Halfway Hunted - Halfway Witchy

by Terry Maggert

  I stopped while stifling a rueful chuckle; I had a suspicion we were no longer alone. “Turn around, Exit.” I rotated in place to see him do the very same. Three feet behind us, Alex and Anna stood purring, their enormous golden eyes hanging in the predawn air like the lamps of an approaching ship. They were both in cat form, huge and sleek and black, their bodies perfectly suited to stalk and kill. They were art made real, and I had a sudden surge of thanks that they were on our side. A latent tension in their bodies confirmed my suspicions; they’d been forced to shift by magic, and neither of them were happy about it.

  “Oh, well then. Good morning, friends.” Exit’s recovery was mannerly and instantaneous.

  The cats regarded us with bland feline stares, which could mean anything from warm regards to outright disdain. I resisted the urge to scratch their ears, but it was difficult. They were like supersized versions of Gus. What can I say, I like big cats.

  “Did you get the message about where to go? You know the place?” I knelt to meet their gazes, even though they weren’t much shorter than I was. Both of them confirmed our plans with laconic tilts of their great heads. Alex licked his lips, revealing fangs that were nearly three inches long. He looked like a mythical beast, but that might have been due to the fact that he was, in fact, a mythical beast. Or at least a highly unlikely one to be found prowling about in the Adirondacks. “Good. Have you found their trails?”

  Both of them shook an emphatic no at that. I wasn’t surprised, given that Dilly and Jonny were seasoned African guides. Even in heavy snow, they would be experts at hiding their tracks. I wondered how they were avoiding discovery.

  Exit cleared his throat with purpose. “Why would we try to stalk them if one of them is a spotter?”

  “I don’t follow.” Both cats perked up, listening.

  Exit pointed up. “He needs high ground or a wide clearing to get a shot off from any distance. Also, he used magic to cause their shift, correct? Well, how does he know the spell won’t, ahh, fade?” He shrugged through his heavy coat, a minimal gesture with maximum logic.

  “Huh. Well, you’re right.” I looked back at Anna, who began shifting from paw to paw as if the cold was bothering her. She couldn’t regain her human form, nor could she speak, but I knew what troubled her. “Emilia is at my house, with Wulfric and Tammy. She has two guns, a thermos of coffee, and the attitude to use all three if necessary. Your girl is safe.”

  Anna blinked once, slowly. The relief in her muscular shoulders was tangible, and I tried to imagine being forcibly removed from a loved one by magic. When Wulfric’s face snapped into my memory, I felt really bad for Anna. She was enduring a more intense form of the separation anxiety I’d endured during Wulfric’s time out in the cold, so to speak. Anna was tough. Not only was she ready to take action, but she did so with a heart that was heavy from the temporary loss of her child. I made a mental note to thank her if we all got through this mess.

  I looked to the east, where that curious hint of gunmetal suffused the night, indicating that dawn was not far off. “We’ve got about a half hour to get in place. Be careful, be silent, and above all else, be certain. We don’t want to give ourselves away. These men are professional killers, and they won’t give us a second chance.”

  Alex and Anna growled low, a primal, guttural noise that made my stomach go to water. Without a sound, they stalked off, their haunches low. In seconds, they were gone, the only evidence they’d ever been around being erased by the light breeze. The snow was grainy powder, and their tracks would vanish soon enough.

  I faced Exit to give the man my full respect and attention. I didn’t know if we would ever see each other again, and that possibility made tears spring to my eyes. “Be careful. You know where to go?”

  “I do. I know what to look for.” He hesitated, then added, “Carlie, you’ll be faced with the most important choice of your life as this day breaks.”

  “Which is?” I feared his answer, for it would be an uncomfortable truth if I was any kind of prophet.

  “Whether or not killing is justice.” He gave me a sad smile and turned to slip away in the same direction Alex and Anna had gone.

  I was forced to stand still as his words washed over me like an accusation, but only because I knew he was right. I wanted blood, but we needed justice. The two were diverging paths for me, and the only question was whether or not I could find the strength to hold back when the moment of truth came.

  As I began to walk deeper into the woods, I had no answers, only hope.

  Chapter Thirty-Five: Mirror, Mirror

  I was crouched beneath a maple tree when the bullet hit my arm, spinning me around with a muffled scream to land face first against the trunk. I hadn’t seen or heard a thing while watching Alex and Anna creeping closer to their position on the rock at the trailhead; I’ve met them both there before, and the location made sense since we all knew it. At my shout, the two werecats leapt up onto the granite outcropping, their eyes wide as they scanned the forest for signs of Pembrose or Jonny. I rolled over to shout at them to get down. They were clear silhouettes in the pre-dawn gray, and if I could see them through my haze of pain, so could the hunters.

  They heard me and flattened, even as a bullet whined away into the distance. The ricochet sparked less than a foot from Anna’s paws.

  Then, as soon as the chaos began, it stopped. Silence descended on the snowy meadow as I lay considering my wound. It hurt, but not badly enough to cloud my thoughts. I was on my back looking up into the brightening sky. To the west somewhere, Exit waited nearby. Alex and Anna were hidden in the crook of the two large stones that were still bulky shadows in the last vestiges of night. I took stock of myself with a small move of my arm.

  Bad idea.

  I hissed in pain at the wound, which began at the top of my shoulder and went downward through a hole in the muscle of my chest. Downward? How could I have been shot?

  “To be a capable hunter, one must think in two dimensions. To be an expert, one must think in three.” Dilly waved cheerily at me from the tree stand some thirty feet overheard. “You weren’t as good as the cats, but then again you’re young. I had hoped for more of a challenge, but a well-set trap is often reward enough.” He raised a rifle to his shoulder, still grinning lazily at me from his superior position. “It’s a pity you’ve no pelt for my collection, but I can assure you that those two will do quite nicely once they’ve been properly treated. If you only knew how long I’ve waited to add the last of that family to my wall. The years of groveling for jobs, leading drunken Americans on fake safaris when I should have been a lord. . . you can’t imagine the shame. I was so close to being noble, and then a freak of nature mauls my client and relegates me to the dustbin of memory.” He shook his head and smiled, a dead, sour expression that was heavy with hate. Even at that distance, I could see his teeth were overlarge and stained, like ivory chess pieces. “My hunt ends today, and it will be sweet indeed.” He lifted the rifle, squinting with practiced ease despite the close shot.

  Alex and Anna cut lose with roars that would terrorize any sane man, but Pembrose Dillingham was neither sane nor ordinary. The consummate hunter, he swiveled his torso to face them, eyes lifting from the sights of the rifle to confront this new threat.

  The sun, bless her, rose with a fury at that very second, striking the warlock’s mirrors that Brendan had propped on the rock outcropping in the dark of night. The blazing light leapt outward to blind Pembrose, who cried out, letting his rifle slip and nearly falling from the tree stand in sheer panic. I smiled up at him and raised my charms despite the bolt of pain that lanced through me from head to toe. Whoever said being shot doesn’t hurt has clearly never been shot.

  Pembrose already had his fill of sun, so now I would bring him the chill of the moon. My spell lashed out and up in a cone of brilliant, cold fury, encasing him with a swarm of blue points that danced like a cyclone. They swept over him, into him, and through him, each carrying a tiny bit of Luna’s
frigid dark side until his muscles began to slow, then freeze, and then stop him from moving altogether. The magic wasn’t done, though, as the spell’s secondary exploded inside him with a resonance that shook the meadow so clumps of snow rained down from every limb nearby. The evil Dilly, killer of innocents and hunter of men, tumbled forward to slam into the snow inches from my head, his eyes already glazed with death. A single squeaking breath escaped his lips in an errant puff, and he was still.

  “Exit? He—help,” I called out, but there was only silence. “Exit?”

  A scream of raw pain pierced the quiet, jolting me from my moment of rest. It was a man, and it was close. I began to struggle upward, but slowly. The pain sent stars through my vision, but I staggered up and leaned against the tree gratefully.

  “Carlie, stay still. I’m coming to you.” Exit began to march purposefully across the space between us, but not before looking down with a murderous glare. On the ground near the rock, Anna and Alex sat framing Jonny DePeuw, who had a curiously rock pick shaped wound directly in between his eyes. He blubbered incoherently, and I fought a giggle at his sudden descent into cowardice.

  “Not so tough when it’s a fair fight, hey Jonny?” I yelled, and then immediately regretted it. Okay, so even vigorous talking hurt. Good to know.

  “Stop bellowing, young lady. You’re shot, but to hear you one might think you’re drunk.” He put a stabilizing arm underneath me, guiding me onto the path that would lead to Jonny. Alex growled in approval. Anna just stared, but her bottom jaw dropped open in something like agreement.

  The walk seemed like a mile, but we arrived soon enough. The day was in full swing, and I snarled at the mirrors, still dispensing their relentless light onto the meadow. “Smash those things, please?”

  Exit didn’t hesitate. He let me stand next to Jonny, who quivered in fear at my feet. With a series of economical motions, Exit turned all four of the warlock’s portals into glass confetti. When the last of the shards fell, he turned to me with a grin. “They served us well. I’d say they were redeemed. But as to him?” His voice dropped to an ominous croak.

  “I have a solution. Step back, Alex, Anna. You need to be clear.” I felt the first delicious tingle of magic growing in my chest, its hot surge overtaking the gunshot and filling me with a wanton lust for harm. It was big, and my hand rose over Jonny as the morning sun turned my charms into brilliant points of silvery vengeance. The hunter sobbed, his face a blotchy mess of snot and fear and cowardice, and I drank it in like the finest wine I’ve ever known.

  Anna shifted, then Alex. They stood before me, naked and calm. I lowered my hand as Anna reached out, her face a mask of conflict.

  “We have forgiven him, and so must you. Let him rot, but don’t curse yourself, Carlie. If you do, you’ll lose Wulfric, and he’ll lose you.” She was beautiful with her facts.

  “I—you forgive him? But what will we do?” I felt the rage draining away in a jealous flood.

  Exit smiled, and it was a terrible thing. “Do you still have part of the warlock’s watch?”

  “Yes.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the heavy gears. They were fused together in like a child’s whimsy, but still ugly with latent power. “There’s still magic in it, if that’s what you’re asking me.”

  Exit’s face went smooth with triumph as he leaned close to Jonny, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss. “You look tired, friend. I think it’s time you took your rest.” I inhaled sharply, understanding what Exit was asking of me.

  Jonny looked on in confusion until I asked Exit, “Can a 1966 Land Rover get to the cave?” I may have found a car I couldn’t wreck. We were about to find out.

  “Easily.” His answer was swift and certain. Alex smiled. Anna laughed wickedly. She really did have an excellent flair for villainy.

  I looked at my arm, then decided. It would be justice, not blood. “I can’t carry him, and you two need clothes.” I leaned down to Jonny, who drew back into the snow like a wilting flower. “Jonny, you’re about to go down for a long winter’s nap.”

  His scream greeted the day, but was ignored by all who heard it.

  Epilogue

  Wulfric’s muscles worked like pistons as he smoothed the ash plank with a planer. I sat watching him in through narrowed eyes, letting the heat of his workshop add to my lewd thoughts. Sensing my careful observation of his work, he stopped and wiped his dripping brow. It was late spring, but stuffy in the space we’d rented for him to make canoes. Outside, the lake was warming, but not as fast as I was.

  “Come here.” I crooked a finger at him, refusing to give up my spot on his work bench.

  He dropped the towel and strolled to me in a slow, predatory strut that made me nearly insane for his touch. I kissed the nape of his neck. He smelled of sawdust and sweat, so I murmured into his ear, “Don’t think that you have the advantage, love.” I felt his smile as he began to explore my jawline with his lips, and they finally landed on my welcoming mouth. I drew away even as my legs twined around him, locking him to me with a finality that had only one key.

  “Take off your shirt. For now.” My voice was low, needful.

  He complied, returning to kiss me again with an ardor that was incandescent. I pulled him closer and let my tongue slide down the corded muscles of his neck to rest for a whirling moment on the delicious harbor of his collarbone.

  I bit down, hard enough that he flinched, before spinning me around to lean me against the overstuffed chair that sat glumly to our left. I lowered myself onto him as our eyes met in understanding. Our need was identical. Our path, clear.

  “You play rough, love.” He smiled again, before pushing my shirt free. The air was electric on my skin.

  I ran my tongue over my teeth as I shrugged out of the shirt and flung it behind me in a discarded whirl. There was blood in my mouth from his shoulder. I tasted it once, and then again, but languidly, watching the vibrant pulse in his neck for the first time. I couldn’t describe his flavor, not at first. Then it came to me as I lowered myself to him.

  His taste was . . . interesting.

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  About the Author

  Born in 1968, I discovered fishing shortly after walking, a boon, considering I lived in South Florida. After a brief move to Kentucky, my family trekked back to the Sunshine State. I had the good fortune to attend high school in idyllic upstate New York, where I learned about a mythical substance known as "snow". After two or three failed attempts at college, I bought a bar. That was fun because I love beer, but, then, I eventually met someone smarter than me (a common event), and, in this case, she married me and convinced me to go back to school—which I did, with enthusiasm. I earned a Master's Degree in History and rediscovered my love for writing.

  My novels explore dark fantasy, immortality, and the nature of love as we know it.

  I live near Nashville, Tennessee, with the aforementioned wife, son, and herd, and, when I'm not writing, I teach history, grow wildly enthusiastic tomato plants, and restore my 1967 Mustang.

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  More Books by Terry Maggert:

  Halfway Bitten

  The circus came to Halfway, and they brought the weird.

  When clowns, vampires, and corpses start piling up in town, Carlie has to break away from her boyfriend, Wulfric, to bring her witchy skills to the table- or grill, as the case may be.

  When the body of a young woman washes up in the lake, it unleashes a spiral of mystery that will bring Carlie, Gran, and Wulfric into a storm of magical warfare. Spells will fly. Curses will rain. Amidst it all, Carlie will make waffles, protect her town, and find out if a man from the distant past can join her in happy ever after.

  With love and honor at stake, Carlie has no peer.

  Halfway Dead

  Carlie McEwan loves many things.

  She loves being a witch. She loves her town of Halfway, NY—a tourist destination nestled on the shores of an Adirondack lake. Carlie loves her enormous familiar, Gus, who is twenty-five pounds of judgmental Maine Coon cat, and she positively worships her Grandmother, a witch of incredible power and wisdom. Carlie spends her days cooking at the finest—and only—real diner in town, and her life is a balance between magic and the mundane, just as she likes it.

  When a blonde stranger sits at the diner counter and calls her by name, that balance is gone. Major Pickford asks Carlie to lead him into the deepest shadows of the forest to find a mythical circle of chestnut trees, thought lost forever to mankind. There are ghosts in the forest, and one of them cries out to Carlie across the years. Come find me.