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

by Nicole Zoltack

  “Rebel,” Darius says.

  I ignore the witch. “Do you know how they decide who to kill?”

  “I believe the cainians have a sense of foresight.”

  I frown. “And they use that to determine who to kill?”

  “Yes. I would not be surprised at all to learn that they have killed many times over the people who could cure cancer or bring about true peace in the world.”

  “They don’t just pick their targets randomly?” I ask dubiously.

  “Oh, I am certain they kill whoever is closest when they are hungry or thirsty, but they also do target certain persons.”

  “Like…”

  “A certain archduke.”

  I gape at him. “Franz Ferdinand? But I thought he was assassinated by…”

  “A cover-up. A cainian killed the archduke.”

  “To start an entire world war.” I shake my head. “Instead of the battlefields being a feast for the crows, the cainians could have feasted on the fallen.”

  “I’m certain of it. They are very much like vultures, but cunning ones, terrible ones.”

  “If they have foresight…” I hesitate and glance at Darius.

  “Do you think they targeted Mason and Gracie?” he asks me.

  I bite my bottom lip and shrug. I so badly want to pace right now, but I force myself not to. “Why didn’t they kill me?”

  “Will you let me impart my knowledge, or will you persist on talking?” Falfar asks, more than a hint of annoyance coloring his tone.

  I wave for him to go ahead.

  “I never intended to become entangled with their kind, but they attacked our village. Many were killed. Only ten of us managed to flee. I hated myself for leaving, and I went back. I tried to kill them, but they killed me.”

  “Did they…” I rub the back of my neck.

  "Clearly, they did not eat my body, or else I would not have been able to transform into a ghost," he says flatly.

  “Oh, right.”

  "Most of our houses were made high up in trees, but we had a few stone ones on the ground. They took great pleasure in destroying the treehouses, but they avoided the stone ones."

  “They didn’t want to end up like Cain,” Darius says.

  "I can only suppose that they do not like stones, no. The earth, too, will reject them."

  “But the earth was almost guilty in Abel’s murder too since it drank his spilled blood,” I say.

  “Earth magic might work against them,” Darius muses.

  “Perhaps,” the elf says doubtfully.

  “Were they in their animal form?” I ask the elf. “What do they look like as humans?”

  "From behind, they appear human. They're muscular, like bodybuilders, usually with curly dark hair and facial hair. Their faces, though, are monstrous. They aren’t human. They’re twisted creatures, and they know nothing but feeding and killing. They must be stopped!”

  “I plan on it. I swear I will not rest until they are all dead.”

  “Destroy them, Rebel. Destroy them all…”

  “What else can you…”

  But it's too late. I can't ask the ghost any more questions. A brilliant light surrounds his form. When it disappears, he's gone.

  He’s moved on.

  His purpose in his second ghostly life has been fulfilled. He’s found the one he believes can have his revenge for him.

  Me.

  I lower my head. “Don’t worry, Falfar. I will do what I can to kill them. Thank you for sharing what you know.”

  “That was incredible,” Darius murmurs.

  “I never saw a ghost move on before.”

  He shakes his head. “The idea of the cainians having foresight terrifies me,” he says.

  "Me too, but if they do… Do you think they killed my brother and his wife specifically to turn me into what I am?"

  “Do you think they’re toying with you? That they’re bored and want a challenge?”

  “Honestly, I don’t think killing me would be that challenging for them at all.” I flop back onto the couch.

  "Why else would they have left you alive, though?"

  “They did create me, that’s for sure, but why? Are they hoping to use me? They have to know that I would never accept a job from them.”

  “They might not give you a choice.”

  “What could they possibly want to hire me to do? To kill someone? They could just kill the person themselves!”

  “Maybe they want you to keep a person alive.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Whatever they want, I want the opposite of.”

  "So, you would potentially kill an innocent just to spite them?"

  “Think about it, Darius. They wouldn’t want an innocent to stay alive.”

  Darius says nothing. My mind is a swirling mess. I don’t know if I can handle everything that’s heading my way, but I will do what I can to kill the cainians.

  And not just for Mason and Gracie.

  For the sake of the entire world.

  Chapter 20

  My stomach growls, and Darius laughs.

  “When have you last eaten?”

  I shrug. “I’m not sure.”

  “And slept?”

  “Not that long ago. Before I battled the glatisant.”

  "I'll make you something to eat, and then you should sleep."

  “Why should I do that?” I ask. “There’s so much to do yet.”

  “Maybe so you can be more productive and on your game instead of just relying on adrenaline all the time.”

  “Don’t knock adrenaline.”

  “The idea of you drinking coffee terrifies me.”

  "Then, it should make you feel better to know that I despise coffee."

  “You do?” He shakes his head as he walks to the kitchen.

  I trail after him. “I like the smell, but it’s too bitter.”

  “You need one of those fancy kinds.”

  “No thank you. I prefer to eat my calories, not drink them.”

  “Ah.”

  I whip out my phone and show him my food diary.

  “You’re a little obsessive, aren’t you?”

  “Considering I haven’t been eating enough lately, I think I—”

  “Wait, you even have a food scale?”

  “Not every slice of bread weighs the same so they have different calories, and like I said, I need to make sure I’m eating enough—”

  “More than a little obsessive.”

  I open my mouth to argue but then close it. He’s got a point.

  “What are you going to make me?” I ask as he checks out my cabinets.

  “I’m not sure yet. Why don’t you get changed into something comfortable?”

  “This is comfortable,” I protest.

  “Fine. Then into something that doesn’t have blood on it.”

  My eyes widen, and I check my clothes. The glatisant’s blood hadn’t gotten on me, had it?

  He chuckles. “Made you look.”

  “So mature.”

  “That’s me.”

  I shake my head but can’t help smiling as I head to my room and my closet. Lounge clothes? I have none. More times than not, I don’t even change out of my bounty hunter attire and just fall asleep in it only to swap the clothes out for another set the next morning. I’ll brush my teeth before bed, but I’m too tired to change my clothes before catching some zzzs.

  My pajamas consist of white t-shirts and pants, but I just don’t feel as comfortable in them so I swap into another outfit. Darius takes one look at me as I reenter the kitchen and shakes his head.

  “What?” I sniff. “Smells good.”

  “I can whip up a mean omelet.” He hands me a plate. “Your lettuce is going bad, but the spinach is okay.”

  “You were going to put lettuce in the omelet?”

  “No, but I threw it out for you.”

  “Cleaning up my fridge. What’s next?”

  Just then, the dishwasher kicks on.

  “Ni
ce. Maybe I should keep you around. Just to do chores and stuff.”

  He grins. “Is that the only reason?”

  “Yep. Just to use you.” I cross over to the dining room table and sit down.

  Darius sits across from me. “Some people want to be used.”

  I choke on my bite and cough, thumping my chest with my fist. “Excuse me?”

  “You know Sweet Dreams? By the Eurythmics? What did you think I meant?”

  “I think you’re a bit crazy.”

  “I am to continue to be hanging out with you.”

  I pause with my fork halfway up to my mouth. “You really should stop hanging out with me. I’m a hazard to your health.”

  “You never told me to go through the dragon stool.”

  “No, but you only were in that position because of me.”

  “I wanted to be there,” he protests. “You can’t tell me to stop.”

  “You really do have a hero complex.”

  “In a twisted way, you do too.”

  I can’t argue with that, and I glare at him as I finish the omelet.

  He takes my plate before I can shift my chair back to stand.

  “Did you like it?” he asks.

  “It wasn’t bad,” I tease him.

  “It was five eggs.”

  “No way.”

  “Yep. That was how many you had left, and they were going to go bad soon.” He puts the plate in the sink.

  This is getting to be way too strange for me, and I can't handle it. It's all domesticated and too much like an old married couple. No way can I handle that.

  I head to the front door.

  “Where are you going?” he asks.

  “Out back.”

  “Why?”

  “To blow off some steam.”

  “I thought you were going to bed?”

  “No. That was your idea. In fact, if anyone should be sleeping, it’s you. You’re the one recovering from being poisoned.”

  “I’m—” A yawn interrupts him.

  I smirk.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He waves his hand and lies down on the couch.

  Still smirking, I leave the house and head around to the back. It's not ideal, and my neighbors hate it, but I have a target set up in the backyard. I put on protection for my ears and start to shoot.

  From the shadows of the forest, I spy movement. Animals should be fleeing the noise. Curious in an I'm-not-going-to-investigate kind of way.

  Pretending I don’t notice the entity, I fire three more shots at the target before shooting one above its head.

  “Whoops. Sorry about that,” I say sweetly.

  The being steps forward into the light. He looks like a man, only he isn’t quite human. There’s something off about him.

  “Are you?” he asks. “Sorry, I mean.”

  “Possibly.” I take a step back and lower my gun so as not to appear threatening, but something is off about him. My muscles are tight, and I’m ready to take aim if he gives me a reason to.

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “I don’t know who you are, and since trust has to be earned… No, I don’t trust you. I don’t trust strangers.”

  “But what if I told you we aren’t strangers?”

  I eye him critically, but I can’t place him. As much as he seems certain we’ve met before, I don’t know who or what he is.

  “Are you sorry?” he repeats.

  “Sorry about what?” It’s so hard to not point the gun at him. I don’t like how he keeps walking toward me each time he opens his mouth.

  “Sorry about your brother’s death.”

  My hands fly upward, and the barrel of my gun is pointed directly at his chest.

  “Who are you, and what do you want?” I snap.

  “Ah, there’s a bit of fire, but you lacked that the last time we met.”

  “When was that?” I ask, my heart sinking.

  “I think you might know.” He twirls a small object between his fingers like a girl might a baton.

  He can’t be…

  Can he?

  The being flips the object toward me. With one hand, I keep the gun trained on him, and I catch the item with my other hand.

  It’s a ring.

  A wedding ring.

  With the inscription: “You’re my light in the darkness. Love always, your Gracie.

  Mason’s wedding ring.

  I shove the ring onto my left thumb and fire shot after shot. None affect him as he takes them all, still advancing, his pace agonizingly slow.

  Once I’m out of bullets, I toss the gun aside and whip out my angel blade. If there’s anything I have on my person that might hurt him, it’s this.

  I race toward him, jump, and go to bring down the blade on his upper chest, but he backhands me. Air rushes out of my lungs, and I fall hard to the ground. My jaw and teeth hurt from the blow, and my knees shake as I climb to my feet.

  “You killed my brother, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” I’m screeching. I never screech. I try to remain in control of my emotions at all times, but I can’t. Not right now. Not when I’m face-to-face with my brother’s murderer, and I lack a weapon that can kill the bastard.

  “Oh, why must you focus on the negative? By your brother dying, you were birthed anew. We created Rebel. We gave you purpose. We gave you life.”

  “You gave me nothing but misery!” I come at him again, but he moves lightning-fast, pinches the top of my angel blade, and snaps it right off.

  “Rebel, what’s going on?” Darius asks, walking toward us.

  “Darius, get in the house,” I say through gritted teeth. The blade might be jagged at the end, but it’s still sharp, and I try to strike the cainian, but he’s too fast for me.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here? The paranormal executioner who liked killing a bit too much. I can’t say I blame you. Killing is fun, isn’t it? Oh, do stop, Tiffany Rose. You’re ruining our conversation.”

  I stabbed him right when he said, "Killing is fun," and the blade cuts his skin, but the second I pull back, his skin is perfect again.

  “Stop calling me that,” I say through gritted teeth, stepping back away from him.

  “I should, shouldn’t I? Since that’s not your name anymore. Rebel. A good, solid name. Perfect for one who has turned her back on all of the ideals she had been raised with.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Did your parents raise you to be a killer?”

  “Mason and Gracie—”

  “Killed vampires, yes. Unfortunately, they killed one of our suppliers of blood. We don’t always go out and kill. I mean, we usually did, but…”

  “Is that why you killed them?” I demand. “You could have left them be and found another vampire to—”

  “We could have, but we didn’t.”

  "And you left me to live. You kept me alive… why?"

  "Ah, the one answer you want above all others." The cainian grins, and that's when I see it. His eyes are too close together, and he has rows and rows of teeth. His blood is black, the veins dark against his tanned skin. He's a monster, all right, a terrible, foul one.

  “Answer me!” I scream.

  He just throws back his head and laughs and laughs.

  Rage has me rushing forward. I try to cut him with the angel blade, but he knocks me aside. Darius enters the fight, throwing arcane blasts, but the cainian shifts into a massive wolf-tiger creature. He has to be as tall as the first story of my house, shaped more like a wolf but the coloring of a tiger. His fangs remind me of a saber-toothed tiger. His paws are as big as my head. I know because he slams a part smack dab on my face. My nose bleeds like a sieve, and I’m oh so woozy from the blow. I don’t think my nose is broken, though.

  Darius keeps on fighting, but this is a losing battle. There’s no way we can survive. The cainian is toying with us, and I’m far too emotional to be able to fight with any kind of intelligence behind my actions. I’m reacting instead of calculating, and I’m fur
ious instead of detached and aloof.

  The cainian knocks me down with a blow to the side of the head. He stands over me. Oh. I’m on my back now. Great.

  My hand slips into my pouch, and I slide on my silver knuckles. Before I can think twice about it, I slug him right in his furry face.

  The cainian laughs. In this form, the sound is animalistic and terrifying.

  Quickly, I crawl out from under him and hobble over to Darius, who sends a blast around me, and I collapse into the witch's arms. A sprinkle of fairy dust, and we're out of there.

  Chapter 21

  We arrive in a field, a very certain field. I fall to my knees as tears run down my face. Am I crying because of the pain I’m in? Because of my failing?

  The one chance to actually have my revenge, to face and fight and kill the cainian who killed my brother, and I hadn’t been prepared.

  He knew. The cainian knew I didn't have the weapon, and that's why he came now. I am this close, and he knows it.

  “He was toying with me the entire time,” I say. My voice sounds weird. Maybe it’s because of my nose. Blood drips from it onto the grass as I climb onto all fours.

  “Rebel—”

  “Darius, he… That was… I can’t…”

  Darius helps me into a sitting position. “Where are we?”

  “Near where that cainian killed Mason and Gracie.”

  “You brought us here?” he asks, surprise coloring his words.

  “The location was on my mind,” I spit out.

  “Rebel, I know you’re upset—”

  “Upset is an understatement.”

  “I know. Now do you understand why I thought all of this wasn’t a good idea?”

  I glare at him. “Now really isn’t the time for I told you sos.”

  “I get that.”

  He sits next to me, and we stare into the distance. The sun is beginning to set. I feel like time is evaporating. How did it become so late? Where did the day go? I’m not even sure what day of the week it is.

  My body is literally trembling. I’m that shaken up. Darius wraps his arm around my shoulders, and I don’t even resist.

  “Tiffany Rose, huh?” he murmurs.

  I wince. “She died. He got that much right.”

  “I think I would’ve liked to have met her.”