“Come in,” Tate calls.
I open the door and gasp. He’s transformed his living room into a shop for potions since the last time I came here.
“I’m in the back,” he says.
My heart thundering so loudly I can hardly hear anything else, I make my way around the counter and head to the back. The door is heavy, and the room I enter is pitch black.
What in the world?
“Tate?” I murmur cautiously.
Out of nowhere, there’s the sound of shattering glass, and purple smoke appears in the darkness in front of me. Immediately, I pull up my top, loving that the collar is so tall. I do not want to inhale whatever this is.
My gun is out, but without a target that I can see, it doesn’t do me much good.
“Tate, what is this?” I growl. My words are muffled through my clothes, and I back away from the smoke.
Carefully, I slide to the left. The last thing I want is to step on some of the broken glass.
Wait. I shift to the right. The smoke moves toward me. I head left, and it’s still chasing me. What in the world? How? Before my eyes, the smoke twists to form into a hand that reaches for me.
This so isn’t fair, but then again, this isn’t the first time a foe has used magic against me, and it won’t be the last. Too bad I can’t use magic to fight back, but that won’t stop me.
The gun won’t do anything against the smoke. Honestly, I doubt anything I have will, but I tuck the gun away and grab my angel blade. It shines a faint blue in the darkness, enough that I can spy a form in the shadows to the right. Tate, the bastard.
“What did I ever do to you, Tate?” I ask. “Why are you attacking me?”
The smoke hand is coming ever closer. Luckily, it's moving as quickly as a cloud does in the sky. I can easily avoid it for now, at least. I'm not sure how big this room is.
Tate is silent, and I opt to ignore the smoke hand entirely, gunning for the witch instead. He doesn’t have any elemental powers as far as I know, but he might have other tricks up his sleeves besides potions.
I’m just about to attack the form when I halt.
It’s not Tate. It’s some kind of clay monster.
A golem.
A giant of a golem.
It’s at least one and a half times my height.
Oh, man. I don’t know if this is going to be fun or terrible. Maybe both.
My hesitation gives the golem enough time to slap me hard across the face. I go down hard. Thankfully, the angel blade doesn’t leave my hand, but my palm slams against the hilt so hard that my palm aches, throbbing as I jump back to my feet. I’m not nearly as powerful or accurate with my left hand, but I toss the blade there.
Before I can attack the golem, the smoke hand grabs me, yanking me into the air and squeezing hard. My right arm is free. Despite my hurting palm, I put the dagger in that hand again, and I stab the smoke. There’s a crackling sound, and the smoke dissipates. Awesome. I slam to the ground again, free from the smoke hand. Not so awesome.
I cough slightly as I move to stand, but the golem kicks me hard in the chest. It steals my breath away but not as badly as it would’ve if he had hit my gut. Trust me, kicks to the abdominal region are terrible. Then again, getting kicked in the chest means ribs may break, so bottom line, try to avoid being kicked.
The angel blade gives off some light, yes, but it’s still dark all around me, and I can’t spy where anyone else might be. Are there any other monsters lurking about? And by monsters, I do include Tate.
How can I best destroy this golem? It’s controlled by Tate somehow.
Unless it’s controlled by an evil spirit.
“Tate, you’re such a coward,” I call. “Can’t even face me yourself. What a—”
The golem lets out a grunt and tries to kick me again. I move out of the way. This time, the golem pulls back to punch me. I slide to the right, away from the swinging arm, stab the golem in the shoulder, and use that as leverage to scramble up and sit on its shoulders.
The golem reaches for my knees, but I already have the angel blade out of the shoulder. As deep as I can, I shove the blade directly into its clay neck. The blade is stuck, and I drag it along the neck. Blood doesn’t gush out, of course, because the golem is clay and not truly alive.
Once the blade finally reaches the other side of the neck, it falls free. The golem still grips my knees, but I fling myself backward and kick the golem’s head as I flip in the air. I don’t quite time the flip right, and I land on a knee instead of my feet, but the head rolls off, so there’s that.
The headless golem turns around to face me even though it has no face.
Bloody hell. What is it going to take to kill it?
You know what? If the head isn’t where I have to attack, then I’ll go for the chest. I didn’t go there originally because I figured a clay monster wouldn’t have a heart.
I aim for the chest and go to stab, but the golem is somehow moving faster now. His fist slams onto my wrist, and the angel blade falls to the ground.
Time to end this.
In one fluid movement, I grab my gun, line up my shot, and pull the trigger. The golem staggers back. It takes two of my shots for him to fall.
“Tate,” I say warningly, heading toward the back door.
The door explodes open, and I shoot at chest height. Tate’s a little taller than I am, so the shots hit him in the upper abdomen.
He doesn’t even look at his wounds, just stares at me with hatred in his eyes. There’s enough light from behind him that floods into the room and banishes the darkness.
“Why did you try to kill me?” I ask bitterly.
“You handed over Helen to be imprisoned for the rest of her life.”
I furrow my brow and then realize who he means. Helen is a witch that an angel hired me to track down. It had been the job before the one when Amad asked me to kill a certain vampire with fairy blood and give him one of the fangs. Come to think of it, I have both fangs. They might be important. I should have Mirella or Luna look at them.
“I never knew what happened to her,” I say. “What’s it to you?”
“Helen had been mine.”
“Your what?” I ask. I hate it when guys act like women are possessions instead of people.
“She was… She… I…”
“If she’s in prison, she must’ve done something.”
Tate’s eyes are growing glassy. He slumps down to his knees. His wounds are overtaking him. With a shaking hand, he reaches for his pocket.
He’s going for a healing potion. Can he really come back from this?
No. I’m not going to let him.
But I don’t need to worry. His hand is only half in his pocket when he completely crumples to the ground. A small puddle of blood forms beneath him, and he stops breathing.
Tate is dead.
Better him than me.
Still, I need a witch to help me with Darius.
Agitated, I step over the headless golem, ready to leave when someone calls from the front, “Tate? Where are you?”
Oh, no. It must be one of Tate’s customers.
This is so not good for so many reasons.
Chapter 17
There has to be another way out of here, but before I can turn around to check, footsteps sound in the front room.
I mutter a curse, tuck away my weapons, and go to the front to head off whoever it.
“Hi,” I say cheerfully. Oh, man, I hope there isn’t any blood on me.
“Who are you?” the man asks suspiciously. He’s a dwarf, I think, but if he is, he’s partially something else because he’s the tallest one I’ve ever seen.
“I’m Rebel.”
“Rebel?” His eyes narrow. “That bounty hunter. Why are you here?”
“I don’t know if you know this, but Tate’s used my services before.”
“Yes, and he also hates your—”
“He hates my frown,” I say smoothly.
“Don’
t make me laugh,” he says darkly as he removes twin daggers. “If Tate doesn’t come out right now—”
“Tate’s not here.”
“He would never leave the shop in the hands of someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” My hands are itching for a weapon. It’s a matter of time before he attacks me.
“Someone who betrayed him.”
With that growl, the dwarf reaches inside his beard and removes a small axe. Seriously? An axe? Hidden inside his beard? He’s a walking cliché.
But he’s seriously strong, and the blow of his axe against the angel blade makes my arms shake and my teeth clatter. He may be small, but he’s mighty, and I don’t have time for this.
“It’s a shame what I had to do to Tate,” I remark as I try to circle the dwarf. I need to get around him if I’m to jet out of here, which is the goal. I didn’t come here intended to spill blood, and I won’t spill it again.
Unless I have no choice.
“He was a good man,” the customer says through gritted teeth.
“Good men don’t attack women without provocation.”
“You sentenced the women he loved to be imprisoned for the rest of her life.”
“I have many clients, and I can’t keep track of who’s dating who. There’s no show about who’s dating which supernatural being, so I’m not exactly in the loop. Sorry.”
“You should have—”
“No. You have no right to tell me what I should and shouldn’t have done. You aren’t my keeper, and I won’t have you judge me.”
“You’ve killed—” he started to shout.
“I’ve done what was required of me.”
“You killed Tate, didn’t you?”
“Did you forget the whole ‘good men don’t attack women without provocation’ thing?” I ask dryly.
“So you admit it!”
“I admit nothing.”
The dwarf gives a wild yell and swings his weapon. I sidestep and then don’t stop running, racing past the dwarf and heading straight through the still-open front door.
Before I can open the driver’s side door, someone else approaches, someone familiar this time.
Someone who immediately starts wailing.
It’s Sesse the banshee.
Is she keening me, or is she keening and mourning the death of her lover Dimitri?
Either way, I didn’t want to have to deal with her. Not right now. Not when there’s a very angry dwarf ready to come after me.
“Not right now, Sesse,” I snap.
The banshee stops wailing, hisses, and storms off.
Yeah, I had been a little short with her, but I really don’t have time this. Darius doesn’t have time for this.
Before I even shut my door, I already have the car on and am peeling out of there. I hightail it back to my place. A cop pulls me over, but it's a werewolf who knows me, and once he realizes who I am, he waves me away without another word. Yeah, there might be a few perks to this gig, but there are plenty of downsides, too, like the enemies I'm acquiring even if I didn't even know about them. Who knows how many more are lurking in the wings.
When I arrive at my place, I leave the car running, hop out, and race to the front door. I unlock it and enter.
Darius is gone.
What in the world?
“What a stupid, ignorant piece of…” I trail off when I spy a piece of paper on my coffee table. It’s a note.
Off to find some herbs. Be back soon. If you must know, I’m in the forest.
There's only one wooded area within walking distance of my house. I rush out of my place, lock it up, turn off my car, and run to the forest. It doesn't take me long at all to locate him. His pace is slow, and he's breathing hard. It's a good thing he doesn't need to hunt anything down to cure himself because I doubt there are many animals in a wide berth of him.
“I can’t believe you’re out here trying to find herbs to cure yourself,” I mutter.
Darius jerks around to look at me and nearly falls down.
I catch his elbow. “Whoa. Slow down there, partner.”
“I don’t need—”
"You need a lot more than my help," I retort. "You need common sense, among many other things."
“You need humility,” he counters on a whisper.
“Who needs humility when you’re the best human supernatural bounty hunter in the world?”
“You’re the only one,” he mumbles.
“Still the best.”
I guide him to sit onto a fallen log.
“Why don’t you tell me what to look for?” I ask.
“That’s just it. I’m not certain which will help or how to make the potion,” he says.
“You aren’t a potion maker, huh?”
“No.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yeah, and I don’t have water magic either.”
I slowly nod a few times. "It makes sense that water can heal." I side-eye him. "You aren't all that powerful."
“Arcane is one of the most powerful kinds of magic there is!”
“Yes, but it’s the only magic you have.”
“We can’t all be Mirella,” he mutters.
“I’m sorry. I should learn to think before I speak.” I hesitate, whip out my phone, and see a bunch of texts from her and several missed calls. “Okay, you sit here a while,” I tell him.
“Where are you going?”
“To collect herbs.”
“But you don’t—”
“I do.”
“How?” He narrows his eyes.
“A little birdie with a lot of magic told me.” I shake my phone at him.
“You told her?”
“I was desperate.”
“Desperate to heal me. Why can’t you just admit it?”
“Admit what?”
“That you can’t live without me.”
“I can live without you just like I can live without a hole in my head.”
“Ah, but what about your heart?”
I snort. “The poison must be affecting your mind because you’re talking crazy.”
He grins, but his face isn’t pale anymore. It’s turning gray. Beneath his eyes is so dark and black that he’s starting to look ghastly.
“Don’t move,” I beg.
“I don’t want to,” he admits.
“Good. Well, not good, but you know what I mean.”
Feeling like a bumbling idiot, I leave Darius behind and consult my phone. A harpy feather I have back at my place. A griffin’s tongue I know I can barter for. Emerald broadleaf is actually a pink leaf that’s almost as big as my head. At least that’s what it looks like in the picture Mirella sent. It grows inside the Broad Tree, which resembles a pine tree, but moss won’t grow on it. It takes me a few minutes to find a pine-looking tree without any moss. With my angel blade, I slice into the bark and make a slight hole, large enough for me to peek inside. Yes, there are some leaves inside. After I widen the hole, I ease out a single leaf.
“Rebel?” Darius sounds so very faint behind me.
I rush back to his side, nearly dropping my phone in the process. There’s vomit all over the ground in front of him. He got none on himself at least.
“Let’s get you back home,” I say as I ease him to a standing position and drape an arm around his waist and guide his around my neck. “Well, to my home.”
He starts to laugh. It’s the weakest sound, and he moans. “Don’t make me laugh.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“You had… to clarify…”
“I know you know it’s my home and not yours, but… Watch your step.”
He can barely walk fast at all, and his feet aren’t lifting much either. We’re standing in front of a tree root, and I have to bend down and lift his one knee and then the other to get him to cross.
“You’re weaker than a—”
“Don’t.”
“What else is going on with you?” I ask.
/>
“I… My…”
“Use your words,” I say encouragingly.
“Chest…”
“Oh, is it tight?” I wince.
He stumbles, and I have to put my head against his chest in order to keep him upright. His heart is pounding way too fast, and he’s sweating. He must have a fever. The poison is working way too fast.
As quickly as I can, I bring him to my house and make him an ice bath. Then, I wait impatiently for him to feel cooler. I’m not about to wash him myself or dress him. He’ll just have to manage.
But I can’t leave him in the ice bath as much as I wish I could. What if he falls asleep and he ends up sliding down and drowning?
Eventually, enough time passes that I bang on the door. “Are you all right?” I call.
There’s no answer.
I don’t bother to knock again. I just barge in on Darius dressing and turn right back around. “Do you, ah, need help?”
Please say no. Say no. Say no. Say no.
He says nothing, and I risk peeking over my shoulder.
Darius has his pants on, but he’s struggling with his shirt.
Wordlessly, I help him dress and guide him to my bed.
“Sleep,” I tell him, “but only if you think you can be roused. Otherwise, don’t. I’ll be back soon. I just have to get a few more ingredients and trade for one, and then… you’ll be fine. You’ll be—”
Darius grabs me, pulls me close, lifts up slightly, and pukes right on me.
“Nice. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
I rush out of there, grab the large bowl I use for popcorn, and return to his side. “Puke in this if you can, okay?”
I change, throw my dirty clothes into the wash, and rush back to the forest to get the other two herbs. Then, I call in a favor with El. I’m done dealing with witches unless it’s absolutely necessary. We make a trade, and once I get rid of him, I call up Mirella. She’s here in a flash with a cauldron. It only takes her about five minutes to make the potion, and then she hands it to me.
“Let me know if it works,” she says.
“You can’t stay to see?” I gape at her.
She brushes her red hair back. “I can’t. I—”
“Work,” I mumble.
“If it doesn’t, I’ll come right back.”
Hunter's Revenge: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Rebel, Supernatural Bounty Hunter Book 2) Page 11
