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

by Nicole Zoltack

  Hunter’s Revenge

  Rebel, Supernatural Bounty Hunter Book Two

  Nicole Zoltack

  Copyright 2020 by Nicole Zoltack

  Cover Artist: Rowserein

  ISBN-13: 9798619330090

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  To April, a reader turned proofreader turned friend.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Other Books By Nicole Zoltack

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Two large scoops of ice cream? Better make it three and some peanut butter topping and some chocolate syrup…

  I bring my bowl over to the couch and sit next to the dead genie.

  “Thank you, Amad,” I murmur before lifting my spoon to take a bite.

  A knock at the door has me pausing. I shove the spoon into my mouth, indulge the delicious blend of peanut butter and chocolate ice cream with extra from the toppings. You can’t ever have too much peanut butter and chocolate.

  “Who is it?” I call, wondering who it is and how they would react to seeing me eating next to a dead paranormal creature. Honestly, it’s not the first time I’ve eaten next to one, but it is a first for the location to be my house.

  “It’s Mirella. Is now a bad time?”

  Swallowing my next spoonful, I jump up and unlock the door. I open it with a wide smile. “How are you? It’s never a bad time for you.”

  Mirella beams at me. She’s tall and lovely, with amazing red hair and blue eyes. Her trench coat swirls around her legs as she enters my house and hugs me. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  “Why are you here?”

  She laughs and produces a vial from her pocket. “You forgot about the potion?”

  “I didn’t forget.” I nod to the coffee table, and she sets it down. “The potion a witch I helped to kill that will turn the drinker into a paranormal creature or at least grant special abilities.”

  “Yes. Are you going to take it?”

  I laugh and shake my head, my long, dark hair flying. “No way. Not only do I not trust that witch, but I’m happy being me!”

  “Then why do you need revenge?”

  “Why did you?”

  Mirella heaves a sigh. “You don’t have to go down this path.”

  “I do. I really do. Otherwise…” I sit back down next to the genie and then stand again. “Do you want to sit here?”

  “I’m fine standing.”

  “Want some ice cream?”

  “I’m fine.”

  I shake the spoon at her. "I've been eating terribly lately, not nearly enough calories, but I haven't been working out or training either. Still, you have to fuel your body, and every once in a while, a cheat meal is just what the doctor ordered."

  “Why do I have the feeling you avoid doctors?”

  I grin. “Not dentists, though!”

  She lifts her eyebrows. “Is there a story?”

  “Maybe, but… To answer your question, I really do have to. Otherwise, Amad died in vain.”

  “How so?”

  “He died telling me who killed Mason and Gracie. My brother and his wife were my guardians for a year. They did everything they could for me, including keeping me in the dark about the existence of vampires. They didn’t know that there are so many more paranormal creatures, and something else killed them.”

  “I’m sorry about Amad,” Mirella says softly.

  “He died shortly before you arrived. I don’t normally have corpses in my house.”

  “Only sometimes.”

  “You got it.” I wink.

  “Revenge can twist a person, change them, make them become shadows of themselves,” Mirella says softly. “I should know. It almost happened to me.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but this is all I’ve wanted for years. Now that I know what their killer is, I can finally move forward.”

  She purses her lips. “You’re stubborn.”

  “A little.” I lick my lips to get the last bit of chocolate.

  The witch sighs. “All right. I’ll bite. What did it?”

  “A cainian. I don’t know what that is, and unfortunately, Amad died before he could tell me the murderer’s name, but it’s a start.”

  “A cainian?” Mirella rubs the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. I don’t know much of anything about that.”

  “I know of a Cain.” I shrug. “Cain and Abel? You know? From the Bible? Abel was perfect, did everything right. Cain grew jealous and killed Abel. Talk about taking your sibling rivalry to the next level.”

  “So you’re thinking…”

  “What if cainians are Cain’s descendants?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible.” Her lips twist into a small frown. “You want to go after people who may have a connection to a man who killed his brother to avenge your brother’s deaths.”

  “Who knows? Maybe they go around killing brothers. Whatever they are, whatever their powers, whatever their strengths, I will find the one who killed Mason and Gracie, and I will have my revenge.”

  “Don’t do anything rash,” Mirella begs.

  “Rash is my middle name. Rebel Rash Reckless…”

  She rolls her eyes and playfully shakes her head. “You’re insane, you know that? I know I took some crazy risks over the years, but I’m a witch. You’re…”

  “I’m not less than just because I’m not a witch or because I don’t have any powers,” I snap.

  “I didn’t mean to make you upset,” she protests. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh, and you weren’t going to say, ‘You’re only human,’ hmm?”

  “How long have you been a bounty hunter?”

  “Since I was sixteen and a half. I’m twenty-one. You do the math,” I snap.

  I’m acting like a child, but I don’t care. I’m hurt. And right after Clarissa Garcia gave me an awesome pep talk too. She believes in destiny. She believes in me and thinks I can handle what’s coming. It’s said when your demonic angelic guardian angel believes in you more than your friends.

  Mirella lifts her eyebrows. “I am not insulting you. My point is that you’re a human, and you’ve been kidnapping and killing and everything else for years and years, but you’re still alive. That’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

  “You’re trying to backward compliment me so I won’t go after the cainians, aren’t you?”

  She sighs. “You don’t get a lot
of compliments, do you?”

  “Usually, my compliments come in the form of cash as in my clients pays me a bonus for a job well done.”

  “See? That’s my point!”

  “That I’m good at killing paranormal creatures when I’m paid to do it, but you don’t think I can handle one more.”

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t handle it.” Mirella narrows her eyes. “Don’t push me away. Now is when you are going to need your friends the most.”

  “What I need the most is to learn about cainians. I wonder if they’re on the supernatural internet…”

  Mirella watches as I place my empty bowl on my coffee table.

  “Do you want some?”

  “I don’t know how long I can stay.”

  “If you can’t eat it all, I’ll finish it.”

  “You better get back to training.”

  “Oh, I will. Hardcore. Lighting weights and karate and back at the range. Do you paranormal hunter and executioner types use guns at all?” I ask as I head to my tiny kitchen.

  She trails behind me. “We have been known to. I don’t prefer them.”

  “What do you prefer?”

  “Scythe, staff, sword. In that order.”

  “I like my gun, my daggers, my knuckles, and—”

  “Your knuckles? You haven’t punched a creature in the face, have you?”

  Her shocked expression makes me laugh, and I’m starting to feel more at ease again. She’s just worried about me. I get it.

  I get out the ice cream and a bowl and spoon before glancing at her. I have to see her face. “I have, but I’ve always done it while wearing silver knuckles.”

  Her jaw drops, and her eyes look ready to bulge out of their sockets. “Silver knuckles? Wow. I know what I’m asking Kayden for Christmas this year! That’s such a good idea. I wonder if Master Vanhydle has any. I don’t recall seeing any in the barracks on campus, but I never looked for them either.”

  “Sometimes, you just want to hit a guy in the face. Or I do. Lots of times. Don’t get me wrong. He deserved it.”

  “A vampire and a witch had been dating, but he was abusive. Somehow, he was able to compel her so she couldn’t use her magic. He would also beat her if he didn’t appreciate her tone or liked her clothes. She hired me to convince him to change his ways. She was the one to give me the knuckles in the first place.”

  “You punched a vampire in the face?”

  “Multiple times. I even broke his nose. It healed almost immediately, but still. That had been satisfying.”

  “You just beat him up? That is it?”

  "Yes. I told him who it was from and why, and he didn't believe me. He also didn't believe me that I had killed other vampires in the past, so I let him have a drop of my blood. Unfortunately for him, Holly—she's the witch—saw him drinking from me. She became so upset that she not only overpowered his compulsion, but she also killed him."

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. I have a lot of stories.”

  “I want you to have more stories,” Mirella says softly as she accepts her bowl. “And this is way too much.”

  I hand her the toppings. “There’s no such thing as too much ice cream, and what better story can there be than for me to have one detailing how I had my revenge against my brother’s murderer?”

  “How about the story of you falling in love and getting married and starting a family?”

  “A person is worth more than their relationship and their ability to spawn.”

  Mirella puts such a tiny amount of chocolate syrup on her ice cream it’s comical. “When Mason died, you became his legacy. When you die, who will be yours?”

  “I don’t need a legacy.”

  She leans against the counter and takes a bite.

  “Besides, I think there are plenty of supernatural types who will be talking about me and my work for years to come.”

  Mirella just shakes her head.

  A silence falls over us. She eats her ice cream, and I just stand there, thinking, debating, wondering. Finally, I disrupt the quiet.

  “If you were me—”

  “I wouldn’t go after the cainians,” she says quickly.

  “You lie. If you were me, would you take that potion?”

  “Are you having second thoughts?”

  "No. I don't want it, and I can sell it, yes, but… that it even exists makes me really nervous. It could fall into the wrong hands so easily, be sold and mass-produced—"

  "It can only be mass-produced if witches are forced to make it, and only those witches with the discipline of potions can do that."

  “Oh, yes, because sweat factories aren’t a thing in our past,” I deadpan.

  “I admit that it would be a terrible thing if the potion landed in the wrong hands, but it’s not. It’s in your hands.”

  “I don’t want to be a witch or a vampire or anything like that.”

  “What if that potion came into your possession for a reason?” she presses.

  “You mean because of destiny?”

  She nods. “I know not everyone believes in it, but in my experience, too many things have happened to be coincidences.”

  I shake my head. “I’m more inclined I’m destined to either keep it from others who would exploit it or just destroy it.”

  “You really don’t trust that witch, do you?”

  “I don’t. I do trust you, though.”

  “Not enough to listen.”

  “Oh, I’m listening. I’ve heard everything you’ve said.”

  “You’re going to do your own thing anyhow.”

  “Yes.” I hesitate. “Are you mad?”

  “It’s your life, Rebel,” she says softly. “I just don’t want your life to end soon.”

  “I don’t either. Believe me, I don’t, but my brother should still be alive. He and Gracie should have several kids running around by now. What about him? Doesn’t he deserve this?”

  “Do you think he would he want you to have revenge?”

  “Considering Mason and Gracie became vampire hunters because they befriended one who died saving them from vampires... They became Blake’s legacy. I’m theirs, and if I don’t have a legacy beyond being Rebel, supernatural bounty hunter, then so be it.”

  Chapter 2

  Mirella ends up staying over for a few hours before she magicks herself away back to California. As soon as she leaves, a heavy sense of foreboding and unhappiness washes over me. I can’t explain it. For years now, I’ve been on my own, but lately, I’ve been opening myself up more and making friends.

  I’m lonely.

  As lonely as I am, I do not want to keep a dead genie in my house. Hmm. I wonder if he would rather be buried or cremated. At first, I think he would prefer cremation, but then again, genies had been slaves and captured in urns and lamps, so maybe he wouldn't want to have his ashes in an urn for the rest of time.

  You know what? The authorities can handle it.

  I pocket the potion that I still do not intend to take into my pouch and grab a tarp from the closet. In my field of work, it’s essential to have a ton of tarps available at all times. You never know when you might have to lug around a body or two. Sometimes, my clients want the bodies. Other times, they’ll only want a token to know I completed the job. Regardless, I’m the only human to know about the world of supernaturals, and I will do my part to ensure the people at large remain ignorant about the supernatural community.

  Actually, I might not be the only one. If there’s an entire police department that has a unit devoted to the supernatural, then it’s possible that some other people do know. Then again, the head of that unit is Clarissa. She’s part demon and part angel, so maybe the unit is comprised of paranormal beings only. Who knows? I’m quite curious and can’t help wondering just what percentage of the world’s population belongs to paranormal beings.

  By now, it’s dark out. Good. That’ll help. Amad lived in a small apartment, and I don’t want anyone to see me sneak his body int
o his place.

  I head out to my car. The sight makes my stomach flutter about as I think about what happened to my previous vehicle. I'm still not used to this one. This is my first Honda. Guess it's a good thing I don't name cars or get attached to them. It's also black. I don't prefer black, white, or red for cars, but when you have no choice but to buy whatever is available on the lot that's cheap, you make do with what you get.

  It doesn't take me long to drive to the apartment complex. I park in the back, and I start to pop open the trunk when another car arrives. Five adults pile out of the small vehicle, making it look like a clown car. They're talking and laughing so much, taking their time, but eventually, they finally make their way inside. To be safe, I wait a full fifteen minutes before popping open the trunk. Amad had been tall, at least a foot taller than I am, and I'm not short. It's a bit of a struggle to get him out of the trunk, but once he's over my shoulder, I'm golden. His apartment is on the third floor, and I take the stairs, albeit a lot slower than the last time I came to see him here.

  At 3C, I try the doorknob. It doesn’t turn. Of course not.

  I glance around. No one is around. I quickly put down Amad and retrieve my lockpicking kit from my pouch. It doesn’t take me long to open the door, and I drag Amad inside, shut the door, and place him in his bed.

  Thankfully, Amad isn't in his genie form. The police shouldn't see anything paranormal about the body, but they also won't be able to determine the cause of death. Still, it shouldn't be too suspicious, I don't think.

  I hesitate at his door. Once I’m sure I hear nothing, I slip out, locking the door behind me. As soon as I reach my car, I call the police.