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

by Nicole Zoltack

  “No. She was a gamer who didn’t have priorities.”

  “She had been, what, sixteen? Sounds like most sixteen-year-olds.”

  I ignore him and reach into my pouch. “Do you have anything I can use on my nose?”

  He pulls away and rips a part off the bottom of his shirt. I apply pressure to my nose even though it makes me want to jump out of my skin. Man, does that hurt!

  “Please don’t retreat into yourself and bottle everything up,” Darius pleads.

  “You want to know what’s on my mind.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “I want to know what’s wrong with you. Why are you sticking around? I’m toxic. I’m poison. If you stick around me, you’ll end up dead. You should leave now while the going’s good.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Why? Your hero complex won’t let you?”

  “Are you infuriating? Yes. Do you make me want to rip out my hair? Yes. You saved me.”

  “Because you were stupid, and you were only stupid because of me. See? I’m no good for you.”

  “You saved me. You went to great lengths to save me.”

  “Nah. I didn’t have to do that much. Just find a few ingredients and barter for one. Not a big deal.”

  “You keep telling yourself that. You care.”

  “Darius…” I hesitate. Do I care?

  No. I can’t.

  I won’t.

  “Everyone I love is dead. My parents. My brother and his wife. Everyone.”

  “I know you’ve pushed people away. I know you don’t want to have friends, but guess what? You do. That fairy? Mirella? Azir and Ruka? Me?”

  “We aren’t friends.”

  “You were supposed to kill me from the start. You didn’t. Admit it, Rebel. There was something between us from the start.”

  "Nope. I was just looking for a reason not to trust Morena Moriarty. She wanted you dead, but she played a game… Why do you think she gave the wrong name for you?"

  “Maybe because I’m a little famous in the paranormal world.”

  “For what? I assume you don’t mean being fired as a paranormal executioner.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “No, I mean because I took out a cerberus and a chimera at the same time.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.” He gives me a lopsided smile. “Still think I’m a weak witch just because I only have one type of magic?”

  “Okay, I guess you’re somewhat powerful.”

  “Somewhat? You wound me.” He clasps his hands to his chest.

  I want to smile. He’s trying to cheer me up, and I appreciate that, but I just can’t. I’m far too shaken up, and to be honest, I’m more than a little worried that I might not be able to have my revenge after all. For the first time, I’m scared I might die in the process.

  “My brother did a science experiment on zombies once,” I tell Darius.

  “Way to change the subject.” Then he frowns and tilts his head to the side. “Not on real ones, right?”

  “Of course not. He just did a bunch of research on how they might possibly exist, how slow they would have to be because of lack of blood circulation, and so on. He tried to prove that zombies couldn’t possibly ever exist.”

  “That sounds fascinating,” Darius says. “What did he become? A doctor?”

  “No. He only ever received a bachelor’s degree in physics. He originally thought about going for his master’s, but he never did. To busy hunting down vampires, I guess.”

  “Physics.” Darius shudders.

  “You seem to be personally affronted by the subject.” I eye him curiously.

  “Yes, I attended Magical Hunters Academy, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t learn the sciences beforehand. My parents had me attend a prestigious school even before the academy, and I also had tutors. You would be surprised how much physics and geometry play a role in magic.”

  “Ah. Angles and such.” I nod and then shrug. “I only have my GED. After Mason and Gracie were murdered, I didn’t want to continue schooling. I didn’t study much for it. I just wanted it out of the way, you know? No continuing education for me.”

  "You have common sense and street smarts. Most people lack both."

  “Yeah, well, I would’ve thought the same for Mason and Gracie considering they were monster hunters.” I rub my arms. I’m not so much cold as feeling alone and needing to feel touched. A part of me wants Darius to touch me, to hold me, but I don’t want to admit to weakness. Even now, I don’t want to be vulnerable.

  Especially now. After that disaster with the cainian…

  My eyes close, and a shudder jolts my body. All I wanted for so long was a chance to go against the one responsible for my misery and guilt. My chance came, and it will come again, but will I be more prepared next time? And if I am more prepared, the cainian might not play. If that’s the case, I’ll end up the cainian’s next meal.

  I blink furiously to keep the tears at bay. “Why?” I whisper, the word hardly audible.

  “Why what?”

  “Why didn’t the cainian kill me too?”

  “If cainians do have foresight, they thought you would do something they wanted.”

  “Like what?”

  “Maybe one of the targets you killed could’ve made a positive difference for society.”

  I wince and swallow hard. “I guess so.”

  We’re silent for a long moment. My nerves are shot, and I keep turning one thought over and over in my mind until I blurt it out.

  “Do you think that they already know the outcome? That I’ll fail in killing them? Maybe all of this, all of my training, all of my bounty huntering… Maybe they've been laughing behind my back because they know my days are numbered. They know I'll die, that I won't kill any of them.

  “You can’t think like that. I mean, you fought one, and you’re barely injured.”

  “Only because he held back, and you know it.” I shake my head sadly. “I could feel the restraint in each blow. Darius, if he struck me as hard as he could, he would have snapped my back in half. He would’ve broken my neck. Hell, maybe a judo chop would decapitate me.”

  “You can’t think—”

  “I can, and I do.”

  Darius stares at the rapidly darkening sky. Soon, we aren’t going to be able to see each other. Maybe we shouldn’t. Nothing good can come from our continued association. Darius or I or both of us will end up killed. I should push him away, say something unforgivable.

  But I know he would see through it. He would know why I’m saying those hurtful words, and he wouldn’t leave.

  Somehow, he’s become family. Him and Vinca and even Mirella.

  I have people I’m terrified of losing, and I never thought I would be foolish enough to let others in. My family is my weakness. It’s always been that way.

  “Maybe they want you dead,” I finally say.

  “If you think that’s going to get me to leave your side, you’re wrong.”

  “Think about it. You have no ties to them other than through me.”

  “Are you going to continue to go after them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then so am I.”

  “Because you want to die,” I say, frustrated.

  “Maybe it’s because I have nothing to lose.”

  Shadows cover his face as he stares straight ahead. A piece of me melts while another hardens. He has nothing to lose. That means he doesn’t consider me his. Which is a good thing. I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone.

  But I also don’t belong to myself. I’m an agent of revenge, twisted in darkness, fueled by guilt and rage and anger. I’m losing myself to my quest, to my revenge, and I don’t know if I like who or what I’m becoming.

  “My brother used to make music,” I tell Darius. “He would get lost in the notes, in the songs. He could sing, and he took sax lessons for a while, and he taught himself how to play other instruments. For the longest time, I tried to talk him into
making a CD and trying to make it big as a music artist.”

  “Did he ever?”

  “No. For the longest time, I resented him for ignoring my advice, but I think I understand now. He loved music, but he didn’t want it to become work. It wasn’t his life. Not that physics was either, obviously, since he basically gave it up for vampire hunting. A man named Damon Blake saved my brother and Gracie from vampires and died for it. That had been the turning point in Mason’s life. Not his love of music. His love of a friend that he only knew for a few hours. That meeting turned his life completely upside down. It changed everything for Mason more than music ever did.”

  “Hmm. You know, I could say the same about meeting you.”

  “Can you imagine where I would be right now if I had killed you?”

  “Where do you think you would be?”

  I climb to my feet. “I would be dead.”

  “Come on now. You don’t know that.”

  “Or I would be very soon. Darius, I may have saved your life by going against my client, one of the only times I’ve ever done that, but… You’ve saved my life too.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” he says quietly.

  “Are we friends?”

  I hear him stand more than I can see him. He tucks some of my hair behind my ear.

  “Yes, we’re friends.” He laughs and steps back, which allows me to breathe again. “I wouldn’t have dug into dragon dung for someone I hated.”

  “That’s good to know. I wasn’t sure if you were thinking about a career change and becoming a paleontologist or something where examining animal droppings is the norm.”

  “Nah. I have very specifics skills, and I think those skills can help you.” He chuckles, and I can hear the smile on his face. “Did you ever sing duets with your brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you can sing too?”

  “Anyone can sing. You’re asking the wrong question.”

  “Maybe one day, you’ll sing for me.”

  “Maybe,” I mutter darkly. “I haven’t sung since Mason was killed.”

  “Then maybe after you have your revenge you will.”

  Doubt threatens to rush back in, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

  “Maybe after. Come on. We need to find a better place to sleep. In the morning, we need to get back to work.”

  “Yes, slave driver.”

  I grin even though he can’t see it, and I knock my shoulder into his. “No. Yes, partner.”

  Chapter 22

  It’s Darius’s idea that we go to Harrisburg, to his old place. This is where we met, where I attacked him. Who knew how close we would become despite that chance encounter. It’s more than I can bear, thinking about how much I’ve come to lean on him, and I almost killed him. For money.

  And I have killed before. For money.

  My profession never bothered me before, but now, it’s beginning to. I’ve killed just because I was paid to. I’m a special brand of evil.

  No wonder the cainians allowed me to live. They knew what I would become, what I would do.

  They approved.

  They wanted me to kill.

  And now, they’re probably laughing to each other at the joke of an idea of a human girl trying to go up against them when the paranormal executioners of the world don’t even bother to.

  HEX U is a joke. Magical Hunters Academy is a joke. Why can’t either of those organizations do something about some of the greatest evils that walk the face of the Earth?

  As much as I want to hurry to go visit Luna, she’s most likely asleep right now. Not only that, but my body is bruised and beaten up, just like I am emotionally. Maybe things will look better in the morning.

  Yeah, I doubt that.

  Darius offers me his bed, but I decline and opt for the couch. The sofa’s hard, but the pillow he gives me is fluffy, and the blanket is warm. My eyelids close almost of their own accord, and I’m sleeping in no time.

  “Tiffany Rose.”

  Mason’s calling me. Ugh. I do not want to wake up.

  “Tiffany Rose. Come on. We’re going to be late.”

  “Late for what?” I grumble, my words muffled because I’m talking into my pillow.

  “Come on. I have something to show you.”

  With a groan, I sit up. I'm at Mason's place, in my room, and he looks clean and put together, like he always did. Actually, after Mom and Dad died and he took me in, then Mason didn't quite look like he stepped away from a photoshoot all the time. His hair wasn't always brushed, his clothes wrinkled. There had been signs that not everything was right with him, but I never noticed them.

  A dream. This is a dream. I don’t care. Mason is here, and I scramble out of bed to hug him, only he’s already out the door.

  “Come on, Tiffany Rose. I don’t want to be late.”

  “Late for what?” I repeat.

  I start to follow him but pause when I realize I’m wearing pajamas. Who cares? This is a dream, so I rush to catch up to him.

  “Where’s Gracie?”

  “She’s already there.”

  “Wherever there is,” I grumble. “You and your secrets. That’s why you ended up dead.”

  “So you think.”

  I furrow my brow. “What?”

  “Come on.”

  Mason waves me ahead. I blink, and we’re outside somehow, walking up a hill. My stomach churns as I recognize the area.

  “Mason, it’s not my birthday, is it?” I ask, trying to hide any desperation or fear in my voice. It can’t be. I do not want to see—or rather not see—his death again.

  “Were you always this talkative?”

  “I seem to recall you answering questions more,” I counter.

  “Hmm. Only when you ask the right questions.”

  “What’s the right question?”

  “If you have to ask, you’ll never know.”

  “Ugh. Seriously? Grow up, Mason.”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “Can’t grow any taller, just wider.” I grin.

  He stops walking and eyes me without a word.

  I shiver. Mason knows he's dead, doesn't he? I've never had a dream like this before, and I wish I would wake up already. I'm not sure I want to see what he wants to show me.

  Finally, we arrive. There’s a tombstone, a real one, for Mason. No, wait. It’s for Mason and Gracie so who is the second one for?

  My heart pounds so swiftly in my chest that I feel pain. Isn’t it impossible to feel pain in a dream? But I’m hyperventilating. I can’t breathe, especially as I read the second tombstone.

  Here lies Tiffany Rose Quinn. A rebel and a moron.

  “Seriously? Mason, that’s not funny. Mason?”

  I whirl around, but my brother is gone. He’s disappeared.

  Like a ghost.

  I shiver and turn back to my gravestone.

  Here lies Rebel. A merciless mercenary who died all alone.

  My lips scowl. The letters rearrange before my eyes to give a new epitaph.

  Here lies Tiffany Rose, Rebel, the one who thought she could play at being a god and kill those she wished. Consequences and karma got her in the end.

  Nice. Cool. My dream is punking me.

  Just then, a hand shoots out from in front of Mason and Gracie’s gravestone. Soil scatters everywhere as Gracie pulls herself out of the grave. She stares at me, blinks her unseeing eyes, and lurchers toward me. A zombie.

  I step back and fall. The earth has ripped apart to form a large whole, and I land hard on my back. Dirt piles in, covering me, burying me alive. I try to sit up, but my back is broken, and I can’t move. My mouth opens so I can scream, but dirt falls into my mouth. I spit and gag and cry. Just as the darkness threatens to swallow me whole, my eyes open.

  “Ah, I was just about to wake you,” Darius says. He gestures toward his set dining room table.

  I nod curtly, shove aside the blanket, stand, and march to the table. The eggs, toast, and bacon look de
licious, but I glare at them. The eggs are runny and look like yellow blood. The toast is mud-colored, and the bacon almost appears to be a worm.

  “What’s wrong? Didn’t you sleep well?” he asks.

  “Of course I didn’t sleep well.”

  “I offered you my bed.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered where I slept. Let’s just eat and see Luna.”

  “Are you worried?”

  “Of course I’m worried. I need a weapon to defeat the cainians. Hey, maybe the stone you found, the citrine, maybe it can be forged to create a second weapon. If you’re going to go up after them—”

  “You know I won’t abandon you to take them all on yourself.”

  “—then you’re going to need a weapon too.”

  Darius smirks. “Why do you think I risked going back?”

  “For yourself. Not for me.”

  “For you in a roundabout way.”

  “You’re a fool.”

  “Perhaps, but then I’m in like company, aren’t I?”

  I give him a lopsided smile and shake my head. “I’ll let that insult slide.”

  “So you’re allowed to insult me, but I can’t return the favor?”

  “Some favors aren’t meant to be returned.”

  “I see.”

  I start to eat. The food tastes a lot better than it looks. My nightmare really affected me to see the food like that.

  “You’re a decent enough cook.”

  “Are you?”

  “I hate cooking for one. It’s terribly lonely.”

  “Don’t tell me you have a lot of frozen foods programmed into your food diary.”

  “Not a chance,” I retort. “Just because I hate it and it’s lonely doesn’t mean I never cooked for myself. On the contrary. I’m not quite organized enough to meal prep, but I love Italian food and chicken.”

  “I thought carbs were evil to you health nuts.”

  “Carbs are energy. They’re important.”

  He just grins.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t deny the health nut part.”

  “I would consider myself more a fitness nut, but yes, I care about my diet when I’m not gearing up to have my revenge.”

  “What do you do for fitness?”

  “Lift weights and karate.”

  “Karate.”

  “I’m a black belt,” I say proudly.