enjoy. You’ve earned it, demon monger. Well done.”

  Click.

  I let my cell phone hand fall limply onto the bed. My right hand fidgeted in it’s bandages. My wounds ached. A dull roar. My eyes latched onto the white ceiling of my penthouse suite as my mind drifted.

  He was right. From their perspective, my mission turned out to be a complete success. The Mabinoya Magi had retreated, suffering large losses in both personnel and ‘equipment’, thrall or otherwise. Tlatani’s cult had been eradicated in one fell swoop, and several other splinters had been rounded up and dealt with in the chaos that ensued after the closing of Xibalba’s gates.

  The Day of the Dead had passed, but somehow I was still stuck in place.

  I pushed myself up to a sitting position, letting my eyes drift to the note on the coffee table. I stared at it in silence. Carefully, I read the words written on it again.

  Itabimori. Thursday. Eternal Mercy Cemetery.

  A pang of pain invaded my chest. Mission accomplished? Total success? Don’t make me fucking laugh, Cazador. I failed at everything except ensuring Nine Towers got it’s way. A sweet girl was dead and never coming back!

  “Shit,” I cursed, tearing my eyes away from the note on the coffee table.

  Victory. But for who? Narani? Me? Itabimori? Only the shadow of that dread Angel remained in my mind. We never stood a chance. Yeah, it was a victory, but at what cost? If only I’d played it cool. Maybe then Itabimori might not be…

  “Goddammit,” I cursed. “Goddammit all.”

  The front door creaked open. I heard the sound of heels clacking on hardwood floor.

  “Gotta say Charlie, I’m pretty impressed,” Lis said, throwing off her kicks and closing the bedroom door with a bare foot. She had two bottles of champagne and a sack of organic apples cradled in her hands. “You plumbed the depths of a half forgotten underworld, overcame nasty traps and fancy bad guys alike, and you even… What’s the matter with you?”

  “I’m not feeling this vacation anymore. I think I’m gonna cut it short,” I said.

  Lis’ eyebrows perked high. “Girl trouble, huh? Didn’t think it’d happen quite this fast. Maybe if you go find snake girl quick you can apologize and have crazy make up sex.”

  “Itabimori’s dead,” I replied.

  The she-devil watched me carefully. I was expecting an ‘I told you not to get a big head’ or some cruel laughter. Devil’s get off on this sort of thing after all, don’t they? Instead of drinking my pain like a fine cognac, Lis wordlessly sat down next to me.

  It was a long time before she finally broke the silence. “That’s not good. I didn’t expect the Nagual would give you quite that much trouble. Wanna talk about it?”

  I couldn’t help the sad grin that tugged at my lips. “You’re great at faking concern,” I said. “The Nagual wasn’t a match for the both of us. Perfectly manageable with Itabimori there.”

  Lis leaned back onto the bed, letting out a sigh. “I see. Guess Hun Came wasn’t quite as dead as I suspected.”

  “Actually he was. An Angel killed her,” I said.

  The air suddenly became heavy. If there had been birds singing outside they’d have been instantly silenced. Slowly, Lis turned her head to me, a strange look etched into her face. Molten bronze eyes seared into my flesh and boiled my soul.

  “What did you just say?” Lis asked.

  “Angel. Rammed a long black sword right into Itabimori’s chest. Killed her instantly. He only spared me because he didn’t seem to think I posed any sort of threat. He made off with some red orb he got from a bird skel--”

  The she-devil grasped my shoulder, razor sharp nails shredding the fabric of my shirt as her grip twitched and tightened.

  “Charles Montgomery Locke. Tell me exactly what happened.”

  I sighed, shaking my head. “I’ll start at the beginning then. Pour me a drink.”

  ###

  About the Author

  For the latest news and updates regarding the Secret Magent series, not to mention freebies, sneak peeks and cover reveals, check out my writing blog at…

  Indignantfigmentfantasy.blogspot.ca

  Reviews help separate the wheat from the chaff. If you liked, or hated, this book leave a review at Amazon, Goodreads, or wherever you prefer and let others know. Let your voice be heard!

  *

  All throughout my formative years I’ve been inspired by great authors like Tolkien, Lewis or even Le Guin. The fact that my work doesn’t very much resemble their heavy handed epic fantasy in any way shape or form is one hundred percent my fault.

  Like a teenager in the throes of rebellion, I’ve gone to the shiny and smooth, hard and fast world of action-y urban fantasy without a single regret. Of course, that doesn’t mean I can’t add a dash of old school fantasy into things.

  Take our be-shadowed protagonist for example. Charles Locke might seem like a fairly stock character at first glance, but he’s a far cry from the soulless suaveness or sheer gratuitous violence that usually passes for a main character in stories like these. He is a character in desperate search of redemption, unable to forgive himself, let alone imagine others might accept him for his past failings. It’s precisely this feeling of inability, or perhaps even incapability to redeem oneself that I’ve always loved in stories.

  Tragedy. Pathos! Being the big hero with a cool gun and neat gadgets is all that’s really needed in action books, but there’s a lot of wasted potential in just churning them out like an explosions factory. Perhaps because of my fantasy genre roots, I feel compelled to put in hints and references for the careful reader so that they might better understand a character they’re curious about.

  It just doesn’t feel right making a pool without a deep end. And if Lis has her way, Charles will be forced to go off t
hat deep end often and in varied ways.

  -Flor

  Other Books in the Secret Magent series:

  Giantfall

  Two to Tengu