So not as planned.
I really don’t want to, but I shift the crossbow to one hand and grab my gun with the other. The alpha is far too close, and the shot might kill him at this range, but if I don’t pull the trigger…
I do.
The alpha falls.
The gun still trained on him, I approach, watching and then smiling as his chest rises and falls. He’s alive but unconscious.
Swiftly, I put a muzzle over his face and then struggle to put handcuffs on him. They aren’t just any kind of handcuffs. They’re magic dampening cuffs that I acquired from a former guard at the Magical Prison. Not every evil paranormal creature is hunted, slayed, or executed. I’m not sure how it’s determined if the creature goes there or is executed, but I’m grateful for the cuffs. Now, Wyatt Dane, alpha of the Blood Moon pack, is stuck in his werewolf form.
Like a jackrabbit, I retrieve the tarp I put into one of the trees earlier today. Getting said tarp beneath the alpha isn’t easy. Dragging him all the way to my car isn’t going to happen.
A low growl sounds behind me, followed by five more in even intervals.
I straighten and turn around, already bringing up my gun and my dagger. Ten sets of amber eyes stare me down. The entire rest of the pack is here and ready to tear me limb from limb.
“Hi, guys, girls. Nice to meet you. Don’t worry. This so isn’t what you think it is. I mean, you can hear his heartbeat. He’s not dead. He’s alive but sick. Yes, sick! I was going to take him to a friend of mine. He’ll be able to help him—”
The werewolves descend.
I’m a goner.
Chapter 6
Five of the werewolves move to surround the alpha as if to protect him. I backpedal. The crossbow is on the ground over by the trees. I’ll need it considering—
Bang!
I have no choice but to fire my last bullet. The closest werewolf to me lands almost at my feet. Man, that was close.
Three more close in, and I continue to move backward. One lunges at me, and I knock him or her on the snout with my now-useless gun. The wolf howls, and I grin. Why? I don’t know. I must be crazy, especially because when the wolf lunges again, I punch hard with the silver knuckles. The wolf staggers back, dazed but not out of the fight yet.
Another wolf jumps at me. This time, I race forward and then slide underneath the wolf as I bring up the dagger, slicing through the fur. Blood gushes out, thankfully, not on me because of the wolf's momentum. The wolf lands and turns around to face me as I stand, and then the werewolf promptly collapses.
The werewolves are a lot warier now, circling me but not attacking. Ugh. I have to get out of this somehow and with the alpha. If I can’t, I’ll never have another chance at him. It’s now or never, do or die time, and I don’t plan on dying yet.
Then again, no one plans on dying.
I brandish the dagger several times to keep the werewolves at bay. Two are wounded, while five surround around the alpha, and three circle me, ready to pounce soon. I can tell. This isn't my first showdown against werewolves, and they telegraph when they're going to jump by leaning back slightly before lunging. That time, though, I hadn't been up against quite so many.
Don’t tell me you’re a coward, Rebel.
The worst part about their circling? I can’t try to reach the crossbow anymore. It’s just out of reach, so close and yet so far. If one of the werewolves steps on it…
I wait until the crossbow is directly between two werewolves to strike. The dagger leaves my hand, thrown like a dart, and it punctures one in the ear, becoming a grotesque earring. It’s enough of a distraction that I race between them, snatch up the crossbow, and, in a practiced move, I whirl around, go down on one knee, and fire. The shot goes wide naturally since I didn’t aim, but it does cause the advancing werewolves to alter their course. That, in turn, gives me enough seconds to fire another shot. This one pierces a wolf right through the eye. With a whimper, he goes down.
A werewolf lands on top of me, and I have just enough time to toss my crossbow to the side before it can be smashed. Saliva drips from the wolf’s mouth.
"Disgusting. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" I grunt, trying to keep the mouth shut. Even the silver knuckles against her fur don't stop her from trying to bring her face down so she can bite me. "You really shouldn't be playing with your food, but then again, I'm not food."
It’s a gamble, but instead of using two hands to keep the mouth at bay, I use one. My other hand reaches for my boot. I have another one tucked away if I can just reach it, but she weighs so much I can’t bring up my leg.
"You need to go on a diet, anyhow," I grumble.
Giving up that idea, I bring an arm across her throat to keep her chin up. My hand pulls her right arm into my chest. I can't breathe, but this should only take a few seconds as I hook my foot around her right leg. She's heavy, so this might not work, but I have to try.
Quickly, I bump up my hips so violent and fast that she shifts forward over my head, and I roll us over. Now, I'm on top. Immediately, I jump off of her and am promptly slammed in the side by another wolf. Down I fall. I'm bleeding and bruised, but I'm not down for the count. Not yet.
I will not go down this way.
A flash of silver appears in a blinding flash. A battle-axe buries itself into the head of the werewolf who hit me.
Shocked, I risk looking over in the direction of the battle-axe thrower. An ogre? What is he doing here?
I don’t have time to worry about that or fear that he’s here to steal away the alpha. I’m already grabbing my crossbow again. I fire off more shots, but the werewolves are confused, uncertain which of us to attack. They’re moving far too fast for me to hit them, but the way the ogre is brandishing his morning star has the werewolves hesitating.
The ogre cuts through them, injuring but not killing as far as I can tell, and he retrieves his battle-axe. Good idea. I want my dagger back. Where is that werewolf?
Running back toward the five around the alpha.
The ogre glances at me and nods. I ignore him, retrieve the second dagger I couldn’t reach earlier, and, with a roar, race toward the six wolves by the alpha. They snap and grind their teeth, but the ogre is right beside me. The injured werewolves have all slinked away, including the one with my dagger, and the remaining five seem hesitant to attack us for some reason.
The largest of the five howls. The others look to her, lower their heads and tails in submission, and they run off too.
“I just lost my favorite dagger,” I complain as I tuck the other one back into my boot and adhere the crossbow to my back.
The ogre eyes me. He hasn't said anything, and I'm more or less talking to myself anyhow. It's no wonder that the werewolves didn't want to take him on. He's tall and muscular. Honestly, he's rather beast-like with huge teeth. His ears stick out, and they're more triangular than shell-shaped. His skin is a little pink.
He's also standing a little too close to the still-unconscious alpha for my liking.
“I don’t know who you are or why you’re here—” I start.
“I’m Azir.”
“Yeah, I don’t really care.”
“I saved you.”
“I didn’t need saving,” I spit out. I grind my teeth. I’m so pissed off right now. “I didn’t need your help, and don’t think for one second that I’m splitting my fee.”
I grab onto the tarp and pull. I’m not about to hang around here any longer than I have to. Stupid diluted dog urine didn’t do anything. What a disgusting waste of time.
“I don’t care what you do,” he says. He moves to grab the tarp.
“I really don’t need your help.”
He sniffs, steps back, and makes a terrible face. “What is that smell?”
I smirk. Maybe the urine hadn’t been a complete waste of time after all.
“Anyhow, I’m not in it for that,” he continues. “I want to hire you.”
I gape at him. He has to be about my
age, and he's an ogre, not a goblin or a dragon. Both of those tend to hoard and collect riches. Ogres? Not so much.
“No way,” I declare. “You don’t have that kind of money.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” he protests, “and you didn’t even let me tell you about the job?”
“I don’t want to know anything about you,” I say firmly, “and I’m not interested, so you can save your breath.”
The ogre steps forward and grabs the tarp. Ugh. Why can’t the guy take a hint?
“Seriously. I don’t need your help.”
"I clearly think you are more than capable, or else I wouldn't want to hire you."
“And yet, you didn’t think I could handle all of those werewolves by myself and had to jump in and save me.”
Azir laughs. “You are not a damsel in distress.”
“Definitely not.”
“More like a crazy chick.”
I glower at him. Is he for real right now?
“It was a joke,” he rushes to add.
“A bad one.”
We’ve reached the far line of trees. He pauses, but I keep dragging the tarp, following the line of trees. Yes, we’ll be on the sidewalk soon, but we’re almost at my car, and the fight took so long that it’s dark now. At least it’s obvious that it’s an animal we’re dragging and not a body.
“I just meant… You’re a human,” the ogre says. “You were fighting how many werewolves all by yourself? You’re brave to the point of being the living embodiment of courage, but your body can only handle so much. How that wolf didn’t crush you, I don’t know.”
“The paws were on the ground, not on my shoulders,” I say.
“But you rolled the wolf off you!”
“Yeah, I know. It’s called a role reversal.”
“I know what the move is called. You take karate?”
"I have a black belt in karate and in BJJ."
“You have a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu?”
I make a face. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Oh, I believe it. I have a friend who would love you.”
“I don’t need to be hooked up with anyone,” I say crossly. At least we’re almost to my car. Then, I can shove the alpha into my trunk and be done with the ogre.
“No, no, no.” He bursts out laughing. “She. She would love you. She’s just like you, trying to be as strong as possible, lifting weights, training with all kinds of weapons.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t really have friends.”
“That’s lonely, and you’re liable to get yourself killed if you keep this up. An entire pack… versus a human…”
At least he doesn’t say versus a girl.
“My job wouldn’t require you to take on an entire pack,” he says.
“Don’t care about your job.”
“I told you I can pay.”
“I told you no. I don’t accept every job.”
Azir hangs his head and steps back. We’ve reached my car, and I pop the trunk. With a grunt, I position the alpha so he’s sitting up, leaning against the back of my car. I squat down, grab his furry front legs, and bring them over my shoulders. Exhaling, I slowly straighten my legs, lifting him just enough that I can fling him backward into the trunk. I shove the tarp on top and shut it.
The ogre claps.
“Not appreciated,” I inform him.
“I appreciate you. That’s why I hunted you down. I’m stationed near here, thankfully, or else I wouldn’t have been able to find you.”
“How did you find me all the way out here?” I ask. I shouldn’t encourage him, but I’m curious, and I have to know how he did it in order to prevent others from doing the same in the future.
“Your scent,” he explains.
Because that’s not creepy at all.
“How did you learn my scent?” I ask.
He runs his tongue over his large teeth. “I went to your house.”
I wince. I never thought about that, although I try to keep my residence a secret from supernatural types. I don’t want to have to move. Well, I’ve done jobs throughout the U.S. and even into Mexico. Not Canada, at least not yet. I’ve thought about it, selling the house, but I can’t. There are too many happy memories within those walls, and I will not have my entire life be this job. It’s a means to an end, a way to train and earn money so that my quest can be fulfilled without my dying in the process.
But maybe I should figure out a way to alter how my house smells so it doesn’t give off my scent anymore.
“Please, Rebel,” Azir says.
“You jumped in to fight a pack of werewolves yourself,” I remind him. “What would you need me for?”
“I can’t take time off my job.”
“And your job is…” I lift my eyebrows, waiting.
He sighs and scratches behind his right ear. “I don’t…”
I don’t blink.
The ogre says nothing.
“A werecat got your tongue?” I tease.
“Feline shifter,” he corrects.
“Ah, so he does know how to speak.” I appraise his built and recall his familiarity with weapons. “You’re either a paranormal slayer or executioner, aren’t you?”
His laugh is even deeper than his voice. “Yes, an executioner.”
“And you didn’t want to tell me why?”
“Because.”
"Listen, Azir, thanks for your help, but I didn't need it, and I don't need a client who won't talk to me. Everything is telling me to stay firm with my gut, and my gut says no."
I wiggle my fingers and rush to my door. Quickly, I’m driving away. Nothing like that has ever happened before, and if it never happens again, it’ll still be too soon.
Chapter 7
The leprechaun, Donal Murphy, wants me to deliver the alpha to his house, which is on the northern outskirts of Pittsburgh. It’s a decent enough drive to get there, and before we arrive, the werewolf wakes. I can hear him trying to kick his way out of there, but he’s not the first body in my trunk, and I press a button on my dashboard. A cloud of dragonsnap nectar in gaseous form is released in the trunk. The werewolf still kicks, so I press twice more, and now, he’s silent, unconscious again.
When we arrive, I press the button once more just for good measure. I wait a minute for the gas to settle, exit the car, and pop open the trunk.
The werewolf trashed the tarp, and I grimace. Oh, well. I’ll make do.
As before, I prop him up to sit and have his arms over my shoulders. It’s a slow walk up to the leprechaun’s small house. The guy’s not tiny, and he’s not anything like the cartoons of leprechauns, either. Honestly, he’s a little hot but also too old for me. He has to be in his late twenties.
He opens the door when I’m halfway up his driveway. Seriously, why is his driveway so long? But he helps me carry the alpha the rest of the way, so I guess I can stop complaining.
We bring the still-unconscious werewolf to the basement.
Donal beams. “I knew you would be able to.”
"Yes, it's done." I do my best to hide how exhausted I am. I still haven't cleaned my wound yet. Wounds. I have to have been cut in more than one spot. My attire covers my arms and legs, preventing me from seeing any bruises, but I sure do feel them. My muscles are tired, and I'm so fatigued I could close my eyes and fall asleep standing up.
“Wonderful. You’ll want the rest of your payment then.”
“Please.”
He nods, and I grin. When I first accepted the job, the leprechaun paid with a stack of twenties. Two grand as a down payment. And he agreed to double the fee since he wanted the alpha. Yes, the price is high, but so had been the risk to my life. Honestly, I still wish I asked for triple. As much as I hate to admit it, but if Azir hadn't shown up, who knows what might have happened.
The leprechaun reaches into his pocket and removes a disappointingly small stack. With a grimace, I accept, but I am not pleased. This isn't even a full stack. No way is
this stack a hundred bills, and worse, they aren't twenties. They're tens.
“We agreed on double,” I spit out.
"I am sick of people believing that leprechauns are made of money. We aren't. We're skin and bones like the rest of you. Yes, we can influence the luck of a person… or their ill-fortune…” He spreads out his hands as if he's defenseless. Then, his eyes narrow on my pouch. “That's a gold coin, now, is it?"
“I suppose.” How does he know about the gold? Can he sense it?
I inch back a few steps and nonchalantly slip my hand into my pouch.
The leprechaun starts to pace. “I paid you a good amount. You should be happy I was willing to pay more than half—”
“No, that doesn’t make me happy, but I suppose that just means I won’t be trusting you in the future.”
“Trusting me?” he asks, sounding hurt. “You can trust me.”
I snort. “To be a cheapskate.”
“I resent that.” He wags a finger at me. “I’ll go and get you something to drink… and maybe a washcloth so you can clean up. You don’t want to get blood everywhere.”
“Certainly not,” I say dryly.
I wait until Donal leaves the room to search my pouch for smelling salts. Swiftly, I snap the capsule and wave it back and forth under the alpha’s nose.
Wyatt Dane’s eyes slowly open, and he stares me down, his upper lip curled in a terrible scowl.
“Donal, I don’t know. I think I’m going to go. You didn’t even pay top dollar for the alpha, and I brought him in wolf form just like you specifically asked for.”
The alpha sniffs and growls lowly.
I slowly reach for the magic dampening cuffs. When the alpha doesn’t react, I breathe a little easier and remove the cuffs.
“Maybe next time, you’ll work out a specific number instead of just saying double,” Donal says as he returns with a blue mug in his hand.
I sidestep toward the door, facing both the leprechaun and the werewolf. Thankfully, my words to Donal are having the intended effect on Wyatt. The alpha fixates on the leprechaun and bolts forward. In a flash, the leprechaun brings down the mug to strike the alpha square in the snout. The werewolf barely howls and plows into Donal.
Hunter's Quest: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Rebel, Supernatural Bounty Hunter Book 1) Page 4
