The Immortal Huntress

by Kelly Hall

  Ignis didn’t pause for privacy. Anything discussed in Solomon’s Key was immediate public record because the bastard Gaius had never been able to keep his mouth shut. Now all inquiries were made in the open, in front of anyone who cared to listen.

  “I wanted to know if there’s been any talk about mages going to Earth to work with shifters.”

  Laughter rippled through the crowd behind him, and Gaius chuckled too. “Mages working for shifters?” The man looked around the room at all the smiling, laughing faces. “I haven’t heard of such. Why, that would be as shameful as working with a human Hunter.”

  The laughter stopped, and Ignis knew it was time to go. Not because he feared the others, but because he wouldn’t stand and listen to anyone ridicule his friendship.

  Ignis gave a curt nod and then turned to leave. But before he made it to the door, one of the others stuck his foot out, blocking his path. Ignis came to a stop, thinking the Violet mage in his path wanted to pick a fight, but instead, the mage whispered, “Try Enoch’s Apothecary.”

  “I’ll do that, thank you.” The leg moved, and Ignis continued out, noticing the bells didn’t chime as he left.

  Ignis made his way across the street and over a raised wooden walkway, allowing passage over the muddier parts of town. He headed toward a small cottage and read the sign which was painted on the front window. Enoch had been his next stop for a different reason, but since the other mage had mentioned it, it wouldn’t hurt to ask old Enoch about shifters.

  He walked in, and just like at the pub, bells sounded out his arrival. The place looked empty, except for shelves packed with potions. Enoch’s wares were simple concoctions, barely requiring magic to make them at all.

  Most of Enoch’s customers were creatures who were passing through, so Enoch only sold the simple stuff. More powerful elixirs generally required magic to activate their effects, and they would be of no use to regular humans. Besides, the amount of work it took to bottle magic meant the prices for such things would be astronomical.

  “I’m back here,” called a voice.

  Ignis walked behind the counter to a door that he could only guess went to Enoch’s workroom. Instead, as he stepped up to the doorway, he found Enoch with his nose buried in a book. Beside him, a large black crow sat on a perch. It gave a caw that Ignis couldn’t help but think sounded like a cry for help.

  “Hello, Enoch, I’m not sure you’ll remember me.”

  Without looking up Enoch gave a breathy chuckle. “Ignis Fatuus, you dirty swindler. How could I forget?” The mage would have easily compared to a man of thirty on Earth, but his eyes held too much wisdom.

  Ignis shook his head. Goddamn, the people in this town know how to hold a grudge.

  Enoch turned his nose up to face Ignis. “Shall I turn out my pockets now and save us both some time?”

  “I’m not here to gamble, although if you have some dice, I could be persuaded to play a few games.”

  Enoch snorted a laugh and stood, straightening his coat to reach inside his pocket. He pulled out a snack and fed it to his bird. Then he breezed past Ignis and made his way to a stool behind the counter.

  “No, thank you. My wife still gives me shit about losing a month’s worth of profits. I’d like to avoid another fifty years of nagging.”

  Ignis nodded. “Surely, it hasn’t been that bad.”

  “Look what she made me put up.” Enoch pointed to the wall by the entrance, where Ignis’s likeness had been sketched in charcoal on yellowed parchment. Over his image, someone had written: refuse service or aid.

  “Ouch,” Ignis said.

  Enoch spread his hands. “Yeah, well I love my wife, and I can only barely tolerate you, so here we are.”

  “Can you at least update the damn thing? I forgot how ridiculous those sideburns were. But it was the seventies, I suppose.”

  “You’re lucky she didn’t add devil horns,” Enoch said. “But you didn’t come to hear about my domestic bliss, and you didn’t come here to gamble. So what are you here for?”

  “Information,” Ignis said. “I was hoping to find out something about mages going to work with rogue shifters on Earth. Has there been any talk of that?”

  Enoch kept his head down, his eyes fixed on something and yet nothing as his bird made a hell of a racket in the next room. “Quiet, Temple!” he snapped. “I’m sorry, the bird has become quite a chore, I’m afraid. But no, I haven’t heard about anything like that. It’s unlikely anyone aligned with the Mages’ Council would go to Earth to work with shifters. We tend to keep to our own affairs.”

  “True,” Ignis said. “They usually keep their heads up their own asses, not others’.”

  Enoch smiled. “I’m sure they’re no fans of yours, either.”

  Ignis shrugged. “I’m happy on Earth, away from their nonsense.”

  “Back to your question, if there is a mage on Earth working with rogue shifters, my money is on a dark mage. The evil warlocks of the Occultum have their own sinister agendas, and I suppose if their goals lined up, a warlock might work with shifters.”

  “Do you think a mage could be forced into helping them?” Ignis asked.

  “Anything is possible, but think about it this way. What would it take for a group of shifters to force you to do something against your will?”

  Ignis snorted. “They would need a fucking army.”

  “Exactly,” Enoch said. “Or they would need some serious leverage.”

  “Like maybe threatening someone the mage cares about.”

  “Sure,” Enoch said. “Or any number of other scenarios. If that’s the case, you’ll have to figure out what the shifters are holding over the mage’s head. My money is still on a warlock.”

  Ignis nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, that gives me a lot to think about. I have one other thing to ask.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Have there been any advances in magic along the lines of stopping time or life suspension?”

  Enoch frowned. “There aren’t any spells that I know of, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to make one, or that it hasn’t been done. Using blood magic, damn near anything is possible, although I hope that’s not what you meant.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m powerful enough without corrupting myself with dark magic like that. And once you start down that road, there ain’t no coming back.”

  “Indeed,” Enoch said. “Although speaking of blood, there might be another way. It does require blood, but as a spell component, not to power the spell itself.”

  “So, it’s not dark magic?” Ignis asked.

  “No, but it’s definitely controversial,” Enoch said. “What you need is to find some angel blood.”

  Warning bells went off in Ignis’s head. “Whoa, I’m not slaughtering an angel. How much blood are we talking about?”

  “A few drops might be enough. Their light would be better, actually, but getting that is even harder and you can expect a death sentence.”

  “But the blood; what could it do?” Ignis had always known angels were special, and their light was sacred, a gift given to them by God, but he had never heard of anyone using their light for magic. The very idea seemed blasphemous.

  “If you could glean a little of its power, you can create a spell that would put a human in a dream-like state.”

  A dream-like state wasn’t what he was looking for. He needed to perform a miracle. “I need it to stop aging and death for an unlimited amount of time.”

  “In that state, there is no aging or dying, so it’s exactly what you’re looking for.” Enoch gave a friendly smile. “I am most interested to see if you will pull this off, Ignis. Please tell me how it works out for you.” Enoch rose from the stool. “Is there anything else you need to ask of me this day?”

  “That’s it, thank you. But if I think of anything else before I leave, I’ll let you know.” Ignis gave a nod and turned to leave and walked to the door.

  Enoch called to him, “Be careful where yo
u go, friend. Some are not as forgiving as I am.”

  “Like your wife?” Ignis asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “Thank you. I’ll proceed with caution.” He gave a bow and then stepped out into the muddy street.

  He had but one more stop in Esper. He walked across the town square and took the backroad that used to take him home, back when it was home, and when he caught a glimpse of the small field where his family house used to be, he let his memories of the past wash over him.

  Thousands of years prior, he had been a shame to his people. He’d not only disgraced himself but Millicent too, and for that, he’d never forgiven himself.

  The mages were split into the Five Families, each one meant to be completely separate so they could watch over each other and ensure that no single Family ever became too powerful.

  Toward that end, the original Mages’ Council had decreed that intermarriage between families was forbidden. Intermingling the bloodlines would lead to shifting alliances that would unbalance the entire system. These draconian laws had since been relaxed, but at the time, the rules were strictly enforced.

  Ignis and Millicent were from different Families and prohibited from seeing one another. But Ignis couldn’t help himself, and although she’d professed her love, she’d also made it clear that she couldn’t see him. Ignis had thought there had to be a place where the two could exist, where they could be proud to show their affection for one another, but that place didn’t exist on Esper.

  Convincing her to go had been easy, but finding their way to Earth without her father, the tyrant, knowing what they were up to was the true challenge. Ignis had it in his head that his own people would be more understanding, that they would at least help the star-crossed lovers seek refuge until the time they could depart, but when he brought Millicent home, his family, fearing the stigma he’d bring upon them, threw them out.

  Millicent’s father found them and demanded Ignis return his daughter. The town was in an uproar, demanding justice and branding Ignis a traitor. After they stripped him naked and beat him, they carried him to the edge of town, to the swampy bog of Perdira’s Mire, and they tossed him in, leaving him to die.

  Knowing he would never see Millicent again, he died inside. He spent days living in the mire, hunting for creatures to eat. He had nothing, not even a stitch of clothes to cover his naked ass. That was when he met his Talia and learned how truly sacrificing love could be.

  He took a deep breath, breathing in the flowers as he turned around and left the field behind him, along with memories that were best not remembered.

  Chapter 15

  Father Timms had known Rebekah ever since he’d joined the ranks at eighteen. Now, thirty-five years later, she was still just as beautiful, and he was still just as loyal.

  After introducing him to the trainees and giving him a taste of the hologram room, she was ready to talk business.

  They walked the halls arm in arm, Rebekah making introductions as necessary. “Thank you again for coming.”

  Father Timms patted her arm. “I will always come running when you ask. At least, for as long as I’m able, and even then, I’ll have someone carry me.”

  “Well, you look incredible. The collar hasn’t slowed you down, I see.” She took a turn to go toward the front of the school.

  He smiled and gave a nod to Sister Frankie, who he’d already met. The sister kept her head down and her feet moving as she passed. He turned his attention back to Rebekah, not thinking much of the snub. “I’m busier than ever. But that’s the way it goes for some, and to think I thought I’d decided on a great retirement.”

  She gave a soft laugh. “You and me both.”

  Father Timms chuckled and stopped at the front doors. “The Immortal Huntress retiring? I would think you’d know better.”

  She gazed through the glass at the sky. “One can dream of a day where there is peace and no reason to hunt.”

  “Ah, the end of times, but then we shall be called home, and nothing will matter.”

  She continued on, passing the stairs and rounding the corner to Merik’s office. “You keep telling me that, and I just might believe it.”

  “Even the immortal cannot escape God’s final reckoning. You’ll see. There is peace in that valley, and if any immortal soul deserves a place in God’s house, it is you, my friend.”

  His words were always a comfort, but she wasn’t so sure of their truth. Did the murderers of vamps and shifters need redemption? If so, she was screwed.

  “So, tell me why you really called me here. I thought you had moved to Ireland.”

  She opened the office door and offered him a chair.

  “I had, Father. I actually bought a lovely castle. You know, my retirement plan. I’m afraid it’s been a while since I’ve been on the hunt. It took me and Ignis years to renovate the academies once the Church called us to do so, and I’m afraid the administrational side of things isn’t for me. Just when I thought I could enjoy the fruits of my labor, I got a call that the commander here, Merik Riley, who happens to be one of the last of my mother’s bloodline, had been killed.”

  Father Timms grimaced. “How terrible.”

  “Yes, and as terrible as that is, it was not only him, but also his second in command and an entire squad of trainees.” She leaned against the desk.

  His back stiffened. “That doesn’t sound right. Whatever were they doing?”

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t figured out what they were up to, but the scene and injuries pointed to signs of a shifter attack, as well as a dark mage. I have photos from the scene if you’d like to look at them. I hope that together we can find their dens and perhaps clear them out.” She pushed off the desk and went around to the drawers where she kept the file. “They’re a bit bloody, so it’s hard to tell exactly how they were injured.”

  “Have you not seen the bodies?”

  “Not first-hand. They were supposed to have been examined before I came into the picture by Elder John, and have all been returned to their families. All but Merik. I couldn’t bear to see him that way, but it seems he was gutted from the looks of these images. There is something strangely uniform about the wounds.”

  “Uniform? That’s something you don’t see every day.” The father pored over the photos. “I believe you’re right, though. How strange.” He’d never seen anything like it, as if each and every one of the men had died in the same exact manner. Their bodies, though lying in different positions, appeared to have the same wound patterns. Hands, face, and torso. The father got a sinking feeling. This reminded him of something he didn’t think he’d ever see in battle. “Do you have a magnifying glass?”

  “Yes, I’m sure there’s one in the desk.” She walked around to open the top drawer and passed it over as she lowered herself to the chair. “Do you see something?”

  Father Timms paled. “Are you sure there were wolves?”

  “I’ve never seen anything so bloody that wasn’t shifters. Vampires wouldn’t waste that much blood, especially from unmarked trainees.”

  “But you are certain dark magic and wolves were involved?” He scratched his head.

  “I could smell the shifters, and there, in that photo,” Rebekah tapped the picture, “you can see what looks like an oil stain. A closer look revealed that it isn’t oil but the residue of dark magic. It was moving. One of the trainees got it on him.”

  “Has he had any ill effects?” Father Timms had seen these kinds of markings before, but it wasn’t common.

  Rebekah shook her head. “Other than a tummy ache and severe nausea, no. Ignis said there wasn’t enough magic in it to even tell what kind of spell it was, only that he hadn’t seen anything like it before. I had hoped that he’d be able to find answers in Esper, so I sent him on a mission.”

  Father Timms pushed the photograph and magnifier across the table. “Have you heard of the Stigmata?”

  Rebekah’s skin crawled. “Yes, that’s when a person has the markings of
Christ’s crucifixion spontaneously appear on their hands and feet.”

  “And sometimes their heads and their side.” He pointed to several wounds in the photographs. Each one had the exact same type of injuries. “It might appear that their hands were bloodied in reaching for their wounds, but look closer. With the other wounds being as they are, I’d make sure you go have a look at the body if you could. I wouldn’t take the word of the Church.”

  “Let me take care of that right now. I’m afraid I’ll have to stop his cremation.” Rebekah picked up the phone and called the morgue, knowing the job could happen at any moment.

  “Go ahead.” He eyed the photos again, unable to take his eyes off the injuries. He’d seen much worse in his days as a hunter, but it had been a while. Being retired and working as Rebekah’s informant, he dealt more with keeping her in the loop and finding out specifics on certain subjects, but none as strange as this.

  Once she’d made arrangements to go and see Merik’s body for herself, halting the impending cremation, she hung up the phone. “That’s done. I’ll go down and see him as soon as I can. If this is the Stigmata, then it’s obviously some kind of mockery to God, is it not?”

  “It would seem. Demonologists talk about people being attacked with three marks, a mockery of the holy trinity, so it’s possible. Perhaps one of your enemies doesn’t like the hunters’ affiliation with the Church.”

  “It has to mean something. I’ll get to the bottom of it, but I’m afraid I’m not done asking favors.”

  “Then it seems I’m well-needed.” He gave a half-hearted smile. He liked being of service to his Huntress, to whom he’d given his life in service so long ago. He never saw it as a mission for the Church, but for humankind.

  “To start, this place is a dump. The trainees are eating horrible food, the hologram room is malfunctioning, which could be to their benefit actually, but even their uniforms are about as basic as it gets. I’ve seen their issued weapons, and I’m sure they are leftovers from your time—no offense, Father. All of this when they are supposed to have the same allowances as the others. And if I hear the word budget again, I’m going to scream.”