Hunter's Quest: A Mayhem of Magic World Story (Rebel, Supernatural Bounty Hunter Book 1)

by Nicole Zoltack

  Her boots clack against the floor as she walks around to stand in front of me. “Here. It will burn, but it will work.”

  I don’t accept the vial just yet. “And I will smell like?” I ask suspiciously.

  “Lilac and cinnamon.” The witch smiles then. “I suppose I can’t be hurt that you’re skeptical of me. I never did tell you my name.”

  “I didn’t tell you mine.”

  “Ah, but everyone with half a brain knows you’re Rebel.” She smiles at me. “I am Morena.”

  “Morena…”

  “Morena Moriarty.”

  The name means nothing to me, which is not necessarily a bad thing. People are more likely to speak negatives than positives.

  “If you know I’m Rebel, then you know that I will come for you if this doesn’t work,” I warn her.

  “I do realize that. You will be most satisfied, but I must repeat that it will burn. To permanently alter any part of your body, even your scent—”

  “Yes. I understand. It will hurt. Good thing I have a high pain tolerance.”

  She smiles faintly and lifts the vial higher.

  I finally take it, but she snatches my other wrist, yanking off my glove and lifting the palm high, tracing her fingers on it, reading it.

  Unnerved, I pull free, noticing that she kept her face carefully blank as she read me. Just what did she see? I’m so furious with her at her intrusion, but nothing can be done about it now. She saw what she did, and I am not pleased.

  Even so, I still drain the vial. I paid for it, and I need it desperately. It had better work.

  Ugh. She’s not kidding. It burns something fierce, and I grimace and force myself not to cough. My forehead actually sweats, and I might tremble a little, but finally, the sensation passes.

  Hmm. Fairies have a decent sense of smell. I wonder if Vinca can tell me if the potion worked or not.

  I give her sixteen more tens. “Keep the change,” I mutter. It’s only an extra five. No big deal.

  “Can I interest you in anything else? I have far more offerings than these.” She sweeps her arm in a grand gesture. “Some are far more… potent.”

  “Love potions aren’t real.”

  “Magic and emotions is a difficult combination, yes, I’ll grant you that, but—”

  “I don’t need anything else.”

  “I have ones more suited toward combat,” she adds in a rush. “More than the endurance-enhancing ones. I’m talking—”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m really not interested.”

  "No more money, I take it. Well, how about this? I can hire you for a job, and pay you either in cash or in potions. What do you say?"

  “That depends on the price and the job.”

  “Price more important, I see. I like you, Rebel. You know what you want, and you know how to work the system to gain it.”

  “It’s why I’m alive even though paranormals know I know about them.”

  “All I want you to do is collect some herbs and other items. What do you say?”

  “I say you need to cut the crap and tell me what those items are.”

  “Eye of cyclops, tear of mermaid, and stomach of dragon,” she says quickly.

  “None of those are herbs,” I say dryly. Just what in the world can she use with those items?

  “No.” The witch quirks an eyebrow. “Five grand or all the potions you can ask for an entire month.”

  “Ten.”

  “Five,” she grounds out.

  “The dragon’s stomach alone is worth five!”

  “Ten then.”

  We shake.

  I really am crazy, but if this were a video game, I would gain a ton of experience points. But real life isn’t a game. This is just training, and I need all the training I can get. That training is why I became a supernatural bounty hunter in the first place. I have a quest I need to fulfill, and in order to finish it, I’m going to need to be the strongest, most dedicated, and fiercest fighter I can be. My time to move ahead with my quest is nearly at hand. Ten grand will go a long way for me to learn who exactly it is I need to kill to get my revenge. The spell I require will cost so very much and most likely more than just money.

  A dragon’s stomach, mermaid’s tear, and cyclops’ eye. This is so not going to be easy, but I am so up for the challenge. After all, I’m a bounty hunter, emphasis on the hunter.

  Chapter 9

  Cyclopes. I haven't entangled with one yet, so that I have to now will make things very interesting for me, to say the least.

  I will say this about Morena. She gave me a map with areas circled for spots where the three beings are known to be. Even better, she gives me a bag of special dust that will allow me to transport to the region of my choosing. That'll come in handy, especially since the closest cyclopes are nowhere near Pennsylvania. They're all the way in northern California.

  California. I shudder. I don’t like the idea of paranormal creatures being trained to become hunters and slayers. Even if they’re supposed to tackle evil paranormal creatures, who gets to decide which ones live and which ones die? Then again, who am I to judge based on morality when I’m a supernatural bounty hunter for hire? There are a thousand shades of gray in the world, and most people can only see just light and dark gray. If they only knew…

  Cyclopes tend to get a bad rap throughout history. They’re extremely strong beings, so if someone goes up against them, the cyclopes will defend himself and win most likely. They don’t necessarily choose violence just for fun, though. They’re more likely to be peaceful, to just want to be alone. Because they can’t hide or change their appearance, they are solitary creatures or tend to live in clusters. It has to be a lonely existence for them, and I feel just terrible about having to do this. Ideally, I’ll stumble upon a dead cyclops so I can just take the eye without having to fight one.

  Yeah, because the chances of that are so very high.

  If a paranormal hunter comes along…No, I would need a slayer or an executioner. I wonder if it would be more merciful to just kill the cyclops instead of blinding them.

  Man, it really is sick and twisted for the witch to want these ingredients. I’ve had to kill for clients before. I’ve had to bring people to clients. I’ve had to hunt down herbs and other stuff. To kill for body parts for a spell or potion? This is a first, and it’s not something I honestly want to do.

  That money, though…

  I really don’t know if I can do this, but for now, I’m going to see how this is going to go. If I still have a bad feeling about this, maybe I won’t end up doing it after all.

  At this rate, I’m going to alienate too many paranormal creatures in the area and never be able to go back home.

  Although I don’t want violence, I have to prepare for a battle. First step, sleep. In a hotel. So far, I haven’t seen any signs of the Blood Moon pack, and until I learn how they’re going to react to my not showing up to their ambush, I’m staying away from my house.

  In the morning, I have a large, healthy meal, and then I head deep into Pittsburgh to a storage unit. I have a lot of extra weapons and even a small stash of potions in various spots throughout the U.S. because lugging everything everywhere isn't feasible. It's better to have backups and spares. Right now, I am so in love with past me.

  Once I’m all stocked up, I sprinkle the dust on me. Nothing happens. Strange. I blink, and there’s a pulling sensation, a rush of air, and when I open my eyes, I’m standing in a forest.

  I take a step and have to sit down. Holy vertigo, Batman! Crazy.

  Once the dizziness wears off, I’m back on my feet and ready to explore. The weather here is beautiful, sunlight filtering through the trees to shine on the blooming flowers. I didn’t realize there were parts of California that weren’t so heavily built up. Here, someone could find peace and relax and be happy.

  That’s why the cyclopes are here.

  And I’m going to disrupt their peace.

  I sit down on a fallen tree log. Now
's not the time to have a crisis of conscience. I need to keep going, to keep pushing. Training. Everything is training. The world isn't fair. Why should I be?

  Because you were raised better.

  Tears fall down my cheeks. My parents dying in a freak car accident meant my older brother raised me. I had been in the car. The only survivor. If not for Mason, I might never have gotten over my survivor's guilt. A heavy cloud of depression descended on me the weeks and months afterward. But that hadn't been the only mark of tragedy in my life, and it won't be the last. That's all life is, a series of highs and lows until eventually, you die. If you live a decent enough life, you would have impacted others. I would love it if I could actually make people celebrate life more than be sad that I died, but honestly, with my profession and goal in life, I doubt anyone will care if I die.

  “You look sad,” someone says from behind me. Whoever he is, he sounds young.

  “I am sad.”

  "Why?" There's the pitter-patter of tiny feet.

  I close my eyes to hold back my tears. “Sometimes, you just miss someone.”

  “I miss someone.”

  "Who?" I open my eyes and glance over to see a young boy, maybe eight. Although it's warm out he's wearing a sweatshirt, the hood pulled so low over his head that I don't know how he can see where he's going. The visible parts of his face, just his mouth and chin, are covered in shadows.

  “My mama. She went to get food an hour ago. She’ll be back in another two.”

  “It takes her that long to get food?”

  “Sometimes longer.” He shrugs. “I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

  “I should be going,” I tell him.

  “To your home?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “It isn’t safe.”

  He stills. “Are you in trouble?”

  “No. Well, maybe, but it’s my own fault. Sometimes, you have to face the consequences of your actions, and I might’ve made some wrong choices.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes,” he says.

  “This wasn’t a mistake.”

  He takes a step back. “Are you a good person?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The boy retreats another step back.

  “Oh, I won’t hurt you.”

  “You have a dagger in your belt.”

  I pat it. “I use it to hunt.”

  “Hunt what?”

  “Food.”

  It's the truth. Years ago, when I first started to train with weapons, I lived out in nature for two months straight. I missed hot showers most of all. Whatever I killed, I ate. Truly a rough experience, but it hadn't been all terrible. I treated myself to a nice hot pizza loaded with toppings once I got back. The poor delivery guy. I didn't have time to shower before he came. Yeah, even though I washed in rivers and lakes, I had to stink.

  “Rabbits mostly,” I add. “A squirrel. I never did kill a deer.”

  “Mama says she’ll teach me how to hunt in a year when I turn five.” He lifts his chin.

  “You’re… four.”

  “Yep.”

  "But…" I can't be more shocked. Not only is he well-spoken, but he's crazy tall for a four-year-old!

  “I shouldn’t be talking to you. Mama will be upset.”

  I nod several times. “Is your home far?”

  “Not too far.”

  I hesitate. “Do you want me to walk you?”

  “No. I’ll be fine.”

  “Keep an eye out,” I call as he scrambles away.

  He stills at my suggestion, and I smile to myself. I thought he might be a cyclops. Now, I’m certain.

  Not thirty seconds later, he cries out. Instantly, I’m on my feet and racing through the trees toward his frighten wail. A minotaur stands over the boy, who’s on the ground, hood lowered, his one eye massive and taking up nearly half of his face.

  “I’m hungry,” the minotaur says. He licks his lips and kneels down, a leg on either side of the boy.

  “If you’re hungry, why don’t you pick someone a little taller and heavier?” I ask dryly. I grab my dagger and toss it back and forth between my hands. “Leave the kid be.”

  The cyclops looks at me, but I don’t look away from the man with the bull’s head.

  The minotaur chuckles. “You’ll put up a fight. He’s right here. Leave me be to my meal, and I won’t go after you next.”

  He leans down.

  I aim and throw the dagger. It clips the tip of his right horn before embedding itself into a tree trunk.

  “The next one will hit lower,” I say.

  With a roar, the minotaur stands. He grips the young cyclops, lifting him into the air and then throwing him. I barely have time to run and catch him before I have to gently toss him aside so only I'm the one to be tackled by the minotaur. My head connects with a tree root. Ow. Better than a rock, though.

  I shift to the side, grab a dagger, and put it against the minotaur’s throat. “I don’t want to have to kill you in front of the boy, but I will if you force my hand.”

  “I’m not going to shove your hand so you’ll slice my throat,” he says.

  He’s taking me literally.

  I sigh. “If you don’t leave us be, I’ll kill you.”

  “You know you can’t be left alive,” he all but roars. “You’re a human!”

  I don't answer verbally. Instead, with one slice, I hack off one of his horns and jab him right in the throat.

  “I’m not a typical human. I’m a rebel.”

  His roar is deafening, and he presses his hands against my throat. I can scarcely breathe, but the pressure lets up almost immediately. The minotaur is lifted into the air and thrown against a tree. His neck snaps, and he falls awkwardly.

  I gasp for air and slowly sit up. My savior is a tall woman in a traveling cloak, her hood falling down to reveal her one eye.

  “Mama! Don’t hurt her! She saved me!” The boy races over to her and hugs her legs.

  “She is human.”

  I stand, more worried about the minotaur than the cyclopes. The part-man, part-bull isn't breathing.

  If only the witch wanted a minotaur’s horn…

  “She’s not just a human, son. She’s Rebel.”

  “You’ve heard of me.” I wish I could smile, but my head is killing me. I really need to stop getting hit there. “I don’t mean you any harm.”

  “She fought that scary minotaur!” the boy says.

  “She’ll want payment.”

  “I want nothing.”

  The tall cyclops smirks. “You came here for a reason. You want something.”

  “I don’t. Someone else does.”

  “And this person wants…”

  I hesitate and shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to take it.”

  “What are you two talking about?” the boy asks.

  “About how I’m leaving. It was nice… meeting you.”

  I almost said, "seeing you," but I doubt his mom would've found it humorous.

  "Eriken, go to the house, please."

  “But, Mama,” he complains.

  “Do not ‘but, mama,’ me. You knew you weren’t to leave the house! Look what happened!”

  “It won’t… I won’t do it again!” Eriken looks at me, blinks his massive eye, and rushes away.

  The mom watches until he’s long gone and then nods a moment later. I wonder if she’s heard a door closed, but I didn’t hear anything.

  “Who wants what?” she asks.

  “A witch wants an eye, but I will not—”

  “I will give you mine.”

  "No! You need to take care of your son. He's cute, and I enjoyed talking to him. Please don't punish him. Not that I'm trying to tell you how to parent. I just… He wasn't in danger with me."

  The cyclops sighs. “You know more than humans, yes, but there is a lot you do not know.”

  “What I missing?” I ask, confused.

  “Cyclopes have evolved.
We can regenerate our eye. It will take time, but we will manage until it regrows.”

  “I can’t ask for that,” I protest.

  “And that is precisely why I am willing to give it to you. You stood up and defended my son.”

  “This makes us even,” I rush to say. “I don’t want to take advantage.”

  "Many hate you, and yet you live in case they will need your services one day. Be wary who you trust, but then, I suppose I shouldn't tell you how to be a bounty hunter."

  I grin, and she smiles back.

  “Give me a moment.” She turns her back to me.

  I close my eyes to give her even more respect. When she turns around, I keep my gaze on the ground.

  “Do you have…”

  I hold out a cloth bag I brought along specifically to hold the eye, and then I wince. She can't see the bag, but she's already taking it and handing it to me a moment later.

  “Take and be on your way. If you do happen to be near again, you may stop by. I am sure Eriken would love to see you again.”

  “I would like that.”

  She turns to go. I watch her retreat, grateful I never saw her eye-less face but even more grateful that I came across them. I have what I need, but I also have something else, something more important, something that my quest can’t provide.

  Humanity.

  Chapter 10

  After a quick return to my storage unit, I drop off the eye. Next is the mermaid’s tear. It’s a two-hour drive from here to Lake Erie. While I could try to hunt down merfolk in lakes or rivers that are closer, the surer bet would be the Great Lake.

  Since it’s a reasonable distance to travel, I opt to drive there. I’d rather save some of the travel dust for another time.

  At a stoplight still in Pittsburgh, I spy Vinca walking arm in arm with her fiancé. Her face lights up when she sees me, and she motions for me to pull over.

  Reluctantly, I do and roll down my window. It’s not that I don’t want to see or talk to her. It’s much more that I’m worried about being seen by the Blood Moon pack.

  “Did you hear what happened?” the fairy asks eagerly without saying a greeting first.

  I shake my head.