by Jamie Davis
“Power?” Naomi asked.
“The dead hunters entombed here. Somehow, they gifted me their energy. Didn’t you see all the ghosts come from their tombs? That was how I was able to escape and take on Handon in the end.”
“I saw nothing,” Naomi replied.
Her answer surprised Quinn. “I don’t understand. How did you know what I should do, then?”
“I’d hoped there might be some truth to the legends about the tombs in this place,” Naomi told her. “There’ve been stories told about them since long before I was born. Ever since Handon appropriated the ritual chamber after the purges, I kept waiting for the old power to come back like the stories said it would.”
Naomi turned to Quinn with a half-smile on her face. “I guess it took you to do it. I’m so proud of you.”
Quinn shook her head, “I was lucky, that’s all. I took a chance even coming here tonight. I just couldn’t let Handon get away with what he planned to do with the ritual components.”
Quinn looked down at the stone floor. The vampire lord stared at the ceiling. His wide, sightless eyes made his dead facial expression seem startled.
Naomi chuckled. “He won’t get away with anything like that ever again, thanks to you.”
A groan from behind them turned the pair around. She raised her Bowie, expecting a survivor to rise from among the bodies littering the floor.
She lowered the blade when she saw who it was and rushed over to Clark, still lying on the table. He rubbed at his battered head as he tried to shake off the last of the cobwebs from being knocked unconscious.
Quinn had many things she wanted to say to him. He hadn’t been honest with her about what had happened to start the purge here in Baltimore. She wasn’t sure she blamed him, though. It wasn’t his fault Myles betrayed his trust, but he should have told Quinn and the others about it, and about his connection to the VirSync CEO.
Clark sat up and looked around before spotting Quinn coming his way. His eyes widened and he rolled off the table, trying to pull Quinn out of the way.
“Quinn, watch out behind you.”
She turned to see what he was talking about, her knife coming up, ready to defend herself. She saw Naomi standing there, arms crossed.
“Clark, it’s okay. She’s with us now.”
“She can’t be. She betrayed the clan by becoming a vampire.”
Quinn spun around, anger rising inside her. “You accuse Naomi of betrayal? Are you sure you want to do that, Clark? I mean, Myles Hickman used to be your best friend or something, right?”
Clark closed his mouth but didn’t take his eyes off Naomi. “You don’t understand, Quinn. I didn’t know what he did until it was too late.”
Quinn nodded. “So, there were extenuating circumstances. I get it,” she agreed. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Same with her. If you have a problem with that, you can leave the clan. I won’t stop you.”
Clark’s head turned toward her. He started to say something but closed his mouth. He looked at the carnage around him and shook his head. “You did all this?”
“I did, with help from Naomi. I’m not a hundred percent sure how, but it worked out.” Quinn glanced from the carnage to Clark. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I was starting something new. I’m the huntress, and my new clan is open to everyone who’s proven they’ll fight for those who need protection, and who will stand by me when it counts.”
Quinn turned to look at Naomi. “That includes ghosts, tech witches, old washed-up hunters, and you, if you’ll accept the offer.”
“I’m not sure I have anything I can teach you. Clark has already taught you so much, and you somehow manage to accomplish the impossible.”
Quinn laughed. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Besides, I can sometimes do the impossible, but the other stuff along the way I still need lots of help with. Maybe the two of you can team up to fill in the gaps.”
Clark glanced at Naomi.
The vampire met his gaze and nodded.
He nodded in reply and turned back to Quinn. “I guess we’re both in. So, what are we calling this new clan of yours?”
Quinn smiled. She decided to keep it simple. “The Huntress Clan has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The forge glowed white-hot as the smith pulled the crucible of molten silver from the coals. Quinn suppressed a shiver of excitement and anticipation as he turned and tipped the tongs holding the vessel until a thin stream of liquid metal poured into the clay mold.
Taylor, standing beside Quinn, put a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. “You don’t need it, you know. You’ve proven that.”
Quinn smiled. “It’s a promise I made to myself and to the clan. This is the first of many amulets. There’ll be one for each of us. This is an important step for us as we climb back to reclaim what was lost.”
“It is time, Huntress,” Princess Aurora said. “My smith must complete the casting process soon. The magic needs to be completed before then.”
Nodding, Quinn glanced at Taylor. “You’ve got this, right?”
“Miranda explained it to me, and I’ve read the ritual in the life tome. It’s complex, but not impossible.”
“So, that’s a yes?” Quinn asked.
Taylor nodded and stepped over to the small table set up by the forge. The crystal scrying bowl glinted in the faint light of the forge’s fire. Beside it lay the Ruby Heart and the curved silver dagger they’d recovered from the battle in the ritual hall.
“Princess?” Taylor asked, picking up the dagger and holding it out.
Aurora took the blade, gripped the hilt, and laid the sharp edge against her palm. With a hiss, she drew the dagger across her hand, closing her fingers to clench her fist, keeping the blood inside.
Taylor picked up the Ruby Heart and held it over the scrying bowl. The gemstone began to pulse with a glow from deep inside. She started chanting in low tones, speaking foreign words Quinn didn’t understand.
Aurora stepped forward and turned her clenched fist to the side above the Ruby Heart. She squeezed the muscles of her hand until a stream of bright red blood spilled onto the gemstone and formed a small puddle in the bottom of the bowl. The princess pulled her hand back and wrapped it in a clean white cloth.
Miranda hovered behind Taylor, whispering occasional instructions in her ear.
The tech witch finished her chant and set the gem down in the bowl in the center of the small puddle of blood. She turned and nodded to the smith.
The pulsing glow inside the gem intensified as Taylor chanted once more. The reflected light in the blood below soon became a glow emanating from the blood. Then the Ruby Heart’s inner glow faded as Taylor lifted it from the blood. The reddish glow from the liquid inside the scrying bowl remained.
Taylor set the gemstone down and carefully lifted the crystal vessel in both hands. She nodded to the fae smith, who used metal tongs to bring over the small clay mold.
Quinn tensed. She knew from discussions with her friends that this was the most challenging part of the ritual. The smith and the spell caster must work together to ensure none of the blood spilled outside the mold.
Taylor took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she tipped the crystal scrying bowl and poured the glowing fae blood into the mold.
The smith held the clay steady until the last drop entered the hole at the top of the mold. Taylor nodded, and he moved back to the workbench and anvil beside the forge. She set the bowl down and stepped back to stand beside Quinn.
Setting the clay mold down on the anvil, the fae smith picked up a hammer from the bench. He tapped twice on the mold, cracking the fragile clay until it fell away. A small silver amulet gleamed on the dark iron of the anvil.
The smith smiled and picked up the amulet in a gloved hand, using a tiny emery board to file away excess silver, smoothing and polishing the edges. He carefully wiped it with a soft cloth from the pocket of his leather apron. Then h
e turned to Quinn.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the original chain from the silver necklace her mother had left her. The fae smith carefully threaded the amulet onto the chain and turned back to the huntress, holding the necklace by both ends. The restored amulet swung in a gentle pendulum motion as he walked up to Quinn.
She nodded to Naomi, who was standing on her other side, opposite Taylor. The smith handed the ends of the necklace to Quinn’s mother.
Naomi smiled and moved until she stood behind Quinn. Reaching around her daughter, she placed the necklace around Quinn’s neck and connected the clasp. She let it drop into place and returned to her spot.
Quinn reached up and stroked the still-warm surface of the amulet where it lay against her shirt. She knew what Taylor had said was right. She no longer needed the necklace and its magical charm. Quinn had drawn in all the powers it contained and now held them within herself.
It had been essential to restore it, though. Its remaking signified the birth of a whole new clan. She turned until the forge was at her back. Her clan, the Huntress Clan, stood watching and waiting. The next move was hers.
Clark, the mentor, stood beside Aurora, the benefactor. Naomi, the mother, stood beside Taylor, the companion, and Miranda, the spirit guide, hovered just off the ground behind them all.
Quinn smiled. Her Huntress Clan now offered more than just a new start. It offered new hope for the whole world.
Jamie’s Author Notes
February 17, 2020
I marvel at how my books and stories reflect back on my own life at the time I write them. If you’re reading this, you’ve learned that Quinn’s quest to build a new clan is well on its way to completion. That quest is built upon her need to surround herself with a family of her own.
Many of us are lucky and have supportive families around us who help us when we stumble or fall down. I’m one of them and I count my blessings constantly. Most of that family is related to me, but I’ve surrounded myself with a family of author friends, too.
Family is more than just blood. I’ve been let down by blood-related family members on numerous occasions. Just because you’re related to someone doesn’t make them reliable. The people I count on the most are the ones I’ve brought into my life and kept close with over the years.
First and foremost is my wife. Wait, isn’t she part of your family already? Yes, but she wasn’t always there. She wasn’t born my wife. I met her and built up a friendship before we became romantically involved. She is undoubtedly the best of my found friends.
Others in my friend circle include friends I’ve made through various parts of my life. I mentioned the author friends who are there when I need help with my writing journey. This book and the whole Huntress Clan Saga exists because of my friendship with authors Michael Anderle and Craig Martelle.
Good things are created when the people you bring into your family circle collaborate. For you, it might be something as simple as a new deck, patio, or fire pit in your back yard. Friends helping friends is the cement that holds communities, large and small, together. I think it’s an important lesson to remember as division and divisiveness surrounds us all on social channels.
We all have unique differences and talents. Those differences aren’t a problem. They’re a strength. Quinn learns to harness all the various and diverse skills of those who end up in her clan. The people in her new clan shouldn’t get along and work together but they find a way to save the day, each pitching in where they can to help Quinn defeat the bad guy.
I hope you’ll take a moment and thank the ones who’ve helped you accomplish something in your life. It may be a blood relative, or it may be a close friend you’ve chosen to let into your life. Whoever it is, you’re where you are because of their help and support.
Until next time, thanks for reading my books. Peace.
Huntress Scout
Huntress Clan Saga™ Book 4
Chapter One
The breath whooshed out of Quinn’s lungs as the other woman’s fist drove into her solar plexus. Doubling over, Quinn twisted to the side, using the downward momentum to roll left and bounce back to her feet. She gasped to catch her breath.
Damn, she was fast. Too fast.
Her opponent’s dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. The woman smiled, her fangs showing. “Is that all you’ve got? This is going to be easier than I thought.”
As Quinn straightened, the drained stamina bar flashed red in her HUD. The boosted speed and strength flowed from her. She tried to hide the loss of her temporary advantage as the other woman squared up opposite her.
The vampire blurred, moving so fast, Quinn had trouble following her. Somehow, though, Quinn blocked all the incoming strikes, batting aside blows from hands and feet coming in complex combinations she’d never seen before. It was like trying to fight a tornado swirling around her.
There was no way she could keep it up.
Quinn didn’t know how to quit. She fought on, even without any strength left. It wasn’t like she had a choice. The damned vampire showed no sign of slowing.
At last, a kick at her ankles connected. Quinn hopped a little too late to avoid the sweep, and it knocked her legs out from beneath her.
A shout of triumph sounded from the other woman as Quinn toppled over and crashed to the unforgiving stone floor. The vampire followed her exultant cheer with a laugh. She bent down, exposing her extended canines, ready to clamp down on her prey.
Quinn tried to roll away from the other woman, but she had landed astride the Huntress. She pinned Quinn’s arms to the floor above her head.
The vampire leaned forward, bringing her fangs down to Quinn’s neck.
She whispered in Quinn’s ear, her cool undead breath tickling a little as she spoke. “You’re dead.”
“Enough!” Clark yelled.
Naomi sat up, still kneeling astride Quinn’s waist. “She’s not fast enough, Clark. Without some external source of power, her reserves run dry too quickly to maintain her in a fight against anyone with real skill.”
“Get off!” Quinn said, pushing at Naomi’s thighs so she could get up. With her strength sapped, she couldn’t budge the other woman.
Clark came over as Naomi stood and stepped to the side so Quinn could rise. He looked down. “She’s right, Quinn. You’ve been using things like ley lines and other outside magical reinforcement as a crutch. That’s my fault for letting you get away with it.”
“I’ve done just fine so far. I’ve saved you both—twice now for Clark, I might add.”
Naomi let out a mocking laugh. “I’ve survived all these years when no one thought I could. You almost died twice in that chamber against John Handon. If I hadn’t remembered the legends of the past clan leaders watching over the rest of us and pointed it out to you, you’d be a vampire, and we’d both be servants of John Handon right now.”
“I would have figured it out on my own. The spirits in that room spoke to me before you thought of it.”
Naomi scoffed and turned aside. She walked to the wooden table nearby, picking up a bag of fresh blood and sipping from it like it was a juice box.
Quinn pointed to her opponent. “She has a lot of nerve telling me I draw on external energy too much. Look at her refilling her reserves over there. It’s not fair.”
“No,” Clark barked at her. “It’s not. None of this is fair. You’re always going to be outnumbered, overpowered, and fighting from a disadvantage. Get used to it. The rest of the clans are gone, so no one else is going to come in and help you. You’ve got to find a way to build your internal reserves, Quinn. You might not like it, but your mother’s right.”
“Don’t call her that,” Quinn snapped.
Naomi flinched at the vehemence of the reply, a fact not missed by Quinn.
Deep inside, part of her regretted saying it, but in her current anger at both Clark and Naomi, she brushed it aside. She still struggled to adjust to having her mother around again. Quinn’s de
ep-seated emotional wounds from a difficult childhood in foster care did little to resolve her conflicted feelings.
Naomi put the blood bag down and pointed at the plastic jug of water and cups beside it on the table. “Come over and drink something. Then we’ll try it again.”
“What’s the point? I’m dry. My stamina is drained, so there’s no way I can match your speed and strength.”
“The point, my dear daughter, is that you’ve got to find a way to power through when that happens. We somehow need to supplement your stamina from within or learn how to increase how much you can store.”
“She’s right, Quinn. Drink some water while I think of some way to get you to do what any norm—” Clark stopped and didn’t finish the sentence.
“What? You were going to say I can’t do what a normal Huntress could do?” Quinn stared at Naomi. “I missed out on the training any other clan member would’ve had. There’s no fixing it, so that option’s out. I’ll never get that back, so it’s useless to even mention it.”
Quinn forced her clenched fists to relax and walked over to the table, where she poured herself some water. The cool liquid soothed her parched throat. As she drank and refilled the cup, she stared around the vaulted underground chamber. The walls, lined with carefully cut blocks of granite, had become their new home base. Since she’d vanquished the vampire John Handon and his followers, they’d moved their clan’s home to the tunnels attached to the back of O’Malley’s supernatural bar in East Baltimore.
She ran her fingers through her sweat-soaked hair and downed the second cupful of water. They’d been at this training session for over two hours this morning. Part of her short temper had to do with her exhaustion and dehydration. Realizing Naomi had once again proven to be right brought her quelled anger back.
Naomi raised a hand to rest on Quinn’s shoulder, but her daughter pulled away. Letting it drop to her side, she said, “You’ve accomplished more than I would have thought, Quinn. I need to remember that while we’re training you. Plus, you can do things no other Hunter has ever been able to do. Pulling energy from ley lines and other power sources for anything other than a few small spells or healing is completely new.”
